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None one here is mine. No. Really. Put away your lawyer.

RATING: PG-13

Author's notes: So many people inspired me to do this, but loki and Amanda Rex get mucho love for their honest betaing.

---

Seven, by willa
October, 2000

*Saturday*

Kyle reached up to knock on her door, hesitating momentarily before softly rapping twice. Part of him hoped she wasn't home or couldn't hear him. He wasn't looking forward to talking with her, but neither could he put it off any longer. Liz was the only one who could tell him what he needed to know. The only one who would tell him.

In the two weeks since Max Evans had saved his life, Kyle had desperately tried to get answers out of his father. The good Sheriff was being tight-lipped, although Kyle didn't think at this point there was anything left to hide. It was pretty clear that Max, Michael, Isabel and Tess were not human; a fact Kyle didn't think he would ever get used to. What he wanted to know now was how much else was there that he didn't know?

The sound of the chain being slid out of its moors and the deadbolt clunking open jolted him into nervous action. For a moment he had the urge to run away. Instead he buried his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back and forth on his heels. It was worth it for him to be here if he could only leave with some answers.

Liz opened the door halfway and stared at the boy on her doorstep. She had known he would show up eventually, but she was still nervous about talking to him. Even though he was now privy to part of the secret she had been keeping for the last eight months, she didn't feel she could tell him everything. And the determined look on his face told her he wanted to know more than she wanted to say.

"Kyle," Liz said, trying to sound surprised to see him. "How are you?"

"I'm...I'm doing okay, I guess, for someone who could have died a couple of weeks ago."

Liz glanced behind him to make sure no one was listening—a habit she picked up soon after learning the truth about Max and the others—and pulled Kyle inside.

"You really shouldn't say things like that out in the open, Kyle. It's not safe," She led him through her family's small home and back to her bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"Not safe for who, Liz?" Kyle hated the way his voice sounded accusing. Even now, he felt hurt and frustrated that all these things had been happening to people he cared about, and that he was kept in the dark.

"Don't play dumb, Kyle. We both know that you know what is going on around here. And no matter how much you hate Max Evans, you owe him, Kyle. You owe him for saving your life."

"I owe him, huh? Why don't I march on over there and thank him? And, hey, while I'm there, I can thank him for stealing my girlfriend, too." Liz ignored his comment, and Kyle sank down on her bed, taking a moment to look around him. Last time he had been in here, he and Max had almost felt like friends, poking into Liz's things, searching for hints as to which one of them she wanted most. It had never been a contest, really. Max won hands down. He and Liz saw into each other's souls.

Liz sat down next to him and drew one leg up onto the mattress. She looked so beautiful, even now, with the pain in her dark eyes. Kyle thought she had gotten even thinner in the days since the big showdown with Agent Pierce, but her tattered jeans and fitted red tank top still showed her lithe curves. It was easy to remember what he had seen in her last summer.

"Have you seen him?" he asked her in a quiet voice, watching her eyes grow even sadder, her lower lip tremble. She shook her head. "I can't believe he would just leave you like that."

Liz laughed bitterly. "I remember a time when you wanted him to leave me ‘like that.' Besides, I'm the one who walked away, Kyle. There isn't a place for me in his life. I'm surprised they haven't even left Roswell by now. They don't need us. They don't need any of us."

"Oh, they're still here alright. My dad is Max's new best friend. He sneaks out of the house all the time to meet him. Why he feels the need to sneak, though, that's a mystery. I sort of thought you'd be able to solve it for me."

Liz shrugged and shook her head. If Sheriff Valenti was still keeping things from Kyle, after all he had been through, it was clear to her that the situation was still dangerous. But this time, she didn't know anything about it.

"He probably just wants to help them make sure everything is going to be okay. Max did sa—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. He saved my life. I was there." Kyle stood up and began pacing. Ever since Max and his friends came into the picture, Kyle's dad had been trying to prove something about them. It consumed his life, soaking up more and more of the time they used to spend together. Only now the Sheriff had proof of everything he had been seeking. And it still consumed him.

"Whether you like it or not, Kyle, there's going to be this strange bond between you now. He has to...connect to you in order to heal you. He knows things about you that you've probably forgotten yourself."

"I don't think Evans and I are going to be picking out china patterns any time soon, Liz."

"That's not what I mean. It's that, he knows you now. When he healed me, it was like reading my journal, he saw so many things about me."

"I hope he can't see everything," Kyle muttered under his breath, his eyes traveling up Liz's long legs, lingering on the bit of skin exposed at her flat stomach. The last thing he needed was Max knowing about his still-strong feelings for Liz.

"Why'd you come here, Kyle?" There was clearly something on his mind, and his sarcastic words weren't doing a whole lot to hide that.

"Can't a guy just want to talk?" He walked over to the window that led to the rooftop. The graffiti Max had painted on the bricks was gone. Kyle wondered if there was a soap that could scrub off alien-created paint, or if Max had been up here to erase it himself.

"Sure," Liz answered. "Except it's been months since you really wanted to talk to me, and I feel like you have all these questions you want me to answer that you're keeping inside. And the thing is, I probably don't even have those answers."

He turned to look at her, and she met his gaze openly. He felt she was telling him the truth for the first time in ages. Without Max in her life anymore, she was just as in the dark as he was.

"I guess we have a lot in common now, don't we?" Kyle walked to the door and opened it. "I hope you don't mind if I..."

"We can talk whenever you want to, Kyle. I just want you to understand that, when it comes to them," she didn't have to say their names, "I don't know much more than you."

He nodded, gave her a little smile, and left with something different than he'd come for.

*-*-*-*

"I didn't think I would be this disillusioned about love until at least college," Maria said, squeezing a lemon into her glass of water.

"I hear it's happening earlier and earlier these days," Alex replied, shuffling his own empty glass between his hands. The sound of glass sliding across the tabletop sounded loud in the empty Crash Down.

"Can we talk about something else? Please?" Liz caught Alex's glass in mid-slide and set it out of his reach. When she had wiped up the trail of water he'd left on the table, she threw the soggy napkin at him. "I already cleaned this table once tonight."

"Oh, you know that cleaning helps you take your mind off things," Alex teased her, leaning across the table and reaching for his glass. Liz began to turn to place it on the table behind her, but he wrapped his long legs around hers and pulled, sliding her body back down the wide booth bench. She giggled and pulled back, only handing him the glass when it was clear he could pull her into the floor if he wanted to.

"It's a perfectly good idea to talk about something else, Lizzie," Maria smiled at her best friend. "But I cannot for the life of me remember what we used to talk about before. Alex, what did we talk about before?"

"I can recall many conversations about boys. Pretty much, that's all I remember."

"You're no help at all," Liz told him. Boys was a topic she and Maria didn't want to discuss anymore. The boys they wanted were off limits and bad for them, and they had wasted too much time already talking about it.

"Hey! Let's talk about what we're going to do all summer." Alex looked at them expectantly.

"Work," they said in unison.

"Oh." The glass resumed its sliding, and this time no one tried to stop him.

Liz motioned for Maria to scoot out of the booth, and set about turning out the lights in the empty restaurant. It had been a typical busy Saturday night, and would-be customers were still stopping at the door and looking inside. She hoped the dark would discourage them in a way the closed sign didn't seem to be.

The kitchen was impeccably neat, not a utensil out of place. The new cook they hired when Michael left was a stickler for cleanliness. Liz made sure the door to the alley was locked, then flicked the row of switches by the door. The red exit sign shined off the stainless steel surfaces, casting the entire room in a pale red glow.

Her two friends were still sitting in silence. Maria was stabbing the lemon wedge at the bottom of her glass with her straw, smashing the pulp into the swallow of lukewarm water she hadn't finished. Alex had set aside the glass, and was now folding a napkin into some sort of airplane.

"I hear Michael got a job at the hardware store," Liz said, walking toward the two. Talking about taboo subjects seemed better at this time than not talking at all.

"Yeah, and he was real mature about the way he left here. I can't believe your dad would give him a good reference." A particularly hard stab bent the straw in two and caused a split up the side. Maria pulled it out of the glass and began chewing on it.

"He wasn't a bad employee, Maria. Besides, Dad thought it would be better for everyone if he left. And if he can't pay his bills, he'll become a ward of the state again. I know you don't want that for him, even if the two of you aren't—"

"Well, I can't believe he's even still here. I thought for sure they'd get the hell out of Dodge after that thing with Pierce," Maria cut her off, echoing Liz's comment to Kyle earlier.

"They haven't decided yet what they're going to do," Alex stated knowingly.

The two girls looked at him, shocked. Neither of them had seen Max, Michael, Isabel or Tess since the day after they used the communication orbs.

"What do you know?" Maria asked, snagging one of Alex's wrists and pulling him toward her.

"Alex, how can you even say something like that?" Liz grabbed the other wrist and tugged harder, until the boy was trapped by them, his chest leaning across the table.

"Nothing. I know nothing. I just heard that they hadn't decided what to do yet, that's all."

"This isn't the kind of thing you just hear, Alex." Maria glared at him, knowing he would break under their scrutiny.

"It's possible, that I might have seen Isabel once or twice in the last couple of weeks." He looked guilty when both girls released him and fell back into the red vinyl booth.

"Only Isabel?" Liz's breath caught in her chest at the thought of Max, but the boy nodded.

"What did she tell you? Alex! Did she tell you they were thinking about going away?" As much as Michael had hurt her, Maria couldn't stand the idea of never seeing him again.

"I told you, they haven't decided yet." Alex was glad they knew. Even though they had kept secrets from him for months until Liz's jailhouse confession, he felt guilty for not telling them about Isabel. Especially when he knew deep down they would kill to have a meaningful conversation with Max or Michael. Or any conversation.

"How...are they?"

Liz and Alex both looked at Maria. She sounded so small and lost, very unlike her usual perky self. Sometimes Liz wished nothing had ever happened between her and Max, because it would probably mean Michael would never have hurt Maria.

"They're shaken up, understandably. This whole destiny thing has sort of erased everything they ever planned to do with their lives. They don't feel like they have choices anymore." Alex tore his napkin-plane to shreds as he told them, focusing on making each piece as small as he could, doing anything to avoid looking at their haunted faces.

"You always have a choice," Maria said.

"No, you don't," Liz replied.

*Sunday*

"It's clear what we have to do," Tess said, looking at the others expectantly.

The four were sitting on the patio of a newly opened coffee shop several blocks from the Crash Down, sipping on drinks and hoping to look like normal high school kids enjoying the summer. Unlike the popular tourist trap down the street, this place was as yet undiscovered, and they were able to talk without worrying about eavesdroppers.

"And what would that be?" Michael asked. He was still unused to having Tess with them all the time, and destiny or not, he wasn't inclined to trust her fully just yet.

"We have to leave Roswell. It's the only way for us to have the freedom we need to search for answers, without all the interference we've experienced here."

"Newsflash," Michael said, lowering his voice. "We've always known we'd have to leave Roswell some day. That's not the problem. The question is, how? And how do we do it in a way that won't draw even more suspicion?"

Max was the only one who saw Isabel deflate and close her eyes, and he reached over to lay his hand on hers. His sister had always had the most reservations about trying to get home again. The longer they stayed in Roswell the more roots she planted, the more attached she got.

"I think we're getting carried away here. We can't forget that we have people here who are willing to help us, who are willing to keep our secret. Do the two of you really want to go to a place where we're all alone again?"

"We're not alone, Max. We've got each other." Tess looked at him in a way that clearly denoted ownership and Michael rolled his eyes.

"What we've got is a serious need to get out of a town that encourages people to hunt for aliens, without even realizing there are real ones here," Michael said, finishing off Isabel's iced espresso with a dash of Tabasco.

"I think Max is right," she said finally, picking up her glass and noticing its sudden emptiness. She glared at Michael, who shrugged innocently, and pushed it away from her again. "If we leave, people will undoubtedly look for us. It will call even more attention to us. At least, if we stay, we have a cover story."

"That cover story is our lives, Tess. Our parents would never stop looking for us if we left." Max squeezed Isabel's hand before letting it go. He knew she wasn't going to leave them without a fight.

"They aren't your parents, Max," Tess hissed at him. "How can you even say that? After learning what you did about your real parents?"

"I don't expect you to understand," Isabel interjected. "You weren't raised like the rest of us. You don't know what it's like to have a stable home, people who love you."

"Well, I wasn't exactly raised like you guys, either," Michael said, wondering how many times he had said that in his life.

"None of that matters! How you were raised can't have anything to do with this! It's what you are. What we all are." Tess stared at Max, daring him to contradict her. He remained silent but was the first to break the gaze. "The two of you have got to learn not to let human emotions get in the way anymore. Especially you, Max."

Isabel pulled her lips into a tight line and crossed her arms over her chest. It was clear to her that nothing was going to be solved today and she, for one, was tired of being berated for things she couldn't change. The sooner Tess realized that, the better off they would all be.

"You're our leader, Max," Tess put her hand on his arm, flinching when he jerked away.

"How?" he asked, sounding lost. "How can I be?"

She was about to answer him when she saw his eyes stray over her shoulder. She turned to see what had caught his attention, and saw a stunned Liz Parker standing a few feet away on the sidewalk.

"That emotion you're feeling right now—that human emotion," Isabel smirked at her, "That's called jealousy."

*-*-*-*

Sometimes Liz just had to get away from the restaurant, away from the concerned eyes of her parents and Maria, and just spend some time alone. Before she got involved with Max, she used to go to her room or the rooftop, places she had known since childhood and which comforted her with their familiarity. It seemed that now someone was always interrupting her there, checking in on her to make sure she was doing okay. And there were memories of being there with him, thoughts and feelings she worried she would never be able to shake. Today her feet carried her outside and down the sidewalk. She didn't even notice where they were taking her. The streets of Roswell were so familiar to her that she knew, no matter where she ended up, she would be able to find her way home again.

Home was a concept she had been thinking a lot about lately. Her mother and father had done their best to create a loving, healthy environment for her to grow up in. They taught her strong values, like fighting for what you believe in, and they had insisted she help out at the Crash Down as soon as she was old enough, instilling in her a rock-solid work ethic. She loved them for everything they had done, but lately she was becoming restless. There was someplace else she wanted to be each time she sat down to breakfast or settled into bed. Home was feeling less like home these days.

Still, she could not imagine what it was like for Max and Isabel. Even though they were raised in a good home, with a good family, they had always known they didn't belong there. And Michael, Michael had never known any sort of stability at all. It was no wonder he had always been the one to fight the hardest for finding home. She refused to think about Tess.

A sudden tilt in the sidewalk caused Liz to look up and pay attention to where she was going. Up ahead she could see the sign for the new coffee shop, and she smiled to see people were already enjoying the outdoor patio. New businesses in Roswell had almost no chance of making it if they weren't alien-themed, but Liz was privately rooting for this newest establishment. She and Maria needed someplace quiet to hangout that wasn't work.

She would have recognized them right away if it weren't for the addition of Tess. The three of them together was such a familiar sight: Isabel's perfect posture and stunning golden hair, Michael's own ever-present spiky locks, Max...

Liz stopped walking and stood on the sidewalk staring at him. She was angry. So angry that things had ended up this way, that she couldn't be with him, that she couldn't even see him without wanting to hold him and touch him. Angry that no matter how hard she tried she wasn't getting over him. Not even a little.

‘He looks as bad as you do,' her mind supplied. His shoulders were hunched over the small bistro table, he had dark circles under his eyes. His strong, beautiful face looked so sullen and grim.

She took two steps toward him and stopped. Tess was laying her hand on his arm, looking at him with that coy, innocent look Liz had come to despise. She felt a moment of joy when he jerked away from the other girl.

And then he saw her.

His tormented brown eyes locked on hers for the briefest moment, and Liz knew that if she did not leave, she was going to run right into his arms. But she couldn't, not until she had drunk in the sight of him, something she had been starving for since the day she left him.

Michael watched the two of them, half expecting Max to get up and go over to her. He obviously wanted to, and Michael was reminded that Liz had been the one to walk away. Max still wanted her in his life, still thought his place was beside her.

Isabel watched Liz and felt sorry for her. She was trying so hard to stand her ground, to be stoic, not cry. But Isabel knew she would go home in tears. That was something she and Liz shared. Something she and Tess would never have in common.

Tess had turned her back on Liz seconds after seeing her. She didn't want or need to know that Liz was still hurting. The look of longing on Max's face told her everything she needed to know. Plastering a smile on her face, Tess scooted her chair slowly to the right, stopping only when Max dropped his eyes back to the table.

Liz watched him until Tess blocked him from her sight. Affecting a shaky smile, she waved at Isabel and turned to go home.

*Monday*

Alex sat on the floor next to Isabel's bed, watching her curl up into her pillows and try not to cry. ‘She's trying to disappear,' he thought, and reached out to capture her hand, keeping her with him.

"The whole thing is awful," she stated, allowing him to hold on to her. She knew it wasn't right for her to be spending so much time with him these days, but Alex seemed to be the only one who would just listen to her without expecting her to make any life-changing decisions.

"Tell me about it." He leaned his head on the mattress next to her knee and tried to keep the look of adoration off his face. He could tell when she looked away he hadn't succeeded. They had agreed to keep this thing between them strictly platonic. "You should have seen Liz and Maria at the Crash Down this weekend."

"I saw Liz on Sunday," Isabel told him. "She looked awful, so skinny and lifeless. Max came home after and locked himself in his room for the rest of the day."

"Wait. She saw Max?" Isabel nodded. "She didn't tell me. Or Maria, for that matter."

"She didn't talk to us, Alex. The four of us were just sitting there, and she happened to walk by."

"Ah. The four of you. Tess. That explains it. Liz shuts down just thinking about her."

Isabel opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it and shook her head instead. Alex released her hand and dropped his own to the bed, willing it not to reach up and touch her face or her hair. Even today, with the weight of everything resting on her shoulders, Isabel Evans was a beautiful girl.

"So. Is anything settled yet?" Alex didn't really want to know the answer to that question, but asked it anyway. If she was going to leave, he didn't want to know his time with her was going to end.

"No," she said the word with disdain and rolled onto her back, effectively hiding her face from him. "Tess believes that now that this whole destiny thing is out in the open, things should just move along some little preordained schedule."

"What do you believe?" He stood and moved around the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress so he could see her reaction.

"Honestly?"

"No. I want you to lie to me." His voice was serious, but his smile told her he was kidding.

"I think, that even after everything we've learned, and everything we've seen, we're no closer to getting home than we ever were. I don't feel it, Alex, in here," she placed her hand on her chest, over where her very human heart was beating.

Alex finally gave into his need to be close to her and lay back against the pillows, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on one arm. He watched her fingers trail across the skin in the deep vee of her tee shirt. To him, the movement was strangely erotic, but he knew she was thinking about how she could feel so normal and still be so alien.

"What about the rest of it?" he asked in a soft voice. Her fingers ceased their movement and her contemplative face hardened.

"If you're talking about Michael..."

"I'm talking about you, Is. How do you feel about the rest of it, in here?" Alex placed his hand on top of hers and pressed it against her breast.

Isabel sighed and turned her head away from him. His palm was clammy against her fingers, and she thought she could feel him shaking. He, Alex, was shaking at the mere idea that she might leave, that she might be interested in someone else. Those were such simple things. How could he ever understand what she was going through?

"I try not to feel anything about it." When she spoke her voice was broken. She turned back onto her side away from him, but not fast enough to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

Alex watched her try to be strong and debated with himself about whether or not it was okay to comfort her. Her shoulders shook despite her attempt to remain rigid, and he gave up trying to stay away. He molded his body against her back and wrapped one arm around her waist, sliding the other underneath his head. He rubbed his cheek against her soft hair and stroked her stomach through the cotton shirt she wore. For once he didn't think about how good she felt or how much he wanted her. Alex just needed her to know he was there.

"I can't tell you it's going to be okay," he murmured.

"I know."

"I want it to, though. You know that, right?"

She nodded and shifted until he felt her smooth skin, wet with tears, brush against his face.

"This, thing, Alex. You. It's important."

Her eyes had been so sad lately, the stress taking toll in the form of dark bruises marring her perfect features. He wondered why she didn't take care of them herself, not noticing how close he was to her until he felt her own breath against his lips.

"Is, you know I want—" He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to let him. His eyes slid closed and he waited for her. Waited.

"I should check on Max," she said, suddenly sounding miles away. Isabel took another moment to take in his serene face, the longing clearly evident there, and moved away.

*-*-*-*

"This is too weird," Maria said, watching Kyle Valenti walk toward the booth she was sharing with Liz at the Crash Down.

"You promised to be nice, Maria," Liz scolded. "Like it or not, he's sort of part of our lives now."

"Who isn't?" the other girl muttered under her breath. She managed a bright smile, though, when Kyle scooted into the bench next to Liz.

"Hey." Kyle sort of half waved at Maria, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

"Hey."

"So," Liz said, taking it upon herself to get the conversation rolling. "What do you guys want to do tonight? Movie? Dancing? Maybe...no. I guess those are our only two options."

"God! I hate this town!" Maria leaned her back against the wall and put her legs up on the seat, rubbing at a scuff on the toe of one of her black boots.

"We could go to the UFO museum," Kyle offered, grimacing as he did so.

"That's real funny, Kyle. Great. Really." Maria glared at him.

"It was a joke, Deluca. Joke? Ha ha?"

"In case you aren't completely caught up on the little trauma that is our lives, Valenti," she emphasized his last name, "Liz and I aren't exactly clamoring to be reminded about what happened there."

"And you think I am?" This wasn't going at all how Kyle wanted it to, thought he couldn't quite remember what he had expected to accomplish by voluntarily hanging about with Liz and Maria.

"Will you two just stop it!" Liz so rarely lost her temper that they both froze. "There's no reason why we can't hang out like three normal people."

"Right. That's what I was going to say," Kyle said.

"Sure you were," Maria replied, dropping her feet to the floor and standing up. She adjusted the snakeskin choker around her neck and straightened her hot pink tee shirt. "I vote for dancing."

"I hate dancing," groaned Kyle.

"Well, that's something normal people do. And, as Liz pointed out, we're normal people. So that's what we should do."

Liz knew Maria had chosen that particular activity because Kyle wouldn't want to go, but it did seem a better choice than the three of them trying to agree upon a movie. She turned in her seat to face him, questioning him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know I can't go dancing, Liz."

"Can't is a strong word, Valenti," she, too, emphasized his name, but followed it with a grin. Just because she didn't want to date Kyle, didn't mean she couldn't try to be friends with him.

"Come on!" Maria bounced up and down her on her toes, the stacked heels of her boots clunking on the floor. "If we wait too long, there won't be any good space on the dance floor."

"You sure you don't want to come with us, Kyle? I wanted the three of us to hang out tonight." Liz placed her hand on his arm, trying to communicate how sincere she really was.

"Maybe we're not ready to be a three of us, Liz." Kyle felt disappointed, but somehow understood Maria needed Liz more right now than he did. It felt pretty good just knowing she was willing to be there for him again.

"We'll do a movie later in the week, okay Kyle?" Maria was smiling at him openly now, her prior hostility gone once she realized she'd have Liz all to herself. She held up the keys to the Jetta and jingled them at her friend. "I'll see you in the car."

Kyle and Liz watched her leave the restaurant before turning back to each other.

"She's really taking this hard, isn't she?" Kyle asked.

"I don't think it's easy on any of us, is it?" Now that they were back on the same footing, Liz wasn't about to let Kyle forget it. There had been too many months of accusations and threats. If they were to be friends, they would have to be honest with each other.

"I guess not," he replied reluctantly. "I still can't believe you knew...all this time...after the shooting...this is why we..."

"It takes some time to get use to." Liz giggled and motioned for him to let her out of the booth.

"Yeah. I think I'm beginning to understand that."

"Have you talked to your dad about it?" The boy shook his head and headed toward the door. Liz hurried to stop him, grabbing his arm before he could go outside. "Kyle, he knows a lot about this. He could help you sort things out."

"I think everything is well-sorted. Thanks."

Liz released him and followed him out into the still-blazing heat of the New Mexico summer night. She could see Maria's car parked across the street, a blond head inside bobbing to some rhythm they couldn't hear.

"Well, you know you can hang out with us anytime."

"Except when it's dancing night." He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk and looked sheepish. Liz nodded and laughed again.

"Except for then."

*Tuesday*

Michael's apartment was sweltering, even at ten in the morning. The oscillating fan positioned in the middle of his living room merely pushed the hot air from side to side, cooling nothing farther than a foot or so in front of it.

"Air conditioning is for the weak," Michael said, opening the freezer door and sticking his head in it. Grabbing an ice cube out of a half-empty tray, he ran it down his neck before popping it in his mouth and shutting the cold back in.

Max welcomed the heat. The sweat running over his skin, sticking his cotton shirt to his chest, reminded him that he was alive. No matter what prophesy he was designed to fulfill, he was still flesh and bone, lying on Michael's beat-up couch, sweating and being miserable in the heat. Just like the rest of the humans.

"When you think about her, do you feel empty inside?" Max rolled to a sitting position, grimacing as a stray spring poked him in the leg. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and cheeks, encountering days worth of stubble.

"You're not supposed to be thinking about her at all, Maxwell. We've got bigger issues now." Michael dropped to the floor in front of the fan, getting as close to it as he could, and continued to suck on the ice.

"Don't tell me you never think about her, Michael. It's not like you can just shut it off."

"Repression is an art form," he replied, his voice distorted as it bounced off the rotating fan blades.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Besides," Michael leaned back, supporting himself on his arms, "Every time we have this conversation I feel like such a girl. Guys aren't supposed to discuss their feelings, Max. Get with the program."

"Whatever." Max walked into the kitchen and took his own tour of the freezer, hopping up on the counter with the ice cube tray. He watched the ice melt in its plastic compartments, oblivious to the water soaking into his khaki pants.

"I probably miss her. Sometimes." Michael unplugged the fan and moved it to the kitchen, watching as a discarded paper towel blew off the counter and into the floor. "But I'm serious. We have to figure out what we're going to do next."

"I know what I want to do next."

"It can't involve Liz Parker and a tub of jello."

"Liz isn't really the jello type, Michael."

"Hey, I guess you would know," Michael couldn't figure out how to get Max back on track, not when he so obviously didn't want to be led there. But who was he to do the leading around here? "Max, you've got to snap out of this. We've got a mission now, a clear path to home. And you're the one who's going to get us there."

Max threw the plastic ice cube tray in the sink, glad for the clatter it made against the steel surface, the half-melted cubes sliding to a halt in the bottom of the basin. He had the overwhelming urge to hit something, and looking down, he could see his hands were already clenched into fists.

"I don't want to lead anybody," his voice was loud and ragged, more of a plea than a shout. "I just want to be a normal kid again."

"You were never normal," Michael reminded him. "We were never normal. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?" Max slid off the counter and turned around, bracing himself against it, his forehead pressed against the wood of the kitchen cabinet. He squeezed his eyes tightly and welcomed all the confusion swirling around inside his head.

"Banging your head against the wall isn't going to solve anything." Michael had opened the refrigerator and was rooting around inside of it.

"There is no solution, Michael." Max remained still against the counter, his back to his friend. "Do you really think we're ever going to find home? Do you really think there's another alien race out there, waiting to find us and start some revolutionary war? Do you realize how crazy this all sounds?"

"It only sounds crazy because you're thinking like a human, instead of what you are. Why would it be so crazy that there are others like us here on Earth, when we're here ourselves?"

"This is too big for us!" Max slapped the counter with open fists, finally turning to face Michael. "If all this is true, we're going to endanger everyone who's important to us."

"Just like Tess said, if we stick together, none of us will get hurt. We're more powerful than we ever dreamed."

"This affects more than the four of us. It has to. We brought them into this, made them a part of our lives." Max suddenly deflated, and he covered his face with his hands once again, trying to shut everything out.

"But it wasn't meant to be, Max. Us and them. It just wasn't. That's why we need to leave, so we can start over together. Figure things out. You and Tess, and me and—"

"I'm never going to be with Tess that way, never." If there was anything Max was sure of, this was it. "And you and Isabel? Michael, the three of us were raised thinking of each other as family. Family! They may have created us...out of something else, another time. But what they made us into has made us incapable of picking up some past life."

"Do you...think Isabel feels that way? About being with me?" Michael almost sounded disappointed.

"She won't talk about it. But does it really matter?" The other boy shrugged his shoulders and Max felt the anger rising in him again. "It's ridiculous to think we would just pick up where we left off with each other."

"Why can't you just accept that it's where we belong? It may not be ideal, but it's..." Michael trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Home? Right?" Max finished for him. "It's not either of those things. We're not home. We're still here and we still have lives."

"Wrong. You have a life." Michael stared back at him, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

"Don't discount what you have, Michael."

"Yeah, well, maybe I need some time alone to think about that," he said sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest.

Max recognized the struggle Michael was facing, and knew he couldn't adequately understand it. Not when Michael thought Destiny was handing him his long sought after place in the universe on a silver platter.

"Yeah. Sure." Max moved out of the small kitchen. "Call me later."

"Ay, ay, Captain."

*-*-*-*

Maria dragged herself up the stairs toward Michael's apartment, imagining the air growing thicker with every step. ‘Well, they say heat rises,' she muttered to herself. When she reached the third and final flight, she sank gracelessly to the top step, staring at the door that opened onto his hallway.

This was the nearest she'd come to seeing him in the last two weeks. It seemed that she got a little closer to him every day, walking past the hardware store, driving past this building, dialing his phone number and hanging up before he answered. Now she was just a handful of steps away from his door, and she couldn't make herself cover the last bit of ground.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and forced herself to breathe. Maria knew there was a very real possibility that Michael and the others would leave Roswell, and that there was an equal possibility that Michael wouldn't come find her before he left. Why? Because he loved her too much, whatever in the hell that meant.

On an intellectual level, Maria could understand why Michael would keep his distance. In fact, she would probably do the same thing in his situation, if she thought staying away would spare the feelings of someone she loved. The reality, though, was that she ached every day she was away from him. She couldn't imagine the pain of his leaving being worse than this—knowing he was so close and not being able to see him. So it was worth it, to her, to go through losing him yet again, if she could have just one more day with him.

The girl stood at last, wiping the dust off the soft black cotton of the capri pants she wore. She counted four steps to the door, and opened it slowly, trying to avoid the screech of the hinges she knew so well. Her hesitance just made the metal grind louder, and Maria almost let the door fall closed again. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, and she counted twelve more steps to Michael's door.

Maria pressed her ear to the warped wood, listening intently for the sounds of voices inside. The only thing that could make this more humiliating would be running into one of the others. But she heard nothing, not even the sounds of someone shuffling about alone. For the first time, it dawned on her that he might not be home, and she realized she didn't have a plan for that. Should she wait for him? Would she have the nerve to come back?

She knocked softly on the door, listening again for the sound of footsteps inside. Again, she was greeted with silence. So he wasn't home. Her stomach sank. She had made it all the way here, gathered up her courage, prepared herself to fight for her right to be in his life. And he wasn't here.

Pulling her messenger bag off her shoulder, she dropped it to the floor and crouched down to dig through its contents. Resting on the bottom, anchored by an alien-head key chain made by her mother, was the key to his door. No one knew she had it, except Michael, who had asked her to keep it a secret. He had given it to her the day she confessed the reason she had lied about her visions. It was his way of telling her they were already close, that he knew they were close. But she had never used it, afraid he would feel she was pushing.

She wasn't afraid, though, as she put the key in the lock and let herself inside, savoring the way the warm dark room enveloped her. Closing the door and locking it again, she felt her way across the living room, navigating around the still-rotating fan and into his small bedroom. Maria turned on the small lamp sitting on the floor next to his bed, and slowly sank to the twin-sized mattress. A wrinkled blue shirt had been tossed haphazardly across the pillows and she pressed her face into it, breathing in the scent of him.

Maria felt a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in days. It was even hotter in this small space, without even the benefit of the tiny fan, and it lulled her into a trance-like state. Curling up on her side she flicked the light off and settled into the darkness, hugging his shirt to her chest and closing her eyes. Every moment she'd ever touched him, ever been held by him, replayed itself in her mind. A smile stretched her lips and she sighed, determined to find a way back into his life.

*-*-*-*

Michael fished the house key out of his pocket and let himself in. The air had grown cooler as the day slipped into evening, and the darkness of the apartment was welcoming after his lonely day of walking aimlessly around Roswell. His discussion with Max had gone exactly how he thought it would—the other boy had never tried to hide his reluctance at leaving town—but that didn't mean Michael wasn't angry about it. They finally had all the proof they needed that there was a way to get back home, and thus far they had done nothing.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his sweaty shirt, not caring that they landed in the middle of the floor. Pulling the fan cord from the wall, he barely let the blades slow before he picked it up and walked into his tiny bedroom, setting it back down on a plastic crate in the corner and locking it into position facing the bed. The near-silent whir of the blades was soothing to him, and he suddenly felt exhausted. Pulling on the zipper of his jeans, he turned toward the small bed.

She was still lying on her side, facing away from him, her legs bent in a loose fetal position. Her teal tank top—the one he remembered from their first night together at the Crash Down—had risen in her sleep to expose the pale skin of her back. She looked so peaceful. All the air left his lungs in a rush, and he reached for the wall to steady himself.

Keeping distance between him and Maria was a necessity. Each moment he was with her, the more he wanted there to be another and another, until one day he had woken up in bed reaching for her, a habit that scared him more than the idea of never finding home. Because, for a moment, he wanted his home to be there, with her, and Michael Guerin could never admit that to anyone.

Maria shivered in her sleep and curled tighter into the mattress, her hand rubbing against the bare skin of her arm. Michael cursed under his breath and moved to turn off the fan.

"It's okay, you can leave it on." He turned to see her eyes fixed on him.

"You're," here, he finished to himself. "Cold."

He pressed the off button and watched the blades slow to a stop. The quiet was suddenly very unsettling. He focused on the sounds of her breathing, in and out, letting her nearness overcome the rush of protest in his own head.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here." Her voice was small, almost swallowed by the blackness of the room. "And I know I'm not going to get over this if I don't stay away. But, Michael...I can't just quit you. I have to know what you're doing, how you're doing."

"You shouldn't be here." His voice was equally small.

"I think we've covered that already." She moved onto her knees and crawled to the end of the bed, crouching before him. "I just want to know what's going on."

He backed away from her, colliding almost immediately with a second-hand dresser.

"Look. None of this can be important to you anymore."

She looked for a moment as if she would stand and follow him, but instead she sank back onto her heels and looked down at her hands. Her hair fell in front of her face, sparing him the tormented look she now wore. Just moments before she had looked like an angel sleeping in his bed, but now she looked defeated.

"Please don't tell me we can't have this," she pleaded with him, lifting her watery eyes to his. "Please."

Michael took one step toward her, halting when he saw the flicker of hope spark and then die in her eyes.

"We're leaving," he told her, even though nothing had been settled yet. The first tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

"When?"

"Soon." Her face fell and he amended his statement. "Eventually. We have to. It's the only way to get any answers."

"Right. The all-important answers."

A familiar anger flared up inside him and he reached out for her arms, hauling her off the bed to stand before him. Maria was startled at his force and shoved against him, struggling to keep her balance in the small space.

"I don't expect you to understand!" he thundered at her. "But I am sick of people acting like I have no right to learn about who I really am."

She winced as his fingers dug into the soft skin of her upper arms. Michael was practically shaking her, gasping for air, his eyes narrowed with frustration. She quit struggling and sagged against him, forcing him to hold her up.

"You're Michael," she stated simply. "What else do you need to know?"

She gently pulled her arms away from his grasp, wrapping them around his waist. Maria was suddenly aware of his bare chest, the skin warm and slightly damp. She couldn't resist brushing her nose against him, inhaling the saltiness of his sweat, forcing him to acknowledge her closeness.

"I don't know who that is," he finally responded to her. "I've never known."

"It's because you're looking too hard." She took his hands, pressing one into the bare small of her back, and holding the other against her cheek. Michael let her manipulate him, a thousand warnings blaring and ignored in his head. He had lied to Max that morning. He didn't miss her sometimes. He missed her all the time. And now she was here.

Michael shifted just slightly, and she was pressed firmly against him, her cheek against his chest, his face in her hair. Maria let out a shuddering sigh and nuzzled against him.

"There are reasons for us to be apart," he told her, not convincing at all. "Good reasons."

"Name one."

"It's not safe, with my powers—"

"You'd never hurt me. If someone is out there, searching for you guys, I'm probably safer with you."

"When we leave—"

"If," she stressed the word, "you leave, we can deal with it then. I don't want to stop you from finding the answers, Michael. I just want to be there while you search for them. I'm not going to break apart if you find a way home. I promise."

"It'll just be harder," he said, ending the sentence before she could interrupt him again.

"Nothing is harder than you pushing me away again." Maria walked them backwards, stumbling as the backs of her knees hit his bed. "I know you don't want me to go. Don't make me."

Michael looked down at the girl in his arms, amazed that she was here, that he hadn't scared her off.

"You should be running away from me," he told her, repeating to himself all the reasons why.

Maria sat back on the bed, pulling him down until he was kneeling between her legs. Her heart was beating violently in her chest as she took his face in her hands and kissed him, her mouth open and soft against his. Michael reacted instantly, sliding both hands into her hair and cradling her head, biting gently at her lips until she moaned against him.

"Don't make me go, Michael," she whispered into his ear as he pressed her back into the mattress with the weight of his body. He thrust his hips against hers in response, pushing back on his arms to look at her, her face so open and full of love.

"I can't...you mean so much..." The words choked in his throat and he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck. Maria wrapped her arms and legs around his body, anchoring him to her. She rubbed at the muscles in his back, combing her fingers through his hair, murmuring into his ear how much she needed him, until they both fell into an uneasy sleep.

* Wednesday *

Max sat on his bed, watching as Michael hauled himself in through the window, dropping to his feet as he had done a thousand times over the years. Smirking at his friend, he knocked hard on the wall behind his head. Isabel appeared moments later.

"You're late," she said, giving him a pointed look as he flopped into the chair at Max's desk.

"Yeah, well, school's out, I have the day off, and I thought it might be nice to sleep in for a change." And I'd still be in bed, if Maria hadn't been scheduled to work this morning, he thought to himself. "Where's Tess?"

Brother and sister exchanged a glance before Max answered.

"I don't know where she is. We didn't ask her to come over until later."

"So it's okay for her to spend the day in bed, or however else she wants to, but I have to get my ass over here bright and early? How is that fair?"

"It's eleven o'clock, Michael. I'd hardly call that bright and early," Max teased.

"We thought the three of us should talk," Isabel stated. "Alone."

Michael looked back and forth from Max and Isabel, the two of them sitting side by side against Max's headboard. It was obvious they had discussed this, and were united in their decision to exclude the other girl.

"Whether or not you guys want to admit it, Tess is one of us now. Any decisions we make, we make as a group. Leaving affects all of us."

"Not it doesn't," Isabel insisted. "Tess isn't...like us, Michael. She doesn't have the same things to lose as we do."

"Let me guess, family, friends, a home?" Michael ticked each of them off on his fingers. "Let me tell you something, we have a home someplace else. Friends and family, too. And the ones we've got here? If your family knew about you, they'd be begging you to leave."

"You don't know that, Michael!" Isabel jumped off the bed and rushed to the door, making sure it was closed securely before she began pacing the length of the room.

"I'm not having this conversation again," Michael said. "We're going to find a way home. No matter what we have to give up here."

"Can you really just walk away from everything so easily?" Isabel asked. "God, you sound just like her."

"Maybe you should have left me out too, then." Michael stood and walked back toward the window, ignoring the image of Maria finally sleeping soundly in his arms. Walking away wouldn't be easy at all.

"Michael, stop." Max finally jumped into the conversation. "We didn't ask you over here to talk you out of anything. We wanted to talk about our options, see if there was any way to leave Roswell without raising anyone's suspicions."

Michael turned and looked at Isabel, waiting for her to agree with her brother. She merely shrugged and sat down in the chair he had just vacated, picking up a pencil and tapping it against her leg.

"You shouldn't have left her out," Michael said finally, leaning against the windowsill.

"She keeps pushing so hard because it's a win-win situation for her. There's no one to search for her if she leaves, no one to say goodbye to. That's not a luxury the three of us have."

"Max is right, Michael" Isabel said. "If we're going to leave—and I'm not saying that's what I think we should do—it's up to us to decide if it's worth it."

Michael crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her, wondering if she and Max had always sided together, even back home. He simply couldn't imagine them any other way, just as he could not imagine himself as her lover.

"The way I see it," Michael told them, "your parents are the only real obstacle here. Liz, Maria, Alex, they already know what's going on. They certainly won't try to find us. Even Valenti is in on this now. He should be able to help us cover our tracks."

"Our parents are no small obstacle, Michael," Isabel pointed out. "They're very protective of us. If we were to run away, even with Valenti covering for us, they wouldn't stop until they found us."

"Or until they found your bodies."

"Michael, no." Max's voice was stern, the warning clear in his eyes.

"I don't see any other way."

"Then I guess we're staying here," Isabel concluded.

*-*-*-*-*

The doorbell to the Parker residence rang for a third time as Liz scampered out of the shower and into her bath robe. Her parents must have already gone downstairs, and the person at the door couldn't be Alex or Maria, as they would have come in through the restaurant.

"Hold on!" she yelled at the door, belting her robe tight around her waist and pulling her long wet hair into a loose ponytail. She jogged toward the door and stood up on her toes to look through the peephole. Liz sagged again the door, tightly gripping the doorknob.

"Why would you come here?" she asked the girl on the other side.

"I thought we could talk," Tess replied. "It's important."

For a moment Liz contemplated running back to her room, hiding under the covers until this horrible mess had all blown over. There was no doubt in her mind that Tess was here to talk about Max, and she was all talked out about that subject. Not to mention, Tess was the very last person she would ever want to discuss it with.

"Look, I need to talk to you. Just open the door?" Tess insistently knocked on the other side.

A nagging voice in the back of Liz's mind grew worried. What if something had happened to Max or one of the others? Is it possible one of them would have sent Tess? Panicked, she forced open the deadbolt but left the guard chain in place, swinging the door aside only as far as it would allow.

"Did something...? Is he okay?"

"Max is fine, Liz. That isn't why I came to see you." Tess smirked at her. "At least, not exactly. Are you going to let me in?"

The two girls stared at each other through the slit of a doorway, one with sad dark eyes and the other with steely blue ones. When it was clear Tess wasn't going away, Liz shut the door enough to release the chain and stepped aside far enough for her to come in.

"I kind of have to get ready for work, so if you'll just say whatever it is you came to say," Liz didn't budge from the entryway, making it clear she wouldn't invite the other girl into her home any further.

Tess ignored her comment and walked into the living room, looking around the sparsely decorated room and its knick-knacks that hadn't been moved since Liz was a baby. Her eyes caught on a framed photo over the couch and she moved to examine it, her cold gaze sweeping over the familial portrait of Liz and her parents.

"This is very quaint," she finally said, sitting down in a leather armchair. "Very homey. Do you think I would have had a home like this if I would have come out of my pod with the rest of them?"

"I guess we'll never know," Liz replied. She tugged self-consciously at the tie on her bathrobe, suddenly very aware at how thin and worn the terrycloth had become.

"Isabel and Max seem to think that, if Michael and I had been raised like them, with a nice little family to love us, we wouldn't be so eager to get home. What do you think?"

"I don't think that's what you came here to talk about. But, in fifteen minutes, I have to be at work whether or not you get around to it."

Tess smiled at her, reveling in her discomfort. Nasedo had taught her to take advantage of the weakness in humans, using it to get what she wanted. Liz was so open about her weaknesses that manipulating her was easy.

"I want you to convince Max to leave."

"I have no control over Max, Tess. He can make his own decisions."

"You are such a liar," Tess said, laughing. "You know he would do anything to make you happy. And as long as he thinks staying will make you happy, that's what he's going to do."

"I've already walked away from him, pushed him out of my life, what more could I possibly do?" Liz pulled the elastic out of her ponytail and began running her fingers through her hair, wincing as she pulled at the wet tangles.

"You have to make him believe you want him out of your life. Even though we both know that isn't true."

"And what do you get out of this? If I agree? Are you still hoping to be with him, if I'm not there?"

"Funny. I seem to remember him turning to me even when you were there."

Liz stared at her, shocked that Tess would bring this up when she knew that everyone had realized Max was a victim of her mind games. But Liz wasn't about to fight with her on it. Max was no longer hers to worry about. She glared at the other girl until she moved out of the chair and stood to leave.

"We need Max to find our way home. Do you even see how selfish you're being by keeping him here? Isabel and Michael, they are relying on him to help get us off this rock," Or they would, she thought to herself, if they could only see how important leaving was. "I know you don't want to be the one to keep that from happening. Or you wouldn't have left him in the first place."

"I don't know why you think Max would listen to me."

"Because he thinks he loves you," Tess replied.

"I think you need to go," Liz told her, opening the door and stepping aside to let her pass.

"Just think about what I said. Think about what you're keeping us from." Tess gave her a tight smile and turned to leave.

"Tess!" Liz called after her. "Remember that I really couldn't care less about what I'm keeping you from."

Tess smiled knowingly.

"But you do care about them."

* Thursday *

Max sat stiffly in the chair across Sheriff Valenti's desk. He was alone in the office, waiting for Valenti to finish up with a brief staff meeting down the hall. The deputy who had shown him in here had made some glib comment about Max's interest in law enforcement. The Sheriff had obviously given his officers a cover story for the amount of time the 17-year-old had been spending there.

The room was always dimly lit, the window shades drawn tight against the high afternoon sun, and the tall horizontal filing cabinets stacked against every wall made the room feel smaller than it was. The Sheriff's brown Stetson hung on a coat rack next to the open door, but other than that the room was devoid of any personal effects. Even the photo of Kyle had been removed when Valenti realized he could be putting his son in danger, just by letting strangers know he existed.

This was Max's fourth or fifth visit in the last couple of weeks. He never could have imagined the sort of calming influence Jim Valenti would end up having on his life. Finally, there was adult who knew the whole truth about them and who actually wanted to help him figure out what to do. An adult who wasn't Nasedo, that is, and who didn't have ulterior motives for giving advice.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," Valenti said, finally entering the cramped office and shutting the door behind him.

"No problem."

"I didn't expect to see you back so soon," the Sheriff told him, settling into his own chair and leaning back until the worn springs caught his weight.

"I don't mean to take up so much of your time, it's just that..." Max felt foolish, suddenly relying on a man who had—until weeks ago—been one of his worst enemies. "I can go."

Valenti shook his head and straightened up in the chair, scooting against the desk and leaning forward.

"Max, I told you that I would help you in any way I could. It's the least I can do to repay you for...how you helped Kyle."

"I'm the reason why he was hurt in the first place, I think it's the least I could do." Max shrugged his shoulders and grimaced, the images of what he had seen in Kyle's head coming back to him in flashes: Liz in a dim movie theater, an older man slumped in a wheelchair, the Sheriff coming home late at night, himself with Liz in the hallway at school.

"You didn't ask for this to happen."

"No, but we should have left town before anyone could find us, immediately after I healed Liz at the Crash Down that day. Maybe before, when we all first realized what we were, what we could do."

"So that is what the four of you have decided to do? Leave?" Valenti knew this was the direction they had been heading. In fact, it was the reason he was surprised to see Max in his office. He believed one day they would just be gone, and along with them everything he and his father had dedicated their careers to finding.

"It looks like our only choice. Tess keeps pushing us. Saying it's what Nasedo would want us to do, only we haven't been able to contact him to be sure."

"Do you know where you would go yet? Is there somewhere you think you'll be safe?"

Max shook his head, the familiar feeling of helplessness setting over him.

"We can't seem to get past leaving. People will look for us, Sheriff, we can't just disappear. Tess and Michael don't think this is a problem, but Is and I...we have family. People we care about."

"If this is what you want to do, and you're certain it's the best thing, I can help you. There are resources. But once you leave, it's permanent. You can't come back, you can't contact anyone here. Do you understand that?"

The boy looked scared to death but nodded, the color draining out of his face.

"I understand," he said. "And I know it's for the best. But Isabel, she's so scared to leave, and I don't blame her. We don't have anywhere to go. We don't know if we'll be safer without our friends and family, or if they'll be in more danger once we're gone."

"You know I'll do my best to protect anyone who stays here."

Max inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and gripping the arms of the chair tightly. It's for the best, he chanted in his head. It's destiny. He opened his eyes and exhaled. The decision was made.

"Let's do it."

"I'll make some calls, pull in a few favors." The intercom line on the desk phone buzzed, and Valenti answered it. "Yeah, go ahead."

"Kyle's on his way back to your office. Said something about you not standing him up for lunch again," the mechanical voice informed them. The Sheriff looked from Max to the door, both of them waiting for the inevitable knock that came moments later.

Kyle opened the door partway, poking his head in.

"They told me you were back here with some guy from the mentoring program at the high school. I couldn't wait to see who signed up to come...here." His voice trailed off when he noticed who was sitting across from his father. "Oh. Of course."

"Hey, Kyle."

"Max."

"Max was just leaving, Kyle. Let me see him out and you and I can go find some lunch. "

"Take your time. I need to call Liz about tonight anyway." Valenti threw a stern look at his son, who was obviously trying to make a stab at the other boy. "What? We're supposed to see a movie tonight."

"Um...you two have fun," Max offered, refusing to take the bait.

"Sure thing, Max." Kyle picked up the phone, pressing the button he knew would get him an outside line.

"I'll walk you to the front," Valenti offered.

"I think I can see my way out." Without another glance at Kyle, Max turned to leave. "Thanks for your help, Sheriff."

"Anytime," Kyle replied for his father.

*-*-*-*

The moon played hide-and-seek behind the gauzy clouds, alternately illuminating the rooftop where she sat and plunging it into darkness. There were dozens of candles in various states of melting strewn across the short, rough brick walls — but Liz refused to light them. Even the lights in her room had been left off in favor of night.

She sat on the wide window ledge, waiting for the sounds of his arrival. It wouldn't be long now. She'd only had to mutter one sentence, "I need to see you," and he had nearly dropped the phone receiver in his haste to get there. Just as she had known he would.

The Jeep engine roared as he pulled into a space on the street. She knew without looking that he had stopped underneath the streetlamp, his usual spot, and he'd be climbing the fire escape within moments. One time she'd actually counted the seconds it took him to make this same journey, and Max had teased her for being so interested in statistics. Even her science had become wrapped up in him.

His sneakers pounded softly on the street below, running, and then she heard the slaps of his palms against the metal rungs of the ladder. The moon ducked out of sight as he appeared, painting him in a dull gray.

"Liz?" His voice was a whisper as he pulled himself over the edge. She was hidden against the black of her room, and he almost missed her as he scanned the rooftop.

"I'm here," she whispered back, pushing away from the window and rising to meet him. He reached for her and she slid easily into his arms. She deserved this. They deserved this.

"I came as soon as I could," he spoke into her hair. "Is something wrong?"

Liz laughed into his chest, the sound stiff and humorless. He held her tighter, smoothing the hair down her back and continuing lower until he pressed into the small of her back. The dead laughter ceased and she pulled back from him.

"When is something not wrong lately?" she asked. "I can't even remember what it's like. Can you? Can you remember, Max, when something wasn't wrong?"

Max could remember. She had fallen asleep in his arms that night in the desert. Just the two of them, underneath an endless, star-filled sky. And she had kissed him in the morning, not caring that they would have to face their parents or worrying about the orb they had found.

"Tell me what's wrong," he begged her. "I can't help you if you won't tell me."

"Tess came to see me."

He stepped away from her, confused, and walked a few steps away.

"And I think that some of what she said makes sense." Liz let him be, retreating to her window ledge.

"Why? Why would she do that?"

"Because she thinks I can talk you into facing it all. Destiny." She paused. "Her."

"You agree with that? You think I should just drop everything to be with...her?" Max was incredulous.

"No! I mean, not necessarily."

"What did she say to you, Liz?" He walked toward her in slow, measured steps, stopping just before reaching the window. The girl lifted her chin and met his gaze in what she hoped was a convincing warning for him to keep his distance.

"Are you staying here because of me?" "Is that what she told you?" Max leaned his back against the wall and slid into a crouch beside her, grimacing as the brick snagged his tee shirt and clawed at his back.

"Answer the question, Max. Am I keeping you in Roswell?"

He looked up at her and was surprised to see how changed she was. Her large brown eyes were now rimmed with puffy, smudge-like circles. The cut of her cheekbones was sharper, the curves in her collarbones deeper. Her lower lip was cracked where she continuously chewed on it. In two weeks she had started to fade, and Max hated himself for missing it. For not seeing it and being able to stop it.

"No," he answered finally. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she looked at him hard. "It's the truth. Why we're still here, it's...complicated. What we know about ourselves, where we came from, amounts to almost nothing."

"You still don't have any direction, do you?" she asked him gently, sliding her hands under her thighs in an effort to keep from reaching out to him. "I wish I could help you, Max. But I can't, not now."

"But you do!" He was sincere, his liquid brown eyes peering at her behind endless lashes. "Just being with you makes my head clearer. It's like—it's easier to breathe when I'm with you."

"Max," She squeaked out his name, and her voice became cracked and weak. "I want you to leave. Roswell. I want you to forget about...me, and...this. It's what you have to do now."

He twisted his whole body toward her, placing one hand on either side of her, trapping her on the window ledge. At first he didn't say anything, just listened to her ragged breathing and watched her struggle to remain strong. He brought his face close to hers, so they were cheek to cheek and he could hear the air hitch in her chest.

"Can't you feel it? This thing between us," he stopped and rubbed his skin against hers. Liz swayed forward until she leaned against his chest. "It keeps growing even when we're apart. It's the reason we couldn't stay away from each other in the first place."

"Being with me can only make things harder for you." She hadn't wanted to end up this way, vulnerable and shaking in his arms. But somehow it seemed inevitable, that each time they were near, they would come together.

"Being with you, even for a little while, is the only thing that has kept me alive, Liz."

She rested her forehead on his shoulder. Even for a little while, she thought to herself.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" She knew it was true, even before she felt him nod against her. A little while, not forever. He'd accepted it.

"I haven't told the others yet," he told her, pulling back to see her reaction. "I went to Valenti this afternoon. We need his help to leave. There can't be a search for us once we're gone. It's got to be final."

"Final." She repeated. The pain in her heart blossomed and spread throughout her body until even her fingertips ached. This was it. One day he'd be gone and she'd never see him again. "When?"

"A week, ten days at the most."

"It might as well be hours." Ten days out of the rest of her life was nothing.

"I want you there when I tell them."

"Tess will be so happy," she said, bitterly. "And Michael. This is what he's always wanted."

"Isabel is going to hate me, Liz. She's so scared about what this will do to our parents. She wants to stay."

"But this can't be about what she wants. What you want."

He shook his head slowly. Max dug his fingers into her hair, pressing hard against her scalp. His touch was desperate and possessive, holding her still as he memorized the lines of her face. If this were about what he wanted, he would stay just like this forever.

"Will you come with me? Please?"

She nodded and he could feel the sinew of her neck slide under his fingers. Everything about her was amplified now that he had made his decision. Max stood and grasped her hand, pulling her away from the window.

"They're waiting for me."

"Now?" She dug in her heels, resisting. It was too soon. She wasn't ready to share him.

"It's already in motion, Liz. They have to know."

She had already made up her mind. Liz nodded and following him into the night, resigned to her destiny of ten days.

*Friday*

They sat in the Jeep, looking up at the bright windows in Michael's apartment. Almost an hour had passed since they arrived, and neither could make the move to get out of the vehicle. The streets were deserted. There was nothing to do in Roswell after midnight, not even on a weekend. The rest of the town was already asleep, or well on its way.

"Someone keeps looking out the window," Liz said. "They know you're here. And they know that I'm with you."

"Yeah." He inhaled deeply and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure we both know that's what they've been talking about this whole time."

For the first time that night Liz thought about Maria. Her best friend should be here for this, should be here with Michael. But it was too late for her to call the DeLuca house, and Amy would never let Maria leave this late. She vowed to fill her in first thing in the morning.

"We should go up," she announced, stifling a yawn. Max nodded.

"Might as well get this over with."

*-*-*-*

"Finally!" Tess huffed, stepping away from the window and joining Isabel on the couch. "It's bad enough that he brought her, but to make us wait? They've been out there for hours."

"But they're coming up now, right?" Michael hopped off the kitchen counter and went to open the door, peering out. Max was just stepping into the hallway, a nervous-looking Liz following behind.

"Hey. I'm sorry we were late," Max told him, hoping there would be no questions about Liz's right to be there. "We were just —"

"Sitting in the Jeep for the last fifty-eight minutes." Michael actually smiled at them, holding open the door to let them inside. "We know. It's not a problem."

Max nodded at him in thanks and turned to Liz, silently asking her if she was ready for this. She slipped her arm through his and took a deep breath, allowing him to lead her through the door and over to a sheet-covered armchair in the corner. Max sat on the floor at her feet, leaning back against her knees, a constant reminder that he was still there with her.

"We weren't expecting you to bring a visitor," Tess told him, looking somewhere in the vicinity of his feet in order to avoid Liz.

"She should be here. They all should be," Isabel interjected, looking pointedly at Michael. "They're part of this."

"Still, this is hardly a decision they get to have input on," the other girl continued.

"It's strange you'd say that, Tess, since you seemed to think Liz should have an opinion when you went to see her yesterday." Max watched her lips tighten at his words, her pale blue eyes narrowing. The two stared at each other until Tess looked away, crossing her arms and leaning back into the couch.

"I'm not here to cause problems," Liz spoke up for herself. "Max asked me to come, and I did. It's that simple."

"I've got no problem with it," Michael told her, envying the way the two of them still seemed to fit together, even after everything they'd been through. He ached to have Maria there, just to anchor him the way Liz seemed to do for Max.

"I'm assuming there's a reason we've been sitting around waiting for you all night?"

Tess seemed unable to control the venom in her voice. Isabel rolled her eyes at the other girl, but felt herself growing impatient at her brother's silence.

"Why'd we have to meet tonight?" Michael crowded between the girls on the couch, spreading his feet out in front of him. It did not escape his notice that Liz had grown tense at his question, chewing on her bottom lip and squeezing her hands together in her lap.

"I've made a decision." Max said reluctantly, watching for Isabel's reaction. Tears welled immediately in her eyes and she clutched the arm of the couch.

"I'm not staying in this town," Tess said forcefully, struggling to pull herself off the couch. Michael grabbed her arm and kept her next to him.

"Shut. Up." He said without looking at her. She yanked away but stayed put.

"We're leaving." Max's voice was hollow, followed by utter silence.

Isabel stared at him, her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. A gasping sound wrenched from her throat and she began to sob, not even bothering to resist Michael as he pulled her into his arms. Max rested his head on Liz's knee, savoring her fingers running through his hair as he watched Isabel fall apart.

"This is great!" Tess came to life. "When do we get to go?" Everyone ignored her but Liz. The dark-haired girl bent forward and kissed Max on the crown of his head, making sure Tess saw the movement.

"At least pretend that you care about them," she told the blond before turning all her attention back to the boy at her feet. She slid into the floor, cradling Max in her arms as she felt his shoulders begin to shake.

"Why would you all be upset about this? It was inevitable. It always has been." Unhindered Tess stood up and watched the other four, wrapped in each other, mourning. "We've got to tell Nasedo. He'll be ale to help us."

"Valenti is going to take care of everything." Max pulled away from Liz, crawling over to Isabel and taking her hand. "He'll make sure everyone is okay when we're gone. Please, Is, please understand it has to be this way."

Michael let her go and Isabel nodded at Max, her beautiful face red and streaked with tears. She knew this decision had not been made lightly, that he had wanted the outcome to be anything but this. She should have known, though, when he brought Liz, that he had made up his mind. Max was not strong enough to leave without making things better between them.

"When?" Isabel asked the same question Liz had asked earlier, perhaps dreading the answer even more.

"One week, maybe two."

The once-haughty girl crumpled again, and this time it was Max who held her as she cried. Michael sat still beside her, stunned. His head was a jumble of thoughts, his heart a tangle of feelings. He caught Liz staring at him with wet eyes and was immediately overcome with claustrophobia.

"I've gotta get out of here." He shoved off the couch, half-running toward the door.

"Michael, wait!" Max called after him.

"Shh," Isabel whispered in his ear. "He needs her."

*-*-*-*

Maria pushed a pair of baby blue pajama bottoms off her slender hips and kicked them across the room. The covers had been pushed to the foot of the bed hours ago, as she restlessly tried to find sleep. Even at three in the morning, the heat overpowered the trickle her mother allowed from the air conditioner.

She rolled onto her left side, grimacing as the too-large tee shirt twisted about her small frame. She yanked on it, hard, and heard one of the seams give way. Her hand floundered for the light and she searched for the tear, finding a tiny split in the side. Maria rubbed the tattered, faded black jersey and closed her eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he had said, looking at her with serious eyes. "Can't you call in sick?"

"I might as well make it dead," she'd replied. "My mom's going to kill me when she realizes I didn't come home last night."

Michael had watched her get dressed, grinning as she automatically slipped into the shirt he'd taken off the night before. Maria had flashed him a smile over her shoulder, pulling on her jeans and slipping into her sandals.

"I'll call you later," he'd told her, propping himself up on the pillows and pushing the sheet to his waist. She had wanted to climb right back in with him, savor the feel of his arms, the taste of his skin. But she'd gone to work and learned that her mother hadn't even checked in on her that night.

And he hadn't called.

Maria flipped off the light and leaned against the headboard of her bed, holding the torn material together as if she could fuse it with her mind. If she were one of them, she'd be able to. She'd also be able to stay with him, maybe be the one he was meant for. She wasn't, though. Maria couldn't even have visions for him.

The floorboards creaked in the hall, startling her. Maria scooted down in the bed, grabbing the top blanket and closing her eyes. Her bedroom door groaned on its hinges, and soft footsteps moved toward her bed. Burying her face into the pillow she silently begged her mother to go back to her own room.

"Are you awake?" Michael's voice was so soft she had to open her eyes to believe he was there. She nodded her head and motioned for him to close the door, smiling in the dark as he twisted the lock as well.

"How'd you get in through the house?" she asked when he had joined her on the bed.

"Trade secret." His eyes were darting around the room and he was sitting as far away from her as he could get. "I could tell you, but then..."

He didn't bother to finish the ridiculous cliché. Maria watched him shift around nervously and did not make a move to get closer to him. He would say what he had come to say in his own time.

"I saw Liz tonight. She looks like crap," he finally said, staring out the window. Maria was about to ask where, but he answered for her. "She came to my place with Max. He asked her, I guess."

"She was with Max?" Maria asked, incredulous. Liz wasn't supposed to be with Max. Of course, she wasn't supposed to be with Michael, either, yet here he was.

"I didn't know," he told her. "I would have asked you, if I had known."

"If you had known what?"

"That we're leaving," he replied. "Ten days. Tops."

Maria sat very still, suddenly feeling hot and dizzy.

"It's what you wanted," she managed, bunching the sheets in her fists.

"Yeah. Right." It is what you wanted, he told himself. Until it happened.

Michael turned to her and noticed his shirt, the neck stretched out and slipping off her shoulder. He tried to push it up, brushing against the soft skin of her shoulder as he did so. Maria held his hand against her, craning her neck to press her cheek against it. He sighed and glided her back into the pillows.

"I don't want to talk about it," he implored her, rubbing his nose against the base of her throat.

"What is there to say?" she wondered aloud. Besides I love you? Besides please don't go?

He pressed barely-there kisses on her neck while one hand caressed her bare thigh, moving up under the borrowed shirt. Maria moaned as he rubbed the sensitive skin of her stomach, and Michael captured the sound with his lips as he kissed her.

They moved together slowly, dragging out each touch, never insistent or impatient. He learned every inch of her, skimming his hands over her body until the pads of his fingers tingled with the slight friction.

"Love you," she murmured as he placed a kiss over her navel, his lips sliding on her sweat-coated skin, his teeth grazing across her hipbone.

Michael watched her struggle to keep her eyes open, the lids heavy with a mixture of desire and exhaustion. A lock of short, blond hair was stuck to one flushed cheek and she had one hand curled next to her face on the pillow. The other was wrapped in his hair. "I want to stay here, with you." The thought was perfectly ludicrous, and Michael knew it the moment he said it out loud.

Maria let her hand go slack against him, rolling her head to the side. She did not acknowledge his declaration, but she stored it away for when he was gone.

*-*-*-*

The seven of them overflowed the back corner booth at the Crash Down. Alex was pressed up against the wall by Michael and Maria, who were practically sitting on top of each other but were managing not to touch. Isabel shared the other side with an unusually quiet Tess. Max had pulled a stray chair up to the end of the table and Liz, clad in her waitress uniform, was sitting sideways across both his knees. His arm had been wrapped around her waist since she arrived.

Untouched drink cups shared the table with straw wrappers and napkins soaking in condensation. At some point Isabel had ordered a club sandwich to break the silence, and it sat between her and Alex, getting cold. Tess refused to look at Max and Liz, and they did not talk to anyone but each other, murmuring secrets into each other's ears.

Maria could feel Alex bouncing his leg under the table, and wanted to press her hand against his knee and yell for him to stop. Instead she watched Michael watching her out of the corner of her eye.

It was too soon for the lunch crowd to come dragging in, so the tinkling sound of the bell announcing a new arrival drew seven pair of eyes to the door. Valenti strode in, tipping his hat to Liz's father behind the counter before making his way to the attentive crowd in the back of the room.

"I don't think there's going to be any problem extending the summer mentor program like you wanted," he addressed Max, loud enough for the two other patrons and Mr. Parker to hear.

"That's great," Max replied, falsely expressing the sentiment. "How much longer?"

"I'd say, we'll have all your objectives met before the end of the month."

In their heads, each of the seven calculated the days. Liz smiled woodenly and pushed back into Max. Maria's head dropped to Michael's shoulder. Isabel pressed her leg against Alex's suddenly still one under the table. Tess stared at the uneaten sandwich.

"I'd best be getting back to the office," Valenti told them. "You all take care."

He looked hard at Max, eliciting a barely perceptible nod. Yes, it said. It's what we want. Valenti acknowledged it and walked back out of the restaurant. The crowd in the booth grew even quieter and did not watch him leave.

It was done.

-------

end

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