BRILLIANT DISGUISE
By Midwest Max

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Part One



God have mercy on the man
Who doubts what he's sure of
– Bruce Springsteen, “Brilliant Disguise”


“Can you feel me, Isabel?”

Isabel Evans squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tried to concentrate only on what was going on in her head.

“Can you feel it now?”

She searched, trying to ignore the prodding voice that was trying to distract her.

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

Isabel’s dark eyes flew open as she jumped to her feet and she reached for the nearest object, which was unfortunately her cell phone. Using a very human power, she grasped the phone like a major-league pitcher and hurled it across the room. The fragile device smacked the wall and fell to the floor in many pieces.

“God dammit!” she screamed and grabbed her head with her hands. Her breath was unsteady with her frustration.

Down the hallway, Max Evans poked his head out of his room, caught sight of his sister’s distressed state and quickly pulled back like a turtle into its shell.

On the couch, Michael Guerin pursed his lips. He had his legs crossed casually ankle-over-knee and his arm was stretched across the back of the sofa. Glancing at his fingernails, he let out a little sigh. “Couldn’t find me again, huh?”

Isabel whirled on him. “Were you really there this time, Michael? Because last week when you said you were there when you weren’t - it wasn’t funny. And it’s not funny this time either.” Her fists were clenched, ready to fight with him.

Michael looked at her expressionlessly. “Yes, I was there.”

“Why did you keep talking to me?” she demanded. “Maybe I could concentrate if you’d just shut up, Michael.”

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands folded before him. “Don’t you think if this ever really did happen to you that you might need to get past other distractions? Or do you think someone getting into your head and staying there will only happen when you are conveniently isolated? Did you forget that I was in your head for six whole days and you were never aware of it? How many ‘distractions’ did you come across in that time?”

Isabel covered her face with her hands. “Okay. Okay, just stop it.” She let out a frustrated sigh and had to force the tears away.

They’d been doing this for weeks now. Michael would ‘plant’ himself in her head and make her try to find him. So far she’d been unsuccessful. It was an unnerving concept to think that someone could get in there and just take up residence. In the event that someone else, someone not as benevolent as Michael, should stumble upon this loophole in Isabel’s powers, she needed to know how to get them out.

A loophole. She’d never considered in a billion years that there would be a loophole in her powers. Powers were supposed to be invincible, indestructible. It’s not like Superman’s powers could be neutralized.

“Kryptonite,” Michael said.

Isabel dropped her hands and looked at him. “What?”

“Superman is destructible. Kryptonite neutralizes his powers.”

Her mouth dropped open and she reached for the next nearest object – a lamp – and started to throw it at him. “Get the fuck out of my head, Michael! You promised, Goddammit!”

Michael raised his hand and the lamp stopped in mid-air. In the old days, he would have used too much power and the lamp would have been dust. But now, since his ‘resurrection’, he had better control of his abilities.

Isabel’s eyes were ablaze as she realized her target had missed its mark. Furious, she raised her own hand and obliterated the lamp.

Michael looked at her silently, got up from the couch and walked down the hallway to his room, leaving her red and livid in the living room.

In the room adjacent to Michael’s, Liz Parker flinched every time Isabel swore. She was before her closet, getting dressed for her job. On the bed, Max was trying to pick grease and dirt from beneath his fingernails with a pair of nail clippers.

“She’s starting to sound like a truck driver,” Liz mumbled more to herself than anyone else.

Max looked up, watched Liz pull her shirt over her head. Her back was to him and he let his eyes follow the curves of her body, from her shoulders down to her calves. “She’s just getting a little frustrated,” he explained gently.

“Do you think?” Liz asked flatly as she pulled the pink waitress uniform over her head. Four thousand miles of highway just to end up a waitress again. It depressed her more than she could ever tell anyone to be stuck in the same life she’d left behind. But they needed the money and they had all taken crappy jobs to help pay the rent.

Sheriff Valenti had wired enough money for them to secure an apartment, but rent in Boston was expensive and they’d only been able to get one place. There were three bedrooms; Max and Liz had one, Michael and Maria Deluca another, and Isabel the last. Kyle Valenti, by default, had no room of his own and lived on the couch, though Isabel had allocated him some space in her closet for his belongings. Ironic that not only was Liz stuck in the same job, Kyle was stuck sleeping on the couch just like he had been when Tess claimed his room back in Roswell.

Max eyed her sympathetically. He knew she was unhappy but had no idea what to do about it. Space was tight – their room was only eleven feet by eleven feet – and communal living was starting to wear on Liz’s nerves.

She turned around as she buttoned the uniform, didn’t look at him.

“What time do you get off?” he asked her, his voice soft.

“I close,” she sighed. “Which means probably two.”

“Want me to stay up for you?”

She looked at him and shook her head, gave a little laugh that was void of any amusement. “Why? So you can drag to work in the morning? No, just go to sleep whenever you normally do.”

Max swallowed. They spent so much time apart now that she didn’t even know when he went to bed anymore. He slid off the bed and took her by the shoulders. All of his body language was telling her to look at him, to kiss him, but she just stared straight ahead at his chest. He resorted to kissing her forehead and drawing her to him, but she resisted.

“You’ll wrinkle me,” she protested quietly and backed away from him, smoothed the front of the short dress.

Max blinked. He recalled the first day she’d brought that uniform home – she’d put it on, asked him what he’d like to order and he’d shown her exactly what he wanted. Then the next day when she dressed to go to work, he’d shown her again, against the wall, creating many wrinkles in that tacky pink uniform. And now she was suddenly worried about her appearance?

“I have to go,” she said as she slung her purse over her shoulder and left the room.

Max watched her leave, his shoulders sagging sadly. Slowly, he sank to the bed and looked out the window. The view was the brick wall of the building next to theirs. Boston was crowded, cramped and sometimes Max felt like he couldn’t breathe. No wonder Liz was getting depressed.

In the hallway, the bathroom door closed with a bang and Max sighed. Six people and one bathroom was just not good. On nights when they all happened to be home, they literally formed a line outside of the bathroom, toothbrushes and towels in hand, like the Brady Bunch. Maria had become really good at being the first in line and Max wondered if she’d acquired some psychic power of her own that alerted her when everyone else’s thoughts shifted to dental hygiene. Kyle was usually last and spent the entire time bitching about it and making everyone else miserable while they waited.

Max had to wonder if Kyle had a psychic ability, too, because just as he’d thought of him, Kyle was at the end of the bed.

“My job sucks,” he said.

“My heart bleeds for you,” replied Max, who had been rotating tires and doing oil changes for the last three weeks.

Kyle blinked. “Boy, oh, boy. Get you out of Roswell and the snark just boils out of you, doesn’t it, Evans?” Without waiting for a reply, he thrust his driver’s license toward the alien. “Make me 21.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“I need to be 21 for this new job I want to try to get.” He rolled his eyes toward the hallway. “I’d ask Isabel but she’d probably tell me to go fuck myself or something.”

Max sighed. Tight spaces, one bathroom and a high-maintenance sister who was not in good humor. For some reason, he thought he heard a time-bomb ticking somewhere.

“21,” Kyle reminded, waggling his license.

Max reached out and used his powers to alter Kyle’s birth date.

Kyle smiled and shoved the license back into his wallet. “Thanks, dude.”

As he was leaving, Max called, “What’s the job?” If it was better than oil changes and tire rotations, maybe Max should be 21 too.

Kyle stopped, gave a wicked smile over his shoulder. “Can’t tell you. Don’t expect me home until late.”

Max watched him go and frowned. He wasn’t sure which was worse – not knowing what Kyle was up to or wondering if Kyle had found something better than what Max had.

With the apartment a little less crowded, Max ventured out into the living room, found Michael on the couch watching TV.

“Where’s Iz?” Max asked.

“Locked in the bathroom again,” Michael said, then corrected himself. “Sorry - the fucking bathroom.”

Max gave a worried glance down the hallway. Tight spaces and a high-maintenance, humorless sister who had locked herself in the one and only bathroom. “Could you go a little easier on her?”

Michael looked at his friend, shrugged. “Why should I?”

“This is getting her nowhere but upset, Michael,” Max said as he slid into a chair. “It can’t be helping.”

Michael snorted. “Well, I don’t see you trying to help her.”

Max felt a bit like a knife was twisting in his gut. Since Michael had returned, his powers seemed stronger and more varied than they had ever been. In the past, Max had been the dominant one, had been the ‘leader’, but he was starting to think that if push ever came to shove, Michael just might kick his ass.

“I would if I could,” Max said calmly.

Michael’s expression was smug. “Yeah, I know you would. But you can’t.”

As he returned to watching the TV, Max studied him for a long moment. It was just possible in Michael’s case that absolute power would corrupt absolutely.






Part Two



When Liz returned home from work, she slid into the shower and washed the fryer grease from her hair. She found that she could shower quietly and stood a better chance of getting hot water if she showered in the middle of the night instead of in the morning with everyone else. Besides, she didn’t think it fair to Max to go to bed smelling like a greasy café.

In the bedroom, she tiptoed silently to her side of the bed and pulled back the covers. As she slipped between the sheets, Max rolled over to face her and she felt a little stab of guilt.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“I was awake,” he answered, his voice void of sleepiness.

Liz eyed him curiously then glanced at the clock – it was after three. “You waited up for me?”

He nodded.

“Why? You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care. I wanted to talk to you.”

Liz rolled onto her side to face him, pulled the blankets up beneath her armpit. “About what?”

In the dark, she saw his eyes shift toward the ceiling and he drew in a deep breath. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she answered automatically, so automatically that Max was sure she hadn’t even digested his question.

“Are you really?” he asked. “Because I feel you slipping away from me, Liz. And I don’t want you to. I want you to be happy.”

She looked down at the space between them, realized that he hadn’t made an attempt to touch her. It was odd that he hadn’t and odder that she hadn’t noticed immediately. But she had pushed him away earlier and Max didn’t deal well with rejection.

“Tell me,” he said gently.

Now Liz sighed. “I can’t be happy here, Max.”

“Tell me,” he prodded. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Everything. The fact that we’re living with four other people. The fact that the walls are thin and every time I think about touching you I worry that someone will hear – not that that has stopped Michael and Maria. I’m tired of having to shower at three in the morning to get hot water. I’m tired of having no privacy. I’m tired of taking turns cooking and shopping for six people. I’m tired of having to be careful when I come home in the morning or in the evening because I don’t know when Kyle will be trying to sleep on the couch – which I’m sure is as annoying to him as it is to everyone else. I’m tired of having no privacy, Max. I’m miserable.”

Max’s dark eyes were round and he remained silent.

“I want our own place,” Liz announced.

“Liz,” he started carefully. “We can’t do that. We don’t make enough money.”

She let out a sigh, rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Same old story.”

Max propped himself up on one elbow. “It’s not a story. It’s the truth. Believe me, if I thought we could make it on our own, I’d be out of here, too.”

She turned her head to regard him. “Then let’s go home.”

His lips parted as if to respond, but no sound came out.

“Why can’t we do that?” Liz challenged. “Michael and Kyle said there were no FBI agents in Roswell, just reporters. Don’t you think they’ve given up and left by now?”

Max scratched his forehead. “Liz, I can’t leave right now.”

“Why not, Max?”

“Because there’s something going on with Isabel and Michael. You’ve seen how she is and I’m worried about the way he’s been acting. I can’t go away and leave them alone.”

Liz snorted. “And again – the same old story. Jesus, Max, when are you going to stop being their babysitter?”

Max withdrew a bit at her words. “I’m not their babysitter. The three of us have to stick together, Liz. It’s different for us.”

She watched him silently. “Of course,” she said eventually, her voice holding a tone of finality. Then she rolled onto her side, away from him and pulled the blanket over her shoulder. “You should get some sleep. You have to get up in a few hours.”


Maria stood at one end of the couch and watched Kyle sleep. He was lying on his stomach, clothed only in his underwear, and was snoring rather loudly. Maria bent a bit at the waist and looked at his parted lips, checking for drool and making a mental note to never lay face-down on the couch.

Liz was suddenly beside her, coffee cup in hand, scratching her head. Maria was dressed for her secretary job and Liz was immediately envious that Maria had found a job that might have paid as horribly as Liz’s did, but at least allowed her to dress decently.

“What time did he get in?” Liz asked, her voice a tired croak.

Maria’s nose wrinkled as she regarded their scantily-clad, drooling friend. “I don’t know. And what’s that smell?”

Liz moved her coffee cup out of the way and sniffed the air above Kyle. “Cigarette smoke. A lot of it. And maybe stale beer or something like that.”

Maria cocked her head. “Is he bartending now? Is that why he needed to be 21?”

Liz shrugged and moved for the kitchenette, Maria close behind her. They slid into chairs at the small table.

“So, what’s going on with you?” Maria asked, opening her purse and checking her lipstick in her compact mirror.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re brooding a little more than normal, Liz. And do you ever sleep?”

Liz put her cup on the table and frowned. “Max woke me up when he left,” she said, sighing. “He just cannot walk quietly. He’s got big feet to begin with and then he wears those stupid work boots and all he does is clunk when he walks.”

Silently, Maria raised her eyebrows. Liz had never complained at such length about any of Max’s annoying habits. Maria, on the other hand, could make a veritable shopping list of irritating Max traits, especially now that they co-habited.

“So, is it true what they say about guys with big feet?” she finally asked.

Liz chose to ignore her. “I mean, is it asking so much that he waits until he gets to the door and then puts on his shoes?” Her gaze shifted to the snoring Kyle. “Oh, I guess that wouldn’t work, either.”

Maria reached across the table and took Liz’s small hand in hers. “Sweetie, you need a vacation.”

“I thought that’s what this was supposed to be,” Liz replied, her lips turning down into a frown. “I thought that we were going to stay away from Roswell for awhile, see the ocean, go to Fenway Park.”

“We saw the ocean,” Maria corrected. “And we did go to Fenway, remember?”

“Yes, but now what?” Liz asked. “I hadn’t planned on settling down here, getting a job and being domestic.”

“We needed the money, Liz. We couldn’t just keep running forever. I thought the agreement was that we would stop, make some money and then keep going.” Maria was confused – it was unlike Liz to be so irrational, so ungrounded.

Liz sighed. “But all of the money we earn is going toward living expenses, Maria. We aren’t saving anything. We will never move on this way.” Her eyes settled on Kyle’s nearly-naked body. “And I’m not sure how many more mornings of staring at Kyle’s underwear I can stand.”

Maria burst out laughing, the noise causing Kyle to shift in his sleep. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her giggle.

Against her will, Liz laughed lightly. “Oh, Maria, ignore me. I’m just tired and feeling a little claustrophobic.”

Before Maria could respond, Michael emerged from their bedroom wearing his toll-taker uniform. Liz wasn’t sure which was worse – waiting tables or sitting in a toll booth on I-95 all day. Michael stooped and kissed Maria on the cheek as he fixed his tie.

“I’m going back to bed,” Liz said and let Michael take her chair. “I should be able to get a few more hours before Kyle gets up and starts making noise.”

Neither Michael nor Maria paid much attention to their friend as she made her way back to her bedroom. Michael took Maria’s hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“I miss you,” he told her.

“Ditto, dude,” she laughed.

“Half day for me today,” he told her. “I’ll bring you lunch.”

Her eyes lit up. “Maybe I could have a half day, too.”

He smiled. “That would be nice.” He leaned across the table and kissed her. “Tell them you have a dentist appointment – at the Colonial Inn.”

Maria giggled, then drew in a breath as Michael’s lips touched her neck. “Do they have room service?”

He laughed lightly, his breath a little puff of air against her throat. “Tell you what – you get the room and I’ll service you.”


Later that evening, Isabel was laying face-down on her bed when Kyle knocked on her door.

“Can I come in?”

She nodded without looking up, assuming he wanted to get fresh clothes out of the closet.

“Come for a walk with me,” he said and she rolled over to look at him.

“I don’t feel like it, Kyle.”

He nodded. “Sure, you do.” He went to the closet and pulled out a light blue sundress. “And put this on.”

Her pretty brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, just do it,” Kyle said, his voice neither whiny nor demanding. He rummaged on the floor of the closet until he found a pair of sandals. “And these, too.”

Isabel blinked, then Kyle made a face at her and she had to laugh. After shooing him from the room, she put on the dress and sandals even though she didn’t know why.

Outside, they walked in the cool evening air, Kyle looking upward at the tall buildings.

“What are you doing?” Isabel asked, her tone amused.

“Still looking for the Ally McBeal building.”

She shook her head. “Don’t you think maybe it was a set?”

“Oh, no – it’s a real building, I just know it. The Drew Carey building is real.”

“How do you know? You’ve never been to Cleveland.”

He shrugged. “Some things I just know,” he said cryptically, comically. “Trust me, Kyle is good, Kyle is wise.”

At that, Isabel gave a true, hearty laugh and Kyle smiled.

“It’s good to hear you laugh,” he said.

She smiled and looked at her feet, self-conscious.

Not one to ever make Isabel squirm, Kyle changed the subject. “Hmm, let’s see. What is the most depressing song lyric of all time?”

It was a game they’d started while confined in the Chevelle. One would ask a question and the other would have to give their answer and ask the next question. Isabel looked to the sky, happy to have the discussion of her disposition of late put on the back burner.

“Oh, yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone,” she answered. “John Cougar Mellencamp – before he dropped the Cougar – ‘Jack and Diane.’”

Kyle considered. “Yep, I’ll give you that one. Next question.”

“What is the dumbest line ever spoken in a movie?”

He thought for awhile. “Um, Titanic, the Kate Winslet character. ‘It’s like being in a dream or something. There’s truth but no logic.’”

Isabel laughed freely, mostly because Kyle had raised the pitch of his voice to speak like a girl. “Okay, that’s a good one. Next question.”

They stopped at an intersection and Kyle tugged her arm gently, urging her to turn the corner with him. “What is the most confusing rock song ever written?”

Isabel bit her lip, watched the cracks of the sidewalk disappear beneath her feet. “Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“What!” Kyle shrieked. “That’s a classic, man!”

“Yes, it’s a classic, but what does it mean?”

He paused, lips parted for rebuttal. “I don’t know,” he laughed. “All I know is I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me.”

Isabel cocked her head and put a hand on his arm. “Everybody loves you, Kyle.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I’m still poor.” Then a devilish grin appeared on his face and he stopped before a green door and reached for the handle. “But I’m not poor tonight.”

She looked up at the door, then the sign above it. Kyle had brought her to a restaurant she’d been eyeing since they’d landed in Boston. Involuntarily, her mouth dropped open – this little, out-of-the-way Italian eatery was way out of their budget.

“Kyle,” she said, “we don’t have the money for this.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I do. Good tips last night.”

Isabel looked uncomfortable. “But we should use that money for the electric bill or –“

“Or making you smile,” he finished for her. “I won’t take no for an answer. And if you don’t come in with me, I’m going to look really stupid eating by myself. Especially if those strolling violin guys come around.”

She studied him for a moment and realized there was no arguing with him. Relenting, she smiled and followed him into the restaurant. She wasn’t sure where Kyle had come up with the money, but the others didn’t need to know that they’d treated themselves.

Feeling happy for the first time in a long time, Isabel returned back to the apartment with Kyle, full and content. Inside, they found Michael perched in his usual spot in front of the TV. Isabel looked down at her shoes while Kyle made a trip to the bathroom. She hated this, hated the friction that now stood between her and someone she had once considered a brother.

“ Whiter Shade of Pale,” Michael finally said without looking away from the TV.

Isabel looked up at him. “What?”

His reply made her blood run cold.

“By Procol Harum. That was the most confusing rock song ever written.”






Part Three



“Isabel, look at me.”

Max was sitting at the edge of Isabel’s bed, his eyes a mixture of confusion and sympathy. Against the headboard, Isabel had her knees pulled up to her chin, her head buried in her arms and was sobbing uncontrollably. Every time Max reached for her, she jerked out of his reach and told him to go away.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded gently, reaching for her arm again. “Why are you so upset?”

She lifted her head and Max withdrew at the look on her face – it was a mask of agony, of fear. “Michael,” she choked out.

Max blinked. Yes, Michael could be a jerk sometimes, but never had he prompted this sort of reaction from Isabel. “What about Michael?”

She pointed a finger at her temple. “He’s in there, Max,” she managed between sobs. “And he won’t get out.”

“What do you mean?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “I mean he’s always with me.” Her bottom lip quivered and Max waited while she struggled to keep the tears away. “Kyle treated me to dinner and when we got home, Michael made a comment on a conversation Kyle and I had while walking to the restaurant.”

Max’s eyes were round. “You didn’t know he was in your head?”

Isabel shook her head, then started crying again. Max reached across the distance that separated them and pulled her close.

“I’ll talk to Michael,” he said into her hair. “I’ll get him to stop.”

She clutched his back, sobbing, and knew that there was nothing Max could do to make Michael stop.


Liz pulled up the bed skirt and peered underneath it. She couldn’t see what she was looking for, so she had to get down on all fours. Toward the middle of the bed, in a pool of dust bunnies, lay one of Max’s socks. Grumbling, Liz flattened herself on the floor and reached for the illusive sock, could barely touch it with her fingertips. When she realized she couldn’t reach it, she let out a disgusted burst of air and pushed herself to her feet.

Just what had he done to fling his sock that far under the bed? Irritated, she walked around to the other side of the bed, dropped to her knees and easily retrieved the sock. She tossed it onto the top of the laundry basket as Max entered their room.

“Have you seen Michael?” he asked, his voice sounding strained.

“No,” Liz snapped and bent to pick up the basket.

“Do you know where he-“

“No, Max, I don’t know where he went. I don’t know what time he will be home. I don’t know anything, okay? And would it be so difficult for you to make sure all of your dirty clothes make it into the basket?”

Max’s eyes were round as he regarded her, then his brows knitted together. “Are you okay?”

She met his gaze and sighed. “I shouldn’t have to crawl under the bed to get your dirty socks, Max. I’m not your damned wife and even if I was, I shouldn’t have to hunt down your laundry.”

He nodded. “You’re right.” Not sure what to do, he scratched his head. “Want me to take your turn with the laundry?”

Liz rolled her eyes. “No. I’ve got it.” She brushed past him to head for the laundry room on the first floor of the apartment building.

“Liz,” Max said when she reached their bedroom door.

She turned slowly, looked at him with dwindling patience.

“It will get better,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

She looked at him for a moment, then turned on her heels and left silently.

Max watched her leave and frowned. He could feel them drifting and it was coming more and more difficult to read her emotions. Once upon a time, he’d been able to predict every one of Liz’s moods and actions, but now he was dumbfounded most of the time. She wasn’t even moody – she was just unhappy all the time. And he had no idea how to make things right for her.

The apartment had a rickety, nearly unsafe balcony and that’s where Max found Michael. He was sitting with his face pointed toward the sky, his eyes closed.

Without looking up, Michael said, “What do you want, Maxwell?”

Max uneasily sat down in the chair beside his friend. He hated this balcony, hated that he felt like it swayed when the wind blew. Someday, balcony, chairs and perhaps an alien or two were going to fall to the cement far below them.

“We need to talk about Isabel,” he said, swallowing and avoiding looking down.

“What about her?”

“You need to get out of her head, Michael.”

Michael opened his eyes and looked at his friend. “I am out of her head,” he said simply, then pursed his lips and snorted. “She can’t even tell I’m not there, can she?”

Max’s brow furrowed. “Michael, this isn’t funny and it certainly isn’t helping her. Are you trying to hurt her?”

“No,” Michael said defensively. “I’m trying to help her protect herself.”

“But right now all you’re doing is scaring her. You need to change your approach.”

Michael gave an amused smile. “You think? What would you know about it?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I mean you have no idea what I’m capable of, Max. For all you know, I could be in your head right now.”

Max withdrew. His powers had always been stronger than Michael’s and certainly he’d know if someone was crawling around in his head…wouldn’t he?

Michael laughed. “You’re wondering now, aren’t you?” He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes again, folded his hands over his stomach. “You’re wondering if maybe little Mikey has something you don’t, right?” He shrugged again. “And I guess until you can learn to do what I can do and can try to control me – like you always do – you’re just gonna have to let me deal with Iz.”

Max shook his head. “Michael –“

He held up a hand. “End of subject, Maxwell. Now go away – you’re interrupting my nap.”


In the morning, Maria pulled open the refrigerator and saw a large white paper-wrapped package from the butcher. That was an oddity since the refrigerator usually held a bottle of water, a six-pack of yogurt and not much else. She poked the package curiously with her finger, then closed the door. On the whiteboard where the six cohabitants posted notes to one another, Kyle had written “Maria – could you stick the steaks in some marinade before you leave for work? Thanks.”

Maria’s nose crinkled and she looked toward the living room where Kyle was sleeping on the couch. As of yet, he’d been unwilling to give up any information about his new occupation, only saying that the tips were good. She snorted – the tips must be very good if he could afford to buy steaks for everyone.


A few days later, Liz returned home from work around ten at night to find Max sitting on the couch waiting for her. She gave him a little smile, curious as to why he was smiling so widely at her.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, rising but not taking her hand.

Internally, she frowned. She just didn’t feel like making love to Max right now.

“We have to get up really early tomorrow,” he announced before she could voice her reluctance.

“Why?” she half-laughed.

“I have a surprise for you,” he answered, grinning. “But come to bed. I’ll tell you about it then.” He walked back to the bedroom, hoping she was following him and hoping this might make things better for them.

Boston Pops. Esplanade. Tens of thousands of people. The Charles River on the Fourth of July.

Liz had thought it all rather corny, but Max’s childlike excitement had compelled her to accept his date. The air was unbelievably humid, almost unbreathable throughout most of the day, but that hadn’t prevented them from staking claim to a prime lawn spot not far from the stage. Since the crowd would be huge, they’d had to arrive very early in the morning to assure themselves of a seat at all. Every time Liz thought she couldn’t take the muggy air any longer as she sat on the blanket they had brought with them, she’d catch Max out of the corner of her eye, waving a hand casually. Then a cool breeze would drift over her neck and across her body and she would smile. It was kind of neat to be with a traveling air conditioner.

Sitting in the sun, watching Max’s dark skin grow even darker, listening to him talk about trivial things like baseball and the latest Counting Crows CD, Liz thought that maybe she’d been a little harsh with him over the last few weeks, that maybe this time alone was exactly what they needed and she started to relax. They even took a nap together in mid-afternoon; as thousands of people stepped around them they remained undisturbed, curled together like cats. When they awoke, Liz thought again that maybe, just maybe things would be okay between them.

The show wasn’t corny and Liz realized she had never seen a live orchestra in any capacity. This concert, this effort on Max’s part was a gift to her. The music was incredible, some of it bringing tears to her eyes as only music can. When the cannons went off during “The 1812 Overture” and startled her into nearly screaming, Max laughed and held her against him, his body warm and comfortable.

The fireworks display was the most amazing Liz had ever seen. Her mouth was open in wonder and yet she was still smiling as she watched the colors explode across the sky – golds, silvers, greens and glorious reds. A purple thrown in every now and then. Max stood behind her, his arms around her chest and his chin resting on the top of her head. They fit so well together – like hand in glove. Every now and then she’d feel his body move as he laughed; the sound of the explosions was too loud for Liz to hear him and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could still imagine his wide grin.

As she watched the rockets lighting up the July sky, her smile slowly drifted away. This one simple thing – some fireworks and a free concert – had started the healing process between her and Max. Liz felt a sudden surge of patriotism and struggled until she realized its source.

Even though Max was not of this earth, he was still of this nation. She’d seen him staring at the television in utter disbelief during the September 11th tragedy, had seen the tears glistening in his dark eyes, had seen him – a self-proclaimed atheist - light a candle in memoriam every night for a week. This was a man who had in a previous life seen many wars, many acts of violence and had fallen prey to one in the end. But it had cut him to the core in this life to see the country he was a part of, where he had lived his entire life, being attacked and threatened.

Liz realized that even though they were different in so many ways, that one thing made them the same. As corny as it sounded, she and Max were both Americans.

Reaching up, she put a hand on the arm he held across her chest. Max released her and she turned around in her tightly allocated standing space and looked up into his handsome face, turning her back on the display in the night sky. In the dark, his skin shown blue, then red, then green, then a combination of colors as the shells exploded above them. He was looking at her cautiously, uncertain. But she reached up, put her arms around his shoulders and pulled his body to hers.

Max was momentarily startled by her sudden need for affection, but quickly brought his arms up around her slim body. He held her as tightly as he could, buried his face in her hair.

Standing there felt so right, so perfect that Max thought just maybe there was hope for them. Just maybe.






Part Four



On the way home, Max and Liz found themselves in a park in the very wee hours of the morning. It had taken hours to get out of the Esplanade and only as they sat in the traffic jam did they realize they should have used some form of public transit. Time had passed slowly as they inched closer to the exit and eventually Liz decided to pass the time by teasing her boyfriend – touching him, planting kisses against his ear. Max had looked desperately at the many cars surrounding them and hoped that he could get out of the jam before he had to do something to embarrass himself. When they finally hit the freeway and they were clear of intrusive lights and fellow passengers only a few feet away, Liz had been all over him, to the point where he’d needed to find the nearest safe place to pull over.

So there they were in the very early hours, in the back of Max’s Chevelle. The car had barely come to a stop when they both moved for the back, clothing hastily cast aside. Liz sat astride him, her breath heavy, her body moving with his. Her hair clip failed and her hair tumbled across her face. Max reached up and pulled it away – he needed to see her. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her bottom lip as she savored the sensations running though her body.

“Look at me, Liz,” Max whispered, his voice a passionate breath. He needed to see her eyes.

She opened them and they were instantly connected. Max gasped and smiled in absolute ecstasy as he felt Liz’s presence within him, washing over him like a warm tidal wave. She returned his smile, her skin sweaty in the humid night air. They stayed like that, eye to eye, until the ultimate climax came, then she threw her head back and cried his name so loudly that a dog somewhere in the distance began to bark. Max, as usual, was silent in his release.

Collapsing against Max’s sweat-drenched body, Liz struggled to regain her breath. Beneath her, she could feel the rapid expanding and releasing of his chest and knew that he was in pretty much the same state as she. Her heart thundered in her ears and she could feel his beating just as forcefully against hers. Every ounce of her felt drained, exhausted. And it was a good feeling because it had been a very long time since she and Max had been together so perfectly.

“I love you,” Max whispered against her ear, his voice strained, his breath hot. “I’ll always love you.”

She nodded her agreement, still unable to speak. Pushing herself upright, she looked into his face and was surprised to see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Rarely – aside from their first time – had making love brought Max to tears. Liz touched his face, wiped the wetness from his eyes with her thumbs. Then she kissed him softly on the lips.

They were still joined and Liz suddenly felt him harden within her. Her eyes popped open and she looked at him incredulously.

He shrugged and gave an embarrassed laugh. “I said I loved you. Now you know how much.”

When they finally returned home near four o’clock in the morning, they were surprised to find Kyle standing outside the apartment fumbling with his keys. He looked up, appeared guilty and gave a little laugh.

“Are you just getting home?” Liz asked, her voice hushed in the hallway.

“Um, yep.” He smiled too wide and she knew he was trying to hide something.

She looked closely, noticed a smudge on his cheek. “Kyle, is that lipstick?”

His blue eyes widened and his wiped his cheek quickly. “Um, nope. Don’t think so. Heh heh.”

Kyle couldn’t move quickly enough as he pushed open the door and flopped on the couch. “Well, good night.”

Max and Liz stood hand-in-hand in the doorway, staring curiously at their skittish friend.


Noon. The Colonial Inn.

Michael rolled to his side and watched Maria pull on her panties. He’d never get sick of watching her, of meeting her here mid-day and making love to her. He was certain the desk clerk assumed one or both of them were married and they were meeting here on the sly.

“Do you have to go back so soon?” he asked.

She looked at him and smiled, pulled her dress over her head. “Only if you want to pay the gas bill this month, Mr. Guerin.”

He reached his hand toward her and pulled her back onto the bed. Kissing her, his hand moved to the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled it back down. She stifled a laugh against his lips and pushed away from him.

“They’re going to fire me,” she giggled as she pulled the zipper back up.

He shrugged, his fingers toying with her hair. “Let them.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“It’s only a job. There are other jobs out there.” He looked away from her gaze, put his hand on her thigh. “There are some things that just aren’t important in the long run,” he said quietly. “This, being with someone you love, is important.”

Maria watched him silently and wondered if he was about to reveal some of his “lost time” to her, from when he was dead.

“And I do love you, Maria,” he said, looking back into her eyes.

She smiled at him, knowing he was sincere. “I know you do, Michael. And I love you, too. With all my heart.”

He cracked a small smile and took her hand in his. “Then let’s make it official.”

This was a record – he’d stunned her into silence twice within one afternoon.

“Official?” she finally managed to croak. “Michael, are you asking me to-“

“Marry me. Yes.”

Her heart was suddenly thudding very loudly in her ears and she looked away from him, not sure what to say.

“Yes or no,” he said. “That’s all you have to say. I don’t need an explanation either way.” He shrugged again, caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “But I’d like to be with you. Forever.”

“Yes,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. She leaned over and kissed him hard on the lips. “Yes, of course.”

Michael wrapped his strong arms around her and held her close to his body. There were unexpected sensations running through his body – something bordering on joy. Eventually Maria pulled away and walked to a dingy mirror to fix her make up. She sniffed, wiped the smudges from beneath her eyes.

“You’re a surprise to me, Guerin,” she laughed as she reapplied her lipstick. “I never know what to expect from you.” Stuffing her lipstick back in her purse, she turned to look at him lying on the bed, a sheet covering him from the waist down, and thought that he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “Can you do me a favor?”

He smiled. “Anything.”

Maria looked at her hands, then sat gently on the edge of the bed. “Make up with Max and Isabel.”

His smile faded and he looked away from her, stared blankly at the mute television.

“We live in close quarters, Michael. We can’t be at one another’s throats.”

There was a long silence, then he nodded and looked at her again. “You’re right. I’ll see what I can do.” He pulled her into his arms again and began kissing her with a vengeance. Soon the zipper dropped once again and Maria was definitely returning late from her lunch break.


Isabel dragged her feet as she walked behind Liz and Maria. Isabel never had trouble picking up her shoes – but this was a defensive maneuver because she didn’t want to go wherever it was her friends were taking her. It had been Maria’s idea, a let’s-cheer-up-Isabel girl’s night out. Isabel didn’t want to be cheered up. She wanted to be home, huddled in her bed, avoiding Michael Guerin.

“I heard this place is like really, really great,” Maria was bubbling as they walked the sidewalks of Boston. She seemed chipper and Isabel knew she’d gotten some very recently.

“Where did you hear about it?” Liz questioned, intrigued.

“Some woman at work,” Maria said as they turned a corner. “Sounds like a great time. Don’t you think, Isabel?” Maria cast a look over her shoulder at their alien counterpart.

Isabel smiled. Yep. Great time.

They stopped before the club and looked at the gaudy marquee – huge green letters and a giant yellow piece of fruit.

“Gone Bananas?” Isabel asked, barely keeping the disbelief from her voice.

Maria giggled. “Yep. Let’s go in.”

No problem being carded at the door – all of the girls had aged as miraculously as Kyle Valenti had. The cover charge was ten dollars apiece and Isabel felt her Ice Princess attitude kicking in. Ten dollars? What kind of place was this?

When they got inside and picked a table, Isabel assumed it was a comedy club from the arrangement of tables and the small stage. That would explain the high cover. A little bit of her started to feel lighter, happier. Maybe there would be some hysterical stand up tonight and she could forget her worries for awhile.

“I need a drink,” Maria said, then motioned for a waiter.

The man came over – a very good-looking man wearing a pair of jean cut-offs and a wife-beater. “My lady?” he said, making direct eye contact with Maria.

Isabel rolled her eyes. The guy was practically shouting “Come Fuck Me!”

“Whiskey sour,” Maria said, then looked at Liz and Isabel.

“Same,” Liz said, although she’d never had one.

“Soda,” Isabel answered, her voice flat, no-nonsense.

“Wonderful,” the waiter said. “I’ll be right back with that. My name is Ken in case you need anything else.”

As he moved away, Maria squealed. “He was hot!”

“He was gay,” Isabel said, frowning.

Liz snorted. “Isabel, not all guys in places like this are gay.”

The blond alien looked at her in confusion. “Places like this?”

Liz’s response was cut off by suddenly loud music and a voice telling them all to get their bills together for the best looking men in Boston. Isabel looked up in horror as scantily-clad men littered the stage, gyrating suggestively. Her cheeks started to burn and she covered her eyes with her hand.

“Come on, Isabel,” Maria shouted over the music, clapping her hands. “You need to see some of these guys!”

A strip club. This was Maria’s idea of fun.

“Look at him!” Liz shouted.

“Oh, God!” was Maria’s response.

Isabel remained behind her hand, banking on the “if I can’t see them, they can’t see me” theory.

“Look at the ass on that one!” Liz cried.

Isabel liked butts, so she slowly dropped her hand. Her friends were ogling a man dancing on the table next to them. His back was to them and he did indeed have a nice ass – and he certainly knew how to move his hips.

“He’s kinda short,” Maria shouted.

“Who cares?” Liz replied. “Look at the butt!”

Isabel cocked her head. “He looks kind of familiar,” she said. “He almost looks like-“

The man whirled around to face them and all three girls simultaneous finished Isabel’s sentence.

“Kyle!”


Michael stood apprehensively at Max’s bedroom door. With the girls out and Kyle wherever he went at night, it was the perfect opportunity to clear some of the air. Max was on his bed, calculating bills. Did he never stop? Michael shook his head and wiped the annoyed look off his face before he knocked lightly. Max looked up, a pencil between his lips.

“Can I come in?” Michael asked.

Max nodded, though he seemed uncertain.

Michael walked in and hovered until Max motioned with the pencil for him to sit. “Look, I want to try to smooth things over.”

Max watched him silently.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Maxwell. And I don’t want to upset Isabel.”

“But you have,” Max corrected.

“I know,” Michael answered, keeping his temper in check. “And life is too short to be this way. So, I will stop working with Iz for the time being.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But eventually she’s going to have to learn to keep people out of her head.”

Max nodded his agreement.

Michael looked to the floor. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I kind of realized that you don’t know what it’s like for me.”

Max’s eyes were alert, but he remained silent.

“Things are different now, Max. Since I’ve been back.”

Max cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I have all of this energy inside of me.” Michael touched his chest. “I can feel it most times. I feel more alive than I’ve ever been.”

Max was mute again and Michael sighed.

“Maybe I need to show you,” he offered and extended his hand.

Max looked at it and didn’t move.

“Give me your hand, Max. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cautious, Max reached across the distance that separated them and took Michael’s hand. In an instant, they were connected and Max involuntarily drew in a gasp. He could feel Michael’s life force within his own and something was definitely out of the ordinary. Michael’s heart was beating at nearly twice the normal rate and soon Max found his increasing to match it. The sudden sensation panicked him, making him want break the connection immediately. But once he’d reached the same level as Michael, he felt a wave wash over him, something similar to a massive adrenaline rush and he gasped this time out of the euphoric sensation it created within his body. Every one of his senses felt heightened – he could hear the clock on the stove ticking though it was many yards away; he could taste the saltiness of his own saliva, feel ever fiber in the fabric of his clothing, every imperfection in Michael’s skin. He felt invincible, super human, powerful and he quickly met Michael’s gaze.

Michael released their hands and Max put his to his chest, felt his heart tripping beneath his palm.

“See?” Michael asked.

“My God,” Max gasped. “Is it like that for you all of the time?”

Michael shook his head. “Only when I use my powers.”

Beneath his hand, Max felt his heart slowing and his super-senses dissipating and an overwhelming feeling of disappointment washed over him.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know,” Michael said as he rose and moved for the door.

Max watched him go, his eyes round, his breathing returning to normal and felt an ache deep within. It was an ache not unlike a heroin withdrawal.

Max wanted more.






Part Five



Kyle’s immediate thought was to cover himself and his hands first touched his chest, then between his legs. He was barely aware of the screaming women waving bills at the table below him. His gaze was riveted on the next table.

Liz had buried her head in her arm on top of the table – and not because she was embarrassed. Kyle could see her shoulders heaving as she laughed hysterically. Maria had produced money from somewhere and was calling him to her. And Isabel simply stared in disbelief.

Looking up, Kyle caught his boss’s eye behind the bar and immediately began dancing again. Regardless of who was in the room, he needed to stay in line, keep moving, drag in the tips. This was a lucrative job and Kyle couldn’t afford to lose it.

Eventually he would have to work the table of familiar females and figured he might as well get it over with. Drawing in a deep breath and pasting on a smile, he made one wild leap and jumped onto the girls’ table, the women at the last table shouting their delight at his acrobatics.

Maria howled and held up her a bill, which was folded like an accordion. Fighting back embarrassment, Kyle pushed his pelvis toward her and let her slip the bill into his thong.

“I always wanted to get into your pants!” Maria shouted over the music and Kyle was happy the lighting was dark enough that she couldn’t see him blush.

Liz’s hands were covering her face as she laughed, too lost to even tip him.

He stopped before Isabel and immediately hoped she wasn’t planning on tipping him. Having Isabel’s hands anywhere near his crotch was going to force a bodily reaction that he was not going to be able to hide in the skimpy thong. Fortunately, Isabel was still staring at him in disbelief and hadn’t moved for her wallet. He resorted to winking at her and moving to the next table, relieved.

When the night finally ended, Kyle walked home from the club, stared at his shoes. Of all of the places for the girls to go, they’d chosen the one place he was trying to keep secret. There were a billion bars in Boston – and the girls weren’t even old enough to go to any of them! He kicked a stone in his path – damn those aliens and their powers! What had given him a job had also caused him a world of embarrassment.

Climbing the five flights of stairs to their apartment, Kyle sighed and shook his head. Tomorrow when they all got out of bed, he would have to deal with them. The amount of ribbing he’d have to endure from Max and Michael was going to be unbearable.

As he pushed open the door, he saw that he’d been wrong about dealing with it in the morning. All three girls sat on the couch looking back at him. There was an awkward silence, then Maria said, “So, do you do lap dances, too?”

Liz fell back into hysteria and Isabel snickered. Kyle’s shoulders sagged and he looked at the floor.

“I’m begging you,” he began. “Don’t tell the guys about this.”

“Isabel didn’t understand the ‘Bananas’ part of the club name,” Maria said, holding back her laughter and ignoring Kyle’s plea. “I guess you explained it to her, huh?”

Kyle shook his head, held it with one hand.

“Or should I say you showed her?”

Liz grabbed a nearby throw pillow and stuffed her face in it, her slim body convulsing.

He sighed and tried to regard them seriously. “Okay, what is it going to take?”

“Take?” Maria questioned, her eyebrows knitted together.

“How much do I have to pay the three of you to keep the secret? You know how Max and Michael will run with this. Especially Michael. Take some pity on me – let me buy you off.”

Liz and Maria looked at each other, thinking.

“You take my turn with the dishes for a month,” Maria said.

“A month!” Kyle bellowed. “That’s a hell of a long time to-“

“Or I could just go tell Michael now.”

Kyle’s shoulders sagged. “Okay.” He sighed. “Liz?”

“My turn with the garbage for a month,” she announced. “But if you forget, then you have to do it for another month.”

He started to open his mouth to protest, but saw the look in Liz’s eyes and agreed. “Isabel?”

Isabel shook her head. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “I won’t tell.”

Kyle cocked his head. “No way, sister. I’m not getting sucked into that one. You have to let me pay you off so there isn’t a threat of you popping out with it some day.”

She shook her head again. “I won’t.”

“Nope.”

She looked away momentarily, then back to him. “Dinner and a movie,” she answered, smiling. “With you.”


In the morning, Liz emerged from the bedroom to find Max stirring a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, his back to her. Scratching her head, she smiled and slid her arms around his waist. He jumped, startled, and slopped some of the coffee on the counter.

“You’re jumpy today,” Liz commented, laughing lightly. “Maybe you don’t need the caffeine this morning.”

He smiled at her, hoped she didn’t see his hands shaking. Since he’d connected with Michael, he’d had a nervous energy coursing through his body that he’d been nearly unable to control.

“You just startled me,” he said softly so he wouldn’t wake Kyle sleeping on the couch. Leaning in, he gave her a tender kiss. “Have a fun time last night?”

Liz giggled. “Yeah, you wouldn’t believe who we ran into.” Her eyes widened as she realized she’d almost given up Kyle’s secret only hours after he’d asked them to keep it.

“Who?” Max asked, pouring more sugar into his cup.

“Just a woman I work with,” she covered. “You wouldn’t know her.”

He looked at her in confusion, then gave a mental shrug and pulled her close in a tight embrace. He’d never get sick of this – holding the love of his life early in the morning.

Liz snuggled into him and felt herself becoming sleepy again. Max had such a relaxing quality about him. Usually.

“Are your arms shaking?” she asked curiously against his chest.

Max laughed lightly. “Yeah. I did a few too many reps with the weights yesterday.”

She looked up into his face and gave him a grin. “Don’t do anything to ruin those perfect muscles, okay?”

He smiled at her, kissed her, and tucked her head back under his chin. With his face blocked from her, he frowned and hoped she wouldn’t notice it wasn’t just his arms that were shaking.


Michael was sitting in his usual spot on the decrepit balcony, eyes closed, in a deep state of meditation. He’d found a book on Buddhism in the back of Kyle’s Mustang when they’d been driving from New Mexico in search of the others. Somewhat intrigued, Michael had started reading it when it was Kyle’s turn to drive and had taught himself how to meditate.

These days, meditation was the only thing keeping Michael sane. Out here on the balcony, the space he’d claimed as his own and no one else really wanted, he could put himself into a deep trance and finally be at rest. Other times, the voices clogging his brain were too great, too much for him to take in and he often marveled at how he managed to keep his composure. Only meditation helped.

Meditation and Maria.

Michael was so in love with Maria that when he was with her, she was all he could focus on. He certainly didn’t need to meet her every other day at the Colonial Inn in order to satisfy a physical need. That part was good, too, but being with her meant getting some mental relief as well. He’d meant it when he’d told her that she was more important than anything else in the world. She was even more important than the voices in his head.

But he’d lied to Max when he said he’d left Isabel’s head. He couldn’t leave her head. He couldn’t leave anyone’s head. Their thoughts were with Michael regardless if he wanted them or not. Michael never really planted himself inside of Isabel - he could hear her without trying.

It was just a new power, he’d told himself. Something he would have to get used to. But he hadn’t. He knew so many things he didn’t want to know.

He knew Kyle was moonlighting as a stripper.

He knew Isabel was terrified of him and he felt like a complete asshole for making her that way.

He knew that Max never stopped worrying.

He knew that even though things seemed better between Max and Liz, Liz was only one lost sock away from bailing.

And he knew that Maria loved him, which was all that really mattered.

A shadow crossed before Michael’s closed eyelids and he heaved a mental sigh. Without opening his eyes, he said, “What is it, Maxwell?” Even though he already knew what it was.

“I want to ask you about, um, if you thought, um,” Max mumbled.

Michael looked at him, held out his hand invitingly. “You want more.”


Maria sipped from her bottle of Dasani and placed it down on the desk. Before her was a stack of correspondence that she needed to type. Sighing, bored, she propped the stack up and started typing on the computer. Dear Mr. So-And-So, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. She’d typed so many letters that she could input them without really reading the words and thinking about what she was doing.

As her hands moved over the keyboard, her thoughts drifted to Michael and she smiled. She had no ring on her finger and it didn’t really matter. Having him say the words was all that she needed. He loved her. He truly did.

She hadn’t told any of the others. She would eventually, but for now it was hers to savor. And she did, every minute of every day. Her mind obsessively ran back to her boyfriend, remembering every detail of his face, of his scent. Maria lived for those afternoons at the Colonial Inn, even if they would eventually cost her this job. It didn’t matter. Like Michael said – there were many jobs out there she could have in place of this one.

Flipping the page of the document she was typing, she thought about what her wedding would be like. Liz had to be her maid of honor, without question. Maria would ask Isabel to be a bridesmaid, of course. Max would be paired with Liz and maybe Kyle with Iz. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Maria had caught the tall blond’s reaction to watching Kyle gyrate on their tabletop. It was possible the love bug had bitten Isabel and was just waiting for her to realize it.

But Maria didn’t have time to think about Isabel. All she wanted to think about was Michael.

Her letter done, Maria looked up to her computer screen – and immediately recoiled in horror, the Dasani bottle crashing to the floor and spilling its contents. Instead of the letter she thought she’d been creating, the screen was filled will the same four words over and over.

Michael is not Michael.






Part Six



The energy which Michael had infused in Max was not dissipating this time. He felt jumpy, on edge, and found every menial task he could to occupy his time. The kitchen was spotless, the bathroom likewise. He’d even used an old toothbrush to scrub around the faucets. He washed the floors by hand, cleaned out the refrigerator and wiped down the cupboards. And still the excitement was rushing through his veins. There seemed to be nothing he could do to calm himself down.

Not that he minded. He felt so alive, so powerful he could do anything. The only thing he dreaded was coming back down.


“Americorp, how may I direct your call?” Isabel said into her headset.

“I saw Max eating a banana,” came the reply.

Isabel’s full lips curved into a smile as she recognized Kyle’s voice. “Max likes fruit, Kyle.”

“I think he was eating it suggestively. I think he knows.”

She stifled her laugh. “And I think you’re paranoid.”

There was a nervous laugh on the other end of the line. “I’m not paranoid. I have good reason to worry about this. If he and Guerin get a hold of this, they’re going to make my life hell.”

She sighed. “I told you I wouldn’t tell.” She shrugged even though he couldn’t see her. “Besides, they might be envious. Look at all of the money you’re dragging in. And you get to meet all kinds of chicks.”

“Yeah, but what girl wants to go out with you when she’s already seen what you’ve got?” Isabel could imagine Kyle’s brow furrowed questioningly.

“Oh, Kyle, haven’t you figured out yet that women can be just as shallow as men?”

“Huh?” He sounded astonished. “Really?”

“Yep. They can love you for your body only.”

There was a pause and Isabel stifled her laugh as she imagined Kyle pondering the possibilities.

“Whatever,” he said finally. “That’s not why I called.”

“Oh. You weren’t calling to let me know about the banana crisis?”

“No. I just thought you should know that Max might be in the know. I called because I wanted to ask what movie you want to go to.”

Isabel felt a little flutter in her stomach at the thought of going out with Kyle, even if it was on a pay-off date. She placed a hand on her stomach, wondered where the nervousness was coming from. “Anything you want to see,” she responded.

“Well, it’s your payment, so you should pick.”

“No, we should pick together. I’m not dragging you to a movie and making you pay for something you’re not going to enjoy.”

She thought she heard Kyle’s voice soften. “Okay. We can do that. I have to work tonight, but I’m off tomorrow.”

Isabel smiled, a pretty smile she hadn’t shown in a long time. “Me, too.”

“We’ll talk about it then,” he said. “Bye, Isabel.”

“Bye, Kyle.” She liked hearing him speak her name and his call had lifted her spirits. As she continued directing more phone calls, she did so with the smile still on her lips.


After Maria had regained her composure – she’d excused herself to the ladies room then threw up repeatedly – she shakily left the office building she worked in and made her way home. When she reached the apartment, she looked for Michael, but realized he was working the twilight shift at the tolls. Max was banging around in his bedroom doing something and she found Kyle in the bathroom, shaving with the door open.

“I need your car,” she said, hoping her voice was steady.

He looked at her, a Santa beard of shaving cream on his cheeks and chin. “You do?”

She nodded. “I need to do a few things. It would be faster if I had the car.”

He shrugged – he didn’t need it since he walked to work. “Okay. The keys are on Isabel’s dresser. Just take them.”

Maria smiled at him, hoped it looked sincere, then nabbed the keys to the Mustang and ran down the steps. Sick with worry, her stomach aching, she made her way to I-95. What she was doing was foolish – there was no way to tell which booth Michael was working, north or south bound. And there were many lanes of booths – how many times would she have to circle south and north before she found the right one? Yes, it was stupid, but she needed to see him.

She thought back to what she had typed and her stomach lurched again. Had she really typed those words? Had Alex sat down once and really typed “Leanna is not Leanna” repeatedly? Did he realize he was doing it? Or had he not done it at all? Were there alien forces out there who had guided his hands first, and now hers?

Maria’s eyes stung with tears as she realized just how terrified she was. That was why she needed to see Michael, see his handsome face to reassure her he was okay. If he wasn’t himself, she’d have seen it. Wouldn’t she?

At the first row of tolls, Maria quickly glanced right and left and saw the back of Michael’s head a few booths down – he was working the opposite direction, she would have to turn around. She paid her toll, exited and got right back on. Her heart was suddenly beating quickly in her chest and she didn’t like the feeling – she didn’t like being afraid of Michael.

As she approached the booths again, she quickly looked for the one that contained her boyfriend and pulled into his lane.

Michael was dolling out change to passing motorists when his eyes settled on an incredibly beautiful blond in a hot red car. A little part of him felt guilty for checking out the woman until he realized it was his beautiful blond in a friend’s hot red car. He smiled widely and leaned out of his booth.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he laughed.

Maria put on a wide smile, looked deep into his eyes. She saw everything familiar in those dark eyes – a wounded soul, a loving heart. There was no way this person wasn’t Michael. No way. “I missed you,” she said.

“Enough to get onto a toll road?”

She shrugged. “What’s a few bucks between lovers?”

He laughed, smiling warmly at her.

“Unless you aren’t going to charge me,” she said playfully, raising her eyebrows.

“I guess I really don’t have to,” he admitted. “They might fire me, though.”

“There are other jobs,” she told him, restating his words from earlier.

He was about to retort when the car behind Maria laid on the horn. She was backing up traffic.

“I should go,” she said, looking in the rearview mirror.

Michael waved a hand. “Piss on them. They have nowhere to be.” He knew that wasn’t true – the person in the third car back was late for a dentist appointment.

“No, I should go.”

“This one’s on the house,” he said, thumping the door with his hand. “See you tonight.”

Maria pulled through the toll lane and blew out a breath. She was crazy. That person she had just talked to was normal, the Michael she had always known, just a little more considerate. Whatever or whoever made her type those words earlier was just messing with her head. For now, she would try to forget that it happened.


Liz walked up the steps to the apartment and grimaced every time she put her feet down. She’d worked the rare day shift and her feet were killing her. All she wanted to do was take a hot bath to sooth her aching muscles, but she knew that getting that much private time in the bath was unlikely.

When she pushed open the apartment door, she found Max waiting on the other side, like a puppy happy to see its master, and nearly screamed from being startled.

“Hi,” he said, his voice louder, his speech quicker than normal.

“Hi,” she said, her tone amused. “Aren’t you chipper?”

He nodded eagerly. “I couldn’t wait for you to get home.” He hurriedly grabbed her purse and hung it on the coat rack, then took her hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

Liz’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Max motioned toward the bedroom with a little tip of his head. “Isabel is out shopping or something, Kyle and Michael are at work, and Maria borrowed Kyle’s car and went somewhere.” His words were coming out quickly, like a machine gun. “We’ve finally got the apartment all to ourselves. Let’s take advantage of it.”

Liz wanted to laugh at his eagerness – it was very uncharacteristic for reserved, quiet Max. But she was tired, her body hurt. “That’s very sweet, Max, but –“

Her words were cut off as Max grabbed her from behind the neck and crushed his lips against hers. She started to choke a protest, but the things he was doing with his lips and tongue were new, different, interesting and she gave in to him. Suddenly her whole world seemed to focus on him, on his smell, the movements of his body. Maybe she wasn’t too tired after all.

Liz broke their kiss when her hand strayed across his chest. She looked at the back of her hand, eyebrows knitted together. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Max’s expression of confusion matched hers. “Great. Why?” His voice was breathy from their kiss.

“Your heart…” her voice trailed off as she felt the rapid beat beneath her palm. “Can’t you feel that?”

He, too, looked at her hand. “Feel what?”

She met his gaze, astonished. “Your heart is about to pound out of your chest, Max. Don’t tell me you can’t feel that!”

He shrugged, shook his head.

Disbelieving, she grabbed his hand up in hers and laid it on his chest. “Do you feel it now?”

He paused, then shrugged again. “Yeah, it’s a little fast, but I think it’s just because I’m near you.” He gave her a devilish grin and reversed their position, placing her hand over her heart. “What do we have here?” he teased. “Feels like yours is beating a little fast as well.”

Liz didn’t want him to dismiss it so easily. “No, Max, yours was-“

“Oh, come on,” he laughed as he swept her into her arms and raced for their bedroom. “Let’s make love and forget all this nonsense.”

Liz shrieked as they tore down the hallway and Max tossed her onto the bed. Almost immediately, he dropped his jeans to the floor and ripped open her waitress uniform. Liz watched him in absolute wonder as he took her without foreplay, the sensation unexpectedly breathtaking. She watched his face as he pounded into her and was surprised to see his eyes closed; she’d never seen Max close his eyes while they made love – he was always the one who wanted to maintain eye contact, establish the connection.

Someone had abducted Max while she was at work, she decided. He’d been taken away and replaced with his hyper, aggressive Max clone. Not that he was hurting her – it was just out of the ordinary for him to be so dominating. Liz was used to gentle caresses and a slow, easy union. Not this time. There would be nothing gentle, easy or slow about this one.

So intent was she on watching his face that she was totally taken off-guard when Max cried out in release. She drew in a startled, frightened breath – Max had never cried out. Never. He collapsed on top of her, sweaty, and Liz wondered what the hell had just happened.

Later, Liz stared at Max in the darkness. He was sleeping peacefully, exhausted from their earlier lovemaking. Biting her lip, she cautiously reached out a hand to touch his chest. He mumbled something incoherent, rolled onto his back and pulled her tight against him. Relieved he hadn’t awakened, Liz laid her head against his chest, checking for anything out of the ordinary. Under her ear, his heart beat was deep, steady, the slow rhythm of slumber.

I’m being silly, she told herself as she looked into his face. It was a hot day, he was aroused. There’s nothing wrong with him. Pushing her fears aside, Liz forced herself to go back to sleep.

In the early hours of the morning, Max sat huddled against the bathroom door, bathed in sweat and shaking uncontrollably.






Part Seven



So tell me what I see
when I look in your eyes
Is that you baby
or just a brilliant disguise

Michael sat on his balcony, his hands clamped over his ears. For some foolish reason, he though that action would keep the voices away. It hadn’t worked in the two months prior to that day, but at this point he was willing to try anything.

They wouldn’t stop. Those voices roaming around in his head were becoming aggressive, telling him to do bad things. Most of the time he could weed out the good ones from the bad ones – Isabel wondering what to wear, Kyle panicking because Max picked a banana instead of an orange from the fruit bowl – but lately the bad ones were getting louder, more demanding.

They wanted him to hurt Max. Michael knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew that by connecting with Max every day, he was slowly destroying pieces of this friend’s mind and body. For all of their alien DNA, they were still very human and Max’s body wouldn’t take much more of the physical pounding Michael was dishing his way. On top of it, the rush had become an addiction for Max, driving him to the brink of insanity if he didn’t get his ‘fix’ for the day. Michael knew he was hurting Max but if he didn’t, the voices in his head would hurt him instead.

Once upon a time Michael believed that he’d give his life for Max. But now, with the cold hard reality staring him straight in the face, he was finding it unbelievably easy to hurt Max to gain his own comfort. And he hated himself for it.

To compound things, Maria was now suspicious. Michael had no idea what events had occurred to send her to the tolls looking for him, but he knew it had been something devastating. Even if he didn’t have the gift of ESP, he could still feel the waves of fear billowing off from her. She was terrified, even if she did smile at him and make up some excuse for her presence. She was starting to think something was wrong.

If she left, Michael knew he’d go over the edge and there would be no turning back. He could almost see his future without her – and it was very cold and very dark. It was death.

And that’s why he couldn’t let her leave. He needed to do something to reassure her, to make her comfortable with him again, to make her stay. Because if she didn’t, Michael was pretty sure things were going to end badly. For all of them.


Silence was rare when Liz Parker and Maria Deluca were in one another’s company. But today, seated at a small café during lunch, neither girl was speaking. Liz picked at her salad, shoving the offending tomatoes to one side with her fork, while Maria forced herself to concentrate on her salad as if it held the meaning of life. They’d exchanged pleasantries when they’d first sat down, but then a silence had fallen over them.

“Can I ask you something?” Liz finally asked, staring into her plate.

Maria jumped from the sudden sound of her friend’s voice and swallowed her mouthful of salad. “Of course, Lizzie. You know you can ask me anything.”

Liz drew in a breath, released a sigh. “Do you think Max is acting strange?”

Maria snorted. “Of course, Liz. I’ve always thought Max was strange.” She looked up and caught her friend giving her ‘the look’ and recanted. “I mean, he’s an alien, right? How could he not be a little strange?”

Liz shook her head, looked back into her plate. She really needed to talk about this and Maria’s flippant attitude was not helping.

Across the table, Maria watched her silently. So Liz thought Max was acting strange. Maria thought Michael wasn’t, but something had made her type those words the other day. Strangeness all around. Reaching across the table, she touched Liz’s hand.

“Tell me why you think he’s acting weird,” she prompted.

Liz gave a little shrugged. “He’s acting nervous.”

Maria laughed. “What’s new? Max had always been nervous, Liz.”

She shook her head. “Not like that, Maria. He’s like…hyper.”

Okay, that was odd. “Hyper? Max the Subdued?”

Liz nodded. “And it’s his actions. There’s something weird going on with his body, too.”

Maria’s eyes were round. What was wrong with his body? Alien herpes? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know this much about Max. “Go on.”

Liz sighed in frustration and put her fork down, crossed her arms over her chest. “The other morning I startled him in the kitchen. When he hugged me, I could feel his arms shaking.”

“So, you startled him.” Maria shrugged. “Probably just a big adrenaline rush.”

The petite brunette shook her head. “No, he lied to me.”

“He lied to you?” Maria’s eyes were round.

Liz nodded. “He told me he’d been lifting weights and it was just muscle spasms. Maria, I found his weights in the bottom of the closet when I was putting away laundry – there was an inch of dust on them. He hasn’t used them.”

Maria didn’t respond. She was feeling that nervous panic again. Something was so wrong.

“And the other night when I came home he was all over me,” Liz continued, looking away as though she’d been violated.

“Max loves you,” Maria said, though come of the conviction was gone from her words.

“Yes, he does, but he was acting very un-Max-like.” Liz frowned. “While we were kissing I touched his chest and it was like his heart was racing.”

Maria forced herself to smile. “That’s a natural reaction.”

“It wasn’t like that. It was like he’d just run a mile. Or something had scared the crap out of him. It was that kind of racing. When I asked him about it, he said he couldn’t feel it.”

“Wow. Weird.”

“I know. Then we went to the bedroom, and…” Liz’s voice trailed off and she found it hard to look at her friend. “And it was like he was someone else.”

“How do you mean?”

Liz didn’t want to give up details of what it was like to be intimate with Max. “He did some things Max wouldn’t do.”

“Liz,” Maria said, drawing her friend’s gaze back to hers. “Did he hurt you?”

Liz shook her head. “No. It was just different.”

Maria felt the salad in her stomach start to turn over. She’d been hoping that the weirdness was all in her head, that maybe she was just stressed from the events of the past few months and wasn’t handling it well. But from what Liz was saying, the weirdness wasn’t isolated to her and Michael.

After lunch, Maria made her way to the Colonial Inn. She and Michael were both off that day, but they still enjoyed the isolation the motel room gave them. It was hard to make love in the middle of the day with the constant traffic in their apartment.

She found Michael sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, already nude and she had to smile. He smiled back at her and reached out a hand. Climbing onto the bed, she slid under his arm and laid her head against his chest. Liz’s words came back to her and she listened to Michael’s heart. It seemed normal to her.

“How are you today?” he asked into her hair.

“Perfect,” she answered, smiling against his chest. And she did feel perfect, now that she was with him.

“How was lunch with Liz?”

She tipped her head to look at his face. “Okay. I think something’s up with her and Max, though.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Maria looked away, toward the dingy, worn curtains.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“She thinks Max is acting strange,” she explained, then met his gaze again. “Do you think so?”

Michael hoped she didn’t see him swallow. “No, I think Kyle is the one who’s acting strange.”

Maria laughed.

“You know what he’s up to, don’t you?” he teased.

She shook her head, suppressing her giggle with a hand over her mouth. “What would give you that idea?”

“Just a hunch,” he said, shrugging, then rolled over and tucked Maria’s thin body beneath his. “Let’s get married.”

“I already told you I would.”

“No. Now. Today.”

Maria’s eyes grew round. “But…don’t you want a wedding? A ceremony?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, but we don’t have to do that right away. We can wait until we have some cash saved up. I want to be with you now.” He leaned forward and kissed her full lips.

“But we are together, Michael.”

“I want it to be permanent.” He smiled as he brushed her hair out of her face. “You’re going to want your mom to be there, and the sheriff and the Parkers. We can’t go home yet, Maria. It’s too soon. And I don’t want to wait that long.”

She hesitated momentarily, then consented. “Okay. We’ll go to the courthouse today then.” She smiled and reached down between his legs. “But we have to take care of this first.”


When Liz returned home from lunch and running a few errands, she found Max pacing the floor in the living room. She eyed him with worry, held up the video she’d rented on the way home.

“I got A Beautiful Mind,” she said. “I thought we could just kick back and watch it this afternoon.”

Max took her by the arms and kissed her – hard. “You already have a beautiful mind. Let’s go to bed.”

Liz backed away from him. “No, Max. I don’t want to go to bed. I want to watch this movie.” She placed the cassette on top of the TV and moved to the kitchen to get something to drink.

“Okay,” Max said, running his hands through his hair, scratching his face, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and removing them again.

Liz watched him out of the corner of her eye, watched him fidget like a first grader. She pulled some chips and soda from the cupboards and went to sit on the couch, kicking one of Kyle’s socks out of her path.

“Sit,” she said, patting the seat next to her.

Max sat, shifted his weight, picked up the remote, pointed it at the TV, jumped up when he realized the video wasn’t in the VCR. Liz watched him silently as his hands trembled while he tried to put the movie in. She looked away when he turned back around to sit with her.

He gave a nervous laugh and pushed the ‘play’ button on the remote. At any other time, he would have used the dead air time of FBI warnings and previews to cuddle in with his girlfriend, kiss her gently and ask her how her day was. Not this time. He gave an impatient snort and started to fast forward through all of the unnecessary garbage to get to the movie.

“You okay?” Liz asked as she crunched a chip.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Why are you always asking me that?”

She paused, put the bowl of chips down. “I am not always asking you that, Max. Only when something seems wrong. Why are you so jumpy?”

“I’m not jumpy,” he replied, his words coming out in a rush.

“Really?” She scratched her forehead. “Are you taking drugs?”

“What?” Max jumped to his feet and started his manic pacing again. “How can you ask me that?”

Liz remained calm, her hands folded in her lap so she couldn’t see them shaking. “Because you’re acting like you are.” She watched him silently and realized there were small beads of sweat on his upper lip. “And why did you lie to me?”

His head snapped in her direction, his dark eyes wild. “I never lied to you.”

She rose slowly to her feet. “And you just did again. You told me your arms were shaking because you’d been lifting weights. Then why are your weights still packed away in the closet?”

Max was silent and she could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to come up with an excuse. “I never said that.”

Was that the best he had? She walked over to him and put her hand on his chest. Immediately she felt a jolt of fear. She turned round eyes to his. “You need help, Max,” she said, her voice cracking. She glanced at the clock hanging above the TV, counted silently. “One eighty, Max. Your heart is beating one hundred and eighty times a minute. That’s not normal.”

He jerked away from her. “How would you know what’s normal for me?” he spat.

She tried to reach for his arm, but he jerked away. “That’s not normal for anyone, Max. You’re going to have a heart attack or a stroke or something. We need to get you help.”

“Maybe it’s normal for me,” he shouted, his voice rising. Liz recoiled a bit as she saw his anger boiling to the surface. “Maybe it’s normal for an alien and not for a human. How would you know? You’re not one of us, Liz. You’re not one of us!”

All of the fear washed from Liz’s face and was replaced with a much stronger emotion – hurt. Max stopped, his mouth open, his breathing rapid, as his words met his own ears. Liz broke his gaze and looked at the floor. All of those years of keeping his secret, of accepting who and what he was, had just been thrown back at her in the most hurtful way possible. She’d loved him, trusted him, had given him her body, and he’d just made her the outcast.

“Liz,” Max said, reaching for her arm.

It was her turn to jerk away. “Don’t touch me, Max. Don’t ever touch me again.”

“Liz, please-“

Max’s words were cut off as the door flew open and Michael burst inside, carrying Maria in his arms.

“We just got married!” Maria announced. “I’m Mrs. Michael Guerin!”

Liz looked silently at Max one last time, then at Michael and Maria as she brushed past them and out the door.






Part Eight



Liz slowly walked the part of the Boston Walking Tour that had most intrigued her – the portion that ran past the church where Paul Revere had hung the lanterns to warn the American rebels of the coming of the British. Then she went down to the Charles River and walked its banks, past the Esplanade, and tried to avoid her memories of being there with Max; they were memories of being in love, of reconciliation, of hope. She didn’t want those memories in her head because she now realized they would forever be bittersweet.

After that, she took the bus past Fenway Park, that storied ballpark that looked more like a warehouse than a sports facility from the outside. It was the place from which Babe Ruth was once traded to the Yankees by the Red Sox, who cursed themselves forever in the process. It was also the place where once Max Evans caught a foul ball and only held it momentarily before presenting it to his girlfriend as a gift – the ultimate sacrifice for a baseball fan.

She went to the ocean and watched the waves crash on the shore. She tried to memorize all of it – the way it smelled, the way it sounded, how the sun glinted off the water. Deep within, she knew it may be a very long time before she saw the ocean again.

As the sun was starting to set, she rose from her perch and headed back to the apartment. So she could pack.


Max sat on the bed as Liz shoved her belongings into the duffle bag she’d escaped Roswell with. He was trembling, his muscles protesting, but he wasn’t nearly as hyper as he’d been before she’d stormed from the apartment. The bad thing about coming down from the high was that he now knew the severity of what he’d done.

“Liz, please don’t go,” he said, watching her toss clothes into the bag. “I’m sorry I said what I did.”

She ignored him, continued to shove stuff into the bag. Birth control pills she no longer needed but would continue to take just to keep her system regulated.

Max looked down at his hands, folded between his knees. “Don’t leave like this,” he pleaded softly. “Please don’t go away this angry.”

Socks, underwear, a Red Sox T-shirt, also a souvenir from that baseball game.

“I’ll get help,” he offered weakly. “I don’t know who to ask, but I’ll find someone.”

A couple of books, some magazines, a picture of her and Maria at the beach the first time they went there.

“I love you, Liz.” Max’s voice was barely above a whisper and if Liz had turned to look him in the face, she would have seen tears in the corners of his eyes.

But she didn’t turn to look at him, not until she reached the door. She hated herself as soon as she did. That image of Max sitting in profile, defeated, alone, would be burned into her memory forever. In the split second she looked at him, she noticed that his hair had grown longer in the back and was starting to curl at the nape of his neck. She found it attractive and hated herself for that, too.

Without a word, she walked out of the apartment and out of Max’s life.


“So, you’re really going home, huh?” Maria asked as they sat on a bench in the bus terminal.

Liz nodded. “Yeah. It’s a long trip.”

“What are you going to tell the parents?”

“It’s a long trip,” she repeated. “I’ll think of something. When I get back to Roswell, I’ll write you.”

Maria almost laughed. “Write me? No one writes letters anymore, Liz.”

Liz allowed herself a little smile. “Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to call. Too many chances of Max picking up the phone and I really do not want to talk to him.”

Maria let out a sympathetic sigh and wrapped her arm around her best friend’s shoulders. “I know you don’t, Liz. And I wouldn’t either if I were you. What he said to you was inexcusable. You were right – there is something going on with him.”

Liz frowned. “I still love him, Maria.”

“Of course you do.”

“And I’m sorry for not congratulating you and Michael.”

Maria waved her off with a hand. “Not a big deal considering the circumstances, Liz.”

“I know you’ll be happy together. And I wish you all of the best.”

Maria kissed the side of Liz’s head. “I know you do.”

Liz’s bus was called for boarding. As she stood up, she embraced her friend, held on tightly. “Tell Isabel I said goodbye. And Kyle, too.”

“I will,” Maria said, fighting tears.

Liz broke away, kissed her friend’s cheek, then bent to pick up her only bag. She walked to the bus, turned to wave to Maria, then boarded without looking back again.


Max found Michael on the balcony and pointed a shaky, accusing finger in his direction. “This is your fault!”

Michael looked up at him, confused. “It is? How can that be?”

“You did this to me!” Max shouted, holding his trembling fingers in front of his face.

Michael’s voice remained calm. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t want me to. And if you’re trying to accuse me of being the reason Liz left, forget it. I’m not the one who was a dick to her.”

Max grabbed his hair with both hands. “God, what is happening to me, Michael? What have you done to me?”

Michael swallowed hard. The voices in his head would not shut up this time – they knew the time was near. “I think you like what I’ve done to you. Don’t you, Max?”

Max dropped his hands and looked at his friend in defeat.

Michael held out his hand, long fingers extended. Max blinked slowly, in agony, then reached to clasp Michael’s hand, to get the fix to everything.

But Michael jerked his hand away. “Not this time.”

“What?” Max shouted. “What the fuck, Michael?”

“It’s time you got your own.”

Isabel, drawn from her bedroom by the shouts on the balcony, appeared by the sliding glass doors that led to it. The balcony was small, only holding two chairs, so there was no room for all three of them. She remained in the apartment, her expression one of concern. Her brothers had always fought – but not like this.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, looking first at Max, then Michael.

Michael rose from his chair and went to stand by the rickety railing. “I was just telling Max he could have my powers all the time if he wanted them.”

“I could?” Max’s voice held the intrigue he felt.

Isabel felt her stomach lurch. She’s stepped off the crazy train and into this strange alternate universe where she somehow felt Michael was threatening Max’s life.

“I am,” Michael said, looking right at her and she knew immediately they were both in very grave danger.

“Max, don’t listen to him,” she said, tugging on her brother’s arm.

Max remained where he was. “Tell me how,” he said, his eyes fixed on Michael.

Michael gave an evil smile. “How did I get them, Maxwell?” He held his hands out, palm-up. “All you have to do is die.”

Isabel drew in a breath and tugged harder on Max’s arm. “Max, get back in here. Now!”

Michael jumped about a foot in the air and came down on the rotted floor of the balcony with all of his weight. There was a snapping and creaking of wood and Max had to steady himself against the outside wall.

“Just one little fall, Maxie,” Michael taunted, looking over his shoulder to the ground five stories below. “That’s all it would take.”

“Max, don’t listen to him,” Isabel repeated, her eyes darting nervously between them.

“You know you want to,” Michael continued, obeying his inner masters and ignore Isabel’s cries. “You could have it all the time, Max. Not just when I fix you up.”

“What is he talking about?” Isabel demanded, but Max was staring silently at his friend.

Michael jumped again and this time the balcony tilted to one side. Isabel screamed and grabbed Max with both hands.

“You want to, Max. You want to fall.”

Max swallowed, wondered what it would feel like to hit the pavement that hard.

“You’re thinking about it. It won’t hurt for long. Then you’ll wake up just like me.”

Isabel’s eyes flooded with tears of desperation. “Max, please,” she pleaded.

Michael flexed his knees to jump again and Isabel took the opportunity to wrap her arms around Max’s waist. She pulled him through the door and into the apartment, his weight falling painfully on top of her. Outside, there was the loud shot-gun crack of splitting wood, the creak of twisting metal and suddenly Michael disappeared from view.

Max and Isabel scrambled to their knees and looked out the sliding doors. The space where the balcony had once been poorly constructed was now void. They looked down to the street, many floors below.

Maria’s return from the bus station produced screams of horror that drifted up to the alien duo on the fifth floor. They looked down to see her amidst the twisted wreckage of the balcony, cradling the twisted body of Michael Guerin.


THE END