Sibling Rivalry

By Karen

Email: Omarsfan1@aol.com

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Wish I owned stock in UPN; glad I don’t own stock in WB; don’t own any of these characters either

Summary: Isabel and Max part on bad terms, which can only lead to bad things

Category: Other

Author’s Notes: Feedback always appreciated!  Enjoy!

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Part One

Liz Parker raised her small hand to knock on Max Evans’ bedroom window, but stopped short when she noticed Max lying on his bed, apparently asleep with the lights on.  Liz tried the window, found it surprisingly unlocked, and pulled it open.  She slid her small body through the opening, then stopped at the foot of Max’s bed.

Facing the wall, Max was lying on his side, his back turned to the light on his nightstand.  His legs were drawn up in a half-fetal position and one hand cradled his cheek while the other was sandwiched between his knees.  Even in sleep, his eyebrows were furrowed as if in deep concentration.  The only evidence that he was truly asleep was the occasional flutter of his eyelids and the steady, light snoring from his lips.  Liz looked down at him sympathetically, noted that he was still dressed and was still wearing his shoes.

Liz reached down and carefully slid off one of his shoes, then the other.  Then she tiptoed to his chair, picked up a blanket and lovingly pulled it over him.  She turned to reach for the light and just as she flipped it off, she heard a change in the rhythm of Max’s breathing, a sudden intake of breath.  She glanced over her shoulder and saw Max’s body shifting under the blanket.  Holding her breath, she remained perfectly still, hoping he was just adjusting his position in his sleep and that she hadn’t disturbed him.  But he rolled all of the way to his other side so that he was facing her.

Max’s long fingers scratched his face, then his hair as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.  His dark eyes were glazed and squinted half-shut, but they opened a little wider when they settled on Liz.  He attempted a drowsy smile and absently reached for her hand.

Liz gave him a full smile and intercepted his hand before he could knock anything over.  His fingers squeezed hers and Liz felt the jolt of their closeness all of the way to her toes.  Max gently pulled her down so she was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.  He coiled his body around hers, his legs against one of her hips, his chest against the other.  Liz placed a hand in his dark hair.

“Hi,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Hi,” Liz repeated quietly.

He sighed heavily, squeezed her hand again as his eyes drifted shut even as he was vainly attempting to keep them open.

“I can leave,” Liz said in the darkness.  “You need sleep.”

Max shook his head against the smooth fabric of his sheets.  “No, stay with me a while.”  He rolled onto his back, disengaged himself from her.  Liz shifted her position so that she was facing him.  He was lying flat on his back, his arms stretched straight out at his sides and his feet were crossed at the ankles.  Liz drew in a little breath as she realized what he resembled – a man on a crucifix.

Disturbed by the similarities, Liz touched one of his arms tentatively, prompting him to distort the image by altering his position so he could rest his hand on her thigh.  Max fully opened his eyes and looked at her, almost as though he realized for the first time that she was there.  Max was not an easy-riser.  Liz had seen him struggle in his waking moments to regain coherence more than once.  She knew if she waited patiently that he would eventually rejoin reality.  Truth be told, she enjoyed those foggy moments of his when he reached for her hand as gentle reassurance as he emerged from his slumber.

“Hi,” he said to her.

“Hi,” she repeated, pretending they hadn’t already had this exchange. 

He touched her hair and yawned, then glanced at his clock.  His eyes widened and he sat up on his elbows.  “Oh, God, Liz, I am so sorry!” he started.  “I came home and just – “

Liz hushed him.  “It’s okay.  You look like you need the rest.”

He lay back down, gave a sigh and yawned again.  His free forearm went to his forehead as he stared at the ceiling.

Liz watched him closely.  “How did it go?” she inquired.

He shook his head and glanced at her.  “Awful.  Just awful.”

Liz’s expression displayed her hurt for him.  She stretched out on the bed beside him and slipped under his welcoming arm.  Sliding a hand across his body, she tucked her head beneath his chin and lay her ear against his chest.  They fit so well together – like hand in glove.  Max’s arm slid around her waist and squeezed her tightly.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Liz asked against his body.

Max let out another sigh.  “I don’t know, Liz…watching her walk away, wondering if I would ever see her again…”  His voice trailed off as he thought about Isabel, wondered what she was doing at that very moment.

“She’ll come back,” Liz tried to reassure.

“I’m not so sure,” Max said gloomily.  “She’s determined about this.  She didn’t even say goodbye to me.”

Liz lifted her head so she could see Max’s face.  He looked defeated.  She knew that Max and Isabel had fought before she left, but she had expected them to come to a compromise before the day of her departure had arrived.  Apparently that hadn’t happened.  Looking into his face, Liz realized there was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, to make him feel better.  The experience had been draining enough that he’d come home completely exhausted and had fallen asleep fully clothed.  What was she possibly going to do to make him feel better?

She kissed him.  Max seemed surprised at first, but then gave in to her affections.  When her hand reached for his zipper, however, he let out a groan and broke their kiss.  Liz looked at him questioningly.

“I’m just too tired,” he apologized.

But Liz smiled gently and kissed the end of his nose.  “Then we’ll just sleep,” she offered.  “We can talk tomorrow.”  Then she unceremoniously dropped his zipper in spite of her words.  Max’s eyes widened and Liz gave him a wide grin.  “You’re going to have to take them off anyway, Max,” she teased.  “So you’ll sleep better.”

Max stripped to his boxers and they kissed a while longer, until the exhaustion overcame his body once again and he fell asleep in her arms.

Isabel dropped her bags by the door and let out a weary sigh.  She flipped on the light and surveyed the apartment – it was sparsely furnished, but clean, tidy and inviting.  She could still hear Tess’s voice as it came over the phone line, “Sure, you’re welcome here any time.  Please make yourself at home.”

Isabel took a quick tour of the place – 2 bedrooms, a small bathroom with a wonderful old-fashioned claw-foot tub (definitely a relaxing bath for her later), a kitchen-dinette combination, a tiny living room.  Not the Hilton Suites, but it would do.  She parted the drapes and looked out at the cityscape before her.  Boston at night.  So bright, so unlike tiny Roswell with its gas streetlights and quaint sidewalks.  She felt a million miles from home.

Sinking onto the worn couch, she kicked off her shoes and just sat in silence for a while.  In her mind, the farewell at the airport played over and over like a sticking record.  Her dad, the skilled lawyer, showed little sadness although Isabel knew it was hurting him to see his daughter leave.  Her mother had wept like a baby.  And Max kept looking at her expectantly, like she was just going to suddenly throw her arms around him and let bygones be bygones - even though Isabel hadn’t even made direct eye contact with him, she’d been able to determine as much from his body language.  Isabel’s lips turned downward in a full frown at the memory.  Fuck Max.

Why was she thinking about Max?  She hadn’t thought about him all the way across the country.  But, then again, she’d been busy chatting up the handsome businessman who was sitting beside her on the plane.  He’d been extremely nice, cordially talkative without being overbearing and hadn’t hit on her once.  His name was Chris, if she remembered correctly.  He’d shown her pictures of his wife, his kids, had let her play with his Palm Pilot during the long flight.  In turn, Isabel had shown him pictures of her family – breezing past the smiling face of Max  – and Alex, had let him play with the Game Boy Michael had bought her as a going-away present.  They had been wonderful distractions.  But now, sitting alone in Tess’s small apartment on the other side of the country, Isabel had no distractions.

When was Tess going to be home?  She’d mentioned she had plans, she might be out late, but for Isabel just to make herself at home.  God, if Tess were there, Isabel could think about something else, she’d have someone to talk to.  And there would be no talking about Max since Tess didn’t really even want to hear his name.

Isabel dispelled a disgusted groan and pushed herself to her feet.  She grabbed her bags and headed back to the spare bedroom.  Tess had put clean linens on the bed and a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand.  Isabel smiled at that – Tess wasn’t half the monster the others made her out to be.  She could be caring and understanding and giving.  Her introduction as “the other woman” had been her Achilles Heal.  None of the others had accepted her.  Certainly not Max and most definitely not Liz.

Placing the suitcase on the small twin bed, Isabel popped open the bag and retrieved her toiletries and a robe.  She went to the bathroom and started the water in the deep tub.  Old tubs were the best – they were deep enough that you could easily submerse your whole body, but short enough that you could recline without your head sliding under the water.  She stripped off her clothes, glad to be free of them after her long journey, pulled her hair into a knot atop her head, and slid into the welcoming water.

Isabel closed her eyes as she slowly waved her hand back and forth under the water, making waves.  She gave a mental shrug and used a bit of her power to create a gentle whirlpool.  Just as her thoughts were clearing, she thought of Max, of his puppy dog, wounded eyes pleading with her to just say, “Don’t worry – all is forgiven.”  And she hadn’t done it.  With a flip of her hair, she’d turned her back on him and had walked away, leaving him feeling guilty and hurt and upset.  Isabel was a class A bitch.

Using her toes to pull the plug, Isabel climbed out of the tub, dried off carelessly and pulled on the robe.  Well, so much for the relaxing bath idea.

In the kitchen, she ran some water into the teakettle and put it on the stove to heat.  She smiled to herself – she could have heated the water with a wave of her hand, but there was something domestic about using the kettle, like she was making something in her own kitchen for the first time.  Of course, it wasn’t her kitchen, it was Tess’s, but still – this was Isabel’s first taste of independence.  She walked over to the still-parted drapes and looked out on the city.  It had started to rain.  She glanced at the clock – it was after 2:00 am.  Only 11:00 Roswell time and her body hadn’t adjusted to the fact that it was very early in the morning.

The teakettle whistled and Isabel moved to pour the water into a cup.  Her fingers slipped on the handle, however, and the steaming water splashed on the back of her hand.  She gasped, and without thinking she turned to ask Max to fix it for her.  There was no Max.  Max was thousands of miles away, possibly hating her.  Isabel felt a tear come to her eye and she glanced toward the phone.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she wrapped a wet dish towel over her burnt hand, hastily dialed the number and waited as it rang, her heart thumping a little quicker in her chest.  You should have said it at the airport, she chided herself.

The phone suddenly picked up on the other end and a young female voice said, “Hello?”

Isabel withdrew.  That was Liz’s voice.  She hung up.

Once again Max was awake, looking at Liz.  Liz had the phone in her hand and she looked perplexed.

“Liz?” he said, shielding his eyes from the light.

Liz placed the receiver back on the cradle and rolled toward him, her long hair mussed from her sleep.  “They hung up,” she said groggily.

“Did they say anything?” Max asked, sitting up on one elbow.

Liz shook her head and kissed his cheek.  “No, go back to sleep, babe.”

Max shook his head.  He was awake now.  “I’m up,” he sighed.  He swung his legs out of the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door discretely behind him.

Liz lay back on the bed, her heart still pounding in her chest from the sudden ringing of the phone.  She had a strange feeling that it had been Isabel on the other end.  She didn’t know why she felt that way; it was just a very strong intuition.  Scratching his head, Max emerged from the bathroom and slid back onto the bed with her.

“Max,” Liz started.

“Yeah,” he responded, looking with wide-awake eyes at the ceiling.

“Do you have Tess’s number?”

Max turned his head so he could see her.  His eyes were wary.  “Why?”

“Because I think that was Isabel.”

Max let out a sigh and a long silence ensued.  Then he got up from the bed again and held out his hand to her.  “Let’s get some ice-cream.”

Max held her hand as they went to the kitchen.  They both tiptoed so they wouldn’t alert his parents.  Liz had to walk behind Max as they passed a decorative table in the hallway and she couldn’t help appreciating his wide, bare shoulders; she smiled at his boxer shorts.  What would his parents say if they came downstairs and saw their son eating ice cream in his underwear with his girlfriend?  Liz giggled.  Max looked over his shoulder with a questioning glance.  She bit her bottom lip and resorted to tweaking his butt with her free hand.  Max laughed lightly. 

Liz slid onto one of the kitchen stools while Max rummaged in the hallway closet for a shirt.  In his room, cuddled up with the love of his life, he’d been warm, but the rest of the house had an odd chill to it.  Max’s lips curved into a frown as he realized the life, the warmth of the house was gone.  He pulled a hockey jersey Michael had left one day over his head and it reached way below the bottom of his shorts.  Liz giggled again.  Max looked down and smiled.

“Nice skirt,” Liz said, containing herself.

“Shut up,” Max laughed affectionately as he opened the freezer to get the ice cream.  He scooped some vanilla into a bowl and set it before her.  Then he rummaged around until he found what he wanted – Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey…and some nice Tabasco from the refrigerator.  He slid onto a stood beside Liz and shook the Tabasco into the container.

Liz wrinkled her nose.  “What if someone else wanted some of that?” she asked.  “Shouldn’t you have used a bowl?”

Max grinned.  “No, I’m the only one who likes Chunky Monkey.  Except for Isabel and she…”  His voice trailed off but his mind completed the thought – and she’s not here to eat any of it anyway.  As Max’s expression fell, Liz put down her spoon and reached across the counter to touch his hand.  He turned sad eyes to her and heaved a sigh.  “She didn’t even kiss me goodbye,” he said softly.

Liz brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it.  She looked over her shoulder at the phone, then back to Max.  Max followed her gaze, then sadly shook his head.

“Why not?” Liz asked softly.

Max stared at the counter top.  “I tried,” he said.  “I couldn’t make her talk to me.  I tried everything in my power to get her to look at me at the airport, but she acted like I wasn’t even there.”  He looked up to meet Liz’s eyes again.  “If she could ignore me when I was right in front of her, what is to stop her from hanging up on me?  It’s all up to her now, Liz.”

“But I think she called you,” Liz said gently.

“We don’t know that.”

Liz looked toward the phone again, then grimaced.  “Why don’t you people have caller id?”

Max laughed lightly at that and squeezed her hand.  “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do.  I appreciate your being here.  But, this thing just needs to play itself out, okay?  I know you want to help, but it’s between me and Iz now.”

Liz nodded her understanding and slid off her stool.  She slipped her body between Max’s legs and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  Seated on the stool, he was dropped to the same height as her and she lovingly rubbed her cheek against his.  Max inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair.

The sound of shuffling footsteps separated them and they turned to see Phillip Evans opening the refrigerator door.  He poured himself a glass of milk, drank half of it, then glanced at Max.  “Are you wearing pants, son?” he asked quizzically.

Max nodded.

“Okay, then,” Phillip said and shuffled back toward his bedroom.

Liz and Max exchanged an amused glance, then burst out laughing.

Part Two

Across town, in a much less affluent area, two other teens were awake and roaming another kitchen.  Long legs stretched out before him, Michael Guerin was seated at the kitchen table.  He was watching Maria Deluca wash the dishes.  It wasn’t the washing that intrigued him – it was the fact that she was singing and dancing at the sink, her slim hips rotating in an oddly suggestive manner. Doesn’t she know what she’s doing to me? he asked himself.  Can she possibly be that oblivious?

Maria stretched her long frame to put away a dish on a high shelf and Michael nearly groaned aloud.  He had to shift his weight and cross his legs to hide his sudden bodily reaction to her.  Maria turned around, blue eyes taking him in, full lips pursed into their perpetual pout.

“Did you say something?” she asked.

Michael shook his head, then gestured to the chair beside him.  “You about done?”

Maria walked over from the sink and kissed the end of his nose.  “No, but I’ll take a break – just for you.”  Then she planted a big one on him and Michael did groan aloud.  She looked down into his lap and smiled.  “Hell-o,” she sing-songed.

Michael gave her a smirk and gently pushed her away.  “It’s a present,” he joked.  “Just for you.”

“Oh,” Maria replied, acting excited.  “Maybe I’ll open it later.”

“Yes, please do.”

She giggled and went back to the sink.  Her mother was out with friends – she’d probably be out most of the night.  There wasn’t much doubt about Maria eventually opening Michael’s “package”.  She wiped her hands on a towel, then went back to sit on Michael’s lap.  She kissed him for a while then kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair.

“Did you say goodbye to Isabel?” she asked.

Michael smiled and nodded.  “I gave her the Game Boy.  She looked like she actually liked it.”

“Really?”  Maria laughed.  “Who’d’ve thunk it?”

Michael nodded his agreement.  “She’ll be okay,” he said confidently, trying to assure himself as well as Maria.  “She’s a strong woman, Isabel.  She’ll be okay.”

“I know she will,” Maria agreed eagerly, then her expression fell.  “Did she talk to Max?”

Michael met Maria’s gaze, then shook his head.  Maria frowned and kissed his forehead again.  Michael sighed.

“Hopeless?” Maria asked.

Michael shrugged.  “I dunno.  Your sister goes off to live with a person who made your life hell.  So, basically she has chosen between the two of you.  What do you do about that?”

Unable to think of an answer, Maria looked at the floor.

“Where’s the devotion in that?” Michael continued.  “She and Max have been through so much, Maria.  From the moment they came out of the pods, they’ve been together, never apart.  Even in crowds, like at school or concerts or football games, they gravitated to one another.  I don’t even think they were aware that it happened.  They just naturally came together.  And now…”  He shook his head.  “To just leave like that, all full of hatred and anger.”

Maria knew Michael had gravitated to Max and Isabel also, that it wasn’t just the two of them, but rather the three of them that had clung together.  First because they were the only ones who knew the big secret, and then afterward because they were the same.  Whatever Max and Isabel were made of, so was Michael.  It must be hurting him horribly, Maria realized, to have Isabel so far away.  Without being aware of it, a tear slipped down Maria’s smooth cheek.

Michael raised a concerned eyebrow and almost looked panicked.  Sometimes he couldn’t handle Maria’s emotional swings.  He used his fingers to wipe away her tears.  “What’s that for?” he asked.

Maria put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly.  “Nothing,” she said as she squeezed him tighter.  When she pulled back, she looked into his confused eyes and smiled.  “Can I open my package now?”

Isabel felt a hand brush her forehead and she quickly opened her eyes.  She’d fallen asleep on the couch and sunlight was streaming through the opened drapes.  Before her, Tess was kneeling by the couch.  Her pretty lips were stretched into a wide smile.  Isabel drew in a quick breath, sat up and quickly pulled her friend into her arms.

“Oh, Tess!” Isabel breathed against her shoulder.  “It’s so great to see you!”  Isabel pulled back and glanced toward the window – it was morning.  “Did you just get home?”

Tess laughed in embarrassment.  “Yeah.  I, um, have a boyfriend.”

Isabel’s eyes widened in realization, then she laughed too.  “That’s wonderful.  Really wonderful.”  She thought briefly of Alex, felt a pang of guilt for leaving him behind.

“He is,” Tess agreed, her blue eyes sparkling.  “And he has a friend.”

“A friend?” Isabel questioned uncertainly.

Tess nodded.  “I want you to meet him.”  Then she caught Isabel’s wary expression and reached over to touch her arm.  “Some time.  Doesn’t have to be now.”

Tess got up from her crouched position and moved into the kitchen.  Isabel sat up and stretched.

“I’ll cook breakfast,” Tess offered as she opened the refrigerator.

Isabel glanced at the clock.  7:00 am.  It was only 4:00 in Roswell.  And it was still 4:00 inside her body as well.  She frowned.  How long would it be until she stopped comparing Boston time to Roswell time and wondering what everyone there was doing?

A week after Isabel’s departure, Max drifted in and out of sleep, but finally plunged headlong into a deep slumber.  First there was nothing but the abyss, nothing but blackness, but then he found himself embroiled in the reoccurring dream that haunted him the most.

The Atherton book was opened before him and he knew in his gut that it held all of the answers he’d been looking for.  Every question, every uncertainty, would be answered in the book’s smooth pages.  Only the pages were blank, empty, white.  Frantic, Max flipped from one cover of the book to the other.  He felt panic rising inside of his body that his history, his importance, his life had been mysteriously erased.

Then the dream altered itself.  He felt a warm, soft hand touch his and he glanced up in his panic to see Isabel slide into the seat across from him.  She smoothed the skin of his hand and smiled warmly at him.

“Iz?” Max gasped.  He held up the book.  “It’s empty.  Where did all of the words go, Iz?”

“They don’t matter,” Isabel told him.  “You know who you are, don’t you?”

Max racked his sleep-befuddled mind.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure who I am.  Who am I, Isabel?”

“You’re my brother, silly.”

Max stopped, realized this had turned into one of those strange dreams where he knew he was dreaming.  Even more odd, he knew that it was out of the normal course of the reoccurrence that Isabel had suddenly appeared in his nightmare.  He stopped panicking and looked straight into her dark eyes.

“Are you dream-walking me?” he asked bluntly.

Isabel seemed to withdraw a bit, then indignantly tossed her hair over her shoulder.  “What if I were?”

“Why are you here, Iz?”  Max could feel himself start to sweat, could feel the tears sting his eyes.

She hesitated, then Max saw her jaw set in defiance.  “I’m not here.  I’m just a dream.”

And she was gone.

Max awoke from his dream with a start.  He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  Holding his head in his hands, he quickly went over the events of the dream for fear his conscious mind would forget them.  She was there, inside his head.  She’d visited him.  And he’d managed to call her on it.  Why had he done that?  He should have played it cool, let her believe that she was tricking him, just so he could find out her purpose.

Max walked to the bathroom and retrieved glass of water, which he gulped thirstily.  He looked at his reflection in the mirror and couldn’t keep the question from running over and over in his mind – why had she been there, and what was she trying to tell him?

As the jeep bounced over the back roads of Roswell, Liz noted that Max seemed a little more quiet than normal.  He’d been kind of withdrawn since Isabel had left, but tonight he just seemed preoccupied, almost upset.  Liz bit her lip then reached over and put her hand on his leg.

Max turned to look at her, his expression blank.  When he realized her was looking at her expressionlessly, he forced himself to give her a smile and placed his hand over hers.

“You okay?” Liz asked.

Max nodded as he glanced back to the road.  “Yeah, of course.”

“Do you still want to go to Michael’s?”

“You know I do.”  I was a special day – the day that Max had “found” Michael 7 years prior and the three podsters were reunited.  It was an anniversary of sorts and they always got together to celebrate it.  Though this year there was no Isabel.  Michael had told Max that she had called him earlier to wish him a happy anniversary, but she hadn’t bothered to call Max.  She hadn’t called in the week she’d been gone.

“It’s a special day, huh?” Liz said, trying to make cheerful conversation.  She knew Max was thinking about his sister.

“It is.”  Max smiled sincerely.  “It’s the day I found my brother.”

Liz smiled in return.  She knew genetically, in that other world, Max and Michael weren’t siblings.  But before they had been privy to that information, they had always regarded each other as brothers – complete with fistfights, practical jokes and genuine concern for one another – and no book was going to tell them they weren’t.

The jeep suddenly bucked and started to slow down, the dash lights flickering and going dark.  Max frowned and pulled to the side of the road.  He cursed to himself as he jumped from the driver’s seat and walked around to pop the hood.  Liz waited patiently – “Bob” the jeep was always breaking down in one way or another.  Liz silently wondered when Max was going to have enough money saved to buy something more reliable.  She watched as Max waved his hand across the engine to no avail.  He came back to the driver’s seat and reached under the dash.  Another wave of his hand and the dash lights jumped to life, sending a blue glow to everything around them.  Max smiled but Liz shuddered.  The eerie blue light cast shadows across Max’s handsome face, distorting his features and giving him an otherworldly appearance.  The color turned his skin a strange grayish-blue, the shadows causing deep bags under his eyes, deepening his cheeks and giving his teeth a jagged quality.  Liz was suddenly reminded of that night in his room when she’d likened him to a man a crucifix.  For the second time in a week, she’d envisioned Max as a corpse.

“Max,” she breathed, her voice shaking.

Max straightened and met her gaze, his eyes confused at the fear in her expression.  Sitting away from the lights, he became Max again, not the corpse Liz had seen.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her.  “I fixed it.  Something in the wiring down there.”

“I know.  It’s not the jeep, it’s…”  Her voice trailed off as she realized she wasn’t making any sense.  She forced a smile and glanced at her watch.  “We’d better go.  We’re late.”

Max eyed her in concern for a few moments, then reached to start the jeep.

Tess’s boyfriend, Paul, was everything she’d claimed him to be – handsome, witty, tender with her.  Isabel watched them converse from across the table and felt a sudden pang of loneliness.  She thought of Alex, many thousands of miles away, and of how she’d dumped him.  Unceremoniously.  Goodbye, Alex.  I’m leaving.  That had been the end of it.  Isabel wondered what he was doing, what he was thinking.  Out of pure reflex, she glanced at her watch to check the time – 7:00 PM Boston time, 4:00 Roswell time.  She racked her brain to recall Alex’s annoyingly routine schedule.  He’d just be getting home from school, probably.  Then he’d go to the refrigerator, get out a Yoo Hoo, plop down on the couch and start flipping though a music magazine.  Isabel smiled in spite of herself.

“How’s your fish?” the man sitting to Isabel’s left asked her, breaking her from her revere.

She glanced his way and gave him her best man-eater smile.  “It’s wonderful,” she said, taking a sip of her water.  His name was Jackson and he was a friend of Paul’s, the friend Tess had mentioned on Isabel’s first morning in Boston.  Jackson was also very attractive, very tall – he towered over Isabel, not easy since her own height was considerable.  His eyes reminded Isabel of Max’s for some reason – perhaps it was their color, or maybe it was their depth.  She frowned over the lip of her water glass  - she didn’t want to think about Max.

A week or so ago, she’d actually been so lonely for him that she’d dreamwalked him.  He was embroiled in some nonsense regarding the Atherton book and blank pages.  At first she’d been disgusted with him that he was still so wrapped up in finding out who he was; then she’d seen his desperation, his panic, and she had felt the need to intervene in his nightmare.  That had been a mistake.  She’d enjoyed the feel of his skin under her hand, had enjoyed hearing the sound of his soft voice, but somehow he’d been able to figure out that he was dreaming and that she shouldn’t be there.  She’d bailed on him – again.

“You’re really quite lovely,” Jackson said to Isabel.

Isabel could feel her cheeks redden.  When was the last time a guy had made her blush?  She looked into her lap and toyed with her napkin.  “Oh, well, that’s very kind of you.”

He was leaning on his arm, his chin cradled in his hand.  “No, I’m serious.  Could I shoot you some time?”

Isabel stopped cold at the word ‘shoot’.

Tess giggled lightly from the other side of the table.  “Jackson’s a photographer,” she laughed.

“Oh!” Isabel exclaimed.  “Of course.  Silly me.”  She giggled.  Giggled?  Isabel Evans didn’t giggle.

Jackson’s eyes were amused.  “So, may I?”

Isabel met his eyes, saw no deceit there.  “Um, okay.  Why not?”

He smiled widely at her.  “That’s great.  I’ll set aside some time and maybe you can come by my studio.”

“Okay.  Sure.”  Why were her palms sweating?

“Jackson is good at what he does,” Tess explained.  “He took some of me, didn’t you, Jack?”

Jackson turned his attention to Tess.  “I sure did.  You’re a wonderful subject, too.”  He glanced back to Isabel.  “Maybe I could shoot both of you together sometime.  You’re both blond, beautiful.”  He reached over and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes.  “Yet different in so many ways.”

Isabel could suddenly feel her heart starting to pump a little faster.  She gave him a gracious smile, then glanced at Tess.  “Ladies room?”

Tess gave her a knowing smile and excused herself.

In the washroom, Isabel blotted her makeup with a towel.  “Mama mia, Tess!” she laughed as she brushed on more face powder.

Tess giggled.  “I told you he was something, didn’t I?”

Isabel put her hand to her chest, then grabbed Tess’s and put it there.  “Feel my heart!” she exclaimed.  “I’m going to have a heart attack!  He’s going to think I’m a goof!”

Tess laughed again. “You’re doing fine.  Paul said they want to have us over for a little party some time.  Do you want to go?”

Isabel fanned her face.  “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked, Tess.”

Part Three

“Tell me the story again,” Maria pleaded as she leaned against Michael’s shoulder.  “I never get sick of hearing it.”

Michael gave a groan.    New year, same story about how Max found Michael.  Michael decided to spice up the story a bit.  “I was working in this grocery store, you see.”

Max looked at him in amusement as Maria recoiled, a confused expression on her pretty face.

“And Maxwell here, he comes in looking all suspicious,” Michael continued.

“Grocery store?” Maria asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.  “When you were 9?”

“Times were rough – Hank was laid off,” Michael explained.  “Someone had to pay for his beer and cigarettes.”  Max looked to the floor to hide his grin.  “Anyway, if you don’t mind not interrupting me.  So Max comes in looking all sneaky and I see him heading over to the condiments section.  Looking mighty guilty, he was.  Then I see the little bastard pocket a bottle of Tabasco.”

Liz decided to play along.  “Did you turn him in?”

Michael shook his head.  “Nah.  I just walked up to him and said point-blank, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ And he said – what did you say, Max?”

Max scrambled mentally to come up with an appropriate response.  “I told you to go to hell.”

Liz stifled her laugh at the thought – like Max Evans would ever be rude enough to tell anyone to go to hell.

Michael nodded.  “That’s right.  You told me to go to hell and I said hell was just about as hot as the Tabasco I saw you put in your pocket.  Yeah, now I remember.  Anyway, I knew that he had to be pretty desperate to be lifting hot sauce, so I started to get suspicious.”

Maria couldn’t take it any longer.  “Wait – this never happened.  Tell us about the fight in the schoolyard, about Max running to help you.  That’s what happened.”

Michael looked at her indignantly.  “How do you know?  You weren’t there.  This is what happened.”  He cleared his throat.  “So, I just called him on it.  I said, ‘You’re one of us, aren’t you?’ And he said – what did you say, Max?”

Max perked up again.  “Oh, uh, nothing.  You scared me and I bolted.”

Michael slapped his knee.  “That’s right.  I forgot.  But I ran after him and cornered him and made him confess.  Then we had cocktails.”

“Cocktails?” Maria’s nose wrinkled.  “When you were 9?  Liz, are you believing this?” But Liz had buried her head in Max’s shoulder and was shaking uncontrollably with laughter.  Maria glanced at her friends, then let out a disgusted sigh.  “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

At that all three of them burst out laughing at Maria’s expense.  Michael put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her head.

Liz got up and moved to Michael’s small kitchen.  She pulled open the oven door and peered inside.  “Okay, guys,” she called over her shoulder.  Looks like it’s ready.”  She pulled the steaming pan of lasagna from the oven and kicked the door shut.

The others moved to the small table Michael had set up in one corner of the flat.  Maria had decorated the table with a nice tablecloth and napkins she’d borrowed from her mother; for an added touch, she’d placed a vase of fresh flowers in the center.  Liz brought the lasagna to the table and they ate, talking amicably.

Later in the evening, Michael brought out his photo album.  He didn’t have many pictures from his youth as Hank was usually too busy drinking and womanizing to be concerned with documenting his son’s younger years, but he had a lot of pictures from their early and later teen years after he’d acquired his own camera.  Michael and Max sat together on the couch and flipped through the album together.  At the first sight of Isabel, Max actually felt his heart tear and his hand went to his chest.  She was so beautiful, so young, so happy in those pictures.  Those photos were from a time when she told him she loved him and held him when he woke up with a nightmare.  Those images were from a time before she hated him.

“Iz has always been pretty, hasn’t she?” Liz asked, trying to relieve Max’s pain.

Max nodded as his fingers touched Isabel’s image.  “Beautiful,” he whispered.  He met Michael’s gaze and gave a weak smile.

“Enough pictures,” Michael decided, slamming the album shut.

Max jumped slightly at the snap of the covers.  “Michael, that’s not necessary.”

“But it is,” Michael said as he rose to his feet and went to the refrigerator.  “Because my girlfriend – beautiful in her own right – made us a wonderful dessert.  Who wants pie?”

Liz looked at the stars above her and wondered where Max’s planet was.  Could it been seen from here?  She crossed her eyes to make the stars blur together and giggled at the result.

“What’s so funny?” Max asked.

Liz rolled toward him, her long hair fanning out behind her on the blanket.  They had left Michael’s at a rather late hour, and had ended up in the desert instead of going home.  They’d made love, slow, gentle, tear-inducing love.  Liz didn’t think she’d ever felt more complete than when she was with Max.  She loved how being loved by him was both a painful and pleasant experience.  Sometimes she cried out of the sheer joy of being with him; tonight was one of those nights.

“Nothing,” she answered him.  She reached over and touched the side of his face.  “I love you, Max.”

He captured her hand and brought it to his lips.  “And you know I love you.”  He thought of her strange behavior earlier in the jeep.  “Liz, can I ask you something?”

Liz nodded against the blanket they’d spread on the ground.

“Earlier, when Bob broke down.  You kind of weirded on me there for a minute.”

Liz hoped she didn’t give away her fear.  “It was nothing.  I panicked for a minute – you know, thinking I was stranded.”  Had he bought it?

Max stared at her intently for a moment, then nodded his head.  “Okay, if that’s all it was.”

“It was.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”  He gave her a gentle smile.

Liz gently pushed him onto his back and sat astride him.  “Now,” she began.  “If the Q&A is over, how about an encore?”

Isabel milled around Jackson’s studio.  She hoped she didn’t appear as nervous as she was.  She’d put on her favorite black leather pants, a red sweater, and her black leather jacket.  She let her long locks hang loose.

“You have a wonderful place,” she told Jackson, who was readying his camera equipment.

“Thanks,” he said from behind a tripod.  “This is my life, my passion.”  He glanced up at Isabel.  “God,” he said, “you’re absolutely stunning.”

Isabel laughed.  “What do you want me to do?” she asked, glancing at the various props that littered the room.

“Nothing yet.  I want to do some portraits first, I think.”  He scratched his full head of hair.  “Yeah, that’ll be good.”  He gestured to a stool in front of a blue screen.  “Just have a seat.”

Isabel sat on the stool, her long legs bent too drastically to be comfortable.

Jackson laughed lightly and walked over to her.  “Stand up,” he said, still laughing.  “My last subject didn’t quite have your height.”  He flipped the stool over and adjusted it, then put it back upright so Isabel could sit.  He eyed her, brushed her hair over her shoulders.  Then he slid his hands inside of her jacket and Isabel felt her body stiffen.  Suddenly her whole body felt like it was awake, alive.  But he was only trying to remove the coat.  “Let’s try it without the jacket first, shall we?”

As Jackson took the pictures, Isabel felt more at ease.  She vamped for the camera – pouting, smiling, frowning.  She really enjoyed herself.  After an hour or so, Jackson came back over to her and took her by the hand.  He led her to the bed and could feel her immediately hesitation.

“Just pictures,” he told her, his intent eyes searching hers.  “Nothing naughty.”  His eyes moved to the buttons of her sweater.  “Except for this.”  His fingers traced a line from her throat to the top button, his eyes never leaving hers.  Deftly, his fingers popped the first two buttons of the sweater and gently pushed the fabric aside so that her cleavage was exposed.  Isabel could feel her breath quicken at their closeness.  Leaning close to her ear, Jackson whispered two words, “Trust me.”

In that moment, he suddenly sounded very much like Max.  Isabel could only nod.  Of course she would trust him.

Another dream, a different dreamer.

Liz Parker was dreaming that she was running a marathon.  A marathon that had no end.  Yet she felt free, not tired at all.  She smiled as she jogged, her feet pounding the pavement beneath her feet.  Isabel caught up to her.

“Hi, Liz.”

Liz glanced at her and smiled vacantly.

“How are you?”

Liz shrugged.  “Did you know the English language is the hardest to learn because of all of the words that sound alike but are spelled differently?”

Isabel frowned.  Who would have figured that Liz Parker was the one with the nonsensical dreams?  Isabel groaned.  “Well, thanks for that tidbit, Encyclopedia Elizabeth, but I’m here for some information.”

“The information super highway has the largest collection of information anywhere.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll check that out when I get back to the real world.  Until then, could you just shut up and answer me?”  Isabel loved that she could be as rude as she wanted in the dream plane and it didn’t make one bit of difference in the real world.

“It takes 10 eggs to make a lemon chiffon cake.”

Isabel scratched her head.  “Not the kind of info I’m looking for, Betty Crocker.  How’s my brother?”

Liz ran on in silence, apparently distracted by the scenery.

“My brother, Brainiac,” Isabel insisted.

Liz turned to her and gave her a suddenly lucid smile that sent chills through her.  “You don’t have a brother.  Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

At that Liz gave a little laugh.  “Oh, you know.  You know better than anyone what I mean.”

“If you mean that I don’t have him because we aren’t talking – “

Liz stopped running and Isabel nearly ran past her.  Liz stretched her hamstrings.  “Oh, no, Isabel, that’s not it.  You don’t have him because you killed him.”

Isabel drew in a sharp breath.

Liz looked her dead in the eyes.  “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

“What?  No!  I may be a little pissed at him, but I’d never hurt him.”

Liz walked up so she was almost nose-to-nose with Isabel.  “You will hurt him.  Count on it.”

Tess was suddenly leaning over Isabel, shaking her awake.  Isabel had tears streaming from the corners of her eyes and she gratefully slid into Tess’s waiting arms.

“It’s okay,” Tess said, smoothing her hair.  “It was just a dream.”

“I need to call Max,” Isabel said through her tears.

Tess only nodded.  “Okay, if you need to.”

Isabel swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked at the clock.  1:00 AM Boston time, 10:00 PM Roswell time.  He’d still be awake.  She let her head drop into her hands as she caught her breath and dried her tears. “Can I have some privacy?” she asked Tess.

Tess left her alone.  Isabel glanced at the phone, wiped her hand across her face to get rid of her tears.  Sniffling, she picked up the phone and dialed Max’s number.  After several rings, she heard his voice for the first time in almost a month.

“Hello?”

Her heart started to jump in her chest at the sound of that voice, soft, sort of raspy.  A voice she had heard in her head a million times since she’d left Roswell, but was now hearing for real.

“Hello?” he repeated, sounding a little agitated.

“Um, hi, Max,” Isabel stammered.  She hadn’t realized she hadn’t answered him.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.  “Hi, Isabel.”  Another pause.  “It’s late there.  Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Max.”  She sniffed, kicked herself for not thinking to cover the receiver first.

“Have you been crying?”

“Um, no.  I have a bit of a cold.  It’s chilly here.  It snowed yesterday.”

“Really?”

Isabel sighed mentally.  Dumb conversation.  “Yeah, listen, Max, I wanted to say that I’m sorry about the way I left.  We should have worked things out.”

“I know we should have.”

“And I don’t want you to be mad at me or anything – “

“How’s Tess?”

Isabel stopped cold at the tone of his voice.