Skeletons

by Yettaren

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Just the story.

Category: M/M, CC, General

Rating: R, mostly for language

Summary: Another post-graduation fic. When a body is unearthed in Roswell, it sets into motion a series of events that will lead the Pod Squad, humans and aliens alike, to face their past. Summer 2002.

Author’s Note: Well, I posted part one of my first Boardello story yesterday, and here’s part one of my second. Don’t worry, I’m not sidetracked (yet); I have a good bit written on both and will just alternate, posting a new part of something every day for the next few weeks as much as I can. I’ve had mono for the last two months and, well, about the only thing I felt like doing for awhile was writing! You’ll probably see a little more of Skeletons than The Short-Term Fix, because I have a lot more written of it (though the chapters tend to be a little shorter, I think.) Neither one is completely finished yet, so feedback is welcome. They’re both Michael stories and possibly both deal with fallout from the same episode, but that’s where the similarities stop. Enjoy…

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PART ONE

The silence in the library was deafening. The hum of the air conditioner, the rustle of papers, it all hung loudly, echoing inside Michael’s head.

Maria frowned at the pages in her lap. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, which was now in the habit of always keeping her in sight. “Michael,” she hissed, her voice breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking up.

“I can’t believe we missed this.” Her pink-painted nails fluttered above the pages.

“Missed what?”

“Britney and Justin. They broke up.”

Michael glanced down at the Sports Illustrated in his lap and glanced back up at her. In the seat beside him, Maria was staring right at him. She looked serious. And this wasn’t Maria’s form of sarcasm.

“Who?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t what he thought. Not his Maria, surely she wouldn’t sink so low…

“You know. Them. They broke up, he was seen at a nightclub flirting with a bunch of hoochies.” Maria closed the magazine and leaned her face into her palm. “You lose television access and look what happens. Oh, my god.”

“They didn’t break up,” came a whisper from the other side of the stacks, behind them. The face was invisible through the tall rack of books, but the voice was unmistakable.

Maria dove around in her chair to address the voice.

“How would you know?” she asked.

“My magazine said they were seen back together,” the faceless whisper said. “No need to worry, little soldier.”

“Okay, who are you people?” Michael demanded. He picked up his Sports Illustrated, took aim at Maria, and swatted.

“Hey!” she squealed, blocking his blow with her hands, and a host of faces turned to angrily shush them.

The voice, meanwhile, appeared on their side of the stacks in the form of the face and body of Kyle Valenti.

“If they really broke up, we would have heard about it by now,” Kyle said. “I wouldn’t let that little tidbit slip by unannounced.” He shrugged.

“I hope not,” Maria said, flipping her hair. She turned her attention back to her magazine.

Michael stared at her. “You’re not serious.”

“I am dead serious,” she said, her eyes focused in her lap.

“Relax, Guerin,” Kyle whispered, slipping into the seat on his other side, “you really should know her better than that.”

Michael looked back and forth between them suspiciously. “Take it back, then.”

“Take what back?” Maria asked innocently as she casually turned a page.

“Any pretended interest in Britney and Justin.”

“I love Justin Timberlake,” Maria said, casting her eyes up to the ceiling. “I want to have his babies.”

“Take it back!” Michael hissed, and grabbed at her arm, which she pulled away, giggling while at the same time trying to stifle her noise.

In the chair beside them, Kyle calmly took the opportunity to swipe the Sports Illustrated from Michael’s lap and delve into it as Michael and Maria continued to wrestle.

“He got your magazine,” Maria pointed out as she came near Michael’s ear in the struggle.

“If I have to come over here one more time, I will ask you two to leave the library,” a soft but stern voice came from beside them. All three looked up to see a member of the library staff glaring down at them.

“Sorry,” Maria said, biting her lip and smiling.

“Yeah. Oops,” Michael said. “We’re fine.”

Kyle flipped the pages of his magazine silently. The librarian walked away.

“Look at you, playing innocent,” Maria scolded Kyle, as soon as the librarian was back at the main desk. “I’m going to turn you in if we get kicked out.”

“Oh, the library police,” Kyle said. “I’m shivering.” He raised his hands in mock fear before returning to the Sports Illustrated.

Michael glanced down at his now unoccupied arms and casually threw one of them across the back of Maria’s chair. The kind of unconscious, silent gesture of companionship that could be taken for granted if it wasn’t thoroughly planned and intended. And much to his delight, she let it remain.

“Let me see that,” Michael said, leaning in closer to her to glance at the pages of her magazine.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Senor PDA. Do I need to call our friend back over?” Kyle asked. “I’m outta here.” He started to stand up.

“Then gimme my magazine back,” Michael said immediately.

Maria laughed. “Kyle, sit down,” she said.

Kyle obliged, and Michael took the opportunity to lean in even closer, on pretense of reading the same article as Maria. He really wasn’t that interested in fall skirt designs, but the hand that was turning the pages was something to look at indeed.

Across the library, their traveling companions were somewhat less cheerful.

There were five internet stations working, and all were occupied with a long line. Hence the thirty-minute rule. And for fugitives with the rare opportunity to get on the internet, the thirty-minute rule was giving them quite a bit of frantic stress.

Isabel idly clicked through her routine websites. She checked her e-mail. A couple of friends from school had written her, apparently unaware she was on the run. A couple of other friends from school had written inquiring into her whereabouts, indeed aware of her situation. Nobody she cared about too much, so it was fine that she didn’t reply. She checked the general news websites – no major catastrophes that they’d missed for any reason. She checked the Roswell Daily News website; no big news today about anybody they knew. And then she looked at the archives for the week, and she felt her blood run cold.


WEDNESDAY JULY 10 11:38 a.m. BODY FOUND IN FRASIER WOODS IDENTIFIED


She took a deep breath, licked her lips unconsciously, and clicked on the link with a feeling of dread.

As she read it, she felt a tightening in her shoulders. Her toes curled up inside her boots. It couldn’t be.

“Max,” Isabel whispered across her console. Max’s computer was right across from hers. “Max!”

No reply. She leaned over to look and only saw the tops of his shoulders. He was bending down over Liz’s computer.

“Max!” she said in full voice. “This is important!”

Max’s head shot up, his cheeks flushed.

“Whatisit?” he asked, a little too quickly. Liz looked up beside him guiltily.

“Go to the printer now,” she said. “I’m printing it out.”

Max obliged, shooting Liz a conspiratorial glance and shoving himself up from the chair. The two conjoining computer workstations, with high walls and no one nearby to pry, had been an ideal opportunity for the two of them to, well, do some conjoining. It was hard enough to get private time these days. He felt Liz’s eyes boring into his back as he walked to the computer, much as her fingers had just been exploring it. He felt color rush to his cheeks as he realized how close they’d been to his sister. But in the heat of the moment, he really didn’t care.

The color drained as he read the paper emerging from the printer.

PART TWO


Max felt his hands shaking a little as he clung to the freshly printed article in his hands.

‘ ROSWELL, N.M.------

The decomposed body discovered Sunday in Frasier Woods has been identified by dental records as a 46 year-old Roswell man who disappeared in 2000.

Despite bizarre skeletal deformities characteristic of a string of murders in the southwest, no cause of death has been identified.

Hank Whitmore was last seen in February 2000. Police records show a domestic disturbance occurred on the evening of February 12. Whitmore was reported missing on February 13. On February 19, the case was closed, with records showing that Whitmore indicated he was relocating to Las Cruces.

“There’s no evidence to suggest he ever made it here,” said Kathy Wilder, a representative of the Las Cruces police department. “We’re working closely with the Roswell sheriff’s department to figure out what happened between there and here.”

At the time of the disappearance, Whitmore was the court-appointed guardian to an underage minor. The minor was initially held in connection with the disappearance, but was later released.

Sources close to the investigation report a possible connection between the unidentified minor and the events at West Roswell High School graduation in May. The annual graduation event was marked by gunfire, and the subsequent disappearance of six Roswell teenagers. One of the missing graduates, Michael Guerin, 17, was known to be a minor emancipated from the foster system.

“We are not authorized to release any records identifying underage minors in court custody,” Chaves County DSS official Patricia Rodriguez said in a statement to reporters Tuesday.

An anonymous man who claimed to be a former coworker to Whitmore confirmed that Guerin was in Whitmore’s custody at one time.

Police declined to comment on any connection between the unidentified minor and the West Roswell incident. ‘



The first few paragraphs were bad enough, but there it was. Michael Guerin. In black and white. Connected with Hank’s death.

“We can’t show this to him,” he found himself saying quietly to Isabel, as Liz clung to his side, the two of them looking over Isabel’s shoulder. Isabel was rapidly printing out every news item she could find relating to the Whitmore body, in the five minutes she had left before her time expired.

“Can’t show it to him?” Liz repeated. “Max, are you nuts? You owe it to Michael to be honest with him. At the very least.”

“It was a long time ago,” Max said. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Max,” Isabel said quietly, “you don’t think…”

Max stared at her. “I didn’t.”

“But…”

Liz looked back and forth between them. “Okay, you guys are scaring me now.”

“I’m scaring myself,” Isabel said quietly.

“Isabel, stop it,” Max hissed. “He couldn’t have.”

“I don’t know, Max…”

“We went through this at the time. He had a rock-solid alibi, Isabel. He was with Maria.”

“Wait, wait,” Liz said. “You don’t think Michael did something to Hank Whitmore?”

“He was scared,” Max whispered. “So scared. You know how paranoid Michael used to be about adults, that somebody would figure out about us… well, Hank figured it out. At least he saw Michael use his powers. It was his worst fear – that anybody would see him do it, and that it would be Hank. He had nightmares about that kind of thing.”

“Hank was dangerous, too,” Isabel said, her eyes staring through the screen as she clicked on another article. “He’d hurt Michael before, when he thought he was just some orphan kid. There’s no telling what he was capable of when he was scared of Michael.”

“You two are scaring me,” Liz said. She wound her arm around Max’s waist for reassurance. “Michael couldn’t have killed somebody, I mean…”

“He killed Agent Pierce,” Max said tightly.

“Which devastated him, Max. Am I right?”

Isabel glanced up at Max.

“He was never like that when Hank vanished,” Liz pointed out.

“When Hank vanished, he got emancipated,” Isabel countered. “It was a lot to deal with.”

“When Agent Pierce died, Michael was rescuing me and finding out about Tess and our destiny, and learning to trust the Valentis,” Max ticked off. “It was a lot, too. She’s right, Isabel. Michael wasn’t capable.”

Isabel sighed. “Then if we’re sure, do we have to show him this?”

“He deserves to know,” Liz said firmly.

The three of them looked up. Across the library, they could see Michael, his arm thrown around Maria, leaning into her ear and whispering something that was sending her into a fit of convulsive laughter.

“Let’s get out of here,” Max whispered.

Liz nodded to Isabel and scurried to the printer, which was delivering the last few articles Isabel had found, spitting out page after page of news reports from the previous week. She had a moment to scan them. The press in Roswell was all over this, the reporter who had made the connection between Hank and Michael was writing about three articles a day. But never any direct accusation. Just speculation. Lots of anonymous sources. And there… a quote from former sheriff, Deputy Jim Valenti. How funny that looked on paper, Deputy Valenti, former sheriff.

“We had every indication that Whitmore was in Las Cruces. There was no reason at the time to investigate further.”

Liz frowned. Hank and Michael’s names were already in this, and now Valenti? How long would it be before they named the rest of them? Only Liz hadn’t been named in the initial press coverage at graduation, still being a legal minor.

Not long. “Kyle Valenti, 18, Deputy Valenti’s son, was also reported missing in May and is believed to be with Guerin and the other missing teenagers.”

Oh, jeez. They were in for it now.

Liz grabbed the last article and hurried across the room to where Max and Isabel were rounding up the others. “Michael, you’re on plate duty,” Max said quietly as Michael, Maria and Kyle stashed the last of their magazines. Michael nodded with calm, and the six turned as one to stride out of the public library.

Liz tripped on Michael and Maria’s heels as they moved through the rotating doors. They had no idea. Michael had no idea. Liz turned to her side, where Max had somehow managed to move through the group and end up beside her. She gave him what she desperately hoped was a reassuring smile, but his expression told her she’d failed. She pursed her lips and turned away from him.

As Kyle unlocked the van, Michael ducked around back. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching – no one was. They’d backed the van up against a wall on purpose, so that nobody would see when he did this. He touched the license plate, concentrated on its structure, reached out into the metal, and summoned up a mental image of a Virginia license plate. He’d taken to watching cars on the highway while they drove, memorizing the details of legal license plates, and had a good twenty-two states committed to memory. He then gave the first combination of letters and numbers that popped into his head, passed his hand over the rest of the plate, checked to make sure it looked okay, and hopped into the van. Damn if he wasn’t getting good at it.

Isabel was driving, with Liz riding shotgun. Maria and Kyle sat in the back, leaving the seat beside Max free in the middle. Michael pulled the door closed behind him, climbed over the box of non-perishables they were living off of this week, and slid into the seat beside Max.

It was then that he noticed how solemn Max looked.

Max always looked solemn, to a certain extent, but Michael knew him well enough to tell when something was really wrong. Which it was now.

“What are you not telling us?” Michael asked immediately.

Max exchanged a glance with Liz in the front seat.

“Michael…” Max started. “First of all, I want you to stay cool. Okay?”

Now Michael glanced back at Maria, whose eyes had gone wide with alarm.

“As a cucumber, Maxwell. What is it?” Michael could hear the boredom in his own voice, though it was more like an attempt to regulate himself. He took Max’s words seriously. He focused on his heartbeat, trying to keep it steady.

“Isabel found something on the internet.”

“Okay…”

Max glanced at the papers Liz had thrust into his hands. He had turned them over. He didn’t want Michael to read it the way that they had, in black and white, on paper.

“It’s about Hank.”

Michael stiffened. He hadn’t heard Max even speak the name in over a year. As far as he was concerned, Hank Whitmore was dead.

“What about him?”

“He’s dead, Michael.”

“What?” Michael felt calm. Unusually calm. In fact, he wasn’t feeling anything. Anything. “What happened?”

“They don’t know. Well, they do. They found his body in the woods. Fused.”

Michael still felt nothing, but realized now it was more of a numbness. He wanted Maria to be sitting here with him, not Max.

“They said he never made it to Las Cruces… he never left Roswell.”

“Nasedo,” Maria said from the back. Michael was relieved, not only to have an excuse to look back and see her face, but also to have an explanation before anybody even had time to jump to a conclusion.

“Probably,” Max agreed, “but the authorities don’t know that.”

“My dad would,” Kyle spoke up. He exchanged a glance with Maria, who nodded.

“Yes, but what can he say about it?” Max asked. “This one’s already going to come down on him. He was sheriff at the time, he was the last one to see Hank Whitmore, and now his son’s run off with the suspected murderer.”

“Now that just doesn’t sound right, ‘run off with’…” Kyle mused, before staring down at his hands, dropping his point.

Suspected… Michael stared at the sheaf of paper in Max’s hands. “Gimme those.”

“I just want to talk to you about this first…”

But Michael had already snatched the first two away to skim them. Max sighed, but did nothing to stop him.

“They think I did it,” Michael said as he turned to the second page. “The police, the press… they’re all over this.”

“Michael, stay calm,” Max said evenly. Michael looked up.

“I’m calm,” he said.

“You’re too calm,” Maria piped up from the backseat. “Breathe, okay?”

Michael turned to glance at her, and read the concern on her face. It was enough to break him out of his deadly calm with a shudder. “Okay,” he agreed.

Chicken teriyaki. Michael had a sudden flash of chicken teriyaki. Hank used to make it every couple of weeks. It was his specialty. He was usually in a good mood when he made it.

“I didn’t,” Michael said aloud. He looked up and turned around to see four faces looking at him expectantly. “I didn’t do anything to him. You guys all have to know that.”

“We know,” Liz said. “Michael, we know.”

“I mean… you can ask Max and Isabel, they were there. They saw it. I threw stuff around, the gun went off, that was it. He was drunk off his ass, but he was in one piece when we left. And then, then he vanished.”

“Nasedo went to your house, then,” Maria said. “While you were… out.” He glanced back at her and saw her eyebrows lift. It was a relief.

“Valenti said something,” Michael said. “There were loud noises. Inhuman. I remember he said they were inhuman.”

He glanced to Max, who was staring him down.

“I just remember him using that word, okay? It’s hard to forget.”

“We have got to get in touch with your dad,” Max said to Kyle.

“I thought you said no contact,” Kyle said. “I mean… don’t get me wrong, I want to talk to my dad, but what’s changed? We’re still fugitives. Big deal. We keep doing what we’ve been doing all along.” Kyle licked his lips and glanced around.

“This is Michael’s name we’re talking about,” Maria reminded them.

“Forget that. I don’t care what people think about my name, I never even use it outside this van anymore,” Michael pointed out. He glanced back at Maria, however, to mouth a silent “Thank you,” to which she nodded.

“This whole story makes it more dangerous for us,” Max said in his authoritative voice, the one that always made people shut up and listen, even if they bitched about it afterwards. “Before, it was just the Special Unit that was onto us. This is everyday stuff. If Michael’s a wanted murderer, police departments everywhere could be looking for him before we know it.”

“This says they just want me for questioning,” Michael protested faintly. He stared down at the stack of articles in his lap.

“Yes, and you’ve vanished without a trace,” Max said. “It doesn’t look good. If they come to want you too badly…”

“…America’s Most Wanted, here we come,” Kyle finished. “Max, I agree with you. For once.” Kyle coughed. “But then how do we contact my dad?”

“I have an idea,” Max said.

“Oh, here we go,” Isabel spoke up from the driver’s seat. “Just so everybody knows, my brother has been working on this plan since we left Roswell. Don’t go thinking that he just came up with it on the spur of the moment.”

“Thank you, Isabel,” Max said, glaring at the front seat. “Hear me out, okay? Here’s what we’re going to do.”

The lights of the highway sped by at a frantic pace, almost as if they embodied the urgency in Liz’s driving.

Maria crouched in the backseat, her knees tucked to her chest, leaning against the window. They’d been passed a few times, but for the most part the few cars they met fell behind them, with the trees and streetlights they’d left behind.

Kyle sat silently listening to his walkman, riding shotgun. Max and Isabel were both sleeping restlessly in the middle, gearing up for their driving stretches.

And Michael sat beside her, leaning away from her against the window, curled underneath his jacket, invisible. Awake? Asleep? There was no way to tell. His breathing was measured, slow, but with Michael that didn’t necessarily answer the question.

They’d all moved around at the last rest stop, three hours before. Around eleven. It was two in the morning now, by Maria’s watch. And their goal was to drive all night. Try and get close to the border before they placed the call.

From far behind them, Maria heard a siren, and she sat up. She noticed Liz’s head perk up, too, in the front. Maria twisted around to stare out the back. The flashing lights grew closer. Closer. Too close.

“Maria…” Liz said quietly from the front.

“I see it. Move, move, get over to the right.”

Liz obeyed, changing lanes, and the police car breezed by them. Both girls instantly drooped their shoulders in relief.

“Are you about to have a heart attack?” Liz asked.

“No. Just had one. You?”

“Yeah, same.”

Maria breathed another sigh of relief and shifted position. She scooted her legs down to the floor, propping them between Michael’s legs. One of his legs flicked back a little when she brushed up against it, and after a moment he readjusted to lock her into place.

She leaned over on top of his jacket. “Knew you weren’t sleeping, spaceboy,” she whispered where his ear should be.

Michael grunted beneath her, and twisted away, showing her more of his back.

Maria sat back up. This wasn’t like him.

Well, it was. But not lately.

She bent down to the jacket and, rather than pick it up, crept underneath herself, until her face was above his, both of them still hidden from view.

She found herself face to face with him. At first he seemed annoyed with a little grunt, but after a moment he relaxed and brushed his lips against hers gently.

There was a salty taste to his mouth, and in the dim light she looked up at his eyes. They were red. Wet.

Maria leaned down again, pressing her lips against his. He returned the kiss briefly, then pulled away, such that he could.

She stared back at him, surprised that he would turn her away like this, and then softened when she had a moment to read his whole expression.

She leaned down, tucking her head underneath his chin, and settled down comfortably. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and clung to her, tightly.

His arms felt good around her. Comforting. Not that she was the one needing comfort now, but she could tell that just by being here, in his private space with him, she was a comfort to him.

Maria knew things about Michael he had never said, that he never could say. She knew, from her flashes, just what it was like to grow up without a family. He had never known affection. A hug, a kiss, a pat on the back… he never had it growing up. Every once in awhile he’d get a spontaneous hug from Max or Isabel, but there was always a timid feel to it. As if they were afraid to set him over the edge. Which was a valid fear; Michael was overwhelmed by Maria sometimes. Not that it stopped him wanting to get more. Now that she understood him more, she saw why he had been so hungry for her back when they first hooked up. He didn’t know what it was like to feel affection, and once he got it, it was like a drug.

Now, though, his mindset was far, far away from her, and she recognized that. Michael had been uncomfortably yanked back to a time in his life he continuously tried to pretend didn’t exist. He rarely said a word about Hank Whitmore to Maria, but she could feel Hank’s presence constantly. Particularly when Michael allowed her the rare flash, she saw Hank far more often than she let Michael know. And from knowing Hank through the flashes, she saw him in Michael constantly. No matter how much Michael tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, that he was capable of conquering his childhood just like everything else, Maria saw more than anyone just how much of a lie it was.

But she had never seen him like this.

Grieving.

She pulled her hand around and lifted it up to Michael’s face. He hadn’t shaved in four days now, and was starting to grow stubble. Maria liked it, it made him look dangerous. Not that Michael needed stubble for that effect.

She brought her hand back down, tucking it near her chin. Beneath his jacket, the air was stuffy and warm, but somehow cozy. Their breath, in rhythm together, echoed through the silent, stuffy space that defined their world for the moment.

“You know it’s okay,” she whispered to him, as softly as she could. “I’m here, Michael. I love you.”

“Thanks,” he whispered back, barely audible.

“I know you’re upset,” she whispered, searching for words. “Michael… I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore.”

“I know,” he whispered back. “And thank you.” There was a pause. “I don’t know what I’d…”

His voice trailed off, and they returned to silence.

She shifted her weight around, as his elbow was digging into her side. He pulled it back to allow her more comfort.

Their breathing fell into an identical rhythm, rising and falling together. In the darkness, with the world rushing by silently around them, Michael and Maria fell asleep in perfect harmony.

He’d been in this corridor many times before.

It was like the halls of West Roswell High, only darker. Michael was never one to hang around school after dark, except for the many times he was hiding in the corridors, running for his life…

Like now…

He could hear the footsteps. He didn’t know who was after him, but he knew they were dangerous. They wanted to kill the aliens. They were scared of him, but he was terrified of them.

He looked around for Max, it seemed like Max should be running too, but he was missing. Maybe they already captured him.

“Max?” Michael screamed. “Max!”

It was then he remembered that Max had gone home. Only Michael had detention. Detention for what? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter now. Max was the good one, Max wasn’t in trouble, Max was safe at home with Isabel and his parents. Dammit.

Michael was the one hiding, alone.

His chest heaved. His mouth was dry.

Maybe Maria would help him. She had detention too. Maybe they’d been caught making out in the eraser room, which was ridiculous, because he always locked the door. Really locked it, with his powers. He wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t find her now. He wanted to shout, but suddenly he realized that if he shouted again, they’d catch him.

His only recourse was to make a run for it. He spotted the nearest exit, popped out from his hiding place, and dashed for the door, running as hard as he could, his arms and legs pumping.

There was a house beside the school. He knew that house. A woman lived there, an older woman, a dignitary of some sort. She was calling to him, she told him to run as fast as he could. He started to run towards the house, the gleaming gold house in the distance, and it was then that a rough, cold hand grabbed his arm.

Michael whirled around. “No,” he whispered. “No, you’re dead.” He twisted around, trying to free himself. He felt the blood draining from his body, as if it was being absorbed into the cold hand.

“I’m not dead,” Hank said, leering over him, tall and dangerous, “I went to Las Cruces.”

“No. No, you didn’t.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Somebody help me!” Michael screamed.

“Nobody’s gonna help you. They all went home.” Hank pulled Michael in closer, as he struggled to get away. “Time to go home, Mickey.”

“No,” Michael whimpered. “I live in that house there…” He glanced to the gold house, and he could see the woman inside shutting the door. She didn’t know he was here. She couldn’t see him through the darkness. Her house was too bright. He glanced back toward the school, which had turned back into the elementary school. Dark.

Without another word, Hank grabbed Michael’s ear, and dragged him towards the truck.

“Let’s go get started on the experiments,” Hank said as he started up the truck.

As the truck pulled away, past the elementary school, Michael turned to look at the gold house. The woman inside had a baby in her arms, and she stared out at the truck as it drove off.

“Mama…” Michael whispered.

“Your parents left you in the desert,” Hank sneered.

“They’re coming back for me,” Michael said softly. He scrunched down in the seat and stared out at the passing streetlights. He pulled his legs closer to him; they were hanging off the seat. He couldn’t reach the floorboard. He was so small.

So small.

“Just you wait till we get home, boy.”

Maybe if he jumped out, he could run for the gold house. But didn’t he need a spaceship to get there? He couldn’t get a spaceship if Hank was right there, he couldn’t let Hank know the truth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly. He glanced to his side, to Hank bearing down on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” But he knew that Hank wouldn’t believe him. He never did.

Before he knew it, they were pulling into the trailer park. The truck came to a screeching halt, and Hank jumped out, made his way around to Michael’s side, and dragged Michael out.

Michael fought to get away, but he couldn’t. No matter how much he scratched, flailed, kicked and bit, Hank was pulling him into the trailer.

“I don’t live here anymore!” Michael screamed. He felt his teeth connect with Hank’s arm, he could taste the salty blood.

“You always live here,” Hank insisted calmly. “Time to come home, Mickey.”

“No!”

Hank flung him into the trailer, the white vastness of the trailer. Of the white room. “Ready to begin the experiments?” He came toward Michael, in his gleaming dark suit. “The subject is here.”

“No!” Michael was shaking, grasping, grasping hard to the thing in his arms… the pillow… the… Maria.

He was sweating in the back of the van, as he slowly regained consciousness. Maria pulled away from him.

“Just a dream,” she whispered. “Wake up. It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed. “Just a dream.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It was just… just a dream.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” he said immediately.

In the silence in the back of the van, Michael lay awake with Maria asleep in his arms for hours, as he envisioned the gold house on the hill. His mother. The woman who bore him in his previous life on Antar. He knew it was her. A memory he’d been searching for all his life. He could finally see her. And it was enough. For now.

He’d been in this corridor many times before.

It was like the halls of West Roswell High, only darker. Michael was never one to hang around school after dark, except for the many times he was hiding in the corridors, running for his life…

Like now…

He could hear the footsteps. He didn’t know who was after him, but he knew they were dangerous. They wanted to kill the aliens. They were scared of him, but he was terrified of them.

He looked around for Max, it seemed like Max should be running too, but he was missing. Maybe they already captured him.

“Max?” Michael screamed. “Max!”

It was then he remembered that Max had gone home. Only Michael had detention. Detention for what? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter now. Max was the good one, Max wasn’t in trouble, Max was safe at home with Isabel and his parents. Dammit.

Michael was the one hiding, alone.

His chest heaved. His mouth was dry.

Maybe Maria would help him. She had detention too. Maybe they’d been caught making out in the eraser room, which was ridiculous, because he always locked the door. Really locked it, with his powers. He wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t find her now. He wanted to shout, but suddenly he realized that if he shouted again, they’d catch him.

His only recourse was to make a run for it. He spotted the nearest exit, popped out from his hiding place, and dashed for the door, running as hard as he could, his arms and legs pumping.

There was a house beside the school. He knew that house. A woman lived there, an older woman, a dignitary of some sort. She was calling to him, she told him to run as fast as he could. He started to run towards the house, the gleaming gold house in the distance, and it was then that a rough, cold hand grabbed his arm.

Michael whirled around. “No,” he whispered. “No, you’re dead.” He twisted around, trying to free himself. He felt the blood draining from his body, as if it was being absorbed into the cold hand.

“I’m not dead,” Hank said, leering over him, tall and dangerous, “I went to Las Cruces.”

“No. No, you didn’t.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Somebody help me!” Michael screamed.

“Nobody’s gonna help you. They all went home.” Hank pulled Michael in closer, as he struggled to get away. “Time to go home, Mickey.”

“No,” Michael whimpered. “I live in that house there…” He glanced to the gold house, and he could see the woman inside shutting the door. She didn’t know he was here. She couldn’t see him through the darkness. Her house was too bright. He glanced back toward the school, which had turned back into the elementary school. Dark.

Without another word, Hank grabbed Michael’s ear, and dragged him towards the truck.

“Let’s go get started on the experiments,” Hank said as he started up the truck.

As the truck pulled away, past the elementary school, Michael turned to look at the gold house. The woman inside had a baby in her arms, and she stared out at the truck as it drove off.

“Mama…” Michael whispered.

“Your parents left you in the desert,” Hank sneered.

“They’re coming back for me,” Michael said softly. He scrunched down in the seat and stared out at the passing streetlights. He pulled his legs closer to him; they were hanging off the seat. He couldn’t reach the floorboard. He was so small.

So small.

“Just you wait till we get home, boy.”

Maybe if he jumped out, he could run for the gold house. But didn’t he need a spaceship to get there? He couldn’t get a spaceship if Hank was right there, he couldn’t let Hank know the truth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly. He glanced to his side, to Hank bearing down on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” But he knew that Hank wouldn’t believe him. He never did.

Before he knew it, they were pulling into the trailer park. The truck came to a screeching halt, and Hank jumped out, made his way around to Michael’s side, and dragged Michael out.

Michael fought to get away, but he couldn’t. No matter how much he scratched, flailed, kicked and bit, Hank was pulling him into the trailer.

“I don’t live here anymore!” Michael screamed. He felt his teeth connect with Hank’s arm, he could taste the salty blood.

“You always live here,” Hank insisted calmly. “Time to come home, Mickey.”

“No!”

Hank flung him into the trailer, the white vastness of the trailer. Of the white room. “Ready to begin the experiments?” He came toward Michael, in his gleaming dark suit. “The subject is here.”

“No!” Michael was shaking, grasping, grasping hard to the thing in his arms… the pillow… the… Maria.

He was sweating in the back of the van, as he slowly regained consciousness. Maria pulled away from him.

“Just a dream,” she whispered. “Wake up. It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed. “Just a dream.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It was just… just a dream.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” he said immediately.

In the silence in the back of the van, Michael lay awake with Maria asleep in his arms for hours, as he envisioned the gold house on the hill. His mother. The woman who bore him in his previous life on Antar. He knew it was her. A memory he’d been searching for all his life. He could finally see her. And it was enough. For now.

“You look… ravishing.” Jim smiled at the figure standing in his doorway.

“Oh, stop. You’ve seen this dress before,” she said, blushing.

“Not like that,” he said, watching intently as she swayed from side to side, showing off the curves. “Magnificent. Come on in, Amy.”

“Now look at this place,” she said, surveying the house. “Somebody did their spring cleaning. And it’s about time, with summer halfway over.”

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, ignoring the last comment. “I have sauvignon blanc, or chardonnay.”

“Ooh, classy,” she said. “This is a step up from the usual Heineken.”

“I have that, too.”

“Well, I’ll just have a Heinie, then.”

“Okay, then,” Jim said, grinning, and strode into the kitchen. “Two Heinekens, coming up. Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes, how does that sound?”

“Delicious.”

“Good.”

As he opened the refrigerator to obtain the Heinekens, the phone started to ring. “Sorry! Meant to turn that darn ringer off,” he shouted.

“Hi, this is the Valentis. We’re not here…”

“You left Kyle’s voice on there,” Amy said quietly from behind him.

Jim shrugged and turned around to hand her a beer. “Just haven’t gotten around to changing the message,” he said. At least that’s what he tried to tell himself, every time he stopped himself from changing the message.

“I’m sure it’s nice to hear his voice every time somebody calls you,” she said, wistful. She took a slow sip of her beer, staring down at the floor.

“Yes,” he agreed. The machine shut off. No message. “I guess.”

“I go into Maria’s room all the time,” Amy said quietly. “Just sit there and look at her stuff. I know parents whose kids have died – well, you know the Whitmans, too – they can’t go in Alex’s room. It’s frozen in time. But Maria’s still out there, and I know that. And being around her belongings makes me feel like she’s coming back. Like she wouldn’t have left all this stuff here, if…” She gestured.

“I know,” Jim said. He found himself mesmerized by her dark eyes…

“I know you do,” Amy agreed.

The phone rang again.

“Maybe you ought to turn that thing off,” Amy suggested, leaning closer to him.

Jim frowned and moved toward the telephone. It rang a second time. The machine would pick it up on the fifth ring. But somebody didn’t want to leave a message…?

A third ring. “Hold on, Amy,” Jim said, and grabbed the phone before the fourth.

“Hello?”

“Is this line secure?”

Jim caught his breath at the voice. “As far as I know.”

“Are you alone?”

“No… I have company. Hold on.” Jim turned to Amy apologetically. “Amy, I have to take this call.” Her face fell.

“Is that who I think it is?” Max Evans asked.

“Hold on,” Jim said to Max. “Take out the dish when the timer goes off, and I’ll just be a few minutes, okay, hon?” he asked to Amy, who nodded in apparent confusion.

He walked back down the hallway, into Kyle’s unchanged bedroom, and closed the door.

“Where the hell are you?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Can’t tell you.”

“Are you on a secure line?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you more than that, either, but we’re fine.”

Jim sighed as he sat back on Kyle’s bed. “Then what are you calling for? I thought we agreed you had vanished.”

“We heard about what they found.”

“Oh,” Jim said, his eyes settling on the Buddha still perched on Kyle’s dresser. “That. What did you hear exactly?”

“We heard our friend’s name attached to it. We heard your name attached to it.”

“Good,” he said. “And know that some people around here desperately want to talk to your friend. His name’s popping up on some lists that aren’t connected to the lists you’re already on. Look, if it’s at all possible, you kids have to keep an even lower profile than before. Okay?”

“We just thought we should check in.” Jim noted his continual use of the third-person. Max had said he was stepping down as leader, but that was a near impossibility. Max still believed and acted as if he was the sole voice of the group. Good old Max.

“I’m glad you did. How is our mutual friend handling things?”

“Fine, I guess. Can we help you at all? We need you to quiet things down for us. It’s too much talk. Too much publicity.”

“Look, is he there?”

“Who? Mi… yes. Yes, he is.” Jim saw the catch in Max’s voice. He was trying so hard not to say any names over the phone.

“If I can just get some set answers, I’ll see what I can do, okay, son? Let me talk to him. I still don’t even know what I’m covering for.”

He heard a scuffling sound, and could hear conversation in the background. Liz and Isabel were talking about something. Light tones. They were cheerful. And then Michael came on the line.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Michael said. “What do you need to know?”

Jim’s eyes trailed over the trophies that lined Kyle’s walls. “You were never straight with me about what happened that night.”

“With all due respect, you were dogging my ass at the time.”

Jim had to laugh, though it was somewhat forced. He lowered his voice. “What am I covering for here exactly?”

“I actually was kinda straight with you. More or less. I was over at the Evans’ house…”

“No names!” Jim heard Max hiss from somewhere farther away.

“Sorry. Sorry. Anyway, I was over at their house, cause he and I had been having some problems. Uh, then I went back home, I guess, and he and I got into a fight again. They came over in the middle of it, just to check on me, and he was really drunk. He had a gun, he was gonna shoot at us, and I made the gun fire. You know. Blasted him. But not him, I didn’t blast him, I blasted the gun.”

“So the gunshots the neighbors heard, that was you.”

“Yeah. It just shot off in the kitchen, though. He, uh…” Michael paused. “I remember, he started yelling all this stuff, about how he knew I had powers, and then we ran off. I ended up at somebody else’s house, you know that, and I stayed there the rest of the night. That was it. I mean it. The only thing I did was blast the gun. And maybe throw a few things around. But I didn’t hurt him, I swear to you I didn’t. He was fine when we left, just really drunk.”

“And I believe you. You got any theories on this, then?”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “I think a certain shapeshifter killed him that night, and buried him then.”

“But I saw him after that,” Jim pointed out.

“No, you didn’t,” Michael corrected.

“True,” Jim agreed. “Showing up in my office to cover his tracks and make sure nobody ever looked for him ever again. It would fit his MO. He was covering for you kids.”

“And doing a shitty job of it. Go figure. So can you cover for us?”

“Well, the sheriff’s department has a whole file on him, some of it destroyed by yours truly – don’t tell my superiors that…”

“Not a problem.”

“But they already connected him to those other murders. It’s just a question of getting your name out of it.” If he even could. Just as Jim himself had once connected Max Evans to the Nasedo files, now his coworkers were starting to make the same connections with one Michael Guerin. And he knew just how far he had gotten with his hunch about Max, however wrong it had been. His fundamental hunch had been dead-on.

“Do it. Fast. I don’t like this.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Lay low, they want you real bad right now. It helps that you cleared up the facts, okay? Thank you for calling.”

“Thank you for fixing this.”

“Don’t thank me too prematurely.” Jim hesitated. “Is… can I talk to…”

There was a pause. He could hear Michael whispering. “We have twelve more minutes on this phone,” Jim heard Max say in the background.

“Yeah, hold on,” Michael said.

Jim waited a moment. In the silence, he could hear the sound of traffic. They were on the road. He heard a CD playing. The Cranberries. He could hear, faintly, Liz and Isabel’s voices, still engaged in conversation. And then he heard the voice from his answering machine. “Dad?”

Jim leaned back on the bed, more because he felt himself melting than because he was tired. “Kyle…” No names, he reminded himself. No names.

“How are you, Dad? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, son… What have you been up to?”

“Just the usual,” Kyle said weakly. “Running from the law, saving lives, changing identities. You know.”

“The usual,” Jim said, cracking a smile. “You’re healthy? Everyone’s healthy?”

“We’re fine. No illness. No injury. I’m eating my veggies. Don’t worry about me.”

“Why, should I be worried?”

“I’m fine, Dad.” He heard the plaintiveness in Kyle’s tone.

Good old Kyle… Same old Kyle…

“You get any of that, uh, stuff yet?” Jim asked carefully.

“Naw. I’m still waiting. Could be a while yet. How about you?”

“Nothing here.” He paused, and lowered his voice even further. He didn’t want any chance of his words carrying past the door. “There’s something you should know, son… I’m fixing to propose to someone soon. Tonight.”

There was dead silence for a moment on the other end of the line. Then Kyle cleared his throat. “Would this be anyone I know?”

“Amy.”

Again, silence for a moment. “You’re dating her again?”

“Yeah, it pretty much started right after you left town. She’s been pretty shaken up by the whole thing. As you could imagine. How’s her girl?”

“Pretty happy, misses her mom, though. You can tell her that.” Kyle paused. “No. You can’t.”

“She’s all alone now, you know that.”

“How soon do you think you’ll…”

“Why, you think you can come back for it?”

“Dad,” Kyle said in a low tone, “we can’t come back. They’re still looking for these guys, and I’m with them now.” Kyle cleared his throat. “I just want to know when I have to start treating her like a sister.”

“Like a what?” Jim could hear a squeal in the background.

“You can start now. You will take care of Maria.”

“Hush,” Kyle hissed to Maria. “I am, Dad, I am.”

“Hopefully by the end of the year. I don’t know, I haven’t even…”

The doorknob turned, and Jim jumped. Amy stood in the doorway, glaring at him.

“You said Maria’s name,” she said.

Jim licked his lips. “Amy, just give me a minute, okay?”

“Who is that on the phone?” she demanded.

“It’s work, hon.”

“You said Maria’s name. I heard it.”

“No, that’s not what you heard.” Maybe, just maybe he could talk himself out of this one… dammit.

“It is. I know you said Maria’s name. Who are you talking to?” Her jaw set, Amy approached him and reached for the phone.

He yanked it away. “Amy, wait for me in the kitchen.”

“Who is this?” Amy had already grabbed the phone and was holding it to her ear.

“Deputy Lazano…” the voice said on the other end, trying to drop into a deeper timbre than it was capable of.

Amy’s jaw dropped. “You’re no deputy,” she said into the phone. “Kyle Valenti. Where are you?”

“I need to speak to Deputy Valenti,” Kyle said, trying again. “This is departmental business.”

“Oh, no way, ‘Deputy Lazano’. I want to speak to my daughter right now.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know what you’re… oh, hell.” Kyle put the phone to his chest and tried to ignore the glare Max was giving him. “Hey… just take this call.”

Jim watched as Amy paced the room, one hand on the phone, the other on her hip.

“Hello?” Maria asked.

“Maria!”

“Mom!”

In the van, Maria glanced anxiously first at Michael, and then at Max, who was now glowering at her. Max leaned over to whisper something to Michael, who shook his head and put his hand up to silence Max.

“Where the hell are you?”

“I can’t tell you that, Mom. Don’t say my name, uh, we’re not a hundred percent sure it’s safe.”

“Do you know what I have been going through here?”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Not knowing where you are, what you’re doing… and to find out that Michael, and Max are the…”

Maria closed her eyes. “Shut up! We don’t know that it’s secure. No names, no identifiers.”

“I’ll shut up when I feel like it. How could you not tell me about Michael? How long have you known?”

“Um, I’ve known since the shooting. You remember. Before he and I were dating, I knew what he was when we started dating.”

Max leaned over and grabbed Maria’s arm. “No names!” he hissed. She shook him off, and Michael continued to quietly appease him.

“So all those times you vanished with him to god-knows-where, you knew what he was?”

“Most of the times we vanished, it was to save the planet, Mom.”

“All those road trips? Vegas? Tell me you weren’t actually doing under-aged gambling.”

“No, Vegas really was just a road trip. I didn’t gamble, though, I told you the truth about that.”

“And Michael?”

“Well, yeah, he gambled. But he was emancipated.”

“I don’t care about that. How is he? Did you hear about…”

Maria smiled wryly. “Yeah, we heard. He’s fine. We’re, we’re together again.” She glanced up. Michael quickly looked away. He didn’t want to be the subject of conversation.

“Good,” Amy said. “Tell him to take care of you.”

“He is.” As well as he ever could.

“You never told me what he was...” She trailed off.

“We couldn’t! Look how you’re overreacting. Mom, I need to go.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Amy snapped.

“This phone call is almost up.”

“Are you living somewhere? Moving?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Are you safe?” Amy begged, her voice cracking.

“We’re all safe as long as nobody finds us. We’re safe as long as you don’t know where we are.”

“God, Maria, I miss you so much,” Amy said, and back in the Valenti house Jim reached up to catch her arm as she passed him. He pulled her down on top of Kyle’s bed, and put his arm over her shoulders.

In the van, Maria fought to keep her composure. “I miss you too…” She was losing the battle.

“Are you ever going to come home?”

“I don’t know,” Maria said, and found herself fighting back tears. It was the one question she didn’t even ask herself.

“I love you.”

“I love you too… Goodbye.” Maria flicked the phone off.

Michael, sitting beside her, uncomfortably put his hand on her arm. She shook him off and raised her eyes to meet Max’s steely glare.

“Why can’t I tell her where we are?” Maria demanded. “She’s so scared.”

“It’s a risk we can’t take,” Max said.

“He’s right,” Michael admitted. “We have to play it safe, Maria. It’s not worth getting the Special Unit back on our tail.”

“So? They probably tracked that call anyway.”

“And it’ll take them some time to figure it out,” Max pointed out. “By the time they connect with the authorities, we’ll be across the border. Gimme the phone.”

Maria reluctantly handed it over. She folded her arms against her chest, still giving Max the look of death.

“Next gas station, Isabel,” Max ordered. “We gotta get rid of this thing.”

“We’re stopping anyway, we need gas,” Isabel said icily.

Behind her, Max pulled up his hands in a sacrificial position. Maria exchanged a smirk with Michael, quietly amused, before turning to Kyle.

“What exactly did your dad say?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” Kyle said, scrunching down in his seat. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Something about Maria being your sister?” Michael offered helpfully.

Kyle glared at him. “Nothing!”

Michael held up his hand, aiming his palm dangerously at Kyle.

“Whoa!” Kyle shouted, straightening up and raising his hands in self-defense. “Slow down there, boy! No alien powers! I can’t defend myself yet.”

Michael pulled his hand back down. “Kidding.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Kyle said. “I give up. My dad,” he sighed, “is dating her mom again.” He pointed at Maria.

*~*~*

“Roger that. We’re sending the description out now. We have a few guys in the area, shouldn’t take too long.”


“No way,” Maria said.

“Well, how else do you explain her presence at our house on a Saturday night?”

“Dropping off alien keyrings?” Michael suggested.

Maria and Kyle both ignored him this time. “What else did he say?” Maria pressed. “Tell me, or I’ll make Michael blast you, for real this time.”

“I’ll do it, too,” Michael agreed, wiggling his fingers to emphasize his palm.

“Really not funny now,” Max whispered to him, out of earshot of the others. “Stop it.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Stupid alien powers,” he said. “He-“

“What did you say?” Isabel asked from the front seat. “Need I remind you who, or rather what is driving this car?”

“I love aliens!” Kyle proclaimed loudly. “Aliens are my friends. Look,” he said, more serious, “he told me this in confidence, so if by any chance you talk to your mom again…”

“…Which she won’t,” Max interjected.

“…You can’t say a thing,” Kyle continued, ignoring Max.

“What?” Maria asked, feeling a wave of trepidation. “What is it?” She was already afraid that she knew the answer. In fact, she was certain that she did.

“My dad,” Kyle said, and then stopped. “I can’t say it.”

“What?” Maria demanded. “Say it.”

“He… I can’t get it out.”

“Can I say it?” Isabel asked from the front seat. “His dad’s planning to propose to your mom.”

“What?” Kyle asked. “How did you…”

“You’re obvious, Valenti. And I’ve been there.” With a self-satisfied smile, Isabel checked the rearview mirror to change lanes onto the exit ramp.

“Oh, no,” Maria groaned.

“Tell me about it,” Kyle agreed.

“We’ve been afraid of this for years,” Maria said.

“I mean, who’d ever think my dad… and your mom…” Kyle shook his head. “It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“I was so scared in high school, I used to have nightmares about your and your dad moving in with us,” Maria said.

“What do you mean?” Kyle asked. “You’d have moved in with us.”

“But we have the extra bedroom,” Maria shot back. “Where was I supposed to sleep, in the bathtub?”

“Good thing they waited until you guys took off to go through with it,” Liz remarked as the van turned into the gas station.

“Who said they’re going through with it?” Maria asked. “Apparently my mother doesn’t know about this yet.”

“Of course she’s gonna say yes,” Kyle said.

“I don’t know,” Maria said. “After my father left, she swore off commitment.”

”But she’ll commit to my dad ,” Kyle said.

Maria merely cast her eyes up to the ceiling of the van, as it rolled up to a pump. “Sure she will.” As Isabel turned off the engine, Maria hopped out of the van, her long skirt flapping behind her.

“What do you mean by that?” Kyle yelled, leaping out after her. Isabel climbed out for the gas pump.

Michael and Max exchanged a glance, then looked to Liz in the front seat. “I’ll referee,” Liz volunteered, jumping out after Kyle and Maria.

Max turned to look at Michael.

“So, guess this means I’m not proposing to Maria anytime soon,” Michael said.

“Why, marriage a touchy subject now?” Max asked. He began wiping the cell phone with his shirt fabric, attempting to rid it of any telltale fingerprints.

“No, cause I’m not doing anything to make Kyle Valenti my brother-in-law.” Michael shrugged and scratched his eyebrow.

Max snorted. “Michael…”

“But seriously.”

“Right. Seriously. I don’t think Valenti’s going to be able to do much about this.”

Michael sighed. “I gotta say, for once I agree with you, Maxwell. It’s out of his hands.”

“I guess this calls for you laying extra low for now. Maybe we can try changing your appearance some.” Max shoved the phone into the Wal-Mart bag it came in, and crumpled the bag in his lap.

“What it needs is somebody to go in there and change the facts.”

Max’s brow lowered. “No. Michael, no.”

“We change our appearances, go back to Roswell, duck into the sheriff’s office, and fix the evidence. Change it. Destroy it.”

“And give them a bright neon sign that we’re in the area.”

“Then we take off.”

“It’ll never work,” Max said. “They’ll remember what they saw. It’s not like you can destroy your social services file and nobody will remember you. You’ve drawn attention.”

“You and me, Maxwell. The others can stay up here, in case something happens, and we’ll be in and out in no time. They don’t even have to know where we are. We could make it look like the department misplaced the files or something. Valenti’ll tell us what we need to destroy.”

“You’re insane. We’re not leaving anybody anywhere. And we’re not going anywhere near Roswell.”

“Or we could change the facts, make it look like they misread the data.”

“Are you listening to me?” Max shook his head. “Hold on, I gotta ditch this.” He started for the door, but Michael grabbed his arm.

“I didn’t kill him, Maxwell.”

“I know you didn’t,” Max said calmly.

“Tell me. Say it and look me in the eyes.”

Max looked up at him. “I know you didn’t kill Hank.” His eyes cast down to his lap on the last word.

Michael leaned back, his mouth hanging open.

“You don’t believe that,” he said slowly. “You think I did it. You think I’d lie about that?”

“I don’t! I mean, I know what he was like, but I know what you’re like, too... You couldn’t have.” Now Max was careful to keep his eyes trained on Michael’s face.

No, Maxwell, Michael thought to himself, you really don’t know what he was like at all. Or me, for that matter, if you’re really so sure I couldn’t have… He pushed the thought away. “If you’re so sure I didn’t do it, then help me go mess with the evidence to prove it.”

“No, messing with the evidence makes you look guilty, Michael,” Max said seriously. “Do you even realize what you’re saying? Get a grip. I don’t think you did it. Now let me go get rid of the phone.”

“Not here, doofus. Isabel’s using the credit card to buy the gas and food.” Isabel had access to a card under an account name that went to a friend of Jesse’s in Boston. It was hopefully impossible to track, and had come in handy more often than not.

Max sighed, not wanting to admit defeat to Michael. “How would we get to Roswell without the others?”

“Public transportation. Take the bus.”

“And if we get into trouble? How do we get out of town?”

“It’s not like we don’t have friends in Roswell.”

Max shook his head. “We can’t put them at risk. We shouldn’t have even contacted them.”

Michael glanced out the window in time to see Maria inside the gas station whacking Kyle with her purse, while he cringed in mock protest and Liz doubled over in laughter at something. “Hmm.”

“You said it yourself, Michael. We’re already fugitives, and Valenti said the department is pretty sure Nasedo did it. You never use your name anymore. Why do you have to take care of this?”

Because I don’t want them to think I’m Nasedo the way Valenti thought you were? Because all of Roswell… Michael leaned back. “Forget it.”

“I’m sorry, Michael.” He looked sincere. Maybe he really was.

Michael suddenly sat up. “I want a Snickers,” he said, vaguely offering an explanation before jumping out of the van himself. He crossed the parking lot, careful to avoid the muddy puddles on the way. He noticed a patrol car sitting discreetly to the side of the station. His heart skipped a beat. They couldn’t have tracked them so soon… no, he reminded himself, they couldn’t. There was no way anyone could have tracked them so soon. No way.

He walked into the bright flourescence of the gas station. He could see the short heads of Kyle, Maria and Liz sticking up on the other side of the snack aisle. The store was practically empty. Good for not being sighted, not good for not drawing attention.

He leaned over to study the snack selection. He didn’t really want a candy bar, he was hungrier than that. Maybe some Combos. Or beef jerky. Something with some force and fat behind it.

“What’d you and Max talk about?” His head shot up to see Maria standing quietly beside him.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Come on. I could see you two yelling in there.”

Michael stared at her. If she could, the patrol car could. He hadn’t even thought about it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said to Maria. “So, uh, how’s your mom?”

Maria snorted. “Losing her mind, apparently. She asked about you, though.”

“Yeah? In a good way?”

“Yeah. In a good way.”

Michael lowered his voice as far as it went, leaning over so that he could speak into Maria’s ear. “She didn’t… ask about all the stuff in the paper, did she?”

Maria shook her head. “But we didn’t really have time.”

“Sorry…” Michael said. “Look. You know we have to be careful.”

“Yeah, I know,” Maria said.

“I guess she’ll be fine with Valenti there to take care of her, huh?” He straightened back up.

“My mom’s taken care of herself for years,” Maria said. She folded her arms against her chest.

“I know, I know,” Michael said quickly. “But she won’t be alone, right?”

Maria stared at him. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s my fault.”

“Huh?” He wasn’t following.

“If I was there, she wouldn’t even be considering this. Mom doesn’t do relationships well. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“But if it’s going to happen with anybody, at least it’s with Valenti, right? He’s a good guy, Maria.”

“I know,” Maria said. “But they’re complete opposites. It won’t work, and she’s going to be left lonely and miserable again.”

“You don’t know that.” Michael followed her gaze to Kyle, who was poring over the beverage selection with Liz.

“I know my mother,” Maria said. She turned around, grabbed a bag of cheese curls, and stormed towards the cash register where Isabel was gathering the group’s supplies.

Michael sighed and picked up a bag of pretzels before wandering over to join Kyle and Liz by the drink display. Which also happened to be in spying distance of the patrol car.

“So what are you guys getting?” Michael asked as he approached.

“Oh, um, I was gonna get a 7-Up,” Liz said immediately, in that assuredly fake tone that Michael knew meant they’d been talking about something else. Liz was a horrible liar. “Is Maria okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, I think talking to her mom was a little much for her,” Michael said.

Liz sighed. “I’ll go talk to her,” she said, grabbing for an apple juice.

Kyle turned to Michael as Liz scampered after Maria. “You see that car out there too?” he asked quietly.

“I did,” Michael said. “They couldn’t have tracked us this soon, could they?”

“I don’t see how they could,” Kyle said. He gave a weak smile. “I guess we’re just jumpy.”

“You say anything to Liz?”

Kyle shook his head. “Naw, I didn’t want to alarm her. Maybe we should ask Max what to do.”

“Right,” Michael said. “He’ll tell us to lay low and run. We’re already doing that.” Michael tossed his pretzels at Kyle. “Get me a twenty ounce coke. I’ll see you back at the car.”

“Hold on,” Kyle said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go see if they’re watching us or not.”

“By yourself?”

“More inconspicuous that way.” Michael started for the door. Behind him, he heard Kyle take a breath as though he was going to protest, but he stopped. There was no use arguing with Michael in one of these moods. And Michael himself knew it, and was proud of it.

He stopped as though he was checking out the price of ice in the machine in front of the store. And glanced to his left. He could see the shadows of about three men in the car. He noticed an air pump. Hey, maybe they could use a little air in the van’s tires. Kyle said it was fine, but Michael wasn’t a hundred percent sure he wanted his safety riding on Kyle Valenti’s assurances. Not that it had been a problem yet, but hey. He wandered over to the air pump, and on his way, saw that one of the guys in the car was on the radio.

And another was turning to look right at him . Their eyes locked, and Michael saw exactly what was going on.

Oh, boy. These guys weren’t even subtle.

Michael changed his mind halfway to the air pump, and set off at a brisk pace for the store. He barged through the doors, where Isabel was buying food with her credit card. Kyle, Maria and Liz were helping to gather the bounty into bags.

“Let’s go,” Michael said.

“We’re going, Michael, hold on,” Isabel said impatiently.

“Now,” Michael said. He looked out to the patrol car again, and saw two of the men getting out. Including the one who had been staring at him.

Kyle got it, and grabbed the food, bustling Maria and Liz toward the door. Isabel, still confused, was bending over to sign the credit card receipt as Michael took off behind Maria and Liz.

“Isabel, go!” Michael said. He stopped halfway through the door and turned around as Isabel handed her receipt to the confused clerk.

“What’s the rush?” Isabel asked, but one look at his concerned face finally clued her in, and she hurried to catch up. The two walked briskly into the parking lot, towards the van, but not before the two men called out to them.

“Hold on! You there!”

Michael glanced to Isabel, who shook her head worriedly.

The door to the van was hanging open, waiting for them. Max leaned out, holding the door open, looking behind them with concern.

Michael reached the van.

“Act normal,” Max hissed to Michael.

“Shut up! Let’s go!”

“Talk to them. Don’t attract attention, remember?”

With a worried glance to Isabel, Michael turned around and strode back to the two patrolmen, who were approaching him looking rather official. Not reassuring.

“Sorry, guys, didn’t realize you were talking to me,” he said, trying to play innocent.

“Is that your car there?” the blond one asked.

Michael glanced back at the van. He wanted to say it belonged to his friend, but who would be better than him to pose as the owner? He might as well fend this one off. “Yeah, yeah, it’s mine.”

“Virginia, huh? Long drive to Oklahoma.”

“Road trip.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the others. “Summer vacation. You know.”

“Do you mind if we take a look at your driver’s license?” the blond one asked.

Michael hoped that his exterior didn’t reveal the jolt of fear he felt at that. This wasn’t going well. “Sure, sure,” he said. “It’s in the car.”

The men followed him to the van, where Michael climbed through the door that Max was still holding. “What’s going on?” Max hissed.

“They want to see my ID,” Michael said. His wallet was in his pocket, and he bent down into the back as if he was digging for it. “They were staring at me. I think they’re suspicious.” He wiggled to conceal his pocket from view of the officers before he pulled the wallet out discreetly.

He opened it to pull out his license, and passed his hand over it. Nothing. He looked up, worried. “I can’t.” Too nervous.

“Give me that,” Max said. Michael pushed himself up to clamber out of the van, and as he maneuvered his way out, he brushed the card along the back of Max’s seat. Max touched the license momentarily before Michael straightened up. As he did, he checked it out. Oh, shit. He’d done a Florida license.

“The plate says Virginia!” Michael hissed.

Max shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how to do a Virginia license.”

Michael closed his eyes briefly before pulling out of the van and handing his forged drivers’ license to the officers. He didn’t know how to do a Virginia ID either, even if he was composed enough to make an alteration at the moment. Which he wasn’t.

“David?” the blond one asked as he studied the license. He glanced up at Michael.

It took Michael a moment to catch on. “Oh, right,” he said, and sought to cover up his blunder. “Um, I kinda go by my nickname.”

“What’s that?”

“Henry,” he said, without missing a beat.

“David Kyle Strong?” the darker-haired one asked, peering over at the license.

‘Kyle’? What was Max thinking? “Henry was my dad’s name.”

The blond one nodded. “I understand, but we’re gonna have to call this in, okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Michael said, trying to sound bored and not panicked. “Can I go sit with my friends?”

“Why don’t you come over here with us?” the darker-haired one said.

Michael felt his mouth go dry. The way the man was looking at him, sizing him up… he knew immediately that they weren’t just randomly selecting him to call his license in. “Yeah, can I at least go get my coke out of the car?”

“This’ll just take a second, Henry,” the guy replied.

“Right,” Michael said, blinking at them and trying to drown out his interior monologue. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit…

He followed the men to the car. Shit shit shit.

“I just bought the car,” he said, trying to cover himself. “It still belongs to my aunt from Virginia. I’m licensed in Florida, but my family’s all in Virginia, so I’m with my friends from Virginia, it’s where my mom lives…” He felt like he was almost babbling.

The blond one stood outside with him while the dark-haired one climbed back into the car to call the numbers in.

“Settle down, Henry,” the guy said.

“Right,” Michael said. “Sorry. I’ve just been drinking, um, a lot of coffee.”

He was trying too hard. He needed to relax.

He heard the van door slam and turned instantly, afraid they were leaving without him. No, Kyle Valenti was striding towards him. Kyle? Why Kyle? He figured they’d sent Kyle for his law enforcement experience. Not that being descended from a line of law enforcement officials helped much. All Kyle knew about was girls, sports, and cars. And Buddha.

“What’s going on?” Kyle asked.

“They’re just running our plate, no big deal,” Michael said. “They were confused, too, because my license doesn’t say Henry, which I go by. Henry.”

Kyle got it. “Right. Of course. Listen, if we’re gonna make it to New York this week, we gotta get going soon, Henry.”

Michael turned to the officers. “How much longer is this gonna take, guys?”

The blond one leaned over to whisper something to his companions. The other men descended from the car. “Just about done,” the blond guy said.

“What’s going on?” Kyle asked again nervously.

The men walked to either side of Michael, who tensed, prepared to run. But run where?

“We’re going to have to ask you to come with us, young man,” the brown-haired one said as he reached out to grab Michael’s arm.

Michael jerked away on instinct, glancing to Kyle for help, but Kyle’s expression reminded him. Nowhere to go. Act normal. Act innocent.

“Why?” Michael asked nervously. “You already ran it? That was fast.”

“Just get into the car, please.”

“Wait, wait. Don’t you have to read him his rights or something? Where are you taking him?” Kyle demanded. “We’re following you.”

“Fine,” the officer said. “Look, kid, you’re not under arrest. We just need to hold on to you until we get some more information back.”

“Information from where?” Michael asked, trying to sound confused.

“Could you just get into the car, please? The rest of you can follow us to the station.”

The door slammed again, and this time Maria and Isabel had emerged from the van, running up to investigate.

“What’s going on?” Isabel asked.

“They’re taking… Henry down to the station while they run some information,” Kyle said.

Maria’s eyes went wide. Michael made eye contact with her, and tried to give her a reassuring look. But she was panicking just as much as he was. It was no help. He was no help, on the verge of freaking out himself.

“There has to be some mistake,” Isabel said. “This is all a big misunderstanding. Henry hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He’s not under arrest,” the brown-haired guy repeated.

“Then let him ride with us,” Kyle said.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the officer said. “I have to ask you to get into the car now.”

Maria moved forward, trying to grab for Michael, as if to pull him away, but Kyle held her back. “We’ll see him at the station,” he whispered.

Maria fought to breathe. “See you at the station,” she said, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice. Michael nodded, and shot her a half-smile as he clambered into the car between the officers. Maria swallowed hard.

The three of them returned to the car, where Max and Liz were waiting expectantly.

“What the hell was that?” Max asked.

“Drive, Max,” Kyle said, as they all leapt in, grabbing for their seatbelts. “Michael’s in trouble.”

Michael scratched at his arm impatiently and glanced around the room. Real nice set-up, white plastered walls that were falling apart, concrete floor, folding table that was also falling apart. How was anyone supposed to take the officials seriously when this was your welcome?

He glanced toward the window. One little window, high up, barred. Not enough to slip through, even if he could melt the bars. His only options of escape were to try and melt a hole to the outside, and he was pretty sure there was a dumpster on the other side of the wall beneath the window (judging from the smell), or to go out the way he came in. The way that the officers were all waiting.

The door opened and a female officer came through. “Mr. Strong?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He peered around behind her. Two big burly guys blocking the way. So much for that idea. For now.

“We’ve received a request from officials in another state, we’re going to transfer you down there to be arraigned.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Where?”

“I think you know where.”

“I don’t.”

“Ever been to Roswell, New Mexico?”

The feeling of dread that had been churning in his stomach reached the boiling point. “Isn’t that where all the aliens are from?”

“So they say.”

“Nope,” Michael said, trying his hardest to act detached, “never been there.”

“Well, they’re asking for you. You’re sure your name is David Strong?”

“Yeah, yeah, I go by Henry.”

The woman nodded. “Well, Henry, apparently there’s been a case of identify confusion. We’ve got some folks claiming you’re a dead ringer for somebody they want. We’re gonna keep you here for the rest of the evening, and send you back in the morning. Just let them sort it out down there, and everything should be fine. They’ll get you back up here.”

“What about my friends?” Michael demanded. “Where are they?”

“Your friends never made it here,” she said. “We’ll try to contact them and let them know you’ve been transferred.”

They never showed up. They never showed up? Then where the hell were they? Michael knew they wouldn’t abandon him. Would they?

What if it came down to saving their own asses, trying to protect the remaining two of the Royal Four? Trying to keep their hero mission going? Max had let it be known time and time again that he was sick of covering for Michael’s stupidity.

Which is what this was. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If he’d moved faster, if he’d caught on quicker, if he’d alerted the group instead of just conspiring with Kyle.

If he had ever tried to follow up himself on what happened to Hank Whitmore.

Because Hank was his problem. Never anyone else’s. Michael had spent years dealing with Hank, keeping him at arm’s length. Using him for food and shelter, and a home in the same school district as Max and Isabel, keeping him from figuring out what Michael was.

And it had gotten out of control to the point that Nasedo had stepped in to take care of it.

It was Michael’s own fault, after all. If the others left him here to rot, he had no one to blame but himself. This time. At last.

“Are you ready?” the officer asked.

He exhaled, trying to let go. “Yeah,” Michael said. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s go.”

A few minutes earlier…

“How did they do that?” Isabel yelled, pounding the dashboard. “We just made the call! We changed the plates, we bought the phone, what did we do wrong?”

“I think maybe they can track us that fast,” Kyle said. “I don’t know. Global-positioning crap? I don’t know how else they could have done it. Whatever it was, they’re on top of us. They know he’s wanted. They got his description.”

“How are we going to get Michael out of there?” Maria asked, worried.

“We’re going to do this carefully, and not overreact,” Max said from the driver’s seat as he steered the van. “Let’s wait and see if they’re charging him with anything.”

“Uh-uh,” Maria said. “Now’s the time to act, Max. Before they charge him. He’s not even in handcuffs yet. He can still get out of there. Not once the Special Unit gets a hold of him.”

“How many minutes are left on the phone?” Max demanded.

“Like, three,” Maria said.

“It’s wrapped up in the bag in the backseat. Do you see it?”

Maria, Kyle and Liz began frantically searching the floorboards, turning over the accumulated junk of the last leg of their endless road trip. “Here it is,” Liz said, holding it up triumphantly.

“Kyle, call your dad back,” Max ordered. “Tell him what happened.”

“No,” Liz said. “Max, they have to be listening to his phone if they found us like this. And now they know that phone. If you call, it’ll alert them that Michael’s in custody, and exactly where we are.”

“Pay phone,” Kyle said immediately. “Find a pay phone. We’ll call my dad’s cell.”

“We should have done that in the first place,” Isabel fretted.

“They’re just as likely to be listening to his cell,” Max reminded them.

“Well, we know for certain they’re tapping his landline now,” Liz said. “And tracking our cell. I don’t know, maybe we should throw the phone out now, keep moving, and find a pay phone somewhere further on.”

“They know which way we’re going,” Isabel pointed out.

“Then we go another way,” Liz said. “Backtrack or something.”

“We have to keep following the patrol car,” Maria insisted, her voice rising in timbre. “We are not losing track of Michael.”

“Okay,” Max said, raising his hand to call attention and work through the rising tide of the girls’ voices. “Okay, a plan. Maria, Isabel. When we get to the police station, you two will get out. Isabel, see if you can change both of your appearances before you get out of the van. Don’t ask about Michael, just come up with an excuse to be there and keep a lookout to see if they move him. The rest of us will go dump the phone and call Valenti’s cell to alert him and figure out what our next step should be.”

“We need to get him out of there now,” Maria argued.

“No, we need to figure out exactly why they want him in Roswell. Valenti’s on our side, and maybe he can help swing things our way and get us out of this without causing a stir.”

“They want him in Roswell for killing a man and blowing up an air force base, it’s pretty cut and dry,” Isabel pointed out. “Maria’s right.”

“No,” Max said, “They’re not with the Special Unit. If so, they’d want all of us. We need to lay low and keep them from connecting with the Special Unit.”

There was silence for a moment as they all processed this.

“Sheriff’s department doesn’t bug phones,” Kyle said. “They don’t have the budget for it.”

“Maybe the Special Unit’s stepping in on the Whitmore investigation,” Liz said. “I mean, if you want to find all of us, here’s the way to get us. Get Michael, and…”

“How long do you think it’ll take the Special Unit to get out to Oklahoma?” Maria asked. “Let’s get Michael out before they get here. They want him dead.”

“No,” Max said, “no. They’re playing by conventional rules. They won’t kill him in front of the Roswell sheriff’s department.”

Maria choked loudly.

Max caught Liz’s worried glance and pressed on. “If we can get Michael off legally, there’s nothing they can do. Any evidence they have linking him to the air force explosion is weak at best.”

“As long as they don’t find us,” Isabel said, her voice strangely high.

“There, look, they’re pulling in,” Maria said, leaning over Isabel to point at the police station.

“You girls ready?” Max asked.

Isabel turned around and waved her hand over Maria’s head, resulting in short, stick-straight blond hair, before changing her own to long blond hair.

“Wow, flashback,” Kyle muttered.

Maria caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror and frowned, but her appearance wasn’t her primary area of concern right now. She had a flash of an idea, and dove into her duffel bag, rummaging through until she found what she was looking for and slid it onto her finger.

“Faces?” Max asked.

Isabel sighed. “This is the hard part.” She passed her hand over her own face, wincing a little, before emerging with thinner lips, and a broader nose. Kyle frowned at her. “Maria, this’ll hurt a bit,” she said.

“Do it,” Maria said immediately. She held her breath as Isabel changed her appearance.

“Wow, that’s freaky,” Kyle muttered.

Maria gasped as Isabel removed her hand. “You okay?” Isabel asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” Maria said through clenched teeth. It was excruciating. It was as if every molecule in her face had been rearranged, which wasn’t true – Isabel had changed as little as possible for that very reason. Still, it was hardly pleasurable. Normally, she’d be howling up a storm. But pain didn’t matter now.

Pain was irrelevant when Michael was at stake. “Let’s go,” Maria said.

The girls hopped out of the van and sauntered toward the police station.

chapter 16

Despite the fact that the five occupants of the Volkswagen van were all awake, there wasn’t a hint of conversation in the car at all. Everyone was too focused on their thoughts to say anything to anyone else.

Max glanced at Liz, sitting beside him, staring out the window. She’d been awfully distant ever since he announced they were going back to Roswell. Her reaction, a calm “oh,” hadn’t been what he expected, and ever since she’d been fairly quiet. Although he’d heard her voice talking in a low tone to Maria in the bathroom at the last rest stop. He wanted to ask what was on her mind, but she looked as if she didn’t want to let him know.

Back to Roswell. The thought terrified him. The Special Unit was more determined to get them than they’d ever been under Agent Pierce’s watch. Pierce hadn’t really wanted to kill Max, just to study him. And torture him. At least the current leadership wasn’t into the whole pain thing. They just wanted to wipe them out. And Max had no intention of himself or anyone else getting wiped out anytime soon.

Especially not Michael.

It sickened him to think of how helpless Michael was at the moment, but he was even further sickened at the thought of what could go wrong if they tried to bust Michael out prematurely. All they had to do was get to Roswell, then they’d at least have someone in the sheriff’s department on their side. Even if he wasn’t the sheriff anymore.

Anything they did was a crapshoot. Max was used to gambling with their very existence. There were too many options right now, but the one that made the most sense, the one that sounded the safest for all concerned, was to wait for Roswell.

Which meant going home.

Max had thought he was through with Roswell. He was ready to be done. But here they were, headed down the highway towards their childhood homes. And back onto the radar of the ones who sought to end their lives.

He just hoped that this crapshoot would be a winning one.

Behind him, Maria was staring at her hand, at the plastic red ring on her hand. Her face ached even more since Isabel had changed it back. They’d debated keeping their painful disguises, but the girls were just too traumatized by what they saw in the mirror to leave it that way. “As long as I’m in this much pain,” Maria had complained, “can you at least fix this?”

So now she looked like herself again, long brown hair and familiar features. But the one thing that retained its change was the red ring on her hand.

She knew that the only reason Michael had any romantic tendencies at all was because she had badgered them into his thoroughly masculine, hardened nature. So when he showed the rare glimmer of whimsy, she had all the more reason to be appreciative. Michael always spoke best without words, and this last time he’d spoken the best…

Maria reached up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. It wasn’t the last time. He’d been in danger before, they’d gotten him out of it before. It was just… she’d never in her life been so unsure of what was going to happen next. With so much at stake.

She twisted the ring around her finger anxiously.

Kyle tapped his fingers idly on the steering wheel. He was getting used to maneuvering the van around the interstate; in fact, it was beginning to feel like a second skin. They’d been inside it for weeks now, as they wandered aimlessly from place to place. Now, they were going home, if briefly.

Kyle knew he’d made the right choice, leaving town with the others. It gave him a future, it gave him a meaning. It gave him a journey. He would only find fulfillment by venturing forth and exploring his potential.

But at the same time, part of him didn’t want to journey forth. Part of him didn’t even want spiritual fulfillment. He just wanted his own bed, his own TV. His own refrigerator, his own house.

His own father.

Something was wrong. He’d heard it in the last conversation with his father. He knew when his dad was not well, and that had been it. He’d sounded drunk. Jim Valenti didn’t get drunk like that. He was a robust drinker, that was for sure, but he didn’t get hammered. Kyle got hammered, or he used to before he started down his spiritual path, but his father didn’t.

He glanced in the rearview mirror at Maria, who was fingering the ridiculous-looking plastic ring on her hand, and wondered what they were getting themselves into once they reached Roswell city limits.

Beside Kyle, in the front seat, Isabel was the only one in the car not thinking so much about their return to Roswell. What she was looking for wasn’t in Roswell anymore.

Roswell wasn’t home any longer. Her parents weren’t her parents now that they were in on the alien conspiracy. Her parents were the safe humans, the ones who treated her like a human. Not these people who calmly discussed hybrid genetics and Antarian politics such that they understood it.

She’d tried to give them a brief primer over dinner a couple of days before Max’s graduation. They were still reeling from learning the truth about their children, dealing with baby Zan, and the shock of the Special Unit’s invasion into their privacy. Still, they’d taken the whole thing pretty well. Her mother had milked her for information on their family, what little they knew of it. She told Diane what they knew about their father’s death and Zan’s reign, along with their betrayal. She’d managed even to choke out the details of Vilandra’s role in the whole affair – at that point, they’d had to process so much that her parents were relatively unshaken to learn of her past history of betrayal. Followed, of course, by a long-winded self-preserving spiel from Isabel about how they’d established that they were different people from their former selves. Her father had gone into a long analysis of human inherited ruler systems that seemed similar to what they knew of the Antarian system, and Jesse had chimed in with similar political catastrophes to Zan’s assassination…

Jesse…

Jesse was in Boston now. Someone else lived in their apartment. He’d told her through an e-mail that he sold all their furniture. Someone else was sleeping in their bed. His mother had joined him from Roswell, and they’d sold his childhood home. The Ramirez family was getting as far away from Roswell, far away from the aliens as possible.

Isabel’s Roswell wasn’t there anymore. She didn’t know quite what it was that they were returning to.

Liz, for her part, was filled with trepidation. She had fed-exed her journal to her parents weeks before, knowing that they would never see her again. All of her secrets, all the things she only put on paper to help herself accept them, everything was revealed.

She knew at the time that you just don’t do that with your parents, but had thought there was no chance of her ever seeing them again. And if she was going to take their only daughter from them, the least she could do was give them the part of her that they never saw.

But what if she did see them again? Max had been quietly warning her that none of them could see their families. But what if she just… ran into her mother on the street or something? Now that her parents knew just how dishonest she’d been with them, perfect Liz, their only child. To find out that she was in Roswell and hadn’t contacted them? It would be the ultimate betrayal.

In the front seat, Kyle was the one to break the silence. “Guys,” he said.

“Five miles to the New Mexico state line.”

Across the van, each and every rider took a deep breath.

“I need to see Hanson.”

Deputy Alvarez leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at Deputy Valenti.

“He’s busy.”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure he is. Listen, is he in his office?”

“No.”

Jim glanced at the office, his old office, where a light was shining behind the frosted glass.

“Left his light on?”

“You’re not on duty till three, Valenti.”

“I’m aware of that,” Jim said tightly. With a sigh, he walked straight past Alvarez to Hanson’s office.

“Valenti!” Alvarez called after him. “That’s not-“

Ignoring him, Jim burst open the door.

The room somehow didn’t feel the same as it had when it was his office. The same flags, the same furniture, but a different feel. Hanson had rearranged it all. Kyle’s picture had once held a prominent place on this desk; now there was no sign of it.

Hanson turned to acknowledge him from the corner, by the filing cabinets. “Deputy Valenti?”

“Sheriff,” Jim greeted him. “You have a second?”

Hanson folded his arms, concealing the file in his arms. “Well, I’m busy.”

“It’s important.”

“So’s this.”

“The prisoner transfer.”

Hanson immediately moved to the door and closed it in one swift move.

“Valenti…”

“I keep my ears peeled when it comes to Kyle’s friends, sheriff.”

Hanson nodded sympathetically. “I can understand.”

“Did you tell the bureau yet?”

Hanson narrowed his eyes. “I know what you’re doing, Valenti.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Protecting your son. I hope you remember what your duties to this department are.”

“Hanson,” Valenti said, and stopped himself. “Sheriff. I know what you’re facing, because I went through the same thing in your position. Let me assure you that there’s a right side and a wrong side to this.”

“With the right side being your son’s?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “I’m not asking you to do anything illegal, Hanson. Just… don’t inform the bureau. Not yet. Hold the prisoner, do whatever you want, but give me a chance to make my case.”

“They want this Guerin kid bad,” Hanson said. “And his friends. Now, I don’t know what in the world your son is doing running off with them, but somebody somewhere thinks he’s a danger. And I’m inclined to agree. And frankly, based on the information I have, I’m not sure it’s safe for us to detain the kid without any help.”

“He won’t go anywhere,” Valenti said. “I’ll make sure of it, Hanson. I know the kid, I have a rapport with him.”

“So I recall,” Hanson said dryly. “And didn’t he date your girlfriend’s daughter?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Ex-girlfriend. As of now.”

Hanson straightened up. “I thought… what happened?”

Jim shook his head. “Never mind that. He’s not gonna hurt anybody, he’s not gonna run away as long as he can trust me and you can trust me. Understand?”

“No,” Hanson said. “Jim, I don’t understand any of this. Something has been going on with that Guerin kid and his friends for years. I know that, you know that. And you’ve put your job on the line for them before. Now, if you’re going to ask that I lie to a federal department, I have to know why.”

Jim took in a deep breath. “I can’t tell you.”

“Then I’m going to report that we have him.”

“No,” Valenti said. “No! Wait till he gets here. Let me talk to him, find out what I can tell you.”

“You’re taking orders from an eighteen-year-old fugitive now?”

“It’s complicated,” Valenti said. He stared at the worn carpet on the floor. He had sworn up and down to Michael, Max and Isabel that he wouldn’t reveal their secret… He stared back up at Hanson. Protecting the kids was the most important. Once this was straightened out, they’d never be seen near Roswell again.

“I think you’d better sit down for this,” he said slowly.


His hands shaking, Hanson opened the door leading down to the holding cells.

“Sheriff, are you okay?” Jim asked, observing his white knuckles clutching the doorknob.

“Fine, fine,” Hanson said, a little too quickly. “Fine. Jim. Deputy. Valenti. Um. This way.”

Jim decided not to mention that he knew the way to the holding cells, having worked in the department for twenty years. Not worth mentioning.

He stopped and waited for Hanson to stop as well.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable with this?” Jim asked seriously.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Hanson asked, his voice unusually high.

“You trust me, right?” Jim asked.

Hanson gulped. “With my life,” he said, his voice rising again on the last word.

Jim squinted at him. “Wait here,” he said.

“No problem,” Hanson said immediately, relieved to be left behind. Jim took one last look at him and then turned to head down the corridor himself, shaking his head. At least he’d had the benefit of a guessing game for months before he finally learned the truth. Hanson had just had his world turned upside down. It had been enough to turn Kyle to Buddhism, drive Maria, Liz and Alex to set up an elaborate disinformation campaign, and send Diane Evans into a deep depression. Hanson could be allowed a little nervousness.

Jim unlocked the door to the cell, walked inside, and locked it behind him before he looked up.

“Mr. Guerin,” he greeted the familiar tall figure in the corner. He was crouched on the bunk, his knees tucked up to his chest, staring up at the window.

Michael turned around to look up at him, but didn’t say a word. He looked almost frightened.

Jim lowered his voice. “No bugs in here, Michael, I checked the place out myself. And Hanson’s on our side for the moment.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at him.

“I talked to the others last night, they’ll get here sometime today.”

Jim took a step back to study Michael’s expression. It was blank. Completely blank. A little suspicious, untrusting, but not a hint of…

…Recognition.

Jim shifted into a more official position. “Mr. Guerin, would you like to use the telephone?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you, sir,” he whispered.

Jim nodded. “Certainly.”

He turned around, let himself out of the cell, and exhaled a strong breath as he reached Hanson. “Let’s go,” he said. The two of them left the corridor and closed the door behind them. Jim noticed as he closed the door that his knuckles were nearly as white as Hanson’s. “We have a complication,” Jim said in a low tone.

Hanson folded his arms and stared back at him. “I can’t wait to hear,” he said.

“That boy in there.”

“The…” Hanson lowered his voice and glanced around. “The ‘alien’?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “Him.”

“What about him?”

Jim glanced around. He couldn’t believe he was about to say what he was about to say, but it had to be said. Sooner or later. Hanson had to know. He was going to have a cow, but he had to know.

“That boy is most definitely not Michael Guerin.”

“Before we start setting up camp, can we just talk for a second?” Max asked.

“Fearless leader,” Isabel sighed. “Shoot.”

Max glanced at her. “Thank you Isabel,” he said in a monotone. He twisted around in his seat and settled his gaze on the teenagers behind him.

“There are eyes and ears all over this town right now. We know who we can trust, but we don’t know how safe they are. I want everyone to remember that contacting anyone – anyone – puts ourselves and that person at risk.”

“Oh, gee, thanks, guess that makes my dad a target,” Kyle said.

Max shook his head. “We didn’t have a choice, Kyle. If anything happens to your dad because of this I’m truly sorry, but we’re going to make sure that won’t happen.”

Kyle fell back in his seat. “Thanks… I guess.”

“We need Valenti on this. But everyone else – our parents,” he said with a glance at Isabel, “your parents. Friends, family. I know how much you want to see them, but we can’t.”

Liz shot a look at Maria, whose eyes were growing wide as flying saucers. “Max… there has to be a safe way we can do it. At least a private meeting, or…”

“No,” Max said. “We have no guarantees. If you love them, you’ll leave them alone.” He glanced downward.

Maria’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t hear my mom on that phone the other night,” she said. “She is devastated . Max, she needs to see me.”

“And she got to hear your voice,” Max said. “She’s lucky. Isabel and I won’t have anything to do with our parents. Or Liz.”

Isabel exchanged a glance with Liz, whose steely expression met her own. “Max, I hope you realize you have just thoroughly pissed off everyone in this car.” She reached for the door, swung it open, and jumped out of the car in a flurry.

Kyle glanced after her, opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped. There was no point. He would get to contact his father, after all.

Liz looked to Maria, whose eyes were tearing up. “’Ria,” she whispered.

Maria shook her head, trying to keep herself from completely dissolving into tears. “I – I can’t. Not here.” She followed Isabel, and was followed in turn by Kyle.

Max sighed and glanced back at Liz. “What is it they’re not understanding here?” he asked.

“What is it you’re not understanding, Max?” Liz exploded at her husband. “We’re home. As long as we’re going to partially expose ourselves anyway, you might as well let us talk to our families. Or can you just give your own up that easily?”

“Liz-“

Liz shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said, and stormed out of the van herself, leaving Max alone. Alone and befuddled.

Liz walked around to the back of the van, where Kyle and Isabel were scouring the campsite. “Should we set the tent up in the corner there, or over there?” Isabel asked, pointing.

Kyle made a face. “Let’s see, we parked right here, so oh yeah, as far away from the car as possible.” He turned to Liz and waved his hand apologetically. “Isabel, Maria and I actually plan on sleeping tonight.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Liz asked, giving a short laugh.

“Well,” Kyle said, “let’s just say we know it’s been a few days since you two have had some private time.”

“Ah,” Liz said, her smile fading. She glanced up to the van, where Max was sitting by himself, staring into his lap.

“In fact,” Isabel said, “how about if you two take the tent way over there? The rest of us can get some peace and quiet in the van. Otherwise, we’ll all spend the night covering our ears in the tent to keep out the sound of rocking van.”

“Isabel!” Liz shrieked, covering her mouth. “I cannot believe you!”

“Yeah, well,” Kyle said, “we couldn’t believe you guys at that motel in Illinois.”

“Oh, we were so not making noise,” Liz said.

Kyle shrugged and looked to Isabel. “You so were,” Isabel said. “He and I were throwing pillows at the wall all night.”

Liz covered her mouth in a failed attempt to hide her blushing. “Whatever,” she said. She was about to turn to Maria to level a similar complaint against Maria and Michael when she thought the better of it. Now was not the time. “Maria, you want to help me pitch the tent?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Maria said quietly.

She pulled her aside, marching her best friend across the gravel driveway of the manicured campsite, as Kyle and Isabel took out the tent. “We’re gonna get him out of there, okay?”

Maria sniffed a little. “I know,” she said.

“I know it’s hard to be away from him…”

“Why can’t I see my mother?” Maria blurted out. “I mean, here I am dealing with an insane amount of Michael issues-“

“You guys are doing so well! Well, aside from him being in jail.”

Maria ignored her. “-and Mom’s doing god-knows-what with Jim Valenti, and Michael’s gone, and I didn’t get to say goodbye to my house, and I just want to see my mom!”

Liz placed her hands on Maria’s shoulders. “’Ria. Maria. I know, I wish I could see my parents, too…”

Maria lowered her voice. “Then why don’t we, Liz?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Max is gonna be busy with getting Michael out, and he won’t really need us. It’s all political. What are we gonna do? I tell you what we’re gonna do, we’re gonna go find my mom, and your mom and dad, and get to tell them goodbye like we never got the chance to do.”

Liz lowered her hands to grab Maria’s wrists. “Max said-“

“Fuck Max!” Maria hissed. “If he doesn’t care about his parents, it’s not my problem. If my mom messes up her life again, it is my problem.” She pulled her arms away from Liz.

“Calm down, Maria.”

“No, I have every right to be upset. Who does he think he is? He said he wasn’t the king anymore. Then why is he acting like it? I’m an adult, and I want to go see my mother. What’s the problem with that?”

Liz glanced back toward the van. Max was looking in their direction with some concern. “Maria, I agree with you completely, but we have to stick together.” She glanced back to Maria, who was shaking in anger.

Liz heaved a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, and trudged back up to the van as Max hopped out.

“Hey, Max, can I talk to you for a sec?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said cheerfully, apparently oblivious.

“Um, maybe-“ she gestured towards the woods, away from where Kyle and Isabel were already pitching the tent.

“Yeah, yeah,” Max said, and followed her off the campsite into the forested area. She led him a few feet away until she was sure they were out of hearing range, and then she whirled around in one quick movement.

“You can’t do this to us,” Liz said. “Maria is going crazy. Max, I’m going crazy. There has to be a way for us to contact our parents safely.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Max said. “Believe me, I want to see my parents.” From his casual tone, she wasn’t quite sure he understood where they were coming from. “But it’s just too risky. It’s risky enough that we’re here.”

“Everything is a risk, Max,” Liz said. “It’s a question of what risks are worth it. And this is worth it.”

“I’m sorry, Liz,” Max said, shaking his head. He wasn’t budging.

Liz sighed and glanced down. “Then I guess that’s that.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then,” she said, looking back up at him, “I’m sorry too, Max.” With that, she turned and strode back to the campsite. Max watched her go, wishing he had more of an answer.

But he didn’t.
A few hours earlier…

Michael was jolted awake by the bright white flash in front of the police car.

“What the hell-?” he heard one officer ask, before everything fell silent. Eerily silent.

Yet eerily bright. He glanced around, unable to see anything. This was weird. Nuclear bomb? He didn’t even want to think about it, though he was still a little nervous about current events. No, the men were just craning from the light, frozen. Frozen. Not moving.

It was then that the door dissolved beside him, and he saw a tall silhouetted figure staring at him.

“Rath,” it said, in a low female voice.

Michael blinked against the harsh light. “No,” he said, and then hastily corrected himself. “That’s not my name anymore.”

“Come with us,” the figure said, reaching for him.

“I can’t see,” he said.

“Take my hand.”

Okay, this was fucked up. Michael glanced to the front seat, where the officers were still frozen. He mentally ran a checklist in his mind. They knew his name. They were clearly alien-related. That much was for sure. Possibly Antarians themselves. Anything beat heading back to Roswell and jail again. He’d spent plenty of time in that jail, didn’t need any more. Which left one option. He reached out and felt a cold, rubbery hand wrap around his own, guiding him out of the car.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“We don’t have much time,” she (?) said.

Not leaving him a choice. He followed the hand where it led him, away from the car, up a ramp, into a…

…Surely not.

This had to still be a dream. He reached over with his free hand and pinched himself. And it hurt.

He tried to summon an image of Maria into the dream. That worked sometimes. But not this time. It still felt… real. Just fucked up.

…He was not walking up into a…

A…

“What the hell is that thing?” he asked.

The figure turned back to him against the white brightness of the… the…

“The vehicle,” it said. “Don’t worry, we’re not going far.”

Michael, speechless, could only follow, up the cold metal of the ramp, and into the vehicle, which swung shut behind him, leaving him in darkness.

A darkness that was pierced by a normal light, still dim to his now-blinded eyes, but one in which he could see.

He glanced around, trying to figure out what the spaceship looked like, and was disappointed to see that it looked like the back of an average shipping truck. Not the spiffiest thing in the world, but he could manage. Definitely not as cool as being in a real spaceship. He glanced around to survey his surroundings. Three folding chairs were propped in the middle of the open area, one of which held a middle-aged, balding man. A young girl was settling beside him into the second seat, presumably the one who had just “rescued” him. At least he hoped this was a rescue.

He glanced at their faces. The girl’s tiny, button nose was framed by cascading flaxen hair, and the man looked surprisingly trustworthy. All surprisingly human. As were their surroundings. Completely mundane.

“Rath, we welcome you,” the man said. “We have been searching for you.”

“I think you have the wrong guy,” he said. “He’s up in New York-“

“No,” man said with a snap. “We don’t want him. He’s a defective. It’s you we want.”

“What are you guys?”

“I am Rivir,” the man said. “This is Solia,” the young girl, whose rubbery hands looked surprisingly normal in this light. “You must know what we are.”

Michael reached out to sense their essences as best he could among the confusion. “You’re… you’ve taken on human bodies.”

“Yes.”

“I thought that took up large amounts of natural resources or something.”

“Not if you’re using the Granilith.”

“How did you…?”

“Politics later.”

He felt a rising panic. “Taking on human bodies. That’s dangerous.”

“We’ve done our proper preparations,” Solia assured him. “The humans will not be harmed.” She smiled at him. “We know how much affection you feel for humans, Rath.”

“Yeah,” he said, uncomfortable.

“We were surprised to find you a prisoner to them.”

Michael glanced back at the entrance he’d come in through. The cabin was rumbling right now, like it was a truck driving down the highway. Maybe it was.

“Long story,” he said, and surveyed his companions. “What are you guys really?”

“We are from Antar,” Solia said.

“Yeah, I figured that.” With the whole glowing-motif, and bodily possession, not exactly terrestrial behavior.

“We came for you.”

Michael waited a beat. This was getting redundant. “I see that,” he said.

“We are here to help you.”

“Wait a sec,” he said slowly, a hunch settling on him. “Are you guys Michael-worshippers?”

“Michael-what?” Rivir asked, surprised.

“Courtney. She said, uh, she came from a cult, that thought I should be in charge. That’s what you guys are?”

“Yes,” Solia said, leaning back in her chair and smiling. “That’s it exactly. The one you called Courtney was our scout among the Skins.”

“Oh, jeez,” Michael said, exhaling as he sat down on the fourth chair to join the group. “You guys sure picked some good timing.”

“Why were the humans abducting you, Rath?” Solia asked with concern. “Were they planning to harm you?”

“No, no,” he said, “and would you call me Michael? Rath is somebody else.” He noticed how uncomfortable they seemed with this notion. “Sorry, sorry, but… we need to lay that down on the table right now.”

“As you wish, Michael,” Rivir said with a nod.

“My friends,” he said suddenly. “They think I’m in that car. They’re gonna try and rescue me.”

“Everything will be taken care of, Michael,” Rivir said with a reassuring smile. “We issued a replacement. No one will notice.”

“My friends will,” Michael said.

“It does not matter,” Solia said, leaning over to take his hand. “You are with us now, Michael. Everything else is forgotten.”

“No,” Michael said slowly, “it’s not.”

“But your people need you, Michael,” Solia said. He noticed for the first time how silky the hair on her human incarnation was. Unlike Larek, Solia actually had good taste in the selection of human hosts. “Now is our chance. The people of Antar were waiting for the return of Zan, and all that returned in the Granolith was Ava and a human baby. Kivar has taken ill, and the realm is uncertain. It’s the perfect time for your return.”

“Without my friends?” Michael asked.

“You cannot tell them,” Rivir said urgently. “Zan and Vilandra will not allow it.”

“They’re Max and Isabel,” Michael said, “and in case you didn’t know, there are a few humans involved, too.”

“We know about the human girl,” Solia said, and was that a hint of sadness in her eyes? “But that is unimportant now.”

“Not to me it isn’t.”

“Rath,” Rivir said, and corrected himself. “Michael. Before you make any decisions involving millions of lives, I beg you to meet with someone.”

“She has been waiting to see you for a long, long time,” Solia agreed, her head bobbing eagerly.

“Who?” Michael asked. He felt the color drain from his face as a nagging suspicion took hold…

“She is waiting for us in the house we are using,” Solia added, excited. “She wasn’t able to travel.”

“Who is it?” Michael demanded.

“Your mother. Rath, your mother is ready to see you.”

The thunder was close, and it was loud. Too loud. Between the thunder and the rain drizzling down onto the roof of the tent, it was enough to keep Max from falling asleep. It had to have been an hour since they’d finished cleaning up after the quick dinner in the van. Quicker than usual because nobody – not his sister, not his wife, no one – was speaking to Max. He’d attempted to start a few conversations, but all he’d gotten was a sympathetic shrug from Kyle and evil glares from the girls.

He rolled over on the air mattress to steal a glance at Liz. She had turned away from him, facing the side of the tent. He watched her back, moving slowly in and out… her breathing was too fast for her to be asleep. He reached out gently to pick up a strand of hair that had slipped onto the mattress, and dropped it back into place. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Liz,” he hissed.

“Mmm,” she grunted.

“You awake?”

“I am now,” she said, clearly unhappy.

Max scooted closer to her and gently moved his arm over her side. He moved his body up against hers.

“Mmm,” Liz said again. “Not now, Max.” She shifted further to her side of the bed.

Max pulled his arm away and rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling of the tent. The moon was almost full, and had come out from behind the rain clouds enough that he could see the silhouettes of the rain drops landing and sliding down the tent, streaks of water striping the roof in assorted designs.

He thought of his mother and father, alone in their large house, without their children, without their grandchild, just the two of them. But then, they were used to being alone. He and Isabel had both moved out long before they left town. It wasn’t like it was anything new to them. And they’d been together for years, alone, trying to conceive their own children before they finally settled for adopting two strange six-year-olds. Who had subsequently abandoned them.

He started trying to notice the new raindrops. Figure out their rate. They were dying out, the short trails were far outnumbered by the long trails dripping down the sides of the tent. Each new drop arrived with a satisfying plop, before silently beginning its march down into darkness.

The sound was monotonous. A constant splatter on the tent. Enough to fade away into white noise, each small drop insignificant against the larger picture. The greater good. Some things had to be sacrificed for the greater good, especially when lives were on the line.

He thought of Liz’s parents, who also had said goodbye to their daughter when they sent her to boarding school. They, too, had time to prepare. They’d been given extra time with her when she dropped out of school. It was a bonus. It wasn’t like she’d been stolen away…

Drip… drip… drip…

Maria’s mom, where the hell had she been for the past year? He knew from talking to Maria that Amy had dropped out of her life completely. She was never the most hands-on parent to begin with, and the two had been growing apart for some time. So surely it hadn’t been as much of a shock when Maria finally vanished. Granted, she was upset, but she could manage. She could grow to accept it. And if she had Jim Valenti with her, then it would be okay. If the two of them could find each other in the mess that the aliens had made of Roswell, then everything had to be for the best.

Didn’t it?

And somehow, Max didn’t believe a word he told himself. But he knew that maybe if he said it enough times, it would make sense. It would be conceivable.

A bright flash lit up the tent, and Max counted. One… two… three… rumble. The thunder was three miles away.

He thought of his parents again, alone in their house, alone again. He thought of all the work that had gone into his adoption, all the years of pain and love Philip and Diane Evans put into raising two strange children that were never completely theirs. And for all their effort, all those years, in the end, all that remained was the two of them, alone again.

In other words, it had all been for nothing.

And in the end, their heartbreak was his own fault. Never mind all the good they’d tried to do for him.

And it wasn’t just them. It was Amy. Jeff. Liz. Diane. Isabel. Maria. Philip. Nancy. All of them, betrayed by Max. Brokenhearted, by Max. He stole another glance at Liz, breathing evenly on the air mattress, pushing away from him, and he somehow didn’t blame her in the least.

But at the same time, he knew he had no choice. At least, no choice that didn’t lead to the ending of lives. And at the moment, he didn’t see that as much of a choice. He didn’t see the option.

Drip…

Michael squinted against the bright light of sunrise that poured through the opening rear of the truck. He hadn’t realized how dim the light inside the truck was.

“How long have you waited for this?” Solia asked, standing at his elbow.

“A long time,” Michael admitted, somewhat uncomfortably. “Who are those guys?” Two figures were setting up the ramp of the truck so that they could descend safely.

“They are shapeshifters,” Rivir said. “They are of no consequence.”

Right, Michael thought to himself, shapeshifters. After the whole Los Angeles fiasco, he and Max had come to the conclusion that shapeshifters, Langley and Nasedo included, were considered an inferior race on Antar. It wasn’t a concept his human-raised mind was comfortable with but, he reminded himself, if this worked out the way Solia and Rivir wanted it to, perhaps his first act as leader could be to go about changing that.

Then again, he wasn’t sure that was how he wanted it to play out. Not yet.

Rivir clamped his hand on Michael’s shoulder. Michael automatically flinched away, leaving Rivir to uncomfortably pull his hand back to himself.

“We have waited for this for a long time as well,” he said.

With the ramp in place, Michael found Solia and Rivir both staring at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He took a deep breath and started down the ramp, moving into the open air.

He found himself in a field, about twenty yards wide, surrounded by trees. And there, in the middle of the field, was a house. He knew it immediately. It was the golden house, the one he had seen in his dream.

Which begged the question.

“So how the hell did you guys get a house?” Michael asked, turning to face Solia and Rivir, who had followed him down the ramp.

“It belongs to the family we inhabited,” Solia said proudly.

Michael shook his head in disbelief. These people were ruthless. He could almost identify with that.

Michael took a step towards the house. And another. And another. Then he stopped.

“I can’t,” he said as he turned to Solia, in a panic.

She placed her small hand on his arm, in a way that invoked Maria and her tender touch. Maria. She was far away, and if these people had their way he would never…

“You can,” she said. She was right. Michael turned again to approach the house. He had waited long enough for this.

“Hello,” Michael said quietly, as he reached the porch. “Hello?” He glanced at Solia for support.

“Inside,” she said. He reached for the screen door and pulled it open with a creak. He stepped inside. “Living room,” Solia said.

Michael looked around briefly, surveying the quaint country home, the floral patterns, the hard wood. And immediately located the living room, to the right off the front entryway. Lemonade was set up on a coffee table, fresh flowers sprouting beside the glasses of fresh ice. It was everything that he’d…

It’s not her home, he reminded himself. They’ve stolen it. Yet everything was perfect, except for the woman asleep on the couch.

He glanced back to Solia, looking for an explanation. “I come all this way and she’s napping?”

“Wake her,” Solia said with a smile.

Michael coughed. “Um… hello?” he called hesitantly.

Rivir shook his head. “ Wake her,” he said. He demonstrated with his hands and placed them on Michael’s temple. “You can do it.” He removed his hands and gave an encouraging nod.

With a stare at them – these guys were rapidly climbing his list of weird aliens he didn’t fully understand, which was a long list to be fair – Michael approached the woman on the couch. She had silver hair, but didn’t seem much older than forty. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t his mother, it was just a vessel.

He placed his hands on her temple. Rivir wanted him to do something, something alien. He reached into his mind. “Mother…” he called, silently, reaching in to hers.

Her eyes flew open, sending him tumbling back, where he bumped against the coffee table, upsetting a little of the lemonade.