It was week forty-four of the year. Michael swore under his breath.
What the hell was that damn code again? Letter R, so that meant the second R
they chose, Reno, Nevada, Locker 5D.
Reno was a large enough town to get lost in. This fact made it easier
to melt into the crowds of gamblers and other shady characters. Michael watched
the bus station for a while. The lockers were in a back area near the restrooms.
The entire place was crowded and it smelled of manufactured air. Another hour,
and it should be safe.
He tried to rest, to calm down. He couldn’t. He had spent so many
nights avoiding sleep, avoiding the dreams and nightmares that plagued him. Now
he regretted it.
Maria. It had been his connection to Maria. He needed that connection
back to help him find her. So he would be able to think like she thinks.
Normally, that very thought would have sent him into a bout of semi-hysterical
laughing. Think like Maria? Damn. Where are you? Maria, where are
you?
The letters and presents weighed heavily in his backpack. He was
finding it hard to feel good about delivering them. None of them deserved
anything. Especially from those they had left behind.
Michael couldn’t get that out of his mind. He and Isabel were the
most to blame, but the others should have protested. They should have used that
‘great’ intellect they tossed about boastfully and with pride, and realized
that anyone associated with them would be a target. There had been clear
warnings. Pierce had attempted to take Alex right after his admittance to the
group. Jesse had been taken by FBI Agent Burns, whom he later unwillingly
killed. Imagination. They hadn’t thought of the possibilities because they
lacked imagination.
Maria had once told him that the lack of imagination was where mistakes
originated. First you stop imagining all the possibilities, and then suddenly
things you never conceived of begin to happen. Whose fault would it be? It was
important to be able to look at all possibilities, like playing chess.
Maria was excellent at that. She was such a hyperactive worrier; she
had the most vivid and dramatic thoughts running through her mind at all times.
She was the one who had told Liz that Topolsky was an agent, a special agent
searching for aliens. Liz took that scenario to the trailer park where he lived
with Hank, to warn him. He had thanked her for that, and felt a small amount of
gratitude, but the credit actually belonged to Maria. It was her imagination
that fretted out the possibility. No one ever accused Liz Parker of an over
abundance of imagination. But that wacky Maria girl had it running in her blood
like an unstoppable virus.
He wanted her back. He needed her back. Max was right, and god,
he hated that! Maria had been left behind because of his pride. He hadn’t
forgiven her, and it separated her from the rest. She had left him, wanted out
of the alien vortex. He had paid her back in kind. She wanted out, so fine, he
had made sure she stayed out. And she had been so very right. She had been right
to fear where her connection with the aliens was heading, right to want
something safe in her life. She had instinctually known that whatever happened,
no matter how hard she tried to have something of her own, she would have to
give it up for him. His alien life was always bigger, always more important.
All this time, a year later, he was only now beginning to understand
what she had been saying to him that day. She loved him, too much. That she
would lay down her life and dreams, everything for him. Let him ignore her. Risk
her life for him. So that one day she would awaken as a woman with no dreams,
living vicariously through him. She would never be anything but a shadow behind
him. She was trying to find herself, a place she could be strong on her own.
It had hurt, and he nursed the pain too long, using it to build more
walls, an old habit showing up like the proverbial bad penny. They couldn’t
talk because it always came back to hurt feelings, his and hers. His because she
had left him and hers because he wouldn’t understand or even listen. That was
the problem. He never listened to her, and she responded to his anger with
defensive actions, closing the circle in a vicious loop. They were quite a pair.
Now they were a pair of soon-to-be-parents.
God, a father! He was going to be a father! He had never thought of
parenthood. That was something totally outside his imagination. Maria was
teaching him again, teaching him to think outside the box.
~~~
Michael opened the door to the motel room and entered without knocking.
It took a moment for the inhabitants to realize he was standing in the doorway.
None of them spoke. He’d been gone just over two weeks, but it seemed longer.
Perhaps made so by the fact they were weren't sure that he would ever return.
“Michael!” Isabel was on her feet and hugging him. He returned the
gesture halfheartedly. He…she, they…they were co-conspirators in the
nightmare he had become aware of just days ago. Hugging Isabel felt…wrong. The
action actually made his skin crawl. Not her fault. Not really. But there it
was; an automatic reaction.
Max stood apart watching. He wanted, needed to hug Michael, his
brother-gone-missing, but was uncertain of the reception. It was his fight with
Michael that prompted his leaving. What should he say? How should he act? If he
acted happy and relieved, then Michael had won the fight. He had made them
worry, trying to prove some mythical idea in Michael Guerin’s head. If he was
hard and biting, Michael might turn around and leave again.
Max stood on a precipice, wavering, unwilling to make a move in case it
was the wrong one. Damn Michael Guerin! Nothing was worse than being a King who
had no followers or none that cared what he thought.
“It’s about time you showed up.” Max almost winced at the cold
disapproving tone of his voice. He didn’t mean that. He didn’t. It just came
out that way. “We were waiting, and wasting time keeping to a schedule that we
had no idea if you would keep or even remember. Maybe telling us before you
left, or even pre-arranging a future meeting was too much in the area of
consideration? It’s a concept that obviously eludes you.”
Max ignored Kyle’s glare as the quiet man looked away. Why start this
again? Isabel was hanging on the arm of a quiet Michael, her eyes narrowing in
anger at Max. Liz was quiet, but she moved slightly behind Max in silent
support, and for some reason that pissed Max off even more. He was wrong. He
felt wrong, and his tone was nasty and judgmental. Liz, accepting it without
question, was not the person he first met, the one who stood up for what was
right. She knew he was wrong. Why didn’t she call him on it?
“You’re the same as always Maxwell, the boy who would be King, huh?
Yeah, it’s nice to see you too.” Michael removed Isabel’s hand from his
shoulder, and went over and punched Kyle on the arm. “Good to see you,
Kyle.”
Max felt the rebuke in the action more than any words Michael could
have spoken. Michael was singling Kyle out as someone he respected and missed,
ignoring the rest. Isabel stepped back, feeling the slap herself.
Michael reached into his pack. “Your dad sent you this.” He handed
over a package and a letter which he knew also contained money. “He asked me
to tell you that he really misses you.”
Kyle looked at the package in his hand, then the envelope. His dad!
Michael had seen his dad! Closing his eyes, he wished that Michael had taken him
with him. That he had gone with Michael to Roswell, his home, his father. How he
would have loved to see it again! He hadn’t even realized how homesick he was
until that very moment.
Kyle couldn’t help it. He quickly hugged Michael in gratitude.
Max frowned. “You went to Roswell?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
It was obvious. “Are you crazy? They could’ve picked you up. Followed you!
Can you even imagine how much trouble we could be in if they caught us?”
Michael could. He could do more than imagine. He knew. He had reason to
know. Glancing over at Max, his eyes became darker, deeper and colder than
death, saying nothing. Max could feel those eyes. The rage and anger was barely
contained. Stepping back, Max realized that he couldn’t resort to the past
actions of thoughtless hostility when losing his control. He couldn’t attack
Michael, hit him, and expect Michael to just take it.
Michael would fight back. Max would lose more than pride. This time
Michael would probably break his neck. The restrained violence was just on the
surface, Only a fool could not see that retreat had suddenly become the better
part of valor.
Michael never took his eyes off Max. Reaching into his pack, he handed
Isabel a package with letters inserted under the ribbon.
“Your mom said to remind you to sleep with your window a little open
at night during late fall and winter. It helps you breathe easier. You always
had a problem with the dry heat coming out of the furnace.”
Isabel’s hands shook as she took the offering Michael held out to
her. Home! Her parents! Her eyes flooded with tears. Home was something most
people took for granted, and did not appreciate until they left its safety. She
missed her life, or what her life once could’ve been. Shaking, she sat down
hard and just stayed there staring at her care package from home.
“Michael…” She glanced up at him from where she sat, tears slowly
rolling down her cheeks. Words. How did you thank someone for risking their life
to bring back a small piece of your own?
“No problem.” He couldn’t look at her. She…she wasn’t through
crying. This was just the beginning. He had a long story to tell, and it
wasn’t going to be easy on her, on any of them. He hated himself right now,
hated her, and hated the group of them, but hurting any of them wasn’t
something he would take pleasure in doing.
“Michael?” Liz wrung her hands together. She was afraid to ask. Was
there something in that backpack for her?
Michael nodded. Liz smiled tremulously, the smile mixing with tears.
She took what Michael held out to her. Shyly she kissed him on the cheek in
thanks.
“Your mom sent you a sweater, a dirty stuffed pink pig…”
“Horatio?” Liz said happily interrupting Michael.
“…your brushes and a book.” Michael continued to ignore Max.
“Your parents also sent you and Max a wedding present.”
Liz looked at Max and smiled. A wedding present! They knew!
Michael must have told them! She looked down at the package in her hand, and
turned it over once or twice. They had missed her marriage ceremony. Raising and
caring for her, her entire life, and they had missed the most important day they
could have given her. She cheated them with her lies and silence. Guilt was a
heavy weight on her back, and her thin body could barely handle it.
Liz quickly searched the package and letters. Smiling, she started to
read…
Michael took the last of it out of his pack, Max’s. Placing it on the
table, he dropped his empty bag, and went past Max into the bathroom. God, he
stank! When it bothered him, then he had to be really rank.
He jumped in the shower, and turned the water on as hot as he could
stand it. Underneath the thumping spray, he stood with his head bent. It took a
few moments before the trembling that began inside to finally shake itself
outward. Michael leaned up against the cool porcelain tile as the hot water
pounded on him like water on stone. No amount of hot water could warm his bones,
so he stood there shaking apart.
He stayed as long as the hot water lasted. Standing in front of the
steamed up mirror with a towel around his waist, he wiped away the fog that
obscured his vision with a washcloth.
The hard, gaunt-faced stranger with a scruffy beard and dead eyes
looked somewhat familiar. It was an older version of himself. Ravaged by
loneliness, scars of life with Hank and isolation from the world peered back at
him. What would he have become if Maria had never entered his life? Rubbing his
face, he reached for a razor. Hoping it was Kyle’s or Max’s and not one of
the dull ones the girls used, he scraped the whiskers away. He needed to look
clean and presentable when he found Maria.
The mirror kept fogging up, so he used the cloth and cleared it again
and again. It was making him tired and sleepy. Almost like being hypnotized by
the constant repetitive movement, the circular sweep of his hand.
Go the distance. Find that connection
you forgot. Find your heart. It will lead you.
“Maria?”
Her voice. It was so clear in his mind.
Go the distance.
“Help me.”
Help yourself. Take the time.
Maria...! Michael shut his eyes and stood in front of the mirror
unmoving.
~~~
They were all hushed in their own corners, hoarding the words from
home, contact with a life left behind. Isabel searched for word from Jesse,
nothing. No mention of him from her parents. Jesse?
Liz reread her letter twice. It was short. Congratulating her on her
marriage, a few reminders to take care, and how much they loved her. Turning the
letter, Liz searched for more. That was all there was. Not enough. Her parents
were silent. Liz took out a formal-looking envelope that was in the small box of
her things. It was set among brushes, Horatio, a book. The sweater wasn’t even
hers. It was one of her mother’s. Frowning, Liz remembered that Horatio had
been boxed away years ago, and the brushes too. They were brushes she used as a
child. The book was a Bible.
Opening the formal letter, she hoped for more. It was Mom and Dad’s
wedding present to her and Max; money, cash. Her father must have sent them a
few days’ receipts. It was a few thousand of different sized bills. No other
note.
There was nothing from Maria. No mention of her. Liz looked around for
Michael. She could hear the shower still running. He had been in there a long
time. Guilt hit her again. Her parents... Maria... Lately she had been so caught
up in running, being with Max, finally getting what she wanted for years that
she had forgotten to think about Maria or her parents. It took the knowledge
that Michael had seen them to make her realize that over five months had gone
by. She was just waking up to the reality of never seeing them again.
Isabel was in a corner reading the letter from her mom and dad for the
fourth time. They sent her makeup, a few odds and ends. She wished they would
have sent her favorite pink sweater, the angora. It was getting colder. Maybe
her mom couldn’t. Maybe Jesse left for Boston and took her things. The letter
was short, but full of love, and how much her parents missed her. They were
pleased to know from Michael that all of them were well. The money was
appreciated. Isabel suspected they sent Max the same.
Max’s package was smaller. It was more of a stuffed envelope instead
of a letter. Inside were newspaper clippings from over the past few months. Max
couldn’t figure out why his parents sent him news stories. There was a flannel
shirt in the package that belonged to his father, and cash. Her mother sent a
small bracelet that belonged to her mother for Liz as a wedding present.
Max couldn’t figure it out. The letters were appreciated, but in some
ways cold and distant. None of the items sent were personal items except Liz’s
and even hers were from storage. The news clippings were something he’d need
to study. Perhaps his father was trying to clue him in, give him a hidden
message.
The most obvious solution would be to talk to Michael. Max looked at
the closed bathroom door. Michael had been in there almost an hour. The shower
had been turned off almost twenty minutes ago, but Michael still hadn’t
emerged. What the heck was taking him so long?
Kyle’s letter was different. His dad wrote a long letter, more than
one. It was jammed with gossip about friends, sports, and news about fishing.
Kyle smiled appreciating how much trouble his dad went to, trying to make him
still feel part of his life. The last was a long serious letter. Kyle read it,
glancing up at the others at times, but quickly down again to hide his face. Jim
told him that Michael would explain, but that he, Kyle must never return to
Roswell or the state of New Mexico. Ever.
The package had a picture of him and his dad, and old one of his father
holding him as a child, and even a picture of his mother. There was an insulated
flannel shirt, extra socks, and a box of condoms. Kyle laughed at that. His dad
was such a guy. On the bottom of the package was a box of crackers, a can of
cheese under pressure, and a small tube-wrapped salami. God!
Love you Dad! Kyle quickly hoarded his food supplies. This was for the next
ball game he got to watch. He would watch, eat snacks while wearing his dad’s
insulated flannel shirt, and pretend his father was with him. Thanksgiving. He
would do it on Thanksgiving.
~~~
“Maybe we should knock?” Liz said biting a nail and staring at the
bathroom door. “What do you think, Max?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably tired. Maybe we should let him
sleep, and ask him questions later.”
“I can’t wait. I want to know about Jesse. And where is Maria? Did
she refuse to come with him this time? Maybe she left Roswell. Took a recording
contract?”
Kyle watched them all quietly. “Maybe Jesse and Maria left
together.”
Isabel turned on him. “That's a terrible thing to say!” Kyle was
her friend. What the hell was up with him? “Jesse…he wouldn’t do that. Not
while married to me.” Isabel’s stomach hurt. There were the beginnings of a
buzz behind her eyes. This was going to be a really bad headache. She could feel
it. “Jesse and Maria hardly know each other. What you’re suggesting is
preposterous.”
The bathroom door opened, and Michael finally emerged. He was
clean-shaven, his hair was toweled, but wet, and he was wearing nothing but a
towel around his waist. Ignoring the entire group, he went over to the sofa that
was too small for his length and lay down anyway.
“Michael,” said Max looking at the others. He turned back and
Michael was already asleep. No one moved. None of them had ever seen anyone fall
asleep that quickly before. Michael had to be exhausted. Kyle took a blanket and
covered the sleeping man. They were quiet for the remainder of the night
watching him sleep.
Max took the time to read the articles. Each article made him more
upset than the last. It was a tale of the destruction of families…stolen
children. A movie producer in Hollywood named Cal mysteriously missing. There
were articles about a problem in New York City, and a picture of a man that
looked very similar to Michael, dead. Rath. Whoever was after him hadn’t been
able to take him alive. What the hell was going on?
Max moped, watching Michael sleep.
~~~
“Okay, explain it again.”
Michael scowled at her and then sighed. “Maria, its just hockey, not
rocket science. It’s not that hard.”
Maria squinted at the television. “How do they keep track of that
little thing? It sure can move on the ice.”
“That’s what makes it so interesting.” Michael said proudly.
“Uh huh.” Maria looked thoughtful for a second, and then looked at
Michael with great suspicion. “How do you feel about car racing?”
“Like stock car or Grand Prix?”
“Yeah,” said Maria with an ‘I think’ under her breath. What the
hell was Grand Prix?
“Awesome! Love the speed, and although tragic at times when they
crack up, it must be exhilarating to experience racing at that speed.”
“Oh God!” Maria said dramatically.
“What?”
“Michael, they just go around in circles.”
Michael’s face creased in confusion then irritation. “Fine. So
what’s your idea of a great sport?”
“Shopping.”
Maria waited for it. Michael grabbed her, and they were rolling around
on the sofa with Maria laughing trying to avoid Michael’s mouth on her neck,
making loud obnoxious raspberries.
“Where are you?”
Maria didn’t say. She continued to talk about things as if he never
asked.
“Where are you?”
“Here. I'm here.” Her voice became hollow. “I am still here.”
She was fading…
“Maria!” Michael sat up in the dark.
The room was quiet. The others had gotten tired of waiting for him to
wake, and finally they went to bed. The air conditioner was on low, and despite
it being fall, it was still warm in the room. Reno. Michael rubbed his face.
I am still here.
“I miss you.” Michael lay back down and stared at the dark ceiling.
He needed to do what he came for, and quickly. He was wasting time. He had too
many miles to cover.
But where did he start? How the hell did she get out of Roswell on her
own?
~~~
Over
4 Months ago…
“You’ve got everything?”
Maria nodded, not looking up at Mr. Whitman. She couldn’t. Tears.
They were always on the edge of her control, ready to spill. Hormones. She was a
mess.
“Maria…” The older man suddenly looked gray. He didn’t want to
lose her too. Alex was his son, and too much to ever replace. Over the past two
days, they had kept Maria safe in their house, as he and Linda worked to prepare
her a way out of Roswell. They put together clothing and money, and they were
giving her a car. As soon as she could, she was to have it taken to Topeka,
Kansas, to a factory for the car. The cover story was that his car was being
refitted with a new larger engine. The factory already had a work order, and
they were awaiting the car’s delivery.
Maria looked up at the two watching her carefully. She hugged them both
hard, and for a moment held Alex’s mother so close, for Alex and for Amy. She
had slept in Alex’s room for the past two nights, and it seemed at times that
he was still there. They had kept it exactly as it was before he died, cleaned,
dusted, swept. The Whitmans were living with the ghost of their son. Maybe
finally they could let him go.
“I wanted to ask one last favor…” Maria swallowed hard. It was
difficult. “I want to know, if it's possible, if you would consent to be my
baby’s god-parents? I…I understand if you don’t want to, but it’s just
that I would’ve asked Alex, and…”
“Yes.” They both said it at the same time without hesitation.
“You’ll let us know when the time comes. You’ve got the address?” Mr.
Whitman asked.
Maria nodded. Mr. Whitman had set up a P.O. Box in Las Cruces under the
name Alex Whitman. If Maria needed anything, or needed to contact the other
parents or Jim, she could send it there. The Whitmans would deliver it to them.
There was no way for the Whitmans to contact Maria, so they told her to look in
the back of Alex’s favorite music magazine. They would leave messages for
‘The Whits’. The publication was only a monthly one, so Maria only had to
look once a month.
It was late, three in the morning. Time to go. Mrs. Whitman was driving
Maria in the car as far as Las Cruces. Maria was to drop her off at her
sister’s place and go on. The two women stood at the car looking back at the
tall lean man. He raised his hand in goodbye. Maria nodded, and quickly got into
the car, not looking back again.
Roswell was over. That chapter in her life finally ended. There was
nothing left to keep her there, just memories. There were so many bad ones
obscuring a lifetime of good ones.
It was around nine in the morning when she finally pulled up to the
Dupree estate. This was where her journey could end. Laurie Dupree. Liz wrote
about Laurie and her connection to Michael. It was a question of whether they
had already gotten to her, were coming, or even waiting. Options were few, but
Laurie was another loose end. Maria couldn’t leave her dangling.
“May I help you?” The voice on the intercom was polite, but
distant.
Maria paused for a moment. What to say? Were they there, waiting to
recapture her? A moment of pure terror ripped through her body. Maria closed her
eyes, and breathed hard to calm herself. No fear. No fear. Be brave!.
“Yes. I'm looking for Laurie Dupree.”
“Is Ms. Dupree expecting you?”
Maria laughed charmingly. “No. I hope not! I was just passing
through, and wanted to give her news about her…brother, Michael.”
There was a pause at the other end, and Maria’s body became covered
in sweat. She was about to turn the car around, when suddenly the gate opened.
Go or flee? Fight or flight? Maria’s hand tightened on the wheel, she took her
foot off the brake and slowly proceeded.
A young woman came out of the front door.
Laurie.
“Maria?” Laurie’s voice was filled with surprise and delight.
“Maria!”
Maria found herself in a warm hug. She returned it and for a moment she
forgot about everything except human contact. Then memories flooded back, of her
and Michael in a tree, spying on the Dupree estate.
“We have to go inside. Now.”
Laurie pulled back. Seeing the fear in Maria’s face, and taking in
the pale thin face, she nodded pulling Maria into the house with her.
“Jenny, could you have Carl come around and take Ms. Maria’s car
around to the garage, and have her bags brought in?”
“Yes, Ms. Laurie.”
The girls waited until the maid left, and Laurie took Maria’s cold
hand and led her into the study.
“Michael? Has something happened to Michael?”
Maria nodded. She was at her wits end, too tired to walk a step more.
Endurance had bled from her body, and she couldn’t speak for a moment. No
time. No time to be weak. Hysteria later, speed now.
“There is very little time. I have to tell you a story, a hard story,
and then we have to decide what to do; for you and for me.”
Laurie grabbed Maria’s hands hard. “Maria, what happened?”
“They killed my mother.”
Laurie’s eyes filled with tears and her hands shook, clasped in
Maria’s. “Aliens?”
“No, worse. The FBI Special Unit happened.” Maria wiped her wet
cheeks and tried to get it back under control. “They're picking up anyone
associated with Michael and the others. Anyone they could deem to be exposed.”
Laurie stepped back. “I’m…they would want me.” Laurie said it
so matter of fact that Maria could only nod.
“Yes. They would want to know why you're special. They would want to
explore the chromosomal anomaly that made you a target, and your grandfather a
donor of hybrid DNA. And they would want you for bait.”
Laurie led Maria to a sofa, and the girls sat close to each other.
“How much time is there?”
“Not much, Maybe none. I escaped. They’ll be looking for me.”
Laurie tried to remain calm. “We’re safe right now, but you’re
right. They'll come when they get desperate. Any small thread is better than a
cold trail. Let’s eat breakfast, and you can tell me everything,” Laurie
looked at Maria, and in that moment Maria saw the woman Laurie was becoming and
just how much she reminded her of Michael. “Maria, I mean everything.”
~~~
Presently, hours later…
Michael was on his second breakfast. Food hadn’t been big on his list
of things to do lately, and on his trip from Roswell to Reno, he ate next to
nothing. They all waited for him to finish. When he first started, Max started
asking him questions, but the best he could get were patented Michael grunts. So
after he finished, Michael sat back and drank his coffee.
“Now?” Max said with barely contained restrained impatience.
Michael nodded. It was going to be hard to hear, and harder to tell. It
was time to get it over and done.
It took a while, and when he was finished Kyle was away from the group
sitting on the side of the bed closest to the door, staring out the window. Liz
was crying softly, and Isabel was crying harder, deeper, and it hurt to hear
her. She kept whispering over and over that it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
Max just sat there, pale and staring at Michael in shock, disbelief and
horror. It was all on his face. Etched for all time. In the time it had taken
Michael to tell them what had happened after they left Roswell, Max had aged
over ten years. His face showed it. Haggard and drawn, he suddenly looked too
thin, hardly a King.
“I never…” Max couldn’t finish it. He couldn’t. Closing his
eyes, he let his mind wander to the past five to six months. They had been on
the run, but it had felt more like an adventure. A big road trip, with him
marrying Liz, and them laughing and enjoying being together unhindered. All he
could see now, were all the times Michael sat in the back brooding, not talking,
Isabel so unhappy, and Kyle silent. He and Liz had talked, laughed and gazed at
each other with carefree happy faces. They made a special code all their own to
talk about how they were going to find time alone and for sex.
Their friends had paid. Everyone paid for them. No one was happy. Only
he and Liz, but that was gone now, ripped away by reality. Future Max. Liz had
finally told them all about what his future self had said. That their being
together ended the world, because once they were together, they became so
wrapped up in each other…they ignored everything else, everyone else. That
everyone they knew paid the price for their happiness and died because of them.
It was supposed to be different. Destiny had been changed. Or had it?
He was with Liz, they were idiotically happy, and nothing meant
anything except that they could be together. Not their parents suffering in the
White Room. Not Jesse dying. Not Maria being tortured and now lost and alone.
Why should it? It hadn’t mattered that Alex died. All that had ever mattered
was that he, Max, had Liz, and Liz had him. Everyone else could go to hell.
And they did.
His pride, his egotistic self-interest brought them to this. He was so
busy worrying about himself and Liz, he never once thought about those they left
behind who had been in direct contact with them. He never thought about how
interested the Special Unit would be in humans who mated with aliens. Thinking
back, only a fool wouldn’t have thought of it.
Max rubbed his face and rested his elbows on the table. He should have
thought of it. He should have known. The others couldn’t know. But he should
have. The White Room; he had lived through it, experienced it. He personally
lived face to face with the hate and fear on Pierce’s face, the disregard
Pierce had for innocents associated with him. Pierce had threatened to kill Liz.
He knew. He knew there was no safety for those associated with the aliens. No
one was safe.
How could he have forgotten that? How? Max hung his head in shame. He
had forgotten it because he didn’t want there to be a reason why he couldn’t
just leave with Liz. He didn’t want there to be any more responsibility
outside of him and her. So he left them behind.
Maria had been his friend for over three years. No one risked more than
she did, or had been as loyal. She was there practically from the first moment
Liz knew their secret. And everything she did, all the times she put herself out
there for them, it never meant anything. They never once thanked her, or gave
her consideration. That was all given to Liz. Why? Because he was King and Liz
was his chosen mate. Maria…well, she was associated only by the privilege of
being Liz’s friend, or Michael’s girlfriend. Nothing more, but she had
deserved more. Jesse...Max could possibly excuse himself for . But not Maria.
She wasn’t a stranger. She was someone to all of them, or she should have
been.
God.
They had got in the van and drove away without a thought or care. They were
never coming back. It was not like going to college or moving to another town.
They knew they could never contact anyone in Roswell again. They should have
realized that when they drove away from Maria it was forever. That in itself
should have hurt, or pained, and it was another blot on their record that it did
not. Max looked over at his wife. Liz should have felt the pain of that
separation. More than the others, Liz had a lifetime of friendship invested in
Maria. God.
All these thoughts were running through Max's mind, and for the first
time since before he left Roswell and married Liz Parker, he couldn’t look at
his wife. He didn’t even want to look at himself.
~~~
Liz’s entire body hurt. Crying softly, she thought of her parent’s
care package, how impersonal it was, and how everything they sent was from
storage. The FBI had confiscated her entire room. They found the journal. The
journal that had signed people’s death warrants. Liz shut her eyes and groaned
in pain. Michael had been right. Long ago when he stole the journal, he had
implied that it was dangerous to keep a written record. She, at that time was an
idiot. She not only kept a journal, but she sat in the Crashdown writing in it,
like it wasn’t a big deal. Great guardian of the alien secret was she! Max had
thought it was interesting that she was keeping a journal about him, and them.
He was flattered, and god help her, she had felt special too when Michael gave
it back and told her that she gave him another reason to envy Max Evans.
That had made her feel special. Like somehow Michael Guerin thought she
was worth knowing and wanted her in some way. Wanted her enough to envy Max and
it shamed her to realize that she always believed that Michael had a thing for
her, and only settled for Maria.
Liz cried even harder. Her thoughts betrayed her, showing how conceited
and self-serving she had become. Maria wasn’t second best in Michael’s life.
She had been everything to him. Maria had been Liz’s best friend for a
lifetime and a sister, but it was hard to admit how satisfying it had felt to be
thought important by the aliens, when Maria wasn’t. She remembered how happy
she had felt when the fortune teller told her that Max would choose love, and
that her love was special…destined, while Maria was fretting over having only
forty-eight hours of happiness with Michael, and Alex was doomed to be only a
friend. She was proud and happy that she was the special one.
It always came down to that, Being special, Feeling special. She had
accused Maria of being jealous because her life wasn’t in danger. Not true. It
wasn’t that. But at the time she remembered how important she felt to be on
the endangered list, and how Max had proposed to her. It was embarrassing to
realize how smug and self-important she had felt. Queen. Max was King, and that
made her Queen; Important. Treasured. Special. Liz cringed, hearing her own
voice saying, “Max is King.” Oh God, how nasty and smugly self-serving that
had to sound to the others! Like she, Liz Parker, wouldn’t be with a nobody,
and of course her love was a King.
It was worse. She had left Maria. It wasn’t like going to college.
Maria tried to make her understand that, but she blamed her for being jealous.
She wanted Maria jealous. Oh God! Maria had seen it! Their leaving wasn’t like
going to college or relocating. It was permanent. Forever. No "See you
during Spring break!" No "I’ll call you! We’ll keep in
touch!" She climbed in that van with the others and without a look back,
left her best friend and sister of a lifetime as if it were nothing.
Liz sank her head on her knees and rocked herself a little. Even her
parents, a lifetime of love, and she reciprocated with lies, disregard and
disdain. She made them send her to Vermont, and despite the cost, came home
immediately, throwing away that money as if it was nothing. But she had Max
Evans back, and that was all that had mattered. Liz rolled over on the bed and
hugged her legs tight to her body, crying. There was so much more. There were so
many other actions that seen in today’s hindsight, shamed her. When had she
changed? Maybe she had always been that prideful and self-centered.
All the times she had performed so-called selfless acts, she could also
name rewards she had received because of them. Was a selfless act just a step to
greater rewards? Had she done them to promote her image of being a good person?
Make the aliens think she was deserving of their gratitude, so she could stay
important not only in Max’s life, but all of theirs?
Her parents interrogated and tested. Her mother almost died from a
heart attack, and now was sick and weak with a strained heart. Alex dead and
forgotten; it was almost as if he hadn’t existed. Maria tortured and left
alone. Slapped down by all of them, implying she was nothing, and left to bear
the brunt of their existence. Even Tess! She was their convenient scapegoat.
When things went wrong, it was easy to blame Tess for everything, because even
if accidentally, Tess had killed Alex and she had tried to kill the others by
taking them home to Antar.
But how much that went wrong could actually be accredited to Tess, and
how much was her own fault? How often did they scream ‘mindwarp’ to explain
away their own bad choices, ones they didn’t want to be held accountable for?
Supposedly Michael and Isabel were destined to be together, someone of their own
kind, and not once did they even consider Destiny. Not once was the line
crossed, not even a kiss, or a look, ever.
Because Michael was in love with Maria, and though he believed he could
never have her, for him there could never be anyone else. Isabel’s heart was
totally free of intimate feelings for Michael so that when Jesse came, she had
no problem loving him. All that stood in her way were her feelings for Alex.
Liz couldn’t think about it. She didn’t want to, because she was
afraid. The answer might be that she and Max were really to blame. Guess it
didn’t matter what world or timeline they followed, their friends would always
be forgotten. Even Future Max came back to warn her, to change things. Did he
mention Maria or Alex? No, he only mentioned Michael, Liz and Isabel. What a
nice position she had created for herself. She and the aliens were an exclusive
club.
Maria. Where are you? Do you still want to know me? Will you ever
forgive what I became, or did you always see me as this monster I am?
Liz cried some more. Guilt and a burdened conscience were terrible
things. They made a person rethink what came before from a very unique view. Liz
hated herself.
~~~
Isabel hated Liz too. For Jesse, she and Liz could share the blame. Liz
wrote down all the truths about Jesse killing Agent Burns. All the details of
him and her disposing of the body were written down for the enemy to exploit.
How little was their regard for Jesse, even knowing he had killed to protect
them. He had killed one of Special Unit. Would they have let him go once they
knew he was still human if they hadn’t known about Burns? It was hard to say.
Yes, she hated Liz Parker. She couldn’t even think of her as Liz
Evans. She would always be Liz Parker. Yes, she hated Liz Parker with a passion,
but not as much as she hated herself. No. The greater hate had to reside on
Isabel’s own shoulders. She rooted around in her purse. A picture, she had a
picture! Smiling slightly through the tears she held a picture of her and Jesse
on their wedding day. Jesse, honey... There
had to be a mistake. They had left him behind. He was still alive.
Isabel lay down on the bed and cleared her mind. Touching his face, her
fingers rushing across the picture, she tried to dreamwalk him. Jesse.
Let me in. Let me in. Let me in. It was a mantra over and over in her head.
Isabel tried for what felt like hours. Why hadn’t she tried earlier? Five
months. She should’ve visited him. She would’ve known he was in pain,
captured, tortured. She would’ve recognized the White Room.
Isabel calmed for a moment. Why hadn’t she tried to reach him?
She hadn’t reached for him because she was afraid to try.
Fear. She had left him. She had told him to forget her. And what if he
did? What if she walked into his dreams to find they were full of a new woman,
someone not her? Worse, Isabel had been afraid that Jesse hated her. She had
been afraid that her Jesse regretted knowing her, loving her, marrying her.
How could he not? It cost him his life in a terrible agony from which
death had been a blessed relief.
Her parents, Alex, Maria, Maria’s mother, Jesse, pictures of those
left behind, those that sacrificed everything for them, flashed repeatedly
through her brain.
How many more were going to pay for what they were? Isabel sat up and
looked over at her brothers staring at each other. The room was silent. Kyle
wasn’t talking, but she knew he was thinking of his dad. How could he not?
~~~
“Amy, Maria’s mom, did she…did Maria get to say goodbye?”
Isabel asked quietly.
Liz just cried harder. Amy DeLuca.
She had to put that casualty out of her mind. She couldn’t even think about
it. How could Maria ever forgive the loss of her mother? Oh God! Liz suddenly
knew why her parents sent her the Bible. She had strayed so far from the person
she once had been - human. They knew that once she heard the truth, what had
happened to those permanently lost, to Maria, that she would feel so bereaved
that she would need something to help her. They sent her a Bible because they
couldn’t help her. Not anymore.
The wedding gift was it. There was nothing more to make a connection.
She was never to return home or contact them again. She had long ago chosen Max
Evans over everything else, over the lives of her friends, her parents, and even
over her own dreams. She had made her decision, and it was Max. Happily married,
she now had all that she had wished for…she had Max Evans. Death and ashes,
pain and betrayal were the cost others had paid for her ambitions to be
realized. It was too much. The price was too much.
Suddenly, Liz realized the truth that had eluded her all this time.
When Max Evans healed her, it changed her, but not for the better…she hadn’t
traded up. She hadn’t become superior…just less human. Rather, she had
traded down to something less than human. All this time, she thought being alien
was what was important, what made a person important. She had been wrong. Her
lack of insight came with a high price. Being human was more. Alien-kind had
nothing with which to recommend them.
~~~
Michael heard Isabel’s question. So it was time.
The initial horror and shock was wearing off. Now they would want
answers to their questions.
“Yes. She was there when Amy died. Maria stood beside the pod chamber
and watched them burn her mother’s body. She watched as the wind carried her
mother’s remains away.”
That was cruel. Michael felt cruel as he watched Isabel’s face become
grayer, and her eyes big in her head, dominated her lackluster expression.
“The children, the Christmas children.” Max said. His voice was dry
and brittle. The news clippings. He had told his father about the children, not
because he needed to know, but because he wanted his father to be proud of
him…realize that his being alien was a good thing.
“They’re gone. All of them were taken. Are they dead? I’m not
sure. But they'll be watched to see if they change like Liz. If they do, they'll
be tested.”
“They were better off dying of cancer like nature intended. It might
have been hard to see or watch, but at least it would’ve been natural and
their families would have their bodies. Now those families will always look for
their lost children, and never know why they were taken.” Kyle said bitterly.
Brody’s daughter was one of those children who would be taken. Max
looked down at his hands. His intentions had been honorable. Or had they? Even
Liz had questioned his motives. He had changed the natural course of things to
assuage his guilt. What would he have to do to feel better about Jesse, Amy,
their parents, and Maria?
Some days it sucked being an alien. Today was one of those days, and it
looked like it was going to remain true for a long time.
~~~
“My dad? You’re sure he's safe?” Kyle couldn’t believe it. He
was sick for home, lost, his dad taken. He should’ve been there. He was all
his dad had, only him, no one else. He should’ve stayed, but if he had they
would’ve taken him because of the journal. That damn journal!
“They think so.” Michael said kindly. Kyle hadn’t signed up for
any of this. He didn’t want to know the aliens, and for a long time hated
them, or specifically Max Evans. For an entire year he stayed clear of them,
except for Tess, who had also hurt him. So far the alien team was looking pretty
grim in the category of movers and shakers, people able to make friends and
influence others to great heights.
Kyle shook his head. “That’s not good enough! He needs to leave.
Now!”
Michael finally got up from his chair and went over to Kyle. Putting
his hand on his shoulder, he crouched down. “It has to be this way. It’s his
choice. Their choice. He has protectors. The Evans and the Parkers. They’re a
group now. They’ve taken our place. And as much as we kept them out of our
lives, they will keep us out of theirs.” Kyle nodded reluctantly as Michael
stood up and looked at the group.
“Feel bad. We deserve it. Our…we should have thought the situation
through from all angles, not just from our personal perspectives. We are to
blame, but it’s finished. Our
lives in Roswell are over. There is nothing for us there anymore. They asked me
to tell you the truth, not to punish you, or hurt you. They wanted you to know,
to teach you that actions have consequences, and someone has to be accountable.
But what they really want us to realize is that we can never go home, ever.
Roswell is off limits to us. There we can only bring more death and pain. That's
the burden we’ll all have to carry.”
“Maria! They really don’t know what happened to her?” Liz asked,
her one-time friend’s name sticking in her throat. It was almost as if she was
afraid to mention the name in case Michael lost control and struck out at her.
“She left.” Michael went to stand looking out the window. “Or they hope she did. No one wanted to think or believe that she was recovered by the Special Unit. That would’ve meant that Amy’s death was meaningless. They wouldn’t even entertain the thought.” Michael turned and looked at them. “And neither will I. I believe she's out there, waiting for me to find her.” Michael’s voice was thick with emotion, but his face remained stone cold. “And I am going to find her and my child. What happened to her is my fault. I should have swallowed my broken pride and let her come with me like she wanted. But this is a lesson too. If Maria hadn’t been left behind, when wo