Disclaimer:  I don’t own any of the characters. Just borrowing them. Don’t sue, please.
Summery:  Story takes place in an alternate reality of Roswell.  To say anymore would give it away.
Warning:  Spoilers to the season finale episode "Departure."  Story actually picks up almost where "Departure" left off.  Also, spoilers to "Cry Your Name."
Warning 2:  I don't know much about how a hospital works; I don't even really watch ER much.  I made up a lot, so if you see any faults in this story, don't say I didn't warn you.

Liz’s hands still ached slightly from pounding on the stone wall of the cave and her throat was just a little sore from screaming out to her friends who were about to make the biggest mistake of their lives.  But none of that mattered now.  Max was back, and he was hers.  The granilith that would have taken him away from her was lying dormant inside the caves now, all its power used up in a final burst of energy that took her greatest nemesis from her life.

Max and Liz held each other as the last wisps of smoke dissipated above them.  The roaring subsided and a great still came over the desert.  A sense of freedom overwhelmed Liz.

Max looked down at her, and she in turn stared up at him, waiting.  She didn’t have to wait long.  “I've been really wrong about a lot,” Max confessed.  “But I was right about one thing: To get you into my life, to be around you, to love you.”  He ran his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head.  He pulled her to him, and just as she felt his lips on her forehead, something happened . . .

“Liz?  Lizzie, come back to us.”  The voice sounded distorted as though she were hearing it through water.  She vaguely recognized the voice as Maria’s, but a quick glance revealed Maria to be standing a few feet away, talking quietly to Michael.  “Lizzie.”

Her last fleeting thought was that it had all been a dream . . .

She had no idea.

Chapter One: The Awakening

Liz’s eyes fluttered open.  She heard a gasp, but all she could see was a harsh white tiled ceiling.  This wasn’t her room.  Where was she?

“Liz!” came the excited squeal over to her right.  She turned her head, with great effort, slightly toward the voice.

“Maria?” Liz said.  Her voice was rough and cracking as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.  But that can’t be right.  And why was Maria’s hair so short?  It barely touched her shoulders.

Tears were streaming down Maria’s cheeks and a hysterical sort of laughter bubbled up from her chest.  “You’re awake!” she cried.  Her hand flew to her mouth, and then flew back again, expressing the excitement that Maria could no longer contain.  “Mrs. Parker!!” Maria cried.

There was a pause and Maria heard feet pounding on the tiled floor.  Her mother’s face loomed before her.

“Oh, baby.  My baby.  You’re awake!”  Maria backed off a little to let Mrs. Parker see her daughter.

“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Liz said.  She was only able to form half the words with her still aching throat, but it was enough.  Her mom and Maria exchanged a meaningful look.

“Now don’t you worry about that now,” her mom murmured, running her fingers through Liz’s hair.  “You’re fine now.  Everything’s okay.”

If Liz thought she had the energy, she would have batted the hand away and demanded she be told what was going on.  But suddenly, she didn’t have the energy to keep her eyes open anymore.  They felt so heavy . . . Liz drifted off to sleep.

When Liz awoke again, the room was empty.  At least that’s what she thought at first.  A flash of movement directed her eyes to the window ledge.  An unfamiliar form was standing with her back to Liz.  She was slightly heavyset, wearing floral patterned jacket with elastic pulling the fabric close in the back and navy blue pants.  Her white threaded brown hair was pulled into an elaborate bun at the nape of her neck.  A nurse? Liz thought, accurately enough, for Liz knew by now that she was in a hospital, though why she had yet to guess.  The nurse, for now, occupied her attention.  She seemed to be rearranging the bouquets of flowers that were displayed on the window ledge.

“Hello?” Liz said, shakily.  Her voice was getting stronger with each use, but it still had a ways to go.

The nurse started, and turned to her.  “Land’s sakes, child.  You scared me,” she chided, but she smiled warmly at Liz.  She moved to Liz’s side.

“Are those for me?” Liz asked nodding toward the flower arrangements.

“Oh, yes,” the nurse replied.  “You have a lot of people wishing the best for your recovery,” she told Liz.

Liz’s eyes moved over the flowers, cards, and balloons.  There was one small vase of pale pastel flowers nestled between two larger flower bouquets.  Her eyes moved to them like someone in a trance.  “Who sent me those?” Liz asked, pointing vaguely at the small vase.

“These?” the nurse asked, pointing to a larger bouquet of roses.

Liz shook her head.  “That small vase there.”

The nurse seemed confused at first that Liz should gravitate first toward the smallest, seemingly least significant gift, but she didn’t comment.  She pulled the small card from its plastic holder, and handed it to Liz.

The note read “Liz, get well soon,” and was signed, “Your lab partner, Max Evans.”

Your lab partner?  Liz was confused.  They hadn’t been lab partners since last year in Biology.  Things weren’t adding up.  How did she go from being in the desert with Max to suddenly waking up in the hospital?  Why was Maria’s hair so short?  Why did she have this vague feeling of unease about everything?

“How long have I been here?” Liz asked the nurse.

The nurse picked up the clipboard that hung on the edge of Liz’s bed.  She glanced quickly at her large digital watch on her wrist, paused for a moment to do a little math, and told her, “Oh, about two months.”

“Two months!” Liz repeated incredulously.

“You’ve been in a coma, lass,” the nurse told her gently.  “Now try to get some rest.”  She slipped out the door before Liz could probe her any further.  Two months . . . she thought.

Liz tried to sleep, to rest at least, like the nurse had told her, and she did manage to doze every now and then, but her mind was still bristling with the latest news.  She kept coming awake again with another disturbing thought.  She had been in a coma for two months, and she had no idea how she came to be in this situation.  She had abruptly gone from one reality, being in the desert with Max, to another, waking up in a hospital.  Had something terrible happened to her, and her mind, instead of facing reality, chose to create what should have happened next?  Were they in an accident on the way over to the desert?  Did it happen so quickly Liz’s mind couldn’t handle it, and she imagined the whole scene where Max, Michael and Isabel returned from the caves, back into their lives?  Liz started to panic.  If that were true, then Max is gone!  He would be back on his home planet by now!

Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought.  Maria.  She needed to talk to Maria.  Through blurred vision, Liz saw a phone on the nightstand next to her.  It didn’t occur to her to wonder why a coma patient would need a phone, or the TV on the wall for that matter, as it normally would have.  Instead she followed the instructions on the phone and punched in Maria’s number, her hands shaking slightly with the effort.  The phone felt unusually heavy in her hands.

Maria picked up in just a few rings.  “Hello?”  Her voice sounded heavy with sleep.

“Maria!  It’s me, Liz!”

“Liz?  It’s four o’clock in the morning,” Maria groaned.

“Is it?”  Liz was taken aback for a moment, before she remembered the importance of her call.  “Maria, I need to talk to you.  You need, like, to focus for just a minute.  Please.  I’m so incredibly sorry to be calling so late, but please . . .” she begged again.

“All right, all right,” Maria said.  Her voice sounded a little more alert, and for that Liz was grateful.

“I need to know what happened to me.  The doctors won’t tell me.  What happened to put me in a coma?”  And did you get there in time to stop Max? was the question that Liz was too scared to ask.  Are Max and Michael and Isabel still here?

“Liz, don’t you remember?” Maria said.  She paused.  “You were shot.”

Liz nearly dropped the phone.  Shot?

“Wh-Who?” she stammered.  She suddenly felt cold all over.

“They don’t know yet.  Two big guys who got into a fight at the Crashdown.  Sheriff Valenti’s still investigating.”

For a moment, Liz couldn’t move or speak.  “Maria, what’s today?” she asked on impulse.

“Huh?”

“What day is it?  What’s the date?”

“Um, the 20th of November, I think.”

She was scared to ask.  “Of what year?”

“Year?  Liz, it’s 1999.”

This time, Liz did drop the phone.  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

Chapter Two: Impossible

Liz could hear Maria’s voice through the phone where it lay on the floor, but she couldn’t make herself move to pick it up.  Her mind was racing.  November 20th.  Minus two months.  That makes . . . September 20th.  Right around the time when Liz was shot and healed at the Crashdown.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered again.  Max never healed her.  It had all been a dream.  A scream welled up in her throat, but she uttered no sound . . .

The next morning when Liz woke up, she was convinced instead that the night before had been a dream.  Of course it couldn’t possibly be the year 1999.  A person can’t just dream two years of her life.  That’s impossible.  No, there was a logical explanation to all this.  She just had to wait and find it.

Satisfied with that vow, Liz decided to make the best of her situation for now.  Her entire body felt weak and heavy.  The doctor who had come in to check up on her that morning explained that this was because her muscles hadn’t been used in two months and had weakened as a result.  There would be a lot of physical therapy to go through, he told her.  It would start today, along with a visit to the hospital psychiatrist later in the afternoon.  It was standard procedure for a coma patient to visit the psychiatrist upon awakening, he had assured her.  The stress of realizing that you had lost months or years of your life can be hard, and the psychiatrist would just help her deal with that.

A nurse, not the one she had talked to yesterday, wheeled her breakfast into the room.  She was young and pretty, so young in fact that for a moment Liz wondered if she was just a candy striper.  Her curly black hair was pulled back away from her face, and a dimple on her left cheek stood out when she smiled her greeting at Liz.

“’Morning,” she said.  She left the tray of food on the cart as she helped Liz move the bed into more of an upright position so that she could eat.  Eventually, Liz reasoned that she would be a pro at working the bed.  But for now, all the dials and knobs confused her.  The nurse left her to her breakfast of runny eggs and soft buttered toast.  Liz’s mind was racing.  She should have asked the nurse what the date was, but it was too late now.  Besides, Liz was certain that that had all been a dream anyway.  She had just woken up from a coma.  Strange dreams like that were normal, weren’t they?

Going to work the next morning, Maria DeLuca had a little extra bounce to her step.  Not even crabby customers, difficult cooks, and a broken shake machine could kill her mood.  Her best friend in all the world was going to be okay.  For the past two months, Maria had lived with the constant fear that Liz might never wake up.  They had shared so much of their lives together that the thought of a world without Liz Parker seemed cold and bleak to Maria.  She shivered at the thought even now.  Without Liz, her life seemed off-balance and tiltering out of control.  But now she had emerged from the coma that had closed her off from everyone who loved her, and Maria couldn’t be happier.

As the day wore on, though, her bubble of excitement grew a leak, and slowly the elation that had her walking on air drifted away.  As the initial excitement wore away, Maria became aware of some strange, disturbing feeling, one that she couldn’t put her finger on.

There was that strange phone call from Liz last night.  Maria couldn’t really remember too much about it; just that Liz had asked what had happened to her.  She also had a strange reaction to finding out the date.  In fact, she had dropped the phone and Maria couldn’t get a hold of her again after that.  Maria, still being half-asleep, had hung up at that point.

But that wasn’t what was bothering Maria.  While she was ecstatic about Liz waking up, something was still wrong.  Maria had expected a huge weight to be lifted from her shoulders as soon as Liz was okay again, but some of the weight still remained, and Maria didn’t know why.  Liz was awake; she was going to be fine.  Why did the world still seem to be off-balance?

Liz’s strange “dream” was forgotten until much later that afternoon, when Liz was wheeled into Dr. Peterson’s office on the floor beneath hers.  She was a long way away from walking on her own power, or even pushing the wheelchair herself, but the therapy she had started that morning should soon remedy that.  She had had no idea how weak her muscles really were until she had tried, under the physical therapist’s careful guidance, simple tasks like sitting up on her own.

The psychiatrist’s office was empty, but the nurse who had taken her there assured her that the doctor would be in soon.  For now, Liz took the time to look around the room.  There was a distinctly masculine feel to the room, from the mahogany desk to the bronze statue of a man on a horse.  Weathered hardback book lined a small shelf against one wall, and another bookcase was filled with miscellaneous book, papers, and magazines. 

“Elizabeth Parker?”

Liz jumped at the deep voice calling her name.  She turned to find a large man with a salt and pepper beard and horn-rimmed glasses standing in the doorway, a notebook tucked under his arm.  His stripped tie was loose around his neck and his brown sports coat looked as though it had seen better days.  He walked to his desk and began flipping though his notebook as he sat down.

“Liz,” she corrected his earlier greeting.

“Hmm?” he said, still flipping.  When he found what he was looking for, he looked up at Liz and clicked his pen open.

“I like to go by Liz,” she explained.

“Ah.  Yes.  Well, you can call me Dr. Peterson.  I’ll be your psychiatrist for now.”

“How long will I be seeing you?” Liz asked.

“For as long as we both think is necessary.  You’ve been through a traumatic experience.  I’m just here to help you deal with that.”

“Being in a coma, you mean?” Liz asked.

“Yes, as well as the events that led to the coma, and the disorientation upon waking up.”  He paused.  “Tell me, what was your first response upon waking from the coma?” he probed.

Liz thought about it for a moment.  “I didn’t really know what to think.  I wasn’t awake for very long before I fell asleep again.”  She paused as something occurred to her.  “I did have a strange dream last night, though,” she told him.

“Oh?”  Dr. Peterson made an encouraging gesture for her to continue.

“I dreamed,” Liz began, but had to pause as she laughed at the memory of it and her reaction.  “I dreamed that I called Maria – she’s my best friend – and she told me that, uh . . .”  She stopped as she tried to think how to word it without sounding silly and stupid.  “She told me that it was November of 1999, and that I had been shot at the Crashdown, where I work.”

The doctor shuffled through some papers on his desk.  “And this dream concerned you?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Why?”  He looked up at her over the top of his glasses.

“Why?”  She laughed nervously.  “Because would have meant that the last two years of my life never happened.  That event that she was talking about.  Me being shot-”  She stopped and corrected herself.  “When it looked like I was shot.  That happened two years ago, nearly.  Not two months ago.”

He scribbled something quickly in his notebook before turning back to the pile of papers.  “So the dream was strange because your friend, Maria was it, had the dates wrong?”  More flipping.  Liz wondered if he was given information about her case before hand and was just now starting to look at it.  She would have given anything at that moment to see those papers.

“Yeah,” Liz said.  “I mean, it couldn’t possibly be the year 1999, could it?  I mean, that’s just ridiculous.  But I suppose, being so disoriented, like you said before, I did believe that for a while.  When I woke up it even took me a while to realize it had all been a dream.”

Dr. Peterson sat up a little farther in his seat, suddenly intrigued by what she was saying.  “What do you think the date is?” he asked.

“I’ve been in the coma for two months.  I guess that would make it July, 2001.”

The doctor looked at her for a moment.  Without a word, he reached over to the corner of his desk and handed her the page-a-day calendar.  Beneath the black and white Far Side cartoon, read “November 20th.  And beneath that, in small print were the numbers, 1999.

Liz just stared for a moment.  She knew she must look pale and wide-eyed staring dumbly at that page, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from it.  “That’s impossible,” she whispered to herself.

Max Evans slipped onto a stool at the counter of the Crashdown Café.  For the last two months, he’d been making it his weekly ritual to stop in for a Blood of Alien smoothie and, of course an update of Liz’s condition.  His sister, Isabel, had tagged along with him this time, and she sat primly in the stool next to him, patting down her perfectly styled blond hair.

He heard faint whistling coming from the back kitchen.  Jeff Parker burst through the swinging door, an unusually broad smile on his face.  “Max!  Isabel,” he greeted.  “What can I get for you?  The usual?”

Max nodded.

“Isabel?”

“The same, please,” Isabel requested.

Max normally waited until he was nearly ready to leave to inquire about Liz, but something in the way her father was acting made him ask a little early.  “How’s Liz doing?” he said.  “Any change?”

“I’ll say,” Mr. Parker said.  “She’s awake.”

“Awake?” Max repeated, surprised.  “When?”

“Yesterday afternoon, when Maria was visiting her,” Mr. Parker informed him.  “Wait!  Max, where are you going?” he said when Max stood.

“Cancel the smoothie, Mr. Parker.  I have some things I need to do.”  He grabbed his jacket off the stool beside him.  Mr. Parker nodded absently, already distracted by a new customer.

“Where are you going, Max?”

Max stopped at the sound of his sister’s voice.  “I’m going to visit Liz,” he told her, pulling on his jacket.

“Max . . .”  There was a note of warning in her voice.

“Don’t worry.  I remember.”

The bells on the front door chimed gently as Max left, and for a moment Isabel watched as he disappeared from view through the big glass window.  “You better,” she whispered to herself.

“Why is that impossible, Miss Parker?  Why do you think it’s the year 2001?”

Liz stared up at him.  “Because I lived those two years!”

Dr. Peterson narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to follow her path of thinking.  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”  He paused.  “What’s the last thing you remember before waking up?”

Liz tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as she always did when she was nervous or worried about something.  “I, uh, I was in the desert, with my friends.”

“And what were you doing in the desert?”

Since Liz couldn’t very well tell him the truth, she racked her brain for a logical, non-alien excuse for being in the desert.  “We were exploring, you know.  My friend, he found some caves off the interstate, and we were just . . . exploring them.”  The excuse sounded pathetic even to her.  Liz was sure that the psychologist must be able to see through her lie, but he would never guess the real truth, and for that Liz was satisfied.  “It happened.  I know it did,” Liz told him, because she knew what he was going to say next.

He said it anyway: “Coma patients often have very vivid dreams.  And sometimes people confuse dreams with reality.  You understand the difference between dreams and reality?”

Liz shook her head violently.  “You don’t understand.  This is the dream!” she wailed.  “This isn’t real!  It can’t be.”  It would make my entire existence a lie if those two years didn’t happen.  Suddenly, Liz felt herself tiltering on the edge of despair, a great abyss having opened itself before her and the ground was now slipping away beneath her feet.  She had trouble breathing.

“Miss Parker, I need you to calm down.”

Liz tried to focus her eyes on the doctor’s face, but they kept darting away, looking beyond, searching for something, anything, that might make the world right again.  Finally, she closed her eyes and with all her will power brought her wayward emotions in check.  She breathed deeply in and out, and finally felt a calm settle over her.

“You’ve had a stressful day,” the doctor’s soothing voice told her.  “I understand that.  I think we should stop for today, but I would like to see you again.  We obviously have a lot of issues to cover.  Perhaps things will be clearer tomorrow.”

Liz wanted to argue some more, but she saw it would be useless.  Instead she nodded faintly.  “Perhaps,” she repeated softly.

An hour later, Liz was back in her hospital room.  The novel, Little Women, a favorite of hers since she was a girl, lay open on her chest.  Her mother had bought it over when she and her father had visited that afternoon.  Maria hadn’t been there, much to Liz’s dismay; she needed to talk to her friend now more than ever.

After her parents left, she had attempted her read her book, but soon her eyes grew heavy, and the effort of holding up the old hardback book was too much.  So Liz now lay, drifting between wake and sleep, trying desperately not to think about how much her life had gone wrong in the last 24 hours.

The sound of movement in her room brought her fully awake.  Her eyes fluttered open.  Max Evans stood with her back to her, reaching for the vase of flowers he had given her.  They were wilting now, hanging limply over the edge of the vase.  Max cupped his hand over them.  A faint yellow glow appeared under his hand.  The flowers perked up, straightening and opening their petals.  Liz could only stare in wonder.  The world may have gone crazy, but one thing was still the same: Max Evans was an alien.

Liz must have made some sort of noise of surprise, for Max started and turned to her.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.  I’ll go.  I’m sorry.”  He started for the door, a blush warming his cheeks.

“No!” she said, more quickly than she meant to.  “No, wait, Max.  Please, stay.”  She smiled a little, to hide the sudden embarrassment she felt.  He was only her lab partner.  She had to remember that.  Everything they shared never happened.  A chill snaked up and down her arm at that thought.

“It gets lonely here sometimes,” she said, shyly, to explain her outburst.

“Okay.  How are you feeling?”  He took a step back in the room.

“Better,” Liz said, trying to make her voice sound upbeat.  Her heart was pounding wildly.  “It’s still a little weird, though.  You know, waking up and finding everything . . . different.”

Max nodded.  He still seemed to have trouble meeting her eye.  He was the same shy Max Evans Liz had known in the beginning.  Liz wondered if Max had even meant to find her awake at all.

“You know,” Liz started, “they haven’t really told me what happened to me.  Something about a shooting.  What do you remember?”  What happened, Max?  Why didn’t you heal me?

She seemed to have hit a sore spot with Max.  He shifted uneasily.  “I don’t know the details,” Max told her.  “I left right before it happened.  All I know is what I’ve been told.”

Liz nodded and made an encouraging noise for him to continue.

“Two men started a fight.  They were in Maria’s section I think . . .”

Liz nodded.  “I remember them,” she said.  “They were Maria’s customers; you’re right.  Go on.  What happened next?”

“The fight got worse.  One of them pulled a gun.  It fired and the stray bullet hit you, standing next to the counter.”

“Where were you at the time?” Liz was bold enough to ask.

“I had already left just seconds before.  I was down the street when I heard the shot fire.  By the time I got there, it was too late.”

Liz was intrigued by his word choice.  Too late for what?  To heal her?  Were there too many people around her by that time?  She opened her mouth to ask him to explain, but she was interrupted.

“Visiting hours are over, Mr. Evans,” the nurse from the day before warned Max.  Curious that she knew him by name, Liz thought.  Max murmured his goodbyes and left.

“Well, how are you today, Miss Parker?” the nurse asked, checking the equipment around her bed.  Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “I don’t believe we were properly introduced yesterday.  My name’s Ruby Ordaincia, but you can call me Ruby.”

Liz smiled politely, but her mind was on other things.  As Liz watched, Max disappeared around the corner and out of her life once more.  She swallowed hard as she watched him go.  Despair welled up in her and she fought to push it back down.  She would beat this thing.  She would set things right, somehow.

The next 24 hours moved slowly for Liz.  Her life was filled with the bleakness of the hospital and loneliness, amid the chaos of her own thoughts.  She adjusted well, considering.  Her physical therapist, who told her to just call him Tim, told her she was improving at an exceptional rate.  He guessed that she would be out of the hospital in just a week or two, though the therapy would last longer than that, with repeated visits to the hospital after she was released.  She longed to see Max again; he was never far from her thoughts.  Visiting hours seemed impossibly far away.

That afternoon, she met again with her psychiatrist, Dr. Peterson.  He was waiting for her this time, sitting behind his desk.  A bunch of papers were spread out before him, and he was so engrossed in his reading that he did not at first notice the nurse who had wheeled Liz into the room.  He seemed startled when the nurse called his name.

“Miss Parker,” he greeted, gathering up the papers on his desk and shoving them into a tan folder.  “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Better,” Liz said, more because she felt he expected that response than any truth to it.  Physically she was feeling better, stronger, but emotionally, she was still a wreck.  Time had taken away her only lifeline – denial.  As the hours passed she could no longer imagine that at any given moment, she would awake from this nightmare.  And while it had been nice to see Max yesterday, the difference in the way he treated her, almost like a stranger, was a painful blow.  She felt – no, she knew – that he loved her still, but secretly.  He was the same mysterious, shy Max Evans she had known before the shooting.  Her world had been turned upside-down and she was powerless to make it right, because if she believed everything she was told, the world she had known had never existed to begin with.

“Good.  Are you ready to begin?”

Liz nodded.

“All right, now, yesterday we talked about your dreams you had while in the coma, and your initial disorientation upon awakening.  We still, obviously, have issues to cover in that area, however, today I would like to take a step back.  I think first we need to explore the incident that lead to your condition.”  He paused.  “Tell me what you remember,” he said.

As best she could, Liz recounted the events that occurred the day of the shooting: Maria’s complaints about the men at the table, the shouting, the burning pain of the bullet.  As she reached that point, however, her voice began to trail off.

“You don’t remember anything after that?”

Yes! she wanted to shout.  I lived two years of my life!!  But instead, she shook her head, just slightly.  “No, that’s all.”

Something in his eyes told Liz that he didn’t believe her.  “You don’t remember the ride to the hospital?”  He held up the folder with the papers he had been looking at and waved it at her.  “It says here in this report that you were conscious, though delusional.”

She shook her head.

“I’m only here to help you Miss Parker.  I can’t do that if you aren’t completely honest with me,” he warned.

The doctor sighed in resignation, and choice a new topic.  “Who’s Max?”

“Max!” Liz repeated with surprise.  In her entire recounting of that day, she had never once mentioned his name.  “He’s just a boy from school,” she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders.  “He was – is, I don’t know – my lab partner in biology.”

“Was he there that day?”

“He might have been,” Liz allowed.  Liz was dying of curiosity about how the doctor knew about Max.  He didn’t heal her, and according to Max, didn’t even go up to her, and yet his name must have ended up in the reports anyway.  How?

“Might?”

“I think he was, yes.  I can remember my friend, Maria, making a comment about him.”  Max Evans is staring at you again.  And her own response, No way; Maria, that is so in your imagination.

“What is your relationship to him, aside from being lab partners?”

“We got along okay in school, but we didn’t – we didn’t really talk, you know, outside of class.  I barely know him, really.”  Liar, her heart screamed.

“While you were still conscious, you mentioned his name several times,” Dr. Peterson informed Liz.

“I did?” Liz said, not having to fake her surprise.  What else did I say?

“There’s nothing more to your relationship?” he probed.  He was obviously picking up on Liz’s secretiveness about the entire subject of Max.  Liz had learned to be a good liar, but perhaps she was not good enough.

“No,” Liz said, and then something occurred to her.  “Of course not; I had a boyfriend at the time.”

“Had?  You don’t anymore?”

Liz breathed a sigh of relief as the topic of conversation steered toward safer subjects.  “I haven’t heard from Kyle since that day.  I suppose we’re technically still together.”  She winced at the thought.  Until that moment, she hadn’t given Kyle Valenti a second thought.  He had been turning out to be a great guy since his turn-around after finding out Max was an alien, but now?  If it was only two month after the shooting, Kyle was still the same old Kyle she had known before.  A hotheaded jock who needed to be surrounded by his bully cronies.  And she was still his girlfriend.  She shuttered at the thought, suddenly ill at ease for an entirely different reason.

The doctor led her through some safer subjects, and she relaxed a little as Kyle was pushed out of her thoughts.  They talked about her parents and her job at the Crashdown.  Dr. Peterson seemed to be concerned that after this, Liz might be hesitant to go back to work, to go back to the place where she was nearly killed.  Liz, of course, rejected any suggestion of discomfort at the idea of going back.  However, she left just enough doubt for the doctor to pursue that ‘safe’ topic for a while longer.

After another five or ten minutes, the doctor once more brought the session to a closure.  A trill went through Liz as she realized that meant visiting hours were coming closer now.  She might be able to see Max again.  The second the thought went through her head, Liz felt a pain of guilt.  Of course, she wanted to see her parents as well.  She couldn’t imagine what they had been through the last two months.  And she really did need to talk to Maria if she could get her alone for a few minutes, but it was only the thought of Max that sent a shiver of excitement through Liz.

From her position behind the counter of the Crashdown Café, Maria groaned when she saw who had just slipped into a booth in her section.  As if my day isn’t bad enough already, she mentally grumbled, yanking a coffee pot from its warmer for another of her tables.  Well, Michael Guerin can just wait, Maria thought bitterly.  I have too many tables as it is.

A kid from the wrong side of the tracks who always appeared in rumpled clothes and messy, spiky hair, Michael had always given Maria the creeps.  Admittedly, there wasn’t any real reason for Maria to be uncomfortable around Michael.  He had never done anything to her.  Well, at least, he didn’t treat her any worse than anyone else.  His boorish, anti-social behavior seemed to have a soft spot only for Max and Isabel Evans, for reasons that entirely evaded all rational reasoning since on the surface they appeared as different as can be.  But today he was accompanied by neither Max nor Isabel, making it even worse for Maria, since the siblings’ presence usually had somewhat of a calming effect on Michael.  God, why couldn’t he have sat in Kitty’s section!  Is there no mercy at all in the Universe?  It was bad enough she was stuck here at the Crashdown pulling a double shift instead of visiting her best friend in the hospital.

When table 12 received refills on their coffee and table 14 got their check, Maria no longer had a reason to avoid that particular booth.  She made her way to the booth where Michael sat, fingers tapping impatiently upon the Formica tabletop.

“Cherry coke,” Michael said before Maria had a chance to even open her mouth.  That said, he ignored her completely and shoved aside the napkin holder that sat at inside edge of the booth, apparently looking for something, knocking over the saltshaker in his haste.

The guy has all the manners of a pig at trough, Maria thought to herself, with a slight shake of her head.  She spun on her heels and left Michael to his rummaging as she went to get his soda drink.  Out of the corner of her eyes caught a glimpse of the rough-edged teenager snatching a small bottle of Tabasco sauce off of the adjacent table.

This is going to be a long day . . .

Max wasn’t there later that afternoon, when her parents came bursting into her hospital room, silver and blue “Get Well Soon” balloons in tow, but none of that mattered to Liz when she saw who was behind them; every thought of Max left her mind.

“Alex!” she cried, already feeling the tears well up in her eyes.  When he was close enough, she opened her arms for a hug.  The tears escaped through her closed eyes as she held him tight.  She never thought she would see him again.

“Hey, hey,” Alex murmured against her ear, picking up on the intensity of Liz’s reaction to his arrival.  “Sorry I haven’t been to see you yet.  I was visiting my aunt, but I came as soon as I heard.”  He pulled away, and took a look at the tears that streamed down Liz’s face.  “Liz?  What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t stop grinning even through her tears.  She laughed.  “Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head.  “Everything’s perfect.  It’s great to see you, really.”

“You’re crying,” Alex said, concerned.

Liz quickly wiped the tears away and took a deep breath.  “It’s been a strange few days.  Sorry.”  Though she tried to contain it, she couldn’t stop the big, ridiculous grin from breaking out once more on her face.  Alex never died.  A weight she had forgotten about in the chaos of the last few days lifted from her shoulders.  Not for the first time since waking up, Liz wondered if it really had all been a dream.  The details of those two years were starting to get a little fuzzy.  The image of Alex’s funeral, previously so crystal clear and heartbreakingly tragic, seemed almost ridiculous now with Alex standing right in front of her, alive and well.

Alex shook his head.  “No, it’s okay.”  He handed her a cluster of daisies.  “I got you these.  Maria wanted to be here, too, but she had to work.”

“Sorry, Lizzie,” her father said.  “I tried to let her off so she could come, but Agnes is sick, and with you gone too, well, we’ve been understaffed lately.”

“That’s okay, Daddy,” Liz said.

At Liz’s request, her parents gave her an update on everything that had happened in the last two months.  Goosebumps appeared on her arm as some of the things they told her had a strange familiarity about them.  So the dream wasn’t just a dream after all, Liz thought.  It couldn’t have been, unless she suddenly grew psychic abilities.  How else could she have known about the orthodontist’s convention in late October that had the entire Crashdown staff in a frenzy with the tidal wave of customers it brought in?  How else could she explain why she knew exactly what it meant when her father started shifting uneasily as he neared the end of that story, and why she knew exactly what that look her parents exchanged meant?  The look, of course, had to do with her Grandmother, Claudia, who had passed away after having a stroke, right around the time of the orthodontist’s convention.  Her parents didn’t know how or when to break that news.  She wished she could tell them now that she knew and spare them the worry.  But then she would have to explain how she knew, and ever since Max Evans entered her life, explanations weren’t easy . . .

When Maria came back with a tall glass of Cherry Coke and a plastic straw, Michael was engaged in another task.  A spiral notebook lay in front of him on the table and he was flipping rapidly through the lined pages.  The flipping quickly stopped when he noticed Maria’s presence.  The notebook was closed almost before Maria could see its contents.  Almost.  The glance she got inside was quick but it was enough to reveal pencil sketches of figures and faces and some other unidentifiable forms, but Michael had not lingered long enough on any one page for Maria to deduce any more than that.  For the first time, Maria considered that maybe Michael was more than what he seemed.  The scowl on Michael’s face when she finally looked up at him made her reconsider that thought, though.  He obviously hadn’t meant for her to see even what she had.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Maria asked, ignoring the scowl and slipping into ‘waitress mode,’ though there was an annoyed edge to her voice that she usually hid from even the most obnoxious customers.

After a moment of quiet deliberation, Michael responded with, “Some Saturn Rings,” naming the Crashdown’s version of onion rings.

“Right,” Maria said, scribbling the request on her order pad.  She turned to put the order in to the cook, but halfway there something made her stop and turn back to look at Michael.  Yeah, something about the guy had always creeped her out, but suddenly Maria wondered if that was even the right word for what she felt in his presence.  ‘Disturbed’ might be a better word, but why?  What was it about Michael Guerin that bothered her so?

Maria never had a chance to contemplate the new idea for very long before several more tables filled in her section.  The dinner rush had begun.  When the Saturn Rings appeared in the window that divided the kitchen from the rest of the restaurant, Maria quickly snatched up the plate from underneath the heat lamp.  Breezing by Michael’s table, she plopped the dish down unceremoniously in front of him before running off to attend to her other customers.

A half hour later, Maria DeLuca stared in shock at the crumpled five-dollar bill left on the tabletop between two empty bottles of Tabasco sauce.  That’s almost more than his entire bill, Maria thought with wonder as she shoved the bill into her apron pocket.  A slow smile appeared on her face.  Michael Guerin was doing his best that day to surprise her, Maria mused.

After a while, her parents brought the visit to a close.  Her mother bent over to give her a quick kiss on her forehead, and her father squeezed her hand tightly.  They both said goodbye and left Alex alone with Liz for a moment.

“How are you really?” Alex asked, and Liz understood at once that he had never been fooled by her previous lies; he knew her too well.  He just hadn’t wanted to worry her parents.

Liz was quiet for a moment, deciding exactly how much to tell Alex.  “I’m fine, Alex.  Really, I am.”  When Alex looked away, a mixture of hurt and concern on his face, Liz immediately felt guilty.  “I had some strange dreams while I was asleep, and they felt so real that when I woke up I thought they really had happened.  That’s what I meant when I said I’d had a strange last few days.  That’s all.  Nothing to worry about.”

Alex smiled a little.  “I do worry about you, Liz.  You’re my best friend.”  He grinned, “So are you back in the world of the awake now?”

“I’m back,” Liz laughed.

“Good.  Cuz we’ve missed you.”

“We have,” a new voice chimed in.  Kyle Valenti walked into her room, a single red rose in his hand.

“Kyle,” Liz greeted.

Kyle handed her the rose, and bent over and kissed her quickly on the lips.  Liz cleared her throat and smiled through her discomfort.  “How’s my girl?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Liz said, getting sick of that question.  Suddenly she couldn’t wait until she was out of the hospital so that things could return to normal, if that was possible.

For the next few minutes, they chatted quietly about normal topics: Alex’s progress on the formation of his band, most of which was no surprise to Liz, as well as Kyle’s latest athletic feats.  Alex and Kyle shared jokes with her and news of the most recent cruelties the teachers and staff were inflicting on the students.  Liz could already see the thin bond that would bring them together as friends later, though they did not know it now.  She swallowed back the lump in her throat that formed at the thought of how Kyle had truly connected with Alex just in time to lose him.  But that never happened, Liz reminded herself sternly.  Stop acting as though it had.

She turned her thoughts instead to the situation with her and Kyle, an equally distressing thought.  She had never been very good at being cruel and heartless.  The last time she wanted to break up with Kyle, he had eventually provided the perfect excuse when his cronies had took it upon themselves to beat up Max, when they thought, accurately enough, that he was moving in on their friend’s girl.  How could she find a kind way now to tell Kyle that it was over?

Before she could finish that thought, Kyle and Alex brought the visit to a close, with promises to come back and see her again soon.  She received a hug from both and a quick kiss on the cheek from Kyle before they said goodbye.

She glanced at the clock.  Visiting hours lasted for another twenty minutes.  Her heart leapt at the idea.  Maybe . . . she thought, but refused to finish the idea.

In the end, Liz was disappointed.  Max hadn’t made an appearance.  Nor had anyone else shown up in those last lonely twenty minutes.  She tried not to be too upset at the idea.  After all, she was able to see Alex, a face she never thought she’d lay eyes on ever again.  Yet the disappointment remained, and she slept fitfully that night.

Something was bothering Max, Isabel realized subconsciously as she brushed her teeth before going to bed for the night.  She was startled at first by that thought before she began to pick up the soft strains of the song “Colorblind” by Counting Crows coming from the room across the hall.  Only then did she realize the source of that thought; Max only listened to Counting Crows when something was really bothering him.

Isabel didn’t know what was going on with Max, but she knew one thing.  Whatever it was, it had something to do with Liz Parker and the shooting that occurred two months ago.  Max had never really gotten over that, though he hid it well from both Michael and Isabel, and ever since he got back from that visit at the hospital yesterday, Max had been even quieter and more withdrawn than usual.

Though she may not always show it, Isabel loved her brother and worried about him.  Immediately after Liz was shot at the Crashdown, Isabel saw how torn up Max had been; his secret love, the girl he’d had a crush on since the moment he laid eyes on her, had almost died.  But Max had almost committed the ultimate betrayal of Michael and Isabel by healing her.  Fortunately, something, Isabel never knew what, had stopped Max.  Afterwards, Isabel and Michael had made Max promise that nothing like that would ever happen again, that he would never again risk exposing them all by trying to use his powers in public.  It was against the rules Max himself had created for the trio, and Michael and Isabel were still shocked to this day that Max had been the first to try to break those rules in such a dramatic way.

Isabel’s heart still pounded wildly at the mere thought of what would have happened if Max been able to heal Liz.  Visions of government agents and dissection tables flashed through her head.  It would have been her worst fear come true.  They would have had to leave their home and their family forever.  Still, her heart couldn’t help but reach out to her lost brother.  He hadn’t been the same since that day.

As the ending cords of “Colorblind” faded away, a new song took its place.  It was yet another Counting Crows song, “Long December.”  Finishing up her business in the bathroom, Isabel made her way to her brother’s room.  She found Max there asleep on the top of his comforter, still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing that day.  Isabel switched off the music and pulled a thin blanket from the foot of his bed and tucked it around Max as he slept.

It was only halfway down the hallway that Isabel realized the opportunity that had been presented to her.  She had never tried dream walking on either Max or Michael before, but realistically there was no reason that it shouldn’t work just as easily with them as it did with human counterparts.  Besides, this was an emergency.  She felt a desperate need to know exactly what was going on with her brother.  Something told her that the danger had not yet passed.

Back in her room, Isabel grabbed the picture frame off her nightstand.  She laid down on her bed and tried to get comfortable.  She brushed her hand across the image of Max’s face, concentrating hard.  Soon, the image rippled beneath her hand.  She had made it.

Isabel recognized the Crashdown’s gaudy alien-themed decorations instantly.  She looked around the busy Café.  Max and Michael sat in one of the booth, a pile of empty Tabasco sauce bottles sitting on the edge of the table.  Max snuck a love-struck glance at the waitress with bobbing alien antennas and the silky brown ponytail.  The girl in question, Liz Parker, glanced in Max’s direction before turning back to Maria, who stood nearby, talking to her as she poured a couple of coffees.  The two friends parted as both went to tend to their tables.

A shattering of glass drew Isabel’s attention to the side booth, and her earlier suspicions were confirmed.  Max was dreaming about the day of the shooting.  Maria called out Liz’s name, panic in her voice.  Isabel glanced between the two men, one of whom had now pulled a gun, and Liz’s entranced expression as she watched the same scene unfold.  The two men struggled for possession, the dining tourists dropped to the ground in fear, but Liz and Isabel could only watch.  The gun fired.  Liz fell.  The two men fled the scene.

“Liz.”  Maria crawled toward Liz, calling her name.  Only Liz’s legs and sneakered feet could be seen from behind the counter.

Isabel looked at the booth where Max had been sitting with Michael.  A look of sheer terror passed over Max’s face.  He rose, his eyes never leaving the place where Liz now lay, not even when Michael put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.  “What are you doing?  Let go of me,” Max said, allowing Michael only the briefest of glances as said the words.

“Max, what are you gonna do?” Michael asked, but it was too late.  Max had already slipped past him and was heading for Liz.

“Call an ambulance,” he told Maria, yanking her back.

Max knelt in front of the fallen girl, and ripped open the front of her waitress uniform.  Blood pooled on her stomach below her bellybutton, and Max grimaced at the sight.  “It’s going to be okay,” he told her.  Her eyes were closed and she didn’t respond.  “Liz . . . Liz . . . You have to look at me.  You have to look at me.”  When she finally did open her eyes, they were glazed over from shock and pain, but it was enough of a response for Max.

Just as Max started to rest his hand on her bare stomach and began to form the connection that would save her life, someone came up to him from behind, grabbing Max’s shoulders.  A small hand pushed Max away from Liz.  “No, Max,” she said.  Blond curls framed a delicate cherub face, and sky blue eyes looked pleadingly down at Max.  “Don't,” was all the mysterious girl would say before slipping off into the crowd that Michael had been trying to hold at bay a few feet from the scene.  Whatever connection Max had formed with Liz was broken, leaving the healing incomplete.

At that point, Liz’s father shoved his way through.  He gently pushed Max aside, before Max could utter a word of protest.  Isabel stared at the place where the blond had disappeared.  She now finally knew what had caused Max to stop that day.  Neither Max nor Michael had mentioned the girl before in their recounting of the events of the day.  Isabel thought that was strange, but her attention was soon returned to the girl on the floor.

Liz began to mutter incoherently, even as the ambulance showed up, and she became surrounded by the Emergency Medical Technicians.  “. . . just spilled ketchup,” she mumbled. 

“What, honey?” Mr. Parker asked, hovering behind the EMT’s.

“I’m fine . . . spilled . . . ketchup . . . Max . . .”  Liz was lifted onto a stretcher, still muttering softly.

“Max who, sweetie?” Mr. Parker asked, grabbing onto her hand as she was wheeled to the ambulance.

“Max,” Liz whispered, her eyes foggy and unseeing, but still searching the air above her for something . . . someone.

Isabel turned her attention back to Max.  He was staring at Liz, who looked so pale and delicate on the stretcher, with a grief-stricken look on his face.  Michael laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Let’s go,” he said, but Max didn’t seem to hear.  He looked back at the place where Liz had fallen.  Isabel followed his gaze.

She was shocked at what she saw there.  A different story was playing simultaneously with the first, one in which Max was never interrupted.  This Max’s face was full of strain and concern as he kept his hand on Liz’s stomach.  Liz jerked and gasped beneath his healing touch.  When it was over, she stared at Max in wonder.

“You’re all right now.  You’re all right,” Max told her.  He grabbed a bottle of ketchup from the shelf above him and broke it on the edge of the shelf.  He spilled its contents on Liz’s bare stomach.  “You broke a bottle when you fell, spilled ketchup on yourself. Don't say anything please . . .”

Both scenes faded away.

When Isabel turned around, she was no longer in the Crashdown Café.  Instead she seemed to be in the band room, which was at first seemed empty and dimly lit.  Liz’s voice drew her attention to one end of the room, “So help me out here, Max.  I mean, what are you?”

What are you? Isabel thought, feeling sick to her stomach.  It was worse than she had thought; Max was thinking about telling Liz who he really was.

“Well, I’m not from around here,” Max responded evasively.

“Where are you from?” Liz asked, almost looking like she didn’t really want to know.

Max didn’t say anything this time.  He just pointed up with his index finger.

“Up North?”

Oh, Max, Isabel thought as Max pointed higher.

Liz didn’t respond for a moment, deep in thought.  When she did finally speak, she sounded like she didn’t want to believe what she was saying.  “You’re not an, an alien, I mean.  Are you?”

“Well, I prefer the term not of this earth,” Max joked weakly.

The moment seemed frozen in time as the two stared at each other in silence.  Max’s voice whispered, now my life is in your hands, but his mouth didn’t move.

So when you healed me, you risked all of this getting out, didn’t you?  Liz’s voice this time.

Yeah.

Why?

It was you . . .

A kaleidoscope of images flashed before Isabel’s eyes.  To Isabel, they seemed more like memories than dreams, and she was right.  They were images from a life that never happened . . .

*FLASH*

Max and Liz on a date, playing billiards.  Liz murmuring advice to Max as she played like a pool shark.

“Very nice,” Max complimented.

*FLASH*

Max in the street with Liz at night, acting like Isabel had never before seen him.  “Let’s just keep running, you and me, away from here, away from everything.”

Was he drunk? Isabel wondered.

“When I’m not with you . . . I go crazy.”

*FLASH*

Max asking Michael for advice about Liz.  “How’d you do it with Maria?  I mean, how did you stop?  I can’t stop thinking about Liz . . .”

Maria?  Isabel was confused.  Maria DeLuca? Michael and Maria . . . together?

“Maxwell, you’ve gotta be strong,” Michael told him.

*FLASH*

Liz, at the Crashdown, walking up to Max and Michael, grin on her face.  She set a tall glass of soda down in front of Max.  “Cherry Cola.  On the house,” she said, smiling flirtatiously.

Maria stood behind her, a scowl on her face as she held her own glass of Cherry Coke.  Michael shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

*FLASH*

Maria kissing Michael softly.

“Mud,” Michael muttered, pulling away.

“What?” Maria said, taken aback.

“Mud.  I’m thinking about mud.”

Maria looked exasperated.  “What do I even try?” she asked herself.

*FLASH*

Alex putting his hand on top of hers.  “Look,” he was saying, “you said that you were ready for a relationship.  Whatever’s going on now, I know that you meant it.  I know that it was real.”

“It was.  It was real,” Isabel said.

“I’ll be here when you need me,” Alex told her solemnly.

*FLASH*

Liz and Max making out in the jeep in a secluded woodsy area.  “Do you mind missing the movie?” Liz asked.

“I heard it got bad reviews,” Max murmured in reply.

*FLASH*

It was only at the last scene that it slowed down long enough for Isabel to truly get a sense for what was happening.  It was nighttime.  Max and Liz were in an over-turned van that appeared as though it had been sitting in that spot for quite a while.  Liz was standing a few feet away from Max looking as though she were hearing the last thing in the world she wanted to hear.  Max glanced up at her from where he sat, a pained, haunted look on his face.  Both seemed as though they had just been to hell and back and barely lived to tell about it.

“I wish I could go back, Liz.  Back to when things were normal,” Max told her, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Me too,” Liz said, and Isabel saw that she was on the verge of crying.  Liz looked away from Max, unable to meet his eyes as she said, “I just wish that I could have . . . stopped you from saving my life that day in the Crashdown.”

Max shook his head.  “Don’t say that.”

Liz moved toward Max until she was only a couple inches from his face.  “Max, the day that you saved my life, your life just ended,” she said, her voice trailing off to a whisper.

“No, that was the day my life began.  Liz, when I was in that room, and they did . . . what they did to me.  You’re what kept me alive.  The thought of you  -- the way your eyes look into mine, your smile, the touch of your skin, your lips.  Knowing you has made me . . . human.  Whether I die tomorrow or fifty years from now, my destiny is the same.  It's you.  I want to be with you, Liz.  I love you.”

“I love you,” Liz whispered.

The scene faded, and Isabel felt Max slipping away from her.  He was waking up.

When Isabel opened her eyes, she found herself back in her room.  The photograph she had used to initiate the dream walking lay on the floor by her bed.  She glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand.  She was shocked to find that the glowing numbers proclaimed only ten minutes had passed.  It had felt like hours.

As she thought back on the scenes she had seen in Max’s dreams, irrational anger born of a fear she carried since childhood boiled in Isabel as she thought of what the images meant.  Max had come so close to revealing the truth of their alien nature to the world, unleashing unknown horrors upon the three extraterrestrial teenagers, and instead of being glad that the truth remained hidden from prying eyes, Isabel now saw that Max had regretted that secrecy every day since the shooting.  And if Isabel didn’t watch him, Max might yet reveal the truth to his so-called destined love . . .

For a few minutes after waking up, Max kept his eyes closed.  He wanted to hang on, if only for a few minutes, to the feelings that the dreams stirred in him.  God, they’re getting stronger, Max thought.  They had begun, these dreams that strangely felt more like memories, the night after the shooting, and they were getting stronger, clearer every night since.

Isabel burst into Max’s room without even knocking, interrupting his thoughts.  Max didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that it was her.  He did anyway and took in his sister’s furious expression.

“When were you going to tell me?” Isabel demanded to know.  She crossed her arms in front of her chest and pinned her brother with an icy look.

Max sat up in bed.  “Tell you what?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Isabel said, throwing up her hands in mock ignorance, “that you’ve been dreaming about Liz Parker, about the day of the shooting, about telling her the truth.  Have you gone mad, Max?  Do you know what would happen if a human learned the truth?”

Anger welled up in Max.  “You dream walked on me?  How could you do that, Isabel?”

Isabel ignored Max, and repeated her original question.  “When were you going to tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell, Iz.”

“Obviously, there is—” Isabel started to say.

“How is what I dream any of your business?” Max interrupted, his voice climbing to higher volumes as his anger grew stronger.

“It’s my life too!” Isabel practically screeched.  “Don’t you even try think that what you doesn’t affect me and Michael just as much as you.  It does!  And if you’re even thinking about—”

“I’m not,” Max interrupted.  “It was a dream, Isabel!  A dream you had no right intruding upon.  God, Isabel—”

“No right?” Isabel repeated.  “I think I do have a right to know what my brother’s thinking when the repercussions of what you do have an impact on me.”

“What I’m thinking . . . thinking!  A key word there!  I never planned on telling Liz anything!  They’re just dreams,” Max growled.  “Dreams I have no control over.  Okay?  They just come to me, like, like memories of the life I should have led.”

“Should have?”  Isabel’s laugh was cold.  “Really, Max!  We’re leading the life we should lead.  Safe, okay?  Without any secret government agencies and alien hunters trying to track us down!”

“I’m not so sure, Isabel,” Max said, calmer this time, the anger fading away as another disturbing feeling took over.  “Don’t you ever feel . . . I don’t know.  Kind of . . . lost?  Like things just aren’t quite right?”

“What do you mean?” Isabel asked guardedly, taken aback by the strangeness of her brother’s words.

“Ever since the day of the shooting, I’ve been having this weird feeling that somehow . . .”  Max looked away from Isabel’s confused gaze as he realized the ridiculousness of what he was about to say.  But it had to be said.  “That somehow . . . destiny screwed up,” he ended in a whisper.

There was a tentative knock on the bedroom door, interrupting the two.  After a moment, Diane Evans poked her head inside the door.  “Is everything okay?” she asked.  “I heard shouting.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Isabel said, giving her a warm smile.  “Everything’s fine.  Just a little . . . disagreement.  It’s okay now.  Sorry if we woke you,” she added, grimacing at the late hour Max’s clock showed.

“Okay . . .”  Mrs. Evans sounded uncertain, but willing to let the siblings work out their problems on their own.  She closed the door softly on her way out.

Isabel sighed as the tension and anger left her.  “I don’t know, Max.  These last two months have been strange.  I mean, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if that girl hadn’t have stopped you.  What our lives would be like right now—”

“Wait,” Max interrupted.  “What girl?”  A genuine look of puzzlement was on his face.

“The girl, Max!” Isabel said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “The one who came up to you when you were healing Liz.  The one who stopped you.”

Max looked at Isabel as if she had just grown a second head.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he whispered, trying frantically to make some sort of sense of what she was telling him.

“Okay,” Isabel began.  “What do you remember about the day of the shooting?”  It was possible, Isabel conceded, that the image she saw of the girl was really only something Max’s subconscious had merged with his real memory of that day.  Maybe the blond had never really existed.

Max briefly described the events of the day, which matched everything Isabel had heard about it previously, and matched everything she saw in Max’s dream reenactment.  Except, of course, when he got to the actual healing.  According to Max, it had been Mr. Parker who had pushed him out of the way.

“Mr. Parker?” Isabel asked.  “Are you sure?”

Max began tapping in a rhythmic pattern on the top of his nightstand, thinking deeply.  “Yeah,” he said finally.  “I don’t remember any girl there, besides Maria and Liz, of course.”  Tap tap-tap-tap . . .

“Max, stop it!” Isabel growled in frustration.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently enough.

“That . . . that tapping!” Isabel exclaimed.  “You’re going to drive me insane!”

Max stared at his hand as though it were not even a part of his body, instead an alien object with a mind of its own attached to his arm.  “Sorry, Iz,” he muttered.  “I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

Isabel sighed in resignation.  “All right.  I’m going to bed.  It’s late.  I suppose we can talk in the morning?”

Max nodded soberly.  “Yeah.  Tomorrow.”

“Night.”

“Night, Izzie.”

The next morning passed slowly for Liz.  Her therapist Tim led her through her daily exercises, each day increasing in difficulty.  But after that, back in her hospital room, Liz grew antsy and bored.  Not even reading helped.  She found herself unable to concentrate on the words of the book for more than a few minutes at a time before her mind would wonder off again.  She eventually gave Little Women up as a lost cause, and simply stared at the ceiling.

Liz hadn’t slept well the night before, her dreams plagued with memories of the times she and Max had shared together, the good and the bad, both equally painful to relive, given her current situation.  Now, she found herself too awake to catch up on the lost sleep and yet to tired to concentrate on anything significant.  Her thoughts grew to resemble an endless circle that she was caught in, traveling from Max to her current situation, to the “past” and back to Max again.

Lunchtime broke the monotony a little.  She allowed herself a small chuckle as she thought again how everything she had heard previously about hospital food was true.  She gave the grilled cheese sandwich a distrusting poke.  On side of it was so lightly browned that the butter was still wet while the other was practically burnt.  If she hadn’t have been so hungry, Liz might have shoved it away and refused the pathetic excuse for lunch.  As it was, though, Liz made do.  Besides, it killed a good fifteen minutes as she distracted herself by concentrating on choking down the sandwich and luke-warm vegetable soup they served with it.  At least there wasn’t much they could do to grape juice, Liz mused, sipping the drink, ambrosia by comparison, between bites.

When mid-afternoon rolled around, Liz mentally prepared herself for the next session with Dr. Peterson, wondering what would come of it this time.  It was all for naught Liz realized later, when the nurse who normally took her to the doctor’s office came in to tell her that the doctor would not be seeing her this time.  According to the nurse, he had another pressing engagement.  Liz allowed herself to relax.  However, that did leave her in a predicament of how exactly she was going to spend the remaining time until visiting hours.  Liz sighed heavily and glanced again at the clock.  Five hours and counting, she thought.

A few hours later, movement outside her room caught Liz’s attention.  A young girl, about Liz’s age, was standing outside the doorway looking in.  Her gaze was cold and piercing as she stared at Liz, hardly reacting at all to the realization that Liz now knew of her presence.  For a moment, Liz couldn’t place where she had seen the girl before; her face, her blond curls that barely touched her shoulders, looked so familiar to Liz.  It was on the tip of her tongue.

When the realization set in, Liz gasped.  Just as the girl started to turn away, Liz whispered, “Tess.”

The girl froze.  She turned slowly, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.  “How do you know my name?” she asked.

“What are you doing here?” Liz asked, ignoring her question.

Tess was still in shock.  “How do you know me?” she asked.

Meanwhile, Liz’s scientific brain was working overtime, piecing together the clues she had picked up in the last few days.  “It was you,” she whispered.

Their eyes were locked in a heated battle.  It was as if nothing had changed between them.  Tess stared at Liz with cold hatred and Liz matched her gaze, fury growing in her as she became more and more convinced of her theory.  “You stopped Max from healing me,” Liz spat out.  “You changed everything.”

This time, Tess ignored her own questions of how Liz came to know so much, and instead let her own building fury take over.  “I had to, don’t you see?  Max would have forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” Liz asked.

“He would have forgotten everything.  What we were here for, and me, his wife!”

“Because of me?”

“Yes!  Because he would have healed you, and you would have taken my place at his side.  Once that happened, I’d never have him completely for myself.”

“So you stopped him.”

It was not a question, but Tess answered it anyway.  “Yes.”

“But it didn’t work, did it?”

Tess was silent.

“I lived,” Liz said.  Then with bitterness in her voice she added, “and I remember everything.”

Tess smiled slowly.  “Not for long.”

At that moment, Ruby, the nurse from the first day, burst into the room.  “Oh!” she reacted with surprise to seeing Tess.  “I didn’t know you had company,” she said to Liz.  Then, turning to Tess, she told her, “Sorry, love, but visiting hours aren’t for a while yet, could you come back then?”

There was a look of concentration on Tess’s face.  She didn’t answer the nurse.  Nor did she move from that spot, but after a moment, Ruby turned toward her patient, Liz’s ‘company’ forgotten.

“No,” Liz whispered, her eyes still on Tess.  She mentally steeled herself for the intrusion of her mind.  She wouldn’t let Tess make her forget the encounter.  She wouldn’t!  She envisioned an impenetrable wall encircling her mind.

“What was that, love?” Ruby asked.  She glanced in the direction Liz was looking but didn’t seem to see Tess at all.

“Nothing,” Liz responded, not taking her eyes from Tess.

Tess’s face was full of strain.  Liz was fighting her tooth and nail, and Tess was having a hard time controlling both minds at the same time.  Not with Liz fighting her.  Finally she gave up.  Without another word, Tess slipped out of the room.

Ruby bustled around the room, oblivious to the power struggled that had just occurred in the room.  Liz, meanwhile, was lost in thought.  Why had it taken her so long to recognize Tess?  It had only taken a few moments, but that was a few moments longer than it should have been.  What was happening?

That afternoon, after school ended, Max called a meeting for himself, Michael and Isabel.  Michael met the two siblings in the living room of the Evans’ house.  The meeting spot soon had to be relocated, however, as Mrs. Evans shooed them out, claiming that she needed desperately to clean the house before some very important clients came over to talk to her and her husband, Max and Isabel’s father.  A great debate ensued between the three outside the house as to where they should meet instead.

Isabel’s first suggestion was to find a secluded booth at the Crashdown, their favorite after-school hangout.  The idea was immediately shot down by both of her brothers, for two entirely different reasons.  Max claimed that it was too open and too risky for the type of discussions that he intended on bringing up.  Michael went along with that perfectly valid excuse, never naming the real reason he too had objected.  The truth of it was that Michael didn’t want to see Maria.  In the last two months, he was starting to feel strange things when he was around her, and he didn’t like it.  Yesterday, he had thought he might get something quick to eat there as a welcome substitute to rummaging through the near-empty refrigerator in Hank’s trailer, and only realized later what a mistake that had been.  The nearness of her had bought all the dreams and feelings he’d been having—and quickly suppressing—lately to the surface.

All three sat now in the Evans’s jeep in a secluded spot in the desert, one place they were finally able to agree on.  An awkward silence spread before them, as the alien teens knew there was plenty they needed to discuss, but none of them knew where to begin.

Finally, Michael broke the silence.  “Something happened yesterday, didn’t it?”

Isabel and Max both squirmed uncomfortably under Michael’s piercing gaze.

“Well?” Michael urged.

Isabel cleared her throat.  Quickly she described the events of the previous night.  Max occasionally broke in to correct her or add on to her story at various parts.  The tone of his voice made it clear to Isabel that he still resented the invasion of his privacy, but had resigned himself to the fact that the story had to be told.  Michael listened, visibly growing paler as Isabel continued.

“I think we need to talk to Liz,” Max said when their story was finally over.

Isabel looked as though her worst fear had come true.  “No, Max, that’s the last thing we need to do.”  She looked pleadingly at her other brother.  “Michael?”

Michael didn’t seem to be listening to either one of them.  He was staring at the closed notebook in his lap, and Isabel looked at it with interest.  She had never seen it before.  Michael tapped his pencil, which looked as though it had been sharpened crudely with a pocketknife, on the weathered surface, thinking deeply.

“Michael!” Isabel said, trying to recapture his attention.

“I think there’s some things you guys need to see,” Michael said, finally returning his attention to the other two.  He opened the notebook and flipped through its contents before settling on a single page.  He turned the notebook so it was visible to both Isabel and Max.

“What is this, Michael?” Isabel asked, unable to keep the shock out of her voice.

For there, on the lined page, was a beautifully sketched picture, each line and shadow serving its purpose in shaping the faces that stared back at them.  But the skill of the drawing wasn’t all that shocked Isabel.  It was the image itself.

It was the three of them: Max, Michael and Isabel, but with them were three humans: Liz Parker, Maria DeLuca, and Alex Whitman.  Alex stood behind Isabel, a comforting hand on his shoulder.  Maria was looking up at Michael, a secret smile playing on her lips, as Michael stared out ahead.  Beside them, Liz and Max gazed adoringly at each other, lost in their own world.  The desert spread out behind the six, with distant rocky hills marring the perfectly flat dusty landscape.

Isabel pulled the notebook from Michael’s hands before he could utter a word of complaint.  She turned the pages, simultaneously tuning out Michael’s growls of protest.  Let him complain, she thought, oblivious to her intrusion of his privacy, this is more important.  Isabel was shocked at the number of drawing of Maria he had in his notebook.  Maria with her hair short.  Maria with long curls.  Maria with her face full of exasperation and annoyance.  Maria smiling sweetly.  Amongst those, though, were pictures of other people.  Max, Michael, herself.  Liz, Kyle and . . . oh, God.  When she got to a picture of Alex, Isabel’s hands trembled slightly.  She quickly reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear to hide the tremor.  It was just a dream, she told herself sternly.  Just some stupid, stupid by-product of the images from Max’s dream.  She refused to think about how last night hadn’t been the first time . . .

Michael took Isabel’s hesitation as an opportunity to snatch up the notebook again.  Max’s interrupted her before she could take it back, “You woke up crying this morning, Izzie,” he said, her change in emotions not lost upon him.  Rather, her expression had brought the memory of that morning—when he found her in the bathroom washing the tears from her face—to the surface.

“I did not,” Isabel said, not meeting his eyes.  She smoothed her hair, fingering out a small tangle, determined to play innocent.

“You did,” Max said softly with conviction.  “Why?”

Isabel met her brother’s eyes finally.  “It was just a dream,” she repeated, out loud this time.  Her gaze dared Max to contradict her, and Max didn’t disappoint.

“I don’t think it was,” Max said.  His voice grew louder as he became surer of himself.  “I don’t think any of this has been ‘just dreams.’  It’s not just coincidence.”

“Then what is it?” Michael asked, speaking up for the first time in a while.

“Think about it,” Max urged.  “When did all this start?”

Isabel and Michael looked at each other, identical confused expressions on their faces.

When neither said anything, Max continued, “Michael, when did you do the first drawing?”

Wordlessly, Michael flipped to the beginning of the notebook.  He peered at the small scrawled numbers in the lower corner.  “About two months ago,” he responded.

“Exactly!”

“Max?”  The tone of Isabel’s voice made it clear that she thought he was losing his mind.

“Two months ago,” Max said as though it made perfect sense.  “Right around the time Liz was shot at the Crashdown.”

“What are you trying to say, Maxwell?” Michael asked.

“I’m saying, what if something happened that day that wasn’t supposed to happen?  What if . . . What if I was supposed to heal Liz?  What if all of these . . . feelings and – and dreams are really just kind of memories of a reality we were cheated out of.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Isabel said.

“Okay,” Max said, mentally taking a step back in his train of thought.  “Think about it this way.  Suppose every decision we make has infinite consequences leading to an infinite number of alternate realities in which each of those consequences is played out.  Well, what if in one reality, I did heal Liz Parker, and that act led to all of the images and feelings we’ve been getting lately.  And what if somehow, that reality was the reality that was supposed to happen?  What if destiny screwed up?  And now, somehow, those realities—ours and this other one where I saved Liz—are colliding, so to speak, and we’re getting the images from it.  Maybe when we are asleep we’re mentally at our most vulnerable, and that’s why we’ve been having these dreams.”

“Max, that’s not possible,” Isabel said.

Max grabbed the notebook from Michael, who surprisingly didn’t protest this time.  He flipped quickly through it, searching.  When he found what he was looking for, he turned it for Isabel and Michael to see.  “Then explain this,” he said, jabbing his finger at the image on the page.

Isabel gasped.  “Max, it’s your dream,” she breathed.  For there, on the page, was an image of Liz standing in the Crashdown, clutching the top of her stained waitress uniform closed, a broken bottle of ketchup in her head.  Her countenance was full of wonder and surprise.  Isabel could practically hear Max’s voice in her head saying, you broke a bottle when you fell, spilled ketchup on yourself.  Don’t say anything please . . .

Michael didn’t have to remember the dream to know understand the significance of the image.  He’d known for a while that something was wrong.  It was actually sort of a relief to know that he wasn’t going crazy.  Or, at least, if he was, he wasn’t the only one.  It was a relief to know that there might actually be a reason that Maria, that annoying, flaky, jabber-mouth friend of Liz’s, had been in his thoughts and dreams lately.  Some reason other than the possibility of a growing attraction to Maria DeLuca, of all people.

But while Michael was calmed by the new revelation, Isabel was nowhere near relieved.  “What do we do now, Max?” Isabel said, her voice an octave higher than usual in her growing panic.

Max glanced between Michael and Isabel, trying to ascertain what their reactions might be to what he was about to say.  “I think we need to talk to Liz.”

“Liz!” Maria squealed, practically bouncing into the room in her excitement.  She ran to Liz, giving her a big bear hug.  “I’ve got so much to tell you,” she said.

“Maria, calm down,” Liz laughed as the hug ended.

But Maria could barely stay still for two seconds on end.  “I can’t calm down.  I have been best-friend-less for two months.  Do you know what that can do to a person?!  I mean, don’t get me wrong; I love Alex, but there’s only so much ‘chick stuff’ a guy can take.”  Maria paused, gathering her thoughts, or rather her gossip, if Liz knew her friend.  “Okay, okay,” she said.  “For starters, Kevin Rockfield and Allison Thatcher?  They broke up two weeks ago.  Massive, public fight outside of school.  And I totally thought they were going to win “cutest couple” for the end-of-the-year superlatives.  And I hear . . .”

Maria continued reciting all the latest West Roswell High gossip, but Liz found her thoughts drifting away from the conversation.  All the high school drama seemed so childish compared to what had been going on in her life lately.  Couldn’t Maria see that?  She tried to make herself pay attention, for Maria’s sake if nothing else.  But just as Liz started to completely tune Maria out despite her best efforts, something snapped her attention back to the conversation. “Wait, Maria, what did you just say?”

“His parents are thinking of taking him to a therapist,” Maria said.

Liz shook her head impatiently.  “No, before that.”

Maria sighed heavily, her face full of disappointment.  “You haven’t been listening, have you?”

Liz immediately felt horribly guilty.  “Maria, I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Maria said, brushing off whatever hurt she had felt.  “I said, Max Evans has been acting strange lately.  Even more withdrawn than usual.  There’s a rumor going around school that his parents might try to get him to see a therapist.  Of course, you can’t say that around Princess Isabel, or else her Royal Highness would give you a tongue-lashing you’d never forget; she’s so protective of him.”

As much as Liz would like to have heard more about Max, that was as much as she managed to get out of Maria.  Her conversation inevitably steered away from Max, talking instead about Isabel’s snotty friends and their latest conquests.

“I can’t believe you managed to talk me into this,” Isabel said, shifting uncomfortably in the hall outside Liz’s room.  She ran her hand over her blouse and subconsciously used her powers to smooth out the wrinkles there, primping as she always did when she was nervous.  In her other hand was a small Hallmark card they had found in a desk drawer, previously an old birthday card that was easily adapted to say “Get Well Soon” instead.

“It was your idea to come along, Iz,” Max reminded her.

“I had to come along.  I couldn’t just wait at home and wonder what’s happening!” she hissed.  “But I’ve never talked to Liz before in my life.  At least not when I didn’t have to,” she amended, remembering the occasional group project in which she had been placed with Miss Scientist herself.  “How are we going to pull this off?”

“Don’t worry,” Max told her.  “We’re just here to support our classmate.  You know, wish her well.”

Michael snickered at the thought of Isabel for once putting someone else, least of all Liz Parker, before herself and her own agenda.  Isabel, catching on to his train of thought, glared at him.  Fortunately for Michael, something drew her attention back to Liz’s room.  “I hear voices,” she said.  Not completely forgetting her annoyance with him, Isabel none too gently smacked Michael’s arm.  “Go over there and see who’s with her.”

Michael, for once, wordlessly complied.  He peeked around the corner.

“And, I hear – Michael!” Maria gasped.

“Michael?” Liz said.  She followed Maria’s gaze to the open doorway where she caught a glimpse of Michael’s spiky head retreating around the corner.

“God, that guy gives me the creeps,” Maria said, shuttering for dramatic effect.  “What’s he doing here anyway?”

Liz laughed.  “You know, Maria, you might be surprised.  If you give him a chance . . .”

“Give him a chance?  Liz, what’s happened to you?  Michael Guerin?”  Maria’s face was full of distaste.  “I wouldn’t ‘give him a chance’ if he were the last ali —guy on earth.”

Some of Maria’s disgust faded, and Liz could swear that she turned a shade pinker.  Was it her imagination or had Maria been about to say the word ‘alien’?  She didn’t have time to ponder Maria’s accidental slip-up.  There was a gentle knock on the open door.

“Come in,” Liz said as soon as she saw Max in the doorway.  Liz’s heart immediately started beating faster at the sight.  Isabel and Michael stood behind him, looking as though they would rather be any other place than there.  Liz shot a glance at Maria, who didn’t look any happier.

“Max,” Liz greeted.  “Isabel, Michael.  How are you?”  Her heart was pounding so hard at the sight of the three that she wondered if they could hear it.  She hadn’t been this nervous around Max since the beginning.

The three returned the greeting, Isabel and Michael still looking vaguely uncomfortable, though Isabel now was hiding behind her ‘ice princess’ attitude, nose slightly elevated, face set in a superior, slightly disgusted look.

Maria looked from Michael to Isabel and back to Michael again.  She rose from the seat she had pulled up beside Liz’s bed.  “You know what?” she told Liz.  “I think I’m going to get something to drink from the cafeteria.”

Michael all but glared at her on her way out.  “You do that,” he said to her, obviously glad to be rid of Maria.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” she told Liz while glaring back at Michael.  Tension crackled between them.  Liz bit her lower lip to keep from laughing at the two.  They never did get along.  Not even when they were a couple.

The silence in the room was deafening once Maria was gone.  Max shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.  It looked to Liz as though there was something important he wanted to say, but didn’t know where to begin.  Meanwhile, Michael and Isabel seemed to be waiting for Max to make the first move.

Finally, Liz broke the tension in the room.  “I’m guessing this isn’t just a friendly visit,” she joked.

When Max still didn’t respond, Isabel nudged him.  Max snatched the envelope from Isabel’s hand.  “We got you this,” he said, moving closer to hand her the “Get Well Soon” card.

“Thank you,” Liz said softly, taking the card from him, careful to make sure their fingers touched in the process.  The touch was apparently too brief to ignite any visions, or perhaps they were both too nervous to be in the right state of mind.  In any case, Liz was disappointed when Max withdrew his hand.  She laid the card on the table by her bed without looking at it.

Liz’s brain was working on over-time.  Was it possible, she thought, that they know something’s wrong too?  She racked her brain for something simple and small to squeeze the truth from them.  One thing did come to mind.  It wasn’t the subtlest, but it was the best Liz could come up with on short notice.  “You know, when Maria gets back, you can ask her to get you something to drink too.  If you want.”  She paused.  “They don’t, you have, have Tabasco sauce there, but . . . I’m sure you can make do.”  She tried to look completely casual as she waited for a reaction.

Michael tensed, Isabel looked like she was going to bolt from the room, but it was Max who spoke first.  “Tabasco sauce?”

“Yeah, you know, to put in your Cherry Coke.  Sweet and spicy.”  She looked at Michael.  “A perfect combination.  Well, for those with that certain . . . dietary quirk.”  She wrinkled her nose at the thought of eating some of the things she had seen the aliens eat.  Like strawberry pancakes with Tabasco sauce.  Candy bars with mustard.  Ugh.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Max said evasively, but it was obvious from the look on his face that he knew exactly what she was talking about.  That was all the proof Liz needed.

“Yes, you do, Max,” Liz said.  She sighed.  “Look, you guys are obviously here for a reason, so let me just come right out and say it: I know, okay?  I know everything.”

“What do you mean, you know everything?” Isabel asked.  Her eyes shot daggers at Max, and he in turn gave her a look that proclaimed his innocence.  Meanwhile, fury boiled in Michael’s eyes.

“I know the three of you ‘aren’t from around here,’” she said, quoting Max.  “I know about the pods you supposedly emerged from and I know about your powers.”

The tension in the room was palpable.  Michael took a step toward Liz and would have gotten closer had Max not put up a hand to stop him.  “All right,” Max said.  “How do you know?”

“Because on September 18, 1999, you came up to me and you healed me,” Liz said.  She paused.  “And afterward, you told me everything.”

Max shook his head.  “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” Liz whispered.  “In another time, in another place, you did . . .”

Maria groaned in frustration.  She heard the bottle of pop fall inside the machine, but when she reached hand inside to retrieve it, her hand came back empty.  She knelt down in front of the machine and peered inside the dark bin where the merchandise is theoretically supposed to fall.  Empty.  Come on! she mentally screamed at the piece of equipment.  Just once!  This was the last thing she needed right now.  She gave the glowing front of the coke machine a hard smack but only succeeded in making her hand sting in pain.

What was Michael doing in Liz’s room? Maria thought, as she knelt down once again just to make sure that a miracle hadn’t happened and her Cherry Coke wasn’t there waiting for her.  The first sight of Michael had made Maria so flustered that she had to get out of there, and now Maria was dying of curiosity to know exactly what was going on in that room.

It wasn’t as though Liz and Michael were even friends.  If anything, Michael seemed to openly dislike Liz.  And Liz . . . Maria wasn’t quite sure how Liz felt about Michael before, but things had certainly taken a strange turn lately.  Give him a chance?  You might be surprised?  What was that all about?  I mean, granted the girl’s been through a lot lately, but . . .  Maria shook her head.

Before she could stop them, her thought immediately turned toward the disturbing dreams she’d been having lately.  She’d made a point to instantly forget the dreams upon waking, but every now and then they seeped into her consciousness like a cold wind sneaks through the fabric of a jacket.  The dreams were full of images of her and Michael bickering, fighting . . . flirting, kissing.  Maria shuttered.  If it wasn’t for the other strange ideas that came along with the dreams that totally threw their credibility out the window, Maria might have thought she was getting a crush on Michael, as insane a thought as that might be.  Her mother, a hippie to the core, had always believed in the prophetic quality of dreams.  But to Maria’s relief, the strange dreams also contained elements that couldn’t possibly mean anything in real life.  Who really believes in aliens, anyway?  Aside from deranged tourists, that is . . . and that weird guy who ran the UFO museum.  It was ridiculous.

Maria gave the machine one last hard kick with one sandaled foot before giving up the coke as a lost cause.  She headed back toward Liz’s room, her curiosity hitting an all-time high.  Since the door was still partly open, Maria could hear snatches of the conversation as she approached.  “How do you know?” Max was saying.

“Because on September 18, 1999, you came up to me and you healed me,” Liz’s voice said.  Maria froze in her tracks.  What?  “And afterward, you told me everything.”

“No, I didn’t,” Max responded.

“Yes, you did,” Liz whispered back.  “In another time, in another place, you did.”

“Liz?” Maria said walking in.  “What are you guys talking about?”

The entire room froze, and Maria could feel the friction in the air.  Michael pinned her with a look.  “Get out of here,” he growled.

“No, Michael,” Liz broke in.  “She deserves to know.”  Liz looked at Max.  She took his silence to mean that while he may not complete agree with that, he wasn’t going to fight her.  “You’ve all been feeling it, haven’t you?” she asked, looking around the room.

“Feeling what?” Maria asked, feeling somehow out of the loop.  She’d only been gone for a few minutes, for goodness sake!

“Maria, when Michael poked his head in here a couple minutes ago, what did you say?”

“Um, that he gives me the creeps,” Maria said, turning a few shades redder.

“After that,” Liz prompted.  “Not if he was the last . . .”

Maria shot an embarrassed look at Michael.  He was standing very still and silent, and Liz thought that the expression on his face could almost be described as pained.  “Guy on Earth?” Maria finished Liz’s sentence.

“Except you weren’t going to say ‘guy’ at first, were you?” Liz probed.

“What’s this have to do with anything?” Isabel asked impatiently, but Michael laid a hand on her arm, stilling her protests.  He was staring intently at Maria.

“Alien, okay?” Maria said finally, annoyance in her voice.  “For some absurd reason, I almost said ‘alien’ instead of ‘guy.’  Not if he was the last alien on Earth.”

Liz looked to Michael.  If anyone, he would know the reason behind Maria’s word choice.  He was staring astonished at Maria.  “Ditto,” he whispered, but not as though he truly meant it.  More like the word was a secret only the two of them would understand.

Maria was now staring wide-eyed at Michael.  “What’s going on here?” she whispered to the room in general.  Understanding came slowly, and even when it did, Maria still didn’t believe it.  She needed proof.  “Michael, what’s your favorite book?”

She half expected him not to have an answer, to say that he didn’t like to read.  That would be what she would expect from the Michael Guerin from her years in the West Roswell school district.  Anything but the answer she received, for that answer would mean the world had completely gone insane.

“James Joyce, Ulysses,” Michael responded with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Oh, God, oh, God!” Maria panicked.  The only time she had ever heard Michael say those words was in a dream she had had not too long ago.  “I’m hyperventilating.  I can’t breath!  What’s going on here?  What’s going on!”

“Maria!  Maria, calm down!” Liz cried.  “Calm down.  It’s okay.”

“No, it is not okay, okay?” Maria said, pacing back and forth.  “I’m having dreams about aliens!  Aliens!”

“Not so loud,” Isabel warned.  The door to Liz’s room had long since been closed as the topic grew more sensitive and too dangerous to be heard by outsiders, but the thickness of the wooden door was no match for the ever-increasing volume of Maria’s voice.

Maria continued as if she had never been interrupted.  “And I come here and have someone actually quote to me something in my dream.  How is that possible?”

Max spoke up this time.  “I think I may know why,” he said.  “I think it’s fair to assume at this point that we’ve all been having some strange dreams lately?  And that somehow, those dreams are the same.”  Quickly he told Liz and Maria his theory.

Maria grew even paler, but Liz seemed relaxed as the Max’s idea slowly placed the last pieces of the puzzle into place.

“Liz, you don’t actually believe this, do you?  I mean, we’re talking ali—Czechoslovakians—here!” Maria said, finally aware enough of the sensitivity of their conversation to use another word for alien.

“Maria, listen to yourself,” Liz interrupted.  “Czechoslovakians?  That was the term that you and me came up with so we didn’t have to say the word ‘alien’ out loud anymore.  Remember?  It was in front of Alex that we first used it.  He asked us who was Czechoslovakian and we had to come up with a story right there on the spot.  How else would you know that?  How else would I know that?”

Maria had gone still, finally.

“Now do you believe me?” Liz asked.

Maria could only nod.  “I think I need to sit down, though,” she whispered.

Liz took the opportunity of Maria’s sudden calm to explain to the group what the last few days had been like for her, everything from waking up to the present.  She looked at Max as she finished her story.  “You said when we’re asleep we’re mentally at our most vulnerable.  Well, I guess being in a coma is the ultimate state of unconsciousness.”

Max nodded.  “The only thing I can’t understand is why you lived two years while only two months passed on the outside.”

“I think I can explain that,” Isabel broke in.  “A lot of times when I dreamwalk I’ll come out of it and hardly any time has passed at all.  I think sometimes the unconscious mind works faster than real time passes.”

“If that’s true,” Maria said, “then why don’t we live whole days while we’re asleep?”

“Maybe we do, but we only get to remember a little bit of our dreams,” Max said.  “Just the most recent parts, I guess.”

“Well, these dreams must be different, then,” Liz told him.  “I can remember everything.  Except . . . I think they’re fading a little.  It’s taking me longer to remember certain people and events.”

Max opened his mouth to reply, but just then Nancy Parker knocked on the door and popped her head in the room.

“Hi, Mom,” Liz said, grimacing inside.  Now, of course, they couldn’t exactly finish their conversation.

“Hi, sweetie,” she smiled, entering and looking around the room.  “I didn’t know you were going to have company.  My goodness.”  She smiled at Max, Isabel and Michael.  “It’s nice to see so many of Liz’s friends come to visit.”

Liz introduced them to her mother—all except Maria, of course, who was practically a part of the Parker family—and they exchanged pleasantries.

“We were just leaving, actually,” Max said.

“Oh, not on my account, I hope.”

“No,” Isabel broke in, “we just have a big group project due tomorrow that we all need to work on.  Don’t we, Michael?”  She nudged Michael, who was scowling at the sight of the grin that broke out on Maria’s face.  Fortunately for them, Mrs. Parker didn’t know Michael well enough to see through that lie.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“All right.  It was nice to meet you,” Mrs. Parker told them as they moved to the door.

“Bye, Lizzie,” Maria said, giving her friend a quick hug.

The four slipped out, leaving mother and daughter alone together.

Back at a hotel on the edge of Roswell, Tess Harding tried to collect her wits after that disastrous meeting with Liz.  She hadn’t meant to tell Liz as much as she had; she had gone there only because she had read in the paper yesterday that Liz had awakened and wanted to see for herself.  She had lost her temper, and Nasedo would call that inexcusable.  But, by the rule Tess had been living by, what Nasedo didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.  She used to tell him everything, though he had always been careful in what he would allow her to know.  It was only in the last year that things had changed.

In fact, it was a year ago today, Tess Harding thought, wearily staring at her reflection in the hotel vanity mirror.  A year since the accidental encounter that had drastically changed her life and shaped her every thought and action since.

She and Nasedo, who acted more like a bodyguard or callous guardian than the father he appeared to be to an outside observer, had been traveling North on interstate 285, which happened to pass right through the small community of Roswell, New Mexico.  Tess had been at first taken aback by the tacky alien tourist traps that lined the streets of central Roswell, one of which being the small alien-themed café where she and Nasedo had stopped for a quick bite to eat.

Tess remembered how she had squirmed uncomfortably in the mists of the decorations that seemed to cheapen her life and her purposes on the foreign planet, while Nasedo had simply eaten his alien-themed food without the betrayal of the slightest bit of emotion.

A petite brunette waitress had neared the two who dined in perpetual silence, her silver antennas bobbing up and down, a carefree gait in her walk that Tess envied.  Just as she was passing Tess’s table, the waitress had moved to her right to allow someone else to pass through the narrow walkway between tables, bringing her that much closer to Tess.  Her hand had brushed Tess’s shoulder, and Tess had let out an involuntary gasp of surprise as a kaleidoscope of prophetic images assaulted her.

In that moment, Tess Harding was forever changed.  Her life became a great secret, hiding on instinct everything from Nasedo, from the small black order book she had stolen from the alien-themed café to the long nights she spent since staying up late to fine-tune her new psychic power.  As the weeks, then months, passed, Tess became more and more obsessed with learning the truth behind the mysterious happenings of Roswell, New Mexico.  And slowly, slowly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

She learned that the visions she had seen were of future events.  She saw the struggle she would have to go through to recapture the heart of her destined husband after a single event eternally bond his heart to a mere human.

Consequently, when September rolled around, Tess knew exactly what she had to do.  She had taken great pains to keep hidden as much of her involvement in the incident as she could—using both human and alien means—so that she would not be remembered by anyone involved.  Especially not this Max Evans.  No, not her leader and destined husband.

And things had gone according to plan.  Nearly.  Her plan had worked.  Nearly.  There was only one small problem.  Liz Parker had survived.

Tess had waited, weeks that turned into months, for any clear evidence one way or another that would tell Tess Liz’s chances of coming out of the coma.  Yesterday, her fragile hopes were shattered by the news in the morning paper.  Liz was awake.  And what she did not know, what the newspaper could not tell her, was this: destiny could not be so easily stopped . . .

Two Weeks Later . . .

Liz chatted pleasantly with her mother, who had just picked her up from the hospital; she was going home, finally.  As they neared the familiar streets of Roswell, New Mexico, Liz began to truly appreciate just how much she had missed her home.  Even the tacky fluorescent green sign of the UFO center was a beautiful sight to her.  As the Crashdown Café came into view, Liz’s conversation stopped short.  She gaped at the sight of a huge banner in the Crashdown’s front window.  “Welcome Home, Liz,” the sign proclaimed.

“Welcome home, baby,” her mom said, patting her knee, and for a moment, as the light from the setting sun hit her eyes, Liz could swear her mother was tearing up.

“Mom, you didn’t have to do all this,” Liz told her, as they got close enough to see all her friends and family waiting for her inside the Crashdown.

Nancy laughed.  “As much as I would like to take credit, it was all Maria’s idea,” she confessed.  “She did all the arranging and inviting.  Your father and I just provided the location.”

And Maria had done plenty of inviting.  The party was going full blast when Liz got there, but immediately when she walked into the café, bells on the door jingling behind her, a still came over the room, and many familiar faces turned toward her, smiling and calling out their welcome.

“Liz!”  Maria broke free of the crowd, a grin lighting up her face.  She set the glass of soda in her hand down on a nearby table, and gave Liz a hug.  “Welcome back,” she said.

“I can’t believe you!” Liz hissed to Maria, as Alex too came up to her.

“What did you expect me to do?” Maria said innocently enough, as Alex gave Liz a fierce hug.  “Let the opportunity pass?”

“You know Maria,” Alex laughed.  “Your homecoming was the perfect excuse.”

Maria looked indignant at the implication that she had only used Liz as an excuse to throw a party.  “I happen to think that Liz deserves to have a party thrown in her honor.”

“Oh, I wasn’t debating that,” Alex protested.  “I only meant that . . .”

Liz laughed as the playful bickering continued.  It was good to be back, but already her eyes were wandering past her two best friends to the crowd behind them, seeking out that familiar dark head.

Finally, her eyes found what they had been looking for.  “Max!” she called out, and her heart skipped a beat when his eyes found hers.  They met in the center of the room, and moved instinctively away from the crowd to an unoccupied corner of the Crashdown, near the front window.

“How was your trip?” Liz asked, referring the Evans’ trip to Houston, Texas to celebrate Thanksgiving with Mrs. Evans’ side of the family.

“It was good,” Max said.  “I’m sorry I, uh, didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Liz nodded.  “Yeah, Maria told me.  It was a sudden decision.”

“So—” they both said at once.

“You go first,” Max said.

Liz laughed.  “No, you first.”

“I guess I just wanted to say that . . .”  Max swallowed thickly.  “Liz, this thing between us . . .”

“Yes?”

The air seemed to shimmer and spark with the electricity between them.  “It’s stronger than anything I’ve ever known.”  He reached up and tenderly brushed a strand of hair from Liz’s face.  Max reluctantly pulled his hand away and let it fall back at his side.  “And I want you to know, that whatever happens, I’ll always be there for you.”

“Max . . .” Liz said.  A million possible responses to that ran through her mind, but before she could settle on one, a hand on her shoulder stilled her thoughts.

“Liz,” Maria interrupted, pulling at her friend’s hand.  “Sorry, Max,” she said, “I have to steal her away for a bit.”

I love you, too, Liz thought to Max as she allowed Maria to drag her away.  There were too many people asking about her, Maria was saying, for Liz to be stolen away from them, even by Max Evans.  Liz looked back over her shoulder one last time, and her eyes met Max’s.  They shared a secret smile, and Liz was truly content for the first time in weeks.

Across the street, a girl with blond curls and sky blue eyes whispered, “no,” as she stared through the Crashdown’s windows.  Her fingers curled into a fist and her knuckles grew white.  The scene she had just witnessed hadn’t been a good one.

Despite the fact that Max hadn’t been able to heal Liz, despite the fact that Liz had been in a coma for two months, despite everything, Max was still in love with Liz.  And if Tess wasn’t careful, the bond that had formed between them the instant Max healed Liz would find a way to form and grow despite Tess’s initial interference.

She scooped up the binoculars at her side as she grabbed her backpack.  She headed back for her hotel room for now.  She would return when she had a plan.

Maria sighed as she looked around the crowded café.  She congratulated herself on a job well done.  The party was in full swing, and Liz was happy and laughing at some joke Alex was telling to the circle of friends.  Everything was going right . . . except for one thing.  Michael wasn’t there.

Maria had done everything she could to make sure Michael was there, short of going to his foster dad’s place herself to make a personal invitation, which her pride would never allow herself to do.  That would make her look way too desperate for his company.  But, given Michael’s track record for attendance at West Roswell High, inviting him at school hadn’t been much better of an option.  She had foregone the cutesty invitations she had made for everyone else, and had simply opted to tell Max to pass the message along next time he saw Michael.

All her best efforts had gone to waste, however, for there was not a spiky haired head to be seen at the Crashdown that day.  Maria couldn’t help but feel disappointed, though the logical thinking part of her mind couldn’t figure out why she should care.  But she did, in fact, care more than she wanted to admit.  Maria shuttered like a dog shaking raindrops from its coat, as though that would shake loose the growing feelings.

She moved back to the circle that had clustered around Alex and Liz and made herself pay attention to the conversation.  I will not let Michael Guerin ruin this day for me, she thought with a stubborn sort of anger.

Soon, though, Maria was caught up in the ridiculousness of the story Alex was telling, and the anger melted away.  She laughed out loud when he reached the punch line, and though they never completely left her, her thoughts of Michael were set aside for the time being.  She didn’t even hear the bells on the Crashdown’s door jingle.  She was just enjoying spending time with her friends.

If nothing else, Liz’s close call had taught Maria just how much she should value her friendships.  Life was more fragile and precious since that fateful day.  On impulse, Maria reached out and squeezed Liz’s hand.  No, she would not take these friends for granted anymore.

Michael never made more than a few feet into the Crashdown.  He’d finally decided to come, not because Liz and he were such great friends, but because it seemed to mean a lot to Max that he show up.  And, if he were being truthful, because Max had hinted that it would also mean a lot to Maria if he came.  And if he were being really, really truthful with himself, he just might admit that the real reason he came was just to see Maria.

Michael only made it a few feet inside the Crashdown, and no further, because at that moment, his eyes found Maria.  He stopped short at the sight of her, talking and laughing with her friends.  She was beautiful, Michael realized with surprise.  Her dark blue jeans hugged her slender hips, and her violet shirt accentuated the delicateness of her frame.  Glossy, very kissable lips smiled, and her green eyes sparkled.  She was still a flaky, jabber mouth friend of Liz’s, he reassured himself.  Obviously, what he was feeling was nothing more than physical attraction.  Obviously, there was nothing between them.

But still, a trimmer of fear went through him as he realized just how easily this girl could find a way to pierce through that stonewall he kept around his heart.  He turned around and left before anyone even realized he was there.

Back at the hotel, Tess paced back and forth.  Things weren’t going well.  They weren’t going well at all.  What was worse was that she was running out of time.  Tomorrow evening Nasedo would come back from his mysterious trip to New York that he’d taken.  He’d never left her alone before for any extended period of time, so that meant Tess needed to maintain his trust in her by being exactly where she left him.

She had only tonight.

Tess paused in her pacing. An idea slowly formed in her mind.  She searched her mind for the right memory and focused on it until it became crystal clear in her mind.  She reached her hand up to her face.  Her features morphed beneath her magic touch.

Now for her clothes.  Her cashmere sweater was easily transformed into an orange and black flannel shirt, her tight-fitting stylish jeans melted quickly into dirty worn-out pants of a masculine style.

When it came to the most important accessory, though, Tess’s resolve failed.  She wasn’t a killer.  The very thought of taking a life made her feel cold inside, like a part of her would die with her first victim.  But some things were more important, she decided in the end.  She laid her hand on top of her favorite curling iron and, a few seconds later, lifted shining silver pistol from the tabletop.

She would finish the job the men at the Crashdown had begun . . .

Liz stifled a yawn.  That evening had been the most excitement she’d had in a while, and she was worn out.  Most of the guests had already left.  Only Maria, Alex, and Max were left.  Isabel had long since taken the jeep home, claiming to have an excruciating headache, and Maria had offered to drop both Max and Alex off at their houses when the time came.

The entire night, though Liz had enjoyed greatly talking to all her friends, especially those she hadn’t seen in ages, always in the back of her mind she was waiting for the next opportunity to talk to Max alone.  There was so much she wanted—needed—to say to him.

It was when she was standing next to Maria, listening with amusement as she and Alex got into another play-argument, this time about which was the best band, that she felt someone touch her hand.  She looked up to see Max standing behind her, and she allowed him to lead her away from her two friends to an empty table.  As they walked, Liz began to pick out the soft strains of Sheryl Crow’s “I Shall Believe” playing on the Crashdown’s speakers.  Some part of her knew that that song held some sort of significance, but she couldn’t place why.  She didn’t have time to think about it.

“Max, I’m sorry we got interrupted before,” Liz apologized before Max could say one word.

“It’s okay, Liz.  You’re the guest of honor.  It’s to be expected.”

“Yeah,” Liz said.

There was an awkward silence.

Finally, Liz spoke up again.  “Max, there’s a million reasons why this can never work, but there’s only one reason why it will.”

“Why is that?” Max asked.

“It’s our destiny.”  She smiled softly.  “Nothing can stop that.”

Max brushed his hand across her cheek and cupped her chin with his fingers.  He lifted her face gently up to his.  And brushed his lips softly against hers.  Liz felt her knees go weak.  Max didn’t deepen the kiss; instead he pulled away and looked into her eyes.  “I think I always knew that,” he whispered.

Movement in the corner of her eye caught Liz’s attention.  Alex stood nearby, looking unwilling to interrupt them.  When he saw that he had both of their attention, though, he spoke, “Max, Maria’s getting ready to leave.”

“Okay, thanks,” Max responded.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Alex nodded and left.

Max turned back to Liz.  “Will you be all right?” he asked, unable to explain the sudden sense of foreboding he felt at the idea of leaving her.

“I’ll be fine.”  She pushed him playfully away.  “Go.  It’s all right.  You don’t want to keep Maria waiting.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school?” Max asked.

“Yeah.  Tomorrow,” Liz promised.  Tomorrow suddenly seemed suddenly eons away.

When Max approached, Maria was frantically rummaging through her purse.  “They were in here, I swear,” she muttered to herself.  Finally, she turned the purse upside-down above on of the booths and left the contents spill onto the Formica tabletop.  A round vial of strawberry flavored lip-gloss rolled off the edge of the table and bounced to the floor.

Max bent down to retrieve the lost item.  As his fingers closed around the plastic container, his eyes drifted across the Crashdown’s floor.  He spotted a set of keys half hidden behind the leg of a chair.  He reached over to snatch those, too, up.  He recognized the green skinned, black-eyed figure of an alien on the key chain as something Amy DeLuca created for her alien souvenir shop.  He had no doubt that that was what Maria was looking for.

“Maria,” he called.  He dangled the set of keys in front of the frantic girl.

Maria sighed with relief at the sight.  “Thanks, Max.  You’re a life saver.”  She snatched the keys from his hand and began shoving the pile of junk back into her purse.  “Are you ready to go?” she asked.

“Actually,” Max said.  “I’m thinking of just walking home.  It’s not far, and it’s a nice night.”

Maria looked a little puzzled at that, but didn’t object, and for that Max was glad.  He didn’t want to explain the real reason that he wasn’t going back with Maria.  The unease was getting stronger.

The three, Max, Maria, and Alex, said their goodbyes to Liz, and heading out together.  It was only outside the café that they went their separate ways.

Liz sighed as the last of her guests left.  She glanced around the restaurant.  Paper cups, plates and plastic forks littered every surface.  Maria had bought a large chocolate and vanilla swirl cake at the local bakery for the event, and a few pieces worth of the stuff was still left in the paper box it had come in.  Liz closed the box and set it aside to take to the kitchen later.  She grabbed a trash sack and began going around the room, shoveling the disposable dishes into it.

She heard the sound of feet shuffling slowly into the room.  “Is everyone gone?” Liz’s mom asked, yawning deeply.  She was wearing a floral patterned bathrobe, and her slippered feet explained the shuffling sound Liz had heard.

“Yeah,” Liz said.  “They just left a few minutes ago.”

Her mom’s eyes took in the trash sack in Liz’s hands.  “Oh, baby, you don’t have to do that,” she said.  “I’ll get it tomorrow morning.”

“No, it’s okay, Mom; I’m still too wired up to sleep anyway,” she said.  She always found cleaning somewhat therapeutic.  Perhaps it was because it kept her hands busy while her mind was free to wander.

“All right,” Mrs. Parker said, too tired to want to argue.  “See you tomorrow, Lizzie.”

“’Night, Mom.”

“Don’t forget to turn off the lights when you’re finished,” Nancy called from the bottom of the stairs that lead to the Parker’s living area.

“Okay.  ’Night.”

Tess stared into the Crashdown.  It was considerably less lit up inside than it had been before, and a big red ‘Closed’ sign was hung the doorway.  She waited, watching, for a few minutes more.  Liz’s dark head came into view.  She was moving around the Crashdown in a peculiar way, and it took Tess a moment to recognize the movements.  She was sweeping.  After that realization, Tess could make out the thin dark line that was the broom in her hand.

Good, Tess thought, if she’s cleaning that must mean she’s alone.  But Tess watched for a while longer just to be sure.  She took the opportunity to go over her plans once again.  Her disguise wasn’t flawless, but combined with her alien powers it would be.  When she was absolutely certain Liz was alone, Tess made her move.

It was the shimmer of white light that first drew Liz’s attention to the front of the café.  She looked up to see a dark form in the Crashdown doorway.  She gasped.  She would recognize that profile anywhere.  It had been irrevocable printed on her brain.

It was the man from the Crashdown.

Liz froze, as she had that day.  No, please.  She could already feel a slight burning in her lower stomach, a phantom shadow of the sheering agony she had felt that day, so long ago.  “Who are you?” she asked though she knew.  “What do you want?”  Her voice was shaky and cracking.  She gripped the handle of the broom until her knuckles must have gone white with the strain.

He took a step forward, and Liz automatically gasped and took a step backward in reaction.  Max! her heart screamed out.  No, not just her heart, every part of her, every cell, cried out to him.  Oh, God, help me.

“What do you want?” she asked.  She took another step backward.  She realized, with the part of her mind that wasn’t already numbed with fear, that she was standing in the exact place she had stood that fateful day.  She froze.

The man raised his hand, and something small and silvery glistened in the dim light.  There was no doubt in Liz’s mind of what that object was.

“No!” she screamed.  Max!

Max was a couple blocks when he felt it.  He had been walking slowly, taking his time, for with every step he took away from the Crashdown, Max felt more and more ill at ease.

Max!  He didn’t hear his name being called so much as felt it.  Immediately, he turned and broke into a run.  Oh, God, help me, he ‘heard.’  His legs couldn’t bring him to the Crashdown fast enough.  Max!  There was the sound of a gun firing, and Max’s heart tightened with fear.  But it was the silence that scared Max the most.  There were no more cries for help after that.

A dark figure burst through the Crashdown’s door and took off in the opposite direction.  Max didn’t get a good look, but it was enough to recognize the form.  How could he not?  He had dreamed of that face every night since the shooting.

He didn’t think a moment longer about the retreating man, didn’t even consider the idea of chasing after him.  Instead he ran through the entryway of the café.  His eyes immediately fell upon Liz’s still form, laying in a pool of blood next to the counter.

“No,” he whispered.  Oh, please, God, don’t let it be too late.

He didn’t even take the time to check for a pulse when he knelt down beside her.  There wasn’t time.  From the amount of blood, Max knew instinctively that the wound was much worse this time.  Liz wasn’t wearing a button-up shirt this time, so Max had to use his power to shove the molecules aside, creating a tear in the fabric to expose her abdomen to Max.

He found the wound, just below her bra on the right side of her rib cage.  It was bad.  It was really bad.  Liz was unconscious, but he knew she was alive.  There was still blood pouring from the wound.

Without waiting another moment, Max made the connection.  “Come on, Liz,” he whispered.  Come back to me.

Liz didn’t feel any pain.  She was in a place that was beyond the white-hot agony she felt when a bullet entered her for the second time in her life.  She felt like she was floating, floating away perhaps?  Liz didn’t know.  She didn’t care.  Despite the intense trauma she had just been through, Liz felt relaxed, as though nothing could go wrong.  A bright light filled her vision.  She moved toward it instinctively, not walking, but moving closer none the less.

Then something happened.  She heard a voice.  Come on, Liz.  Come back to me.  She didn’t recognize the voice.  Not at first.  Then a kaleidoscope of images came to her, images of two years of joys and sorrows, trials and adventures.  Max.  As quickly as they came, they left her.  More than left her, each one of the memories dissipated like the morning mist disappears with the rising sun.  She realized something . . . she was starting to forget, but the thought was gone almost before it was formed.

Destiny had been full-filled.

Liz’s eyes fluttered open.  She saw Max’s face hovering a few inches above hers.  What’s Max Evans doing here? Liz wondered.  Then she remembered that she had been shot.  Her hand instinctively moved to her lower chest to see how badly the damage had been.  She didn’t feel anything.  Max rose to his feet.  He grabbed a ketchup bottle from the shelf above him, and smashed it on the edge of the counter.  “You spilled ketchup on yourself when you fell,” he told her.  “Don’t say anything.  Please.”

And just like that, he was gone.

She barely noticed when her parents entered the room, called by the sound of a gun firing.  Liz stood there, staring at Max’s retreating form, every rational, scientific bone in her body cried out that what had just occurred was impossible, but while her mind screamed the impossibility, all her heart knew was that it felt right . . . somehow.

The End

E-mail me with any comments or suggestions! Please, I love them! (It would also help the writing of a possible sequel...) NicoleHazel416@hotmail.com