Roswell Fanatics

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Isn't she brilliant?

I blame Muse for this story. She's the one that convinced me a series of interconnect drabbles is something I just might be able to do. Welcome to number one in the Variable Suns series:

Hammock

“You’re getting pretty good at that.”

Michael looked up from the battered old guitar to see Liz leaning against one of the posts he’d used to tie up his hammock. He nodded at her in wordless acknowledgement and went back to plucking at the strings; desperate to find a variation of the old Stevie Nicks tune, Bella Donna, that he could play without cringing. Maria had heard the damn thing on the oldies station the other day and just would not shut up about it.

Six months on the road found them holed up in a suburb outside Los Angeles. The area around Torrance was a big enough for everyone to find jobs, but manageable enough not to be overwhelming. Liz and Maria had been working at a little café off Redondo Beach, and the steady stream of street musicians that played on the nearby sidewalk had driven the languishing songstress to distraction. After two weeks of listening to her nightly tirades about the mounting decay of her creativity, Michael had picked up a guitar and began teaching himself to play. If having people toss money in a hat at her feat while she sang on the boardwalk would make Maria happy, he was willing to take the hit of learning an instrument in exchange for some peace and quiet.

He picked it up quick and surprised everyone, especially himself, with how much he enjoyed it.

“You gonna stand there all night, Parker?” he asked without looking back up at her. The double wide hammock swung unsteadily as she took that as an invitation and plopped down next to him.

“Don’t you mean ‘Richards,’ Michael? Past time to stop using my maiden name.”

“Whatever,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes, refusing to use the assumed name she and Max had taken for this stop. It was one thing if they were in public, or someplace where they might be overheard. But here? They’d chosen this rental for the cinderblock walls that surrounded the lot. While the risk was always there, he figured that, in the web of deception that was their life, there had to be moments when you remembered who you really were to keep from going insane. And she would always be Parker to him.

She tucked her feet under her and leaned back into the netting. “If I beg, can I get you to play a different song? Maria’s been singing that one non-stop two days. If I hear her croon one more time about ‘fighting for the northern star’ I refuse to be held accountable for my actions.”

He snorted in amusement, “Nice to know I’m not the only one she’s driving crazy.” Reaching up to tighten the strings, he studied at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not hearing any begging,” he goaded.

“I’m too tired to beg,” she murmured as she shifted. The hammock rocked as she pulled her legs up to wrap her arms around them. The uneven distribution of weight settled her against his side and she rested her chin on her knees, her head falling against his shoulder. “Can I bribe you with cookies instead? I’ve got a batch cooling on the rack inside; Cinnamon Tabasco Swirl. I’ll give you first crack at ‘em before Max gets home...”

“Like that wasn’t gonna happen anyway,” he chuckled and nudged her in the ribs with his elbow.

She closed her eyes instead of answering. They swayed for a moment in silence, the soft whisper of coastal winds drifting a lock of hair across her face as he watched her. He knew the heavy lines of fatigue under her eyes matched the ones he wore. This was the first time since they’d left Roswell that they’d felt comfortable stopping for more than a couple days. Max had decreed that they’d try settling for a while to build up resources before moving on, but just because they weren’t moving didn’t mean the worrying had stopped. The strain of constant paranoia was starting to show on them all.

He tucked the loose strand behind her ear. “You owe me cake,” he told her firmly as he playfully bumped her shoulder to get her attention.

Her lids raised slowly, revealing drowsy liquid eyes. “Dark chocolate with Ancho chili ganache,” she affirmed with a sleepy smile.

He began to salivate when she mentioned the recipe their Latina neighbor, Mrs. Rodriguez, had shared with her in exchange for a recent bout of pet sitting. “Oh Parker,” he sang, “keep talkin’ like that and I may have to steal you away from Maxwell.”

“Shut up and play, Spaceboy,” she growled with a laugh as she jabbed him with her elbow. “Or I’m telling Maria that you’ve been dying to sing a duet of Don Henley’s Leather and Lace with her, but were too embarrassed to ask.”

“I’ll remember that,” he smirked as his fingers began to pluck out a haunting acoustic rendition of Staind’s ‘It’s Been A While’.

The ropes creaked as the hammock swayed gently beneath them and the melody chased the last fading rays of the sunlight into the dark.

Tickle

She couldn’t even heal a paper cut.

She wasn’t able to control the weather or open locks. No shields for her, or exploding rays. And changing an object’s molecular structure? Ha! Only if you wanted to turn it into a sickly green protoplasmic soup.

It was almost funny that her powers would become their salvation.

They’d moved north after Torrance, pausing a while in Silicon Valley before heading east. One town blended into another and then another, a seemingly infinite line of nameless little roadside grills and campgrounds. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the Midwestern farming communities began to give way to big New England cities. All she remembered was waking up one morning to the unbroken line of plains merging with gentle swells into mountains. Mountains whose snowcapped peaks gave birth to brooks and streams with the first meager trickles of melting ice. Those tributaries in turn joined together in twos and threes outside the dirty glass of their broken-down old van to become rivers, whose raging paths they followed by highway toward the ocean and the sunrise.

It had taken them more than a year to work their way across country, and it was winter again. She toyed with the frigid metal of her wedding band as the chilly coastal winds whipped her hair in a frenzied halo around her face. They’d rented a beach house, made affordable by the rock bottom rates of the off season, and she found her early morning solace in the deserted stretch of shore behind the property. During the summer, this same acre of sand would be overrun by beachcombers and sunbathers, but deep in December’s frozen clutches it laid abandoned except for her silent daybreak vigils. The heavy gray blanket of the morning sky the only witness to her daily walks.

She felt his presence long before he announced it, a subtle tickle at the base of her skull as he marched quietly down the stairs of the porch and followed her sunken footprints to the waterline. These days, if she wasn’t actively blocking it out, she felt them all. He waited just beyond the limit of her peripheral vision, forcing her to acknowledge him with a nod before he would deign to step forward and offer the steaming mug coffee he’d brought fresh from the pot.

“They’re coming for us,” she said plainly as she took a careful sip of the hot beverage.

He stiffened at her casual pronouncement and turned to her with burning amber eyes. “Have you told Max?”

She grinned humorlessly at him over the rim of her cup. “Yesterday morning.” She closed her eyes and tilted back her head, the heat from the porcelain sinking delightfully into the skin of her frosty hands as she concentrated on the sharp bite of the wind against her face. “He didn’t see any cause to rush, since I told him we had a week before they attacked.” She laughed bitterly, “The fact that I thought it would be better to use every minute of that to get far enough away was deemed unimportant.” Her head fell limply forward, chin tucking itself against her chest. “Was there ever a time when he actually listened to me, Michael?” she asked without opening her eyes, content to await his answer in the field of blackness behind her lids.

The warmth of his fingers tangled in the flyaway strands of hair on either side of her face, cradling her cheeks with his palms as he forced her to look up at him. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his lashes against the broken emptiness that filled her deep mocha orbs. Deprived of everything and everyone except their fellow victims of circumstance, the past year had been impossibly hard on them all. The endless strain of being on the run, the constant worry, and the never-ending battle to keep their heads above the water financially since King Nothing had decreed that no one would be allowed to use their powers to make ends meet had left them all drained. Under a barrage of constant pressure even steel can break and he knew none of them had been that solid to begin with. They were all holding it together by strength of will alone, but the cracks were appearing with increasing frequency. As he felt her trembling beneath his hands, he wondered if this would be what finally broke them.

His breath tickled a few stray hairs against her skin as he spoke, “I’m listening.” The gruff reverberation of his voice loosened the tight knot of worry in her chest. “Tell me,” he demand as he reopened his gaze to hers.

So she did. Her coffee was cold long before she finished speaking, so he dumped it out and tugged her shivering form against him so he could wrap her up in the sides of his coat as she talked. The deluge of words finally stuttered to a close, and they clung to each other like frightened children as the reality of the situation pounded into them like the waves at their feet.

The Special Unit had been reopened and their mission was an interstellar game of capture the flag. They knew about the hybrids. They knew about Liz and Kyle. The FBI was coming, and no one was safe.

She sagged against his chest, the weight of responsibility for this knowledge gratefully shared with someone who would help her act on it. He hugged her tight in understanding, and stated stiffly into her hair as he held her, “Next time, tell me immediately.” His anger with Max for being so nonchalant about approaching death and with her for not coming directly to him was a physical presence in the air.

Liz nodded weakly as he pulled out of her arms and said simply, “I promise.”

He accepted her pledge with a jerk of his head and tugged her with him as he barreled toward the house. “C’mon,” he said as he scratched at his eyebrow in irritation. “We’ve got a lot to do and not much time. Six days, right?”

She bobbed her head in agreement, but in the back of her mind an irritated tickle raged:

They’re coming. They’re coming. They’re coming. They’re coming. They’re coming.

She only hoped six days would be enough.

Um…Warning: Violence. Character Death. Foul Language. This is not a happy drabble!

Pain

“MARIA!!!” The ragged scream tore itself from her throat as she watched the woman she considered her sister fall. “No!” she sobbed uselessly, struggling against her husband’s grip from behind the relative safety of his flickering shield. “Let me go, let me GO!”

He tightened his hold and dragged her, kicking and screaming, away from the broken form of her dearest friend. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the wall up forever. Already he was staggering with the impact of every bullet against the weakened sheen of his force field, the sharp percussion of the hits pounding like a sledgehammer inside his skull. The salty tang of blood leaked onto his tongue, and he realized distantly that his nose was bleeding.

He grabbed his wife by the shoulders and shook her, frantic to make her understand that there was nothing they could do now but run. Consequently, he was the only witness to the final jump of Maria’s body as one of the snipers finally scored a headshot. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of all that was left of her pretty face.

Liz watched as the horror turned his skin pale and clammy, and spun to see what was happening. Desperately, he seized her chin and forced her eyes back to his. “Sleep,” he told her firmly, using everything he’d ever seen of Tess’s mindwarping abilities to put her under. She slumped bonelessly and he barely had the presence of mind to catch her before she fell. The squeal of tires behind him pelted them both with gravel, and he twisted to see Michael piloting a black SUV.

“Get in.” The other man commanded, and he threw Liz over his shoulder as he leapt toward the door. “Where’s Maria?” Michael demanded gruffly as he loaded his precious cargo into the vehicle. It took more restraint than he knew he possessed to keep his eyes from darting over to her ruined remains.

“She didn’t make it,” he barked as he yanked the door shut. “DRIVE!”

Michael clenched his jaw painfully, but complied. The green haze of Max’s shield obscuring the windshield caused his eyes to water as they sped away.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

In the back, Max carefully propped Liz up against his side and concentrated on keeping the shield in place. “Kyle and Isabel?” he asked wearily as he leaned his head back against the seat.

“They ditched the VW in Jacksonville and caught a red-eye to Vegas.” The bedraggled man swiped a hand across his eyes. “They land in an hour, but there’s no sign they were followed.”

“Good,” Max noted feebly. “The other agents?”

“Disabled their transportation,” Michael replied tiredly, his white knuckle grip on the steering wheel betraying how close to the edge he really was. “Should buy us enough time to make it to Wilmington and switch vehicles.”

Max sank into the cushions in relief at the realization that they just might make it. He jumped in surprise as Michael angrily slammed his fist against the wheel.

“How the FUCK did they find us?!!!” The shaggy haired driver snarled furiously. “According to Liz’s vision we should’ve had another three days! What the hell happened?!”

In the back, Max bowed his head and swallowed painfully. Michael caught his motion in the rear view mirror and scowled.

“Maxwell,” he, growled menacingly at the man behind him. “What. Did. You. Do.”

The dark head raised and Max met his glare with liquid, tear-filled eyes. “I called work and told them due to a family situation I wouldn’t be coming back in.”

All emotion dissolved from Michael’s face and he turned his eyes back to the road as he struggled to come to terms with this new information. Max had been working for a pediatric physical therapist, and he knew that his brother had felt awful about leaving the woman in a lurch, but they had all agreed to leave their respective jobs without giving notice. “So let me get this straight,” he asked conversationally, his easy tone belying the ice of his expression. “The woman I love is dead…because you made a phone call?”

Max flinched at his assessment, “We don’t know that for sure.”

“You bastard.” The quiet venom in his wife’s voice sent a chill up his spine. He turned to find Liz awake beside him, eyes wide with grief and revulsion.

He reached for her entreatingly. “Li-” The sharp crack of her palm against his cheek cut him off mid-word. He gaped at her in shock as she undid the seatbelt he’d fastened around her and scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed as she scrambled over the seat into the front with Michael. Yanking the backpack she’d been carrying off her back and into her lap, she dug through its meager contents in agitation. Finally, she yanked a map out of the pack and spread it across the dashboard. “Where are we?” she asked Michael as she straightened the sheet, turning her attention to the business of staying alive in order to keep her mind off Maria and how much she hated her husband right now.

“17 South, ‘bout twenty miles out from Wilmington,” he answered flatly.

“Route C?” She queried, referring to their pre-determined escape plans. He nodded once and the pair began quietly discussing modifications to the plan, resolutely ignoring the man behind them.

Unable to stand being excluded, Max leaned forward over the seat. “I’m so sorry, Liz.” he said during a pause in their planning. “I never meant…”

The tiny brunette straightened her spine, but steadfastly refused to face him. “You’re sorry, Max?” she asked in a laughing voice tinged with madness. “You’re sorry. Isn’t that great, Michael?” she stated bitterly to her driving companion. “He’s sorry.” The sandy haired man at her side wordlessly reached out and gripped her hand in mutual anguish. Max tried to break in, but she ignored him easily and continued, “The question is, what exactly is he sorry about? Is he sorry for risking all our lives so Dr. Johnson would know she needed someone else to make the coffee?” Liz tapped her finger thoughtfully against her lip, “No, that can’t be it. Is he sorry for yanking me away from Maria after the first shot hit wall behind us?” She paused thoughtfully, “No…I’m guessing that’s not it either. Maybe he’s sorry for allowing Maria to be shot because he left her unshielded beside us? What do you think, Michael?” Her voice rose feverishly higher with every furious syllable as she clutched Michael's hand like a lifeline. “Do you think he’s sorry he left Maria to die?!”

Michael gritted his teeth painfully and Max paled at the look on his face. “I-I didn’t…You’ve got to understand!” he protested. “Everything happened so fast, I reacted on instinct! Once the shield came up, I couldn’t risk dropping it!”

There was no sympathy in his brother’s eyes as he glared at him through the rear view. “Funny that you can shield an entire Ford Explorer now, but you couldn’t fit Maria in with you and Liz.” His voice trembled on Maria’s name. Liz slid across the seat and buried herself against Michael’s side, her shoulders shaking as the tears began to flow for the first time since she’d awakened. His arm came up to cradle her comfortingly against him as he pulled his eyes away from Max’s and turned his attention back to the road. “Just – shut up, okay? I can’t stand to hear the sound of your voice anymore.”

Max opened his mouth, and then closed it with a snap. The SUV filled with the painful sound of his wife’s sobs. Slumping back against the seat, he stared miserably out the window at the passing North Carolina scenery. Later when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the pleading expression on Maria’s face as the shield snapped into place between them.

Lost

“Hey.”

Liz looked up bleakly at the sound of Michael’s voice. “Hey,” she echoed dully, the raspy tenor of her reply brittle with unshed tears.

“You missed dinner,” he stated matter-of-factly as he slumped to the ground next to her on the cold concrete of the hotel patio.

She waved a negligent hand in reply, “Not hungry.”

He nodded brusquely in understanding. None of them had much of an appetite lately. He felt her small form shivering beside him and wordlessly wrapped an arm around her shoulders to draw her against his side. She accepted his warmth with a drained sigh and lolled her head against his shoulder blankly. In the companionable silence of shared grief, they gazed vacantly down at the stuttering flow of mid-day traffic.

“We don’t even know, Michael,” she stated miserably as she turned to look up at him with hollow eyes. “We don’t even know what happened to her body. At least, when we lost Alex there was a funeral and a grave to visit. What monument do we have for Maria? We can’t even call Amy to let her know that her daughter is dead…” Her words trailed off into ragged sobs, and he dragged her into his lap as she cried. She clung to him, trembling with the strength of her heartache as he buried his face in her hair to hide his own pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she wept brokenly against his chest.

He cradled her skull in his palm, tilting her head back to force her to look up at him. “Why are you sorry?” he asked archly as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

She blinked owlishly at him through a curtain of windswept tresses, anguish reverberating in every syllable as she spoke slowly. “This all started that day in the Crashdown. If Max hadn’t saved me, none of this would ever have happened.”

“Stop, Parker,” Michael said firmly as he shook his head. He moved his hand around to sweep the veil of hair away from her face. “There’s no point in playing the what-if game.” His thumb brushed the stream of tears from her cheek tenderly. “We can’t change the past,” he told her sadly as he bowed to press his forehead tiredly against hers.

She sniffled wretchedly and closed her eyes, leaning gratefully into his palm. “I have to blame myself,” she said in a desolate whisper. “Because if it’s not my fault that Maria got dragged into the alien abyss and murdered, then I start to remember that Max could have saved her.”

Michael clenched his eyes closed in agony at the reminder. Max had explained to them both repeatedly how, in the heat of the moment, he’d reacted to save Liz without thinking. He’d apologized despairingly over and over for Maria’s death, but he wasn’t looking for their absolution. Michael knew it wouldn’t matter even if they gave it; the dark haired young man would never forgive himself. His brother was a walking shadow of his former self, dark circles staining under his eyes and cheeks hollowed from neglected meals. It was obvious the guilt was eating him alive, and in any other situation he would have been deeply concerned. But when he thought of the bright eyed young woman who would never sing again, Michael could only see the other man’s suffering as justified.

Hugging the petite brunette in his lap urgently, Michael silently thanked whoever was listening that Liz was there. If he hadn’t had her sorrow to contend with as well as his own, he was certain he would have murdered Max that day. They were two lost, shipwrecked souls desperately clinging together, and without her he knew he would have drowned. He could feel the darkness inside himself, hovering just beneath the surface. A black oily pit of rage and fury was boiling beneath his skin, just begging to be loosed on those responsible. The FBI. Max. Hell, the entire world! Like all the hybrids, his powers were controlled by his emotions. He felt instinctively that if he indulged in that mindless explosion of wrath bubbling within him, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Like the proverbial Jedi, releasing that seductive blackness would begin a swift slide into the dark side. Right now, knowing that Liz needed him was the only thing that kept him from welcoming the fall.

“I can’t even stand to look at him, Michael,” she breathed raggedly against his mouth as her tears slid down her face to pool in his palm. “Why didn’t he save her?” She wept bitterly at the injustice, “God! Why couldn’t he just save her?!”

He had no answer for her, having asked himself the same question a thousand times since finding out about Maria. Helplessly, he angled his head to press a consoling kiss against the crown of her head. “I don’t know why,” he murmured despondently against her hair, the chocolate strands tickling his lips. “I wish I understood.”

“I hate him,” Liz declared evenly as she buried her damp face against the crook of his neck. “I never thought it would be possible,” she stated calmly, “after everything we’ve been through together. But I can’t forgive him for this.”

His arms tightened convulsively around her at that proclamation. “Liz,” he growled, unsure of what he was even going to say, but she cut him off with a sharp jerk of her head beneath his chin.

“Don’t, Michael,” she said resolutely. “You can’t lie and tell me you feel any differently.”

Unable to argue with her statement, he clenched his jaw as he turned his attention back to the traffic below. The expectant burn of her eyes finally dredged a reply from the depths of his pain. “I wouldn’t,” he agreed quietly.

Behind the sliding screen door, an ashen faced Max listened as his world fall apart.

***

Two days and eighteen hundred miles later:

A furious pounding roused a grumbling Isabel from slumber. Dragging herself out of bed, she stumbled to the motel door and checked the peep hole, gasping in shock to see Max on the other side. She threw the locks open to find the bedraggled form of one of her brothers.

“Oh, Max!” she sighed in dismay at the broken figure of a man the open door revealed. “Where’s everyone else?!” the tall woman cried frantically in worry as she stuck her head outside to search for the other members of her unlikely family.

“Is,” he greeted his sister weakly, tears shining in his eyes. “Something terrible has happened...”

<i>AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okay, um – lotsa death in this one. But there’s light at the end of the tunnel, and this story is just beginning…Stick with me, okay? This is also the last chapter that will be formatted as a drabble response. All following chapters will be done in a more regular, linearly formatted story style. Enjoy!</i>

Part Five: Metallic

She was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming at the injustice of it all. Blood welled in her mouth, heavy and metallic against her tongue. She concentrated on the harsh coppery tang of it as she allowed her long distance connection with Isabel to fade away in a bittersweet pulse of goodbye. Tears wet her lashes as her eyes fluttered open to find a tired Michael waiting impatiently at her side.

Swallowing dryly in a desperate attempt to force words past her cracking lips before she began to weep, she met his weary gaze with her own and said simply, “We lost Kyle.”

His lids slammed shut, as if by closing his eyes he could block out the reality of her words. It was too much. Too much to lose another friend, a brother, to the nightmare that had become their life. Five years ago if you had told him that Kyle Valenti would become a part of his family, he would have laughed in your face. Now it was all he could do to keep from flying into a black rage of retribution to punish those responsible for Kyle’s death.

“Isabel said to tell you that you’d’ve been proud,” Liz’s tiny voice trembled painfully in his ear. “He saved her life; took out half a commando squad that had them pinned down outside of Flagstaff in a pyrotechnic blaze of glory.” He opened his eyes to see her shaking as she futilely swiped at the damp tracks on her cheeks. Carefully, he threaded an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against his chest right before she broke. Her sobs were muffled against the worn cotton, “You would have been so proud, Michael.”

“I am proud,” he whispered as he cradled her against him. He gave Liz a minute of silence with her tears, the only sign of respect they could afford for their fallen friend. As he held her, he wondered bleakly what they had come to. He knew he was born to be a soldier, but when had he internally embraced that ideology to the point where he considered taking out your enemies as you fell a <i>good</i> death? In his arms, Liz’s tears began to slow. He knew it wouldn’t take long for her crying to taper off. They were both painfully aware that grieving was a luxury they couldn’t afford right now. “Isabel and Max?” He questioned finally when stillness fell between them.

“Barricaded in a broken down old gas station in the middle of the Painted Desert. They’re surrounded; Isabel doesn’t think they’ll be able to hold out much longer,” she sniffed weakly, unable to concentrate on the fact that two more of their number were about to be lost. Since shortly after Max had left them to join Isabel and Kyle, the FBI had been hot on their respective tails. Six long months of a narrow escapes and bloody showdowns had led them to this – bogged down in a Louisiana swamp while their remaining family died off one by one in an Arizona desert fifteen hundred miles away. Liz burrowed her face against his shirt, breathing in the warm male scent of him for reassurance before completing her message, “They’re gonna fuse the shield.”

Michael stiffened against her for a long moment before melting in resignation. He nodded brusquely in understanding. Surviving the last six months had been like running a gauntlet of desperation, the likes of which they had never dreamed possible. They had all been forced to do things in the name of survival that they would never forgive themselves for. As a matter of necessity, everyone, even the changed humans, had focused on developing their offensive and defensive powers. The defensive side wasn’t so bad. By this point, everyone but Liz and Isabel had been able to create a shield. Liz hypothesized that some of their powers must be a gender related, because none the men had been able to achieve any real competency with the purely mental abilities, like mindwarping or dreamwalking. But the offensive powers? Those were overwhelmingly physically and psychologically taxing on them all, most especially the soft-hearted Liz. Refining the ability to kill and destroy, as necessary as it was, seemed to break something inside of everyone. It was almost ironic; in order to keep breathing, they had been forced to become the very nightmare the FBI had originally painted them out to be.

Exploring the destructive capabilities of his power had deeply connected Michael to his past life experiences as Rath. The Antarians may not have possessed the Hybrid’s powers, but they had been allies with several other races that did. Through Rath’s memories, Michael was able to discern military applications for their existing gifts he never would have considered before. Fusing the shield was just one example among hundreds, though it was by far one of the most deadly.

Some things came through clearer than others, but Michael was shocked by how distinctly he remembered General Rath being presented a military demonstration of force by the Utarans, one of their allied races. The Utarans had sent the General a recording of a deep space test of their newest “bomb.” In the holovid, they had surrounded a single bit of space junk with a shield. The glow surrounding the object had expanded and then rapidly contracted as they fused the flickering energy molecules of the shield together, exploding in a blinding flash of light as it reached the surface of the shielded rock. Once the light dissipated, it was clear the detonation had vaporized everything within a quarter klick of the blast site. The Utarans had bragged that this was the perfect weapon for urban warfare, as the explosion left behind no trace radiation or debris. The size of the blast was entirely dependent on the number of shield molecules you used to induce fusion, and the example he had been shown required only two individual molecules. The affect was supposed to increase exponentionally with every molecular pair you added thereafter.

He was unsurprised when he recalled that Khivar had taken out the Utarans in a surprise guerilla attack two galactic days <i>before</i> moving against Antar. You just didn’t want that kind of fire power on the opposite side of the battlefield, after all.

Looking back, he realized that this was turning point; this was the moment that he truly embraced his latent military instincts. When he examined this newfound facet of their abilities, and found in it the one solution that he would never before have deemed acceptable: an alien version of Seppuku. Hari-kari. Death before dishonor.

He explained fusing the shield to the others and outlined the use he thought they should put it to, but he’d never believed for one second that anyone would agree with him. He was certain, at the very least, that Kyle and Liz would object to any plan that consisted of mutually assured destruction. But there had been no dissention. They had all been pushed long past the point of morality or ethics, and everyone agreed on one undeniable point: There would be no repeat of Maria’s unrecovered body. In the event that capture was imminent and escape impossible, they refused to be taken alive or allow their corpses to be dissected in some government lab. They adopted a very simple philosophy that had been shared by countless soldiers on hundreds of worlds: If I have to go, I’m taking you with me. It was a pyrrhic victory, to fall ensuring that your murderers would not live to celebrate their success, but sometimes that’s all a soldier has.

Hearing that his brother and sister were preparing to take that route without him was at the same time paradoxically the proudest he’d ever been of his family and a thought more horrifying than any he could bear to contemplate. He hugged Liz reassuringly and quoted quietly to himself, “How can man die better than facing fearful odds?”

The dark haired woman he held heard him, and tightened her grip around him in support. He pressed a grateful kiss against the crown of her head and whispered into the dark silk of her hair, “How many of them are out there?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated, stretching out with the empathic abilities her change had gifted her with to count the number of agents quickly encroaching on their position. “A little over two dozen,” she replied hollowly, turning empty eyes up to meet his. “They’ll be here in minutes.” Their little shack deep in the Louisiana bayou had bought them a couple week’s reprieve from their non-stop running, but Michael’s suspicions that their break was destined to be short-lived had been borne out when he was tailed to the docks from market this morning. Since the only way to reach their current oasis was by boat, it had taken the FBI time to round up transportation and a guide. They should have had enough time to escape. He’d meant for Liz’s contact with Isabel to let her know they were moving to be quick, but they had dallied too long in the aftermath of the revelation of Kyle’s death.

He felt suddenly and inexplicably drained as he leaned his forehead down against hers. “We can still run,” he said evenly, exhausted beyond words at the prospect, but willing to do so for Liz’s sake.

“I’m sick of running, Michael,” she said as she shook her head slowly. “We have no way of knowing what’s happened to the people we left behind in Roswell. Everyone we love outside of there is either dead or dying even as we speak. Isn’t time to make a stand?”

There had been occasions throughout the course of the last few years when he was surprised to realize that no one in the world knew him like the little brunette in his arms. Even before her empathy manifested, she had always seemed to understand what he needed; whether it was space, someone to talk to, or just a slice of spicy chocolate cake. Max and Maria had always claimed to understand him, but no one else seemed to instinctively know where his mind was like Liz. He had never been more thankful for her insight than now. He tilted her head up and asked with an ironic smile, “Think two molecules’ll do it?”

She nodded in grim satisfaction, “They should be close enough.” Her eyes turned liquid as she reached a hand out to cup his jaw. “I hate that it’s come to this, but I’m glad I’m with you.”

He covered her hand with his and tilted it to press a kiss to her palm. Actions had always spoken louder than words to him, and he wanted her to know he echoed the sentiment.

She smiled up at him through a veil of tears. “I’d give anything for another chance,” she choked out with a broken laugh, “to be able to do it all over again with what we know now.”

Any other time that she’d said something like that, he’d been quick to dissuade her. The past was done, there’s no going back, he’d always said. Doggedly, he’d turned his eyes toward the future and refused to even contemplate what ifs. But for the first time as he stood there, staring down at the woman who had become the cornerstone of his existence, he found himself wishing it were possible.

He activated his shield around them as he drew her to him, cupping the back of her head as he lowered his mouth unhurriedly to hers. She returned his kiss willingly, pouring years worth of unspoken, stubbornly unexamined emotions into the embrace.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips and he moaned as she parted for him, welcoming him into her mouth. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the sweetness of her lips as he tasted her, clutching her closer as he reached out to mentally to activate the process that would herald their destruction. He stiffened as he was overwhelmed by flashes of her life, and his traitorous heart ached with their earlier desire: Another chance. Anything to go back and do it all over…

Instead of fusing the two molecules he'd intended, the entirety of the shield <i>twisted</i>. The Universe stopped, arching into the unexpected command, and throughout the infinite void of space <i>that which was</i> melted into <i>that which might be again</i>.

Meanwhile, on a tiny little planet at the edge of a spiral galaxy, Michael Guerin and Elizabeth Parker’s reality disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

Author’s Notes
************************************************************************
1. Quoted line, “How can man die better than facing fearful odds?” is from the epic poem Horatius by Thomas Babbington Macaulay. Find it here: http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/horatius.html

mrsjbehr had made me the banner above and I just love it! It perfectly personifies the story as it is up to chapter five, but I wanted to have something that would cover the direction Variable Suns is heading as well, so here goes:



Part Six: A New Beginning

She was drifting, but not lost.

There was peace. Her existence was filled with soft warmth and comfort. She was safe. She was cared for. She was loved. Nothing would ever be wrong again.

And then she woke up.

She silenced the shrill scream of her alarm clock instinctively. The cool plastic beneath her fingertips barely registered as she dragged herself into a sitting position. Scrubbing strangely uncalloused hands across her gummy eyes, she struggled to focus past her dream memory of heaven and found only a nightmare: Aliens. Conspiracies. Running. Death. Michael and a kiss at the end of the world.

She tumbled out of the bed in shock as her head cleared. Crying out at the sharp crack of her tail bone against the floor, she gaped at the unexpected sight of her childhood bedroom. Blinking back tears, she surveyed the room around her. Achingly familiar, but not exactly how she’d left it two years ago. Little things were missing, like pictures of the group and various trinkets and knickknacks she’d assembled along the way. The books on the shelf weren’t quite right, and she was certain she’d accidentally broken that jewelry box on the dresser two days before she broke up with Kyle.

Filled with a sudden certainty, she lurched to her feet and staggered into her attached bathroom. Flicking the switch on, she squinted against the bright light to stare into the mirror over the sink. Clutching the counter, she fought down a wave of dizziness as her fifteen year old self squinted back at her.

“Oh god,” she gasped as she reached out to trace the smooth lines of her reflection. Unable to stand the vision of her too-young face gaping out at her from behind the glass, Liz stumble back into the bedroom and sank weakly down on the bed. A quick glance at her desk calendar revealed the date to be September 18th. She clapped a hand across her mouth at the slightly unhinged giggle that threatened to spill past her lips. September 18th, 1999. The day she was shot. The day her world changed forever. Her voice echoed hauntingly in her mind:

“I’d give anything for another chance, to be able to do it all over again with what we know now…”

Somehow, against all laws of time, space, and physics, it appeared she’d gotten her wish. She bit back a sob as all the ramifications of this bizarre situation washed over her. Everyone still alive. The hybrids were unexposed. No one hunting them, no reason to run. It was like the last five years had never happened.

That thought brought her mind to a screeching halt. It <i><b>had</b></i> never happened. All her memories, everything they’d all endured, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, none of it had really happened. Would anyone else remember? What if she was the only one? Panic crawled up her spine, closing her throat and stealing her breath at the horrifying possibility.

If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

If no one else remembered, did that make her crazy? Was she crazy? Was it only a dream? Her eyes clamped shut in refusal. No, it couldn’t be a dream, there was too much to it. Once a dreamer was awakened, dreams became fuzzy, insubstantial things. No dream held such sharp sensation, such soaring triumphs and biting losses, as her memories did. Her mind now held a host of knowledge and experience she had no other explanation for in her fifteen year old body.

How else would she know how to make an Alabama Slammer but for years on the road as a bartender? Or remember the smell of the ocean when she hadn’t seen it until she was sixteen and visiting her aunt in Florida? How else on earth would she know what Michael Guerin tasted like? Fifteen year old Liz Parker had never even spoken to him outside of taking his order in the Crashdown.

Her heart clenched painfully at the realization. What if Michael didn’t remember? The thought of his amber eyes coolly staring though her with that casual blankness he used on everyone outside of their inner circle made her queasy. Michael had been her lifeline since Maria’s death. He was the reason she kept going. His support, his friendship, and the knowledge that he needed her as much as she needed him were what had kept her moving. Even before the loss of Maria, he had already edged his way into her heart. Set up his place among those she considered her dearest friends and taken a seat among those she saw as her family. Somehow, the thought of icy aloof fifteen year old Michael watching her sightlessly was more than she could take.

A sharp rap at her door dragged her away from her morose thoughts. Reaching out unthinkingly with her empathic senses, Liz paled as she found herself trapped within the confines of her own mind. It made sense, didn’t it? She reminded herself desperately, if she’d never been shot, then she’d never been changed. Why had she expected to keep her hard-conquered powers? It had almost driven her mad when she’d begun to experience the first confusing stirrings of empathy, but after two years being able to sense the presence of everyone around her, the loss of that ability left her feeling as if she’d been struck blind. A sense she hadn’t realized she’d come to depend on was gone, and everything around her felt flat and two dimensional.

“Liz?” Her mother’s concerned voice wafted through the door. “Are you up? Maria’s waiting for you downstairs…”

She had honestly never expected to hear either of her parent’s voices ever again. Contact with Roswell had been too risky for everyone involved. The knowledge that a couple inches of wood was all that stood between her and a hug she’d been dreaming of since graduation sent her bounding out of the bed.

“I’m up, Mom,” she cried as she threw the door open and swept her surprised mother up in a rib cracking embrace. “I’m so glad to see you,” she choked out as she buried her face in soft curls.

Nancy froze for a moment before folding her arms around her little girl. Teenagers weren’t known for their vigorous demonstrations of affection, and she had a pretty good idea what had prompted this one. “Bad dream, baby?” She asked as held her daughter’s trembling form.

“The worst,” Liz confirmed as she hugged her mother tighter. “But it’s over now,” she whispered as she peeled herself away and swiped futilely at the tracks of moisture streaming down her cheeks. Smiling brilliantly through her remaining tears, she pledged solemnly, “Everything’s going to be alright. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then you’d better hurry,” Nancy chuckled. “If your father has to find someone to cover your shift because you and Maria got detention for being late, ‘alright’ is the last thing you’ll be.”

The thought of what awaited her during that shift sent her scurrying for her closet. She couldn’t allow someone who didn’t know what was coming to be put at risk! She had roughly ten hours to figure out a way to rewrite her past and change the future for everyone. Calling over her shoulder, she yelped, “Tell Maria to wait in the car! I’ll be right down!”

Nancy laughed at Liz’s sudden haste as she strolled downstairs to relay the message.

Part Seven: Company

When he opened his eyes, he thought he was in Hell.

What else could he think? Fifteen years old again and trapped in Hank Whitmore’s trailer. It had to be Hell. It wasn’t until Max blaring the Jeep’s horn outside caught his attention that he even contemplated any other possibilities:

Either he’d gone back in time or he’d lost his mind.

He was strangely okay with either option. They both beat being trapped with Hank for the rest of eternity. It was obvious Isabel and Max were unaffected as soon as they opened their mouths, but that was alright. He was glad they didn’t remember; there was too much he wished he could forget.

As soon as Max parked at school, Michael ditched them both. A quick sweep of the halls proved that Maria and Alex were equally clueless, both passing him by without a single glance. It wasn’t until he turned the corner and found Liz at her old locker that he realized something important.

She was the only one he actually wanted to remember with him.

He felt like an asshole for even thinking it. After all, hadn’t she suffered enough? Who deserved a fresh start, an opportunity to recapture her dreams, more than Elizabeth Parker? He couldn’t help it though. Max, Isabel, Alex, Kyle, hell - even Maria…if they didn’t remember the nightmare their lives had become, he wasn’t about to tell them. But he couldn’t stand the thought of Liz not knowing him. Not having her in his life was no longer an option. He found himself approaching her with out consciously deciding he was going to move. If she didn’t remember, little Lizzie was in for a shock. She and the Michael Guerin of this timeline weren’t friends, and he didn’t have a good excuse for why he was invading her space. That didn’t stop him from stepping closer as he swung her around to face him.

“Parker,” he said as he caught the arm she instinctively swung in defense as she was turned. She stiffened in his grip until she realized who held her. The joyful welcome in her dark eyes made him weak with relief. That was his Liz staring up at him from those mocha orbs.

“Michael?!” She gasped in shock. His familiar smirk sent a bolt of hope shooting through her. Shakily, she found herself pressing closer for reassurance. “You remember?” she asked tremulously as she searched the burnt amber of his eyes, praying to see recognition instead of the blank naivety she’d been met with from everyone else today.

“Do the Jersey Devils win the ‘03 Stanley Cup?” he replied teasingly, knowing she’d never forget him and Kyle commandeering the TV and forcing the girls to sit down and watch the game with them. While Is and Maria had been less than impressed, they’d made a convert of one little brunette. The hockey game the three of them had caught in Boston shortly after had been a rare indulgence and was one of his favorite memories.

“Oh, thank god!” she cried in a voice that was equal parts hysterical laughter and relieved tears as she threw herself into his arms. “I thought I was the only one,” she sniffled against his shoulder, “I’m so glad you’re here…”

His grip tightened around her automatically and he pressed his face into the espresso silk of her hair. “Yeah well, don’t think I’m unhappy to see you either,” he mumbled. An unacknowledged knot of worry in the pit of his stomach loosened and dissolved as he breathed her in. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t alone. Liz remembered and, just like they’d both wished, now they had the opportunity to make things right.

“Aw crap,” he groaned as he realized what he’d just thought. Reluctant to release her, Michael leaned back just enough to look down into her face. His nose brushed against her cheek as he pulled away and he was distracted by the sight of her lips so close to his. His mouth went dry as he recalled that the last time he’d held her like this, it had been to kiss her. The memory of how sweet it had been to press those lips against his own, to touch her and taste her as he’d wanted to do for far longer than he cared to admit, stole the air from his lungs.

“Michael?” She asked as she blinked up at him quizzically, confused by his sudden withdrawal.

Clearing his throat, he shook himself mentally. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Liz Parker did not think of him that way. They had been about to commit mutual suicide, the kiss was nothing more than her humoring him. He knew he could die happy having kissed her at least once, and Liz was too nice deny him his last request. For her, it was nothing more than a goodbye. He had to let it go and stop reading more into it than was there. Refocusing on the woman in his arms, he shrugged sheepishly, “I think I did this.” She blinked up at him owlishly and he continued, “Something went wrong when I was fusing the shield. You’d said you wished we could do everything over, and instead of concentrating on what I was doing I was wishing the same thing.”

Liz pursed her lips at him, “Michael, wishing for something doesn’t reorder the space/time continuum.”

“Yeah well, the same time I was wishing, my grip on the shield molecules kinda slipped,” he explained. “The whole thing twisted and the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the ninth inner most ring of hell.”

Her mouth twisted into a moue of horror as she realized what he meant. “You woke up in Hank’s trailer!” she gasped. Shaking her head desperately, she clutched at his arms, “Michael, we’ve got to get you out of there!”

Touched by her concern, he cupped her cheek with his palm to force her to look at him. “Hey, calm down! One thing at a time; we’ve got way more important problems to deal with,” he told her sternly. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t know what today is.”

Tears leaked out of her eyes as she gazed up at him, his unwelcome reminder of what awaited her sending a shiver of apprehension down her spine. His name spilled from her trembling lips, “Michael…”

“It’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out…” he soothed as he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss against the crown of her hair.

An angry voice tore into their reverie, “What the hell are you doing with my girlfriend?”

Author's Note
************************************************************
1. Yep. I know I suck to leave it there. More to come. Mu-wa-ha-ha!

Part Eight: Confrontations

The pair broke apart in surprise to find an irate Kyle glaring at them. Unthinkingly, Michael snapped back, “Chill out, Buddha boy. Can’t you see she’s upset?”

Kyle’s face twisted into irritated snarl as he clenched his fists, “What did you just call me?”

Michael blinked, blindsided by Kyle’s hostile response. Intellectually, he knew he should’ve expected it, but it was one thing to know you were five years in the past and another to be confronted with actual proof. The Kyle he knew would’ve accepted the tag and immediately alternated worrying over Liz with ragging on his hair. This Kyle only heard an insult from some guy apparently macking on his girlfriend. He was staggered by how much the thought of Kyle not being his friend anymore shook him.

Thankfully, Liz didn’t waste any time on shock. This was the perfect opportunity for her to break up with Kyle and she wasn’t about to miss it. Slipping out of Michael’s arms, she stationed herself between the boys immediately. “Kyle, stop!” she barked out, glaring up at her old friend as she planted hands on her hips. “Michael’s a friend of mine! This is just like you getting upset over me hugging Alex!”

Behind her, Michael fought hard to cover his wince at her description of their relationship. As if he needed any extra confirmation that Liz only thought of him as a brother…

Unaware of his turmoil, Liz continued, “My Grandma Claudia may have a blood clot in her brain. She has to go in for tests and if the doctors can’t fix it, she could die!” Shaken by the very real story she was feeding him, Liz paused to wrap her arms around herself as she frowned up at Kyle tearfully. “So excuse me if I’m not in the mood to deal with another round of why-my-girlfriend-shouldn’t-have-guy-friends ala Kyle Valenti.”

Taken back by her ferocity, Kyle held up his hands in supplication. “Jeez, Liz – I wasn’t saying that!” Stepping forward, he tried to draw her into his arms. “I’m sorry about your grandma, but how the hell was I supposed to know you’re friends with Guerin? It’s not like you’ve ever mentioned him before, so excuse me if it was a shock to turn a corner and find him with his hands all over you!”

Shaking free of his grip, Liz glowered at him, “He didn’t have his hands all over me! He was giving me a hug! Friends do that, you know! Especially when one of them is upset!”

“He wasn’t just hugging you!” Kyle bit back. “He was kissing the top of your head!”

Liz rolled her eyes dismissively, “That’s what you’re upset about? Kyle, my dad kisses the top of my head.” Pressing a hand to her forehead, she took a deep breath. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

An icy wave of worry flashed through Kyle. “Liz-” he began entreatingly, but she cut him off.

“Look, Kyle,” she said with a weary sigh, “I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

“Because of Guerin?” he growled as he glared angrily at the other boy over her head. Michael met his eyes unflinchingly, having caught on to what Liz intended to do.

“No,” the little brunette replied resolutely. “Because of your jealousy. I’m tired of having to look over my shoulder every time I need to talk to someone of the opposite sex.” Liz knew she was exaggerating, but it was the best plan she could come up with to break up with Kyle without having to drag things out. And honestly, his resentment over her talking to other guys had chaffed at the time. She already missed the more adult, enlightened Kyle they’d left behind in 2004.

They were drawing a crowd, and Liz knew she had to get this over with quickly. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I’ve got a lot going on right now and I just can’t deal with you freaking out on me on top of everything else.” Reaching in to grab the book she needed for first period from her locker, she closed the door and met her soon-to-be-exe’s eyes decisively. “I hope we can still be friends, but I’ll understand if we can’t.”

She turned to walk away, but was wrenched back by Kyle’s hand on her forearm.

“Don’t do this, Liz!” the distraught teen pleaded, his knuckles whitened by the force of his grip on her arm. “I-”

Whatever else he might have said was lost by Michael slamming him up against a locker. “I don’t care how upset you are, she bruises from your manhandling and we’re gonna have words,” the taller boy snarled down at him. “Is there an understanding between us?”

Kyle paled at the knowledge of how tightly he’d been gripping her arm. Guerin was right, he knew better than to let himself get out of control like that. She was such a tiny little thing, even without meaning to he could have seriously hurt her. He met Michael’s angry eyes with grudging respect and nodded. His nod was returned gruffly and Guerin stepped back as he released him. Beside them, Liz watched their interplay with wide eyes as she clutched her book to her chest. “I’m sorry, Liz,” Kyle told her sincerely. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Unable to stand seeing Kyle so distressed, Liz slipped forward and gave him a one armed hug. “S’okay. Friends?”

“Friends,” Kyle repeated bitterly, not entirely sure that was a promise he’d be able to keep.

“Okay, show’s over!” Michael barked at their lingering audience. “Don’t you people have places you need to be?” The group watching them scattered as the bell began to ring.

Stepping away from Liz, Kyle faded into the dispersing crowd. Michael squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as she watched him go.

“You did good,” Michael reassured her. “Better to get it over with now than to have things play out like they did last time.”

“I know,” she said wretchedly. “Doesn’t make me feel like any less of a bad guy, though.” Michael slid an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. “I miss Kyle,” she confessed as he released her, referring to the older, pacifist version of the jock who’d just stalked away from them.

“Yeah,” Michael echoed bleakly. “Me too.” Realizing the hall was mostly empty, he shook off his melancholy. “We’d better get to class.”

“Ugh,” Liz shook her head. “We have three years of high school to do, again. Maybe we shoulda just let the FBI take us.”

“Funny, Parker,” he smirked as he nudged her in the direction of her class. “Just for that, you have to wait until after school to hear my brilliant plan.”

“Brilliant plan, Michael?” she queried as he slipped away from her.

“I’ve got it covered,” he called over his shoulder without turning. “Go to class, woman!”

A teacher stuck her head out in the hall at the noise and arched an eyebrow to see Liz standing there by herself. Growling under her breath about stupid stubborn alien men, Liz stomped off as she struggled to remember which room her first class of the day had been in sophomore year.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” – The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

Chapter 9: The Untraveled Road

She’d phoned her Grandma Claudia as soon as she got home from school, her argument with Kyle starkly reminding her of one of the aspects of the past she desperately wanted to change. As surprised as Claudia had been to get a call from her in the middle of the week, that shock had been nothing compared to hearing that the most skeptical, scientifically-minded member of her family was claiming to have had a premonition of her death. Liz’s very real distress shone through and Claudia found herself agreeing to make an appointment for a CAT scan and a MRI before she realized it. The two had chatted for more than an hour after that, and with Grandma Claudia promising to contact her doctor the next day, Liz hung up the phone with a triumphant smile.

A quick glance at the clock made her grimace. After her ridiculously long day spent trying to remember how to be a teenager, she’d been hoping for a little time to decompress before having to go down to work at the Crashdown. Shaking her head as she headed for the closet to change into her uniform, Liz accepted that she wouldn’t be getting that particular wish. The conversation with her grandmother had gone on longer than she’d expected, but she didn’t regret a moment of it. In fact, if the research she’d done on strokes and their treatment the last time held true, she was hoping to have hundreds more just like it.

Michael had kept his word and flatly refused to let her in on what he was planning, telling her he’d meet her in the diner at the beginning of her shift. As much as she knew that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, not knowing the plan was making her a nervous wreck. Alex and Maria had both commented on her spastic behavior as the day drew to a close, but she didn’t know what to tell them. Between her worry over being shot and her joy at seeing her two friends alive, she knew she was acting practically bipolar. She’d blamed her uncharacteristic jitteriness on her break up with Kyle and nerves, but she didn’t think either of them were buying it. Realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, Liz sighed as she tied her apron tightly around her waist and reluctantly headed down to the diner.

A wave of Déjà vu choked her as she opened the door to the front part of the restaurant. Maria was bustling around frantically, sporting that crazy romulan hair-do Liz’d been too nice to talk her out. Larry and Jennifer, the alien-obsessed tourists, were just being seated and the big man in the corner was nervously awaiting the arrival of his skinny ‘friend.’

She bit her lip as she realized that Michael wasn’t there yet and kicked herself for not having a back up plan ready. Not that she thought Michael would let her down, but really – does it hurt to be prepared? If three years on the run had taught her anything, she’d learned that nothing ever went according to plan. For one blinding moment, she wished desperately that she still had her powers. As much as she absolutely hated to do it, this was one of those rare instances where a mindwarp would actually be acceptable.

Maria had finally caught sight of her in the doorway and was frantically trying to wave her in. Taking a deep breath, Liz pasted a plastic smile on her face. “You can do this,” she whispered to herself as she approached Jennifer and Larry’s table. “Hi!” She chirped, trying to make up for her nervousness with enthusiasm. “Welcome to the Crashdown! What can I get you today?”

She took their orders mechanically, falling back into the familiar role of Crashdown waitress with ease. The ringing of the front bell announced the opening of the door and it was all she could do to keep from sagging in relief at the sight of Michael’s too long spikes bobbing through the entryway. He’d been keeping his hair in close cropped spikes the past year or so before the Reset and she’d decided the liked it best either very short or long. The in-between look just didn’t suit him.

She slipped past him with a smile, and he followed her to the counter. Sliding onto a stool as she gave Jose the tourist’s order, Michael plucked a menu from the stand and pretended to look it over as he surveyed the room. He’d had to do some fancy footwork to beat Max here and he knew it wouldn’t take long for the errant king to catch up. He gritted his teeth when he noticed their shooter was already in place. Coming up to the other side of the counter, Liz plucked the menu out of his hands with a laugh.

“Please,” she grinned as she rested her elbows on the formica. “Like you don’t have that thing memorized backwards and forwards.”

“There’s just no being subtle around you, is there Parker?” he asked as he leaned towards her.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show,” she teased as she looked up at him through her dark lashes.

“Yeah, well it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do,” he quipped back. “There won’t be anything on TV I haven’t see for at least half a decade.”

“Michael!” she cried, batting at him indignantly. She knew he didn’t even like TV.

“Keep giving me a hard time, Parker. I can always leave,” he said as he stood, pretending to get up from the stool.

Liz tossed a nearby washrag at his head. “Sit down, you jerk,” she demanded as the front bell heralded the arrival of the skinny man. They both watched tensely as he joined his compatriot at the table near the door. “I think it’s time you tell me your brilliant plan, Michael,” she commanded quietly as the big man welcomed his partner with a rough handshake.

Having caught the rag easily, Michael tossed it to the side and beckoned her closer. “It’s like this…”

On the other side of the room, Maria blinked in confusion as she watched Liz flirt with Michael Guerin. She’d heard the rumors at school today of the showdown in the hall this morning, but she hadn’t believed them until now. The thought of good girl Lizzie Parker being wrapped around the town’s resident bad boy in the middle of a crowded hallway had been absolutely laughable until she saw the playful teasing her best friend had greeted him with. The only boy she’d ever seen Liz be that comfortable with was Alex, and Liz sure as hell didn’t look at him the way she was looking at Michael now. Maria watched the two of them as she worked. Their heads were so close together as they talked that their noses were practically touching and the tender way he’d reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Liz’s ear made Maria stop and stare in awe.

Damn. What she wouldn’t give to have a boy look at her that way just once. Like she was something special. Precious. To hell with his reputation! If Michael Guerin looked at her like that all the time, then Liz was one lucky girl.

Whatever they were discussing had to be serious, because Liz was biting her lower lip nervously. Michael must’ve noticed about the same time as she did, because he cupped Liz’s chin and ran his thumb across her mouth, forcing her teeth to release their sharp hold on her bottom lip. Maria watched enviously as he said something that made Liz smile tremulously up at him and pressed a kiss against her forehead before practically shooing her back towards the kitchen. Maria shook her head as she watched her friend disappear into the back part of the Crashdown. She and her chica were gonna have to have some serious dish time before the night was over!

The front bell chimed again and Max Evans entered the Crashdown. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the mellower light of the diner, and he blinked in shock to see Michael already seated at the front counter. Normally he had to practically drag his brother in here and even then they always sat at a booth in the back. To see Michael here of his own accord was strange enough, but at the counter? Max shook his head as he threaded his way between the tables. He’d told Isabel something was up with Michael today, but she’d told him he was being crazy since he hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what it was about Michael that was striking him as off. But as he watched Liz Parker come out from the kitchen and greet Michael with a wide smile that was immediately returned by his normally taciturn friend, his suspicions that something out of the ordinary was happening didn’t seem crazy at all.

“Michael?” he called out questioningly as he approached them. He was unpleasantly surprised to see the smile instantly drop from Liz’s face at the sound of his voice.

“Maxwell,” his surly friend returned with a nod. An awkward silence fell between them all as he slid onto the stool next to Michael. Max was confused by how tense his arrival seemed to make the atmosphere.

“Can I take your order, Max?” Liz finally asked brusquely.

Max smiled at her winsomely as he asked for a cherry coke.

“Of course,” Liz muttered sardonically as she wrote his order down. “I’ll be right out with that,” she announced as she flounced away.

Michael watched her go with a thoughtful expression. He was having a hard time being around Max, too, but he was making a conscious effort to keep it to himself. The Max of this timeline hadn’t done any of the things he’d come to hate his Max for. At least, not yet. And if he had anything to say about it, his brother would never be put into a situation where he’d be forced to relive those past mistakes. He’d decided it wasn’t fair to punish this young, innocent version of Max for the things his older counterpart had done. It appeared that Liz wasn’t making the same distinction.

Max frowned down at the counter as he fiddled with a paper napkin. Liz’s rough manner had hurt more than he’d liked to admit and he couldn’t come up with a reason for her ire. He felt like he’d been in love with her all his life and, while she didn’t know that, up until now he thought they’d at least been casual friends. Her sudden hostility on top of Michael’s weirdness today was throwing him off center.

“You okay there, buddy?”

Max blinked at the concerned tone, astounded to hear Michael ‘I-Don’t-Share’ Guerin actually initiating a conversation about his mental well being. Gaping up at his friend, he couldn’t help blurt out, “What the hell is going on with you today?”

It wasn’t until he saw his brother’s face close down into his trademark stoic facade at his abrupt question that Max realized what had been bothering him all day: From the moment they’d picked him up at the trailer for school, the stonewall expression that Michael normally wore like a shield had been utterly absent. He’d smirked, he’d smiled. Hell, Isabel had even gotten him to laugh out loud at lunch. Eyes that were usually carefully blank had shone with emotion since this morning. Until now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael replied coolly, his mask once again firmly in place.

Liz breezed past them, dropping off Max’s cherry coke on her way to deliver an order to a couple of tourists. Max was surprised to see her squeeze Michael’s shoulder reassuringly as she went by. The quick smile of thanks the scruffy boy shot her in return was not missed by their audience. Max frowned as he tried to wrap his head around what he’d just witnessed: Michael allowing someone into his personal space and smiling about it afterwards?! That’s it, he was officially in the Twilight Zone.

“Did you just smile at Liz Parker?” Max asked incredulously, unable to reign in his confusion at Michael’s uncharacteristic behavior.

Michael frowned at him, “I’m not allowed to smile now?”

“It’s not that! It’s just-” Flabbergasted, Max shook his head helplessly, “Michael, before today I would have bet that you wouldn’t smile at winning the lottery.”

In the front of the Crashdown, an argument was brewing. Michael had been watching the pair covertly throughout his conversation with Max and was starting to get nervous. Timing was everything and if all the pieces didn’t fall into place for this he didn’t know what he would do. There was only one thing he was sure of: Elizabeth Parker was not dying today.

“Thanks, Max,” he replied distractedly. “Good to know my friends think so highly of my emotional range.”

“You <b><i>have</b></i> emotional range?” Max spat shrilly, unsettled by this unfamiliar aspect of his fellow alien.

The tinkle of the front bell caught Michael’s attention, and he sagged in relief to see Sheriff Valenti enter the Crashdown and go directly to the arguing men’s table. Michael watched triumphantly as the Sheriff forced them to calm down and demanded to see the big man’s permit for the weapon he had shoved down the back of his pants. Michael’s palms itched with power as he watched the man pause, obviously considering whether he wanted to admit he had no permit or make a grab for the gun.

Seeing the soft glow coming from Michael’s clenched hands, Max looked around frantically. “What are you doing?!!” he whispered furiously. “What if somebody sees?!”

“Shut up, Max,” Michael bit out as he watched the Sheriff’s hand hover threateningly over his pistol as he stared the man down. Max finally followed his line of sight to the drama taking place at the front of the restaurant.

“What are you thinking?!” Max demanded as he grabbed Michael’s wrist. “Whatever’s going on up there isn’t our business!”

Michael tensed at Max’s sudden hold, but relaxed as the man up front slowly raised his hands and admitted that he didn’t have a permit. The Sheriff efficiently disarmed him and took him into custody, pausing to speak briefly to Liz on their way out the door.

At the counter, Michael watched this exchange with an expression of smug satisfaction. Clearing his throat, he glanced pointed down at his wrist and Max glared at him angrily as he released his grip. The dark haired boy opened his mouth to speak, but closed it with a snap when he realized Liz was approaching Michael with a radiant smile on her face.

Following his brother’s stare, Michael noticed Liz draw near exultantly. “Am I brilliant, or what?” he smirked at her, forgetting Max’s presence in the face of their clean victory. “And you doubted me.”

“Absolutely brilliant!” she laughed as she launched herself at him, hugging him ecstatically. “I’ll never doubt again!” she quoted with a giggle as she pulled back and beamed up at him.

Seeing the wide, carefree smile stretched across her face, Michael was struck by how long it had been in the other timeline since he’d last seen her smile like that. Unthinkingly, he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead as he grinned down at her and quoted back, “There will never be a need.”

“Since when can you quote The Princess Bride?” the sharp confusion in Max’s voice yanked them both back to the present.

“Got a problem with me expanding my horizons, Maxwell?” he asked drolly, stubbornly refusing to relinquish his loose hold around Liz’s waist. “It’s a classic with pirates and sword fighting. What more can a guy ask for?”

Max gaped at him in slack jawed shock, “Who are you and what have you done with Michael Guerin?”

Maria headed towards Liz with a quirked eyebrow as she watched the shorter girl hugging Michael. Interesting. Leaning against the counter on the other side of Max, she queried the group nonchalantly, “Anyone wanna let me in on why the fuzz just hauled off one of our customers?”

Liz spun in Michael’s arms, but didn’t step away. Looping an arm around his waist, she beamed at Maria and replied, “I noticed that the big guy had a gun earlier when I was taking orders. It was really freaking me out and Michael,” a quick pause as the dark haired girl squeezed him gratefully, “saw me panicking and told me to call the cops because New Mexico doesn’t have concealed weapon permits for civilians.” Grinning up at her savior, Liz continued, “The Sheriff thanked us for our quick thinking when he left.” Her eyes softened as she gazed up at Michael, “Who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t called it in when we did?”

“Yeah,” Michael echoed as he met the dark chocolate of her eyes with a warm grin, “who knows?”

Max couldn’t help but feel slightly queasy as he watched Liz and Michael lock eyes. This sudden closeness between his brother and the object of his desire wasn’t sitting well with him at all. “Um, yeah,” he agreed, clearing his throat uneasily. “That <i>was</i> really quick thinking. And to think, you usually complain about me dragging you to the Crashdown. Good thing you were here, huh Michael?”

His interruption seemed to drag them both to back to the present, and Max tried not to be visibly relieved when the pair finally let go of one another. Michael scowled at him sourly as he ran a hand through his spiky hair.

Seeing the tension between the boys, Maria threw her arm around Liz’s shoulders and tossed Michael a grin as she spoke. “Well I, for one, am seriously glad you decided to put in an appearance. In fact,” she added mischievously as she squeezed Liz’s shoulders, “to show our gratitude, I’d say you’ve earned yourself a free meal. Isn’t it time for your break, Liz? Why don’t you grab a booth with Michael and I’ll get you two something to eat?”

Liz gaped at her blankly as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. Was Maria really trying to set her up with <b><i>Michael</b></i>?!!

Michael smiled up at the girl who’d once held his heart. “Thanks, Maria,” he told her warmly, and the little blonde had to catch her breath at the wealth of emotions shining in his amber eyes. Lacing his fingers with Liz’s hand, he tugged her to his side as he headed for a booth. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

Max made as if to follow them, but Maria forced him back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Where you think <i>you’re</i> going?” She asked with a smirk as planted herself in front of him.

“Um, with them?” Max replied tentatively.

“Nuh uh,” Maria stated with a definitive shake of her head. “That’s a table for two there, pal. Can I get you anything else <i>here</i>?”

Watching Michael settle comfortably into a booth with Liz over Maria’s shoulder, Max realized there was no way he was getting past the little blonde without causing a scene. Refocusing on the girl in front of him, he shook his head. “Uh, no. I guess I better get going.” Digging in his wallet, he handed her a five, hoping the ridiculously large tip would soften her sudden unreasonable reaction to his presence, told her to keep the change.

“Thanks!” Maria chirped with a grin, still refusing to move out of his line of sight. “Have a nice night then!”

Recognizing that Maria was practically waiting to escort him to the door, Max wryly shook his head. “Right,” he said as he slid off the stool. “You too.”

Maria waved goodbye as he headed toward the door and shook her head. She’d known for years that Max Evans had a thing for her best friend, but his stubborn insistence on being the third wheel now that Michael had apparently decided to make a move on Liz seriously needed to die a quick death. Snickering to herself as she went back to work, Maria decided that her forcing him out the door was virtually a public service.

Outside the diner, Max watched in shell shocked confusion as Michael said something that made Liz giggle happily on the other side of the glass. The sight of his laconic brother bantering back and forth with a girl he’d never voluntarily spoken to before today shook Max to his core. Unable to watch his favorite dream playing out with Michael in a starring role, Max tromped unhappily to his Jeep. As he sat behind the wheel, Max fought down the urge to pinch himself as he recalled the events of the day. Michael laughing. Michael smiling. Michael <i>voluntarily</i> risking exposure. Michael hugging <b><i>Liz Parker</b></i>. He didn’t care what Isabel said, this was not right.

He had definitely woken up in the Twilight Zone.

A huge thanks to LadyGloria for being my stand in beta for the first part of this! Much love!

Chapter 10: Misunderstandings

Liz grunted as she wrestled the last bag of trash into the dumpster. Slamming the lid closed decisively, she breathed an exhausted sigh of relief that it was almost closing time. Between time travel and confrontations, this had easily been the longest day of her life and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. A scuffling sound from behind drew her attention. Spinning, she extended her palm in warning, prepared to blast whoever was sneaking down the alley before they could reach her, the loss of her powers momentarily forgotten.

“Easy there, Tex,” Michael chuckled as he took in her offensive posture. “Don’t shoot; it’s just me.”

Feeling vaguely stupid, Liz lowered her arm and shivered. Michael had spent so much time drilling the use of her powers into her head that her reaction had become instinctive:

<i>Defend yourself. Disable the threat. Protect your family. </i>

It was the response of Liz Evans, a veteran soldier at war for the lives of the people she loved. It was a response that had no place in the life of Liz Parker, 15 year old waitress at her parent’s alien-themed diner. Wrapping her arms around herself, she watched Michael approach silently as she tried to reconcile who she was with who she was supposed to be.

In many ways, the girl who’d inhabited this body yesterday was dead. She couldn’t return to being that carefree innocent, even if she wanted to. She’d slipped back into this life with scarcely a ripple, but the simple truth was that this wasn’t who she was anymore. No matter how much she’d have to pretend for everyone but the man who’d just stopped warily in front of her, Liz Parker was dead. The stunning thing, she realized as she looked up into Michael’s curious gaze, was that so was Liz Evans. With the reality that had created her nothing more than a memory, the true nature of the crossroads she stood at thundered into her psyche.

There was no destiny. She didn’t owe Max for saving her life. The mistakes of the past would not to be repeated. The future was undetermined and, most importantly, she was <b><i>free</b></i>.

Free to live her own life, to make her own choices. Her eyes welled as she’d absorbed the opportunity Michael had unintentionally given them both. After all, he had been just as bound by their old reality as she had been. This newfound freedom was <b><i>theirs</b></i>.

“You okay, Parker?” he asked gruffly as he cupped her cheek, brushing away the solitary tear that had leaked through her lashes.

“I am now,” she mumbled against the warm cotton covering his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Michael accepted her hug unquestioningly, sliding his damp fingers around to cup the base of her head as he welcomed her into his embrace.

“Must’ve been pretty distracted,” he murmured questioningly against her hair. “Been a long time since I was able to sneak up on you.”

Taking a deep breath at the reminder of how dependent she’d become on her empathy, she admitted quietly, “My powers are gone, Michael.”

He stiffened in her arms and drew back slightly to tip her chin up. “What? How?” he demanded in shock.

“We stopped me from being shot,” she explained softly, scarcely able to meet his eyes. “Never shot, never healed. Never healed, never changed.” A sick feeling filled her as she recognized how the loss of her abilities hampered her usefulness. She continued miserably, “I’m just a normal human now.”

The misery in her voice penetrated Michael’s surprise. Trying to ease the tension, he traced the line of her jaw with his thumb and said teasingly, “Like you were ever ‘just a normal human,’ Parker.”

Her dark eyes stared up at him tearfully and when she spoke, it was in a tone tinged with desperation. “I’m a liability now, Michael,” she confessed wretchedly, hanging her head and ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’m helpless. I can’t keep watch for our enemies, I don’t have any way to protect myself…or you. Without my powers, I’m just another person who can be used against you.” Disentangling herself from Michael, she took a small step away and whispered brokenly, “You’re better off without me.”

A bolt of panic shot through him at her whispered declaration and he hauled her back against him before she could escape to the diner. “Liz,” he bit out as he crushed her to him, his mouth going dry in alarm and robbing him of his voice. Struggling to find the magic words to convince her how mistaken she was, he shook his head desperately and began again. “Liz, you’re wrong.”

“Michael, please…” she wept as she tried to slip free. “Can’t you see - ”

“No!” He explosively cut her off, suddenly angry with her for being so ridiculous. As if the only reason she were important to him was because her powers made her good backup! After all these years, hell, <b><i>especially</b></i> after the last six months, he expected her to know better than that! “Damn it, woman!” he snarled down at her, wrenching her chin up to force her to meet his blazing glare. “Are those teenage hormones eating your brain?” Ignoring her indignant yelp at the accusation, he continued unrelentingly, “When Max told you the truth about us, I was furious. I didn’t think some stupid little human girl could be trusted to keep our secret, but you proved me wrong over and over!” Shaking his head as his grip on her face softened, he bent to press his forehead to hers. “You saved us all dozens of times before your abilities ever manifested,” he rumbled softly as his lids slid closed, willing her to believe the truth in his words. “Helpless is not a word I associate with you, whether you’re crackling with alien mojo or not.”

Silence filled the small alley, thickening with tension as a stray thought occurred to him. Maybe she was looking for a way out. The notion seemed preposterous, until he remembered how she’d staged her showdown with Kyle by the lockers this morning. Their current little confrontation held some uncomfortable similarities to that event. The blood in his veins turned to ice at the idea of Liz voluntarily walking out of his life. He opened his eyes to find that she had closed hers. The ragged sobs trickling from her lips fanned his mouth with short huffs of air as she visibly struggled to gain control of her emotions. His heart twisted painfully at the sight of her crying.

She shouldn’t have to cry, he decided. There was no reason for her to endanger her life, or the lives of the people she loved. They had another chance, there was nothing that said she had to waste it with him. If she didn’t want to be a part of his life, he would be damned if he begged her. Hell, it’s not as if he could even blame her if she didn’t. Everything that had gone wrong for Liz Parker last time had been tied to them, why would she want to risk it happening again? Smiling bitterly as he remembered how happy he’d been this morning to discover that she remembered too, he forced his hands to release her.

Liz’s eyes fluttered open as he firmly wiped all trace of emotion from his face, the old stonewall expression he’d abandoned with her settling across his features like an ill fitting mask. Taking a step back, he studied her mutely. Confusion danced in her eyes at his unexplained retreat, but Michael ignored it as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You want out,” he stated evenly, his insides curled in a tight ball of agony as he fought to keep from verbally lashing out at her. This was her choice; he would respect that even if it killed him. “Fine.” The finality in his voice was a death knell on everything he held dear as he pivoted and resolutely took the first steps out of her life.

Having had the very look she’d feared seeing from him this morning unexpectedly turned her way, Liz trembled, frozen in indecision as she watched him leave. She’d said he would be better off without her, but even if it were true, in that moment she knew she couldn’t help herself. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she realized that she was willing to be selfish. That doing the right thing meant nothing to her if it lead to him walking out of her life. The thought of living without Michael was excruciating, and the knowledge that he would never look back if she let him get away now jolted her into action. Dread filling her with every footstep he took toward the mouth of the alley, she lunged for him in desperation, “Michael, no!”

Wrapping her arms around his bicep, she clung to him, knowing at the very least he’d be forced to stop to pry her off. “Don’t go, Michael.”

Clenching his jaw, he stopped but refused to look at her. “Don’t make this hard, Parker,” he demanded in a detached voice that pierced her heart like an arrow.

“Michael, look at me,” she begged, snaking a hand up his chest to try and turn his head towards her. He stubbornly refused to be moved, and she settled for cupping the side of his face as she pressed herself closer. “Everything that went wrong before was because of me,” she explained unhappily. “Directly or indirectly, I was responsible for every tragedy we lived through, <i>starting</i> with the FBI finding out about you.”

Michael snorted in disagreement of that statement rather than take the opportunity to shake her off. Deciding that as a hopeful sign, Liz pushed forward. “I don’t want out,” she stated firmly, her eyes stinging with unshed tears as she laid her heart on the line. “I’m just terrified of being the cause of all that happening again. At least with my powers, I could help you.” Liquid tracks raced down her cheeks as she sagged against his shoulder, “Without them, I’m just one more person you have to worry about protecting.”

Her knees went weak with relief when she felt his body unexpectedly shift to envelope her.

“News flash, Parker,” he growled into her ear as he cradled her to his chest, “I don’t worry any less when you <b><i>are</b></i> equipped with an alien death ray.” Nudging her cheek playfully with his nose, he teased, “Hell, I may worry more. Your aim kinda sucked.”

She gave a watery chuckle as she laced her hands behind his neck and peered up at him. “We okay?” she queried, nibbling her lower lip nervously as she awaited his answer.

“If it’ll get you to stop leaking, then yeah, we’re good,” he retorted sardonically as he brushed the moisture from her face. Shaking his head as she beamed at him, he declared, “Seriously, I’m calling a moratorium on crying. No one’s hunting us, no one’s dead. I better not see another tear from you for six months.”

“Six months, huh?” she giggled at his demand as she watched him through her lashes, deliriously happy to have successfully halted his exit.

“At least,” he asserted as he smiled down at her, the ice in his heart melting as he accepted that they really were going to be okay.

Liz grinned back, snuggling even nearer to him in relief. Her smile faltered slightly as she realized how close they were. Michael’s palm was cupping her cheek, angling her face up to him. Her fingers had tangled themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck and his other hand was splayed possessively over the small of her back. Every inch of their bodies from chest to thigh were pressed together in warm contact, the hard planes of his a welcome counterpoint to her soft curves. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she watched Michael’s avid gaze follow the path of her tongue’s pink tip hungrily. The sight of those caramel eyes darkening, the pupils expanding blackly as the irises burned with amber fire, made it hard to breathe. What little space that existed between them seemed to shrink of its own accord until she could feel the whisper of his hot breath against her lips. Her mouth parted invitingly as her eyes slipped closed, his name a prayer on her tongue as the remaining millimeters separating them melted slowly away.

“Hey chica! You get lost out there?”

Maria’s voice doused their passion like a bucket of cold water. They leapt apart guiltily an instant before their lips would have met, the incomplete kiss burning between them as the backdoor to the diner swung open.

“Whoa,” Maria breathed as she took in their rattled appearance from her position at the door. “Look at me with the sucky timing,” she quipped as Liz blushed under her knowing gaze. “Hate to break up the fun,” she teased as she leaned against the doorframe, “but we’re swamped in here, Lizzie.” Winking at her friend, she called over her shoulder as she turned to head back in, “I’ll leave you and Romeo alone to say goodnight.”

“Oh god,” Liz moaned as she buried her flaming face in her hands, embarrassed beyond words by Maria’s verbal poking. Michael cleared his throat awkwardly, and she looked up to see him shifting uncomfortably next to her.

“You should, uh, probably get inside,” he told her, clawing at his eyebrow uneasily as he took in the crimson flush staining her cheeks. His fingers ached to trace the path of that rosy hue across her skin, so he slowly lowered his hand and clenched his fists by his side to keep from reaching for her. He wasn’t sure how they’d come so close to kissing a few short minutes ago, the events leading up to it were almost a blur, but he knew it wouldn’t have been a good idea for one very simple reason:

<i>He was in love with Liz Parker.</i>

It had sneaked up on him, creeping into his heart over the last six months spent exclusively together, over the years before spent on the road with their family. Without meaning to, she had slipped behind his walls and somehow become his everything. He’d tried hard to pretend that he loved her the way he loved Isabel, but in retrospect his self deception was glaringly evident. Maria had always pushed him for grand romantic gestures, but it was never a demand he’d quite been able to meet. All Liz had to do was wistfully wish for another chance, and he literally reordered the universe to make her smile. He was doomed.

There was no escaping it, and he’d finally gone past the point of denying it to himself. He was in love with Liz Parker. The unfortunate thing about that was that <i>she</i> wasn’t in love with <i>him</i>. Oh, she cared about him, of course. Saw him as a part of her family, counted him among her friends. Loved him in all the ways those things implied. With the memory of how she’d welcomed his advances tonight still pounding in his blood, it wasn’t even implausible to say that she was attracted to him. But the one thing she indisputably <i>wasn’t</i>, was in love with him.

And that made all the difference.

Realizing they were still standing there staring at one another uncomfortably, he cleared his throat again. “I, uh, just came by to tell you that I have an appointment with Mr. Evans tomorrow.”

Her embarrassment forgotten, Liz’s face lit up in a brilliant smile. “Oh Michael! Thank god!” She threw her arms around his neck in unthinking joy as she continued excitedly, “The sooner we get you away from that monster, the better! Do you mind if I come with you tomorrow?”

Michael’s hands hovered over her waist uncertainly. The instinct to wrap his arms around her like he usually would was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t realized until now how comfortable he and Liz had been with being in one another’s personal space. No wonder Max had given him such a hard time at the diner! He’d never been like this with anyone else before, and it was killing him to realize he couldn’t afford to be this way with her either. Settling for an awkward pat on her back, he carefully set her away from his body and stepped out of the hug.

“Okay,” he told her simply, meeting her eyes warmly to help ease the sting of him abruptly breaking their hug. “I setup the appointment for after school, we can head straight there once classes let out.”

“Okay,” Liz echoed feebly, strangely flustered by his uncharacteristic retreat. “I guess I’ll see you then?” Her voice lifted a little at the end, making the statement a question and betraying her own uncertainty of his response.

He couldn’t stand to leave her with that sad little moue on her face. Kicking himself for being such a pushover where this woman was concerned, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the crown of her head. “You’ll see me at school, Parker,” he chuckled as he stepped back. “If we’ve gotta do this again, then this time I’m graduating.”

Relieved by his return to their normal behavior patterns, Liz smiled as he headed out of the alley with a wave. “You better, Guerin!” she called to his retreating back. “I’m gonna hold you to it!”

Michael held a hand up over his shoulder to flip her off without turning, and Liz laughed to herself at his juvenile rejoinder as she went back inside.

***

Maria hadn’t been kidding when she’d said they were swamped.

Every seat in the place was packed when she came back in, and it was almost an hour after their actual closing time before they were finally able to shuffle the last table full of customers out the door. Eddie had finished cleaning the kitchen area in no time and hauled ass out the back door before either girl could ask him to stay and help with the rest of the clean up. Liz gritted her teeth at his defection and mentally counted the days until her dad would finally fire him for his repeated dereliction of duty.

Grabbing a tub of dirty dishes, Liz headed back to the dishwasher while Maria finished filling the sugar containers.

“So.”

Liz jumped. Her fellow waitress’ voice was a surprise, she hadn’t realized Maria’d abandoned her task at the counter to follow her into the kitchen. Setting the tub on the prep table, she turned to find the little blonde watching her expectantly.

“You and Michael Guerin,” Maria drawled as she smirked inquisitively at her brown haired counterpart.

“Maria!” She hissed, desperate to ignore the scarlet creeping across her cheeks. “We’re friends!”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” her best friend laughed. “Can’t argue <i>too</i> much with that; whatever I interrupted out there looked <i>awfully</i> friendly.”

“I…i-it was nothing,” Liz stuttered as she tried to edge her way back out to the main diner.

Maria resolutely blocked her path, refusing to budge as she prompted, “So, nothing’s going on, huh?” Shaking her head skeptically, she arched a disbelieving eyebrow, “What’s with all the hugging, then? I’ve never seen that boy voluntarily touch anyone but Isabel Evans and, from what I understand, you two haven’t been able to keep your hands off each other all day.”

Shrugging weakly, the dark haired girl replied, “It’s not like that. He’s my friend.”

“Right,” the blond replied, rolling her eyes. “A friend that you suddenly act like you’ve known for years that your <b><i>best friend</b></i> has never heard you so much as mention. When exactly did this happen and where was I?”

“I’ve known Michael since fifth grade!” she protested hotly, frantic to divert anymore questions that she didn’t have any honest answers to. “Seriously Maria, can’t you get over it? He’s my friend, it’s no big deal!”

Pursing her lips, Maria crossed her arms and tilter her chin up defiantly, forcing Liz to look directly into her eyes. “So. You’re telling me that, apparently out of nowhere, you two are close friends and nothing has <b><i>ever</b></i> happened?”

Liz squirmed uncomfortably as the unexpected memory of a kiss at the end of the world flashed in front of her eyes, followed up by their near miss tonight in the alley. Her perceptive friend saw the look on her face and gaped at her.

“Liz Parker, you little liar!” she yelped as she playfully slapped the other girl’s arm. “And you said nothing happened! Just friends, my ass! Tell Mama Maria all about it!”

“Nothing happened,” she reasserted firmly, deciding to tell Maria a little bit of the truth. Experience had taught her that nothing else would get Hurricane DeLuca off her back. Slumping her shoulders a little in defeat, she continued hesitantly, “Okay. We almost kissed, but it was a mistake.” Maria opened her mouth to demand details, but Liz held her off with an upraised hand. “Look, that’s not important. The important thing is that Michael’s my friend and he’s going through a tough time right now. Please Maria,” she begged, grabbing her friends hands entreatingly as she pleadingly met her eyes, “please just let this go. I promise, if something <i>were</i> to actually happen with Michael, you’d be the first one I’d tell.” Unable to believe she was actually having this conversation with the woman she knew to be the love of Michael’s life, she blinked her eyes painfully. “But I swear,” she pledged earnestly, “nothing like that is going on.”

Maria cocked her head disbelievingly and slipped her hands free to cross her arms over her chest.

“Tonight was just…a-an aberration.” Liz stammered under the force of her scrutiny.

“An aberration.” Maria parroted back flatly. Seeing Liz’s frantic nod, she shook her head. “Oh-kay, chica. If you say so.” Wandering over to start loading the dishes in the washer, she called over her shoulder, “You’re passing up on one prime piece of meat, though. That Guerin boy is gorgeous, and obviously nuts about you.”

Unsure how to reply to the ridiculous tail end of that statement, Liz gulped, “I’ll just, uh, go finish up the sugars!”

Maria chuckled to herself as Liz fled to the dining area. Sister was blatantly up to her neck in a river of denial. Liz obviously needed help – a hot boy is absolutely crazy about her, and she says it’s nothing?! Maria decided the bonds of sisterhood demanded that she do everything in her power to help Liz see the light.

“Oh yeah, I’m on it” she said with a wicked grin as she watched Liz’s shaking hands fill sugar containers through the pickup window. “Don’t worry chica, we’ll have you two sorted out in no time.”