CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
April 11, 2000, 3:30 p.m.
Roswell
"So then she said that had to be the worst date she'd ever had in her life," Isabel said, punching the button for the crosswalk. "And I said, oh, so you think that qualified for a 'worst date'? I've got a dozen 'worst dates' that are way worse than that. Top of the list would be..."
The light changed, and Tess tuned out as they started across the road. They'd been walking for fifteen minutes with Isabel babbling about something inane the entire way, be it boys, girls, make-up, hairstyles, popular music, or whatnot. Here she'd been over the moon when Isabel had invited her home, eager to spend time completely in the company of someone exactly like her, but had she not known otherwise, she would never have realized that Isabel was anything like her. She sounded like every other popular high school girl, prattling on about trivial subjects that left her first bored, then annoyed, and were now starting to set her teeth on edge. For all the times she'd dreamed of her first real time spent with the Others, this was not what she'd imagined.
So what did you expect? she asked herself as Isabel launched into a description of her fourth "worst date ever". Nasedo had been clear that although the Others knew they weren't human, that was pretty much all they knew. They lived as humans with "parents" who considered them human, so it really shouldn't be surprising that Isabel was rattling on about nothing in particular, should even be considered commendable. Isabel was, after all, doing a marvelous impression of an empty-headed adolescent, one she herself had used many times. It was the perfect cover, one made all the more necessary in an environment where they had only each other to confide in, where they had to be careful even at home, the one place she had never had to hide. For all that she hated about her dangerous and nomadic lifestyle, she'd always had one safe place where she could be herself, where there was no need to pretend. To not have that, to have to be on guard every single moment of every single day of your entire life, sounded exhausting.
"Exactly," Isabel said.
Tess blinked. "What?"
"You just shuddered," Isabel answered. "And I totally agree. I mean, what was he thinking handing me the check? Didn't he know that guys always pick up the tab on the first date?"
"Incredible," Tess agreed.
"At least it was just the Crashdown and not Chez Pierre," Isabel went on. "That would have been expensive." She paused as they rounded a corner onto a classic suburban street which could have been anywhere in the U.S. "I'm so glad you agreed to come home," she said, sounding suddenly different. "It's so nice to talk to someone...normal."
"Do you normally spend a lot of time talking to someone abnormal?" Tess asked, privately noting the irony of that statement.
"Yes. Well, no," Isabel amended quickly. "There's just been a lot of...stuff...going on lately, and it's so nice to talk about something completely stupid and inconsequential. Know what I mean?"
"I do," Tess assured her.
"Sometimes it's all just a bit too much," Isabel continued. "It's like I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I can't ever relax because I know it's coming...."
"But knowing doesn't help," Tess said. "It just makes it so you can't eat, and can't sleep, and when it finally happens, it's bad anyway, and it doesn't help that you knew. If anything, knowing made it worse."
Isabel stopped, stared at her. "Yeah," she said faintly. "That's it. That's it exactly. How'd you know that?"
Tess shrugged. "Been there, done that. So...what's your 'shoe', Isabel?"
For just a moment, Tess thought she was going to spill. But then the veil descended and Isabel resumed walking. "Oh, you know. Just the usual stuff."
Nothing 'usual' about us, Tess thought, nodding politely nevertheless. The longing she'd just seen in Isabel's eyes, the need to share your secret with someone, was something she was all too familiar with, and something she'd thought would be gone forever when she finally met the Others. It was incredibly frustrating to be inches away from the first of her own kind she'd met and not be able to admit that. Nasedo had warned her that it would be better to awaken the Others' memories so they could figure some things out themselves, but after a lifetime of having only him to confide in, the urge to just blurt out the truth was so strong, it was nearly overpowering...
"Here we are," Isabel announced. "This is my house."
Tess clamped her mouth shut, grateful for the interruption; if she'd done what she'd just been itching to do, Nasedo would have killed her. They'd turned into the driveway of a standard suburban house which bore more than a passing resemblance to many of the places she and Nasedo had called home over the years. Standard house, standard yard, standard car in the garage...but not standard in here, Tess thought as she stepped inside the door Isabel held open for her, feeling it instantly. She and Nasedo had stayed in many, many places over the years, from houses to apartments to hotels to, in one case, a drafty old mansion, all of which had one thing in common: They weren't really 'homes'. Oh, they'd lived there, to be sure, but that's where the resemblance ended. They were illusions, more akin to movie sets than actual places of residence, carefully crafted to appear normal even though there was nothing normal about her and Nasedo. She could feel the difference in the homes of the friends she visited, how theirs were real and hers was not, how the warmth and layers and feelings had crept into the very drywall. Their houses had pictures they'd scribbled lovingly taped to refrigerators; hers had the same, slapped up there by Nasedo because he knew humans did that sort of thing. Theirs had family pictures peppering the walls; hers had fake photos that changed with each relocation lest someone follow and identify them. Theirs had old baby clothes, baby pictures, baby dishes, all kinds of baby stuff which embarrassed them no end; hers had a small sippy cup and a few baby toys she'd never actually used because she'd never been a baby. It was all pretend, and she was reminded of that every single time she entered a non-pretend house. Like this one.
"This is kind of our 'mud room'," Isabel was explaining, wrinkling her nose at a nearby boot mat festooned with muddy shoes. "Mom hates dirt in the kitchen..."
"Bananas," Tess murmured, reading the scribbles on a chalkboard near the kitchen door. "Barbeque potato chips. Oatmeal squares. Macaroni and cheese. Tossed salad."
"That's the dinner menus and the shopping list," Isabel said. "Or, rather, that's where we write what we want Mom to get from the grocery store. We're not allowed to write on the actual list because she says we make it all messy."
"Who drew all these cute pictures?" Tess asked, pointing to the smiling banana and the grinning potato chip.
"My Dad," Isabel answered. "Sometimes you'd never know he has a sense of humor, but for some reason he does when it comes to Mom's shopping list."
"Dill pickles," Tess continued, running her finger down the list. "Yogurt, rye bread, I...'I love you'?"
"Yeah," Isabel said uncomfortably. "He does that too."
"Oh, that is so sweet!" Tess exclaimed.
"If you say so," Isabel said doubtfully.
"What? Don't you want your parents to love each other?"
"Of course I do," Isabel said. "Just quietly. Privately. When I'm not looking. Anything else is just...eeww. Come on inside."
Tess followed her through the kitchen and down a hallway which was decorated with dozens of framed photographs. "This is you," Tess said, pausing before a large frame with one large oval surrounded by eleven small ones, ten of which were filled.
"Those are our school pictures," Isabel said. "First grade through tenth. Senior picture goes in the big one. That's my brother."
Tess's heart raced as her eyes moved to the next frame with a similar layout filled with pictures of a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy. "He looks...serious," she ventured.
"Oh, yes," Isabel said, a faint note of derision in her voice. "Max is always serious. Except when he isn't."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing," Isabel said lightly. "Just a sisterly jab."
"So many pictures," Tess said, her eyes sweeping the hallway. "There must be dozens."
"That's my mom," Isabel said with equal parts exasperation and fondness. "She gets all weepy when she talks about us as kids. She can be a little overprotective, but she means well. She loves us to pieces."
"Are those your parents?" Tess asked, stopping before another picture.
"When they were in college," Isabel nodded. "They don't look like that any more."
"Kind of like baby pictures," Tess said. "Those are always so embarrassing. Where are yours?"
"Tucked away somewhere, thank God," Isabel said casually. "My room is down here."
Good save, Tess thought, knowing full well that Isabel and Max didn't have any baby pictures for the same reason she didn't—they'd never been babies. She followed her further down the hall, pausing again before a series of marks on the wall.
"What's this?"
"Oh," Isabel sighed. "That. That's a record of our height. Every year Mom and Dad would make us back up to the wall, and they'd mark how tall we were. Dad must have repainted this hallway three times, but Mom never lets him paint over that. She's sentimental about that too."
"Looks like they stopped when you were both 14," Tess noted, running a hand over the penciled horizontal lines, each marked with a name and a year.
"Yeah, well, we were getting pretty tall, and it was getting a bit silly."
"And they started when you were...6?"
"Guess that's when Mom first thought of it," Isabel shrugged.
"Wow," Tess said faintly. "You've lived here that long. I don't think I've lived anywhere much longer than a year. Have you ever lived anywhere else?"
Isabel shook her head. "Never. Why did you move so much?"
"My dad's job," Tess explained. "He gets transferred a lot."
"Does your mom mind?" Isabel asked.
Tess opened her mouth to give the standard answer, she's dead, which would produce the standard response, those twin gifts of sympathy and respectful retreat. "I don't know," she said, suddenly changing the script. "I never knew her."
Isabel's eyes widened. "Really?"
Tess shook her head. "Nope. She was gone before I was born, and my father never talks about her. It's kind of aggravating sometimes because I don't really know where I came from."
Isabel's eyes flickered, dropped. "Wow. That must be...hard."
"It is," Tess admitted. "It's lonely. And scary. It's like there's this big hole where I don't know the first thing about myself. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find out, or if I'll like what I find when I do. Oh...geez, I'm sorry," she added when Isabel's eyes grew round. "I didn't mean to dump that on you."
"No, no, that's okay," Isabel said quickly. "I...I mean, we...I don't mind," she finished. "Really." She gestured awkwardly toward the bedroom. "Come on in."
Tess glanced back toward the penciled measurements as she followed Isabel into her room, mentally musing on how they'd managed to wind up in the same grade. Someone had decided that Max and Isabel were 6 year-olds when they'd come out of the pods, but who had decided how old she was? Nasedo? Someone else? "We can study in here," Isabel was saying. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Got any pop?" Tess asked.
"Sure. What kind? Coke? Root Beer?"
"Anything as long as it has extra sugar in it," Tess answered. "Would you mind?"
"Of course not," Isabel smiled. "I'm always adding sugar to everything. Mom thinks I'm nuts. Sorry about the mess," she added, eyeing her sort-of-made bed. "I didn't expect to have anyone over. It'll just take me a sec to clean this up, and then I'll get the drinks."
"Why don't I get them?" Tess said. "In the fridge, right?"
"Yeah," Isabel said. "And there are glasses in the cupboard by the sink."
Tess escaped into the hallway and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. God, but she'd just come close to overplaying her hand. Nasedo would kill her if he found out she hadn't given the standard answer to the "mom question", but the thought of having someone to confide in, a kindred spirit at last, was incredibly attractive for more than just her from the looks of things. But she'd seen enough to know that simply blurting out the truth was unlikely to be well received, so it was just as well that she take a break.
When she opened her eyes she saw the measurements on the wall in front of her and reached out to touch them again. Max, age 8 read one. Izzie, age 9. They had lived in this house their entire lives, a fact which seemed incredible to her. What would it be like to stay in one place for that long? To have someone dote on your growth, put your pictures all over the place just because they liked looking at you, to be loved 'to pieces'? She'd never had any of that, and she felt a pang of jealously, not her first. The Others may not know as much as she did, but they had things she'd never had and never would, at least not until they figured out who they really were.
A door closed, followed by voices. Tess crept down the hall and into the living room, the voices becoming clearer.
"...just want to make her happy. And you're gonna tell me how to do it."
"It's not like there's a handbook," someone answered.
Tess's eyes widened as she peeked around the corner. It was the one Nasedo called Michael and...Max. His voice was rich and deep, as deep as those eyes, which seemed bottomless. She'd never been close enough to hear him speak before.
"...went to the French club meeting today instead of meeting me in the eraser room," Michael continued. "The French club...what the hell is that?"
"All right," Max said. "Romantic. When you're with her, act like she's the only girl in the room."
"She's usually the only other person in the room," Michael answered.
"That's a good start," Max said. "Um, try taking her out...some place nice. And surprises...they love surprises."
Tess listened in fascination as Max rattled off a list of ways to surprise a girl. This is my husband? she thought. Did she wind up lucky, or what? "How do you know women so well?" she asked, unable to contain herself any longer.
The discussion screeched to a halt as both Max and Michael looked at her first with surprise, then suspicion. "Don't let me stop you," Tess said quickly. "This is fascinating."
"Who are you?" Max asked.
"She's my friend," Isabel answered, coming into the kitchen behind her.
"How come we've never met her before?" Michael demanded.
"God, Michael, could you be any more rude?" Isabel scolded.
"Actually, it's kind of refreshing," Tess broke in. "I'm Tess."
"This is my brother Max, and our friend Michael," Isabel said, giving them a behave-yourselves look.
"Nice to meet you," Tess smiled.
Isabel reached into the fridge and handed her a bottle of root beer. "Here you go. I'll meet you back in my room."
Tess glanced from one face to the other, noting that she was clearly being dismissed. "Don't forget the extra sugar," she smiled, retreating immediately and hovering close enough to overhear.
"Okay, what's wrong with you guys?" Isabel demanded only moments after she'd left. "She just moved here. I'm helping her catch up."
"She looked pretty caught up to me," Michael noted. "Topolsky was a plant when she showed up at school. This girl could be too."
"She's a transfer student, Michael," Isabel retorted.
"She's a stranger, Isabel," Max said.
It was the same rich, deep voice, but this time it carried the unmistakable stamp of suspicion, of reproof, of...of authority, Tess realized. Whoever Max was on their home planet, he was definitely the one in charge here. I'm not a stranger! she wanted to shout, recoiling at his announcement even though it made perfect sense from his perspective. I'm one of you! I'm your family!
"Well it's not like I'm going to fall in love with her, and tell her our secret, and compromise our very existence," Isabel said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought we were supposed to be acting normal, right? Heck of a job you two just did."
Tess scurried back to Isabel's bedroom, arriving only moments before Isabel. "I am so sorry about that," Isabel sighed, plunking down on the bed. "They are so rude."
"It's okay," Tess assured her. "They don't know me. I understand."
"No, you don't," Isabel said. "They have no right, either of them, but especially Max, to..." She stopped suddenly, having apparently thought better of what she'd been about to say. "Never mind. Just don't expect courtesy from those two. I know I never do. So," she went on brightly, handing Tess the sugar. "What should we start with? English? Social Studies?"
Tess indicated the English book, but that wasn't what she really wanted to start with. What she really wanted to talk about was what she'd just overheard...and why she'd never heard any of it before.
****************************************************
Crashdown Cafe
"Large coffee, six sugars, no cream, to go," Brian Samuels told the young waitress behind the Crashdown's counter.
"Did you say six sugars?" the waitress repeated.
"Yeah, six."
"As in one, two, three, four, five, six?"
Samuels smiled faintly. "You can count. I like that in a woman."
The waitress raised an eyebrow. "I'm not officially a 'woman' till I'm 18, but thanks anyway."
"Is there a limit on sugars?" Samuels asked.
The waitress held up both hands. "Fret not. One blood sugar Molotov cocktail comin' up."
Maria, Brian read on the saucy waitress's name tag as she grabbed a coffee pot. Wasn't there a Maria on their list of suspects? Could be, given that said list sported at least thirty people, which was the main reason they'd gone to such lengths to narrow it down by soliciting information from those agents who'd been in Roswell. If only Danny had let him do the soliciting, they might actually have some right now.
"You'll need to stir this," Saucy advised, reappearing with a large Styrofoam cup. "The sediment at the bottom is impressive."
"Your concern is touching," Samuels said dryly, pulling out his wallet.
"Pay at the cashier," Saucy instructed. "What can I get you, sir?"
"Large coffee to go, six sugars."
Samuels' head swung around. "Bellow?" he said in astonishment. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Same thing you're doing, I imagine," Bellow answered.
"You're together?" Saucy said in a deeply ironic voice. "Now, why doesn't that surprise me?"
"Can I have my coffee please?" Bellow said tartly.
Saucy retreated with narrowed eyes, and Samuels turned on Bellow. "I mean it, agent," he hissed under his breath. "What are you doing here? You're not one of the agents I assigned here."
"No, Agent Pierce assigned me here," Bellow said calmly. "I'm getting his coffee for him."
"No, I'm getting his coffee for him," Samuels corrected. "And he and I went over the list of agents before I made the assignments."
"Then I guess he went over your head," Bellow said smoothly. "Last I checked, he's the Unit head, so he can do that."
"Here you go!" Saucy announced, brandishing yet another Styrofoam cup. "More sediment!"
"He doesn't want it," Samuels said sharply.
"Yes, I do," Bellow objected.
"No, he doesn't," Samuels insisted.
"Boys, boys!" Saucy admonished with mock horror. "If you're going to fight, fight over something worthwhile. FYI, deathly sweet coffee doesn't make that list."
"I'll take it," Bellow said, reaching for the cup.
"Like hell you will," Samuels snapped.
Bellow looked back and forth from him to Saucy. "Fine," he said sullenly. "But I'm telling."
He stalked out, leaving Saucy holding the coffee he'd ordered. "He's 'telling'?" Saucy said in disbelief. "I may not be 18 yet, but you guys are, like, 5 year-olds."
"Do you make it a habit to insult all your customers?" Samuels demanded.
"Only the ones who act like 5 year-olds," Saucy retorted. "Now what I am supposed to do with this? Sell it to the local dental association so they can drum up more business?"
"I'll take it," Samuels grumbled, grabbing the second cup out of her hands, paying the bemused cashier for both, and high-tailing it back to the motel where both coffees were still hot, Bellow was already there...and Pierce already had his coffee.
"Thank you, agent," Pierce said calmly to Bellow when he saw Samuels. "That'll be all."
Bellow's smirk faded at the dismissal, but he left, albeit slowly. "Danny, what the hell are you doing?" Samuels demanded just as soon as the door closed behind him. "I didn't pull Bellow in here, and on the way back from the Crashdown, I saw two other agents I hadn't assigned."
"What the hell am I doing?" Pierce echoed, settling back in the motel room's one chair. "Let me see...I think it's called 'running the Unit'. Yes, I'm sure that's it."
"I'm serious!" Samuels snapped, plunking the cups down on the table. "We're supposed to be under the radar here, and we can't very well stay that way if we bring in an army!"
"Gracious, Brian, calm down," Pierce chuckled. "Fine, I'll drink your coffee—"
Brian snatched the cups away, leaving Pierce's hand closing on empty air. "Listen to me," he said deliberately. "If Director Freeh gets wind of us, we're screwed, and attracting too much attention is a great way to do that. We agreed on how many agents we'd pull in. What gives?"
"What 'gives', Brian, is that I thought better of it," Pierce retorted. "And last I checked, I'm in charge, not you."
"So this is a power play," Brian accused. "This isn't about 'protecting the American people', this is about—"
"This is about finding Kathleen Topolsky," Pierce interrupted, "you know, the same Kathleen Topolsky you were so certain would point the way? We've got a laundry list of names and little idea where to start. The way I see it, we've got two choices—pull in agents now to find Topolsky and find out what she knows, or plant people here for weeks or months, even, to find out what she could tell us in a few sentences. I decided that more agents for a short period of time is better than more agents over a long period of time. And we're running out of time, Brian," Pierce went on as Samuels scowled. "She's been here nearly twenty-four hours, and we haven't found her. She's obviously capable of hiding herself, so we need as many eyes as we can get. If she tries to contact the aliens, we need to see where she goes."
"Assuming she's here," Samuels said. "You still don't know that. You're still just assuming that, and this is your solution? To have piles of agents wandering around looking anywhere and everywhere? Never mind Freeh; what about Valenti? Do you really think he won't notice his town's been invaded?"
Pierce pondered that for a moment. "Good point," he agreed. "See, this is why I put up with your cheek. Bellow!" he bellowed as Samuels winced. "In here!"
Agent Bellow reappeared much faster than he should have. "Stake out Sheriff Valenti's house," Pierce instructed. "And the station. I want someone there 24/7."
"Great," Samuels said in disgust. "Tip him off even earlier by plopping agents under his nose everywhere he goes. Yeah, that's a plan."
"Make it discreet," Pierce added to Bellow. "If he sees us, you'll answer to me. And don't look so smug," he added when Bellow gave Samuels a triumphant glance. "It was Agent Samuels' brilliant idea."
Samuels gave a snort of disbelief as Bellow frowned, gave a curt nod, and left. "You should be grateful," Pierce scolded. "I'm taking your advice to not underestimate our enemies, and I just gave you credit in front of a subordinate. Lesser agents would kill for that."
"Lesser agents would focus on the credit instead of the fact that this will blow our cover even earlier," Samuels retorted. "No thanks, Danny. You can have this one."
"Ye of little faith," Pierce said dryly. "We are the FBI, aren't we? We know how to do a stakeout. Wherever there are aliens, there's a Valenti involved; you're right about that, even if you don't realize it. But I do," he added with a smile. "That's why I'm the boss."
****************************************************
Tumbleweed Inn
"You're back," a voice called as Jaddo closed the door. "Good. Dinner's ready."
Jaddo rounded the corner to find their one table set, a candle burning, and Tess just pulling something out of the oven. "What's this?" he asked suspiciously.
"Dinner," she answered. "You know, the third meal of the day, typically eaten with family?"
"Very funny. What I meant was, what's with the Betty Crocker routine?"
"Betty Crocker was a baker," Tess corrected, "although I did make a pan of brownies. But that's dessert, and the mix was Duncan Hines. I think. Might have been a store brand."
"What I meant was—"
"I know what you meant," Tess interrupted crossly. "Can you find it within yourself to simply be grateful, and sit down and eat before this gets cold?"
Jaddo eyed her for a moment in silence before taking a seat, which seemed to make her happy. She was mercurial this one, practical one moment, emotional the next. Sometimes it worried him that this was the one tasked with easing the rest of them into the truth. Sometimes he wondered if she was the right one, if perhaps Dee wouldn't be better at it. That Tess was one of them made her both the best and worst choice; she might be more readily accepted, but she was much too close to the problem, and being an adolescent herself, part of the problem. Dee was also emotionally tethered, but had the benefit of maturity and a proven track record of instinctively knowing how to handle a crisis, even from a very young age.
"There we go!" Tess said with satisfaction, depositing a casserole dish on the table. "Macaroni and cheese. An American staple."
"And a burnt table top," Jaddo said, hoisting the dish into the air to reveal a scorched brown circle beneath. "Another 'American staple'."
Tess's face fell. "Oh. Um...we don't have a hot plate. Here, use the pot holder."
Jaddo set the dish on the pot holder and held a hand over the scorch mark, repairing it. "I gather Chinese wasn't your thing tonight?"
Tess shrugged. "I get sick of Chinese. And subs, and pizza, and Spaghetti O's. New house, new menu."
"The house won't be ready until next week," Jaddo noted. "And we've moved several times without a 'new menu'.
"But we've never moved here," Tess said serenely, holding out another bowl, cold this time. "Salad?"
It was a proper tossed salad laden with tomatoes and croutons, and Jaddo looked at it skeptically before deciding to hold his tongue. Whatever the reason for her sudden burst of domesticity, it would come to light in due time. Maybe she'd shot her mouth off at school or done something she shouldn't have. Wouldn't be the first time.
"Isn't this fun?" Tess said cheerfully, pouring dressing on her salad.
"If you say so," Jaddo answered.
"So how was your day?"
Jaddo blinked. " 'How was my day'? What kind of question is that?"
"It's a question people ask each other when they come back together after being away all day," Tess answered with an edge to her voice. "You know, normal people?"
"In other words, people not like us," Jaddo said impatiently. "Tess, what is this all about? You don't cook, and you certainly don't run around doing Betty...okay, fine, Donna Reed imitations."
"I told you, I got tired of take out. And it's good, I followed the recipe—"
"I wouldn't know," Jaddo interrupted. "I can't taste it, for the same reason I can pick up hot dishes without being burned. I repeat—what's this all about?"
"I was just trying to have a normal dinner for once!" Tess exclaimed. "Just normal people having a normal dinner. And Max and Isabel's mom was making macaroni and cheese tonight, so I—"
"Thought you'd do the same," Jaddo finished. "How fitting. Because they're not normal either. Their so-called 'parents' just think they are."
"But they know they're not," Tess said. "And they know other things, things you didn't tell me."
Jaddo's eyes narrowed. "Such as?"
Tess fixed him with a level stare. "Who's 'Topolsky'?"
"Who told you about her?" Jaddo demanded.
"I went over to Isabel's house today," Tess said. "Max was there, and Michael, and I...overheard a few things."
Isabel, Jaddo thought sourly. Leave it to Vilandra to muddy the waters, any waters she came near. Honestly, was that girl to be the bane of his existence for the rest of his life? "What did you hear?" he asked.
Tess's expression grew crafty. "Oh, no. You first. Who's Topolsky?"
"Tess, what did you hear?" Jaddo repeated.
"Who's Topolsky?"
"What did you hear?" Jaddo demanded.
"Who is Topolsky?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Jaddo said in exasperation. "Honestly, you're as stubborn as an ox!"
"Yeah, who am I like?" Tess challenged. "Anyone would think we're related. We're not, but Isabel and I are."
No, you're not, Jaddo thought privately, unless one counted being an in-law. But Tess didn't know that; he'd never explained the actual relationship of one hybrid to another save for what now looked like his ill-advised revelation that Zan had been her husband. Her reaction to that had been disturbing, so much so that he'd resisted the urge to tell her more because he couldn't be certain she'd practice discretion. "Is that what this is about?" he said. "About you being 'related' to someone? We have the Unit on the way, and you're nattering on about being 'related'?"
A flicker crossed her face, whether of pain of something else, he couldn't tell. "This is about you not telling me what I need to know," she retorted. "Tell me who Topolsky is, and I'll tell you what I overheard. Don't tell, and I won't either."
"I don't believe this," Jaddo huffed.
"Suit yourself," Tess shot back.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, or rather she did, stabbing her macaroni and cheese as though it had to be killed in order to be eaten. "Fine," Jaddo said at length. "Topolsky is Agent Kathleen Topolsky, the first Unit agent assigned to Roswell last fall."
Tess stopped chewing. "Assigned where? The school?"
"Her cover was a school guidance counselor," Jaddo confirmed. "Why? How did you hear her name?"
Tess pushed some macaroni around on her plate. "From Michael. He and Max weren't thrilled to see me. They were really suspicious, and when Isabel told them I was a transfer student, Michael said that 'Topolsky was a plant when she showed up at school', and that I could be too."
"What else?" Jaddo pressed.
"Then Isabel got all mad at them—"
"Typical," Jaddo muttered.
"—and said that they were supposed to be 'acting normal'. Aren't they always supposed to be 'acting normal'?"
Jaddo was quiet for a moment. "Topolsky was here for several months, but the hybrids discovered and exposed her, after which she left town. Shortly after, agents who had worked with her here began disappearing, then she disappeared. Now she's back."
"Why?" Tess demanded. "Where was she? What does she want?"
"I don't know. But I do know that she's contacted them. That's why they're suspicious of you, and rightly so. Did they say anything else? Did you see anything, hear anything else that would help us?"
Tess met his gaze briefly, then dropped her eyes. "Isabel said something to Max about falling in love with someone, and telling her their secret, and compromising their 'very existence'. She made other comments too, like she's mad at him about something. What was she talking about?"
Jaddo sighed deeply, pushed his barely touched plate away. "Last September, a waitress at a local diner was shot during an altercation between two customers, and...'Max' healed her. In public. In front of everyone else there."
Tess's eyes grew round, as well they should, given the magnitude of the indiscretion. "I...he can do that? I mean...wait...in public?"
"Most of the onlookers didn't realize what was happening," Jaddo continued, "but some did, and that set off a series of chain reactions which is what drew the Unit and Topolsky here. Not to mention that the girl Max healed discovered his true nature."
"Liz," Tess murmured. "So that's how she knows he's not human."
"Not just her," Jaddo answered. "Remember, several of their close friends are aware they're aliens. Needless to say, I'm not thrilled about it, although I must confess they've come in handy from time to time. But it remains a sore point among the Others, and rightly so."
"Yes, of course," Tess nodded. "But...but this is good!" she went on brightly. "They've told other people, so maybe they'll be more willing to tell me. But it's also bad," she added, suddenly crestfallen, "because it means he really loves her. Really, really loves her."
"What are you babbling about?" Jaddo demanded.
"Liz. I thought she was just a girlfriend, but...he saved her life. That's major."
"Nonsense," Jaddo declared. "He just thinks he loves her. He has no idea who he is, so how can he have any idea who he loves?"
His phone rang. Jaddo fished it out of his pocket and stepped outside the room, leaving Tess alone with her macaroni and cheese. "I didn't find anything," he told Brivari by way of greeting. "Wherever Topolsky is, she's laying very low."
"Hardly," Brivari said. "She just made her move."
"With who?" Jaddo demanded. "Zan? Rath?"
"Neither," Brivari answered. "Liz Parker."
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I'll be posting Chapter 96 on Sunday, December 2. (Good Lord, is it December already?) Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
I'll be back with Chapter 99 on Sunday, January 6!