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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




November 11, 1999, 4:45 p.m.

Evans residence





"Thanks for the ride, Mom," Philip said, opening his door even before the car stopped. "Figures today would be the day I'd have the car in the shop."

"No problem," Dee answered. "I wouldn't worry. It didn't look serious."

"My house was broken into," Philip answered. "Of course it's serious."

"Philip, please don't overreact. Diane was very nearly over the edge when I left, so you charging in there like a bull in a china shop isn't going to help."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Philip deadpanned. "Are you coming in?"

"I think you've got a big enough circus in there already," Dee replied, eyeing the crowd gathered on her son's front lawn. "Why don't I wait here for a little while in case you need me."

"Suit yourself," Philip said, closing the door and loping toward his violated house with the determined stride of a lawyer heading into court to argue a big case. Only there wouldn't be much to argue; from what Dee could tell when she hadn't been trying to soothe the distraught Diane, this was a run-of-the-mill, grab-n-go robbery of high ticket items like stereos and televisions. Nothing insurance wouldn't cover, and no one hurt, whoever did it having obviously chosen a window of time where no one was home. While it was never comforting to find one's house had been cased, it was good to know they were after your stuff and not you.

Philip disappeared inside the house and reappeared a moment later with the real reason Dee didn't want to come inside. She'd placed the call to the sheriff's station herself, Diane having been too upset and too busy running from room to room cataloging missing items, but the last thing she wanted to do was run into Jim Valenti. She'd kept a careful distance from Valenti since their last encounter back in '89 when he'd put his father away, which hadn't been difficult given that she and Anthony had settled in her hometown of Corona, nearby but under a different sheriff. A decade had passed without her ever encountering Roswell's sheriff, and she'd like to keep that record unbroken.

Her car door opened. Dee glanced sideways, then returned her eyes to her son, who was still talking with the sheriff on his front lawn.

"I thought you were due back this morning."

"And I got back this morning," Brivari answered. "Very early this morning, which turned out to be a plus. Did your daughter-in-law happen to notice her children weren't home last night?"

"She said they got in late because they'd been studying for some test or other," Dee said. "What is it with all the tests? Seems like all kids do these days is take tests. It's a miracle they have time to learn anything to be tested on."

" 'Getting in late' is something of a stretch. They got in about 7:00 this morning."

"Pulled an all-nighter?" Dee chuckled. "We used to save those for college, or finals at least."

"They weren't studying for any test," Brivari said. "At least that's not what I'd call a field trip to James Atherton's house with both the sheriff and the FBI in pursuit."

Dee's head whipped around. "What?"

"You heard me."

Dee's mouth worked for a moment before she managed to speak. "But....isn't that in another state?"

"Texas."

"They were in Texas last night?" Dee said in astonishment. "But why? How could they possibly know anything about Atherton?"

"From James' key, the one Rath took from Valenti's office," Brivari replied. "When Rath claimed he had a 'vision' while holding the key, I largely dismissed it, especially when Zan and Vilandra didn't say the same. We have the ability to connect with people, not objects."

"But....they do?" Dee ventured.

"So it would appear," Brivari sighed. "Add that to the list of what our hybrids can do that we cannot. At any rate, Rath obtained information from an inanimate object and started painting—"

"Painting?"

"Yes, painting. Painting pictures of Atherton's odd domed house. Somehow he made the connection to James because I found printouts of web pages about James on Valenti's desk. He'd taken them from Rath."

"Wait," Dee ordered. "Just wait. This isn't making sense. How could Valenti have taken anything from Ra—I mean Michael? And where does the FBI come into this?"

"From what I can piece together, Rath somehow connected the key to Atherton and broke into the UFO center to obtain information about him. He was apprehended and taken to the sheriff's station, where the sheriff found the printouts he'd made."

"He broke into the UFO center?" Dee groaned. "Good God."

"I gather Zan bailed him out," Brivari said. "But the damage had been done. The hybrids set off for Marathon, along with the Parker girl and her friend, and Valenti guessed where they were going because he had the printouts."

"And the FBI?"

"Saw them leave. And tailed them."

"Holy shit," Dee muttered, one hand to her forehead. "Let's skip to the end for a minute before I have a heart attack. They're here, so I gather they're okay? At least for the moment?"

"For the moment," Brivari agreed, gazing out the window at Philip's house. "The Unit should leave them alone for a short while, at least, now that they have what they want."

"What....you mean....this?" Dee demanded, pointing to Philip, who was still talking to the sheriff. "This wasn't just a robbery?"

"No. This was Unit."

"You're sure?"

"I should be. I'm the one who let them in."

"You did what?!"

"I wanted them in and out as fast as possible, and when Zan and Vilandra weren't here," Brivari said. "So I made sure the door was unlocked."

"Jesus!" Dee breathed. "Diane thought she'd locked the door. But what were they after?"

"What the hybrids took from James' house," Brivari answered. "Which was nothing of value," he added quickly when Dee's eyes widened, "because there was nothing there of value to take. But the Unit doesn't know that, of course, so they'll be treating anything from that house as possible gold."

"So….what happened out there?" Dee asked, bewildered. "Why would the kids come back after something like that and just go to school like nothing's happened? Did they know they were being tailed?"

"I arrived too late to have seen exactly what happened," Brivari replied, "but the hybrids were already on their way home; I passed them in the helicopter. From what I can tell, they heard footsteps and ran, apparently before they could see who was there. Topolsky knocked out Valenti, and had to wait until he regained consciousness and left before the Unit could move in."

"This just gets better and better," Dee said incredulously. "And does Valenti know who ko'd him?"

"Topolsky thinks he doesn't."

"But you don't agree."

"I'm not sure," Brivari admitted. "He was still out when I arrived, so I saw him wake up. He recovered much too quickly, in my opinion. It's possible he regained consciousness long before Topolsky thinks he did."

"Which means it's possible the sheriff knows the FBI is in town," Dee said wearily.

"Quite possible," Brivari agreed.

Dee was quiet for a moment, trying to assimilate what she'd just been told. "It's happening, isn't it?" she said at length. "It's finally happening. They're remembering."

"They're not remembering because none of them could have remembered this," Brivari answered. "None of them ever knew James, or were ever at his house. But they're definitely curious, willing to take risks to find out what they want to know, and capable of acquiring information in ways I hadn't anticipated. And now that they've led the Unit straight to the home of a known alien hunter, the stakes have changed."

"Great," Dee sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"What we've been doing."

Dee blinked. "What, you mean.....nothing? How could you possibly do nothing after this?"

"Topolsky is in trouble for not capturing them and for assaulting the sheriff, and the Unit still has nothing definite on them. If they did, they would have picked them up already. Total silence is still the best option."

"But we at least have to say something to the kids," Dee protested.

"Of course we don't. 'Total' silence includes them. They're not ready."

"But they can't be allowed to go blundering around like this!" Dee protested. "They'll get themselves killed! It's a wonder they haven't already. If they knew—"

"If they knew, it could be even worse," Brivari insisted. "They're young, impetuous adolescents, not to mention that I still can't risk getting anywhere near Zan. Telling them should be a last resort. But there is one thing that needs doing….and you're the best one to do it."

"Please tell me it involves more than just watching," Dee grumbled.

"It might," Brivari said. "When I said there was nothing of value at Atherton's house....I wasn't entirely correct."




*****************************************************




"Is he gone?" Isabel asked.

"Not yet," Max reported, peering out the window. "He's still talking to Dad."

"What's taking so long?" Isabel fussed, nervously sliding the pendant she'd picked up at Atherton's house back and forth on its chain. "They've been gabbing for what seems like an hour."

"More like fifteen minutes," Max corrected.

"And grown-ups say kids never shut up," Isabel muttered.

"Give him a break, Isabel. His house was just robbed."

"Our house was just robbed," Isabel reminded him. "Why, oh why, did you have to put the files under the bed? That has got to be the lamest place to hide anything, and the first place anyone would look."

"I didn't have a lot of time," Max protested. "We were barely home before Mom came in, and then we had to go to school. And besides, with the way they tore this place up, they would have found them no matter where I hid them."

"We should have looked at them on the way back," Isabel said. "I wanted to, but you were afraid they'd blow away in the jeep. God, Max, we don't even know what we had!"

"We had something somebody else wanted," Max said soberly. "We know that much. Don't flash that around," he added, watching Isabel twirl the pendant. "That's the one thing we took that we still have. We don't anyone to know about it."

Someone already does, Isabel thought. She hadn't yet told Max what the deputy had said about the nearby Indian reservation, and now didn't seem like the right time. "Why did you take that, anyway?" Max asked as she tucked it back into her shirt. "Did you recognize the symbol?"

"No," Isabel replied, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed. "At least not until we got home. That's when I went looking for the pictures and asked you to draw it."

"We clearly knew the symbol, at least when we were kids," Max agreed. "And I drew it this morning, so it's in me somewhere. But I would never have thought to take that. Whatever it's touching in me is buried so deep that I feel nothing when I look at it. So I was just wondering why you took it."

"It's jewelry. Girls like jewelry."

"Maybe that's it," Max allowed.

That's not it, Isabel thought privately. She loved jewelry as much as the next girl, but this piece wasn't her style. No, this had spoken to her, reached out and grabbed her in a way that was hard to define. For some weird reason, it felt right to have it around her neck. Like it belonged there. Like it was hers.

"Kids?"

Isabel flew off the bed so fast, she nearly lost her balance. "Easy, there, sweetheart," Philip said gently. "I was just checking to make sure you guys were okay."

"We're fine, Dad," Max said. "There doesn't seem to be anything missing from either of our rooms even though they're a mess."

"Probably nothing of any real value in here," Philip said, completely unaware of the irony of that statement. "The TV, the stereo, and a couple of old clocks are missing, along with your mother's pearls. That's all we've got so far."

"Grandma's pearls?" Isabel said.

"Yeah," Philip sighed. "They were her wedding present to your mom."

"What did the sheriff say?" Max asked.

"He was just giving me a rundown on what they'd found so far. No sign of forced entry, but then your mother said the door was open when she got home. Guess she forgot to lock it. The sheriff wants photos and any info we've got on whatever's missing so he can keep an eye out for it in pawn shops and such."

"That's it?" Isabel demanded. "That's all he's going to do?"

"That's about all he can do, honey," Philip answered.

"That's okay, Dad," Max said quickly. "We understand."

"Okay, well....I'll be with your mom. She's still pretty upset."

Max waited until Philip was out of earshot before rounding on Isabel. "What was all that about?"

"I just think it's interesting that Valenti isn't doing much," Isabel said.

"We don't want him to do much," Max said pointedly. "We don't want him around here, and we don't want him to find whoever did this because—"

"Because maybe he did this," Isabel whispered fiercely. "Ever think of that? Who was chasing us, Max? We don't know. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was Valenti, and he broke in here and took the files."

Max was quiet for a moment. "Maybe," he said finally. "But like you said, we don't know."

"But that would explain why he came right in here and started needling us," Isabel persisted. "And that comment about your room being more torn up than the rest of the house? And about me checking your room first? If he did it, that all makes sense."

"Yeah, I guess it would," Max agreed. "But we still can't prove it."

"But Dad might be able to," Isabel said. She paused, gazing out the door after their father. "We should tell him."

"No, we shouldn't," Max said deliberately. "We shouldn't tell anyone anything."

"Oh, right," Isabel deadpanned. "Which is why you didn't tell Liz, and she didn't tell Maria."

"Both of which you objected to, so you should be the first one agreeing to not tell anyone else," Max noted.

"Well, maybe you've opened the floodgates," Isabel argued. "And besides, this is different. Someone broke into our house! What if Mom or Dad had been here? What if they'd gotten hurt? This is dangerous now, so they should know."

"It's dangerous either way, but it'll be a lot less dangerous if they don't know," Max said. "Whoever did this wasn't after Mom and Dad, or even me—they were careful to do it when no one was home, and careful to make it look like an ordinary robbery."

"All the more reason I think it was Valenti," Isabel insisted. "And I think Mom and Dad should know that the sheriff in this town does stuff like this."

"We're not telling them, Isabel," Max said firmly. "I know you hate lying to Mom—"

"I hate lying to both of them, Max."

"Well, hate it or not, we're not telling them, and that's final."

Isabel gave a snort of annoyance and stalked out of her brother's room. He could be so pig-headed sometimes. It was one thing to keep something from your parents when it didn't affect them, but this did affect them—their house had just been robbed, even if the robbers hadn't been looking for what her parents thought they were. She thought the safety argument had been a good one, but Max, of course, had shot it down. Fine for him to tell Miss Bookworm and her Freaky Friend, but he didn't even want to tell their own parents. Talk about backwards. Still fuming, she rounded the corner into her bedroom and nearly collided with someone.

"Grandma! When did you get here?"

"I brought your father home from work," Grandma Dee said, hastily closing a dresser drawer. "His car was in the shop today. I was just....helping him make a list of what's been taken. Did you lose anything?"

"Not unless you count my marbles," Isabel sighed, sinking down on the bed. "No, no, I'm fine," she added when her Grandmother sat down beside her with a worried look on her face. "I'm just....rattled. And nothing was taken. At least not in here."

"You look exhausted, honey," Grandma said, patting her hand. "Your mother said you were up late studying, but looking at you now, I'd swear you were up all night."

Without warning, Isabel's eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. She was so on edge, so tired, and now this. It was too much. "I'm sorry," she said, swiping at her eyes. "You're right, I'm tired, and....it's just been a long day. A really long day. God, it seems like all my days are long now, every single one of them. I just want to go back to......to....."

"The way it was before?" Grandma finished gently.

Isabel nodded wordlessly, certain that if she tried to speak, she'd burst into tears. Grandma pulled her down gently, and Isabel stretched out on the bed with her head in her grandmother's lap, her eyes squeezed shut. The way it was before. If only Grandma knew how very much she'd hit the nail right on the head. Right now she'd give anything to go back to the way it was before, when no one knew what they were, no one was following them, and no one was breaking into their house.

"Just let it go for a minute," Grandma said softly, one hand stroking Isabel's hair. "Your father's list can wait. He's not even giving it to the sheriff until tomorrow."

Isabel's eyes flew open. "Grandma?" she whispered. "Can I ask you something really strange?"

"You can ask me anything, Isabel. You know that."

"But this is really weird. Really, really weird."

" 'Anything' includes both 'weird' and 'really really weird'."

"Promise you won't tell?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Isabel closed her eyes briefly; maybe this would be easier to say that way. "Okay. What if....what if it was the sheriff who broke into our house?"

"Then the sheriff would be breaking the very laws he's sworn to uphold," Grandma said. "And it would be difficult to prove because he'd be very good at covering his tracks, not to mention that he's the one heading up the investigation into the break-in."

A cloud lifted as Isabel was suddenly overcome with a wave of affection for her Grandmother. No protests, no exclamations of dismay, no announcements that she was nuts. Just simple, forthright answers. That was Grandma.

"Is there a reason you would think the sheriff was behind this?" Grandma asked.

Isabel shook her head quickly. "No. I just....it just popped into my head. You know, something along the lines of, 'who watches the watchers'. Maybe it was something I saw on TV."

"Well, whatever it was, I can tell you this," Grandma said. "I knew Sheriff Valenti's father pretty well because I grew up here. I don't know his son as well, but I'd bet the rent that neither of them would do something like this. They're persistent, and stubborn, and absolutely determined to get to the bottom of things...but not like this. I doubt Sheriff Valenti did this, but I'd imagine he wants to know who did every bit as much as we do."

"Right," Isabel nodded. "You're right. It was a stupid idea."

"Of course it wasn't," Grandma declared. "It was just an idea, that's all." She paused, the hand that had been stroking Isabel's hair dipping lower. "What's this?"

Isabel sat up quickly. She hadn't realized that Atherton's pendant had fallen out of her shirt when she'd laid down. "Just something I got at the mall," she said, tucking it back inside.

"It's pretty," Grandma said. "May I see it?"

Unable to come up with a good reason to say 'no', Isabel pulled the pendant out. "That's very unique," Grandma commented. "How did it break?"

"I....don't know," Isabel stammered. "Maybe I hit it on something."

"Or maybe it was broken when you bought it," Grandma said. "This is why I always save my receipts for at least a month after I buy anything."

"I couldn't take this back even if I wanted to," Isabel murmured.

"Sorry?"

"I....I said I don't want to take it back," Isabel said. "I like it anyway."

"I can see why," Grandma said thoughtfully. "It looks good on you." She stood up. "I should get back to work before your father fires me," she said dryly. "And I thought I was officious." She bent over Isabel, one hand on her shoulder. "Here's hoping life will be quieter in the future. And if it isn't, you always know where to find me."

"Thanks, Grandma," Isabel whispered.

"You're very welcome, dear. Oh, hello, Max," she added when Max appeared in the doorway. "You've both had quite a day."

"Yeah," Max agreed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"If either of you find anything missing, let me know before your mother, would you? She's not doing so well."

"Sure thing," Max nodded.

Isabel tucked the necklace back into her shirt before Max noticed it. "I was wrong before," she said after Grandma had left. "About telling Mom and Dad. We shouldn't tell them."

"Glad you see it my way," Max said.

"We should tell Grandma."

Max blinked. "What?"

"You heard me, Max," Isabel said firmly. "Grandma's a rock. She's practical like Dad, but not so strict, and she doesn't fall apart like Mom does. And she can keep her mouth shut. Like when Kyle's friends beat you up. She just cleaned you up and kept your secret. She's the one to tell."

Max shook his head. "Weren't you the one all worried about safety? And now you want to tell an old lady. I meant what I said; we're not telling anyone." He glanced down the hallway. "I told Michael we'd meet him at the Crashdown. Let's give Dad a few more minutes before we leave."




******************************************************




The Crater Motel,

Roswell




After what seemed like forever, the door finally opened, and Kathleen Topolsky pushed her way past a bemused Agent Moss into the room. "Where the hell were you?" she demanded. "I've been knocking for five straight minutes."

"I was in the can," Moss said.

"For that long?"

"You wanted to watch me pee?"

"Very funny. Did you get it?"

"Yeah, we got it," Moss answered. "Wasn't much to get."

"Please tell me you covered your tracks."

"Like you did when you whacked the sheriff?"

"Yes, like I did when I 'whacked' the sheriff," Topolsky retorted. "My 'whacking' him prevented him from seeing me or apprehending the suspects. If I'd only 'whacked' him a little faster, I might have apprehended them myself."

"Okay, okay," Moss said, holding up a hand. "Just yanking your chain a bit. Don't worry, we made it look like a run-of-the-mill break-in."

Topolsky's eyes bulged. "You....what? They know you were there?"

"Look, we didn't know exactly what we were looking for, and we didn't have a lot of time," Moss argued. "We had to move fast, so we couldn't be neat. Turns out the boy had it all under his bed, if only we'd looked there first. But hey, we got a nice TV, and some pretty pearls—"

"Where is it?" Topolsky interrupted.

Moss gestured. "Over there."

Topolsky glanced at the bed, which held a foot high stack of papers. "Is that it?"

"All we found."

"Have you looked them over?"

"Not yet."

"Get me a chair."

Topolsky's heart began to pound as she sank into the chair and pulled the stack toward her. She'd been denied her right to go through Atherton's secret room, but she would not be denied this little piece of it. Stevens probably didn't want her to, but he hadn't ordered her not to. His bad.

Forty-five minutes later, she pushed them away and put her head in her hands. Nothing. That was all she'd found: Nothing. The kids had taken a mishmashed handful of carbon copies and cast-offs that dated from the late forties to the mid-fifties, most of which were supply requisitions, pay stubs, and other office detritus. Some of this might be fascinating to those searching for an alien conspiracy, but absolutely none of it was news to a Unit agent already familiar with the alien conspiracy. If this small pile was representative of the rest of Atherton's stash, Stevens was right; it was useless.

"Coffee?"

A cup appeared at her right elbow. Wordlessly, Topolsky took the cup from Moss, who sat down on the bed next to her.

"I'm sorry about the chain yanking bit," he said at length.

"Yeah, right," Topolsky said, unconvinced. "I just love being the Unit's only female agent. I received the same training as you did. I passed the same tests as you did. What would you have done if Valenti had walked in on you?"

"I would have knocked him senseless."

"Oh, I see. It's okay if a man does it."

Moss shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Great," Topolsky muttered. "Just great."

"Look, Kathy—"

"Agent Topolsky. That's agent to you."

"Right. Agent Topolsky....whatever's in that pile or not in that pile, it doesn't matter. Those kids went there, and you tracked them. Stevens is gonna forget that unless you remind him. You got us closer, but don't expect him to pat you on the back for that because he didn't get everything he wanted. He's a guy; that's how he works. You're gonna have to drive the point home that he's still closer than he was before, and he has you to thank for it. You gals, you talk and collaborate and all that happy stuff. Guys, we yell. That's what we do."

Topolsky smiled faintly. "Is that your guy-to-guy advice?"

"No. That's my agent-to-agent advice."

Topolsky dropped her eyes. "Thanks."

"No problem. And don't you worry. We're getting closer, and they're getting sloppier. It won't be long now."




*****************************************************



Roswell Sheriff's Station




"Glad to see you back, sir," Hanson said as Valenti walked by. "I've got quite a pile for you. There's—"

"Later," Valenti said shortly. "Yes, I know I've been out all day. And since I've been out all day, what's another half hour, right?"

Valenti didn't bother to wait for a reply, taking the stairs as quickly as he dared, one hand on the banister. The dizziness had largely abated unless he moved too quickly; the long drive home from Marathon had been advantageous if only because it had kept him in one position for a prolonged period of time. The headache, however, was still pounding away, and as Valenti neared his office, he felt the goose egg on the back of his head, pulled his hand away, and held his breath. No blood. There had never been any blood, but given the way his head was pounding, it always felt like there should be. Blood or no blood, he was mighty grateful to sink into his chair, and not just because he was about to fall over. Blackwood had knocked on his door with news of the Evans break-in only seconds after he'd done something his father had never managed to do : ID the body of the man with the silver handprint. The book he'd borrowed from the UFO center was still on his desk, and he positioned the photo of the corpse beside it once more, holding his breath. Had he been dreaming?

He hadn't. The copies found on Michael Guerin had been fuzzy, but the photograph of James Atherton on the book's dust jacket was anything but. I did it, Dad, Valenti thought wistfully. That corpse had haunted his father for years, and his efforts to identify it had been unsuccessful, databases not being as robust in '59 as they were in '99. The irony was that it had been mainly good old-fashioned police work seasoned with a dash of guessing and a pinch of luck which had enabled him to do what his father could not. And just like with his father, the FBI had interfered, leaving him with only these photos and a whole lot of questions.

Not this time, Valenti thought grimly. This time the Bureau was messing with a different Valenti, so this time things were going to be different. Just as soon as he could see straight, it was time to pay a visit to the lovely Miss Topolsky and make that very, very clear.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Here's wishing everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving a happy Turkey Day, and I'll be back in 2 weeks on Sunday, December 5, with Chapter 18.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!






CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


November 12, 1999, 8 a.m.

West Roswell High School



"Kathleen! Wait up!"

Kathleen Topolsky came to a halt in the school hallway as Steven Sommers, West Roswell's version of the tweedy history professor, puffed after her. "I missed you yesterday," Sommers said, catching up with her. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much," Topolsky smiled. "Thanks for asking."

"I just wanted to thank you again for that exercise you put together for me," Sommers said. "I actually enjoyed grading papers last night."

"My pleasure, Steve."

"I thought maybe you'd like to see the results," he continued. "Perhaps we could get together later and go over them? Maybe hit the Crashdown, get a bite to eat....that sort of thing?"

Topolsky stifled a smile at the eagerness in Sommers' voice. She'd been interested in the results when she'd first proposed the exercise, but given yesterday's events, it was hardly necessary to go rooting through some two-bit history assignment to find out that Max Evans wasn't who he said he was. "It's just that I know how seriously you take your work," Sommers rushed on, "and your questions were so insightful that I figured they'd help out with your counseling."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Topolsky said. "I'm delighted it worked out for you, but I already know my kids pretty well."

"Okay, then....how about just the bite to eat?" Sommers suggested hopefully.

"Maybe some other time," Topolsky said gently. "But I appreciate the offer. Really."

Sommers' face fell. "Right. Well....thanks again."

"Any time, Steve."

Topolsky continued her trek to her office, greeting no less than a dozen students and three faculty members on the way. There was a "get well" card on her desk signed by the office staff, along with two others from students and one from a janitor. Maybe I missed my calling, she thought, sinking down into her chair. Everyone seemed to think she was such a boffo guidance counselor. It was weird to listen to Agent Stevens' tirades and then come here and get high-fived at every turn. He'd been somewhat mollified when he'd learned they'd retrieved what the kids had taken from Atherton's house despite the fact that the pile of papers had proven to be of no more value than the rest of Atherton's stash. She'd been privately hoping that Max had managed to walk off with something valuable, but no dice. Still, he'd made a very telling move, and she'd followed him, something she'd been at pains to point out to Stevens per Moss' advice. Stevens hadn't responded, but he also hadn't yelled, and Moss had warned her not to let the lack of a response deter her. "Keep saying it," he'd told her. "Men don't feel obligated to acknowledge they've heard something the way women do." Good advice, even if he did have a crush on her.

A knock sounded on the door. "Who is it?" Topolsky called.

The door opened slightly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Valenti. Topolsky plastered a smile on her face as she faced yet another problematic male in her life, this one higher on the list. "Of course not, sheriff. You're always welcome. So, what can I do for you?"

"I just needed your assistance on a small matter," Valenti said, hat in hand.

"Certainly. What is it?"

"There was a....a break-in at Max and Isabel Evans' house yesterday."

"I hope no one was hurt," Topolsky said.

"No. No one was home when it happened. And I was just wondering if you could tell me......"

Topolsky smiled faintly. "My whereabouts, sheriff?"

The sheriff returned her smile. "Of course not. No, I was just curious if there'd been any trouble with any of the students here at the school."

Topolsky made a show of considering for a moment. "I don't know of any of my kids who would do anything like that," she replied. Unless you count breaking and entering in another state, she added silently. Then she could finger a handful.

"Right," Valenti said. "Well, it's just a thought. I know you keep a close eye on your students here."

"That's my job," Topolsky agreed.

"I can see you're a person who takes their work seriously," Valenti continued. "Take it home with you. Take it on the road with you. I woke up with one hell of a headache."

Topolsky felt her stomach clutch. "Must've had your head in the wrong place," she said in what she hoped was a light-hearted tone.

"Yeah, must've," Valenti agreed. He tipped his hat. "Ms. Topolsky."

Topolsky remained at her desk, pen poised over paper, unmoving for the next five minutes, partly in case Valenti returned....and partly because she was terrified. What in blazes had that been about? The sheriff's tone had been casual, but the wording....was it possible he'd seen her? No! she thought fiercely. He'd been out cold. She was sure of that. She'd checked. But then why the comment about taking her work on the road? Why the reference to a headache? Perhaps he'd seen something, but not enough to identify his assailant and was fishing for a reaction? And I gave him one, she thought despairingly. Why, oh why, had she made that reference to the "wrong place"? She should have asked him if he'd slept poorly, or had some kind of stress in his life, or even if he'd tied one on last night, all perfectly logical counseling questions, but here she'd gone and dropped a breadcrumb. Idiot! she chastised herself, vaulting out of her chair and pacing the room. If Valenti knew she'd been out there, she was screwed. Not only would she be pulled back to Santa Fe, she'd be on desk duty for the rest of her career, and that was if she was lucky; if she was unlucky, she'd be emptying wastebaskets. There were simply too many people in the Unit who would be delighted to see their first and only female agent fall flat on her face, and the fact that she would have been brought down by a Valenti would only add insult to injury. Not this time, she thought fiercely. This time it was a different Valenti, and she was a different kind of agent. This time, things would be different.

A moment later, she was on the phone. Moss picked up immediately.

"I need all the information you can get on Valenti and his father, and I need it ASAP."

"How am I supposed to do that and tail the kids?" Moss asked.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, they're in school all day," Topolsky said impatiently.

"Not Guerin," Moss chuckled.

"Then let Butler babysit him," Topolsky said. "I can't do it myself. I need Bureau information, and if it comes from me, they'll ask questions."

"They'll ask questions if it comes from me too," Moss pointed out.

"Then tell them you need it because you're keeping an eye on the sheriff," Topolsky argued. "Please, Pete. For me."

There was a pause. "All right, then....'Kathy'. I'll have it for you before school's over."

Topolsky closed her eyes in relief. "Thanks. I won't forget this."

"Neither will I," Moss assured her.

Topolsky hung up the phone, marginally calmer now. She needed every scrap of information on Valenti she could get to formulate a strategy should he discover who she really was. A fellow agent's crush was a small price to pay to get what she wanted.




*****************************************************




The Dunes Motel,

Carlsbad, New Mexico




Room 210 was on the upper level of the dingy motel, and Daniel Pierce grimaced as he climbed the staircase, stepping around piles of something or other as he did so. It had taken Brian several days of digging and himself several hours of driving to get to this point, and now they'd find out if their information pipeline was as good as it had been, so many things having changed since Summers' death, none of them for the better. He knocked on the door, and waited. Not long, as it turned out, because it was clear from the look on the occupant's face that he hadn't been expected.

"What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Hello, Hub—"

"Don't call me that."

"Hello, Everett," Pierce corrected. "Nice to see you, too."

"How'd you find me?" Hubble demanded.

"Let me in, and I'll tell you."

"And why would I do that? You broke faith, young man. We had an arrangement, and you altered the terms of that arrangement with nary a word to me."

"I didn't alter a thing," Pierce countered. "Agent Summers was murdered—"

"I know that. You think I don't know that?"

"Then you know I should have immediately been appointed his successor," Pierce said. "But I wasn't. The Bureau's newest director wasn't pleased to discover the Unit operating right under his nose, and he's having a bit of a tantrum."

"And you couldn't tell me this? You just disappeared, and took my stipend with you."

"I've deposited at least a small amount in your account every single month," Pierce protested, "and right out of my own paycheck."

"Damned right it's 'small'," Hubble declared. "I depend on my income from the Unit to fund my work. Can't hold down a regular job with all the hours I'm on the road. You know that."

"Of course I know that—"

"Then why didn't you tell me what happened?"

"Because I didn't think it would last this long," Pierce said. "I'm sorry. It was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Hubble echoed. "A 'mistake'? No, son, a 'mistake' is when you can't balance your checkbook. This wasn't a 'mistake', it was 'abandonment'."

"Always the drama queen," Pierce sighed. "Are you even the least bit interested in what brought me here, or should I leave?"

"Do I get my stipend?"

"Since when is money more important to you than information?"

"Since you stopped payin' me," Hubble retorted. "You see this place? It's a dump. Didn't used to have to stay in dumps. Didn't stay at the Ritz either, but at least they weren't dumps. Pony up, or I shut this dump's door in your face."

"Fine, I'll give you the full amount for this month," Pierce said impatiently.

"And back pay."

"No can do. I don't have that kind of cash. Wait!" Pierce exclaimed when Hubble tried to close the door. "Look, we've had a working deal for a decade now: We give you intel you wouldn't otherwise have, and you sniff around where it's harder for us to go. But we all got screwed when Summers died, and that includes you. What makes you think you're untouchable? You wanted in the game, but being in that game means you get knocked around sometimes. Sucks for all of us, but them's the breaks. So stop bitching, and take what you can get."

"For what?" Hubble demanded. "What exactly would I be tradin' five months salary for?"

"Like I'm just going to dump it in your lap," Pierce chuckled.

"You're sure as hell going to dump somethin' in my lap, or I have no reason at all to even consider your 'generous' offer," Hubble said.

"Do you want to know about current alien activity in Roswell, or not?" Pierce demanded.

"You must need me, or you wouldn't be here," Hubble countered. "Do you want my help, or not?"

Pierce hesitated, framing his answer carefully. It had to be enough to pique Hubble's interest, but not enough to give away the farm. Not yet.

"It's another handprint," he said. "Only this one didn't kill."

"Bullshit," Hubble declared. "Jesus, what kind of an idiot do you take me for? They always kill."

"Not this time. Not according to Jimmy."

"Jimmy? You mean Jim's Jimmy?"

"James Valenti Jr., current sheriff in Roswell. He's the one who called it in. Now may I come in?"

The pause which followed went on for so long that Pierce was beginning to think he'd have to force his way in, but at length, Hubble stepped back.

"Don't make me regret this."

Pierce held his tongue, crossing the threshold quickly before Hubble changed his mind. The interior was in better shape than the exterior, which admittedly wasn't saying much. "This is better than I thought," he remarked, glancing at the semi-ancient fixtures in the bathroom. "Does the toilet actually flush?"

"Very funny. At least it's second floor. Cuts down on the ants comin' in off the parkin' lot. Start talkin'."

"First things first," Pierce said firmly. "No back pay. Are we clear?"

"And liftin' a finger means full pay in addition to this month's pay, which is just for hearin' you out."

"Deal," Pierce answered.

Hubble's face registered a modicum of surprise, as though he'd expected a much tougher fight. "So what'cha got there, Danny?" he asked, sinking down in the room's one chair, making Pierce sit on the bed. "Must be pretty good if you cave that fast."

"I already told you what 'I got'. It's a handprint that didn't kill."

"No, what've you really got. That was just a cockamamie story to get my attention, and a crappy one too because you know I know better."

"And since I know you know better, what would be the point of even using it? It's no story, Everett. I've got a handprint that didn't kill. First time. Pretty cool, huh?"

Hubble eyed him in suspicious silence for a moment, as though afraid he was being taken for a ride. "I'm listenin'," he said warily.

"September, this year," Pierce said. "A waitress was shot during an altercation between customers in a diner in Roswell. Witnesses reported that a teenaged boy, a local high school student, bent over her, put his hand on her....and all of a sudden, she wasn't shot. No injuries. The gun definitely went off, but no bullet was ever found."

"And the alibi?"

"Girl said she fell and broke a bottle of ketchup. We did find plenty of ketchup on the uniform, but we also found blood, and a hole that could be a bullet hole."

"Mmhmm," Hubble said doubtfully. " 'Could be'. And since I know the Unit would be all over this if it were an iron clad case, it's pretty clear it's not. You wouldn't be here if this was a slam dunk. What'ya leavin' out?"

"We did find blood on the uniform, but not enough to indicate a gunshot wound. And although there were several witnesses to the shooting, only two said they saw this kid put his hand on her, and those two were Crash Festival Tourists."

"Amateurs," Hubble muttered. "I hate amateurs."

"But Jimmy's no amateur," Pierce said. "The only reason we have the uniform at all is that Jimmy filched it off the waitress and handed it over to his Bureau contact, who's Unit, of course, although Jimmy doesn't know that. And get this—Jimmy's own son reported seeing a silver handprint on the waitress's stomach the day after the shooting."

"Did Jimmy see it?"

Pierce hesitated. "No. It had faded by the time he looked."

"Or was never there to start with. I hate to break it to you, Danny, but you just paid for nothin' 'cos you've got nothin'. Crash Festival tourists? Kids seein' things? That the best you can do?"

"There's blood on the dress," Pierce argued. "Why would there be blood on the dress if this hadn't happened?"

"A more important question is why would an alien want to save a human at all, never mind in public," Hubble said. "These are killers, Danny. You know that. They don't save people. They never have."

"Then why was there blood on the dress?" Pierce demanded. "What the hell happened to the bullet? Why did Jim Valenti contact us? Something's not right here, Everett, something—"

"Somethin' very well not be right, but it doesn't sound like somethin' alien," Hubble broke in. "Honestly, what would Jimmy know about this? He's just as amateur as those tourists. He never believed his old man, not for a second."

"He called us," Pierce insisted. "He swiped the uniform. He worked the case, he's still working the case—"

"And what's the Unit doin'?"

"The Unit is making a show of doing something useful by putting a greenhorn female agent in Roswell," Pierce replied. "She recently called for back-up because the shooting victim lost her diary. 'Nuff said."

"But they put an agent there," Hubble said. "So they did respond, even if they're not tootin' horns like you want them to."

"Kathleen Topolsky is not what I'd call a 'response'," Pierce protested. "And I'm locked in a battle with the Bureau's director, who not only won't install me as Summers' successor, he wants to shut down the Unit entirely. I can't go to Roswell without showing up on the radar—"

"So you want me to go," Hubble said. "I get it. I'm just not gonna do it."

"I said I'd pay you—"

"It's not the money, Danny. You asked me when money became more important to me than information, so now you see it hasn't. I'm just not gonna waste my time on a no go. I'm doing some huntin' of my own."

"Hunting what?"

"Another teenager," Hubble answered. "Uses a Ouija board to cover her tracks, but she's done it once too often."

"Impressive," Pierce deadpanned. "You're picking on my kid with a handprint, and all you've got is a kid with a board game. That the best you can do?"

"Watch your mouth," Hubble said sharply. "I've been trackin' this one all over the southwest for over a year now, her and her so-called 'father', and I've gotta figure out where they've settled now. Got some leads, and I'm not gonna drop all that for some two-bit story from a couple of tourists and a kid who never believed his father. No way." He stood up. "We're done here. Give my best to the Unit, or what's left of it."

"Everett, please," Pierce pleaded. "The Unit isn't pursuing this because they're making the same mistake you are—they're assuming a handprint can't heal, or that an alien would have no reason to heal a human. But what if he does? What if he needs this girl for some experiment, or something? What could possibly make a football player like Kyle Valenti say he saw something as bizarre as a silver handprint if he hadn't actually seen it? How does a jock make up something like that? Why would he even bother? Like I said, something's not right here, and I can't get near the place without jeopardizing the entire Unit. Which Topolsky will no doubt do all on her own, which is why I need you to do the sniffing you do so well before she tips them off." He pulled a roll of papers from his inside suit pocket. "Look it over. At least look it over before you say 'no'."

"I've already said 'no'."

"You might change your mind when you read that."

"And what makes you think I'm gonna read that?"

Pierce smiled faintly. "Because I know you, Hub. You go take your field trip, but you know as well as I do that you won't be able to keep your mitts off that."

"Out," Hubble ordered, holding the motel room door open. "And don't call me 'Hub'."

Pierce shrugged slightly and stepped outside, the door banging closed behind him. That had gone better than he'd expected. If he couldn't go to Roswell himself, Everett Hubble was the next best thing. He gave him a month, maybe two, before he caved.




******************************************************




Artesia, New Mexico




"Can you believe it?" Amanda squealed, literally jumping up and down. "He asked me! He actually asked me! I didn't know what to think after that séance thing we did, and the board said what it said, and I didn't really believe it, but I so wanted to, and I kept hoping, and now he finally asked me, and I just can't believe it, and I don't—"

"Amanda," Tess said firmly, taking her by the shoulders. "Inhale. Please. Before you turn blue and fall over."

Amanda blinked, then obediently sucked in a breath. "You're right," she nodded. "You're right. I'm getting carried away. I'm just so excited!"

"Yeah, I got that part," Tess answered. "But we have to cross the street now, and I'd really rather have you stay in one piece. Can you just hold that thought until we're on the other side?"

Amanda nodded, waiting more or less patiently for the light to change as Tess shook her head with amusement. As predicted by their encounter with the Ouija board, Chris DeVincentis had indeed asked Amanda to be his date for the Christmas Formal, sending snooty Kara into a tailspin. Kara had gone on a bender, wailing that something foul was afoot, and unbeknownst to her, she was slightly correct—Tess had sent a single image into Chris's mind of a dressed-to-the-nines Amanda that she'd hoped would induce him to think of their classmate in a different light than he previously had. It appeared to have helped, but much as she wanted to, she couldn't take credit for Amanda's date. All she had done was show Chris something he hadn't previously thought of; his reaction to that, be it good or bad, was his and his alone. And credit must be given to Amanda and the newfound confidence the "spirit's" prediction had given her. She'd carried herself differently ever since, something Chris was bound to notice when he finally looked up from his history textbook and actually saw who'd been sitting next to him in class since September. No, they'd really done the work themselves. All she'd done was give them a nudge.

"As I was saying," Amanda announced, picking up where she'd left off mere seconds before her foot hit the curb on the opposite side of the street, "I don't have a thing to wear. Can we go shopping? I want something Christmasy, something red or green or—"

"Blue," Tess said suddenly. "The blue dress with the deep neckline. Wear that one."

"Blue?" Amanda echoed. "Blue isn't a Christmas color."

But Tess didn't hear her, momentarily distracted by the sight of a pregnant mother with twins up ahead. It wasn't the massive stroller they were sitting in which had caught her attention, however, or the sheer number of offspring. For some reason she'd never figured out, she'd always been mesmerized by pregnant women.

"I said, blue isn't a Christmas color," Amanda repeated.

"What? Oh," Tess said, pulled back to the present. "But Chris loves blue. He'd love to see you in that dress."

"How do you know Chris likes blue?"

Tess stepped sideways to let the double wide stroller pass, giving her a split second to regroup. She couldn't tell Amanda that she'd broadcast a picture of her in that dress into Chris's mind which had obviously had an impact, meaning it wouldn't hurt to actually show up in it. "I asked around," she said after the stroller had trundled past and they came back together. "I figured you'd want to know. You want the blue dress, and lots of eyeliner, and we'll fluff up your hair, and wear that gold necklace your grandmother gave you....just leave it to me. I know exactly the look that will work."

"Okay," Amanda said doubtfully, "but how do you know?"

"I got the spirits to talk, didn't I? Trust me. I know."

Amanda lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. While Tess's Ouija Board trick always garnered her great respect, it also generated a good deal of uneasiness, something she didn't really mind. Living on the run for her entire life had taught her that having people be a little bit afraid of you wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Although it could put the damper on friendship. "Why don't you come in for a few minutes, and I'll show you what I have in mind," Tess suggested as they approached her house. "And then you can 'yay' or 'nay' it, of course." Although you won't, she added silently. All it would take was a well-timed image of Amanda in full regalia accompanied by a gaping Chris to convince her that Tess had the right idea.

"Maybe some other time," Amanda said nervously.

Tess glanced up at Amanda, afraid that maybe she'd overdone the whole "spirits" thing. But following her gaze, it was clear something else was on Amanda's mind. Nasedo was standing on the front porch, arms crossed, wearing that stony expression that made him look furious, but was actually his customary look. "Yeah," Tess sighed. "I see what you mean. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Maybe," Amanda said doubtfully. "Does he always look that.....mean?"

"Pretty much."

"Does he just look mean, or is he really mean?"

"He's....intense," Tess said truthfully. "Not mean, not exactly. Just very intense."

"Right. Well....bye, Tessie. See you tomorrow."

Amanda hurried on past the house, walking fast with her head down. "Is it absolutely necessary for you to stand there glowering?" Tess demanded when she reached the porch. "Honestly, I make some friends, and all you do is scare them off."

Nasedo blinked. " 'Scare' them? I didn't say a word."

"You don't have to!" Tess exclaimed. "You're wearing an expression that looks like grim death. No words required."

"I was merely waiting for you to get home from school because I have something to show you," Nasedo protested.

"Then wait inside," Tess said crossly. "At least let people cross the threshold before you glare them to death."

"Is there some advantage to being 'glared to death' inside as opposed to outside?" Nasedo asked. "Look at it this way—I saved us all a lot of time because if you'd brought her in, I would have sent her right back out."

"Great," Tess retorted. "As if moving around so much doesn't make it hard enough to make friends, then there's you, with all the social skills God gave an aardvark. Excuse me."

She pushed past him into the house, dropping her backpack on the kitchen floor before heading to the fridge for a drink. He followed her inside, waiting until she'd opened a can of Coke before saying anything.

"I'm sorry I put a damper on your social life—"

"You don't 'dampen' my social life, you preclude any social life," Tess broke in, exasperated. "The minute I get even a little bit close to anyone, anyone, you yank me away like I'm some sort of marionette on a string. I'm not like everyone else, and you tell me there are others like me, but you won't let me near them. Even you're not like me, although I guess I don't really know that because you've never let me see what you actually look like. And don't you dare tell me it's for my 'safety', or I swear to God, I'll scream."

"Even if it is?"

"Especially if it is," Tess said sourly. "I haven't the faintest idea what I'm being 'saved' for, or if it's worth it."

"It is."

Tess snorted. "Says you."

"I told you you're a queen—"

"Oh, for God's sake, you just made that up!" Tess exclaimed. "But I've got to hand it to you, you had me. For a couple of days, you really had me. And then I realized it must be some dramatic announcement just to shut me up."

"You're sure about that?"

"I'm not sure about a damned thing, but it's the only thing that makes sense," Tess said. "If you need to ruin my life further, I'll be in my room."

Nasedo said nothing as she slung her backpack over one shoulder and headed for her bedroom. He'd really had her going over the whole "queen" bit. What girl didn't want to be told she was a queen? But a couple of days later, after she'd fallen off cloud nine and had some time to think about it, she'd decided it must be a metaphor. He was always telling her how important she was. "Queen" was probably code for "important', nothing more. Which meant he really hadn't told her anything back when she'd begged him to answer one question, just one question. He wouldn't even do that. Although he hadn't destroyed her Ouija Board this time. It was still on her dresser, right next to the.....

Tess's backpack slid slowly to the floor as she froze in her bedroom doorway, staring. Her entire room was papered with photographs, big ones, 8"X 10" at least and all black and white. They were everywhere, on all four walls, on her desk, on her bed, and all were of some combination of three different people, two boys and a girl.

Footsteps sounded behind her, which meant he wanted her to hear him; Nasedo could walk absolutely silently when he wanted to. "Who are these people?" she whispered, picking up the nearest picture.

"These are the people you wanted to see."

Tess's heart nearly stopped. "You mean.....the others?"

"Yes," Nasedo answered. "The others like you."




****************************************************




Mescalero Indian Reservation




"Hey, Eddie," Jackie called, tidying the bracelets on the tray. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You either," Eddie answered, leaning against the side of her cart. "How's business?"

"Slow," Jackie said. "But Christmas is coming, and it usually picks up then. And then there's Valentine's Day and Mother's Day. The best part of the year is usually December to May."

"Maybe you should raise your prices," Eddie suggested.

"Raise my prices? Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because people don't like anything that's too cheap," Eddie said. "There's such a thing as too high, and such a thing as too low. Or that's what my grandfather says."

"Your grandfather," Jackie chuckled. "Is that why you're here? You're grandpa-sitting?"

"He doesn't need 'sitting'," Eddie said. "People tell all kinds of wild stories about him, but most of its bunk."

"Tell that to the girl over there."

"What girl?"

"The one over there," Jackie said, pointing. "The one he just scared the wits out of by grabbing her when she was trying to show me some old necklace she had, and....." She paused, looking toward the road. "And the one he's walking up to right now."

Eddie's eyes widened as he followed her gaze. "Damn it!" he muttered, taking off at a run.

You said it, Jackie agreed privately. Everybody knew Eddie's grandfather was a handful, which is precisely why she'd told that girl to stay away from him.

It was always wise to stay away from River Dog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 19 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!




CHAPTER NINETEEN



November 12, 1999, 7:30 p.m.

Mescalero Indian Reservation




Eddie pulled up his hood and walked as fast as he dared toward his grandfather, who was engaged in what looked like an intense conversation with a young girl who was handing him something, something small. What in blazes was he up to? His parents were gone for the weekend, he'd been left in charge of his grandfather, and he'd suggested they go down to the carts just for something to do. River Dog didn't go out much these days. Age had finally caught up with him.

Or had it? He certainly didn't look frail as he said something to the girl which made her step back in alarm. Swearing under his breath, Eddie resisted the urge to run, which might have frightened the few paying customers that were there. Jackie would kill him if she lost business because of his grandfather, and she wouldn't be the only one.

".....does this mean to you? Please, tell me," he heard the girl say as he approached them.

"This is dangerous," River Dog announced. "It brings death."

"Grandfather!" Eddie called with false cheerfulness. "There you are. We need to go."

River Dog had stiffened at the interruption, but the girl had seen her chance. Snatching something out of River Dog's hand, she hastily climbed into her car and gunned the engine as though someone were chasing her. A moment later, she had roared off into the night.

"Why did you do that?" River Dog demanded. "You scared her away!"

"I scared her?" Eddie retorted. " 'It brings death'? You really think that didn't scare her?"

"It's the truth," River Dog declared. "I only spoke the truth."

"Truth or not, you don't go around scaring away the customers," Eddie said.

"She wasn't a customer," River Dog protested. "She wasn't here to buy anything."

"Then what was she here for?"

River Dog gazed down the road where the girl's car had disappeared. "That's what worries me," he said quietly. "That's what I needed to find out."

"What did she show you?" Eddie asked. "What was that she gave you?"

"Something dangerous," River Dog answered. "Something I haven't seen in years."

"Like what? Hey....wait!" Eddie added when River Dog took off, walking much faster than he'd seen him walk in a long time. "What's wrong? Where are you going? What....."

Eddie slowed to a trot when his grandfather ignored him; he was heading back toward the house, so that's probably where he'd find him. But he wanted to know what he was up against, so first things first.

"Trouble?" Jackie asked sympathetically when he approached her cart again.

"That girl my grandfather was talking to….what did you say she had?"

"A necklace," Jackie answered. "A broken necklace with a symbol on it. She asked me if I'd seen it before, if I knew what it meant."

"What'd you tell her?"

"That I didn't know," Jackie said. "After I fibbed and made something up, that is. Customers always love it when symbols 'mean' something."

"So what kind of symbol was on this necklace?"

"A swirly thing," Jackie said vaguely, waggling a finger in the air. "I think. Part of it was missing because it was broken. Why?"

"Because my grandfather just told her that whatever it was, it was dangerous. He said it 'brought death'."

To Eddie's surprise, Jackie looked startled for a moment, then turned her back to him and started fiddling with her jewelry. He'd expected her to make some comment about his grandfather being a little loco, if not burst out laughing. He certainly hadn't expected this.

"What?" he demanded. "Why do you look so scared? Did you lie to her? Had you seen that symbol before?"

"No," Jackie said. "I haven't. But I think....I think my grandmother may have."

"Your grandmother?" Eddie repeated, bewildered. "Why would your grandmother have seen whatever was on that girl's necklace?"

Jackie shook her head. "I don't know. I don't," she insisted when he gave her a skeptical look. "I just....maybe you should go talk to River Dog about it."

" 'Talk to River Dog'," Eddie said slowly. "Okay, now I know you've lost it. Since when do you think he's even capable of coherent conversation? If your grandmother's seen this symbol, why don't I just talk to her—"

"No!" Jackie said sharply, cutting him off. "No, she wouldn't....she doesn't.....just leave her out of it. Please. For me."

Eddie stared at her so long that she started to fidget. "Draw it," he said finally. "Draw the symbol for me."

"I told you I hadn't seen it before," Jackie said. "And I told you, it was broken—"

"Then draw the part that was there. Right here, in the dirt."

"I don't remember," Jackie said stubbornly.

"Like hell you don't," Eddie said firmly. "I want to know what set my grandfather off. Either you tell me, or I'll go ask your grandmother."

Jackie shot him a resentful look before reluctantly bending down, using her finger to trace a pair of swirls in the dirt at their feet. "I have no idea what that is," Eddie announced after he'd examined it for a minute. "But you do."

"No, I don't," Jackie protested. "I told you I don't."

"You do, because you believe him," Eddie said. "I can tell you do. You believe whatever that girl showed you really is dangerous. But why? What do you know about it? And don't tell me 'nothing', because I'm not buying it."

Jackie dusted her hands off with a sigh. "That's the second time my act failed tonight. Guess I need to work on it. Look, I really don't know anything specific. I just....overhear things."

"What kind of things?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I said I don't know!" Jackie exclaimed. "I'm not sure. Just please leave my grandmother out of this. Talk to your grandfather about it. He's the expert."

"The expert at what?" Eddie pressed.

But a customer approached, and Jackie took the same chance the girl had, diving into one thing to escape another. Eddie considered waiting and trying to pin her down, then changed his mind. He'd probably get farther with River Dog.

He found his grandfather at home as he'd expected, and very busy....packing. Food, matches, water, and a change of clothes were all in a jumble on the floor as he stuffed them one by one into a pack.

"Where are you going" Eddie asked.

"Into the forest," River Dog answered.

"What...now?" Eddie said, astonished. "Why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand you packing up and hiking into the forest at night? Gee, why wouldn't I understand that? Makes perfect sense to me."

"And that is why I won't bother even attempting an explanation," River Dog said.

Exasperated, Eddie parked himself on a chair nearby, watching his grandfather pack. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I didn't mean to be so....."

"Sarcastic?" River Dog suggested.

"Yeah," Eddie admitted. "It's just weird, you getting all worked up over that girl. And Jackie getting all worked up over her grandmother."

River Dog stopped packing. "What's wrong with Jackie's grandmother?"

"Jackie saw the necklace the girl had," Eddie explained. "At first she said she didn't recognize the symbol on it, but when I told her what you said about it being dangerous, she got all weird and insisted I not ask her grandmother about it."

River Dog was quiet for a moment. "Others saw it," he said finally, "but few knew what it really meant. Only my father and I knew."

"So you've seen it before?"

"Twice," River Dog said. "In the sky. A long time ago."

"You're telling me the symbol on the girl's necklace....the one Jackie doesn't want me to talk to her grandmother about....the one you say is dangerous....was in the sky?"

River Dog nodded. Eddie closed his eyes briefly in frustration, wondering why everyone seemed to have suddenly gone nuts. "Okay, fine; it was in the sky, and I wouldn't understand. But whatever's going on, at least wait until Mom and Dad get back. I'm responsible for you while they're gone."

"And I'm responsible for this," River Dog said firmly. "I promised I'd keep watch. All these years, and no one has ever come. I thought no one ever would."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Eddie said. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I 'wouldn't understand'."

But his grandfather had stopped packing and was staring at him with the strangest expression on his face. "I also promised I would pass it on. Pass on the obligation. But I never have. Your father.....it wouldn't have been safe with him. But you....." He straightened suddenly. "Come with me."

Eddie blinked. "Who? Me?"

"Do you see anyone else here?"

"You want me to go tromping into the forest at night with you because of some 'obligation' that you claim I wouldn't understand?"

"Do you want to know, or don't you? If you do, hurry up. I'm not waiting for you."

Eddie sat there stupidly, unable to move until his grandfather finished packing and headed for the back door without another word. Then he suddenly came awake and went flying around the house, grabbing an extra pair of socks, a canteen, a loaf of bread. He caught up with River Dog at the edge of the forest behind their house, panting like he'd been running for miles. His grandfather wasn't even winded.

"Okay," Eddie heaved, glancing up nervously at the moon. "Let's go."




*****************************************************




Artesia, New Mexico




Tess stood motionless in the middle of her bedroom, gazing at the photos taped to every wall, arrayed on her desk, on her bed. The others. Nasedo had promised her she'd finally get to see them, but she hadn't really believed him. He never wanted to talk about the others, never wanted to talk about anything she wanted to know, anything that would tell her who she was or where she'd come from. As far as she was concerned, the month he'd insisted she wait for her introduction had just been stalling. She fully expected to have to make good on her threat to tail him when the month was up, and had even begun considering how she would do that. A couple of attempts had already failed; he'd trained her well, but he was the master, and capable of changing his identity at will. It certainly wasn't going to be easy.

And now it appeared it might be unnecessary. The photos swam in front of her as Tess' head whipped from side to side, unsure of where to look first and wanting to look everywhere at once. She finally settled on a photo of all three, snatching it off the wall and studying it the way a prisoner reviews an escape route. Three people, one girl and two boys who looked to be about her age. They were real. The others were really real. How many times had she asked herself if they were only an invention, a way to bring her to heel? Whenever they had to run, it was not only for her protection, it was for the others. Whenever they took up residence in a new place with new names and a new backstory, it was to protect both her and the others. Whenever Nasedo refused to answer a question, which was basically always, it was to protect both her and the others. If she balked, he'd hammer home the point that she was responsible for more than just herself, that a willingness to compromise her own safety also meant compromising the others. And because she wanted to meet these others someday, it had worked, more or less, until a couple of weeks ago, when she'd finally told him to put up or shut up, never dreaming he'd actually do it.

"Who are these people?" she whispered.

"I told you. They're—"

"No, I mean who are they to me? Are they related to me?"

"Not directly."

"No dodging," Tess said severely. "Are they family, or just more refugees from wherever it is I'm from?"

Nasedo paused a moment. "Family."

Family! Tess felt her heart pounding. Everyone had a family but her. "What kind of family?" she pressed. "Siblings? Aunts? Uncles? Or....." She stopped, scarcely daring to hope. "Or my parents?"

"Not your parents," Nasedo said.

"Then who?" Tess demanded. "You must have known that showing these to me would make me ask this, so there's no way I'm going to let you clam up now! Who are these people? Who are they in relation to me?"

Nasedo's eyes flicked down toward the photograph in her hand. "Left to right, they're your sister-in-law, your proposed brother-in-law, and....."

"And?" Tess prompted.

"And....your husband."

Tess's mouth fell open as her eyes dropped to the photograph. Husband. The boy on the extreme right was her husband? She'd always wished for a family, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this.

"So....I'm married," she said uncertainly.

"Were," Nasedo corrected. "You were married."

"Does that mean I'm not married now?"

"Not exactly."

"Does he know we're married?"

"No."

"Then we're not married," Tess said, confused.

"You were married," Nasedo repeated.

"Then we must have gotten unmarried," Tess said impatiently. "How could we be married if he doesn't know?"

"You didn't know until just now," Nasedo pointed out.

"Stop talking in circles!" Tess exclaimed. "This isn't making any sense!"

"Which is precisely why I've been reluctant to get into it with you," Nasedo argued. "It's difficult to explain."

"It's only 'difficult' because there's so much you won't tell me," Tess retorted. "If you'd just spit it out, it wouldn't be so hard."

Nasedo sighed heavily and sank down on the bed, snatching up the nearest photo and studying it. He looked genuinely upset instead of his usual cold and angry, and that was odd enough that she actually held her tongue until he spoke again.

"What do you remember of the time before you knew me?" he asked.

"There....was no 'time before I knew you'," she answered. "You were there when I came out of the pod. I remember that."

"Before that," he said. "Before the pod."

"You mean....back on our world?"

"Yes."

Tess hesitated. "Nothing," she said finally.

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing I can be sure of. Sometimes I think I remember something....I see something that makes me stop, and I wonder why.....but if I am remembering something, I'm not sure what."

"Interesting," Nasedo murmured. "So without a kick start, it might not happen at all. You're sure you don't remember anything?"

Tess's eyes narrowed. "Is this a trick question? Because whenever I ask you anything about where I came from, you shut me down so fast, it isn't even funny."

"And there's a reason for that," Nasedo said, pointing to the photo in her hand. "A long time ago, shortly after they came out of their pods, they asked a lot of questions....and we answered them. And the answers upset them so much that they.....forgot."

Flabbergasted, Tess lowered herself into her desk chair. Nasedo had never told her why he'd withheld so much, everything, really. He'd always told her it was dangerous for her to know, but he'd never told her why. " 'Forgot'," she repeated carefully. "What do you mean they 'forgot'? How do you get so upset that you forget something?"

"They had a kind of....well, I guess you'd call it a 'breakdown'," Nasedo answered.

"Like a mental breakdown?"

"Close enough."

Tess's hands shook as she looked at the photo in her hands. "What did you tell them? What could be so bad that it would make them forget?"

Nasedo's eyes fastened on hers, and Tess shivered involuntarily. So this was why he'd always been so maddeningly enigmatic: He was afraid she'd react like the others. What could be so horrible that it would cause a breakdown? She couldn't think of anything so horrible that it would do that to her. Even if the Special Unit showed up, that would only make her angry and determined to fight back.

"Wait," she said slowly. "You said 'shortly after they came out of their pods'.....so they were little kids. Like I was when I came out of mine. And I'm not a kid, so whatever happened to them won't happen to me. So you can tell me," she went on in a rush, excitement mounting like a wave. "Maybe not the part that sent them over the edge," she added quickly as his eyes narrowed. "But there must be a lot more to it than that. Couldn't you tell me some of it? And then you'll see that I'm not going to self-destruct, and you won't have to worry about it any more. Like I didn't when you told me I was a queen. You'll notice that I haven't exploded, or started to hear voices, or anything like that."

"You didn't believe me," Nasedo pointed out.

"I do now," Tess whispered.

Nasedo stared at her hard, like he was afraid she was trying to trick him, and Tess waited, scarcely daring to breathe. Arguing with him now wasn't going to do any good. He was worried that whatever had happened to the others would also happen to her, so flying into a fit wouldn't be a good way to prove otherwise. But what would be a good way to prove otherwise? Short of actually getting him to tell her something and not going crazy, she couldn't think of anything.

"Take my hand," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"I said, take my hand. I want to show you something."

Tess's eyes dropped to the proffered hand in alarm. Nasedo never, ever touched her. He'd never held her hand when she was little, never hugged her, never carried her, and the notion of taking his hand now was, frankly, more than a little creepy. "Why?" she asked warily. "Why does showing me something involve taking hands?"

"Our people can do something we call 'connecting'. I can show you a mental picture—"

"What, like I do? You're just going to make something up?"

"No, of course not," he said impatiently. "This isn't 'mindwarping', or whatever you call it. I meant a memory. I can show you one of my memories, or try to."

"How do I know it's a memory?" Tess asked suspiciously.

"Because this is different," he insisted. "You don't need to touch people to mindwarp them. We have to touch for this."

Or maybe that's just the way you mindwarp, Tess thought. Although if he'd wanted to do that, he certainly could have. It might have made both their lives easier. "Okay....a memory," Tess said. "Of what?"

"Nothing in particular," Nasedo answered. "Certainly not what upset the others. Just a small memory of your world. Of our world."

Our world. Tess stared at the extended hand, still uncertain. It was easy to forget that she and Nasedo were from the same world. That was one of the few thing he'd told her, one of the few things she'd always known, but it was easy to forget. He knew things she didn't. He could do things she couldn't. It was hard to believe they were the same species.

"Promise you won't just make something up?"

"You wanted to know. If you want to know, you're going to have to trust me."

"That wasn't an answer."

"Because I don't answer silly questions like that," Nasedo said sharply. "If you think I'm lying, has it not occurred to you that I could answer that question with a lie? If you don't trust me to not 'make something up', you shouldn't do this at all."

Tess's hands clenched into fists, unclenched. God, she hated it when he was right. Averting her eyes, she took his hand quickly, before she changed her mind. It was surprisingly warm and much larger than hers, and it clamped over her own with an authority that made her momentarily pull back.

"Close your eyes," he ordered. "Clear your mind."

And he makes fun of my Ouija boards, Tess thought dryly, recognizing the standard instructions for contacting the "spirits". But it was no spirit that caused the strange scene that suddenly appeared in her mind, as though a slideshow had just flipped pictures. No sooner had it appeared than her hand was released, and it was gone.

"What was that?" she asked sharply.

"Did you see it?"

"I saw....something. What was it?"

"You tell me."

"I...." Tess stopped, her eyes still closed, struggling to hang on to the vision, to describe it. "It was....outdoors. I think. Hills....a tiny sun....no....a moon," she amended. "Orangy. Almost an umber...."

Suddenly her eyes flew open. "But that's wrong," she said with an absolute certainty that came from God knew where. "It's wrong. There isn't one moon. There's.....three."

Nasedo broke into a completely incongruent smile that she couldn't ever remember having seen before. "Very good," he said, sounding sincere. "There are indeed three moons. And I only showed you one, so you remembered that on your own."

Tess's heart began to pound. "I did? I did!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the bed. "I really did! I remembered something! Show me something else," she demanded, reaching for his hand again. She'd hold his hand all day and all night if it meant remembering.

But he pulled his hand away. "Not yet. Sometimes one memory can set off an avalanche. We should wait and see what happens before trying again."

"Why?" Tess demanded. "I'm not falling apart, or freaking out, or—"

"Yet," Nasedo cautioned. "You're not reacting yet. We'll wait."

"No!" Tess exclaimed, leaping off the bed when he stood up. "I want to see more!"

"Then see more. Try to remember more on your own. You remembered the number of moons all by yourself."

"But—"

"No," he said firmly. "Not until I see how you are a few days from now."

"A 'few days'?" Tess repeated in astonishment. "You show me something like that, and then you make me wait for a few days? At that rate, it'll be time to see the others—"

"You've already seen the others."

"I have not!" Tess declared. "You promised me I could see them."

"And here they are," Nasedo said, gesturing toward the photographs. "You said you wanted to 'see' the others....and now you've seen them."

"But....I......you must be joking!" Tess sputtered. "These are just pictures! You know that's not what I meant!"

"But it is what you said," Nasedo answered. "If you didn't say what you meant, let that be a lesson to you."

Tess felt a cold fury creeping through her. He'd tricked her! She had said she wanted to "see" the others, but he knew damned well that she'd meant she wanted to actually meet them. And now he was going to hold her to her exact words?

"Fine," she said flatly. "Then I'll consider you in default of our agreement, and that means I can follow you—"

"You'll do no such thing," Nasedo said sternly. "Not if you want me to show you any more memories, that is."

"So, what, I never get to meet them?"

"Not just a queen, but a drama queen," Nasedo sighed. "Of course you will. But at the time of my choosing. And in the meantime, you know what they look like, and if all goes well, you'll have some memories to take to them when the time comes."

"Don't you mean 'if' the time comes?" Tess said bitterly. "You're never going to take me to them, are you?"

"I'm done with this conversation," Nasedo said coldly. "The photos are yours. Keep them, burn them, whatever you like."

Tess stared at him in disbelief. Here she'd actually been having kind feelings toward Nasedo for the first time in a long time. That hadn't lasted long. "I hate you!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not here for you to love," he answered.

"Then congratulations, because you're doing a great job," she retorted. "Close the door on your way out. I don't even want to see you."

He did, and without further comment. Tess sat there numbly for a minute before rising from the bed and gathering all the pictures, furiously ripping off the ones taped to the wall, stacking them all in a pile which she hugged tightly to herself as she curled up on the bed.




*****************************************************




Mescalero Indian Reservation




"How much further?" Eddie panted, his hastily packed backpack thumping against his back.

"Not far," River Dog answered.

That's what you said half an hour ago, Eddie grumbled privately, struggling to keep track of his grandfather as they hiked through the pitch black woods at a pace which had left the grandson breathless and the grandfather not even breathing hard. He'd been cold when they'd started out, but River Dog's pace had quickly made him work up a sweat. And all this time he'd thought his grandfather didn't go out much because he was frail. Apparently not.

"Could we slow down?" Eddie called.

River Dog's silver head, the one thing barely visible in the dark forest and the only thing he'd been following for the past forty-five minutes, paused, turned. "Am I going too fast for you?" his amused voice asked.

"Very funny," Eddie muttered. "I just can't see," he called louder, "and I can't see what the hurry is. Are you late for a meeting?"

"Maybe," River Dog answered, resuming his trek. But he slowed his steps, and Eddie was able to catch his breath somewhat as he followed his grandfather deeper and deeper into the woods with no idea where they were going or why. River Dog was well known as an opinionated eccentric in their village, but he wasn't given to tromping into the forest at night, or getting all worked up over young white women and their jewelry. Still, whatever had set him off had also set off Jackie, who further felt it would set off her grandmother. This time it wasn't just River Dog.

"We're here," River Dog announced.

Where? Eddie thought as they emerged from the trees into a small clearing. Or what he thought was a clearing; given how dark it was, it could have been a baseball stadium. "Where's here?" he asked, panting.

There was a snap, followed by a tiny flame flaring in the darkness. A moment later, it grew, revealing his grandfather holding a torch near the mouth of a dark opening.

"Here," River Dog said, pointing to the opening.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait. Is that....is that a cave?"

"Yes."

"The cave? The one everyone says is haunted?"

"Yes."

Eddie came a few steps closer, peering at the opening. He'd heard of this place. Strange things were said to have happened here, although no one seemed to know exactly what....and it suddenly occurred to him that River Dog was old enough that he might know.

"Is it?" Eddie asked. "Is it really haunted?"

"Of course not," River Dog answered. "Fairy tales. But useful ones. They've kept everyone away."

"Why would you want to do that?" Eddie asked warily.

"Because of what's inside, what's hidden here. What I'm responsible for."

A cold wind whipped through the clearing, chilling the perspiration on Eddie's skin and making him shiver. The dark woods, the flickering torch, his grandfather's ghostly face, and the black maw of the cave all combined to make that fairy tale seem very, very real.

"So....what's in there?" Eddie asked, not at all certain he wanted to know. "What are you responsible for?"

"This task could last several lifetimes," River Dog answered. "I'm responsible not only for what's inside, but for passing on the responsibility to another. If I tell you....then you'll be responsible too."

"Responsible," Eddie repeated slowly. "For this dangerous something that brings death."

"Yes."

"But why? How did you wind up responsible?"

"I volunteered," River Dog answered. "He saved my life, and the life of my father, Quanah."

"Who saved his life?"

"If I answer that....you're responsible."

Eddie glanced at the cave opening. "You mean.....you mean whoever saved great-grandfather's life is in there?"

"Not anymore. But he used to be. He lived in this cave for years. That's why it's considered haunted."

Fascinated now, Eddie crept closer, wracking his brain for the details of the stories he'd heard over the years, tales that teenagers delighted in using to scare their younger siblings, most involving monsters and death and strange things in....the sky, he remembered, his eyes widening. Some of the strange things that happened here were said to have appeared in the sky....and his grandfather had said that the symbol on the girl's necklace had appeared in the sky.

"I want to see," Eddie said.

"You must agree to tell no one what I show you here tonight, and to shoulder this burden after my death," River Dog said.

"Agreed," Eddie said. "Now, show me."




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 20 next Sunday.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY



November 13, 1999, 11:30 a.m.

Crashdown Café




"Okay, I've got two Alien Invasions, one Pluto Platter, and one Saturn Sundae," Liz Parker said, setting each plate down in front of its recipient. "Anything else? Oh....I'm sorry," she amended as the Pluto Platter and Saturn Sundae were exchanged. "Got that backwards."

"No harm done, dear," said the elderly lady who was eyeing her Saturn Sundae with alarm. "And I doubt there'll be anything else. This is quite....large."

"Well, Saturn is the second largest planet," Liz remarked. "Same for the sundae. Only the Jupiter is bigger."

"I'll keep that in mind," the lady said.

Another mistake, Liz thought heavily. She was running so fast that mistakes were inevitable, but fortunately, all she'd done so far was mix up orders within the same table, which was easy to fix. So far.

"Lizzie?"

Liz blinked. "Oh....Dad! I thought you weren't here this morning."

"I wasn't going to be," her father said, eyeing the late breakfast/early lunch crowd. "But Saturdays can be hairy, so I stopped down to make sure everything was all right. Where's Agnes?"

"She's....on break."

"Oh, no she's not," Jeff said firmly. "Jesus, Agnes is always on break! Sorry," he added sheepishly. "I shouldn't swear."

"Dad....chill," Liz advised. "I hear worse than that in the first ten minutes of school every day."

Jeff winced. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn't."

"Well, it should, because you'll notice that, despite my level of exposure, I'm not swearing like a truck driver."

"Spoken like a true scientist," Jeff said dryly. "But the fact remains that Agnes—"

"Should be in here," Liz finished. "Right. I've got it. You go do...whatever it was you were doing this morning. I'll handle it."

"And what makes you think she'll listen to you when she never listens to me?"

"And what makes you think that doing the same thing over and over will get you better results? Let's try something different and see if we get different results."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Is this one of those 'controlled environment' thingies?"

"Sort of," Liz nodded. "Although I doubt they're called 'thingies'. Go on, Dad. I've got this."

"Well....all right," Jeff said reluctantly. "But she better be waiting tables when I get back, or—"

"She will be. Go on."

Liz breathed a silent sigh of relief as her father left. The truth was she was taking advantage of Agnes's well deserved reputation for being allergic to work because she needed the work herself. She needed to be going every single minute, every single second of every single minute in order to take her mind off what was burning a hole in her apron pocket and what it could mean....and how much it would break her heart if it meant what it seemed to.

Which is what, exactly? she wondered for the umpteenth time as she took yet another table's order. She still had no idea what she was afraid of, which made her feel rather silly. Quite a comedown from yesterday when she'd been all Wonder Woman, telling Max she was going to the reservation come hell or high water, with or without the pendant. It had been one of the biggest rushes of her life when he'd given it to her, trusted her with his one link to his past. She'd gone straight home and hit Map Quest for directions, arranged to borrow Maria's car, and fortunately bumped into the cook on the way out, who'd warned her that her carefully printed out directions would only deposit her on the northern edge of the large reservation. A few greasy scribbles later she'd been on her way, heady with the excitement of being able to do something, to give back, to repay Max in some way for what he'd done for her even though she'd had no idea what she was going to do when she got there. Look for an authority figure? Go from house to house? Wave the pendant around and yell? All of the above? Maybe, and it really didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was going, with the evidence that Max trusted her implicitly safely in her pocket. How fast that warm glow had evaporated when that old man had grabbed her arm....and what he'd said had chilled her to the bone.

Were you followed?

This is dangerous.

It brings death.

"I said, can I have that with no tomato?"

Liz snapped back to the present. "Oh....sure," she said, scribbling on her pad as the man whose order she was taking looked at her doubtfully. "No tomato. Got it."

"Doesn't matter," the man sighed. "It always comes with tomato."

"Not this time," Liz assured him.

"I bet it will."

"Then you'll lose," she said firmly, tucking her pencil in her pocket. "No tomato. Got it."

The man mumbled something to his companion, but she wasn't listening. The pencil she'd just shoved in her pocket had clinked softly against what was already in there, pulling her back to last night. She'd practically jumped in the car when that guy had shown up and pulled the old man away, tossing the pendant in the beverage holder and taking off like she was being chased. And was she? What had the old man meant by "were you followed"? Who would be following her? The same people who had followed them out to Atherton's weird house? The same people who had broken into Max's house? Even worse, what on earth was she supposed to do with something that was "dangerous" and "brought death"? She had been so scared, she'd been nearly paralyzed, afraid to even look at the pendant for fear it would sprout tentacles and strangle her. Why was it dangerous? Did it have something to do with the fact that it was broken? Was it radioactive? Was it poisonous? Was it safe to touch? Should she wash her hands? Disinfect them?

She'd been most of the way home before reason had begun to intrude. No, of course the pendant itself wasn't dangerous; even the old man had touched it, insisted on touching it. It was the symbol on the pendant which was dangerous, that brought death....the symbol that Max and Michael and Isabel recognized. But why was it dangerous? Did that mean Max was dangerous? Did that mean Max brought death? No, of course not, she'd chided herself. Max didn't bring death; the fact that she was here now was evidence of that. But even if Max himself wasn't dangerous, that didn't mean there wasn't danger. Max and the others still didn't know where they were from or why they were here. Was someone chasing them, maybe someone bad? Was that the same someone who'd been chasing them at Atherton's? Was that someone human or alien....or both? Maybe they had multiple species chasing them? Were multiple species now chasing her because she had this dangerous, death-bringing symbol like a lead weight in her pocket?

The bell on the diner's door dingled again, and Liz glanced over her shoulder as she clipped No Tomato's order to the carousel. Great, she thought heavily. The only thing more worrisome than the lead weight in her pocket was the question of what she was going to tell Max when she saw him....and he'd just walked in, with Michael in tow. Should she tell him what she'd heard? They'd all been so excited when they'd recognized that symbol; how could she tell them it could be dangerous? Because it wasn't a big leap from the symbol being dangerous to them being dangerous, and she just didn't believe that. No way.

"Hi," Max said awkwardly when he reached the counter.

"Hi," she answered, every bit as awkwardly.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Michael announced. "Come with, Maxwell."

Okay, maybe he's dangerous, Liz conceded as Michael dragged Max away after giving her one of his trademark steely glares. And yet Michael had returned her journal. He'd even apologized. He'd even kinda sorta maybe said some nice things about her. No, Michael wasn't dangerous either. Curt and tactless, maybe, but that didn't make him dangerous. Which certainly made her feel better, but didn't solve the problem of what to tell them about last night. Maybe she shouldn't tell them anything. She hadn't told Max when she was going to the reservation, so maybe she could put it off one more night. That would give her a chance to think about it and to talk to Maria, whose shift would start soon. She slipped her hand into her pocket, closing it on the pendant. Yes, that's what she'd do. She'd let on that she hadn't gone yet, and put it off until tomorrow.

"Order's up!" the cook called.

"Thanks," Liz said, feeling much better already. "Wait....this was no tomato, Bernie."

"Where'd it say that?" Bernie asked suspiciously, peering at the order ticket.

"Right there. All caps and underlined. See? NO TOMATO. "

"Okay, okay, don't bite my head off," Bernie grumbled, pulling the plate back.

"Make sure you scrape all the seeds off!" Liz admonished as Bernie muttered something unintelligible and began to disassemble the sandwich. It would take a couple of minutes for Bernie to scrape off the offending vegetable, so she grabbed a coffee pot. Might as well make another round while she was waiting. And that was when she turned around to find a young Native American man who looked vaguely familiar peering at her over a menu.

"Can I help you?" she asked uncertainly.

He lowered the menu. "I think I'll try the redskin basket."




*****************************************************




Pure kitsch, Eddie thought as the diner's door banged closed behind him, taking in the alien murals, the bobbing deely-boppers, the little drinking straws festooned with tiny flying saucers. As if the sign outside wasn't bad enough, the inside was even worse. If he'd seen this yesterday, he would have been grateful it wasn't an Indian themed diner complete with feathered headdresses and war paint; at least aliens weren't real, so they wouldn't care if they were spoofed. Now he knew better.

That's her, Eddie thought, spotting a familiar face behind the counter. He'd meant to ask some questions about the identity of their mysterious visitor last night, figuring this would be a good place to start, but it looked like he'd hit paydirt right away. She had her hair up, and her back was mostly to him, but he was pretty sure it was the girl from last night. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingering the token his grandfather had given him as he slid onto a stool at the counter and grabbed a menu, waiting for the girl to turn around and wondering if she had any idea what she'd just stepped in. God knows he hadn't.

When River Dog had asked him if he'd agree to keep the secret and take up whatever burden he'd been carrying, he'd readily agreed. The dark forest, his grandfather's odd behavior, Jackie's admonition to talk to a man she'd always claimed was off his rocker, and her fear of him talking to her own grandmother had all served to feed a growing sense of curiosity, wonder, and dread that had him chomping at the bit to learn more. He'd stepped forward eagerly, expecting River Dog to lead him into the cave....but he hadn't. Instead, he'd sat him down outside and told him the most fantastic tale of a stranger who had come to live on the reservation decades ago, a stranger with strange powers and even stranger enemies. It was a story peppered with rescues, the old myths of skinwalkers, strange signs in the sky, strange illnesses, and all manner of weirdness. By the time he was finished, Eddie had been convinced that Jackie's initial contention was correct: River Dog had indeed lost it. And the fact that he felt this way had not been lost on River Dog.

"You don't believe me," River Dog had said in a voice devoid of anger or reproof.

"Well....you've gotta admit, it's a wild story," Eddie allowed. "I think I've heard wild stories from every single old man and woman on the reservation."

"You noticed that the girl's pendant was broken."

"Yeah. So?"

River Dog held out a closed fist, opened it. Lying in his palm was a vaguely half moon-shaped piece of metal, silver and black, with silver squiggles. "What's this?" Eddie asked.

"The missing piece of the girl's necklace."

Eddie's eyebrows rose. "You have it? Why would you have it?"

"That necklace belonged to the stranger," River Dog said.

"And he gave it to you?"

"No. He gave it to another...and it broke. I was there when it broke, and I've had this broken piece ever since."

"When was this?"

"November, 1959."

1959...before my time, Eddie thought. And while it was interesting that River Dog had the broken piece to the necklace, all that meant was there was a broken necklace his grandfather knew something about.

River Dog had risen then, pocketing the fragment and taking up the torch. "Do you still promise to keep this secret and take my place as its guardian when I'm gone?"

"I don't see as there's much of a 'secret' to keep," Eddie said, "so, sure. I'll keep it."

"And guard it?" River Dog pressed. "This involves more than keeping things to yourself. This involves judgment."

"Right," Eddie said slowly. "Got it."

His grandfather had looked him up and down then as though not quite sure whether to believe him, and frankly, he had a point. Eddie hadn't seen a shred of proof that any of this was real, broken necklaces notwithstanding. But River Dog was heading for the cave, so this was getting more interesting, and Eddie followed him, curious to go inside a local landmark most shied away from. He noticed that his grandfather walked with great certainty, anticipating the caves' many twists and low hanging places; clearly he'd been here before. But they encountered nothing unusual until they were deep inside, when River Dog rounded a bend and stopped, pointing. Wow, Eddie thought, staring at the strange symbols on the cave wall. He'd taken the torch from his grandfather and walked closer, examining them.

"Okay, this is....weird," he'd admitted. "I don't recognize any of these....wait. Isn't that the symbol on the pendant?"

"Yes."

He'd felt a niggle of fear then as he'd gazed at the first tangible connection between the pendant and everyone's odd behavior. "Where did these come from?" he'd asked. "And what do they mean?"

"The stranger made them. And I have no idea. But they were meant for the others."

"What others?" Eddie had demanded, alarmed now.

River Dog had taken the torch from his hand and studied his face carefully. "I've told you enough for one night. The rest will come in time. Now I need you to do something for me. I need you to find that girl and bring her back here so I can see if she passes the test."

" 'Test'?" Eddie had echoed. "What 'test'? And what do you mean, you've told me enough? You're just going to leave me hanging here with a wild story, a broken necklace, and a cave painting?"

"And these," River Dog said reaching into his pocket. "Hold out your hand."

Eddie felt his face grow hot with embarrassment even now, sitting on a stool in a crowded diner, as he recalled how frightened he'd been, how reluctant to hold out his hand. He was starting to believe his grandfather, and part of him didn't want to, didn't want to know who or what had made these strange markings and who or what would be coming after him. But he didn't want to appear weak and foolish next to an old man who suddenly appeared strong and wise, so he'd held out a hand, into which his grandfather placed....a rock. A small, jagged rock. Eddie had stared at it in disbelief for a moment, wondering if he'd finally gone as loony as his grandfather, when the rock abruptly grew warm to the touch....and began to glow.

"What the....!" he'd gasped, dropping it, causing the light to promptly go out.

"They work for you as well," River Dog had said with satisfaction, retrieving the dropped stone, which began to glow again immediately.

"What the hell is that?" Eddie demanded.

"They belonged to the stranger," River Dog explained. "These are the magic stones he gave me when he was injured. They contain energy from where he comes from."

"Where he comes from.....where did he come from? You said you didn't know where he came from."

"I don't. But I do know he did not come from this world."

Eddie had blinked. "Are you....are you telling me he was an....an alien?"

River Dog had glanced down at the glowing stone in his hand. "I need you to find the girl and bring her here. Tell her to come at night, and come alone. She drove off in the direction of Roswell; you'll probably find her there. Will you do this for me?"

And here I am, Eddie thought, his fingers drumming on the counter as he waited for the girl to turn around. And what exactly was he doing here? Satisfying my curiosity, he admitted. The wild story hadn't done it, but the combination of the cave painting and the odd glowing stone had tipped the scale. His grandfather had shut down the flow of information, and he wanted to hear more. The only way he was going to hear more was to play along with this, so here he was, girl hunting. Growing restless, he grabbed a menu and scanned it. Good grief, what ridiculous names.....




*****************************************************




Liz stood rooted to the spot, the sounds of the diner fading around her as Eddie walked away, taking the broken pendant fragment with him. Oh, my God.... What had just happened? The pendant was still in her hand, feeling hot to the touch, although that must be her imagination. This "River Dog" had not only seen this symbol, he owned the broken piece of it. What did that mean? What would happen tonight if she met him? That peddler lady had told her to stay away from him, but how could she do that now?

A clack brought her back to the present. "There," Bernie grumbled irritably, plopping down the plate with the de-tomatoed sandwich. "No tomato for the princess in the pea."

"Prince," Liz said absentmindedly.

"Whatever. Go take it to his Highness before it gets cold. The last thing I want to do is heat it up again."

Numbly, Liz loaded up her arms with plates and headed off, still in shock. "Here you go, everyone," she said, barely aware of what she was doing. "Anything else I can get you?"

"Hey, there's no tomato!" the tomato-hating customer exclaimed, pulling his sandwich apart. "No seeds, even. That's a first. Thanks, sweetheart. How'd you pull that off? Threaten the cook?"

A door opened behind her, and a moment later, Max and Michael walked by. "What? Oh....you're welcome. I have to go," Liz added. "Agnes will be taking over your table if you need anything else."

"Hope she's half as good as you!" the man called as she hurried off, catching Max and Michael before their butts hit the booth.

"I need to talk to you now,"she said urgently. "Not here. In the back."

"Okay," Max said.

"Why?" Michael asked.

But Liz ignored him, taking off through the kitchen and out the back door where Agnes had just lit a fresh cigarette.

"Agnes, I need you back inside right away," Liz said.

"I just lit up," Agnes protested.

"I'm sorry about that, but it can't be helped. I've covered for you for the last forty-five minutes at least, so this shouldn't be a problem."

"If you've covered for forty-five minutes, you can certainly cover for another five," Agnes announced.

Liz held up a thumb and forefinger. "My dad is this close to firing you," she informed her severely, "so if I were you, I wouldn't do anything that would push him over that edge. Stay out here, and I'll make sure he goes over it, and fast."

"Okay, okay," Agnes said, dropping the cigarette on the ground and grinding it out with her shoe. "Don't be so lippy."

"Don't be so lazy," Liz retorted.

"What's gotten into you?" Agnes muttered.

Terror does that to you, Liz thought, following Agnes back inside where Max and Michael were waiting for her, the former curiously, the latter impatiently. She was all ready to launch into an explanation and suddenly realized she had no idea where to start. Max gazed at her with concern and Michael cocked an eyebrow as her mouth opened and closed once, twice.

"Is everything all right, Liz?" Max asked gently.

Michael rolled his eyes, but Liz felt a good deal of the tension drain out of her. Max looked genuinely worried, which reminded her of why she was doing this, why she'd trekked to the reservation last night, why she'd dithered about if or how to tell him what had happened. It was for him, for Max. It was all for him, because he'd literally thrown himself under the bus for her. If it weren't for her, Max would still be safely anonymous. Now he was hunted by mad old Indians and God knew what else, and all because he'd gone out on a limb for her.

"I went to the reservation last night," she said.

"And?" Max said hopefully.

"What?" Michael exclaimed.

"And....I found something," Liz said.

"Wait....you went to the reservation?" Michael echoed. "What were you doing there?"

"Michael...." Max began.

"No, Max, I want to know," Michael interrupted. "What happened to 'no suspicious moves'? What happened to 'no one's going anywhere right now'?"

"You're the ones being watched," Liz said. "No one's watching me. I could fly under the radar."

"You don't know that," Michael said hotly. "And if anyone was going, it should have been us. It should have been me."

"No, it shouldn't," Max said firmly. "Someone followed us to Marathon, Michael. Someone broke into my house, and someone was following you yesterday. I stand by what I said—we can't afford to make any suspicious moves. But Liz offered to go in our place, and—"

"And of course you said 'yes'."

"Actually, he said 'no'," Liz answered. "But I told him I was going one way or another. I just wanted the pendant, and if he wouldn't give it to me, I told him I'd draw the symbol instead."

"I can't believe this," Michael muttered.

"I was just trying to help," Liz said.

"Well, you know what? Don't!" Michael retorted. "Don't try to help."

"Michael!" Max warned.

Liz fastened her eyes on Michael. "Do you want to know what I found, or not?"

The swinging door to the diner opened, and Agnes walked by, throwing Liz a dark look. Great. The list of people who were pissed at her continued to grow. No one said anything until Agnes went back outside with a pack of napkins under her arm.

"I want to know what you found," Max said. "And so does he," he added with a pointed look at Michael, "even if he won't say so."

Michael said nothing, and Liz took that as a hopeful sign. "I went to the reservation, and there was this old guy there, this old Indian, who had seen this before," she said, pulling the pendant out of her pocket. "He asked me all kinds of questions, like where I got it, and how many people knew about it."

"What'd you tell him?" Michael demanded.

"That I found it. That only I knew. And he wanted to know how I knew to come there, and if I'd been followed—"

"He asked you if you were followed?" Max interrupted.

Liz nodded. "He was really paranoid about it, pulling me away and looking around like he expected someone to jump out at him. And then I asked him if he knew what this meant, and he said....."

"What?" Michael pressed. "He said what?"

Liz bit her lip. "He said....it was dangerous. He said it 'brought death'."

Michael and Max exchanged glances, and the look on Max's face almost caused her physical pain. "But that doesn't mean you're dangerous," she said quickly. "It doesn't."

"You don't know that," Michael said. "We don't know that."

"I know that," Liz said. "Whatever this is, it doesn't define you."

"If that's what it means, I hope not," Max said quietly.

"There's more," Liz said, coming closer. "A guy pulled the old man away last night, a young guy....and that guy just showed up here. He's gone now," she added quickly when Michael started to bolt. "But he said his name was Eddie, and that 'River Dog' would meet me at 10 o'clock tonight at the reservation. He said I should come alone."

"No way," Max said firmly. "It's too dangerous."

"Never mind that," Michael said. "This isn't about her, it's about us."

"It's too dangerous for us to go too, Michael," Max said. "We don't even know if this 'River Dog' is telling the truth."

"I think he is, Max," Liz said, holding out the pendant. "See where it's broken? Eddie had the missing piece with him. River Dog's not only seen this symbol before, he's seen the pendant, actually touched it. How else could he have the broken piece?"

"Christ," Michael whispered. "Maxwell, we have to go. We have to."

"But we can't!" Max exclaimed in frustration, locking both hands behind his head and pacing back and forth. "We're being followed, and you can bet whoever's following us will notice when we go traipsing off to the Indian reservation."

"Well, we can't just sit here!" Michael protested.

"I'll go," Liz said. "I went last night; I'll go again. He said to come alone—"

"There is no way I'm letting you walk into this alone," Max said firmly.

"Damned straight," Michael agreed. "I'm going."

"No, you're not," Max said.

"I'm going," Liz insisted. "River Dog's expecting me. If I don't show, he might not talk to anyone."

"Fine, so we all go," Michael said.

Liz shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea. He said to come alone, so I doubt he'll like it if a crowd shows up."

"We can't all go anyway," Max said. "In order for any of us to go, we'll have to throw whoever's following us off our trail. That means some of us go, and the others act as decoys."

"I'm not anyone's decoy," Michael declared.

"Liz is the one who took the risk of going out there, and she's the one who's going back," Max said. "I think she should choose who goes with her."

"Wonderful," Michael muttered when Liz's eyes fastened on Max. "I'm not even gonna ask."

"Who's going is only one question," Max said. "How do we get out there? We can't take the jeep; that would be recognized. How did you get out there, Liz?"

The door behind them opened abruptly, and Maria sailed in, her uniform over one arm. "Sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed. "I was waiting for Mom to get home from the market. God, I swear that woman can spend more time in a grocery store than I can spend in the jewelry department. One of these days I'm gonna have to fish her out of the freezer case...."

She stopped beside her open locker, staring at the three of them staring at her. "What? What's wrong?"

"Maria," Liz said slowly, "I have a favor to ask. Actually.....another favor."

Maria sighed heavily and leaned on her locker door. "Let me guess. This has something to do with my car."




*****************************************************




9:30 p.m.

Roswell




The phone rang. Cursing, Brivari groped for it in his pocket, one hand on the wheel.

"Hello?"

"It's me," Dee's voice said, sounding worried. "Where are you?"

"Following the Special Unit, who's following the hybrids. Why?"

"Because there's something weird going on. Max and Isabel were all wound up at dinner tonight."

"Of course they're 'wound up'," Brivari said. "They broke into Atherton's house, walked off with some of his papers, had them stolen, and judging from the number of times they're turning around, they've figured out someone's following them."

"No, it's more than that," Dee insisted. "Please keep a close eye on them."

"What exactly do you think I'm doing?" Brivari asked irritably. "Picking my nose? There are three hybrids and three Unit agents I have to 'keep an eye on', and they frequently go in six different directions. I'm just lucky that a number of them are conveniently converging in one place at the same time."

"All of them? All three agents are tailing them?"

"Topolsky is tailing them, and the other two are watching Zan and Vilandra's house and Rath's trailer."

There was a pause. "You mean they're watching this house?" Dee said incredulously. "I'm looking up and down the block, but I don't see anyone."

"You're not supposed to. And here I was hoping Topolsky would give up and go home," Brivari muttered. "Damned hybrids."

"Don't go blaming them," Dee admonished. "They're bound to be curious about where they came from."

"Is it too much to ask that they 'be curious' in a less dangerous manner?"

"Look, I wasn't trying to start an argument. I just wanted to let you know that—"

"Wait," Brivari said suddenly. "They're stopping."

"Where?"

"A movie theater," Brivari reported. "Zan is getting out....and there's the Parker girl."

"So he's on a date," Dee said.

Is he? Brivari wondered, watching Zan and Liz Parker exchange a decidedly un-date-like few words before heading into the theater.....and then the jeep roared off, followed by Topolsky.

"I have to go," Brivari said suddenly. "Something's not right. I'll call you back."

Brivari clacked the phone shut while Dee was still talking and pulled over, sprinting into the movie theater behind his Ward. He scanned the people buying tickets and saw no one, checked the restrooms, then the theaters. Where were they? If they were on a date, they should be easy to find. And why had Rath driven away so quickly? It was almost like he'd wanted Topolsky to follow him.....

Oh, shit, Brivari thought, what Zan was up to finally dawning on him. Whisking through the weekend crowds, he blasted through the back door of the theater just in time to see Zan and the Parker girl driving away in a different car. In the middle of the alley stood the Parker girl's friend, the one who had defended her so hotly at the diner. She looked up in alarm when he came out.

"Sorry," Brivari mumbled. "Wrong door."

"What happened?" Dee demanded when he dialed her back.

"The good news is they just gave the Special Unit the slip," Brivari reported sullenly.

"And the bad news?"

"They also gave me the slip!"




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My son is home (from New Zealand!) for the holidays, so I'll be posting Chapter 21 on Sunday, January 9. Here's wishing you all wonderful holdays!

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE



November 13, 1999, 8:10 p.m.

Galaxy Movie Theater, Roswell



"Gave you the slip?" Dee's voice came over the cell phone, small and faint in the din of the theater. "How on earth did they manage that?"

"The movie was a ruse," Brivari said in disgust. "Rath and Vilandra took off with Topolsky on their heels while Zan and the Parker girl walked straight through the theater and out the back door. They disappeared in that friend's car."

"Which friend?"

"The Parker girl's friend. The waitress from the diner."

"Which waitress?"

"How do I know? The blonde one."

"Maria DeLuca?"

"Whoever!" Brivari said in exasperation. "Does it matter?"

"It matters because she was with them in Marathon. Red car? Little alien head on the antenna? Ring any bells?"

"You're missing the point," Brivari said impatiently. "I don't know where they went, or even what the purpose of this little exercise was."

"Maybe they wanted a really, really private date," Dee suggested, her tone suspiciously close to a chuckle. "Wouldn't be the first time a couple of kids ducked out on adults to be alone."

"It also wouldn't be the first time Zan threw off his security to run off and do something he shouldn't."

"You mean run off with a girl?"

"That too," Brivari muttered.

"Well, whatever he's doing, I honestly don't think he'd do anything stupid right after the house was robbed."

"Oh, don't you?" Brivari retorted. "They just deliberately led on an FBI agent so one of them could slip away. You don't call that 'stupid'?"

"We don't know what's going on, so let's reserve judgment," Dee suggested. "I'll hang around here as long as I can and keep an eye out for them, although if he's trying to be alone with Liz, I kind of doubt his own house is the first place he'd head for. Maybe hers....." She stopped. "Brivari," she said slowly. "Is it possible.....I mean, do we know.....could he get Liz....pregnant?"

"How the hell should I know?" Brivari demanded, drawing stares from theater patrons. "And how did we get from missing Wards to procreation?"

"You mean missing teenagers to procreation," Dee corrected dryly. "And that's a straight line if ever I saw one."

"Frankly that would be better than what I think he's up to."

"Why? What do you think he's up to? You don't...." She paused again. "You don't think they're going back to Marathon, do you?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Brivari said darkly. "And if he does, I swear to God with my eyes wide open, I'll kill him myself. Or wish I could. I have to go. Call me if you hear anything."

Brivari snapped his phone shut and stalked outside into the autumn night. The sidewalk was still teeming with moviegoers, the street crowded with traffic. If you wanted to give someone the slip, this was a perfect place to do it, and he allowed himself a moment of grudging admiration. But only a moment. The rest would have to wait until he found out what the hell his Ward was up to. He truly had no idea if their hybrids were capable of reproducing with a human, and whatever the answer, he'd be relieved if this was only about a tumble with Liz Parker. But he doubted that; the look he'd seen on Zan's face outside the theater was a look he'd seen far too many times before and boded no good. Something else was going on here, and given what the hybrids had been up to recently, it was entirely possible that that "something else" was dangerous. The one factor which argued against that was the fact that Rath had aided his king's escape. If something truly dangerous were going on, he would have wanted to be in the thick of it, not acting as a decoy.

Ten minutes later, he fell in behind Kathleen Topolsky's car. Topolsky had been easy to find, and it was clear from her haphazard search pattern that she was groping in the dark just as he was. Good luck, he thought darkly. If Rath had truly been intending to throw her off, he'd have hidden both the jeep and himself very well, and it looked like he'd managed both: The jeep was nowhere to be found, nor were the hybrids and the DeLuca girl. It looked like he was going to have to make another trip to Marathon, the one bright spot being that the possibility of their returning to the scene of the crime hadn't yet occurred to Topolsky, who had just pulled over up ahead.....

Another car whisked by Brivari's, coming to a halt beside Topolsky's. A moment later Brivari broke into a smile as Sheriff Valenti climbed out and approached Topolsky's car wearing the look of a cat who's caught the canary.

"....blow through three red lights, two stops signs, and do seventy in a thirty mile-an-hour zone," Brivari heard Valenti say after she rolled down her window. "Ms. Topolsky, you are a walking, talking, moving violation."

Excellent, Brivari thought. He'd have to double check the locations of the other two agents, but it looked like he'd be chasing the hybrids all by himself for the rest of the evening.




*****************************************************



Mescalero Indian Reservation




"Here are the other torches," Eddie said, rounding a bend in the cave with his arms full. "Where do you want them?"

"Right here," River Dog answered, gesturing. "In a circle. Don't light them."

"Don't light them?" Eddie repeated, sinking the first torch into the cave floor. "Why not?"

"That's the whole point," River Dog said.

Eddie opened his mouth to ask another question, then thought better of it. The girl was due here in about an hour, assuming she was coming at all, that is, and despite his having played messenger boy earlier today, his grandfather had not been any more forthcoming about the mysterious stranger from the past or the promise he'd made to that stranger. Eddie had assumed it just involved showing the girl the cave painting, but apparently there was more to it. His grandfather had spent the entire day in this cave in quiet contemplation, merely nodding when he'd heard his message had been delivered and giving Eddie a verbal list of what he'd need for the night's festivities: Torches. That was it. No blankets, no firewood, no extra food or drink, just torches and the means to light them. He'd hung around after that, hoping his grandfather would tell him more, but River Dog had merely sunk back into contemplation, and he'd been contemplating still when Eddie had arrived just a few minutes ago with the torches. To say that he was chomping at the bit for more information would be an understatement.

"So what's the plan?" Eddie asked, pushing the second torch into the ground.

"The 'plan'?"

"Yeah. What exactly are we doing tonight?"

" 'We' are doing nothing. You will bring the girl here, not inside, but just near the entrance.

"And then?"

"And then you will leave."

"Leave?" Eddie echoed. "Why would I leave?"

"Because you have no part in what comes next."

"Since when?" Eddie demanded. "What was all that last night about 'shouldering the burden'?"

"You will shoulder the burden after my death. Unless I'm mistaken, I'm not dead yet."

His grandfather's tone was as dry as a forest full of autumn leaves, and Eddie winced involuntarily. "I know that. But I thought you needed me for whatever you're doing tonight. I thought I had some role to play in this."

"I do, and you have. You delivered my message to the girl, and you will deliver her here."

"Assuming she comes."

"She will."

"You're sure of that?"

"As sure as I am that I'm sitting here now."

"Why?"

River Dog shifted slightly from his cross-legged position on the cave floor. "Because she wants to know. Just like you do."

Eddie felt his face growing warm. He was sounding like an over-eager beaver, and this despite the fact that he still wasn't certain this wasn't all just a big load of baloney. The cave painting was still there and still weird, but that glowing rock....was it possible he'd just imagined that? Was it possible this was all just some garbled memory from an old man's past, a story told so well that he'd fallen for it?

"Okay," Eddie said, reaching for another torch, "so she gets here, and I bring her to the cave. Then what? What are you going to do?"

"I will test her."

"Test her how?"

"In the manner set forth by the stranger."

"Which is....."

"None of your concern."

Eddie slammed the fourth torch into the cave floor with a thud. God, but this was getting annoying. "Okay, then, why are you going to test her? She had the necklace. Isn't that enough?"

"It is not enough. Another once had that necklace, and he was not one of them. The girl may not be either."

"Then how would she have the necklace? Maybe she was telling you the truth. Maybe she just found it."

"Then how did she know to come here, of all places? And why would she be asking what it meant unless she knew it meant something in the first place?" River Dog shook his head. "The stranger had enemies, and the girl could be one of them. That is why she must be tested. I will not tell her anything unless she passes the test."

A prickle of unease crept up Eddie's spine. The whole test idea was creepy, but the word "enemy" was even creepier. River Dog had mentioned the stranger having enemies, but that had been past tense; it hadn't occurred to him that a stranger from forty years ago would have enemies in the present. "If she is an enemy, and you won't talk to her," he said, "do you think she'd hurt you?"

"If she knew I was here. She will not know I'm here unless she passes the test."

How are you going to pull that off? Eddie wondered, knowing better than to ask that question out loud. "Whether she knows or not, I don't feel right leaving you alone, grandfather," he said, taking a different tack. "I'm responsible for you while Mom and Dad are away, and they'll have my head if anything happens to you. Especially if they find out I left you alone in a haunted cave in a forest at night with a stranger who might be an enemy. I'm thinking that won't go over well."

River Dog snorted softly. "I am no child, to be babysat by a child."

"Then you're in luck, because I'm not a child either," Eddie said dryly. "And child or no child, it just doesn't seem very smart to leave you alone with what could be a dangerous stranger. Although, for what it's worth, I don't think she's an enemy."

His grandfather turned and looked at him then, a penetrating stare that made Eddie's skin prickle. "Nor do I," River Dog said. "I also don't believe she found the necklace alone. She said 'we' found it. I think someone else knows....and that someone may be an enemy."

"So how do you decide, then?"

"She has to pass the test," River Dog said stubbornly. "If she doesn't pass, she is told nothing."

And now we've come full circle, Eddie thought wearily. "It's time for me to go back," he said, checking his watch. "I'll leave a flashlight with you."

"Remember, you will leave her outside the cave," River Dog said sternly. "Under no circumstances will you come inside with her. You will leave her, and then you will withdraw. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." No, Eddie added silently as he padded out of the cave. I don't understand a damned thing. He was now seriously beginning to question his grandfather's sanity, and he wrestled with what to do with his suspicions all the way back to the village, ground that was becoming familiar now that he'd walked it several times. The girl had certainly appeared harmless enough, but the notion that she might be in league with others less harmless had not occurred to him. If she showed, should he send her home? Or better yet, have no one meet her? It would be easy enough to pull the plug on this entire endeavor by simply telling his grandfather that she hadn't shown up. That might buy him enough time for his folks to come back. He was leaning in that direction when he arrived at the road near where the girl had shown up last night, and he headed for Jackie's cart to seek her advice. Concealing the vast majority of the details would be tricky, but he needed to bounce this off someone. Last night, having a secret had been exciting. Tonight it had become a burden.

"Jackie?" he called, his eyes brushing the jewelry display, the bags hanging on hooks, the dolls displayed on a shelf. "You here?"

A hand grabbed his arm, and he jumped. It was an old hand, weathered, wrinkled, and surprisingly strong.

"Is he back?" Jackie's grandmother whispered.

Eddie was so startled, he was momentarily speechless. "I....you.....where's Jackie?" he stammered, looking around nervously. He'd promised to leave her grandmother out of this, and he had good reason to believe Jackie would hold him to that.

"Is he back?" the grandmother demanded again.

"Is who back?" Eddie asked.

Jackie's grandmother knelt down, her finger tracing something in the dirt. Eddie knew what it would be even before she'd finished. "Is he back?" she repeated. "Is Nasedo back?"

"Who?" Eddie said, his eyes still on the swirling symbol at his feet. "I don't know who that is."

"Listen to me," the grandmother said intently, pointing to the symbol in the dust. "That is dangerous. He is dangerous. Stay away from him."

"Stay away from who?" Eddie demanded. "My grandfather? Are you talking about River Dog?"

"River Dog," Jackie's grandmother spat, her voice thick with disgust. "He thinks he befriended Nasedo. So did Quanah. Can you befriend a fire? Try to, and it will burn you. Fire always does."

"Grandmother?" a voice called in the distance. "Are you still there?"

Eddie's head swung around; Jackie was returning, the dust billowing about her feet as she walked. "Nice to see you again," he said in a rush, rubbing out the symbol in the dirt with his foot. "Gotta run. Say 'hi' to Jackie for me."

Eddie took off, putting as much distance as possible between himself and what appeared to be an attack of the crazy elders. Honestly, what was going on here? First his grandfather going on about strangers and maps, and now Jackie's grandmother going on about danger and someone called "Nasedo", a name Eddie had never heard before....and Quanah. My great-grandfather, he thought. Hadn't River Dog said that the stranger had rescued his great-grandfather? Didn't that make him a good guy? It was all so hazy now, with so many details, few of which made sense, and his head was still spinning when the headlights of a car appeared on the road, coming closer and closer until the car came to a halt. Eddie watched from a distance as the girl named Liz climbed out of the driver's seat.....and a boy climbed out the other side.

"Where do we go?" the boy asked.

"He just said to come back tonight," Liz answered. "That's all he said."

Eddie hesitated, grappling with a whole new variable. He'd told the girl to come alone....and she hadn't. His grandfather was concerned the girl was working with enemies.....and now she'd shown up with someone else. What should he do? Should he bring them to the cave, or just pretend he hadn't seen them? He glanced back at the cart, where he could just see two figures standing side by side. Jackie's grandmother had said the symbol was dangerous. His grandfather had said the same, and yet he was at the cave at this very moment, ready to fulfill a promise he'd made decades ago to a man who had saved his father's life. "Can you befriend a fire? Try to, and it will burn you. Fire always does."

Not always, Eddie thought. True, fire could burn you if you weren't careful. But treat it with caution, and fire could bring you life. Could even save your life.

"Who's this guy?" Eddie called.

"Oh," Liz said, whirling around, "uh, he's my friend."

"I invited you," Eddie said firmly. "Just you."

"Yeah, I know, but this is really important to both of us," Liz replied.

Not good enough, Eddie thought. "Sorry," he said, walking away.

"Wait! You can't just leave!" Liz exclaimed.

Eddie stopped. "Why not?"

"Because I know this symbol," the boy said, holding out the broken pendant. "It means something to me."

"Please," Liz added. "It's important."

Eddie looked the two of them up and down. On the surface they appeared nothing more than the kids they were, young, inexperienced, anxious. But there was something about the boy, something weightier, something ever so slightly....menacing. Eddie got the distinct impression that if he continued to walk away, the girl might accept that....but the boy wouldn't.

"There will be a test," Eddie told them. "If you pass the test. River Dog will answer all your questions."

Liz and the boy looked at each other, and surprisingly, it appeared to be Liz who made the decision. "Let's go," she told him.

Eddie snapped his flashlight on and walked away, turning around when he didn't hear feet following him.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

Footsteps crunching behind him told him they were, following him into the dark forest in silence. He had no idea if these kids were enemies or not, but if so, they wouldn't get the chance to do anything. He'd promised to leave his grandfather alone with the girl, but he'd never promised to leave him alone with anyone else. If they walked into that cave tonight, he was going with them.




***************************************************



Pepper's Grill and Bar,

Roswell



"Look, if my superiors find out about this, I'm off the case. Gone for good...and where does that leave you? Isn't there some other way we can work this out?"

Jim Valenti smiled then, a downright mischievous smile. "Why, whatever could you be thinking, Ms. Topolsky?"

"I probably have information that you would like to have, and you have information that I might want. Maybe we can work together here."

Valenti hesitated. "Let me think about that."

He walked out, and a minute later, so did Kathleen Topolsky, leaning against the wall of the building, one hand to her mouth as she watched him climb into his car. What on earth had she just said? Had she actually just offered to work with Jim Valenti? Had she actually just offered him information, classified information she could be charged with treason for divulging? Things had started out so well tonight, with Moss letting her know their suspects had all taken off together in the jeep. They'd stopped to drop off Max at the movie theater where he apparently had a date with Liz Parker, then roared off with her in hot pursuit. But she'd lost them, and in the process, attracted the attention of the sheriff. No problem she'd thought when he offered her a drink or a night in the clinker. She could handle a traffic ticket, conjure up some guidance counselor story about what she'd been doing. Piece of cake.

And then he'd dropped the bomb on her: He knew. He knew she was FBI, knew she'd been at Atherton's house, knew she was the one who'd KO'd him. Here she'd convinced herself that she'd just been paranoid when she'd suspected as much, and it turned out she'd been right; that sneaky little weasel had been conscious the whole time, or at least long enough to identify her. And not only that, he'd actually been following her, and successfully, no less—she'd had no idea she was being shadowed. It had been all she could do to keep a game face and mentally dig through the information she'd had Moss acquire on the Valenti's, or rather, Valenti Sr. Valenti Sr., as it turned out, was where all the action was, or had been; Valenti Jr. had never come near the Bureau prior to this and was as boring as vanilla pudding. Or had been until now, that is, when he'd just threatened to blow her in.

And that could not happen. Oh, she could just imagine the celebrations in some quarters if they were to learn that their first female agent had been smoked out by a town sheriff, and even more humiliatingly, by a Valenti, the very bane of the Unit's existence. If Stevens found out about this, she'd not only be off the case, she'd be off the Unit, out of the Bureau, even. She could not afford to have her cover blown, especially not by a Valenti. So she'd made a stab at throwing him off course with that comment about his father's mistakes, and it had glanced off him as though he were made of teflon, boomeranging in her direction. And that's when she'd remembered something else she'd read in those voluminous reports about Valenti Sr., about how one of the original Unit agents had actually argued they should be working with him, how someone that smart should be an ally, not an enemy....and what had happened when they'd tried.

Good God, Topolsky thought. I must be losing it. What was she thinking? The Unit had tried working with Valenti Sr., only to have him double cross them. And what if his son said "yes"? What could she possibly tell him that would hold his interest and not get her fired? She almost didn't know what to wish for, that he would say "yes" or "no". It appeared that either way, she was screwed.....unless she could deliver the suspects. Pulling out her cell phone, she punched buttons and waited impatiently for someone to answer.

"Moss," a voice said.

"Tell me they're back," Topolsky said in a brittle voice.

"They're not back," Moss said calmly. "You okay?"

Shit! Topolsky closed her eyes briefly, composed herself. No one could know about this. No one.

"Of course I'm okay," she answered. "Call me the minute they show up."

"Will do," Moss said.

Topolsky snapped her phone shut and went back into the bar. "Thought you'd left," the bartender remarked.

"Hadn't paid my tab," Topolsky said, climbing back onto her stool.

"No need. Sheriff paid it for you."

My knight in shining armor, Topolsky thought darkly. "How nice of him," she said flatly. "Get me a double."

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

"You have no idea."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"That is the absolute last thing I want to do."

The bartender smiled faintly. "Right. One double, coming right up."




***************************************************




Mescalero Indian Reservation




"You're here," Eddie said.

"We're where?" Liz asked.

"Good luck," Eddie said, handing over the flashlight.

"No, Eddie....Eddie!" Liz exclaimed. "You can't....you can't just leave us here."

"Hey! Hey, Eddie!" the boy called.

Eddie ignored her, missing a muttered comment from the boy as he hiked just far enough away to slip into the shadows and watch. The girl had the flashlight now, and was waving it around wildly, about as wildly as the boy's head was whipping from side to side. If these were enemies, they were easily spooked.

"I cannot believe this," the boy said angrily.

"No, Max...Max, look."

She'd found it. From the cover of the forest, Eddie watched as Liz led "Max" toward the cave's mouth, only a few yards from where he'd left them. Moving as quietly as he could, he followed. He needn't have worried; the kids were stumbling along frantically, heedless of the noise they were making. Here he'd been wondering during the whole walk just exactly who he was taking to his grandfather, been curious to see what they'd say and do after they thought he'd left. Would they go over their diabolical plan? Call for reinforcements? Take note of the cave and then leave without going inside? But here they were, bumbling around like frightened rabbits, like they had no idea what was in here, and he found himself questioning his grandfather's sanity all over again. It seemed that every time he started to believe him, something else happened to make it all look like nothing more than an old wives' tale.

The kids entered the cave, Eddie following close behind, ready to intervene if anything went awry. He knew his grandfather was expecting only the girl, and that there'd probably be hell to pay for letting anyone else near this place. Perhaps he'd been wrong to do so. Perhaps he should have insisted only the girl come. His second guessing was spurred along by the nagging feeling that something was wrong. It was still pitch dark in here, which was odd given all the torches he'd planted.....

There was a scuffling noise up ahead, and the flashlight abruptly went out. "Liz!" Max called.

"Let me go!" came Liz's startled voice.

"Liz! Liz, where are you?" Max called frantically.

She screamed then, a scream magnified by the cave, ricocheting off the walls, sending chills down Eddie's spine. What was happening? Was the girl trying to create a diversion? Had Max attacked her? Had he attacked River Dog?

And then light erupted, an odd glow from an odd source. For a moment Eddie thought the flashlight had been located, but this wasn't electric light. This wasn't any kind of light he'd ever seen before because it was coming from the cupped hands of a boy which held....nothing. Nothing but a glow which was coming from....nothing. A glow that shouldn't be there.

"Let her go," Max commanded.

A shuffling noise, and suddenly Liz was there, staring down into those empty and inexplicably glowing hands with the same wonderment Eddie was feeling. She didn't know, he realized....but the other spectator did. River Dog was gazing into the boy's hands also, but the look on his face held no surprise.

"Who are you?" Max asked.

River Dog looked up at him. "You have passed the test."

The boy stared at him for a moment....and then the glow began to build. It grew, shooting toward the ceiling, splaying out sideways, lighting up both kids, his grandfather, the torches arrayed a ways behind him, the entire cave. Eddie pulled back for fear it would light him too as the glow crept closer, and for fear of what was happening. How on earth was that kid doing this? What he was doing simply could not be, and the look on the boy's face suggested he felt the same way.

The only one who seemed unperturbed was River Dog, who calmly busied himself lighting the torches. When he'd finished, the boy seemed to let go, the glow fading, the boy staggering slightly like it had taken some effort to maintain it. River Dog nodded then as though he'd seen something he'd expected.

"There is always a price for power," he told the boy. "He told me that."

"Who told you that?" Max asked.

"The man I knew," River Dog answered. "The man who is like you."

Max asked another question, but Eddie didn't hear it. He was backing away as quickly as he dared, and when he reached the mouth of the cave, he ran, into the forest, into the darkness, stopping several yards away, panting. Had he really just seen what he thought he'd seen? Had he really just seen a kid produce light from thin air? The test, he realized. That must have been the test, to make light. That's why River Dog had been waiting in the dark, why he'd grabbed the girl and taken her flashlight. He'd been trying to force one of them to make their own light, and they had....or rather, one of them had. Only the boy. It's true, he thought wildly. All those weird stories, that strange symbol, that even stranger cave painting.....all true. And if that was true, what of the warning Jackie's grandmother had given him about "Nasedo"? Was that Nasedo in there, or was it someone else? And if it was Nasedo, why didn't River Dog recognize him? Questions swirled through Eddie's mind as he leaned against a tree for a good long while, shaking. He no longer had to wonder if his grandfather was mad or telling the truth; he'd now seen it with his own eyes. And I left him alone with it, he realized, coming to his senses. In his panic, he'd literally run away and left his grandfather alone with God knows who....or God knows what. Embarrassed, he headed back to the cave, only to dive for cover again when Liz and Max appeared in the cave's mouth, hand in hand, their audience apparently over. They walked away in silence, in a daze, even, and he waited until they were out of earshot before going back inside the cave.

"Grandfather?" he called into the darkness, cursing himself for not having the foresight to bring a second flashlight. "Grandfather!"

He rounded a corner, saw the glow of torches up ahead. River Dog was kneeling on the floor, his forehead nearly touching it as he bent over, palms down, bracing himself. "Grandfather!" Eddie called, scrambling forward, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What's wrong? Did they hurt you?"

River Dog's head shook. "No...." he whispered. "Weak....."

"But why?" Eddie demanded. "You weren't this weak an hour ago."

"Weak....fasting....."

"Fasting?" Eddie repeated. "Since when? I brought you food, plenty of food....."

He stopped, gazing at the bundle he'd brought earlier today, kicked it with a toe. It felt heavy, like nothing had been removed. Good Lord....if River Dog had truly gone without food since last night or even just this morning, he could be in very bad shape at his age. "You need to eat something," Eddie said, reaching for the bundle, only to have his hand pushed away.

"No," River Dog whispered. "Pocket....."

His hand waved toward his shirt. Eddie dug inside the pocket....and his fingers closed on a small stone. A familiar stone. Not again, he thought. He couldn't take any more right now, not after everything else.

"Let me get you something to eat," he said, leaving the stone where it was. "I'll fix—"

"Hold....it," River Dog said haltingly.

"Why?" Eddie demanded. "You need food, Grandfather, not rocks. Let me get you—"

River Dog's hand came up, closed on his, and suddenly Eddie's heart gave a lurch as he felt the stone in his hand. Here he'd almost convinced himself that he'd imagined the whole glowing stone business, and then that kid had made thin air glow. So much for that.

River Dog was pointing to the rock, or trying to, with a hand that shook so badly he could barely lift it. "Hold....hold...."

Eddie's heart began to pound as he looked back and forth from the stone to his grandfather, torn. These were the stranger's, he thought suspiciously, gazing at the stone like it might eat him. According to River Dog, these had belonged to the Nasedo, and Nasedo was supposedly dangerous. Did that mean this stone was dangerous?

"Hold...." River Dog whispered, still trying to point. "Hold....."

Before he lost his nerve, Eddie grabbed the stone. It immediately began glowing again, brighter this time though it remained cold in his hand. Was this what Jackie's grandmother had meant about "befriending the fire"?

He was about to find out.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 22 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!






CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO



November 13, 1999, 10:45 p.m.

Mescalero Indian Reservation



Doesn't feel like fire.

This was the first thing that went through Eddie's head as he sat alone with his grandfather in a dark cave deep in the woods with a strange glowing stone in his hand which was purported to have belonged to an alien. A preposterous idea, but one which nevertheless now held some merit given that Eddie had just witnessed a seemingly normal adolescent boy create light from thin air. He stared anxiously at the rock in his hand, the one he'd been so reluctant to touch yesterday and had dropped instantly, later convincing himself he'd just imagined the whole thing, expecting it to move, glow more fiercely, burn his skin, something. But nothing happened. The rock continued to glow steadily, remaining cool to the touch, and River Dog continued to crouch beside him, hunched over as though exhausted or ill or both. So what was supposed to happen now? How did his grandfather think this was going to help?

But then, little by little, River Dog began to look better. First his breathing eased, then he began to sit up a bit. Finally he sat up all the way, his eyes still closed, and eventually his eyes opened.

"Stop," he said clearly.

Stop what? Eddie thought, his own eyes beginning to close. He had no idea what his grandfather was talking about, and besides, he was tired. Time for a nap....

The stone was abruptly knocked from his hand. Startled, Eddie jerked awake and upright, having not realized he'd been leaning against the cave wall. River Dog was staring at him intently.

"What'd you do that for?" Eddie demanded.

"I was better," River Dog answered. "And you were getting worse. You mustn't let the stone take too much from you."

"Nothing 'took' anything from me," Eddie protested.

"Really? How do you feel?"

Eddie opened his mouth to say just fine, and suddenly realized that wasn't true. He felt tired; not exhausted, exactly, but markedly weary and slightly out of breath, as though he'd just been hiking for a while. His grandfather, on the other hand, looked wonderful. No one would ever guess that only a few minutes ago, he'd been hunched over on the cave floor looking like grim death.

"What happened?" Eddie whispered. "What did that do?"

"It allowed you to restore the balance," River Dog answered, easing himself into a sitting position with a grunt which belied how much better he was looking. "My balance, to be specific."

" 'Balance'?" Eddie repeated. "What does that mean?"

"He was never clear," River Dog said. "But he told me the stones contain energy. And they can restore the energy of one by taking from another."

"Is that why I'm tired? It took my energy?"

"And gave it to me," River Dog nodded. "If you're not careful, it can take too much."

Eddie glanced down at the stone in the dirt. That little rock had done all that? "There's always a price for power," he murmured.

River Dog's eyebrows rose. "You followed them into the cave."

It was not a question, and Eddie dropped his eyes, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, before his grandfather got angry. "I didn't want to leave you alone with them. I knew you were only expecting the girl."

"Then why did you lead the boy here too?" River Dog asked.

"He was with the girl," Eddie answered, "and he had the necklace, and....and he said he knew that symbol. That it meant something to him."

"And you believed him? Just like that?"

'I....I guess. Sort of. I mean....I don't know," Eddie finished in frustration. "He seemed...."

"What?"

"Serious," Eddie said. "Insistent. Like if I put him off, he wouldn't have taken 'no' for an answer."

"Is that all?"

No. "He had this air of....I don't know....danger?" Eddie admitted.

"Did he threaten you?"

"No. But....."

Eddie stopped, feeling horribly foolish. But his grandfather was merely nodding. "You followed your instincts," he said approvingly, "and they did not lead you astray. He is one of them...and the girl is not. She did not make the light."

"And she didn't know he could," Eddie added. "Did you see the look on her face when she looked into his hands? She'd never seen anything like that before."

"Nor had he," River Dog noted.

"Was that the test? To make light? But....why would he not know he could do that?" Eddie went on when River Dog nodded. "How could you be able to do something like that and not know it?"

River Dog was quiet for a moment, leaning against the cave wall and staring into space. "Nasedo told me there were others here like him," he said at length. "He said they were injured, and would take a long time to recover. The cave painting was left as a message for them if they came when he was not here."

"Did it work? Did either of them recognize it?"

River Dog shook his head. "No. The boy thought it looked familiar, but did not know what it meant. The girl, of course, knew nothing."

"So....that means the boy is still sick?" Eddie ventured.

"I don't know," River Dog admitted. "But Nasedo said that if they were not able to remember, it was best that they not know. I think that was why he did not tell me what the painting meant."

"But couldn't the boy's not knowing also mean he's an enemy?" Eddie asked. "Or that he's lying? I thought about that on the way up here, that they could be enemies. That's why I hid after I left them, and waited to hear what they would say."

"And?"

"And they acted like a couple of kids who'd just been left alone in a dark forest," Eddie sighed. "They were all frantic and waving the flashlight around until the girl found the cave."

"Interesting," River Dog murmured. "Do you think they're enemies?"

Eddie hesitated. "No," he said finally. "I don't. The boy is definitely....something. But I don't think he's an enemy."

"Nor did I," River Dog agreed. "Which is why I showed him the painting and told at least a little of Nasedo's story."

"Yeah, when do I get to hear that?" Eddie said. "I ran into Jackie's grandmother on the way up here, and she claimed Nasedo was dangerous. She said you'd tried to 'befriend the fire', and that fire always burned you."

River Dog nodded gravely. "Many were afraid of him....and not without reason. Nasedo was powerful, and power can always be dangerous."

"So was Nasedo dangerous?"

River Dog glanced down at the now dark stone. "He could be. He certainly was to the man who wore that necklace."

"But not to you?"

"Perhaps he would have been had I not respected him," River Dog answered. "Fire burns, yes, but it also protects. It gives life. Nasedo saved my life and the life of my father. He and my father were fast friends for many years."

"Tell me," Eddie said eagerly. "I want to hear all of it, every detail."

River Dog extended a hand. "Help me up. We should start back to the village before the stone's effects wear off. And on the way, I will tell you something of Nasedo."

Eddie pulled himself to his feet, surprised at how light-headed he felt. After dousing the torches, he helped River Dog to stand, and they left the cave together, his grandfather leaning on him heavily. It was a long walk back, even longer because they had to go so slowly, but Eddie didn't mind. The stories he was hearing sounded completely different now because he was no longer seeing them with a jaundiced eye. No wonder his grandfather had always seemed a bit crazy; when you'd seen the things he had, it was bound to affect you. And now he had seen, seen things no one would believe. This was no longer the wild workings of an old man's mind. This was real.

River Dog fell silent out of sheer weariness not long before they reached the house. Eddie suggested they use the magic stone again, but River Dog was adamant that he not use it twice in one night. He was leaning heavily on Eddie's shoulder when they opened the door to their house to find Eddie's parents waiting for them with furious looks on their faces.

"Where on earth have the two of you been?" his father demanded.




*****************************************************




Her eyes glued to the road, Liz Parker pulled her wooly hat off her head and dropped it onto the console between the front seats. A minute later she reached for the heat dial and turned it down, then thought better of it and turned it off. She'd cranked the heat when they'd finally made it back to the car because they'd been so cold, both from the November night air and what they'd just heard, but now it was getting oppressively hot. She would have loved to have shed her heavy sweater too, but somehow she thought her driver's ed teacher wouldn't approve of stripping while driving. Another five minutes passed, the dark road passing in silence. They seemed to be the only ones out here, their headlights the only source of light. Cooler air began to fill the car now that the heater was off, making it marginally more comfortable. Physically comfortable, that is. It would be a long time before either of them was comfortable in any other sense.

"Max, say something," she said finally.

Max's eyes never left the window, which he'd been staring out of in total silence since they'd reached the car. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Something. Anything. Anything at all."

"Then what I just said should be enough."

"Oh, c'mon, you know that's not what I meant!" Liz exclaimed. "You haven't said a single word since we left the cave. Just....just say something so I know you're okay."

Max was quiet for a moment. "I can't do that," he said finally. "Because I'm not okay."

Liz's hands tensed on the steering wheel. "Look, Max, I don't know what you're thinking because you won't tell me, but I can guess. What River Dog was talking about, it happened years ago. Years and years ago. It's a piece of the puzzle, but it's not about you. It isn't."

"Isn't it?" Max leaned in closer to the window, gazing upward. "Do you know how many times I've looked up at the sky and wondered where we came from? Or if there was anyone waiting for us to come home? Or if there was anyone else like us here?"

"Probably a lot," Liz said faintly. "An awful lot."

"Every day," Max said. "Every night. It's like a radio that's left on all the time, always droning in the background. Sometimes you actually listen to it, most of the time you don't, but it's always there. You're always aware of it."

Liz nodded in silence, unsure of what to say, or even if she should say anything that might staunch the flow of words which had finally started. "And so tonight, I listened," Max went on. "And I find out there was someone like us here, and he was a murderer. We suspected because of that picture Valenti had, but we didn't know for sure. Now we do." He paused. "Great."

"Max, we don't know it was a murder," Liz argued. "I know River Dog used the word 'murder', but he didn't really know that. He said he wasn't close enough to see what happened."

"We know what happened," Max said dully. "The alien killed Atherton."

"But why?" Liz pressed. "It doesn't make sense. River Dog said the alien trusted Atherton and gave him the necklace. Why would he do that if he were nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer? And what about what he said about the alien 'befriending' all of them?" she went on when Max's answer was nothing more than a slight shrug. "River Dog's not dead. He didn't say anyone else on the reservation died. If the alien was just a casual killer, there would be a lot more dead bodies lying around."

"Maybe," Max allowed.

"Definitely," Liz corrected. "There's too much we don't know, so we shouldn't be jumping to conclusions about what happened decades ago, or why, or what it means."

"I can't help it, Liz," Max said quietly. "We know next to nothing about ourselves. And in some ways I guess that's a good thing because when you don't know, you can make up your own answers. Good answers."

"What makes you think the answers are bad?"

"Well....they could be," Max said. "Couldn't they? We could be soldiers. Or escaped prisoners. Or psychopaths. Or—"

"Or political dissidents," Liz interrupted. "Or national heroes. Or explorers. Max, it could be anything. Anything. You and Isabel and Michael, you all know so little that the reason you're here could be anything at all, good or bad. And that's just talking about why you're here. It doesn't say a thing about who you are now, and when it comes to that, you can be anything you want to be. Whatever brought you here, it doesn't dictate who you are right now."

"Doesn't it?" Max said wistfully. "I'd love to believe that. Really, I would. But we don't know that. What if I come from some warmongering race? What if all the stories are true, and we really did come here to conquer the planet?"

"Do you want to conquer the planet?" Liz demanded. "Do you, Max Evans, want to take over planet Earth?"

"No, of course not," Max answered. "But—"

"Then there you go. Even if that's why you were sent here, you're not going to do it because you don't want to. You're not a robot. You can make your own decisions."

"I'd love to believe that too," Max said, "but frankly we don't know that either. For all we know, there's some alien program that kicks in at a certain age, and then I'll start killing people."

"Where did you get that idea?" Liz said, desperate to get this conversation back on track. "You're just making this all up because you're scared, because you learned a little bit, but not enough to fill in the blanks. So you're filling them in yourself with the worst things you can think of. Which is really counterproductive, Max. Until we know more, it's all in your head."

Max winced slightly. "Is it? Then how did I make that light in the cave?"

Liz blinked. "The light? What....you mean....you mean you haven't done that before?"

Max shook his head. "Never. And how did I know how to get back to the car? We left the cave and just started walking, and it occurred to me that without Eddie, we had no idea how to get back....but I remembered. I remembered the whole route, like I'd memorized it, or something. But I hadn't...not consciously, anyway. How did I do that?"

Liz felt her stomach knotting. She'd wondered where they were going when they left the cave. Max had confidently led her through the woods, and she'd just assumed he'd remembered the way. She'd never stopped to think how.

"But....you knew you had powers," she said. "You changed that sculpture."

"We know we can do some things," Max agreed. "But we don't use them much, and only for little things. We're too afraid to. But I'd never healed anyone before. I've never made light like that before. I just thought maybe I could because....well....because it made sense based on what I already know I could do. And that makes me wonder....what else can I do? What else can I do that I don't even know I can do? I made the light, and then River Dog let you go. And I wanted to see him, wanted to see where we were and who else was there with us. And then suddenly, the light just....grew. I didn't do it on purpose. I wasn't trying to. It just got brighter, lit up the whole cave, and I felt....dizzy. Light-headed. Like you do when you stand up too fast." He paused. "I'm changing, Liz. All of this, it's changing me. I not only know things I didn't know before, I can do things I couldn't do before, and I don't even know how I'm doing them. I'm not sure I could make that light again if I tried because I'm not sure how I did it in the first place."

"Okay," Liz said, "let's think this through. This isn't magic, it's science, even if it's not human science, so there should be an explanation. You said the light got brighter when you wanted to see more. What else were you thinking when you made the light? What were you feeling?"

"That I wanted to know where you were," Max said. "That I was afraid for you."

Liz felt her eyes growing warm, and she blinked rapidly. "Okay, then, what were you thinking on the way back to the car? That you wanted to go home? Like, really, really wanted to go home?"

"Pretty much."

"So it sounds like your powers automatically responded to what you wanted," Liz said, breathing a bit easier now that she'd conjured up what at least sounded like a logical explanation. "You thought something, you wanted something, and you made it happen. You just don't know how. Or why this hasn't happened before."

"That I think I do know," Max said. "I've never been in situations like this before. I've never been chased, never chased someone else, never....." He paused. "Never feared for someone's life before," he added softly. "Never."

"Then this is all just a response to being in extreme situations you've never had to handle before," Liz said, nodding vigorously. "That's why it looks like you have all these new powers. They're not new. You could probably always do those things, you just never had a reason to." She paused. "Before me," she added with a lump in her throat. "What it boils down to is that this is all my fault."

"No!" Max exclaimed

"Yes!" Liz argued. "If not for me, you wouldn't have people chasing you, you wouldn't know you could do all these things, you wouldn't be so worried about who and what you are. It's all because of me. If you hadn't healed me, none of this would have happened."

"Liz, stop the car," Max ordered.

"Why?"

"Just stop the car. Pull over. Right here."

Liz braked, coasted to the side of the road, put the car in park. "Now, look at me," Max said firmly, waiting until she did. "If I hadn't healed you, I would never have forgiven myself. I didn't know if it would work, but if I hadn't at least tried, I would have lived the rest of my life regretting it. These questions, these fears I have, they were always there. You didn't put them there."

"But I brought them out," Liz said miserably. "All of this....Atherton, River Dog, your powers....it wouldn't have happened if—"

"You don't know that," Max interrupted. "It may have happened anyway, just some other way. And then I'd be grappling with all of it without you here....and that would really be hell." He leaned in closer, took her face in his hands. "I have never...and will never....regret saving your life. Not once. Not ever. No matter what happens or doesn't happen because of it, I will always be grateful it worked. And I'll always be grateful that I don't have to go through this alone, that you're willing to go with me. I just wish...."

"What?" Liz whispered. "You wish what?"

Max's hands dropped. "I wish I could stop worrying that I could hurt you."

Liz's eyes widened. "How could you think that? You saved me! Why would you think you would hurt me? It doesn't matter that you're doing things you haven't done before," she added fiercely before he could say anything. "It doesn't matter that you don't know how you did them. None of the things you've done has hurt anyone. You're not a horrible person, Max. Whoever you are, however you got here, you're a good person. I'm sure of it."

It was suddenly quiet in the dark car as they leaned toward each other, their foreheads barely touching. "I hope so," Max said finally. "I hope you're right."

"I'm right," Liz said firmly. "I know I'm right." She pulled away reluctantly, knowing that if she could sit this close to him all night, she would. "We should get back. They'll all be going nuts wondering what happened."

Max sat up. "Right. We should."

Liz shifted the Jetta into gear and pulled back onto the still empty road. "We're not telling them about the cave painting," Max said suddenly.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I want a chance to think about it first. And because if Michael finds out about it, the first thing he'll do is run out there to look at it with the FBI right on his heels."

"But—"

"No 'buts'. We keep that to ourselves. For now."

"But the painting is huge, Max! Someone left that for you. Someone knew you were coming, and even made sure you'd have to pass a test before you saw it, a test he knew you could pass. Which means he knows what you're capable of."

"Right," Max said soberly. "We were left a message by a murderer who knows what we can do even when we don't." He paused, catching the way she stiffened, the way her hands clenched on the wheel.

"Now you know how I feel," he said softly. "Scared yet?"




*****************************************************



Mescalero Indian Reservation




"What were you thinking, dragging an old man into the woods like that?" Eddie's mother demanded. "Honestly, we leave you in charge, and then you go do something like this!"

"You could have killed him, son," his father added. "Your grandfather is not well."

"He's just tired," Eddie argued. "And I didn't 'drag' anyone anywhere, and no one's dead. Could we just tone down the drama a little bit?"

" 'Drama'?" his mother echoed. "You shirk your responsibility, and then call it 'drama'? If you...."

Eddie didn't hear the rest, tuning out before he said something he really regretted as he sat stiffly on a kitchen stool, arms crossed, fingers tapping angrily. His parents had been at him for the last fifteen minutes, droning on and on about "responsibility" and how "disappointed" they were. It didn't help that River Dog had been so exhausted when they'd reached the house that he'd immediately fallen into a deep sleep. His grandfather wasn't awake to vouch for him, leaving him here with his irate parents and their telltale pack of foodstuffs and other equipment, a dead giveaway that they'd been planning more than just a walk. This wasn't going well.

"So you go traipsing off into the woods with an old man?" his mother was fretting. "And not once, not twice, but three times in the last twenty-four hours? As if it weren't bad enough—"

"Wait a minute," Eddie broke in. "What makes you think we went into the woods three times?"

"Don't try to deny it," his mother said stoutly. "We know."

"But how do you know? Why are you even here? You weren't due back until tomorrow night."

"Others in the village keep their eyes open," his father said evasively.

" 'Others'? Others like....who?"

"Never mind," his mother said. "It doesn't matter."

Eddie's face clouded. "Like hell it doesn't. And I think I will 'never mind' because I've already answered my own question."

He got up and walked out, ignoring his mother's escalating protests and his father's hasty attempts to join her. He was aware of only two people in this village who had any knowledge of what had been going on between him and his grandfather, so it didn't take much effort to narrow down the culprit. He strode through the village with quick, determined strides until he reached the right house, pounding loudly on the door despite the late hour. A light snapped on overhead; a curtain moved. A moment later, the door cracked open just as he'd started pounding again.

"Knock it off!" Jackie hissed. "You'll wake my grandmother!"

"Ask me if I care," Eddie retorted. "You called my parents. Why?"

Jackie blinked. "Me? I—"

"It must have been you," Eddie interrupted. "I know damned well your grandmother won't touch a telephone."

Jackie hesitated, glancing back inside the house before coming outside, pulling her robe closer as she closed the door behind her. "She made me," she insisted. "Grandmother made me call. It wasn't my idea."

"Oh, and so you just did it? You couldn't say 'no'? You couldn't say, 'Gee, gram, why don't we mind our own business?' "

"I told you, she made me," Jackie repeated. "You know how insistent she can be."

"Yeah, and I know that I know how to say 'no'," Eddie shot back. "Don't you?"

"Maybe I didn't want to," Jackie said defiantly. "Maybe I thought calling them was a good idea because River Dog shouldn't be up at that cave."

"What cave?"

"The cave you mentioned."

Eddie's eyes narrowed. "I never said a word about a cave."

Jackie's eyes widened slightly as she realized she'd given something away. "So your grandmother knows about the cave," Eddie went on as Jackie fidgeted self-consciously with her robe. "And she knows about the symbol on the girl's necklace. And she thinks she has a right to butt into other people's business. Quite a combination there."

"She was worried!" Jackie exclaimed. "We saw the two of you go into the woods last night. And then you went again today, and took a whole bunch of stuff. And then we saw you down by the carts with that girl again and some other guy, and you took them into the woods too. She came back, Eddie. Why did she come back?"

"That is none of your business," Eddie said furiously. "I can't believe you made me promise to leave your grandmother out of all this, and then you go and drag my parents into it? I want to talk to her. I want to know why she thinks she can butt into my business."

"No!" Jackie exclaimed, blocking his path. "It's late. She's in bed. And you promised. I don't want her involved in this."

"Yeah? Well, that promise means nothing," Eddie declared, "and not because I involved her in this—she involved herself. If she's going to go around blabbering and tattling, the least she can do is tell me everything she knows."

"I won't let you put my grandmother in danger," Jackie warned.

"And I won't let you or your grandmother dictate where my grandfather and I go, or what we do, or why. If you want me to leave her alone, then both of you leave me alone. And if you won't, then I won't either."

"You're not being very respectful of an old woman who's just afraid for you and your grandfather," Jackie protested.

" 'Respectful?' You've got to be kidding!" Eddie exclaimed. "How about respecting my grandfather for a change? How about leaving him alone? You know my parents are going to be on his case just as soon as he wakes up. Why does your grandmother deserve all this 'respect', but River Dog gets squat?"

"Eddie....Eddie!" Jackie called as he started to walk away. "Wait! How is River Dog? Is he okay? That's the most important thing here, and Grandmother will want to know."

Eddie stopped. "Funny," he said flatly, "that the 'most important thing' is something you haven't even asked about until now. And tell your grandmother I don't care what she wants to know unless and until she's ready to tell me what she knows."




*****************************************************



Evans residence



"You still up?"

Max slid his arm across his drawing, hoping the movement was casual enough not to draw his sister's attention. "Couldn't sleep," he answered. "Understandably."

"Yeah," Isabel sighed, sinking down on the bed behind him, not even glancing at the paper he was hiding. "I'm still buzzing, and I wasn't even there. I can't imagine how you must feel."

"I'm not sure how I feel either," Max admitted. "Lots of different ways, to be honest."

"Me too," Isabel said. "Like, it's so exciting to know there's someone else like us, or at least was someone else like us....but then you factor in that he was a murderer, and suddenly it doesn't feel so exciting."

"Liz thinks something else was going on there," Max said. "She pointed out that this alien gave Atherton the necklace, and that River Dog said Atherton was the only one the alien trusted. She thought they must have had a falling out of some sort because it sounds like they were friends."

"Oh, Liz thinks that, does she?" Isabel muttered. "All hail little Miss Scientist."

Max frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Isabel's hands worked in her lap. "You shouldn't have taken her, Max. This isn't about her. You should have taken one of us."

"I couldn't. Eddie was expecting Liz. As it is, he almost wouldn't take us to the cave because I was there."

"But why was Eddie expecting Liz?" Isabel asked. "Because she's the one who went out there in the first place with the necklace. It should have been one of us."

"We would have been followed," Max argued. "Liz could do it because she isn't being followed."

"We were being followed tonight, and we managed," Isabel said. "Why couldn't we have managed the first time?"

"We 'managed', but we took a huge risk if it didn't work," Max said. "It was a risk worth taking because we knew there was something out there, but at first, we had no idea there was anything out there to find. Liz just asked some questions, and she got lucky. No one knew that would happen. If River Dog hadn't been there that night, nothing would have."

"But it did happen," Isabel said. "And it happened to her, not us. And that's just wrong. It's wrong that she's out there listening to things that don't concern her while we're cooling our heels at the Crashdown."

Max sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "This is Michael talking, isn't it?"

"Well, he has point," Isabel protested. "We could have gone with you and followed from a distance. Eddie didn't have to know we were there."

"And then what happens when River Dog finds out, gets mad, and doesn't tell us anything?" Max demanded. "Liz was just trying to help, trying to use the fact that she's not being watched to get us some answers that were hard to get by ourselves. Maybe you begrudge her going tonight, but the least you could do is acknowledge that she went out on a limb for us, even if you don't like it."

Isabel wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed heavily. "I guess. I just....I hear about all this, about you making light and listening to the stories, and I just really wanted to be there."

"And you can be, just as soon as whoever's following us gets bored and leaves," Max said gently. "But not now. I told you everything he said. I realize it's not like being there, but for now, it'll have to do."

"Yeah," Isabel said glumly. "I guess." She climbed off the bed, paused. "I know you told me everything he said, but..."

"But what?"

Isabel twisted the edge of her pajama top. "You didn't show us the light you made. How did you do it?"

Max looked away. "I don't know how I did it."

"Well, what did it look like?"

"It looked like.....light."

"Real descriptive, Max," Isabel said dryly. "I don't suppose you'd show me?"

"Maybe later," Max said. "The whole thing was really....unsettling."

"Yeah, well, I guess I wouldn't know," Isabel said. "Because I wasn't there....was I?"

She left, closing the door behind her, and Max locked his hands behind his head and sighed. Michael had not been pleased to have to merely listen to what had happened at the cave, and Liz had wisely kept silent, letting Max do the telling without reminding everyone all over again that she'd been there and they hadn't. She'd taken an awful risk going out there all by herself, and she'd done it all for them. Why couldn't they see that? Jealousy was a nasty monster even when it didn't involve romance.

I'm too tired for this, Max thought wearily. He tucked his drawing further beneath the desk blotter, turned off the light, and crawled into bed. Conflict with his sister had done what nothing else could have; made him long for sleep. He'd only just closed his eyes when they flew open again. He could have sworn he'd heard something, and he scanned the dark room carefully.

Nothing. I'm getting paranoid, he thought, sinking back down onto the bed. Wandering around in caves and listening to tales of murder could do that to you.




*****************************************************



Interesting, Brivari thought from the other side of the room. He had barely moved as he entered, so it would appear the hybrids' hearing was heightened over that of a normal human's. Not surprising, really, but news all the same. He waited a few minutes until his Ward's deep, even breathing signaled he was asleep before moving out into the room. Dee had phoned just as soon as Zan and Vilandra had reappeared, and further investigation had revealed that Rath, too, was home. Good news, that, as had been his discovery that Atherton's house was dark and unmolested. But that still didn't answer the question of where they'd all been this night, of why they'd gone to the trouble of throwing off Topolsky. He hadn't been close enough to see what Zan had hastily hidden when Vilandra had interrupted, and then he'd had to wait while she had what appeared to be yet another of her tantrums, albeit a muted one compared to their earlier incarnations. Now he went to the desk, moved the blotter....and blinked.

Well, I'll be damned, he thought, flabbergasted. They found the cave.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 23 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!






CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE




November 29, 1999, 10:30 a.m.

Mescalero Indian Reservation



Eddie planted the torch in the cave floor and took a seat, crossing his legs, his hands on his knees. For the next several minutes, he sat and stared.

Ten minutes later he shifted, stretching. He'd done this so often that, even with his eyes closed, he could still see the symbols laid out before him in a pattern no one could decipher. But he'd been trying, coming virtually every day since the boy and the girl had been here to sit and gaze at the painting on the cave wall, trying to make some sense of it. At first he'd come in a sort of self defense, under attack from his parents for allowing his grandfather to trek into the woods and from Jackie for losing his temper over her tattling to his parents. River Dog, for his part, had arisen hale and hearty after a good night's sleep and told his parents to back off. Which they had, albeit reluctantly, when they'd discovered that not only was River Dog unharmed, he was actually more energetic than he'd been in years. Fulfilling his promise to the stranger from years ago seemed to have imbued him with a new sense of purpose, which had further piqued Eddie's interest in the origins of that mysterious visitor and sent him to the cave, both to escape the testy atmosphere at home and to remind himself that everything had really happened. It all seemed so weird in the light of day and in the face of everyone's accusations, but here, in the dark cave lit only by flickering torchlight, it all made sense. And even after the tempest had blown over, he'd kept coming, determined to learn more.

But two weeks of daily study had produced no insights about the symbols on the cave wall. Many, if not most, were curved or circular, similar to prehistoric markings. But if this "Nasedo" was from another planet, these couldn't be prehistoric, at least not the way "prehistoric" was perceived on Earth. Perhaps it was instructions? Warnings? A handy how-to-build-a-spaceship guide? He had no idea, and in many ways, it didn't matter. Whatever it was, these markings had had a profound effect on his grandfather and no doubt on the boy and girl as well. And on me, Eddie admitted. His world had grown larger and smaller simultaneously as he'd acquired both the knowledge that there was "other" life on this world and the need to keep it secret. That had been the most frustrating thing about all the harping from his parents and Jackie, the fact that he couldn't tell them everything, all the wonderful things he'd seen and learned. Coming here and looking at the painting made it easier to keep his mouth shut and, truth be told, had become something of a calming ritual for him. Sitting in silence in a dark, empty place had its merits.

But merits or no merits, he couldn't spend all day here. Climbing to his feet, Eddie pulled the torch out of the ground and headed back out. When he reached the cave's mouth, he doused the torch and tucked it up against the wall for next time, then paused, standing stock still, looking into the dark depths of the cave behind him. Hearing nothing, he shrugged. Must have been imagining things again. He began his hike back, emerging from the woods a little over a half hour later and crossing the open space between the forest and his house, the same house in which his grandfather had lived as a child. His hand was on the back door when someone rounded the corner.

"Gone back there, have you?"

It was Jackie's grandmother, Sonsee, leaning on her walking stick wearing a face like grim death. He hadn't seen her since the night he'd taken the girl to the cave, and it didn't look like her disposition had improved one bit, nor had her health, which looked even worse now that River Dog's had improved.

"Gone back where?" he said innocently.

"Don't play dumb," Sonsee said sharply. "I know where you've been. You've been to that cave."

"If you know, then why are you asking?"

"Don't give me lip, boy," Sonsee snapped, prodding him with her stick, or trying to, its leaving the ground causing her to lean heavily against the wall of the house. "Playing with fire, I tell you. You and your grandfather."

"My grandfather is just fine, thank you," Eddie said firmly. "Never better, actually."

"For now," Sonsee amended.

"Yes, for 'now'," Eddie said impatiently. " 'Now' is all any of us have, right?"

"Don't you talk back to me!" Sonsee declared, attempting another poke with her stick and managing it this time. Eddie was just about to lose his temper when the back door opened.

It was River Dog. He and Sonsee stared at each other in silence for a long moment, the former passive, the latter scowling. At length she shuffled off, muttering something about "fire" under her breath.

"What a sweetheart," Eddie muttered.

"Were you disrespectful?" River Dog asked.

"Me?!" Eddie said in disbelief. "What about her? She ambushes me, accuses me of going to the cave, then—"

"Is she right? Did you go to the cave?"

"Well....I.....yeah," Eddie answered, flustered. "But that's none of her business."

"But it is mine," River Dog said. "You shouldn't go there."

"Why not? I didn't tell anyone about it."

"It is not for you," River Dog replied. "I myself had not laid eyes on it since Nasedo left until the day I sent you for the girl."

Eddie blinked. "Really? All those years, and you never went back? Why not?"

"It was not for me either."

"Then it's definitely not for her," Eddie said sourly, looking in the direction Jackie's grandmother had taken. "She's the one who ratted you out, you know. She made Jackie call my parents."

"I know."

"You know?" Eddie repeated. "And you're not mad?"

"Why should I be? She didn't stop me from fulfilling my promise. No one could, not even your parents. Let them all sputter, if they wish. It's done. What happens now is not up to us, or to them. It's all just noise. Ignore it."

"Easy for you to say," Eddie grumbled. "How does she even know about the cave? I thought it was this great big secret."

"It is no secret that Nasedo lived in the cave," River Dog answered. "That's why some think it haunted, and I never disputed that because it served my purpose. There are few left who even remember where it is. They must not remember, and no one must find it. Which is why you must stop going."

"I told you, I didn't tell anyone," Eddie protested. "And no one followed me."

"But they will," River Dog said. "If Sonsee is watching you go into the woods, others are too, or they will when they hear her talking about it. No one else can find it."

"Okay, okay," Eddie said. "I'll stop. But...."

He stopped as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. There it was again, that weird feeling......

"What is it?" River Dog asked.

Eddie's eyes darted around before he beckoned his grandfather into the house and closed the door. "I know no one followed me," he insisted. "I know that. But still....I've gotten this feeling at the cave sometimes, like someone's watching me. And I just got it again. I've never felt it here before, but...."

He stopped, certain that his grandfather would think he was crazy. But River Dog said nothing, just looked out the window intently for several long minutes, watching the woods. Finally he backed away, pulling Eddie with him.

"Listen to me," he said firmly. "You must not go back there. I forbid it."

"Grandfather, I know no one followed me—"

"No one human, that is."

Eddie's eyes widened. "What....you mean....you think....."

"I told you about this," River Dog said. "Don't you remember the test and the reason for it? Nasedo had enemies, enemies from his world. It wasn't just humans who were getting too close."

"I....I'm sorry," Eddie stammered. "I....forgot. I mean, when the boy wasn't an enemy, I just assumed—"

"Don't ever assume," River Dog said. "Stay away from the cave."





*****************************************************




Crashdown Café




"You're late," Dee said.

"I was delayed," Brivari answered as he slid into a seat across from her.

Dee studied him for a moment. "You were lurking again, weren't you?"

"Of course I was lurking," Brivari said, cursing that damnable insight of hers. "That's what Warders do. We lurk."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Dee said firmly. "Why don't you just say 'hello'? It's not like he wouldn't remember you. He took them to the cave, didn't he?"

Yes, he did, Brivari thought, nodding briefly as a wobbly headdressed-waitress appeared with a pot of coffee. After all this time, all these years, decades even, River Dog had kept his word, delivering his message to none other than the king himself. Most kings could only wish for such an ally.

"River Dog was a several years older than I was that year he went to my school," Dee said. "He must be pushing seventy. All this lurking wouldn't have anything to do with that, would it?"

Brivari studied the cup of coffee the waitress had poured. "The years have not been as kind to him as they were to you."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that was an attempt at a pick-up line," Dee said dryly. "Oh, please," she added when he glared at her. "I was only joking. You could use a little humor; you've been lurking for the last two weeks. And moping. Lurking and moping. And you haven't told me a thing you've learned from all the lurking." She paused, waiting expectantly for an answer. "Okay, then," she went on when none came, "I'll start. I'm guessing they found the pod chamber and followed the directions you said you left to the cave."

"And you'd be wrong," Brivari answered. "That was my first thought as well, but no one has touched the pod chamber."

Dee blinked. "But....they found the cave."

"But I still don't know how," Brivari admitted. "It appears they linked Atherton's necklace to the Indian reservation, and the rest followed."

"Don't you mean Vilandra's necklace?"

"James accepted it far more gratefully than she ever did," Brivari muttered.

"But isn't this good news?" Dee asked, sidestepping the issue of necklace ownership. "They didn't get there the way you thought they would, but they did get there. Why are you acting like it's some big tragedy?"

"I was never expecting them to get there at all," Brivari answered. "The map was left as insurance should they emerge far in the future without Warders, and full grown, of course. When they emerged so young, I mentally wrote it off as something that would never be needed. And then...."

"And then?" Dee prodded gently when he didn't continue.

Brivari closed his eyes briefly. "And then, when I realized they'd found it, I made a mistake. I allowed myself to hope. To hope that it meant something."

The waitress reappeared. Dee waited until they had both ordered and she'd left before speaking again.

"It does mean something," she insisted. "It means they're curious. It means they can put two and two together and come up with the right answer, even if the way they got that answer wasn't what you were expecting. It means they know they're being followed and are capable of handling that. It means Max did whatever he needed to do to get River Dog to show him what you left. All of that means something, and it means something good.....doesn't it?"

"Lets get to the 'not so good' parts," Brivari said. "They found the cave, yes. But Zan can't read the map we left. I was hoping the sight of it would jog his memory, but it hasn't. Rath is more likely to be able to read it because he developed the code it contained, but for some reason, Zan did not see fit to bring Rath to the cave. For some unfathomable reason, he brought that Parker girl."

Dee raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one he's in love with?"

"I mean a human who had no place there. It's entirely inappropriate that he would leave his Second behind and take a human instead."

"Michael doesn't know he's a 'Second', and neither does Max," Dee said. "And you know how Michael is. I don't blame Max for feeling safer with Liz."

"She's too deeply involved," Brivari argued. "He shouldn't be pulling her even further into this."

"You've always said Zan was good at forming alliances," Dee noted. "What makes you think he's formed a poor one this time? Liz could have turned Max in months ago, and she hasn't."

"Perhaps," Brivari said grudgingly. "But the notion of leaving Rath behind and taking a human is....disturbing. And he didn't just leave him behind, he's keeping the map from him."

"You mean like you're keeping the fact that they're becoming more and more aware from Jaddo?"

"Apples and oranges. You know how Jaddo is."

"Maybe. I'm just pointing out that both Ward and Warder have made a judgment call on what to share and what not to. Are you sure he's keeping the map a secret?"

"Am I sure my Ward is hiding a drawing that he keeps hidden at all times? Yes, I'm sure."

"Just checking," Dee said. "I find you tend to assume the worst of any of them. What about Isabel? Has she seen it?"

"No, but Vilandra wouldn't know how to read it; she never participated in military matters. Except that once," Brivari added darkly, "when it brought the planet down."

"She's 'Isabel', not Vilandra," Dee said. "And she's nowhere near as self-centered as you tell me Vilandra was."

"If you say so. Regardless, 'Isabel' cannot possess information that Vilandra did not have. She wouldn't have been able to read it pre-transformation, so she won't be able to read it now. Rath is the one who needs to see it. It's not like Zan to keep something like that from his Second."

"It's not Zan and Rath, it's Max and Michael," Dee said pointedly. "You didn't really expect them to just wake up one morning and be who they were, did you? I think they will remember someday, but I think it will take time and come in waves, just like any growth." She paused as the waitress reappeared with plates of food. "If you want to learn more, you're going to have to stop lurking," she went on after the waitress had retreated. "Talk to River Dog."

"It's not just River Dog," Brivari said. "I gather it was his grandson who led Zan to the cave."

"Well, you said he was supposed to pass it down. That means he did exactly what you asked."

"I know. It's just....there appears to be some dissension in the village."

"Over what?"

"Over the girl appearing with the necklace bearing a symbol which frightened everyone years ago. Over River Dog disappearing into the forest like he used to, like his father used to. Apparently stories are still told above the cave. It's said to be haunted."

"So you're worried that reappearing now would be bad for River Dog?"

Brivari hesitated. "I worry....that I would not be entirely welcome."

"Ah," Dee said softly. "I see." She was quiet for a moment. "Then perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps lurking is the best thing to do for the moment. Although I still think you could do without the moping. Maybe it isn't everything you'd hoped it would be, but it's a good deal more than you had before."

"Yes," Brivari sighed. "Which means they're all in a good deal more danger than they were before."

"Stop fretting," Dee advised. "They're in school, remember? You can at least put off fretting until this afternoon."

A ring sounded. Dee put down her hamburger, wiped her hands on her napkin, and reached into her purse for her cell phone. "Hello?"

A moment later, her eyes widened. "What? When? Isabel, slow down," Dee ordered as Brivari's eyes snapped to hers. "I'm close by, so I can pick you up. Just stay calm, and wait outside. I'll be right there."

"What happened?" Brivari asked sharply.

"Start fretting," Dee said, tossing her napkin on the table. "Max isn't in school; he's in the hospital."




******************************************************




West Roswell High School




"Annette, I told you I needed two hundred copies of these by this morning," Kathleen Topolsky said irritably, tossing the originals on one of the school secretaries' desks. "Where are they? Honestly, how am I supposed to do my job if the support staff doesn't do theirs?"

The support staff in question, comprised of three women who had stopped dead in their tracks, blinked slowly at Topolsky. "I....finished them yesterday afternoon, Miss Topolsky," Annette said. "They're in your mailbox."

"No, they're not," Topolsky huffed.

Annette blinked again, glanced sideways at her nearest office mate, who shrugged slightly. Rising from her desk, she walked to the mailboxes arrayed on one wall and pulled a stack of papers out of the one marked "Topolsky, K."

"Oh," Topolsky said faintly, her face pinking. "I....I'm sorry. I....must have missed them."

"How do you miss two hundred copies?" muttered another secretary.

"Morning, ladies. How is everyone this fine morning?"

Topolsky felt her stomach clench as she forced a smile and turned around, hoping against hope that her face wasn't as red as it felt. "Good morning, Sheriff. Annette, I....thank you. I appreciate you running these off for me. If you'll excuse me...."

Valenti stepped aside with a wave of his hat. "Of course. Lots to do, I'm sure. Word is that guidance counseling is one of the most stressful jobs out there. Ranks right up there with law enforcement."

"Really?" Annette said. "I would never have guessed that! I would have thought....."

Topolsky fled, hugging her overlooked copies to her chest and moving as quickly as she dared without giving the appearance of running away. Which is exactly what she was doing, what she'd been doing for the past two weeks. Ever since she and Valenti had had their little "chat", he'd been following her everywhere. Now he wasn't just watching her shop the health food aisles and work out at the gym, he was making a point of letting her know he was watching her, sidling up beside her and striking up a conversation about the relative merits of high fiber cereal or how many pounds to bench press, stopping by the school daily and making certain he popped in to say "Hi". His presence was so ubiquitous that she half expected him to be there when she came out of a stall in the ladies room or pulled into her driveway. It was infuriating, that little smirk he always wore, the one that said, "I know who you are, and I can out you any time I want." And he can, she thought heavily as she closed the door to her office and plunked the copies on her desk. She'd been on pins and needles every minute of every day, expecting the other shoe to drop. So why hadn't it? What was he waiting for? He must still be considering her offer to share and share alike. Perhaps she should be grateful he was still mulling it over; the more he mulled, the more time she had to find something that would save her career when he either ratted her out or took her up on her offer, either of which would be disastrous because she couldn't tell him a blessed thing. She couldn't even make something up because, as much as she hated to admit it, he already knew who she was after and why.

A beep sounded. Topolsky sank into her desk chair and entered a password, revealing an e-mail from Agent Stevens demanding a report. She stared at it for a full minute before closing the e-mail, her fingers drumming on the desk, the refrain playing over and over in her head: I have nothing to tell him. Since she'd been nabbed by Valenti while tailing the kids, precisely nothing had happened. Despite her and her agents watching them like hawks, albeit at legal speeds, the kids had done absolutely nothing of interest. Perhaps she'd scared them off? She'd always held the opinion that barging into the Evans' house and taking those files had been a bad idea. Better to leave them there and see what the kids did with them, especially since the Unit still had the rest of Atherton's underground stash to play with. But Stevens had been so upset that she hadn't thought it wise to voice that opinion, and the files had been taken, the equivalent of erecting a neon sign informing the kids that someone was watching them. Now they were being more careful, providing a dearth of information at the worst possible time, when she needed it the most. Even absent Valenti, if she didn't have something to dangle in front of Stevens, something big, something juicy, her career in at least the Unit was over, and very likely the Bureau as well.

To work, Topolsky sighed, gazing at her missing copies. She'd been so distracted that her performance at school had begun to waver, and that must not happen. This job and the position of authority it gave her was her main avenue to learn anything of value about the suspects, so it was imperative that she be viewed sympathetically. She'd just chewed out Annette, so there was a bridge to rebuild. A sad story, about her sick mother, perhaps, would resonate with a woman Annette's age who likely had an elderly parent or knew someone who did. That plus some doughnuts or other food offering ought to smooth things over. The office staff could make life a living hell if they wanted to, so it would be best to put this fire out as soon as possible. Tucking her laptop in her briefcase, she'd just walked out of her office when she spied the principal coming toward her.

"Miss Topolsky, we were just notified that we have students in the hospital," he said. "They were in a car accident."

"Who?" Topolsky asked.

"Max Evans and Liz Parker were taken to Roswell Memorial. I'll inform you as soon as I have an update."

And the Gods smiled! Topolsky cheered, working hard to keep a smile off her own face. It wouldn't do to be grinning like an idiot when one had just received news that most people would find disturbing. "Why don't you let me stay on top of it?" she suggested quickly. "I know these kids. I want to make sure everything's okay."

The principal, always a bit on the harried side, didn't argue. "Thanks a lot, Miss Topolsky," he said before hurrying away, obviously grateful to have one more thing off his plate. Topolsky ducked behind the nearest wall of lockers and pulled out her cell phone. Annette's sob story would have to wait.

"Hello?" Moss's voice said.

"Get to the hospital," Topolsky ordered. "Now. We might have an opportunity."




*****************************************************




Dee wasn't the least bit surprised to find not one, but two people waiting for her outside the high school, pacing impatiently, trotting to the curb as she pulled up. They had the doors open before she'd even shifted into park.

"What happened?" Dee asked as Isabel scrambled into the front seat and Michael into the back.

"I don't know," Isabel said tensely. "Liz called Maria and said she and Max had been in a car accident."

"What the hell were they doing in a car at this hour?" Michael demanded. "Since when does Goody-Two-Shoes Liz Parker play hooky?"

"Since she fell in love?" Dee suggested.

No answer. Isabel stared out the window and Michael merely scowled as they pulled out onto the road. "So did Liz say anything else?" Dee asked. "Is Max okay? Is she okay?"

"I don't care if she's okay," Michael muttered.

"Well, I do," Dee said firmly.

"Apparently Liz is just banged up, but Max is unconscious," Isabel answered, chewing on a formerly perfectly manicured nail. "Unconscious," she repeated in dismay. "Do you know what that could mean? What if he's—"

"Fine?" Dee interrupted. "He's probably just fine, Isabel. Max is young and healthy. Let's not jump to conclusions."

"Right," Isabel agreed, nodding vigorously. "We should just wait and see."

"How long till we get to the hospital?" Michael asked.

"Five or ten minutes, depending on the......lights," Dee sighed just as the light up ahead turned red.

"Damn it!" Isabel exclaimed. "This one takes forever!"

Dee coasted to a stop behind the car in front of her....and the light abruptly turned green again. Startled traffic moving in the opposite direction hesitated or lurched to a halt. Isabel glanced back at Michael, who was wearing a smug expression in the rear view mirror.

"My goodness," Dee said innocently. "It appears this traffic light is malfunctioning. Maybe I should take a different route to the hospital. It wouldn't do any good if we got into an accident too."

"No," Isabel said quickly. "It's fine."

"But—"

" Please, Grandma, go on," Isabel said, throwing a don't you dare look at the back seat. " It won't happen again."

It hadn't better, Dee thought darkly as Michael sulked in the back seat. Mr. Showboat had almost caused another traffic accident, very likely more than one. Concern for Max didn't justify putting several more people in the hospital or worse. Easy for you to say, she chided herself as she slipped past the now open intersection. She already knew Max was capable of healing himself and that his Warder was on the way.

"I wouldn't worry about your brother," she said gently to Isabel. "I'm sure they're looking out for him.'

"That exactly what I'm afraid of," Isabel said miserably, one hand to her forehead. "If he's unconscious, he can't defend himself. And with what's been happening—"

"He'll be okay," Michael broke in sharply. "We'll see to it. We'll deal with whatever happens. Whatever it takes."

Isabel flushed and fell silent, glancing nervously at Dee to see if she'd heard anything she shouldn't have. Which she had, of course, and understood completely even though she couldn't say that. "We're here," Dee said, spying the hospital entrance up ahead. "I'll drop you off at the door to Emergency and come in after I park the car." My, but this looks familiar, she added silently as she turned into the hospital's Emergency entrance. Was it really only ten years ago that she'd been here with a tiny Max and Isabel? Michael had never been to the hospital, thank God; he'd only had to dodge the doctor in the orphanage. But having to doge the doctors in the hospital had taught them all just exactly what could expose the children and what couldn't, and she mentally ticked down the list after parking the car in the nearest spot she could find and hurrying inside.

"Where is he?" she asked, finding Isabel and Michael waiting impatiently at the desk.

"They won't tell us!" Isabel exclaimed, almost in tears.

"They say we're under age," Michael fumed.

"Excuse me?" Dee said briskly to the nurse at the desk. "I'm Max Evans' grandmother. I understand he was brought here after a motor vehicle accident?"

"Yes, ma'am," the nurse answered promptly. "He's unconscious, but stable. No obvious injuries, so we're hopeful. We reached his mother, a...."

"Diane."

"Yes, Diane Evans. She's on her way, but it'll be a while before she's here. You can go back to see him if you like, but the children will have to stay out here."

"This is Max's sister and....brother," Dee lied as Michael shot her a grateful look. "And they're hardly children. I don't see why they can't go back."

The nurse hesitated. "Look, they're terribly upset," Dee confided, lowering her voice, "and their parents aren't here. I'm all they've got. I really don't think separating us right now is a good idea. They'll behave themselves, I promise."

The nurse hesitated a moment more before reluctantly nodding. "All right, but just for a few minutes. Second door on the right. He's way down on the left side."

"Thank you," Dee said gratefully, taking Isabel and Michael by the arm and steering them past the desk before the nurse changed her mind.

"Are you sure it was smart to promise I'd behave?" Michael asked dryly.

"Michael, don't," Isabel said sharply.

"A little humor never hurts," Dee said. "And if you don't behave, I'll slap you upside the head," she added casually to Michael, who smiled faintly. "Second door, she said....there's the first, and....."

Dee stopped. She'd been looking down the hallway for door number two when, purely by chance, she'd spied a man in a suit and tie ducking into what looked like a storage room after carefully glancing around to see if anyone was watching. "There's the second door," she told Michael and Isabel. "You go on in. I'll be along in a few minutes."

"Where are you going?" Michael asked.

Dee smiled innocently. "To misbehave."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 24 next Sunday .

Hello to everyone reading!






CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



November 29, 1999, 11:30 a.m.

Roswell Memorial Hospital




Agent Moss pulled into a parking space only seconds before Agent Butler, both climbing out at the same time. "I gather she called you too?" Butler said.

"She called me first," Moss smiled.

"Didn't know this was a competition," Butler said dryly as he fell in step beside Moss. "So what do suppose it is this time? Maybe Science Girl failed a pop quiz and fainted from shock?"

"Topolsky said it was a car accident," Moss noted.

"Yeah, well, as long as I'm not chasing lost diaries," Butler said. "I'd like something real, if you don't mind."

"Marathon was real," Moss said.

"In the sense that the kids really went there," Butler allowed. "But that's it."

"What about your tire?"

"What about it? Could've been anything."

"Like an alien?"

"Like a nail," Butler said. "Or a piece of glass. It was a convenience store parking lot."

"So you're a skeptic," Moss said.

"I'm skeptical of doing the bidding of pretty little blondes," Butler groused. "You and I both know that if Stevens thought there was anything real here, he wouldn't have put a Barbie doll in charge.

"Cut her a break," Moss said. "She's trying."

Butler chuckled softly. "Does this mean you're doing the boss?"

Moss stopped. "Watch it, buddy."

"Dude," Butler said, holding up both hands in a gesture of submission. "Don't get all bent out of shape. Just a joke. God knows she's doable. Might be all she's good for, but—"

"Shut it," Moss said firmly.

"Yes, sir," Butler said with mock resignation.

Cretin, Moss thought darkly as they entered the ED. It was bad enough that Kathleen had to fight off the Valenti's of the world, but she also had to fight her own Unit, people who were supposed to have her back. Granted, he'd kind of felt like Butler when this had all started, but now....

"Separate rooms," Moss said when they hit a hallway. "Meet you behind the counter."

"Right," Butler answered, veering away.

It only took a moment for Moss to locate a door marked "Employees Only" and slip inside. Five minutes later he was appropriately attired in scrubs, a passable ID badge clipped to the waist of the pants. Unit agents on assignment were always issued ID badges bearing the names of local hospitals just in case this type of reconnaissance was necessary. He met up with the similarly attired Butler behind Emergency's busy main counter and perused the board where all the current cases were listed.

"Evans, Max," Butler murmured. "MVA. No Parker. She must have been treated and released.

"Blood work and a CT scan," Moss said, reading further down the board. "You get the scan results. I'll get the blood."

Butler disappeared, sporting a somewhat different attitude now that he knew this was something "real". Moss approached Max's room just in time to see a nurse exiting with a tray of blood samples. Excellent, he thought, keeping a ways behind her. Just follow her down to her lab, wait until she stepped out, and…

"Excuse me, but could you help me?"

Moss blinked. A woman had stepped smack in front of him, an older woman in sensible older woman slacks and sensible older woman shoes with a sensible older woman kerchief tied tightly under her chin. "I need some help," the woman repeated earnestly. "I can't seem to find 'Carlson Four'. Do you know where that is?"

"I would imagine it's the fourth floor of the Carlson wing," Moss answered, stepping around her.

But she side-stepped with him. " 'Imagine'?" she repeated. "You 'imagine'? Don't you know? Don't you work here?"

"Of course," Moss answered. "Which is why I'm busy. Try the information desk."

"I did," the woman answered in frustration. "And the woman there looked about twelve years old and gave me a laundry list of directions in Arabic. I just—"

"Look, lady, I'm sorry, but I'm busy," Moss said brusquely. "Try a different information desk. Or try a nurse. Or try a map. You can read, can't you?"

Wrong move. Moss sighed inwardly as the woman's eyes narrowed and her lips set in a thin line the way his mother's did when she got pissed. "Don't you take that tone with me!" she snapped. "What does it take to get some help around here? Did everyone in this hospital take rude pills this morning? Let me see that," she added, snatching at his ID badge. "I have a good mind to file an official complaint on each and every so-called 'employee' who's treated me badly, and I may as well start with you."

Moss backed hastily away, covering the badge with his hand. "What's wrong?" the woman demanded. "Trying to hide your name, are you? Well, you won't get away with that. I'll find out who you are. Miss!" she added to a nurse sailing by. "Miss! Someone! Someone tell me who this rude man is so I can file a complaint!"

"Pipe down!" Moss hissed. "Jesus, you're going to cause a ruckus."

"You're damned right I'll cause a ruckus!" the woman exclaimed. "I'll tear this building down brick by brick until I find someone willing to show an old woman how to find her sick husband!"

"Is there a problem here?" a nurse asked.

Moss stared in dismay at the growing crowd of curious employees and visitors. If this old bag actually carried through with her threat, he was in trouble. This badge was only good enough for casual scrutiny; it would never pass harsh muster. And if word got out the FBI was here.....

"No problem," Moss said calmly. "This lady is looking for directions. I'll be happy to help her out."

"And you'll take me there?" the woman demanded. "No launching me down some endless hallway all by myself and hoping I never find my way back? Because that's what the twelve year-old did."

" 'Twelve year-old'?" the nurse asked quizzically.

"Long story," Moss muttered. Obviously he was going to have to find "Carlson Four" and fast, or grandma was going to make life very difficult. "Come along, ma'am. I'll take you where you're going."

"Finally," the woman huffed, shuffling along after him. "Honestly, you just can't get good help these days."




******************************************************




"Thank you, young man," Dee smiled as the elevator door opened to reveal a sign which declared this to be "Carlson Four". "I'll be forever grateful."

"No problem," the fake medic answered. "The front desk is right there. Just ask which room your husband is in. I hope he's okay."

"Such a dear, kind boy," Dee cooed. "You do your mother proud."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said so when I see her. Goodbye, and good luck."

Not bad, Dee thought as what she was certain was an FBI agent disappeared back into the elevator; she'd actually had to look hard to see his gritted teeth behind that supposedly sincere smile. She waited until the elevator door had closed before moving down the hallway much faster than she'd moved on the way here, pulling off the head scarf and sunglasses she'd used to disguise her appearance as she passed through two different wings until she reached the south elevator, all that training coming in handy at last. Brivari had insisted she and Anthony memorize the layout of the hospital should the hybrids ever wind up here, something which had proven quite challenging as the years had passed and additions had been built. But it was working beautifully now, allowing her to lead that agent—or ostensibly let him lead her—clear over to the other side of the hospital. Unbeknownst to him, the elevator they'd taken to the fourth floor of the relatively new Carlson wing did not connect to the lower level where the CT and hematology labs were housed, which appeared to be where he'd been headed when she'd intercepted him. If he took the elevator back to the first floor of Carlson, he'd have to wend his way back through a complex maze of wings in order to find an elevator that would take him in the right direction. With any luck, he'd get lost on the way, and they'd have a few more precious minutes to acquire the one and only thing they knew of that could identify Max—his blood.

The elevator door opened, and Dee stepped into the lower level hallway. The last time she'd been down here they'd been using a barely installed CT scanner on the barely emerged hybrids. The CT suite was even larger now and quite busy, and she walked right by it. Hematology was comprised of several rooms in a less snazzy part of the level and she peered into windows one by one, wondering which was which. No one was visible inside, and it was impossible to tell which one Max's blood had been taken to, so she took up a position within sight of the nearest elevator and waited. Sooner or later, the agent would find his way here. The minutes ticked by, five, ten, and she began to fret. Maybe she should go back upstairs and see what was going on?

"May I presume you're here for the same reason I am?"

Dee's heart nearly stopped. "Don't scare me like that!" she admonished Brivari. "An agent is here, and I think he's after Max's blood. I was—"

"I know," Brivari broke in. "About the blood and the agent, that is. 'Agents' plural, actually; the second one is lurking in the CT area, no doubt nicking copies of Zan's CT scan. Which will show nothing, of course."

"Does that mean he's okay?" Dee asked worriedly. "I didn't have time to check; I saw a man acting suspiciously, and he looked like he was following the nurse who had the blood—"

"He's fine," Brivari broke in. "I settled that as soon as I arrived. It was nothing more than a bump on the head, perhaps a mild 'concussion', as they call it. Nothing his natural healing abilities can't handle."

"Thank God," Dee said with relief. "All these years we worried about something like this happening, and it finally--oh my God!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Liz! Is she all right? Gracious, I never even thought to check."

"Of course you didn't. She's not the one in danger."

"She was in the accident too, wasn't she?" Dee retorted. "And—"

"Calm down," Brivari interrupted. "I was just stating a fact. She had only minor bruises; she wasn't even admitted. It appears Zan got the worst of it, probably because he was driving."

"Well, thank goodness neither of them were hurt," Dee said. "You got the blood, right?"

"No."

" 'No'? What do you mean, 'no'? That could identify him!"

"Believe it or not, I'm aware of that," Brivari said dryly. "The interesting part is that I'm not the only one who is."

As if on cue, the elevator door down the hall opened, and the agent Dee had waylaid stepped out. He peered into windows just as Dee had, but apparently had more information; it took him only seconds to select one of the rooms and go inside. "I know we're not the only ones aware of that!" Dee hissed. "He's aware of that! Which is why we can't let him get the blood!"

"And I won't."

"Then why are you just standing here?" Dee demanded. "Are you planning to jump him when he comes out?"

"I'm planning to see what happens," Brivari answered. "This is getting more interesting by the minute."

Dee blinked. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. If we don't—"

She stopped. The nurse who had drawn Max's blood had rounded a corner, pulling up short after entering the lab the agent had chosen, her voice floating out into the hallway.

"What are you doing here, medic?"

If the agent answered, Dee didn't hear him. He left in a hurry, disappearing down the hall and around the corner, no doubt waiting for another chance. "Is that what you meant?" Dee asked. "Big deal! He'll be back."

"I doubt it will help," Brivari said. "Rath is in there."

"What....Michael? Michael is in....where?"

"In the lab the agent just left."

Voices came from the open lab door, a male voice, followed by a female voice. "He.....you mean....that's him?" Dee said incredulously. "Does this mean....."

"They know," Brivari nodded, "or at least suspect that blood will give them away."

"But....if they take the blood sample, they'll just draw more," Dee said. "I don't see how—"

"Ah, but they thought of that," Brivari said with obvious satisfaction. "Shhhh!" he added when she started a barrage of questions. "Here she comes."

"She" turned out to be none other than Liz Parker, creeping out of the stairwell with a bandaged arm and an expression which made it all too clear that she knew perfectly well she was dealing with a life or death situation. Michael's voice floated into the hallway again, drawing Liz toward it, and a hand appeared in the doorway. Liz walked by, slowing only briefly to place a vial of blood she'd withdrawn from her pocket into the outstretched hand, continuing on down the hallway and entering the elevator like nothing had happened. Michael followed just a few minutes later, both hands in his pockets and a satisfied look on his face. The elevator door had barely slid shut when Moss appeared far down the hallway, scowling briefly before retreating.

"They switched it," Dee said faintly. "But with what?"

"The Parker girl called in a friend of hers, another male," Brivari replied. "I saw her and Vilandra doing a blood draw, much to his dismay."

"So....does that mean this friend knows what they are?"

"I have no idea," Brivari answered, "although I intend to find out. What interests me is the speed and precision with which my Wards met this threat. I'm impressed....and I'm not easily impressed."

"Why are you impressed now?" Dee said irritably. "You've done nothing but complain that they're reckless and immature."

"Because they have been," Brivari said. "Using their powers in public was reckless. Breaking into the sheriff's office was foolish. Leading the FBI to Atherton's was downright stupid. But this....this was an accident, something out of their control, and they organized quickly to identify and neutralize the threat. Like I said, I'm impressed."

"With everyone but Max," Dee muttered.

"No, even with Zan. You were right—he chose loyal allies, allies which recruited other allies. That trait, at least, has survived intact."

"Well, hallelujah, you're finally impressed," Dee said dryly. "Must be a cold day somewhere. Are you sure everything's okay, or should we go check?"

"Rath would never have left that room if his king was still in danger," Brivari said confidently. "And the agent would not have withdrawn if he thought he still had a chance to get what he wanted."

"Then I want to see my grandson," Dee said briskly. "And Diane. She'll be here soon, and she'll be in a tizzy."

"No doubt," Brivari agreed. "But she'll just have to stay that way. That little field trip with the agent? That was dangerous. You knew I was here, so there was no need—"

"Like hell there wasn't," Dee interrupted firmly. "No one messes with my grandson any more than anyone messes with your king. Besides, I'm not stupid. I disguised myself."

Brivari smiled faintly. "I stand corrected. But all the same, it would be best if the agent you waylaid never had the chance to put two and two together. Catch up with your daughter-in-law later."





*****************************************************




"Well.....I'm off to sign a mountain of forms," Diane said, squeezing Max's hand. "The nurse left your clothes; I'll get your wallet and anything else you had in your pockets from the cashier. You wait right here for me until I tell you I'm pulling the car around. Grandma left me a message that she had to leave, but she'll stop by later. And what about you two?" she added to Liz and Maria. "Do you have a ride?"

"I came in my mom's car," Maria said. "I'll take Liz home. And Michael."

"I'm staying with Max," Michael said firmly.

"Then I'll take Michael home after we get Max all settled," Isabel said.

Diane's face clouded. "But if Michael already has a ride, there's no need for him to come with us—"

"It's okay, Mom," Isabel said quickly as Michael's expression darkened. "He wants to stay with Max. I don't mind."

Diane hesitated. "All right, then," she said finally, looking less than pleased. "Max, honey, why don't you get dressed. Take your time. I'm sure I'll be awhile."

"She hates me," Michael announced after Diane had left.

"No, she doesn't 'hate you'," Isabel said. "She's just being protective because Max got hurt."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's her excuse every other time she doesn't want me around?"

"Not now, Michael," Isabel sighed. "Max, you have to get dressed."

An awkward silence followed as everyone eyed each other and the pile of clothes sitting on the end of the bed. "Why don't we step out?" Liz suggested, pulling Maria with her. "We'll be in the waiting room."

"Wait," Max said.

Liz turned around. "Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" Max asked softly.

"I just got a little banged up," Liz said. "You're the one we were worried about. In more ways than one."

"But you've got a bandage—"

"So she scraped her arm," Isabel interrupted impatiently. "She's fine. We need to get you out of here as fast as we possibly can before they decide to do something else that could get us all killed."

"Right," Liz said quickly. "We're going."

They left in a hurry, with Maria throwing a dark glance Isabel's way. "That was uncalled for, Iz," Max said just as soon as they were out of earshot. "She got hurt too."

"Not the way you did!" Isabel exclaimed. "And her very existence wasn't hanging in the balance like yours was! What on earth were you doing joyriding in the jeep during school, anyway? What were you—"

"Isabel?" Michael interrupted.

Isabel flushed. "Right. Let's get you home, and then I can ream you. C'mon, sit up. Here's your shirt. Well?" she added when Max didn't move. "Are you planning to go home in that fashion statement of a hospital gown?"

"I'm guessing he was planning on getting dressed by himself instead of having his sister do it," Michael suggested.

"I'm not trying to 'dress him'," Isabel objected. "I'm just trying to move this along—"

"Isabel?" Michael broke in again. "Out."

Isabel tossed the shirt on the bed. "Fine," she said tightly. "Have it your way."

She stalked out, and Michael pulled the curtain all the way closed behind her. "You do have a way with people," Max commented dryly.

"Yeah, it's a gift," Michael said. "But she's right; the sooner we're out of here, the better. We may have been followed."

Max's eyes widened. "Followed? By whom?"

"I'm not sure. When I went to get the blood sample, there was some guy in the lab looking through the vials. He left in a big hurry when the nurse came back."

"Could have been anyone," Max said.

"Maybe," Michael allowed. "Or it could have been someone."

"Let's not go looking for trouble, Michael. It seems to find us all on its own." Max paused, wincing as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Michael asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I just....I'm really stiff. And sore."

"Like you got banged around a jeep?"

Max smiled faintly. "Something like that." He swung one leg over the edge of the bed and waited a surprisingly long time before swinging the other beside it. "Okay, that was....harder than I expected."

"So the 'no headaches, no dizziness' was a fib?"

"A small one. Just hand me my shirt."

Michael handed him the shirt and watched as Max slowly undid the top of the hospital gown and slipped his shirt on. Underwear and pants proved harder; he had to stand up briefly to get those on, and the speed with which he sat down again was not encouraging. "Let me get those," Michael said when Max reached for his socks. "I don't want you bending over."

Max looked away as Michael pulled on one sock, then the other. "Maybe we should have kept Isabel here," Max said.

"Nah, you don't want your sister doing this. Up," Michael ordered, brandishing a sneaker, working it onto Max's foot. "I haven't done this in a while," he added, fumbling with the laces. "I usually just tie'em and forget'em. Okay....there's the other one. Put your feet down and try to stand up."

Max swung his feet to the ground, hesitated a moment, pushed himself to his feet....then sat down. "I'm good," he insisted, holding Michael off with one hand. "I just need to sit for a minute."

"Okay," Michael agreed, pulling up a chair. "Let's sit." He hooked one arm over the chair, tapped his fingers on the back. "So what do you remember? Do you remember the accident?"

"I remember driving along," Max said, rubbing one eye. "And the song on the radio. And Liz....God, she was pretty, with the wind in her hair, and...." He stopped as Michael raised an eyebrow. "And of course you don't want to hear about that. I remember the horse, and then.....and then I woke up here. And I didn't know where I was. I saw the white ceiling, and at first I thought....." He paused, looking away.

"I know what you thought," Michael said quietly. "Then what?"

"There were all these people around, and I drifted in and out. One of them was a man who told me I'd be all right. Nobody else talked to me."

Michael frowned. "A man? You mean a doctor?"

Max shrugged. "I don't know. I never saw him again."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Why not? He didn't do anything to me. He just said I'd be okay."

"Like that guy who appeared out of nowhere when those jocks beat you up? The one who said he was trying to help you, and then disappeared?"

"This one didn't say he was trying to help me," Max said. "He just said I'd be okay. The hospital is probably full of people who say things like that." He paused. "So what'd you do with the—"

"Shhhh," Michael held a finger to his lips. "Not out loud. It's gone. Disintegrated. My 'fine motor skills' may not be the best, but I'm good at disintegrating."

"And Alex?"

"Is pissed at Liz because she told him this was all about drugs."

"Well," Max said slowly, "I guess that's better than telling him the truth."

"Of course it's better than telling him the truth. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Liz and Alex are good friends, Michael. I'd hate to destroy that."

"And I'd hate for Liz and Alex being good friends to destroy any of us. He served his purpose. Case closed."

Max shook his head. "You can be a real bastard sometimes, you know that?"

Footsteps sounded outside the curtain. "Knock, knock?" came Diane's voice. "Max, honey, are you decent?"

"Yeah. Come on in, Mom," Max called.

Diane poked her head around the curtain, her smile fading slightly when she saw Michael. "I'm going to pull the car around. I'll be out by the main doors. Should I get you a wheelchair—"

"No need," Michael said. "I've got him."

Diane frowned. "But if he wants a chair—"

"I'll be fine, Ma," Max said. "Go get the car."

Diane gave Michael one last look before retreating. "Don't start," Max warned. "She doesn't hate you."

"Yeah, well she's not exactly a fan, either, is she?" Michael said. "Try standing up again."

Max lowered both feet to the floor and leaned against the bed for a moment before standing up all the way. "No dizziness," he reported. "Let's go."

"You wanna lean on me?"

"No. But....stick close. Just in case."

They walked slowly out into the waiting room, where all three girls descended. "You okay?" Maria asked uncertainly.

"I was so scared," Liz added.

"I'm okay," Max assured them.

"Let's go," Isabel said briskly. "Mom's waiting in the car."

"Oh—my keys are in my purse on the table in Max's room," Maria said suddenly. "We were in the middle of a crisis, remember?" she added when Michael gave her an annoyed look.

"I'll go get it," Michael said. "Get him to the car."

Get him the hell out of here, he added as he made his back into the room where Max had been. He wasn't going to start breathing again until every single one of them was out of this hospital. The curtain was still drawn around Max's bed, and he could see shapes inside, two shapes. Suddenly suspicious, he gave the curtain a sharp pull.

Two men in scrubs looked up in surprise, one of them disturbingly familiar. One was rifling through the garbage, the other through Max's chart, and Michael looked at both deliberately, memorizing their faces, their builds, their approximate height.....

"Forgot her purse," he said when he was done, fetching Maria's purse from the table.

Every nerve in Michael's body was jangling as he walked out of that room, so much so that he stopped and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. It wasn't his imagination. Max wanted to think that, but it wasn't. What kind of medic, or nurse, or orderly examined the garbage? The chart, maybe, but not the garbage. And why would there be two of them huddled in there right after they left? Michael hadn't spent much time in hospitals, but he was willing to bet this wasn't standard discharge procedure.

"You okay?"

It was another man in scrubs, looking no different than the two in there except that he wasn't going through the garbage. "Yeah. No. I don't know," Michael amended, his heart still racing. "I'm just.....trying to decide whether what I'm seeing is what I think I'm seeing."

"Does whatever you're seeing look like what you think it is?" the man asked.

"Oh, yeah," Michael muttered. "It sure does."

"Then it probably is." The man glanced toward Max's room. "Trust your instincts. They rarely led you wrong."

Michael blinked as the man walked away. What on earth had that been about? Doesn't matter, he thought, beating a hasty retreat before Fric 'n Frac in there decided they were done.

He was all the way out to the parking lot before he realized that the man in the hallway had inexplicably used the past tense.




******************************************************




5:30 p.m.



Normal.


Kathleen Topolsky gripped the steering wheel harder as the implications of what Agent Moss had just told her sank in. There was a blood test; it came back normal. She'd been on pins and needles all day waiting for just this moment, the moment when she'd be vindicated, when her critics would be silenced once and for all. The word from the hospital was encouraging; Max Evans had been hurt badly enough to warrant tests, but not badly enough to harm him permanently. Surely at least one of those tests would be what she needed to save herself from a babbling sheriff, whenever he decided to babble.

Normal. How could it have been normal? There was good evidence that Evans had done something to Liz Parker, something no human should be able to do. There must be some evidence of that "otherness" in his body. Maybe it didn't show up in the blood? Maybe it showed up somewhere else? She was just about to ask about any other tests that had been run when she finally processed Moss's last sentence: I think something might've happened.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, there were five of them," Moss answered. "And they kept coming in and out of his room a lot."

"Doing what?"

"I'm not sure. But they brought another one in. Tall kid, kind of wiry."

Topolsky relaxed as the reason for the anomaly suddenly became clear. "Alex," she said with certainty.

"I think they switched blood samples," Moss said.

"I know they did," Topolsky said. "I'll work that angle. What about other tests? CT scans, EKG's, whatever?"

"They did a CT scan, and Butler managed to copy the results. Nothing strange there, and none of them went near that lab."

"Interesting," Topolsky murmured. "But they switched the blood, so that's where we'll find it. And they know that." She paused. "What I'd like to know is why you or Butler weren't on the scene when they crashed."

"What?"

"Where were you, Agent Moss? You and Agent Butler are supposed to be tailing those kids. How did they manage to leave school with neither of you the wiser?"

"There are only two of us, Kathleen," Moss answered. "We can't cover every exit—"

"They were in Evans' jeep," Topolsky interrupted. "One of you should have been watching the jeep, and then you could have tailed them. You would have been on the scene when the accident happened, and you could have gotten a blood sample without lurking around the hospital all day only to have a bunch of kids outwit you."

"You mean the way they outwitted you in Marathon?"

"That was Valenti," Topolsky said sharply. "If Valenti hadn't intervened, I would have had them."

"Why does this sound like one of those fish stories about the one that got away?"

"Don't let a lapse like that happen again, agent," Topolsky warned. "Wherever those kids go, I want to know about it. Whatever those kids are doing now, I want to know about it. Understood?"

Moss regarded her levelly for a moment. "Understood."

"Good. We don't get many chances, so we can't afford to waste them. Go find out what they're doing. I expect a call within the hour."

Topolsky rolled up her window and drove off without waiting for an answer. Maybe that's what she should have been doing all along—talking to her agents the way Stevens talked to her. They'd been so close today. Something big was about to happen. She could just feel it.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 25 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!




CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


November 30, 1999, 7 a.m.

Evans residence



Diane's mouth dropped open when the front door opened as she was walking past with her morning coffee. "Mom? What's this?"

"Groceries," Dee said briskly, her arms laden with bags. "You never got around to it yesterday because of Max's accident, so I found your list and went shopping."

"My goodness, you didn't have to do that!" Diane exclaimed. "At this hour? And you're such a night owl."

"Oh, I did the shopping late last night," Dee said, walking past her toward the kitchen. "Great time to shop; no one's there, and you can park right next to the door. Good morning, dear," she added to Max, who had just appeared. "How are you feeling? And how many times has someone asked you that since you came home yesterday?"

Max smiled faintly. "Lots. I'm good, Grandma. Want some help with those?"

"No way," Diane declared. "I'm not even happy about you going to school today, never mind lugging groceries. I'll help Grandma; you get some breakfast."

Max wisely chose not to argue, and Dee waited until she and Diane were outside before pursuing the real reason for her presence here. "How is he?" she asked Diane has they both scooped up more bags. "I mean, how is he really?"

"He seems just fine," Diane admitted. "Didn't act even one little bit different last night. Of course we barked at him whenever he walked across the room, never mind did anything else. I wasn't thrilled about him going to school today, but frankly, there didn't seem to be a reason to keep him home. Or that's what Philip thought before he left this morning. By the way," she added as they lugged bags up the front walk, "I never thanked you for bringing Isabel to the hospital."

"As it happened, I was close by, so it was no problem to bring Isabel and Michael to the hospital," Dee answered, with a slight emphasis on "Michael".

Diane followed her into the kitchen, where Max was eating a bowl of cereal. "I know Michael was worried about him too," Diane said after they'd gone back outside. "But honestly, was it smart to bring him to the hospital with Isabel, Mom? He's not family. They get antsy enough with family members around, never mind friends."

"Liz was there," Dee pointed out.

"Of course she was there; she was in the accident."

"Liz's friend, Maria, was there. And so was Alex."

"Who?"

"From school," Dee explained. "My point is that Michael wasn't the only friend there. If you're going to object to his being there, you'll either have to object to every other friend who was there or just admit that you've got it in for Michael."

Diane sighed heavily as she pulled the last of the bags out of the trunk. "I do not 'have it in' for Michael. I just....."

"Don't like him," Dee finished, closing the trunk lid with her elbow.

"I didn't say that," Diane protested.

"You didn't have to," Dee answered. "And you're certainly free to like or dislike anyone you choose. My objection is to holding things against him that he did as a troubled child, things he doesn't even remember doing."

"I'm not!" Diane protested. I just...."

She stopped, that sentence hanging in the air as they deposited the last of the groceries on the kitchen counter and looked around. Max was gone, having finished his breakfast; they were alone.

"Okay, I admit it," Diane sighed. "I don't like him."

"Really?" Dee said dryly. "I hadn't noticed."

"But it's not because I'm holding things against him; I just don't like him," Diane insisted. "He's rude, and abrupt, and he's failing half the time, no big surprise because he skips school constantly, and.....I just don't think he's a good influence on my children."

"And yet your children aren't rude, or abrupt, or failing, or truant," Dee pointed out. "You know his situation, Diane. Has it not occurred to you that your kids represent the only real stability he has?"

"Then it doesn't appear to be doing him much good," Diane argued. "Is this really about me holding things against him, or is it about you holding things against me?"

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that we wouldn't adopt Michael along with Max and Isabel."

"Nonsense," Dee scoffed. "I'm glad you didn't adopt him. You didn't want to, and all you need do is look at where he's at now to see what happens when a child lives where he's not wanted."

"I'm going to lose this one, aren't I?" Diane muttered.

"You started it," Dee reminded her. "There was no way I was going to bring Isabel to the hospital and leave Michael standing there on the sidewalk. You have yet to object to other friends being there, and until you do, it still looks like it's all about Michael."

"Well, maybe it is 'all about Michael'," Diane said. "I don't like the way he acts like he's family when he's not, and it's unnerving to see my kids treat him like family anyway. It's weird the way they glued themselves together back when they were found, and then later after they hadn't seen each other for years. Maybe I'm fighting a losing battle."

"So you admit you're fighting a battle?" Dee said mildly as she pulled milk cartons out of a bag.

"Good grief, you're just like Philip!" Diane said in exasperation. "He'll argue till he drops, and he has to be right."

"I think it's the other way around," Dee chuckled. "Philip is like me."

"Whatever; it's enough to give me high blood pressure. I'll get that," Diane added gratefully when the phone rang. "Hello? Yes....yes!" she exclaimed, slipping into the other room. "Thank you so much for calling me back so quickly. I'd deeply appreciate it if she could....."

"Hey, Grandma. What's all this?"

The conversation faded as Diane glanced back toward the kitchen where Isabel had just appeared and moved further away. "Groceries," Dee said brightly. "Your mother never got to it yesterday, so I did it for her. Guess I figured she'd be home with Max today, but I hear he's going to school."

"Yeah, he's fine," Isabel said. "I think he wants to get out of here and away from Mom."

"Good point," Dee said. "How about I stop by at lunchtime and see how he's doing?"

"No," Isabel said quickly. "We...have a lot of tests today. That's why he wanted to go in. He didn't want to miss them."

"All right, then," Dee said casually. "Another time, perhaps. Are you having breakfast?"

Isabel held up an apple and smiled before crunching a big bite out of it. As she walked out of the room, Diane's voice drifted faintly from the other room.

".....so grateful....doctor. I'll.....records....."

Doctor? Dee thought, all her alarms going off. Records? She moved to the doorway, where Diane looked at her questioningly. "Is everything all right?" Dee asked bluntly. "I heard something about talking to a doctor? Was that about Max?"

"I was just trying to get some peace of mind," Diane said evasively. "I'll let you know how it turns out. What?" she said into the phone. "Now? That's wonderful! Yes, I'll hold."

Diane put her hand over the mouthpiece. "I have to take this, Mom. Thanks for the groceries, and the taxi service yesterday. For both passengers. I may not like Michael, but Max was glad to have him there. I'll see you later."

Dee blinked as the kitchen door closed in her face, followed a few seconds later by a muffled voice too faint to decipher. There was no good way to eavesdrop, and she had somewhere to be, so she made her way out to the car, nearly colliding with Max and Isabel in the driveway. "You're sure I can't stop by at lunchtime?" she asked, standing beside the jeep. "I could—"

"No," Max said quickly. "I've....got a date."

"A date? In the middle of the day?"

"Liz and I were just going for ice cream," Max said as Isabel looked away. "Just to do something normal after yesterday. And don't worry; we'll be on foot."

"Well, you have a good time then," Dee said. "Stay away from horses."

"I'll try," Max smiled. "'Bye, Grandma."

Now what? Dee thought irritably, climbing into her own car and fishing out her phone. Three people had just lied to her, and it was damned annoying. "What are they up to now?" Brivari's deeply skeptical voice asked after she'd pushed his speed dial number.

"I don't know," Dee admitted, "but they're up to something. I offered to come by the school at lunchtime, and they're both very eager that I not do that. Isabel made up some story about tests, and Max claims he has a date with Liz. Something about ice cream."

"Then I shall make a point of being at the school at lunchtime. Anything else?"

Dee hesitated. "Not yet."

"Not 'yet'? What does that mean?"

"It means 'not yet'," Dee said crossly. "What about you? Do you have anything else?"

"Not yet. I'll talk to you later."

The line went dead. Dee tossed her phone in the cup holder with a sigh and pulled out of Diane's driveway. Who on earth had Diane been talking to? If she was talking to some other doctor or having Max's records transferred, that just expanded the possibilities for exposure. Wouldn't it be ironic if Diane's prescription for "additional peace of mind" turned out to produce just the opposite. Maybe if she called at lunchtime, she'd have better luck dragging whatever it was out of her. Otherwise she'd have to wait for Philip to do it, which would be tonight at the earliest, which would give Diane a whole day to create a catastrophe. Great. Just great.

Her phone rang, and Dee picked it up absentmindedly. "Hello?"

"Is this Deanna Evans?" an unfamiliar voice said.

"Yes," Dee said warily. "Who is this?"

"This is Marie Johnson. You know…." There was a pause, and then the voice added in a whisper, "….Yvonne White? Do you remember me?"

"I....of course I remember you!" Dee exclaimed, flabbergasted. "My goodness, I haven't heard from you in ages!"

"I know. But Diane just called me and said she wanted me to take a look at Max's hospital records because he'd been in some kind of accident. Dee....what's going on?"




******************************************************




West Roswell High School





"You're not going," Max said firmly.

"Maxwell, there is no way in hell I'm going to sit this one out," Michael declared. "I sat the last one out while you and Liz traipsed off on my vision quest. Not this time. No way."

"You're not going, and that's final," Max insisted.

"No, it's not final," Michael countered. "What's final is that I'm not sitting around this time with gabbing girls in a diner."

"Gee, thanks, Michael," Isabel said sourly. "So sorry I was such bad company. God knows that entertaining you is the only reason I get up in the morning."

"See, this is why you're not going," Max said. "Because you don't know how to sit still, and this calls for lots of sitting still."

"I want to do something, Max!" Michael exclaimed.

"You did something yesterday," Max reminded him. "You switched the blood samples. You saved my life."

"Him and Alex."

Liz Parker swallowed hard as every head turned toward her. "Well....he did," Liz said. "There wouldn't have been anything to switch if it weren't for Alex."

"Or if I hadn't drawn the blood in the first place," Isabel noted.

"Look, everyone helped," Max said. "I have all of you to thank, Alex included. But that has nothing to do with today's plan. Liz and I will go out at lunch time and see if anyone follows us; if they do, we'll lose him, and then tail him ourselves in Maria's car."

"And what do I do?" Michael said in frustration. "Where do I fit into this?"

"You stay at school and cover for us," Max said.

"While you and Liz go off," Michael huffed. "Again."

"He has a point, Max," Isabel said. "You left us behind the last time."

"And you know why. River Dog was expecting Liz. Eddie almost didn't take me to the cave—"

"We heard," Isabel interrupted. "But this isn't about the cave. Why not...."

Isabel's suggestion was drowned out by Michael's anger and Max's effort to squelch both. Liz looked back and forth from one to the other as the argument grew more and more heated, opened her mouth to say something....and felt a hand clamp over it.

"Don't," Maria whispered in her ear, pulling her a ways back from the fray. "This is their argument. Let them have it."

"But this is my fault, Maria," Liz whispered. "It's always my fault. I got shot. I went to the reservation. I went cruising with Max yesterday. If we hadn't gone, he wouldn't have wound up in the hospital."

"Are you serious?" Maria demanded. "Okay, reality check: You never asked to be shot, did you? Did you raise your hand, and jump up and down, and say, 'If you're gonna shoot somebody, please, please let it be me'? No, you did not. You went to the reservation because no one was following you and you were trying to help. And you did. Help, that is. They know way more now than they did before. And correct me if I'm wrong, girlfriend, but didn't Max invite you joyriding yesterday? Wasn't that his idea? And it was no one's idea to have a horse run in front of the jeep. How is that your fault?"

"Okay, but it just seems like whenever something bad happens, I'm in the middle of it," Liz said. "Guys? Guys!" she called over Maria's objections, producing a temporary cease fire. "I have an idea."

"Another 'idea'?" Isabel said acidly.

"Yes, Queen Amidala, an idea," Maria said dryly. "You liked her last one, remember?"

"Please," Liz said placatingly, "I'm just trying to help—"

"We don't need any 'help' this time," Michael said.

"Michael," Max warned.

"Forget it, Liz," Maria said stoutly. "If they're going to act like this, they don't deserve to hear it."

Maybe not, Liz thought, her eyes swinging from one frustrated and angry face to another. But deep down she couldn't shake the feeling that she was the cause of this, that everything was just fine until she had upset the apple cart. And besides, no one got rid of her this easily. Not a chance.

"Too bad you don't want to hear it," Liz shrugged. "Because you would have liked it a whole lot more than Max would have."

Max blinked. Michael and Isabel exchanged glances. Maria smiled broadly. "You can all go back to killing each other now," Maria said sweetly. "Unless you want to hear her idea, that is."

There followed an awkward silence. Finally Isabel stepped forward in a way eerily similar to the night of the Crash Festival, lacking only a cone bra to make the picture complete.

"What's your idea?" she asked grudgingly.

"I think Max and I should try to get the guy to follow us," Liz said. "And if he does, we'll lose him....and then Michael and Isabel can follow him and see where he goes."

"Now you're talking!" Michael exclaimed.

"Liz, no," Max said. "They can't—"

"Yes, they can," Liz said firmly. "And you can't. Think about it, Max. They're after you, and there's two of them. You should lead them both as far astray as possible and let others do the tailing. It'll be a lot easier for them to do it because no one else is following them."

"And suppose we get caught," Michael broke in. "Ever thought about that? Better me than you; I've already got a record."

"Wow, I feel better already," Isabel deadpanned.

"And if they get caught, they'll be able to wiggle out of it," Liz added. "You never could."

Max opened his mouth to protest, then took her by the arm and pulled her a ways down the hall. "What are you doing?" he whispered fiercely. "We can't leave this in Michael's hands. He's too impulsive, too—"

"Scared," Liz finished. "He's scared about whoever's after you, and resentful that you keep leaving him out, and like you said, he doesn't wait well. So why keep asking him to? That's the worst thing you could do because he's not good at it. He needs something to do, Max. Give him something to do. He had something to do yesterday, and he was just fine. He's better when he's involved, so involve him." She leaned in closer. "You still haven't told them about the cave drawings, have you? You can't keep leaving them out," she went on when Max looked away. "This is about them too."

Max stared at the floor for a long moment before turning around and going back to the group. "Liz and I will go out at lunchtime," he said as Michael listened, stone-faced. "Hopefully whoever's tailing us will follow, and we'll lose him. And then...." Max glanced at Liz, who nodded encouragingly. "And then you and Isabel will see where he goes. Maybe we can find out where he lives, or where he works."

"Then I'm going with them," Maria declared. "What?" she demanded when Michael gave a snort. "I don't want you driving my car again, buster. I'll loan it to Liz, but not you. You want my car, you get me."

"Then what are you and Liz going to do?" Isabel asked.

"We'll wait a while, then come back to school," Max replied. "If they want to follow me, let them follow me back here. Maybe you'll be able to learn something about them in the meantime." He gestured to Isabel. "C'mon. You shouldn't be late for first period if you're going to be out half the day."

Isabel left with Max, but Michael lingered. "I suppose I have you to thank for this, don't I?" he said to Liz.

"Did you figure that out all by yourself?" Maria asked innocently.

Michael's eyes flicked to Maria, then back to Liz. "Thank you," he said shortly.

"You're welcome," Liz murmured as he walked away.




******************************************************




Proctor residence




Dee tossed her keys on the kitchen table and pulled up Marie's number, sinking into a living room chair as she hit "send". She'd been so flabbergasted when Marie had called that she'd been afraid to try driving and talking at the same time, arguably a bad idea even on a good day, and this wasn't a good day. And I needed time, she admitted privately as the phone on the other end of the line began to ring. She hadn't spoken with Dr. Johnson since 1990, the year after the hybrids were found. Marie had been invaluable in shepherding them through the medical system unscathed, but since then, they hadn't needed her. The children rarely got sick or injured, and the few times they had been, they'd recovered so quickly that even the skittish Diane hadn't had time to take them to a doctor. The past decade had been blessedly free of medical mishaps, so despite the fact that Marie had made it clear they could contact her at any time, they thankfully hadn't had to.

"Hello?" a voice answered.

"I'm returning a call from Dr. Johnson," Dee said.

"Dee!" the voice said in relief. "It's Marie. This is a private line, so we can talk."

"I gathered as much when you used your real name," Dee said. "I know you wouldn't do that unless you felt absolutely safe."

"You know, there was a time after Steven and I went AWOL where I thought the day would come where I'd feel safe," Marie said. "But it never did. You'd think I would after all this time, but somehow, the concept of 'safety' just never took."

"I think we felt the same way about the kids," Dee noted. "All this time, and no contact with the medical system other than yearly check-ups. Although I did sweat every single one of those vaccinations."

"Which is precisely why I kept close watch until they were finished. So what's happened? Diane said Max was in a car accident?"

"Yes, and he was unconscious for a while," Dee answered. "And then he woke up, and he was fine. Just fine."

"Well, we know he can heal himself," Marie said. "We saw that back in '89."

"Not just himself," Dee muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, yes, he can heal himself," Dee said quickly. "What did Diane want?"

"She wanted me to go over Max's records, mainly his CT scan, and see if I found any red flags. You sound pretty calm, so I'm assuming you and Brivari managed the blood work?"

"We took care of that," Dee said. "And we knew the CT wouldn't show anything unusual. So what'd you tell her?"

"I told her I'd love to help, and I'd get back to her," Marie said. "I wanted to talk to you first, and now that I have, I think it's best that I come down there."

"Why?" Dee said, startled.

"Because I don't want Max's records sent here," Marie explained. "The fewer places who know about him or have him anywhere on record, the better. If I come to Roswell, I can walk into the hospital, Diane can sign the release, and I'll just look at them there. They won't go anywhere else."

"But....okay," Dee said uncertainly. "I just.....are you sure we can't fax them to you, or something?"

"Why?" Marie asked suspiciously. "What are you not telling me?"

Dee hesitated before deciding she had to fess up. "You shouldn't come to Roswell, Marie. Much as I'd love to see you, it's too dangerous. The FBI is here, specifically the Special Unit. And they're after Max."

"What?!" Marie exclaimed, flabbergasted. "And you were going to mention this.....when?"

"I hadn't gotten there yet!" Dee said in exasperation. "It's all been so complex lately, and now this....." She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "There must be some other way to appease Diane and keep you out of harm's way at the same time. Maybe I could bring the records to you? Or meet you halfway somewhere? Or—"

"Dee, what happened?" Marie interrupted. "What could have brought the Unit down on Max? They had no idea he even existed."

Dee closed her eyes briefly. "He healed someone. A girl. A girl he likes."

" 'Healed' her? 'Healed her' how?"

"She was shot. Random gunfire. And he healed her. Right in front of everyone."

"You mean he did this in public?"

"They covered it," Dee said. "The girl said she'd fainted and spilled ketchup on herself. Almost everyone believed her except for a couple of Crash Festival whackos and.....Sheriff Valenti."

"Valenti," Marie whispered.

"He called the FBI," Dee said sadly, "and the whole house of cards has been shaking ever since. The kids know they're being followed, and they know.....they know more than that," she added with a sigh. "They're waking up, Marie. Slowly, but surely, they're waking up."

"Then I'm coming out there. I'll catch a flight—"

"You can't," Dee broke in. "You shouldn't be so near the Unit."

"Nonsense," Marie said firmly. "It's been decades since anyone's given me a second thought. And now it's more important than ever that I have a look at Max's records, and that no one knows I'm doing that. The quietest way to do that is in person. Can I stay with you or your parents?"

"Mama and Daddy are in Assisted Living now," Dee said. "Anthony and I are living in their house, so you can stay with us. But I still say this is risky, and I bet Steven will agree."

Another pause. "He might," Marie said softly. "But I'm coming anyway. I'll leave you a message just as soon as I've booked a flight."





******************************************************




11:45 a.m.,

Roswell



The lunch crowds were out in full force as Brivari worked his way down the street, keeping his distance. Directly in front of him was one of the Special Unit agents who was tailing Zan and Liz Parker, who did indeed appear to be on a "date" which did indeed involve ice cream. The agent had been following them ever since they'd left the school, and Brivari was on tenterhooks wondering what his Ward was up to, because he was definitely up to something. Even though he'd given his grandmother ostensibly correct information about his lunchtime plans, the whole thing felt much too calculated, not to mention that Zan was spending entirely too much time turning around to make certain the agent was still there.

Zan and the Parker girl rounded a corner. Brivari scooted ahead of the agent and rounded the corner before he did, just in time to see Zan go into the UFO Center. That's it! Brivari thought triumphantly. This was merely a replay of the last time, when Zan had managed to shake not only the agent, but his Warder as well. Not this time, buddy, Brivari thought grimly, sprinting around the building as the agent headed for the front door. Zan was pulling another disappear-out-the-back-door trick. The question was, where was he going?

Five minutes later Brivari let himself in the back door through which precisely no one had emerged, making his way past the obligatory alien autopsy exhibits, crash site depictions, and dioramas of military personnel circa 1947, noting they'd at least gotten the uniforms right. The first thing he spotted was the disgruntled agent, nosing around the center much the same way as Brivari, and for the same reason. Brivari found their target first, hunched behind a display with the Parker girl as they kept a close watch on the agent until he gave up and exited the building. Okay, you lost him, Brivari thought, staying close enough to Zan to touch him. Where are you going?

Zan and the Parker girl continued to hide for the next fifteen minutes, emerging into the November sunshine cautiously, their eyes darting everywhere to make certain they weren't still being followed. As soon as Zan was satisfied that was the case, they left, moving quickly and confidently, and Brivari went with them, only to stop abruptly when it was clear where Zan was headed.

School?

Dumbfounded, Brivari followed his Ward back into the school, where he visited his locker, retrieved his books, and went to class. What in blazes was going on here? Why all the tap dancing with the agent? It was only when Zan took his seat in his first post-lunch class that he realized Vilandra wasn't there.

Damn it! Brivari thought furiously. He'd been had again! Only this time Zan himself had been the decoy, leading the agent astray so that Vilandra, and probably Rath as well, could do....what? What were they up to? The thought of Zan up to something was bad enough, but the thought of the other two off on their own was even worse. Granted, Rath had acquitted himself admirably yesterday when he'd retrieved the blood sample, but that had been an emergency, and his track record wasn't encouraging. Worried now, Brivari began the hunt in earnest. The Parker girl's waitress friend was also missing, as was Rath, although that didn't necessarily mean anything as he often skipped school. He found Topolsky inexplicably emerging from the men's room, but she merely returned to her office for a meeting with a student. The second Unit agent was right where he'd left him this morning, keeping an eye on the jeep, which hadn't left its parking space since Zan's arrival at school this morning. That meant Rath and Vilandra were either on foot or in another vehicle, probably the waitress's car given that she, too, was missing. He discovered the first Unit agent emerging from his motel room, car keys in hand, only moments before he spotted a red car on the far side of the parking lot.

It can't be, Brivari thought. But he let the agent leave, and his suspicions were confirmed a minute later when Rath and the Parker girl's friend emerged from the car, walked right up to the agent's motel room.....and broke in.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 26 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!






CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX



December 1, 1999, 1 p.m.

West Roswell High School



"Well, aren't you glowing!" Annette beamed as the other women in the school office exchanged conspiratorial smiles. "We've been wondering what's made you so happy today, and we've all decided....it's a man! Are we right?"

Kathleen Topolsky blinked at the eager, hopeful faces in front of her. "Well?" Annette demanded excitedly, practically bouncing up and down in her chair. Are we right?"

"I've got two cups of coffee and thirty minutes on the phones riding on this," another woman said.

"So do I," the third added.

"You mean....do you mean you're betting on this?" Topolsky asked, bewildered.

"Absolutely!" Annette said. "Not with money, of course."

"Worse," the second woman commented. "Half an hour of cranky parents' phone calls is more expensive than you might think. So what's the verdict?"

Topolsky's mouth opened, then closed. "I....I guess you're right," she said finally. "It's a....man."

"I knew it!" Annette exclaimed triumphantly. "Younger or older?"

"Sorry?"

"Are you robbing the cradle, or is he?" clarified the third woman.

"Ah....I guess I am," Topolsky admitted. "He's much younger."

"Ha!" Annette crowed. "I win!"

"On the age question," the third woman said. "But what about mine? Did Miss Topolsky pursue him, or did he pursue her?"

Three expectant faces stared at her. "I....guess I did the pursuing," Topolsky answered.

"Then I win on that score!" announced the third woman.

"What happens if we're all partly right?" worried Annette. "Do we have to split up the coffee fetching and phone duty?"

Topolsky slipped a note into the principal's mailbox and slipped out before the calculations about who had won what were finished. Good grief....those doughnuts she'd bought by way of apology for her behavior two days ago had certainly melted the ice. And although it was a little unnerving how completely the office staff had tapped into her mood, they'd hit the nail right on the head—she was glowing, had been ever since Agent Moss had dropped off the lab report on the blood sample she'd collected from Alex Whitman. Amazing how this whole operation had gone from good, to bad, to worse, to downright awful, and then.... Yes! she had exulted after she'd ripped open the envelope with hands that shook from excitement: Alex Whitman's blood matched the sample supposedly belonging to Max Evans. Which meant the blood sample supposedly belonging to Max Evans didn't really belong to Max Evans, and she was now only a hair's breadth away from having everything she needed to force a valid blood test, the results of which should prove very interesting indeed.

More than interesting, she thought as she practically floated back to her office. More like 'transforming'. Proof of Max Evan's true identity would not only silence her critics, it would enshrine her as the first Special Unit agent to actually capture an alien and ensure that she could write her own job description from now on. Let Valenti talk all he wanted; all of that would be mere background noise once the Unit had a live alien under lock and key with a name tag verifying her as the successful hunter. Who cared if the missing diary had been a bust, Marathon had been a letdown, and Valenti's damnably accurate nose had almost ruined everything. The gods had smiled, sending a horse across Max Evan's path and providing her first real opportunity to get close to him. Which the kids had foiled, and admirably quickly, she had to admit. But she could move fast too, and when she'd held her rebuttal in her hands this morning, it had been sweet indeed, as had the look on Alex's face when she'd called him in and confronted him. Alex was smart, but he was more than that—Alex was a rule follower, and rule followers always felt guilty when they didn't follow the rules. It must have been very hard for him to do what he'd done, and she intended to exploit that any way she could. All she needed was his confession to force another blood test, one the Unit would be sure to closely monitor this time and that would finally give them some answers, answers which had eluded them since the forties. She, little old Kathleen Topolsky, would be the one to deliver those answers, and she had no intention of letting anyone forget that.

"Afternoon, Ms. Topolsky."

Topolsky looked up....and smiled broadly. "Afternoon, sheriff. Fine day, wouldn't you say?"

Valenti hesitated, as though her cheerfulness had caught him off guard. She'd been jumpier than a cat on a hot tin roof every time they'd bumped into each other since their little "chat", so to see her calm and smiling must be giving him pause. "I would," he agreed. "Mind if I come in?"

"Need some career counseling?" Topolsky said dryly.

Valenti smiled faintly. "No. But you might."

"Oh? Why's that?"

Valenti shrugged. "It's just, under the circumstances....if I were your superiors....I'd wonder if maybe you'd picked the wrong job."

"And why would my superiors wonder that, sheriff?"

Valenti closed the door behind him. "So is that how we're going to play this? Like it never happened?"

"Like what never happened?"

"I see," Valenti nodded slowly. "I see. There's just one problem. It did happen."

"If you say so, sheriff."

A puzzled silence ensured as Valenti gave her a measured stare, and Topolsky returned his gaze with one of unruffled calm. Imagine, her silencing a Valenti. That was a feat all by itself.

"Okay, well....I just wanted to let you know that I'm still considering your offer," Valenti said finally. "Your very generous offer."

"I'm glad to hear that," Topolsky smiled. "Let me know when you've reached a decision."

"I certainly will," Valenti answered, tipping his hat after another moment's hesitation. "Enjoy the rest of this fine day, Ms. Topolsky."

"And you, sheriff," Topolsky replied, following him into the hall. "Thanks for stopping by."

He left still puzzled, still wondering why she wasn't worried and begging and terrified he'd tell. The answer to that question came wafting down the hallway in the form of a harmony which drew her to the door of the auditorium where she could see, on the stage in the distance, the West Roswell Chorale practicing for their Christmas concert.

"Whitman!" Mr. Borrelli, the director called. "What's with you today? You're going flat every time you open your mouth."

"Yeah....sorry," Alex mumbled, barely audible.

"Again," Mr. Borrelli called. "Second verse......"

And it was then that Alex Whitman looked up and saw her framed in the auditorium doorway.....and stumbled again.

"Whitman!"

"Sorry!" Alex sputtered. "Sorry......"

Any minute now, Topolsky thought with satisfaction. Any minute now, he'll crack.



******************************************************




Three hours later




Alex Whitman paused on the front steps of West Roswell High, wishing he could find a rewind button. Three days ago he'd been just another student here, his life a relatively humdrum example of small town adolescence, albeit the geeky variety. Three days ago his biggest worry about school had been what was next on the menu for gym, his worst class and biggest waste of time. His biggest worry outside of school had been how to convince a motley group of occasional musicians to form a band and fit it in around his homework. His biggest worry about his future had been how many AP classes he'd be able to cram into his junior and senior years and still get 5's on every single AP exam so he could raise the odds of earning college credit and shorten the length of time he'd have to spend on a college he couldn't afford. Three days ago he'd considered all of that a fairly full plate of real problems. Now it all looked like less than a morsel, mere crumbs. Now he had a better appreciation of what a real problem actually looked like.

Checking his watch, Alex sat down on one of the school's front steps, using this moment in the sunshine to once again try to piece it all together. Liz's cryptic phone call from the hospital asking for a favor. Her incredible announcement of the kind of "favor" she was looking for, followed by her incredible behavior and incredible unwillingness to explain herself. Kyle Valenti's burst of paranoia, which had only served to underscore that Liz had begun keeping secrets from more than just him. Miss Topolsky's bombshell that she knew what he'd done. That bizarre conversation with Max, the second person in a only a few minutes to claim concern about his "safety". Finding Liz's note in his locker and his subsequent conversation with her, which had ended twenty minutes ago and settled nothing. He could safely say he was more confused now than he'd ever been, and completely torn about what to do. And he had just a few minutes to figure that out because the one thing that was clear was that waiting around for this to sort itself out was a very bad idea. Something inside him was telling him to act, and act now. The question was, how?

Lists, Alex told himself firmly. He'd always been a list-maker, and that trusty technique wouldn't fail him now. What did he know for sure? He knew Liz and Max were hiding something. He knew that letting Liz....or rather, Isabel....take a blood sample to use in place of Max's had been illegal, and that his having been flabbergasted when that was what Liz wanted and screaming inside while he'd let her do it wouldn't get him off the hook. He knew that teenagers could fall in with bad crowds, that there were people in school whose sole reason for getting up in the morning was to get shit-faced by noon. He knew that Topolsky somehow knew about the blood samples. He knew that his parents didn't know because he'd just called home and his Mom had been cheery as ever. He knew that the principal didn't know because he'd run into him after chorale and chatted for several minutes. He knew that Liz had just asked him for one more favor, once again without telling him why.

Second list, Alex went on, having been over this so many times that the lack of paper and pencil was no handicap. What didn't he know? He didn't know exactly why Max didn't want his blood looked at. Sure, Liz had said it was drugs, but he was pretty sure she'd been lying. Besides, Max Evans may be moody and broody, but he was no druggie. Even Michael, for all his legendary absenteeism, wasn't known as either a user or a supplier, nor were Maria and Isabel. So what could it be? More importantly, what could it be that would be so bad that Liz would repeatedly refuse to tell him? You saved my life, Max had said. Was that a literal statement, or an adolescent outburst that translated to, "I would have died if my parents found out"? And speaking of finding out, how could anyone, never mind Miss Topolsky, have found out what happened? How could the hospital have possibly known that the blood samples had been switched? And if they knew, why was a guidance counselor bringing it to his attention? Heck, why was anyone bringing it to his attention? He was a minor—wouldn't they have called his parents first? And yet his parents didn't know. The principal didn't know. But the guidance counselor knew, the one with "friends" she was strangely reluctant to identify. And if there was something illegal going on, how could she say there would be no police? Weren't the police always involved with something illegal? If her "friends" weren't police, who were they? School people? More counselors? But then why didn't the principal know about this? Or maybe he did, and he was just letting Miss Topolsky handle it?

Shaking his head, Alex rose from the steps and walked into the school with all the same questions he'd had to begin with. He'd told Liz that none of this was okay, and he'd meant that, but there was more to it—not only was none of this was okay, none of this made any sense. His smart and strait-laced friend asking him to do something illegal, and yet she seemed sane. Slightly strange, but basically okay people doing incredibly desperate things. Guidance counselors who inexplicably knew things that others in authority didn't and should. No matter how he tried to massage the numbers, it just didn't add up. Everybody wanted something from him, but none of them would tell him why. He hated to admit it, but Liz's fantastic claim that Topolsky might not actually be a guidance counselor was starting to look vaguely sensible. Either that, or he'd just drunk the Kool-Aid.

Topolsky's closed door loomed in front of him. Alex glanced down the hallway and spied Liz waiting for him. He hadn't told her what he was going to do. He hadn't told her because he hadn't decided yet. Even as his hand rose to knock, he still couldn't tell her because he still hadn't decided.

Topolsky was at her desk when he walked in and closed the door behind him. "I've thought about what you said," he began, something of an understatement. "And I'm not worried about me right now....it's Liz. If...if I do this, if I give you what you want, what happens to her? I mean, what...what do your friends do?

"She'll be questioned," Topolsky answered. "They'll probably want to do some medical tests to make sure she wasn't harmed in any way."

Alex blinked. Medical tests? On Liz? What for? Liz hadn't been high; he'd seen her right after the accident. "But no....no police, right?"

Topolsky smiled. "No."

Wrong answer, Alex thought. Anything involving medical tests or people being "harmed" or "not safe" should involve the police. "But if...if they're involved in drugs, then...." He paused as Topolsky's eyes dropped. "It is drugs....isn't it?"

Topolsky pushed a pad of paper and a pen toward him. "Just write down everything that happened at the hospital, and we'll take it from there."

A knock sounded on the door. A second later, it opened. It was Liz.

"Is something wrong, Liz?" Topolsky asked.

"Can I see you for a second?" Liz asked. "Privately. It's really important."

Alex felt Liz's eyes boring into him as Topolsky rose from her chair. "I'll be right back," she told him. "You can go ahead and start that project we were talking about."

The door closed behind them. Alex stared at the pen and paper in front of him, then back at the door. Liz wasn't being straight with him, and that was maddening, but Topolsky wasn't being straight with him either. What was with the "write it down and we'll talk later" bit? If she had evidence that the blood samples had been switched, why did she need his confession? Maybe she was bluffing? Maybe she'd just guessed at what he'd done? But how? And why? What business did a guidance counselor have overseeing a car accident?

Alex's hands tightened on the arms of the chair as yet another item on his "know for sure" list clicked into place. Because she needs me. She needed his confession; if she didn't, he'd be hearing about this from all corners. Topolsky needed his confession every bit as much as Liz needed his silence. Whatever the hell was going on, he was the linchpin, and neither Liz nor Topolsky was willing to cough up the truth for fear he wouldn't give them what they wanted. And while he would very much like to disappoint both of them given that neither was being honest with him, that was a tough one—Topolsky wanted him to talk, and Liz wanted him to keep quiet. How did one talk and keep quiet at the same time?

Ignoring the pen and paper, Alex took a seat behind Topolsky's desk and opened her laptop. Liz had wanted him to keep quiet, but she'd also wanted something else, something he'd initially scoffed at that now looked very enticing indeed because it could give him some of those answers which had proven so elusive. So, who are you talking to? he thought, calling up Topolsky's e-mail client. New password? No sweat. He tapped the keys, one eye on the door, eager to discover the identity of Topolsky's "friends". "Damn," he muttered when he discovered nothing in her in-box. What about sent mail? The gas gauge crawled, the screen blinked....





*****************************************************




Kathleen Topolsky stood in the doorway to her office, staring at the last thing she'd ever expected to see: Alex Whitman seated at her desk with her open laptop in front of him. Fool! she chastised herself with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ten minutes ago she'd thought she had him. Ten minutes ago Alex had appeared in her office and all but confessed. He'd cracked even earlier than she'd expected, probably because he was a rule follower. And such a sweetheart, with all that concern about Liz and her "drug problem". Well, yes, of course, that's what Liz would have told him. She would have had to have told him something, and that was the most plausible story. And then Liz had appeared, trying to convince her that Alex was paranoid, and Topolsky's already soaring hopes had hit the ozone layer. It had been all she could do to maintain a façade of professional calm and detachment, so giddy had she been at the prospect of the success which must be right around the corner if Liz was so worried. "We both know Alex, she'd said only moments ago. "I think we can trust that he'll do the right thing, don't you?"

Wrong, Topolsky thought grimly as Alex bolted out of her chair. Here she'd thought he was writing a confession when all he'd been doing was snooping. This whole thing had been a set up, both Alex's mea culpa and Liz's "private" conversation, and she'd fallen for it. Never underestimate the power of an adolescent girl over a hormonal adolescent boy; the former would trump a guilty conscience any day of the week. But as much as this was a disappointment, Alex had just given her more ammunition. She had the blood test, and now she had the same student snooping on her computer. She still had leverage.

And then Alex turned the laptop around.

One could have heard a pin drop as three people stopped breathing. The FBI logo was so bright it could probably be seen from the hallway, and any hope that Alex had merely landed on the FBI's homepage by mucking in her browsing history was dashed by characters at the bottom of the screen which practically shouted "opening FBI files". How in the hell had he hacked her e-mail in the few minutes Liz had had her on a leash? Not that it mattered—he had. Guess he didn't really need that AP computer tutorial after all. In just five minutes, the kid who was supposed to be her savior had nailed her to a cross.

"If you think you've just helped yourselves, you're wrong," Topolsky said tightly, walking to her laptop and closing the lid, Alex instinctively moving away to join Liz in the doorway. "You're playing games with something very dangerous."

Alex said nothing, and neither did Liz. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Maybe she'd interrupted him just in time. Maybe he hadn't even processed what he'd seen. Maybe she could still scare him into giving her what she wanted.

"What's the FBI doing at West Roswell?" Alex asked.

Shit. Two pairs of accusing eyes bored into hers, both of them defiant. God, but she'd misjudged him. What had ever made her think that he was just going to roll over?

"This isn't going to end just because you know who I am," Topolsky said, slipping her laptop into her bag. "I was on your side. I just hope your friend Max doesn't end up in the wrong hands without me here."

Alex and Liz watched in total silence as she walked past them with as much dignity as she could muster, climbing the stairs on legs that shook, breathing through a chest so constricted, it threatened to suffocate her. There would be no strong-arming Alex now; she had something on him, but he had something on her. Anyone with the guts to pull off what they'd just done couldn't be expected to keep quiet about this, and so....it was over. She'd fought the good fight, but it was impossible to stay here with her cover blown not once, but twice. Time to back off, regroup, and try to save her career. She'd almost convinced herself that was possible by the time she spied Agent Moss in the school parking lot, who rolled down his car window as she approached.

"What's wrong?" he asked warily.

"We're leaving," she said shortly. "Tell Butler."

Moss blinked. "Why? Did Valenti talk?"

Topolsky hesitated. "I'll go into it later. Best to not be here when it goes down." She paused. "Why are you still in the parking lot? School ended an hour ago."

"You told me to tail Max Evans," Moss replied. "So I'm tailing Max Evans."

Topolsky followed Moss's gaze to the far side of the parking lot, where Max Evan's jeep was parked.....with Max at the wheel, staring straight at them. "Well, you can stop now," Topolsky said. "I'm not the only one who's been made."

Moss glanced over at Max, dropped his eyes. Good luck, Max, Topolsky thought grimly as she headed to her car. You may have won the battle, but I doubt you'll win the war.




******************************************************




Crashdown Café




"You're sure?" Isabel demanded. "Absolutely sure?"

"I'm sure," Liz repeated for the third time.

"But....you only saw the screen for a moment, right? You could easily be wrong."

Liz shook her head. "I'm not wrong."

"But—"

"Tell her," Max said to Liz, interrupting his sister. "Tell her what it said."

Liz hesitated as Isabel visibly recoiled. "It said, 'Opening FBI files e-mail sent, encryption on'."

Isabel's head shook slowly from side to side. "No," she whispered. "You couldn't possibly have read all that so quickly."

"Isabel, I can," Liz said gently. "I read fast. Words just....I don't know, they jump out at me. I can read whole posters just walking by them. I know what it said."

"But you were standing in the doorway!" Isabel said desperately. "How well can you read a laptop screen from a doorway?"

"Well enough to know what it said," Maria answered. "Look, if Liz says she saw it, then she saw it."

Isabel nodded wordlessly, wrapped her arms around herself. "Okay," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "Okay." Suddenly she faltered, stumbling against a chair.

"Why don't you sit down?" Max suggested.

"No," Isabel said, waving him off. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"You don't look okay," Maria commented. "Here....have a whiff of my Cypress oil. It's great for—"

Crash! The bottle flew out of Maria's hand, flying across the room, shattering against the wall, leaving a splash of oil in its wake. Everyone stared at it in shock, Isabel most of all.

"I....I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't....I thought....I didn't mean to......"

"It's okay," Max said gently. "You're upset."

But Isabel was more than upset, she was hyperventilating. Her breathing had turned rapid and shallow and she was sweating as she clutched the chair she'd nearly fallen over for support. "Down," Maria ordered, steering her into the chair. "Sit down. Right here. Put your head down on your knees. Look, I know what this feels like," she insisted when Isabel gave her a dubious look. "Do you feel really hot? Have you got this buzzing sensation all over? Are your ears going all weird? Exactly," she added when Isabel's eyes widened. "I pass out all the time when I get my period, and this puts the blood back in your head. Yes, even your head." She reached out a hand, clamped it on Isabel's shoulders. "Lean over....that's it...."

"Do what she says, Iz," Max advised. "Don't fight her."

"If I weren't so dizzy....," Isabel muttered from her hunched over position.

"Yeah, whatever," Maria said. "You can throw me against the wall when you feel better. Just keep your head down and hold still. Go get her some pop," she added to Liz. "Something with lots of sugar in it."

Liz hurried off, returning a minute later with a bottle of Coke. By that time Isabel was sitting up, and she downed half the Coke right away.

"Better?" Maria asked.

"A little," Isabel whispered. "Look, I'm....sorry. I'll replace—"

"Don't worry about it. I can get Cypress oil a lot easier than you can ditch the FBI."

Isabel blinked rapidly as though blinking back tears. "I thought it was Valenti, you know?" she said in a brittle voice. "I thought it was him, that he'd hired someone to follow us around."

"That's what I thought too," Liz said.

"And to think I actually talked to her, with all that stuff about careers and personality profiles, and....God, it makes me sick," Isabel said, shaking her head. "She had access to us, our records....everything."

"But nothing that matters," Max pointed out. "None of us told her anything important, and there's nothing damning in our school records. That's why she was going after the accident."

"Do we know for sure Topolsky was working for the FBI?" Maria asked. "Did she actually say that?"

"No," Liz admitted. "But we know she was sending them e-mails. Which makes her an informant, at least."

"And we know they were working together," another voice added.

Heads turned as Michael closed the door quietly behind him. "What happened to you?" he asked Isabel, eyeing her up and down.

"Nothing," Isabel said irritably. "Where have you been? We're in the middle of a crisis, and you took off."

"Because I asked him to," Max said. "I wanted him to check on a few things while Liz and I brought you up to speed."

"What about bringing him up to speed?" Isabel demanded. "Oh...I see. You've already brought him up to speed. Why am I always the last one to know anything around here?"

"What'd you find out?" Max asked Michael.

"Fine, just ignore me," Isabel muttered.

"I think this is more important than your hurt feelings," Michael said sharply.

"I think the problem is that you think everything is more important than her feelings," Maria pointed out.

"All right, everybody, just stop," Max said firmly. "This affects all of us, and we've all contributed to figuring it out. This is Michael's contribution. What'd you find out?"

Glances flew around the circle before Michael answered. "Topolsky's gone," he said finally. "I watched her pack her stuff in her car and leave."

"Which direction?" Max asked.

"North. Moss is gone too. Checked out of the motel and also headed north."

"So we know they were working together," Maria murmured.

"We already knew that," Max said. "I was waiting for Liz this afternoon, and I saw Topolsky come out of the school. She went right up to Moss and started talking to him, and then they both looked at me."

"Marvelous," Isabel sighed.

"And then what?" Maria asked.

"She just....left," Max answered. "And Moss left. And then Alex came out, and then Liz. Liz told me what happened, and I sent Michael after Topolsky and Moss to see what they were going to do."

"Why would she just leave like that?" Isabel asked.

"Because she didn't really have anything," Max answered. "That's why she needed Alex's 'confession'."

"Did he give it to her?" Michael asked.

Everyone looked at Liz, who shook her head. "No. She'd handed him a pad of paper and a pencil when I showed up, and when I pulled her out of the office, she told him to work on the 'project' they'd been talking about. But then he hacked her computer, and she just.....left."

"Alex comes through," Maria murmured. "Again."

"We can't tell him," Max said.

"I don't see why not," Maria countered. "He's saved your butts twice now. And if there's anyone you could safely tell, it would be Alex. He'd be safer to tell than me. Hypothetically," she added quickly when Michael's eyebrows rose.

"She's right," Liz added.

"I know how much you want to tell him," Max said, "and I agree he's done a lot for us. But we can't afford to let anyone else in right now."

"Too many people know already," Michael added.

"I'm guessing that by 'too many people', you mean me?" Maria said dryly.

"You go right on guessing," Michael advised.

"I just feel so bad for him," Liz said miserably. "He's so upset with me for not being square with him, and the only reason he was willing to snoop on Topolsky was because she was doing the same thing."

"What exactly did she tell him again?" Isabel asked.

"He said she told him that she knew about the hospital and the blood test," Liz answered. "And that she wanted him to write it all down, and that her 'friends' could protect him, keep everything off his permanent record. She told him the sheriff wouldn't be involved."

"Oh, no, of course, not," Isabel muttered. "No sheriff. Just the FBI. No worries."

"He didn't know that," Liz protested. "But he did know enough to be suspicious of her. I think he was every bit as suspicious of her as he was of me."

"And what did you tell him?" Isabel asked. "Did you tell him the truth?"

Liz looked at Maria, who looked away. "No. I told him Topolsky wasn't who she claimed to be, that she had another agenda. And I told him there was a right side and a wrong side to this, and that I was on the right side."

"Okay, so he doesn't know, and he didn't snitch," Isabel said quietly. "Thank God. But anyone who thinks this is over just because he didn't snitch is crazy. The FBI had at least three people squatting here to watch us, probably more. They're not just going to give up."

"They just did," Michael pointed out.

"No, they left town," Isabel corrected. "That doesn't mean they've given up. If she really does have proof that we switched the blood samples, she's certainly going to use it."

"Then why hasn't she?" Liz asked. "Why go after Alex the way she did? If she had proof, she wouldn't have needed him. We know she had people watching us at the hospital, so for all we know, she's bluffing. For all we know, she just guessed."

"Exactly," Max agreed. "All the signs are that she didn't have what she needed, and now she's left town without getting it. That's good news."

"Until they send someone else," Isabel said. "Then what?"

"Maybe they won't," Max said. "It looks like all they were doing was watching. They never made a move on us because they never had anything to make a move with, and we should keep it that way. We should just be ordinary high school students and not give anyone a reason to suspect anything."

"On the outside," Michael qualified. "But the FBI's not the only one who wants to know who we are and why we're here."

"Michael..." Max began.

"Don't 'Michael' me," Michael said, mimicking Max's tone. "Isabel's right—what if they send someone else? We need to be as ready as we can be because if there's a next time, we might not be as lucky as we were this time."

"I agree," Isabel nodded.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Max cautioned. "With any luck she'll be in so much trouble with her bosses for being discovered that it'll end right here."




*****************************************************



Citronelle,

Washington, D.C.




"Have you made your selection, sir?"

"Yes, we'll have the '96 Chateau Lafite," Pierce answered.

"A very good year, sir. Excellent choice."

Seated across from him, Vanessa smiled faintly as the sommelier disappeared to retrieve the very expensive bottle of wine Pierce had just ordered. "My, but we're living large tonight. Fancy restaurant, fancy wine....what's the occasion?"

"I'm feeling lucky," Pierce said.

"Oh? Why?"

"No particular reason. And besides, do I need a reason to order an excellent bottle of wine as I dine with a beautiful woman?"

"Mmm," Vanessa murmured. "Sure you're not just trying to make yourself feel better?" She leaned in closer. "I have contacts on Capitol Hill, Daniel. You should let me work on your problem."

"You don't even know what my problem is," Pierce remarked.

"No, because you won't tell me," Vanessa answered. "Which is stupid. I'm a huge resource. Powerful men use whatever resources they have at hand."

"I'm trying to imagine just exactly what you'd do to me if I started treating you as nothing more than a 'resource'," Pierce said dryly. "I'm guessing it involves blood or blackmail. Or both."

"Maybe with an ordinary woman," Vanessa answered. "But I'm no ordinary woman. I'm different."

"Let me guess," Pierce smiled. "You're an alien?"

Vanessa blinked. "I'm a politician. Meaning that power gives me more of a rush than flattery."

"Thank you for the turn-on tutorial, darling, but I'll handle this myself. And while we're on the subject....don't ever call me stupid again."

Vanessa's features darkened just as his cell phone went off. "Excuse me," Pierce said, rising from his chair and retreating to the alcove beside the now extinct pay phone before answering.

"Danny? Brian," Brian's excited voice came over the phone. "Have I got news for you!"

"Hubble went to Roswell?" Pierce said hopefully.

"Better. Kathleen Topolsky's cover was blown, and she's retreated! The Bureau is no longer in Roswell. It's all yours."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'm on vacation next week, so I'll post Chapter 27 on Sunday, February 27.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!



CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


December 3, 1999, 7:30 a.m.

West Roswell High School



"Um, hi....good morning," Liz Parker said to the school secretary behind the counter. "I'm looking for Miss Topolsky. Do you know when she'll be in?"

"She's not in?" the secretary said, surprised. "She's usually here by 7 a.m. at the latest. Let me give her a call."

Liz waited on pins and needles as the secretary dialed. A few minutes later she replaced the receiver and frowned. "That's odd. She's not answering her cell. Annette," the secretary called to another woman running off copies at the copier, "Miss Topolsky said she'd be back today, right?"

"Right," Annette answered.

"Well, I'm sorry I can't help you, dear," the secretary told Liz, "but why don't you check back later? She wasn't feeling well yesterday, so maybe she's still ill. Or maybe her car broke down. You never know."

You sure don't, Liz thought, thanking the secretary and making her way back out into the crowded hallway where Maria was waiting for her. "God, it's sweltering," Maria complained. "Now I know what the Wicked Witch of the West felt like when she melted. Well? What did they say?"

"That she was out sick yesterday, and was supposed to be back today," Liz replied. "But she's not, and she's not answering her cell."

"So she's gone!" Maria exclaimed. "Excellent!"

"Yeah," Liz said tonelessly. "Excellent."

"Why are you so down in the dumps?" Maria demanded. "You and Alex just drove the FBI out of Roswell! That is so cool! Granted, it's not cool that they were here in the first place, but this just confirms my nose for liars is accurate and that none of us will be pushed around. That's gotta be good news."

"It is," Liz agreed. "I just....I can't help but remember that winning the battle doesn't mean winning the war."

"What war? Like Max said, if Topolsky already had the goods on Alex, she wouldn't have needed his confession. And she certainly wouldn't have packed up and left just because you outed her. Not if she had ammunition."

"I know. I just...."

"You 'just' what?" Maria pressed. "What are you not telling me?"

Liz glanced around the hallway before pulling Maria further away from the crowds. "There was something I didn't tell everyone. Something Topolsky said."

"Oh, God," Maria groaned. "Here it comes. What'd she say?"

"She said....that this wasn't over just because we knew who she was. That she was on our side, and she hoped Max didn't wind up in the wrong hands without her here."

Maria blinked. " 'On our side'? Just how stupid does she think we are? She was 'on our side' about as much as Hitler was on the side of the Jews!"

"I guess," Liz allowed.

"No, not 'guess'," Maria said firmly. "She was not on our side, Liz. She told Alex that no one could be safe with Max Evans around. Does that sound like someone who's 'on our side'?"

Liz shook her head. "No."

"She was just trying to scare you," Maria went on, "trying to salvage her last shreds of dignity. Don't fall for it."

"I shouldn't," Liz agreed.

"You have," Maria said accusingly. "I can see it in your eyes."

"But Maria, what if she wasn't lying? What if they send more people, people who are worse? Topolsky got really, really close to Max; she was only a blood test away. We were just lucky Alex was willing to help, even if he does hate me now."

"Us," Maria sighed. "He hates us. I tried to call him, like, ten times last night, and he ignored every single one of my calls. And when I said hello to him this morning, he looked right at me, then walked by without saying anything."

"I feel so bad for him," Liz said miserably. "What if he gets dragged further into this? If they send more people, Alex could be in a whole lot of trouble. I never thought anyone would figure it out."

"We didn't know Max was being followed," Maria pointed out. "And how did Topolsky figure that out? Assuming she isn't lying, of course, which she very well could be. How would you prove that we switched samples if you didn't have a videotape, or something?"

"You'd have to get another sample from him and compare the two," Liz said. "She'd have to....." She stopped, her eyes widening. "Oh, God. The nosebleed."

"What nosebleed?"

"Alex's nosebleed. Earlier this week I caught him talking to Topolsky at lunch. And I went up to them and shooed her off, and then when I was talking to Alex, his nose just suddenly started bleeding for no reason. Like someone had turned on a faucet. And then he ran to the bathroom to take care of it."

"And that's where she got the blood," Maria said darkly. "She must have done something to make it happen. God, now I'm really going to smack her if I ever see her again. You don't just go and make my friends bleed."

"We don't know she did it," Liz pointed out. "It could have been a random nosebleed, and she saw her chance and took advantage of it."

"Trust me, she made it happen," Maria declared. "I called that one right from the start, remember? And I'm calling this one. That was way too convenient to be have been an accident."

"If she'd do something like that, who knows what else she'd do," Liz fretted. "Or what anyone else they send would do."

"Liz, would you calm down? They're not 'sending' anyone. If you were so worried about this, why didn't you tell everyone what Topolsky said?"

"Because everyone was in shock, and Isabel was fainting, and....I don't know," Liz said despairingly. "Maybe I should have. Maybe I should. Tell them, that is."

Maria considered that for a moment before shaking her head. "No. What good would it do? We can't do anything about it but keep our eyes open, which we'd be doing anyway. It would just freak everyone out more, and probably for no good reason because I really think she said that just to send you round the bend. The best thing for all of us to do now is to be normal kids. The thing we all need right now is to be normal kids."

Liz's eyebrows rose. "Like you and Michael?"

Maria blinked. "What about me and Michael?"

"I just happened to see him....both of you....at the Crashdown last night," Liz commented. "Is he okay?"

Maria flushed scarlet. "Oh. That. Sure. He was just....upset. You know. From everything that was going on."

"Right," Liz nodded. "Upset."

"And I was trying to calm him down," Maria added.

"Did it work?" Liz asked innocently.

"Yeah, I guess so. I....gotta go," Maria added hurriedly. "I'll see you later. And no fussing over stuff that's probably never going to happen, you hear?"




*****************************************************




FBI Field Office,

Santa Fe



"Again, Agent Topolsky," Agent Stevens said. "Let's go over it again."

Kathleen Topolsky shifted stiffly in her chair, trying not to look as weary as she felt, as anyone would feel after sitting here since 6 o'clock this morning going over and over the circumstances surrounding her retreat from Roswell. This is what she'd prepped for so carefully on the long drive up to Santa Fe, the grilling that was certain to come and the necessity of damage control. That damage control had unwittingly started in the parking lot of West Roswell High when Agent Moss had simply assumed that Valenti was the cause of their retreat, and she hadn't corrected him....and after careful consideration, she decided she wasn't going to. For all that she'd been mortified after her run-in with Valenti, the humiliation of being caught by a Valenti was still far preferable to the humiliation of being caught by not only a couple of teenagers, but boring human teenagers; at least if they'd been aliens, she'd have a better excuse.

But lacking such an excuse, Valenti was the better option. His family was a long-time nemesis of the Unit, so she was in good company; no less than the founder of the Special Unit himself, Agent Bernard Lewis, had had a number done on him by Valenti Sr. The question was how to report it. Her conversation with Valenti had occurred nearly three weeks ago, and she hadn't uttered a peep about it to anyone. How to explain the time lapse? And should she report exactly how Valenti had discovered her, or leave that a gray area? And if she changed details of their conversation, what happened if and when the Unit talked to Valenti and he gave them a completely different story? She'd mulled all of this over on the drive to Santa Fe, holding mock arguments with herself as she'd tried to imagine Stevens' reactions and figure out which approach would do the least damage to her career, ultimately deciding to leave her conversation with Valenti largely intact and to simply change the date it took place to cover the fact that she'd continued to operate for weeks after being discovered. If he later tried to say otherwise, it would be his word against hers.

"So the sheriff pulled you over for some unknown reason," Stevens began, looking every bit as weary as she felt as he sank into his chair and reached for what must be his sixth cup of coffee. "And offered to take you out for a drink instead of hauling you in."

"Right," Topolsky said, having left out the bit about her having been speeding. "I took the drink."

"And he said you'd nearly given him a concussion, referring to your encounter at Atherton's house. The one where he was supposedly unconscious the entire time, but obviously wasn't."

Topolsky's eyes closed briefly. "Right."

"And he actually said he knew you were FBI?"

"He said that."

"And then what?"

"And then....nothing. He claimed he just wanted to 'give me a heads up' before he notified my superiors. Has he called?"

Stevens paused. "No," he said finally. "He hasn't. Although the day's not over yet. And then what?"

"And then I pulled out," Topolsky said. "He was obviously going to alert the school, and we couldn't have that. It would have compromised your operation."

"I'd say my operation was already compromised, wouldn't you, agent?"

"I meant the larger operation, sir," Topolsky clarified. "This isn't about me, or you, or Valenti, or any other single individual. This is about keeping our planet safe from alien incursion. That's the end goal, and that has to be my main focus regardless of whatever personal disappointments I may encounter."

Topolsky kept her expression neutral as Stevens' eyes flicked toward her, then down. She'd adopted the strategy of painting this latest development as simply the cost of doing business, one of the many hazards of undercover work and a mere burp in the process of the Unit's primary mission: To intercept alien life on Earth. A calculated strategy, that, because it put Stevens in the position of looking petty if he spent too much time dwelling on this, and so far it seemed to be working; Stevens was seriously displeased, but not off the wall as she'd feared....or as he would be if he knew what had actually happened.

"And what did you tell the school?" Stevens went on.

"Nothing, sir. I called in sick yesterday to give me some lead time, and they've called my cell several times this morning looking for me. I expect it'll get worse as the day wears on, especially once they've figured out my apartment is empty."

"Uh huh." Stevens was quiet for a moment. "Something doesn't add up here, agent, and I can't quite figure out what."

"I can," Topolsky said soberly. "I was smoked by a Valenti. Not the first time that's happened to the Unit."

"Wrong," Stevens said firmly. "You weren't 'smoked', you practically walked right up to him and introduced yourself as Kathleen Topolsky, FBI. Hell, you did walk right up to him and introduce yourself as Kathleen Topolsky, FBI, minus the whack over the head, of course."

"Sir, I—"

"Don't start, agent. None of this would have happened if you hadn't drop-kicked the sheriff."

"And what would have happened if I hadn't drop-kicked the sheriff?" Topolsky demanded. "The kids were down in Atherton's hidden room. Did we really want Valenti finding that? Or arresting the kids for breaking and entering?"

"I'm not going to waste my time engaging in a hypothetical discussion about what might or might not have happened if you hadn't whacked Valenti upside the head," Stevens said sharply. "I'm far more interested in what actually happened. For example, how is it that you couldn't access your own e-mail?"

"I told you, I'd just changed my password—"

"Yes. To 'Alex'. Interesting password, agent. Very secure. All four letters of it."

Topolsky flushed. "Well, I'd only just changed it, and then I had my run-in with Valenti, and it must have—"

"Slipped your mind. Yes, you said that. Your four letter password slipped your mind. Your four letter password that no self-respecting agent would ever have used to lock down their e-mail slipped your mind. And you still haven't told me what in blazes possessed you to use a student's name as a password."

"I...I guess I was all excited," Topolsky said, her face virtually on fire now. "I was so close to something big, and....." She stopped, her explanation sounding lame even to her. That had been the biggest problem with her tale, the fact that Alex Whitman had managed to hack her e-mail, changing the password and making it impossible for her to access. The Unit's IT guys had had to re-hack it, and when she'd heard what the new password was, she'd been mortified, not to mention she'd had only a few precious minutes to come up with a plausible explanation for such a ridiculous password.

"Yes, about this 'something big'," Stevens went on, mercifully abandoning the password business for the moment, at least. "You told this "Alex" that you had proof he'd provided a blood sample which was then switched with the one drawn from Max Evans....but you don't have proof, do you?"

"We have the lab work done by the hospital," Topolsky said. "Key indicators matched the sample I obtained from Alex—"

"Yes, yes, you told me," Stevens said. "But you don't have the original sample, the one the hospital used."

Topolsky hesitated. "It was gone by the time Agent Moss was able to gain access to the lab."

"So there's no way to be sure the samples were switched, is there? We can't compare DNA with a non-existent sample."

"Sir, I know what Alex Whitman did," Topolsky said firmly. "And the way he behaved when I confronted him confirms it. All I needed was his confession. Then we would have had grounds to draw a second sample under conditions that would have made it impossible to do any switching—"

"There are no 'grounds', agent," Stevens interrupted. "Max Evans' father is an attorney. We try anything like that and he'd be on us like a duck on a June bug. We need hard evidence before we move, evidence so irrefutable that we can pull a teenaged kid off the face of the earth with no regrets. Do we have that evidence, agent?"

"I was this close to getting—"

"I didn't ask you if you were close, agent. I didn't ask you what you think happened, or what you'd swear happened, or what you'd like to happen. I asked you if we currently possess irrefutable evidence that the blood sample was switched."

Topolsky's eyes dropped. "No, sir."

"Do we have any evidence—any at all—that Max Evans is what we thought he was? I'm talking hard evidence," Stevens qualified, "not hunches, or theories, or big leaps of faith. Anything?"

"No, sir," Topolsky admitted reluctantly.

"Okay," Stevens nodded. "Okay. So is it fair to say that the results of this investigation prove that our continued presence in Roswell is unnecessary?"

So that's how this is going down, Topolsky thought. Embarrassed by his outed agent, Stevens was planning to argue that the results of their surveillance didn't justify the Unit's continued presence in Roswell, shut down the operation, and bury his shame as quickly as possible. Which was wonderful news for her because it would also bury her own shame, at least to a certain extent....but then what? She was willing to bet the rent that Max Evans was an alien. And while his actions had not been threatening....if they were right, he'd actually saved someone's life....past encounters with aliens had not been so cheerful. If no one followed up on this, they'd lose the best chance they'd had so far to question an actual alien and find out the truth about their presence on this planet. That was what really mattered, and if that meant the sacrifice of her reputation and her career, well......

Topolsky's battle at her personal and professional crossroads was interrupted by loud voices outside Stevens' office door, voices which weren't initially intelligible, but became so as the volume increased. "No, you can't go in there!" Stevens' administrative assistant, Pamela, exclaimed. "I told you, he's in a meeting—"

The door abruptly opened to reveal a rather young, dark-haired man whose eyes raked the office with the efficiency of a laser on a gun sight, passing her with what could only be categorized as contempt and coming to rest on Stevens. "Agent Pierce," Stevens said calmly to the newcomer without rising from his chair. "My goodness, but word travels fast. You must have caught the redeye from Washington."

Whoever Agent Pierce was smiled faintly. "You keep track of my whereabouts?"

"I keep track of every pain in my ass," Stevens said. "One of these days I'm going to find your mole and fry it for dinner."

"Says the man keeping track of my whereabouts," Pierce noted.

"Says your superior," Stevens corrected, "much as that pains you."

"It does pain me," Pierce admitted. "It does, and you know why? Because when people like this incompetent screw things up royally, the Unit looks bad, and the monsters get away."

Topolsky, who had blinked in astonishment at this total stranger labeling her "incompetent", couldn't contain herself. "So that's your list, in order," she said, an edge to her voice. "The Unit looking bad is the worst thing, and the monsters getting away only secondary. Interesting."

"I wasn't speaking to you," Pierce said flatly.

"No, you were speaking about me," Topolsky corrected, "and while I'm sitting right in front of you, no less. If you don't want my contribution, you should watch where and when you shoot your mouth off, agent."

"Says the agent who just screwed up and retreated," Pierce retorted.

"Says the agent who just revealed his true priorities," Topolsky shot back. "Sometimes retreat is the best way to catch the monsters, but that's not tops on your list, is it? Who exactly is this dick?" she added to Stevens. "And why does he think he can bust in on a private meeting and speak to both of us like he owns the Unit?"

The corners of Stevens' mouth twitched as Pierce's expression darkened. "Agent Topolsky, this is Agent Daniel Pierce. Agent Pierce, Agent Kathleen Topolsky."

"Never heard of you," Topolsky announced.

"And I wish I'd never heard of you," Pierce said angrily, "because I predicted from day one that this was going to happen."

"That what was going to happen?" Topolsky demanded. "This is my first debriefing, so unless you've got this office bugged, there's no possible way you could know what, if anything, has happened."

"We're wasting time," Pierce said impatiently. "Agent Stevens, with the loss of your Roswell contingent, it's clear you need seasoned agents to take over. Send me."

"You must be joking," Stevens said. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because you need to get your ass out of that sling it's in," Pierce said. "I doubt you've notified the Director yet. Send me to Roswell, and I'll go on board with a story that Agent Topolsky withdrew for personal reasons. Your reputation will remain intact, and more importantly, so will the Unit's."

Stevens sat back in his chair and studied Pierce for a moment, the air practically crackling with the tension between them. "So that's it," Stevens said finally. "I couldn't figure out what you were doing here, Pierce. I'm sure you'd love to gloat, but you were already in Washington; you could have run right in to see the Director and saved the gloating for later. So why come all the way out here, and so quickly?" Stevens leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "He won't see you, will he? The Director has blown you off. Which means you know your only hope of being officially assigned to Roswell is....me. So you're dangling the carrot, which we all know you'll yank back just as soon as you have what you want. Only you won't, because there's no way in hell I'm giving you what you want."

"Don't be an idiot," Pierce said. "You can't cover this up—"

"There's nothing to cover up," Stevens said, "or nothing that hasn't happened before. A Valenti remains our informant and our nemesis, and Agent Topolsky is hardly the first agent to have a run in with them. Your own stepfather was hung out to dry by Valenti Sr., wasn't he?"

Pierce flushed a very satisfying shade of red as Topolsky thanked her lucky stars she'd mentioned that very interesting fact at least twice in the past half hour alone. "Sheriff Valenti did this?" Pierce asked.

Stevens smiled faintly. "Ah. I see you haven't bugged my office yet. That's a comfort, I suppose. Agent Topolsky," he continued, "would you excuse us, please? We'll continue your debriefing later today."

"Of course, sir," Topolsky said, rising from her chair on legs that complained from having sat too long. Pierce glared at her with undisguised disdain, and she held his furious stare for a moment before turning to Stevens. "Best of luck, sir. Looks like you'll need it."

Topolsky left the office as calmly as she could manage, doing her best to ignore the tidal wave of hostility that followed her out the door. Pamela shot her a sympathetic look as she leaned on the desk and took several deep breaths.

"Sorry about that," Pamela said. "That guy is—"

"A dick. Yeah, I told him that."

Pamela's eyes widened. "You said that? Out loud? Outstanding!" she exclaimed when Topolsky nodded. "God, I wish I could have seen his face!"

"I'm hoping I never see it again," Topolsky admitted, "although he did take some of the heat off me."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to," Pamela said dryly. "Don't worry about Pierce. Everyone hates him. He's been burning bridges all over the place, so I doubt you'll be seeing him again."




******************************************************



Roswell International Airport




"Do you see her?" Dee asked.

"Not yet," Anthony replied.

"Are you sure? Almost everyone's off the plane."

"You're sure we have the right flight?" Anthony asked, peering under his glasses at the information Dee had scribbled on a piece of paper. "And the right gate?"

"I wrote down everything she told me very carefully," Dee said, her eyes sifting through the passengers streaming out of the jetway. "And remember, she's 'Marie', not 'Yvonne'. I couldn't seem to stop calling her 'Yvonne' last time."

"Just remember the FBI's in Roswell, and you won't have any trouble remembering her alias," Anthony advised.

"The plane's almost empty," Dee worried. "Where could she be?"

"Maybe she missed her flight?" Anthony suggested. "Maybe—oh! There she is! I....I think."

Dee followed her husband's gaze and instantly experienced the same reaction. The old woman emerging from the jetway pulling a powder blue roll-on was a far cry from the still vibrant woman they'd last seen a decade ago. Yvonne had been in her 60's in 1989, but had still looked a good deal younger. Now her hair was white, her fingers looked arthritic, and she'd adopted something at least resembling the slow, careful gait of those who weren't too steady on their feet. The change was jarring.

But Yvonne...or rather, Marie....had no trouble spotting them, heading right for them without hesitation. "Hello, Dee, Anthony," she smiled, and the smile, at least, was the same. "It's been a long time."

"Too long," Anthony agreed, giving her a hug. "I'm sorry Steven couldn't make it; I was looking forward to seeing him again too."

"I know," Marie said. "But he's not feeling well, and at his age, it was best not to risk it."

"Maybe when he's better?" Dee suggested. "We'll have to start getting together for some reason other than the latest alien crisis."

"Speaking of which," Marie said, "how is Max?"

"Did you have luggage, Marie?" Anthony asked. "Why don't I fetch it while the two of you talk."

Dee settled onto a bench in a secluded corner after Marie had described her bag to Anthony. "Max seems to be fine," she reported. "No lingering effects from the accident."

"Except for the FBI," Marie noted. "You said the children know they're being followed, and they know 'other things'. Care to elaborate on that?"

Dee glanced sideways at the crowds passing by before leaning in closer to Marie. "The Unit got very, very close," Dee confided. "They almost got their hands on Max's blood sample."

"I would imagine Brivari didn't allow that," Marie said.

"That's just it," Dee said. "He didn't have to do anything; the kids did it for us."

"Did what for you?"

"Switched the blood samples. The girl Max healed got one of her friends to give a blood sample, and then Michael switched them."

Marie's eyebrows rose. "So they know blood will give them away."

"They know more than that," Dee said. "They know they're not human. They know they arrived here in the crash. They don't know exactly how or why they're here, but they know that much. And they're actively looking for answers."

"Actively looking....how?"

"Michael broke into Valenti's office because Valenti had a photo of a man with a silver handprint," Dee answered, ticking off the list on her fingers. "They found the people Brivari stayed with while Jaddo was captive, Indians from the reservation south of here. They had to throw off the FBI to make the trip down there, but they managed. And.....oh," she said suddenly, looking past Marie. "I wasn't certain he'd come."

Marie turned around. Brivari was standing apart from the throngs, wearing the same expression Anthony had worn only a few minutes earlier. Seeing how Marie had aged was hard for them, but it would be even harder for him. "I told him you were coming, but he's been trying to keep an eye on three hybrids and three FBI agents," Dee said as Brivari made his way toward them. "I've helped as much as I can, but I only have access to Max and Isabel."

"Lieutenant," Brivari nodded when he reached them. "A pleasure, as always."

"My, but you look 'hip'," Marie chuckled. "Still a movie mogul?"

Brivari smiled faintly. "When I'm not trying to save a planet. I'm told Diane called you?"

"She wanted me to look at Max's hospital records," Marie explained. "So I called Dee for more information and discovered all kinds of interesting things have been happening. I thought it best to come in person so the Unit doesn't take note of anyone else looking into Max's condition."

"You needn't worry about that," Brivari said. "The Unit has pulled out of Roswell."

"What?" Dee exclaimed. "When?"

"Two days ago," Brivari answered. "The interesting part is why: They were discovered."

"By Valenti?" Dee suggested.

"No," Marie said softly. "By the hybrids."

Brivari nodded. "Or their allies, to be precise. Rath tracked one of the agents to his motel room and presumably learned Topolsky was no guidance counselor. Their human allies confronted her, and she left town immediately, taking her agents with her."

" 'Guidance counselor'?" Marie murmured. "Sneaky."

"Good Lord," Dee breathed. "I....I had no idea. The kids haven't said anything, haven't even acted differently."

"It's started," Marie nodded. "We all want to know where we came from. Now that they have some answers, they won't stop looking, not even if it means smoking out an FBI agent. Is Ava still with Jaddo?"

"Yes," Brivari sighed.

"Do you know how she's fared?"

"According to Jaddo, her behavior is similar to the others. He reports she's downright defiant in her zeal to know."

"So the two of you are talking again?" Marie said dryly. "Good to know, and handy under the circumstances. I'll need to see him. Can you arrange that?"

"I can try," Brivari said reluctantly. "Although I'd certainly rather not."

"We can't put this off, Brivari," Marie said firmly. "I'll take a look at Max's medical records today and put Diane's mind at ease, but then we have the larger issue to deal with. "

"But when do you need to get back?" Dee asked. "It wouldn't be fair to keep you while Steven's sick."

Marie hesitated, looking from one to the other. "Steven isn't 'sick'," she said quietly. "He's had a stroke. It was a year ago. He never recovered. He's in a nursing home."

"Oh, my goodness," Dee whispered. "I'm so sorry. I thought something might be wrong, but....but we shouldn't keep you from him. If he's expecting you to visit—"

"He's not," Marie broke in. "He doesn't recognize me any more. Hasn't since the stroke." Her eyes dropped as Dee sat there, stunned, at a loss for what to say, and Brivari looked away. "No doubt you've both noticed I'm failing a bit," Marie went on. "Losing your husband can do that to you. I think I've felt more alive since Diane called me than I have in a year. Steven won't miss me, and this needs to be done. Dee can arrange for me to meet the three who are here, but how soon can I meet Ava?"




*****************************************************




Artesia, New Mexico




" 'Not yet'!" Tess exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "That's all you ever say, 'not yet'! Well, when, then? When do I get to see more?"

"When I'm comfortable showing you more," Nasedo said flatly. "And not a moment before."

"What is your problem?" Tess demanded. "You've shown me things twice, and nothing bad has happened. I haven't freaked out. Nothing's blown up. The sky hasn't fallen."

"I haven't shown you much—"

"Tell me about it," Tess muttered.

"—so I can hardly use your lack of reaction as proof that showing you more won't provoke a reaction," Nasedo finished. "We will do this my way, or we won't do it at all. Clear?"

Tess banged the kitchen cabinet door closed and stalked out of the kitchen. "I said, are we clear?" Nasedo called after her.

"I have to go. I'm already late for school."

"That wasn't an answer," Nasedo warned.

"Yeah, well, now you know how I feel," Tess retorted. "How do you like not getting answers?"

Tess grabbed her backpack and began savagely shoving books into it. After all the excitement of their first "memory session" a couple of weeks ago, Nasedo had only done it once more, showing her essentially the same thing: Landscapes. Great, she'd muttered when he'd refused to move on to more interesting subjects. Just what she needed; an alien Monet. She wanted to know how she'd become a queen, and how she and the others had gotten separated, and why she poured sugar and salt all over everything, and why she could never take her eyes off a pregnant woman. All those festering questions and little quirks, and he had the answers....and he wouldn't give them to her. And knowing Nasedo, the harder she argued, the more likely he'd be to hold back. That's the way he'd always been, how he'd taught her not to whine. She may have learned not to whine, but, bad news for him, she had learned how to argue. One of these days, she was going to win an argument if it was the last thing she did.

Someone knocked on the front door. Sighing, Tess shouldered her backpack and opened it to find a bald man in a leather jacket, blue jeans, and a knit cap on the front step. "Hello," he smiled. "I'm here to see your....." The man paused, as though unsure how to continue.

"Father?" Tess finished for him, as whoever this was obviously wasn't here to see her. "Just a minute; I'll get him."

"May I wait inside?"

"No, you may wait outside," Tess said curtly. "He's in the kitchen; I'll be right back."

She turned, her ears pricking at the sound of the latch on the screen door. Oh, no, you don't, buddy, she thought severely, reaching out with her mind. I told you to wait on the porch, and the porch is where you're gonna wait.

Or not. Tess spun around, flabbergasted, as her mind hit a stone wall. The door hadn't locked, and their visitor walked inside and helped himself to a living room chair.

"I'll wait here," he informed her.

Tess stared at him for a moment before making a beeline for the kitchen. "There's someone here for you," she told Nasedo, their argument forgotten.

"Who?"

"I don't know. He's in the living room."

Nasedo frowned. "You let him in?"

"I didn't have a choice," Tess whispered. "He asked to come in, I told him 'no', he tried the door, and I tried to lock it....but I couldn't. It was like something was blocking me."

Nasedo's eyes flared. "Stay here," he whispered tersely, heading for the living room with Tess on his heels. No way was she staying in the kitchen; whoever this was might be an enemy, and Nasedo might need her help. She was so close behind him that she almost bumped into him when he stopped short in the living room doorway, gazing in astonishment at their visitor.

"Nice place you have here," the stranger said, plucking a tchotchke off a nearby table. "Very....domestic. Imagine you doing domestic. Who would have thought?"

Nasedo's expression hardened. "Tess," he ground out. "Go to school."




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 28 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!






CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT



December 3, 1999, 8:30 a.m.

Artesia, New Mexico





"Go to school," Jaddo repeated. "Now."

Brivari watched Ava...or rather, "Tess"....shake her head slowly, never taking her eyes off him. "No way," she whispered.

"You said you were going to be late."

"Not that late," Tess protested. "Only one period."

"This is not a request," Jaddo said firmly. "Get to school. You have that math test to make up."

"But—"

"Now," Jaddo ordered. "Or no more memory sessions."

Ava's eyes flared, that familiar defiance usually seen in Rath. But whatever a "memory session" was, it proved an effective carrot....or stick. She left the room and the house with all the objection she could muster, leaving a cloud of disapproval in her wake.

"School?" Brivari said with amusement, rising from his chair to inspect the room. "Math test? You're worse than domestic; you're positively parental—"

*Use telepathic speech,* Jaddo broke in. *I guarantee she'll be eavesdropping.*

Brivari smiled faintly. *Will she? Good for her. She tried to lock me out, you know. Cheeky little thing. Where'd you get the name 'Tess'?*

*She picked it,* Jaddo said impatiently. *What in God's name are you doing here, Brivari? We had a deal.*

*One you violated, as I recall.*

*I never walked into Zan's living room—*

*No, you walked into mine.*

*That was the back yard, and it was yours!* Jaddo said hotly. *I never entered a hybrid's home, not even my own Ward's. We had an agreement!*

*Stop posturing,* Brivari retorted, brandishing a photograph. *You may not have landed in their living rooms, but you were pretty damned close.*

Jaddo expression clouded when he saw the picture of Zan, Rath, and Vilandra he was holding. *Where did you get that?*

*Three guesses. Do you really think that knock on your front door was my first approach? Her room is covered with these. I gather that was the purpose of the camera you were sporting last time we met?*

Jaddo plucked the picture from Brivari's hand. *But I never approached them. I never spoke to them. I kept my distance, as promised. You didn't.*

*She answered the door. If you don't want anyone talking to her, answer your own door. What's a 'memory session'?*

*None of your business!* Jaddo exclaimed. *And you still haven't told me what's caused you to break our agreement, whether or not you agree you've actually broken it, which, by the way, you have.*

*I should think that would be obvious,* Brivari said. *I'm surprised you didn't make the first move under the circumstances.*

Jaddo frowned. *What 'circumstances'?*

Brivari stared at him a moment before breaking into a smile. *Do you mean to tell me you haven't heard?*

*Heard what?*

*My, but your information is tardy,* Brivari said casually, taking a seat on the couch. *I hope you're not paying through the nose for it—*

*Heard what?* Jaddo demanded.

Brivari paused, enjoying watching Jaddo smolder. Jaddo always prided himself on being the master of Special Unit information, and as he apparently had a contact there, he usually was. Not this time, though, something that would be helpful to highlight, especially in light of how he knew Jaddo would react to what he'd come here to tell him.

*The Unit has pulled out of Roswell,* Brivari said mere seconds before Jaddo erupted, a skill he'd acquired from years of practice. *Topolsky and her agents are gone.*

Jaddo blinked. *What? Why?*

*They were exposed.*

*By whom?*

*This is where it gets interesting,* Brivari said. *Have a seat.*

*By whom, Brivari?* Jaddo repeated, not budging.

Brivari sighed. *By our Wards.*

*By....* Jaddo paused, digesting that. *You mean accidentally? They accidentally exposed her?*

Brivari regarded him levelly for a moment. *No.*

There was a very long pause where time seemed to stand still. Jaddo didn't move, and Brivari waited, bracing himself in this last bit of silence before the storm. He'd successfully kept the hybrids' growing awareness from Jaddo for months now, and Jaddo wouldn't be happy about that.

At least he wouldn't be happy when he came to, that is. At the moment he was taking the seat Brivari had suggested earlier, his head shaking slowly from side to side. *I....I don't understand,* he said. *How could they have knowingly exposed the Unit?*

*Because they know someone's after them,* Brivari answered. *And they know why.*

*They've remembered?* Jaddo whispered.

*No. But they're aware they're not human.*

*And what else are they aware of?*

Plenty, Brivari thought privately. *Details later,* he said cryptically. *I'm here with a request—*

*Details now, Brivari.*

*—from Lieutenant White,* Brivari finished. *Will you hear it....or shall I leave?*

Jaddo, who had been about to protest further, stopped short. *The Healer? What does she have to do with this?*

Brivari looked at his hands. *Three days ago, Zan was in a car accident. And yes, it was an accident,* he added when Jaddo's eyes flared, *not the Unit. He wasn't injured, but he did spent a few hours in the hospital. His foster mother was concerned enough that she called the lieutenant, the lieutenant called Dee for more information....and you can just imagine how that conversation went. So she flew out here. She wants to talk to you, and....she wants to meet Ava.*

Jaddo's eyebrows rose. *And why would she want that? What are you not telling me?*

*She's at the Starbucks about a half mile from here,* Brivari continued. *Will you meet with her?*

*If I go, will you answer my questions?*

*Only if you'll answer mine. Like why you took all those photos. And what a 'memory session' is.* Brivari paused. *The Lieutenant and I will confer with or without you. Are you coming?*




******************************************************



Roswell




Another day, another dilemma, Jim Valenti thought as he hit the road in his cruiser. He hadn't slept much last night what with pondering his latest dilemma, that of the lovely Kathleen Topolsky, West Roswell's ersatz guidance counselor. Ever since he'd collared her after using Main Street for drag racing, she'd jumped out of her skin every single time she'd seen him, and she'd seen a lot of him—he'd seen to that. There was something deliciously satisfying, something mischievously Machiavellian in watching her stumble, stutter, and sweat every time she spied him. He'd backed her into a corner, she knew it, and he'd been biding his time, waiting to see what she'd do and pondering her most generous offer, one he was quite certain she'd have to break all kinds of laws to fulfill. He'd spent many an hour poring over the relative benefits and risks of taking her up on it versus going straight for the jugular and blowing her in, basically coming down on the side of taking her up on it for no better reason than he had nothing to lose; were she to produce nothing of value, which is what he expected, he could always blow her in later. But he'd been having so much fun watching her do a double take every time she saw him that he'd put it off, resolving to enjoy her discomfiture just a bit longer.

All of that had changed two days ago, the first time Topolsky hadn't freaked out at the sight of him. On the contrary, she'd been positively serene, calm, cool, collected, and utterly uninterested in the fact that he could yell "FBI!" at any moment. Something had changed, something that made her happy, and that, by definition, made him unhappy. Time to move. His first stop this morning would be the school, where he'd give her until this evening to pony up before he called her superiors. Originally he'd been going to offer twenty-four hours, but in light of her greatly improved mood, he decided he'd better keep her on a short leash. His drive to school took him past her apartment, an end unit near the road, and he glanced toward it as he passed. Then looked back. Then turned onto the nearest side street, did a U-ie, and headed back for the apartment complex, parking a few doors down and climbing slowly out of his car.

There was a man standing on Topolsky's stoop, a somewhat nebbishy, middle-aged, partly balding man in a cheap suit pounding on her door. Even before Valenti had parked, Topolsky's visitor had grown impatient and begun rattling the doorknob and peering through windows, his hands cupped around his eyes. Apparently unsatisfied, he now returned to the door, hesitated, and pulled out a key, which he managed to insert halfway into the lock before it stopped, producing a burst of profanity.

"Can I help you?" Valenti said.

The man glanced up, startled, and the instant relief which flooded his face was telling. As a general rule, criminals did not look relieved to find law enforcement mere feet away.

"Thank God!" the man exclaimed. "Did the super call you? I've been after him for the past half hour, but he won't do anything."

"And you are......?"

"Oh...sorry. Steve Sommers. I'm a teacher at West Roswell. Kyle is in one of my classes."

"Ah," Valenti said, suddenly realizing why he recognized the man's name and resolving never to tell him what his son had been saying about him. "So is there a problem?"

"You bet there's a problem!" Sommers declared. "Kathleen.....Miss Topolsky didn't report for work today, and I'm afraid something's happened to her."

"Why would you think something happened to her?"

"She didn't call," Sommers said. "Kathleen...Miss Topolsky is meticulous. She hasn't missed a day since she started, not till she called in sick yesterday."

No, I don't imagine she has, Valenti thought. The FBI probably didn't offer much in the way of time off. "Maybe she's still sick," he suggested.

"So sick she couldn't call?" Sommers said doubtfully. "She was fine two days ago. I've asked the superintendent to open the door, but he won't do it. Says it's against the law. I just know something's wrong because Kathleen...Miss Topolsky wouldn't just not show up. I'm terribly afraid something's happened to her."

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself," Valenti said soothingly. "Maybe she just overslept. That would explain why she hasn't called."

"But it doesn't explain why her car is gone. Can you help me, sheriff?" Sommers pleaded as Valenti's eyes raked the parking lot for signs of Topolsky's car. "Kathleen....Miss Topolsky would never just blow off her job. She's far too dedicated to her work, one of the most dedicated professionals I've had the privilege to work with. I—"

Valenti held up a hand. "Say no more. Let me make a few phone calls and see if I can't figure out what happened to....'Kathleen-Miss-Topolsky'."

Sommers blushed furiously, and Valenti pretended not to notice as he headed back to his cruiser, nursing a smile. Talk about a schoolboy crush. It had been difficult not to burst out laughing at the "dedicated professional" part. Poor Steve Sommers had no idea just how dedicated and professional Kathleen-Miss-Topolsky really was. But despite his gushing, he had a point; it was odd that Topolsky wouldn't show up for work, and further odd that her car was indeed missing. Reaching through his car window, he grabbed his radio and began making some calls.

A few minutes later, he hung up the handset. "What'd you find out?" Sommers demanded, having abandoned his station by the front door in favor of one nearer Valenti's cruiser. "Did you find her?"

"No," Valenti admitted. "She still hasn't reported for work, but she's not at the hospital, and there haven't been any accidents in the area."

"Then what do we do?" Sommers fretted. "What if she's fallen and hit her head? What if she accidentally took too many pills? What if—"

"Steady there," Valenti said. "Let me talk to the super. He and I go back a ways. Maybe I can get somewhere."

"Oh, thank you, sheriff!" Sommers exclaimed. "Thank you so much—"

"Don't thank me yet," Valenti cautioned. "Stay here."

The superintendent of the Grecian Garden apartments was behind the desk when Valenti entered the office, and his look of exasperation was telling. "Oh, good grief!" he exclaimed. "Did that nutty teacher go and call you? I already told him it was against the law for me to open the apartment. What part of that doesn't he understand?"

"All of it, I'd imagine," Valenti chuckled. "Mornin', Nate. Good to see you again."

"Good to see you, too, Jim, but you know my hands are tied. That tenant called in sick just yesterday, so she's hardly a 'missing person'—"

"Easy there," Valenti said. "For the record, the teacher didn't call me; I saw him looking in the windows, and stopped to see what was going on. I gather he's sweet on your tenant, which is why he's so worried about her."

"If you ask me, she's probably inside hiding from him," Nate grumbled. "And I wouldn't blame her."

"Me neither," Valenti smiled. "But the man has a point; it's mighty odd that someone like Miss Topolsky would skip work without calling, and her car's gone."

"Which could mean anything," Nate insisted, "and none of it is my business. Hell, none of it is your business, so it's definitely not anyone else's."

"I agree," Valenti admitted. "But I've got a proposal for you that may settle this for everyone. Why don't you unlock the door and we'll have a look around. I know, I know, it's technically illegal," he went on when Nate began to protest. "But it is legal for you to enter a tenant's property without notice if there's an emergency, and this might be an emergency. I won't touch a thing, I promise, and I'm sure you won't either."

"Aw, c'mon, Jim, that's stretching it," Nate complained. "What proof do we have that this is an emergency?"

"Her work habits and her missing car," Valenti said. "Thin, I know. But you and I both know that Romeo isn't going to just give up; he'll camp on her doorstep and light candles if he has to. Do you want to get rid of him, or don't you?"

Valenti waited while Nate glanced out his office window, where Steve Sommers could be clearly seen dithering away. He was on awfully thin ice here, but Sommers wasn't the only one who wanted to know why Kathleen-Miss-Topolsky hadn't reported for work today. And a peek at her apartment could tell him all sorts of interesting things about her even if he never laid a hand on a thing.

"All right," Nate said finally. "But I don't want any lawsuits over this, you hear? Have you got my back?"

"Absolutely," Valenti assured him. "We'll just say Romeo drove us to it, and I doubt he'll do or say anything to disprove that."

Nate shook his head in disgust, but grabbed a set of keys and made his way out to Topolsky's apartment, where "Romeo" greeted him with a chorus of gratitude which only seemed to make Nate more disgusted than ever. "You," Nate said severely to Sommers, "wait out here, understand? You do not cross this threshold, or I swear, I'll put you in leg irons."

"No, no, of course not," Sommers babbled, relieved that someone, anyone, was checking on his beloved. "I'll wait here. I won't move a muscle."

"I'll go in first," Nate said to Valenti, "just in case she's in there."

"Of course," Valenti said.

The door was duly unlocked, and Nate disappeared inside. Valenti and Sommers waited, calmly and nervously, respectively, for him to reappear, which didn't take long.

"Uh....sheriff?" Nate said uncertainly. "You'd better come in."

"Why?" Valenti asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm....not sure."

"What is it?" Sommers demanded. "Is she there? Is she okay?"

"She's not here," Nate said.

"Stay here," Valenti ordered Sommers. "I said here," he added sternly when Sommers twitched, resisting the urge to add the word "heel". "I'll tell you what I've found when I come back out, but only if you behave yourself."

Sommers' head bobbed up and down, albeit reluctantly. Valenti went inside....and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Jesus H. Christ," he muttered.

"Exactly," Nate said in disgust, gazing at the completely empty apartment. "Exactly when did she manage to move out without telling me?"




******************************************************




Starbucks,

Artesia, New Mexico




*Are you okay?* Brivari asked as he and Jaddo waited for the barista to make their second lattes.

*Oh, of course,* Jaddo said darkly. *I've just discovered that you've been keeping important information regarding my Ward from me, and that he's eagerly trying to get himself and his king killed. Couldn't be better.*

*What about at home? It seemed you and Ava were having words when I arrived.*

*We're always 'having words'.*

*Ah. So your relationship with her mirrors your relationship with me?*

*Is this an attempt at humor? Because it's not working.*

*Jaddo, I warned you on the way here that the lieutenant had aged considerably,* Brivari said. *I know it's a shock; it was for me too. But her mind is as sound as it ever was. Don't let appearances fool you.*

Jaddo said nothing, confirming that Brivari had correctly pinpointed at least one of the reasons he was so upset. They had just finished round one of their latest boxing match, where he'd given Jaddo a run down of the hybrids various shenanigans and near misses, while Jaddo had finally detailed the purpose of a "memory session". Telling their various tales in front of the lieutenant had given the proceedings the form of a debate with her as moderator, and greatly toned the whole thing down. But as much as Jaddo was upset at hearing what had been withheld from him, that didn't fully explain his mood. Brivari had tried to prepare him for the decline in the lieutenant's physical condition, but there was no way to cushion the fact that the young and vibrant nurse they had met decades ago was not only an old woman, but an old woman with an ill mate. If the sight of the Healer's condition had upset Jaddo, he'd been even more upset by the news that Captain Spade was effectively no longer with them. Jaddo had always prided himself on not getting attached, but he'd never managed to follow his own advice where the Healer was concerned.

"Here you go!" the cheerful barista said, producing two steaming lattes. "With extra milk for yours," she added to Jaddo. "Just the way you like it."

*Just the way you like it?* Brivari murmured. *How often do you come here?*

*Often,* Jaddo said shortly. "Keep the change," he added to the barista, setting bills on the counter.

*I never would have figured you for a big tipper,* Brivari chuckled as they headed back to their table. *No wonder she added extra milk. I'm surprised she didn't throw in an entire cow.*

*Can we drop the needless prattle and stay on the subject?* Jaddo said irritably.

"Something wrong?"

They had arrived at the table, where Lieutenant White continued to nurse her first latte. The lieutenant had been able to communicate with them using telepathic speech when Jaddo had been captive, but, unlike Dee, she'd lost that ability later in her life. She had not, however, lost the ability to read both his and Jaddo's moods, telepathic speech or no telepathic speech.

"You're needling him, Brivari," she said dryly. "Is this really the best time?"

"I was merely pointing out that I hadn't expected him to be such a good tipper," Brivari said. "Just like I hadn't expected him to sound like daddy, sending Ava off to school and missed math tests."

"You have no idea what my life has been like these past ten years," Jaddo retorted. "While you partied hearty in your mansion, I was raising a child."

"And you shouldn't have been," Brivari said. "You should have left the raising to others."

"This isn't productive," Lieutenant White broke in. "What's done is done. What happened, happened. We need to figure out what to do now that they're asking questions and actively looking for answers."

"I'll say," Jaddo grumbled. "Climbing through the sheriff's window? Breaking into a Special Unit agent's motel room? Sniffing around the Indian reservation? Outing Topolsky? Honestly, it's a wonder they haven't been killed."

"That sounds suspiciously like disapproval," Brivari commented.

"Because it is disapproval. Their behavior is reckless, to say the least."

"On that, at least, we agree," Brivari said. "Wonders never cease."

"They did manage to switch the blood samples at the hospital," Lieutenant White noted. "I wouldn't call that 'reckless', just self preservation."

"Granted, that was admirable," Jaddo allowed. "But involving yet another human? That was not."

"That human saved Max's life," Lieutenant White said.

"And revealed Topolsky, along with the girl Zan healed," Brivari added.

"Which is exactly my point," Jaddo said. "Why were the humans doing that? Rath should be doing that. Zan should be doing that."

Lieutenant White arched an eyebrow. "And Vilandra?"

"Vilandra should be staying out of their way," Jaddo said sharply. "It's the responsibility of the King and his Second to deal with their enemies—"

"Which they did," Lieutenant White broke in, "and quite brilliantly, I might add. Honestly, you act like you never made use of allies. You do remember the years between '47 and '50, don't you?"

Jaddo's expression softened ever so slightly. "Of course I do. And I will always be grateful for your loyalty, which remains unwavering. I'm not as certain of the loyalty of the hybrids' allies."

"Zan was always good at choosing allies," Brivari noted. "It was one of his true gifts."

"Then why don't we leave that to the hybrids?" Lieutenant White suggested. "What we can be certain of is that they're looking for answers, and they're willing to go to some lengths to get them. Brivari tells me the three in Roswell don't appear to have much in the way of memory. What about Ava? You told us you were attempting to awaken her memory, but you didn't say exactly how or whether it had worked."

Jaddo fell silent for a moment. "She remembers nothing without prompting," he said finally. "She needs a push."

"Interesting," Lieutenant White murmured. "With the others we always attributed it to their breakdown when they were young, but Ava never had a similar episode, so maybe not. Maybe something was wrong with their memories all along."

"Or maybe we need to jump start the process," Jaddo said. "Which is exactly what we successfully did with the others. I still maintain it would have worked if Zan hadn't pushed it too far."

"Do you mean you're connecting with her?" Brivari said in surprise. "I thought you told me you were careful to never do that."

"I was," Jaddo insisted. "But I needed to rein her in, and the best way to do that was to offer her information. Nothing else—verbal descriptions, pictures, whatever—has had any effect at all, so a connection was the only thing left. I've only done it a couple of times, and only for a moment, seconds, really, and always with something mundane, like the number of moons or the color of the sky. And she's followed the same pattern as the others; I show her something, and she remembers something else all on her own."

"And what happens when she remembers she was murdered?" Brivari demanded. "Or that she lost a child?"

"We never get anywhere near that," Jaddo retorted.

"Calm down," Lieutenant White advised. "They're not small children any more, and we all knew this day would come. Eventually they'll learn what happened to them; they have to. The question is how to get them to that point."

"We shouldn't," Jaddo said.

Brivari blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said we shouldn't," Jaddo repeated. "We shouldn't tell them a thing."

Brivari's eyes narrowed. "Who are you, and what have you done with Jaddo?"

"Unfortunately we have to," Jaddo went on, ignoring him. "Given the way they're behaving, we should tell them as quickly as possible. At the rate they're going, they'll be dead by Christmas."

"Ah, there you are," Brivari said dryly. "For a moment, I was afraid hell had frozen over, or something."

"Would you stop joking?" Jaddo demanded. "This is serious!"

"Of course it's serious," Brivari said. "It's also serious when I'm ready to act and you aren't, not to mention backwards. I thought you'd be thrilled to hear that Rath was on the hunt. I thought you'd be proud of him."

"Proud of what?" Jaddo said bitterly. "The way he put them all in danger? The way he took off for Atherton's house without telling anyone, and with a human in tow? It was bad enough that Zan used his powers in public, and on a human, no less, but now Rath? His behavior is reckless and indiscriminate. That's not Rath."

"It may well be an adolescent Rath," Lieutenant White noted. "Keep in mind that all of them are human teenagers, subject to the raging hormones and risky behaviors all teenagers are prone to."

"Which is precisely why they shouldn't be told," Jaddo said. "I have zero confidence they'll use that information wisely. But like I said, we don't have a choice. It's clear they will continue to stumble and bumble around, and they've already put themselves in harm's way far too many times for my comfort. They need to know what they're up against so they'll have a reason to keep their heads down and their mouths shut."

"I'm afraid there's no guarantee of that," Lieutenant White sighed. "There's no telling how they'll react to the truth. I certainly don't expect what happened when they were children to happen again, but given the nature of what they'll be learning, I still think we should do this in increments."

"We don't have the luxury of 'increments'," Jaddo argued. "The Unit is breathing down their necks, and everything they're doing only makes it worse."

"Correction: The Unit was breathing down their necks," Brivari said. "It pulled out, remember? And given Agent Stevens' opinion of the whole operation, I doubt they'll be sending anyone else. It's been two months, and they have precisely nothing to show for it except an outed agent."

"The Unit is not going to let this go," Jaddo said. "They may have pulled out for now, but they'll be back, and next time, they're unlikely to send an untried agent like Topolsky. She was the bottom of the heap. You don't want to know what's at the top."

Brivari paused as a prickle of unease stirred. "Jaddo," he said warily, "is there something about the Unit you're not telling me?"

"Of course not," Jaddo said quickly. "I'm just concerned. You should be too."

"He is," Lieutenant White said patiently. "And so am I. That's why we're here. So.....when do I get to meet Ava?"




*****************************************************




2:30 p.m.




"Tess, wait up!" Amanda called as Tess hopscotched through the crowds down the front steps of the school mere minutes after the final bell had rung. "We're going to the mall. Come with?"

"No, thanks," Tess said. "Gotta run."

Amanda frowned. "You sure? You'll miss all the Christmas decorations."

"It's only December 2nd," Tess said. "They'll be there till New Years."

"But we're shopping for Christmas dresses," Amanda pouted. "And we were going to visit Santa."

Good God, Tess groaned. "Some other time," she said out loud, hurrying away before Amanda could complain further. Humans had the strangest customs, and one of the strangest had to be the one with the jolly fat man in the red suit upon whose lap thousands of small children were plopped every year, only to burst into tears. And no wonder—what child in their right mind wouldn't cry when deposited on a loud stranger's lap? The fiction that this actor hired to dress up in a red suit was "real" was even more maddening, and human parents were so addicted to it that they became downright militant if faced with the prospect of their little precious finding out they had been lied to by the very people they trusted to tell them the truth. She'd discovered this the hard way while baby sitting when her charges had asked her about Santa and she'd matter-of-factly replied that Santa was a story, a conglomeration of various traditions and myths, actually, and that the guy at the mall wasn't really Santa. The kids took it well, having already pretty much figured it out, but their parents were another matter. They'd carried on like she'd ruined their children's childhoods and never hired her again. Not only that, but word had spread, effectively ending her babysitting career. Stupid humans, she thought darkly. Sometimes she thought Nasedo was right to hold them in such low regard.

But humans were not what was on her mind this sunny afternoon. What was on her mind was the man at the door this morning, or what had looked like a man, anyway, life with Nasedo having taught her that looks could be more than just merely deceiving. She had never, not once, heard anyone talk to Nasedo the way that man had talked to him, and she had never, not once, seen Nasedo behave the way he had this morning. He'd basically thrown her out of the house, and after she'd warned him that she could have sworn something had blocked her powers when she'd tried to lock the stranger out. Had that actually happened? Maybe she'd just been upset after yet another argument with Nasedo and misfired? Or maybe the stranger had had the door open by the time she'd tried to lock it? Whatever, one thing was clear: The stranger knew Nasedo. Imagine you doing domestic. Who would have thought? That was the sort of thing someone who knew you would say, and not just knew you, but had a long history with you, long enough that they would know that applying the word "domestic" to Nasedo was something of a joke. To make matters even more mysterious, she'd hung around after supposedly going to school, meaning to eavesdrop on their conversation.....only they didn't have one. They'd stayed in the same room for several minutes, Nasedo scowling, the stranger alternately calm and amused, but hadn't said a single word to each other. And when they'd left, she'd tried to follow them, but she'd lost them. They'd just....disappeared. She was used to Nasedo being able to do that, but why would this man be able to do that as well? Because he's another shapeshifter, she thought grimly. There was someone else from their world on this planet besides the others, and Nasedo hadn't told her. Why was she not surprised? He's going to tell me now, she thought fiercely as she threw open their front door and charged into the house.....only to stop dead in the living room doorway.

A woman was sitting in the living room, an old woman with silvery white hair. She looked like someone's grandmother straight out of a storybook, and she smiled at Tess as though she'd been expecting her.

"Hello, Tess," the woman said.

Tess blinked. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded. "And how do you know my name?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 29 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE



December 3, 1999, 2:20 p.m.

Artesia, New Mexico



Tess let her backpack slip to the floor as she stared at what must be an octogenarian sitting in her living room. Nasedo had taught her to keep careful track of the humans they encountered in case one of them turned out to be trailing them, and she could say with absolute certainty that she'd never seen this woman before in her life. And yet the woman certainly seemed to know her, which was extremely disquieting. It didn't do to be "known" when you lived the life she lived.

"I said, how do know who I am?" Tess repeated.

"Your father told me," the woman answered.

"And how do you know my father?"

"He's a friend of mine."

All of Tess's alarms went off. " 'Friend'?" she repeated coldly. "My father doesn't have 'friends'."

"Not many," the woman allowed. "But he does have a few, and I'm one of them."

Liar! Tess's hands clenched at her sides as she called up her power, poised to strike. Nasedo always teased her that she shouldn't need to use her hands to use her powers, but she found it helped her "aim", as it were. And it was his fault, really; he'd started teaching her to aim with her hands when she was very young, and she'd just never stopped. But if this was really an enemy, as it appeared to be, the finer points wouldn't matter....

"Tess!"

Startled, Tess's head jerked sideways. Nasedo was standing in the kitchen doorway holding a tray containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of cookies. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I...this woman says she's a friend of yours," Tess said accusingly.

"She is."

Tess's mouth opened and closed. "But....you don't have friends."

Nasedo set the tray down on the coffee table. "This is Marie," he announced as he poured a cup of tea and handed it to the woman. "She is indeed a friend of mine."

"And what about the man this morning? Was he a friend of yours too?"

"Yes."

"No, he wasn't!" Tess exclaimed. "Do you really think I'm so stupid that I can't tell when you're fighting with someone? God knows I do it enough that I should know."

"Who he is is not important," Nasedo said impatiently. "I brought Marie here because she wanted to meet you."

"Well, I don't want to meet her," Tess announced angrily. "Not until you start giving me some answers." She shouldered her backpack and stalked out of the room, only to be hauled by one arm into the kitchen, the door of which was promptly shut.

"You listen to me," Nasedo hissed. "You will display the utmost courtesy to our guest—"

" 'Guest'? We don't have 'guests'."

"Don't interrupt. You will display the utmost courtesy to our guest while she is in our house, or suffer the consequences. And you know what those consequences will be."

"You know, you actually have to do memory sessions with me in order to make them an effective threat," Tess retorted. "Threatening to take away something I don't have anyway won't get you very far. So who is that, really?" she continued. "Is it someone from school? Because my grades haven't been anywhere near low enough to—"

"She's not from school," Nasedo said in exasperation. "I told you, she's a friend of mine."

"I know perfectly well that you don't have 'friends', so that little fiction isn't going to fly," Tess said darkly.

"It's not a fiction," Nasedo argued. "Just because you haven't met any of my friends until now doesn't mean they don't exist."

"Great. So you've never had friends before, but today you've had not one, but two show up? Let me ask you this—is she human?"

"Yes."

"Okay, now I know you're lying," Tess declared. "You having a friend is bad enough, but being friends with a human? You'd have better luck trying to tell me you're friends with an Ewok."

"Enough!" Nasedo said severely. "Behave yourself, and don't embarrass me."

" 'Embarrass' you?" Tess echoed incredulously. "Since when are you 'embarrassed' by anything, never mind anything with a human?"

"Since you started acting like a rude, loud-mouthed, ill-tempered clod," Nasedo retorted. "You know how to behave; I know you do. Now get in there and make some small talk while I start dinner."

Tess gaped at him. "Dinner? She's staying for dinner?" She glanced around, spying pans on the stove, an open cookbook. "Oh. My. God. You're cooking! You're actually cooking for her!"

"So?"

"So you never do that!" Tess exclaimed. "I don't even need all my fingers and toes to count the number of times I've actually seen you cook!"

"I cooked all the time when you were little," Nasedo protested. "And besides, it's a roast; they're hard to hurt. And they take a while to cook, so I need to get it started. Go back in there and be civil."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on," Tess said hotly. "This morning some strange man waltzed in here and spoke to you like no one has ever spoken to you before, and now there's some old human woman in there that you're tap dancing around with tea and cookies and dinner. It doesn't make any sense!"

"It doesn't have to make sense," Nasedo said. "Just do it. Consider it....an audition."

Suddenly it was so quiet in the kitchen that one could have heard a pin drop. "An audition?" Tess repeated blankly. "For what?"

"You want to know more, don't you? About where you came from? About the others?"

"Yeah," Tess said warily. "So?"

"That 'old human woman' in there is the one who will decide if you're ready to know more. And if she thinks you're not....then we wait."

Tess blinked. Never in a million years would she have expected a decision like that to be handed to anyone else, never mind a human. "Why?" she demanded. "Why does she get to decide—"

"That's not important," Nasedo interrupted. "She just does. And given how badly you want to know, that's really all you need to hear. Now if I were you, I'd toddle along and do some damage control because I'm guessing you haven't made a very good first impression. Or second or third impression, for that matter."

Tess stared at him, stunned, for a good long minute before leaving the kitchen without a word, leaning against the wall outside and breathing hard. The whole world had just turned upside down, and now it appeared she'd blown a chance to find out what she wanted to know more than anything else in the world. But along with a crushing sense of dismay there was something else: Curiosity. Who was this person Nasedo thought so highly of? When had he met her? What did she know about him? And more importantly, would she be willing to share any of that with Tess?

Sounds drifted from the kitchen, pots and pans rattling, cupboard doors opening. It was clear she wasn't going to get anywhere with Nasedo, so she may as well try to get somewhere with Mystery Woman. She made a quick stop in the bathroom to wash her face and comb her hair before returning to the living room, where "Marie" was calmly sipping tea as though she hadn't overheard one hell of an argument, which she must have.

"Hello," Tess said uncertainly.

"Hello again," the woman said warmly.

After a few awkward seconds passed in silence, Tess lowered herself into a chair. "I....I'm sorry about....before," she stammered. "I was just.....confused."

"Understandably," the woman said gently.

A loud bang came from the kitchen, and Tess winced when it was followed by an expletive. Great—now she was the one who was embarrassed. "My dad doesn't cook very often," she explained hastily. "He gets....frustrated."

"Tell me about it," the woman chuckled. "But in his defense, it must be tough to cook when you can't taste or smell."

Tess's heart began to pound. No one knew that about Nasedo. No one knew he couldn't taste or smell except her, and even she didn't know why. That meant this woman knew Nasedo wasn't human. And that meant....

That means she knows I'm not human either.




****************************************************




West Roswell High




"I want to tell ya, Liz....but it's not my secret to tell."

Alex Whitman ignored the crushed look on Liz Parker's face as he climbed on his bicycle. A short time ago, he would have been horrified if he'd caused her to look like that. A short time ago, he would have decked anyone who made her look like that. Then again, as he'd pointed out mere seconds ago, a short time ago he would have named her as the one he'd trust with his life....until now. Until she'd turned into someone else, someone who lied, and used people, and made promises she didn't keep.

It was that last one that really had Alex's dander up as he pedaled down the high school's wide curving driveway. For a brief moment there after he'd hacked Topolsky's e-mail, he'd felt on top of the world. Granted he'd also needed clean shorts, but still, he'd felt like James Bond. Surely Liz would tell him the truth. Now that he'd proved his mettle by providing both blood and brains, surely she'd tell him whatever deep, dark secret had stayed her tongue and loosened Kyle's. Surely he deserved it. Surely she'd see that. And she'd promised, so surely she'd keep her promise.

Only she hadn't. He was every bit as much in the dark now as he'd been before, and mad as a hornet to boot. Add to that the interrogation this morning with Sheriff Valenti and the assistant principal, and he was even madder. Why was it always him on the hot seat? Because you're a chump, he told himself darkly. A wimp. An easy mark. Christ, if this were elementary school, they'd still be stealing his milk money, only they wouldn't have to steal it—he'd be giving it to them. Why was he such a pushover? Because Liz has always been such a good friend, he admitted reluctantly. Part of him simply didn't want to acknowledge that, all of a sudden, she was using him. Regretfully, perhaps, but using him all the same, and all because she was starry-eyed over some hunk, even if Max Evans wasn't exactly what came to mind when he heard the word "hunk".....

Alex slammed on his brakes and swerved, narrowly missing the sheriff, who had just stepped squarely into his path. "Hey!" he sputtered. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry," Valenti said. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"Yeah, well, walking in front of a moving bike is bound to startle anyone," Alex said.

"Like I said, I'm sorry," Valenti repeated. "You okay, son? Anything on your mind?"

Alex blinked. "So you just walked in front of my hurtling bicycle to ask if I have anything 'on my mind'?"

Valenti smiled faintly. "No. I was trying to flag you down before you left for the day because I have a couple more questions for you about Miss Topolsky. Got a second?"

"I already answered your questions," Alex said warily. "What now?"

"I just had a couple more," Valenti shrugged. "I've been tracking down her last movements, and a few more things came up. Shouldn't take long."

Sure, Alex thought wearily, climbing off his bike and following the sheriff back inside. Just what he wanted, to be back in the Max Evans/Liz Parker crosshairs. "Bring the bike in with you," Valenti advised, holding the door open for him. "I'd hate to make you lock it up again."

The bike safely stowed against a wall, Alex took a seat in the very same room he'd been in earlier today, minus the vice principal this time. It was odd, but somehow he felt less safe with only Valenti in the room. Like he needed a witness. Or maybe Valenti needed a moderator.

"Okay, so, the last day Miss Topolsky was here," Valenti began, pulling out a sheaf of papers covered with what looked like illegible scribbles. "You said you met with her and went over your schedule for next semester."

"Right."

"And you also discussed an AP computer tutorial she'd suggested you take."

"I already told you all this," Alex said. "So what's changed?"

Valenti fanned himself with the top paper on the stack. "Man, but it's hot in here. Mind if I readjust the fan?"

Alex shrugged, and Valenti took his time turning the fan to "high" before resuming his seat. "The school and I have been going over Miss Topolsky's notes," Valenti went on, "and we noticed a couple of things we couldn't figure out. Like the fact that Miss Topolsky was absolutely meticulous about her record keeping, and yet she didn't take a single note about your schedule for next semester. Not one."

Alex felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. "So?"

"So it's odd that she would meet with you and not write anything down. Nothing in the school's computer, nothing in her office. She has notes on every other conversation she had with a student...except for yours."

Because we didn't discuss my schedule. "Sheriff, I have no idea what she did or didn't write down," Alex replied. "It's not exactly considered good manners to look over a teacher's shoulder when they're writing."

"So she was writing?" Valenti asked.

"Yeah," Alex said quickly.

"On what?"

"What do you mean, 'on what'?"

"What was she writing on?" Valenti explained. "Or in? Was it a notebook, or a pad of paper, or....what?"

"I....I don't know," Alex said, trying not to sound as flustered as he felt. "I wasn't really paying attention."

"But she was writing," Valenti clarified.

"She had a pencil in her hand, and it was moving."

"Pencil?" Valenti paused. "Interesting. All the notes we found were in pen."

Alex began to sweat, not hard in this heat wave, even easier now. This is exactly how they got you, with little details like this. They got you talking, and then you walked right into it. Like he just had.

"Look, I don't know why she didn't....why you didn't find what she wrote down," Alex said. "Why would I?"

"Right," Valenti said slowly. "Right. But you're sure you discussed next semester's schedule with her?"

"I told you that," Alex said irritably, "like, a million times."

"True," Valenti agreed. "And you talked about the AP Computer Tutorial?"

"I told you that too."

"Yes, you did," Valenti said, plucking a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the sweat off his neck. "You did. But funny thing is, she signed you up for that AP computer tutorial several days ago. Everything's all signed, sealed, and delivered. Application even has your signature on it. So it looks like you already knew about that tutorial....right?"

Damn. "Of course I knew about it," Alex said. "Supposedly you have to be a junior to take it, so it was a real feat that she managed to get a sophomore into it. I've talked to her about it lots of times. Does signing up for it mean I can't talk to her about it anymore?"

"No, no," Valenti said quickly. "I was just curious as to why you'd be discussing it after it was a done deal."

Alex was quiet for a minute. "You know what I'm curious about, sheriff? I'm curious as to where all this is going. Because I already told you about the last time I saw Miss Topolsky, but you're still fishing. Why don't you save us both a lot of time, and just come out and ask me whatever it is you want to ask me?"

Alex forced himself to look Valenti straight in the eye, and the sheriff returned his stare without flinching. He hadn't the faintest idea what the sheriff could have on him unless Miss Topolsky had brought him in on the blood sample business. She'd said no police, but that had been something of a lie because it had turned out she was federal police. Whatever was going on, it was to his advantage to stop Valenti's patient needling before he inadvertently blurted out something he shouldn't. Although he had to admit that, right about now, he was so sick of this "hide Max Evans" business that he wouldn't have minded just spilling if it didn't mean he'd go to jail for impersonating an accident victim.

"Okay," Valenti said. "Here's the thing. You said you met with Miss Topolsky to discuss your schedule, but she didn't have you listed in her appointment book—"

"I didn't make an appointment. She called me down."

"Uh huh. That was the first time you saw her. What about the second?"

Alex's throat constricted. "What 'second'?"

Valenti leaned across the table. "Miss Topolsky was seen leaving the school at about 4:15 p.m. that day....just a few minutes after someone saw you go into her office."

Alex clamped his mouth shut and thought furiously. He hadn't mentioned that second visit to Valenti because he thought no one had seen him. Obviously he'd thought wrong. But it wouldn't do to suddenly do an about face now, so he'd just have to stick to the story.

"I wasn't in school then," Alex said, hoping desperately that it was truly just a some "one" who had seen him and not a whole pile of someones. "I left school right after the last bell."

"Where'd you go?"

Should I lie? Alex thought. He could say he'd gone straight home, but if anyone had seen him.....

"I went to the Crashdown," he answered.

"The Crashdown was closed that afternoon."

"Yes, it was."

"So why'd you go there?"

"To meet a friend."

"And who was that?"

Alex's jaw clenched. "Unless you're charging me with a crime, how is this any of your business?"

"I know this sounds like prying, son, but I'm just doing my job," Valenti said gently. "I've got conflicting stories here, and even though it's probably just a bunch of honest mistakes, I need to sort this out. Whoever saw Miss Topolsky right before she left might be able to shed some light on where she is and why she hasn't come back. Now....who were you meeting?"

Ever-so-slightly mollified, Alex answered, "Liz Parker."

Valenti's eyes flicked up. "Liz Parker?"

"Yes, Liz Parker," Alex repeated. "The Liz Parker whose parents own the Crashdown. The Liz Parker who's a classmate of mine."

"I see," Valenti said slowly. "So....she was there? You and Liz Parker were both at the Crashdown after school?"

"Yes," Alex said impatiently.

"For how long?"

"I don't know....a couple of hours? I didn't time it. I usually don't when I'm hanging with friends. Do you?"

"No; no, I don't," Valenti answered, unruffled by his temper. "But here's the thing; the witness who saw you—"

"Thought they saw me," Alex corrected.

"Right. The witness who 'thought' they saw you here around the time Miss Topolsky left also saw Liz Parker. She said the two of you arrived together."

Alex felt his fists clench beneath the table. "Well, that can't be, can it? Because Liz and I were at the Crashdown together. So whoever you're talking to either got the people wrong or the time wrong."

"Perhaps," Valenti allowed.

"Not perhaps—they did," Alex insisted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get home. If you want to keep talking, you're welcome to follow me. I'm sure my mom wouldn't mind."

Valenti's eyes dropped. "No, that's all right. You've been very helpful, Alex, very patient. I appreciate it." He paused. "Guess I'll have to talk to Liz."

"Yeah," Alex said without batting an eyelash. "You should."

Alex felt Valenti's eyes on him as he walked out of the office, retrieved his bike, and rolled it outside; he even would have sworn the sheriff was watching him out the window as he pedaled off. That last remark about talking to Liz had been meant to scare him, but he'd managed to scare the sheriff as well; he hadn't missed how Valenti had dropped the whole thing just as soon as he'd mentioned his parents. The sheriff suspected, but he didn't have anything that would pass parental muster—yet. Although that could change, Alex thought, spying Liz in the distance as he reached the road. If Valenti got to her, she might tell a very different story. He really should let her know what had just happened because what Liz said could affect him too.

He really should.....but he wouldn't.




****************************************************




Artesia, New Mexico




"Don't reach," Jaddo said sternly. "Ask if you want something, and we'll pass it."

Marie kept her eyes on her plate as Tess flinched, having been caught in the middle of a boarding house reach to retrieve the green beans. Wordlessly, Marie fetched the bowl and handed it across the table.

"What do you say?" Jaddo prompted.

"Thank you," Tess said faintly.

"You're welcome, dear," Marie answered.

A pained silence followed, the latest in a long line of pained silences. It was clear that Jaddo and Tess didn't do much in the way of entertaining judging from the way both had scurried around and bickered with each other over everything from the pot roast to the napkins. In the end they'd done an admirable job, producing a beautifully set table complete with candles and a tasty meal. But through it all ran a thread of uneasiness, of panic, almost. Jaddo was panicking because he wanted his charge to be a credit to him, and Tess was panicking because she didn't want her guardian to be unhappy with her, which it seemed he usually was.

"So did Tessie tell you about her grades?" Jaddo asked. "She's one of the top scorers in her class."

"That's wonderful," Marie smiled. "What's your favorite subject, Tess?"

Tess kept her eyes on her plate. "Myself."

Jaddo broke into a nervous laugh. "What a kidder! Always has a joke, my Tessie."

"How do you mean?" Marie asked, knowing perfectly well that the girl wasn't joking.

"Well....I guess you could call it genealogy," Tess answered. "That's what Amanda calls it. She's a friend of mine, and her family came over on the Mayflower, or something. She's really into her family tree."

"And is that what you're into?" Marie asked. "Your family tree?"

"I—"

"How about some dessert?" Jaddo suggested, cutting her off.

"We're not done eating dinner," Tess protested.

"But it will take awhile to pull it out of the fridge and get it ready, so I think you should start now," Jaddo said in a steely tone.

"I'm not done eating dinner," Tess said in a no less steely tone.

Jaddo's expression darkened. "Why don't you—"

"Why don't you let her finish?" Marie interrupted. "What she was saying, I mean. I asked her a question, and I'd like to hear the answer."

A silent battle of wills ensued as Marie gave Jaddo a pointed look, Tess glared at Jaddo, and Jaddo glared at both of them. God, but this brings back memories, Marie thought. How many times had she sat in that awful white room amidst a three-way boxing match between Jaddo, Pierce, and herself? And now here she was in a similar situation with two of the same participants and a worthy stand-in for the third, minus his psychosis, of course. It was downright weird.

"You were saying?" Marie prompted. "About your family tree?"

Tess glanced at Jaddo, who gave her a don't-you-dare look, a useless gesture as it turned out. "I don't know the first thing about my family tree," she said, ignoring him. "And I want to."

"Of course you do," Marie said. "We all want to know that."

"Sometimes one shouldn't know certain things," Jaddo declared.

"True," Marie agreed. "But it's awfully hard to wait....isn't it?"

Tess's eyes swung to Marie, and the look she gave her was heartbreaking; had it been anyone else, Marie wouldn't have been surprised if she'd burst into tears. Instead, Tess nodded mutely, reached for her glass....and knocked it over. Milk splashed everywhere, soaking the tablecloth, the remains of the roast, the beans, even the candlesticks.

"Oh, God, I'm....sorry," Tess stammered, grabbing her napkin. "I....I'm so sorry."

"No harm done," Marie said as Tess frantically tried to soak up the mess with her napkin. "I expect we'll have better luck with paper towels. I'll get some from the kitchen."

"I'll get them," Jaddo offered.

"I'm really sorry," Tess said as he disappeared into the kitchen. "I...we....don't usually have guests, and my glass isn't where it usually is, and...." She stopped, flushing furiously.

"No need to apologize," Marie said, using her own napkin as a dam for an advancing tide of milk. "It was an accident."

"Try telling him that," Tess muttered.

"I will," Marie replied. "Just watch me."

Tess shot her a curious look, then glanced toward the kitchen door. "You're not afraid of him, are you?"

"No. Why?"

"Everyone's afraid of Nasedo," Tess said. "Even me." She paused. "Especially me."

Marie nodded. "He's difficult to live with, isn't he?" she said softly. "I know. Believe me, I know. I lived with him for years."

"When?" Tess asked eagerly.

"When he was held prisoner by the army, and I was a nurse stationed at the base where he was captive."

Tess's eyes widened, and she dropped into her chair. "So that's how he knows you! I knew he was a prisoner, but he never talks about it. Ever."

"I imagine it's not a fond memory," Marie said. "It certainly isn't for me."

"But how did you—"

The kitchen door flew open behind them. "You used the last of the paper towels and didn't replace the role," Jaddo accused. "Don't do that, especially if you plan on being clumsy."

"I didn't 'plan' on being clumsy," Tess retorted. "It was an accident."

"An avoidable one," Jaddo said.

"And a harmless one," Marie added. "Let's not cry over spilled milk, shall we?"

"Clean it up," Jaddo ordered, handing the paper towels to Tess.

Tess's eyes flashed. "I have a better idea. Why don't you fess up? What's really going on here? Because this has nothing to do with spilled milk."

"I'll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it," Jaddo said severely. "Until then, you'll just have to wait."

"I'm always waiting!" Tess exclaimed angrily. "And your nurse here just told me more in one sentence than you've told me in my entire life!"

Tess slammed the paper towels down on the table and stalked out of the room, closing her bedroom door with a bang that rattled the house. "Nicely done," Marie said dryly.

"I'm sorry," Jaddo said self-consciously. "She's behaving—"

"The way she always behaves," Marie finished. "Because you're behaving the way you always behave. Some things never change, do they?"

"I just wanted to have a nice dinner," Jaddo complained. "She ought to be able to behave herself for one dinner."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, this isn't about the dinner," Marie said in exasperation. "I never asked or expected you to go to all this trouble. This is about you wanting to prove that you've raised her right, to be vindicated for taking her when she was little."

Jaddo sank back into his chair as he threw her a look that could have frozen boiling water, a look with which she was very familiar and ignored completely. "I'm not here to judge what you did," Maria went on, "and it wouldn't do any good anyway because there's no undoing it. I'm here to assess her readiness to handle the whole story."

"And?"

"And you shouldn't be so hard on her. It's possible to sympathize with her wanting to know while still not telling her. The two aren't mutually exclusive."

"I thought you weren't here to judge," Jaddo grumbled.

"I said I wasn't here to judge you taking her," Maria corrected, "although that should never be taken to mean I don't have an opinion on the subject. I am here to judge her current circumstances, and I'm afraid those circumstances are more likely to make her do something she shouldn't."

"I have to be hard on her!" Jaddo insisted. "The Special Unit has been literally breathing down our necks. She needs to know how to recognize them, how to run, how to hide, how to defend herself."

"And why exactly was the Special Unit 'breathing down your necks'? If you'd disappeared, the odds that the Unit would have ever come near you are practically nil. They were 'breathing down your necks' because you were pursuing them."

"Now you sound like Brivari," Jaddo said in disgust. "But I don't cut our enemies a pass. I don't ignore them and allow them to multiply like rabbits. That was the choice he made. I made a different choice."

"Yes," Marie said, "and that choice put Tess in danger. She's had to run and hide because you put her in a position to do that. The other three didn't have to."

"Until now," Jaddo said, "when they put themselves in danger and found themselves ill-equipped to handle it. So all four hybrids wound up pursued by the Unit, but only mine knows how to handle herself. And your point was....what?"

"My point was that the others haven't had to do that until now," Marie said patiently, "when they're arguably better prepared to understand why it's happening and successfully manage it. Tess has had to hide since childhood...and that takes a toll on a person. She's never lived in one place for any length of time. She has no family, no other adults she can talk to, no roots, no home base, no long term relationships other than you. These are the things that give us stability and a sense of perspective. They're not luxuries, they're absolutely essential....and you haven't provided them."

"Fine," Jaddo said crossly. "So I'm not perfect, and never claimed to be. But what about what I have provided? Tess knows she's special; I've told her since childhood that she has a higher purpose. She knows her time here is merely a prelude to something bigger, and when the time comes, she'll be able to leave this all behind because she never became attached to it in the first place. She knows how to use her powers; it takes practice, you know, and all the more so for the hybrids because they're technically more powerful than Brivari and I are."

"Does she knows that?" Marie asked.

"Of course not. I'm not stupid; I would never give a child that kind of leverage. My point is there are gaps in the others' lives as well."

"I agree," Marie said. "Which is precisely why I think you should—"

"Wait even longer," Jaddo grumbled.

"—bring them together," Marie finished. "We should come up with a strategy as soon as possible."

"Thank God!" Jaddo said with obvious relief. "Waiting could have been catastrophic."

Marie was quiet for a minute. "You know," she said finally, "that's the second time you referenced waiting being dangerous."

"Because of what they're doing," Jaddo said, "what they're willing to risk to get answers. They're a danger to themselves. Surely you see that."

"In some ways," Marie agreed. "But it's more than that." She leaned in closer. "I know you," she said firmly, "almost as well as Brivari. I'll wager I spent more time with you than he ever has....and I know when you're hiding something. And so I'll ask you the same question he asked: Is there something you're not telling us?"




*****************************************************



11 p.m.

FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.





"Goodnight, Mr. Freeh."

"Goodnight, Al," Freeh called to the parking attendant.

"Sure you don't want me to pull your car around?" Al asked.

"No, thanks," Freeh said. "Even the FBI director has to do some things for himself, or he gets lazy."

Al chuckled behind him as Freeh made the short walk to his car. Oh, to be a parking attendant. There were days when he'd kill to have nothing more on his mind than whether or not the garage was full or if there were enough small bills in the cash register. That was simplifying things, of course; at that wage grade, Al was probably worried about making his mortgage payments and putting his kids through college, two things that never even crossed Freeh's mind.

His parking space was close, almost too close; he would have enjoyed a longer walk free of the confines of his office, the always ringing phone, and the never empty in-basket. The button on his fob produced the familiar squawk and flash of lights, and he climbed into the driver's seat, ready to blare the radio all the way home and think of nothing more than whatever cheesy song was playing at the moment.

"Working late?"

With an instinct honed by years of training, Freeh flattened himself on the front seat, pulled his weapon, and spun around, his foot on the alarm. He was just about to push it when his pupils adjusted and he saw his uninvited guest clearly.

"Pierce?" he said in disbelief. "What in God's name are you doing in my car?"





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 30 next Sunday.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!





CHAPTER THIRTY



December 3, 1999, 11:10 p.m.

FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.




"Evening, director," Pierce said blandly as though they'd just bumped into each other at a D.C. café. "You really shouldn't keep such long hours; it's bad for the psyche."

"Cut the small talk and tell me what the hell you're doing in the back seat of my car at 11 o'clock at night," Freeh said tersely without lowering his weapon.

"I might be more forthcoming if you weren't pointing a gun at me."

"And I might not be so twitchy if you hadn't just jumped out of the proverbial bushes," Freeh retorted. "This goes way beyond hoodwinking my secretary. This is stalking."

"Very dramatic," Pierce commented.

"Very accurate," Freeh corrected. "Answer my question or I'll press this alarm, which will have the entire security detail of J. Edgar's building come running, not to mention the parking attendant over there who's the spitting image of 'Lovin' Al' from Working. Which is to say he takes his job very seriously."

"So you're well versed in musicals. Gotta love a man with culture."

"I'm warning you, Pierce—"

"You know why I'm here, Director," Pierce said. "You won't see me, so I decided to get....creative."

"You call breaking into my car 'creative'?"

"I didn't break into anything. It was unlocked."

"You call scaring the ever-loving shit out of me 'creative'?"

"I call it getting your attention. And it appears I have. So are you going to listen to the Special Unit's most experienced agent, or are you going to blow him off again?"

Silence. Freeh's gun lowered slightly, then the rest of the way. "You've got five minutes. Talk fast."

"Topolsky blew it. Roswell's empty. I want to take her place. There—three sentences. Is that fast enough for you?"

"About as fast as you got back from Santa Fe," Freeh answered. "I sincerely hope you're wracking up some serious frequent flyer miles, agent, and being mindful of your health. Sitting for long periods can cause blood clots, or so they say."

"If I'm a stalker, you're a comedian," Pierce said darkly. "This isn't funny, Director. We've already had one greenhorn in there, so the last thing we should be doing is sending yet another untried, inexperienced agent...."

Pierce stopped when Freeh held up a hand. "I gather Agent Stevens blew you off? Well, of course he did. I gave the order to pull out of Roswell. Permanently."

Now it was Pierce's turn to look blank. "You....permanently?" he repeated, that apparently being the part which caught his attention the most. "You mean you're not sending anyone to replace Topolsky?"

"No. Not even an untried, inexperienced agent. Happy?"

"You can't be serious!" Pierce exclaimed. "You can't—"

"I can, and I have," Freeh broke in. "Let's inventory. This all started with a kid named Max Evans allegedly healing a gunshot wound in September. The report came from Sheriff Valenti, who got it from two dubious sources he was eager to believe and a blood-stained uniform which didn't contain enough blood to indicate a gunshot wound. We've been squatting in Roswell for the past two months and despite all the surveillance, Max Evans has done precisely nothing to indicate that he's anything other than what he appears to be—an American teenager. And don't start on me about Marathon," Freeh went on, interrupting Pierce as he started to protest. "There are scads of people, hundreds, no, thousands of people who would have loved to find what James Atherton had stashed in his basement. That field trip doesn't make Evans an alien. Topolsky thought his blood sample was switched, but she couldn't prove it. Hell, even if the sample was switched, that doesn't make him an alien. So we basically have squat to show for our presence in Roswell. Is that a fair assessment, agent?"

Pierce stared at him a moment in shock. "So that's how this is going down," he said finally. "This is the argument Stevens is using to bury his embarrassment and shut the whole thing down....and you're buying it. You've drunk the Kool Aid. Instead of admitting Agent Topolsky screwed up, you're claiming there's nothing there anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters," Freeh said sharply. "It always matters when an agent's cover is blown. And before you go off on Kathleen Topolsky again, may I remind you it was Agent Summers who hired her, the very Agent Summers whom you hold in such high regard? If she's such a screw-up, what does that make Summers?"

"She wasn't properly trained!" Pierce objected. "You gutted the Unit after Summers died—"

"Oh, so this is my fault?" Freeh said. "Well, of course it is. It's always my fault, isn't it?"

"Yes!" Pierce said fiercely, vaulting forward in his seat. "The Unit can't function properly without a leader, and you are not behaving as a leader!"

"Given that I didn't even know it existed to be led until Summers died—"

"Don't give me that," Pierce retorted. "You're the Director of the FBI, for God's sake. Black ops is our stock in trade. Don't sound so surprised. I'll bet there are other Unit's out there with other mandates that you haven't even discovered yet."

"Tell me about it," Freeh said darkly. "And when I find them, they'll be met with the same hearty welcome as yours."

"What makes you think you'll find them?" Pierce asked bitterly. "Now that they've seen what you've done to my Unit, they'll never rear their heads."

"Which might be just as well," Freeh said angrily. "Listen to yourself, agent—'my' Unit? My Unit? Since when is it your Unit? This is what happens when there's no oversight, no accountability to anyone, even the country you purport to serve; the resulting sense of entitlement overwhelms every ounce of judgment you may have once possessed. I don't give a damn about your pedigree, or your tenure, or any other statistics you care to wave in my face. The Unit is not 'yours'. It belongs to the FBI, which belongs to the United States Government, which belongs to the people of the United States....and that's an equation you forgot how to do a long time ago."

Pierce's expression clouded. "I apologize; I misspoke. I'm just so concerned—"

"Save it," Freeh snapped. "This is the last, I repeat, the last time you and I will discuss this subject. I am the head of the Special Unit, and I will make any and all decisions regarding it. If and when I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. If I haven't asked for it, I don't want it. And if I ever catch you lurking around my office, my car, my home, or anywhere within a mile of wherever I happen to be at the moment, I'll fire your ass from this agency and make certain no other is stupid enough to hire you. Are we clear?"

Pierce stared at him, stony- faced. "Clear," he ground out.

"Good. Now get out of my car before I have you arrested for anything and everything I can think of."

Smoldering, Pierce climbed out of the car. "You'll regret this, Director."

"Is that a threat, agent?" Freeh demanded.

"It's a simple statement of fact," Pierce retorted. "You've got a monster on the loose in Roswell, and you're not doing a thing about it. You're supposed to protect the American people, not go off on some hissy fit because you were late to the lunch table."

"Agent Pierce," Freeh said deliberately, "I firmly believe you represent as big a threat to the American people as any alien who's walked this planet, maybe bigger....because you should know better. Now get out of my sight, and stay out."




***************************************************




December 4, 1999, 5 p.m.

Valenti residence




Pick it up.

Jim Valenti sat on his living room couch, staring at the telephone in front of him like it might eat him. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was a grown man, for heavens' sake, and not just any grown man, but a sheriff, a law enforcement officer. He'd chased down burglars, arsonists, wife beaters, and even had a bona fide terrorist pass through town once. He was known for running an extremely tight ship at Roswell's many tourist events just like his father had. He was an old hand at tricking people into revealing more than they'd intended to. This should be easy.

But it wasn't. He continued to stare at the telephone, his hands knotted in front of him, finally resorting to pacing while throwing furtive glances in the infernal appliance's direction. He hadn't felt this nervous since he'd dropped his dad off at the nursing home ten years ago. His palms were actually sweating and, passing the mirror, he realized with horror that there were large sweat stains beneath the arms of his shirt. Granted it was sweltering outside, but still, this was nuts.

Maybe it'll help if I change, he thought, hurrying to the bedroom, grateful for any excuse to separate him from that accusatory phone. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe being in uniform was messing with his mojo. This wasn't sheriff's business, it was regular guy business, so dressing like a regular guy might help. So would a little practice, he admitted ruefully as he stripped off his uniform. Regular guy business this may be, but he was dreadfully out of practice. This was one aspect of being a regular guy which had passed him by for far too long.

Now much more comfortable in a tee shirt and shorts, he reluctantly renewed his position in front of the phone and found there to be no improvement; he was every bit as nervous, and even felt a bit naked with his knees hanging out. Another trip to the bedroom to change into blue jeans fixed the knee problem, but not the nerves problem. For God's sake, just do it! he admonished himself harshly. There was no way to make this "comfortable". Less uncomfortable, perhaps, but that was about as good as it was going to get. Impulsively he reached for the receiver and lifted it to his ear, one finger going for the buttons even before it got there. He'd better do this fast before he lost his nerve.....

"Hello?"

Valenti was so surprised, he nearly dropped the phone. "Hello?" he said startled. "Who's this?"

"It's Hanson, sir," Hanson said, sounding faintly put out that Valenti hadn't recognized him.

"Oh....sorry, Hanson. I....I was just about to make a call, and the line didn't ring."

"Didn't ring on this end either, sir. You must have picked it up at just the right moment."

"Right," Valenti said doubtfully, all his gumption gone right out the window. "What'd you want?"

"Well, you told me to let you know right away when I was done looking into the Kathleen Topolsky business."

"And?"

"And she literally just disappeared. Her cell phone hasn't been used since she left, no one saw or heard anything the night she moved out, she hasn't used a credit card anywhere....she's just gone."

"About what I expected," Valenti murmured.

"You did, sir? Why's that?"

"Never mind. Thanks for looking into that, Hanson. If there's nothing else—"

"One more thing, sir. I re-interviewed Annette, and—"

"Who?"

"Annette Wilson. One of the receptionists at the high school?"

"Oh, right....right," Valenti said, passing a hand across his forehead.

"Mrs. Wilson insists she saw Alex Whitman and Liz Parker in the hallway after school on the day Miss Topolsky was last seen."

"No surprise there," Valenti muttered.

"But Kristin, her co-worker, wasn't sure," Hanson went on. "She was there at the same time, and she didn't see them."

"Either of them?"

"Either of them, sir. Annette claims that Kristin was in the hallway only briefly and just missed them. And then Kristin got all huffy, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Valenti broke in. "We can't confirm it. No need to go into girl talk."

"Uh....right, sir. Just trying to be thorough."

"I know you are. Look, Hanson, I'm kinda in the middle of something, but I appreciate you letting me know. Anything else you may find out can probably wait until tomorrow morning."

There was a pause before Hanson said, "Sure, sir. You have a good night now."

"You too," Valenti said before hanging up the phone and resuming his fretting. It certainly wasn't news to him that Alex Whitman had been lying to him; Alex had the kind of poker face that could lose a man a lot of money. The problem was he couldn't prove Alex was lying, but that problem would have to wait; a more pressing one presented itself at the moment. It took him another five minutes to muster the courage to pick up the phone again.

Slam!

"Jesus!" Valenti swore, nearly dropping the phone again before hastily replacing it in its cradle.

"Dad?" Kyle said warily, car keys dangling from one hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Valenti said wearily. "Just please don't slam the door like that. You scared the shi—stuffing out of me."

Kyle smiled faintly. "You do know I hear far worse things than 'shit' in the first hour of school each day, right?"

"Not from your old man, you don't," Valenti said.

"Is anything wrong?" Kyle asked. "You sound upset."

"I am upset!" Valenti exclaimed. "I keep trying to do something, and I keep getting interrupted."

"What is it you're trying to do? Can I help?" Kyle's eyes narrowed as Valenti shook his head vigorously. "Okay, now I know something's wrong. You sound weird, you're acting weird, and you look....."

"What?" Valenti demanded. "I look what?"

"Flushed," Kyle finished. "Embarrassed. Caught with your pants down. So what's up?"

"Nothing's 'up'," Valenti said irritably. "Would you please just move along and let me get on with it?"

Kyle shrugged slightly. "Sure. Whatever."

Valenti waited until Kyle was in the kitchen before reaching for the phone again. In a way, it was good that Kyle was home; now that he had a semi audience, he'd have to finish what he'd started. The phone rang just before he picked it up.

"Hello?" Hanson's voice came again. "Is that you, sir?"

"Hanson, what the hell are you doing on the line again?" Valenti demanded in exasperation. "This is the second time I've gone to make a phone call only to find you here!"

"Weird, ain't it, sir?" Hanson said cheerfully. "I mean, what are the odds? I mean, if we tried to pull off something like this, actually tried, you know, like, practiced it or something, I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that we couldn't—"

"What did you want?" Valenti snapped.

Hanson stopped mid-sentence. "Oh. Right. Sure. Well, there was one more thing....."

A couple of minutes later, Valenti hung up the phone. "Kyle!"

No answer. "Kyle, I know you're eavesdropping in the kitchen," Valenti said. "Come on out here before I drag you out."

There was a pause before Kyle's hand-in-the-cookie-jar face appeared in the kitchen doorway. "That was Hanson, my chief deputy," Valenti said. "Hanson tells me there's a rumor about a party being held this weekend in an abandoned building. You know anything about that?"

"No," Kyle said quickly.

Valenti's eyebrows rose. "Kyle, believe me when I say that I know what it's like to be the sheriff's kid. But I also know how dangerous abandoned buildings can be. They might not be structurally sound, might be fire hazards, might be full of asbestos, might be harboring wild animals. Sheriff's kid or no, I'm sure you wouldn't want it on your conscience if someone were to fall through a floor or get bitten by a coyote. Just tell me the truth, and I won't rat you out."

Kyle shrugged. "Sorry, Dad. Haven't heard a thing."

Valenti eyed his son for a moment. "Uh huh," he said finally. "Well....if that changes, make sure you spill. Parties are fine, but not when they involve dangerous conditions and trespassing."

"Of course. Sure thing. I'll let you know," Kyle said in a rush, escaping to his room as fast as his feet would carry him. Which was just as well because it left Valenti alone with the phone once again and the privacy to finally place his call. This time he actually managed to lift the receiver and dial the number without incident, the other end ringing once, twice, three times, four. What if no one answers? he thought, sweating all over again. Should he leave a message? He hadn't considered that. Maybe he could just ask her to call him back? But what if her daughter answered? That would be awkward....

"Hello?"

"Amy!" Valenti exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm. "It's you!

"Which shouldn't come as a shock," Amy's voice said dryly," because I live here. Who's this?"

"What? Oh! It's Jim," Valenti babbled. "You know, Jim Valenti?"

"The Jim Valenti who arrested me and tossed me in jail because he thought I was cute?"

"Uh....yeah," Valenti said, blushing furiously. This wasn't going well. Why on earth did she have to bring that up? Why on earth had he told her about it at all?

"So, Jim-Jim-Valenti," Amy went on in a faintly amused tone, "what can I do for you?"

"You....can go to dinner with me tomorrow night," Valenti said in a rush. "You know, just two old friends catching up. That sorta thing."

There was a pause which Valenti could have sworn lasted at least a year but was probably only a couple of seconds. "Dinner?" Amy blurted, suddenly sounding about as flustered as he felt. "I'd...I'd love to! Uh....what time were you thinking?"

"I could pick you up around 7 or so," Valenti said. "I know what it's like to get home from work and have to reconnect with your kid and just chill for a little while, so why don't we both take the time to do that, and then go have a bite."

"That would be wonderful, Jim," Amy said, sounding like she meant it. "I'll look forward to it."

"So will I," Valenti said. "See you then."

"See you then. Goodbye, Jim."

"Goodbye, Amy. Hope you have a good day tomorrow."

"You too."

Valenti hung up the phone and sagged onto the couch. His heart was pounding, his palms were sweating, and he was dearly wishing he could take back that last bit. Have a good day? Honestly, what had he been thinking? That's the sort of thing you said to your dentist or your drycleaner, not your date. There was nothing like asking a girl for a date to make you feel like you were fifteen again, and he hadn't asked anyone on a date for a couple of decades. But she'd said "yes", so he couldn't have screwed things up too badly, and he tried to remember that as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. By the time he hit the kitchen to make dinner, he was feeling pretty good about the whole thing, so good that he forgot all about Hanson's tip about an illegal party.




*****************************************************




Evans residence




"Where is it?" Isabel muttered, kneeling down in front of her closet. The box she'd grabbed caught the edge of a dress, pulling a number of others along with it as she hauled it out. "Damn!" she exclaimed, spending the next couple of minutes untangling several hangers' worth of clothing. One of these days, she was going to have a walk-in closet, a really big one that could store all of her clothes, or at least one season's worth....

"Isabel! Max! Where are you?"

"In my room, Mom," Isabel called.

"Dinner's in ten minutes."

"Okay."

"I mean it. Ten minutes. Don't be late."

"All right, already!" Isabel said in exasperation. "I'll be there! Where is it?" she added to herself as she rifled through the closet. She'd had it just a few weeks ago when she'd needed it for Maria, and it didn't have legs, or so she thought....

"Isabel?"

Now what? "Don't you ever knock?" Isabel said to her brother, who was standing right behind her.

"The door was open—"

"People still knock, Max. It's what they do. Even people like us."

"Sorry." Max sank down on the bed, watched her paw through another box. "Something wrong?"

"I lost something. Or misplaced it, rather. I couldn't have lost it; it never left the room."

"Lost what?"

"I'll find it. Did you want something?"

"You sure you're okay?"

"Fine," Isabel said shortly. "Just great. The FBI is chasing us, but whatever. No worries."

"It's been a couple of days, and nothing's happened," Max pointed out. "They haven't sent anyone else—"

"You mean you think they haven't sent anyone else. How would we know? We didn't know about Topolsky until Maria and Michael went poking around motel rooms."

"She didn't have anything on us, Iz," Max said gently. "That's why she was leaning on Alex so hard, to get something."

"And she came this close," Isabel said, holding up a thumb and forefinger. "As usual, all that separates us from disaster is a nearly invisible thread."

"As long as something does, I'm okay with that," Max said. He was quiet for a moment, staring at his hands. "Actually, Michael and Maria are kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What about them?" Isabel asked absently, nearing the bottom of another box.

"I was talking to Michael today, and he said that he and Maria....."

Isabel stopped rifling and looked up at her brother. "That he and Maria....what?"

Max's hands worked in his lap. "It seems that he and Maria have a....'thing' going."

Isabel blinked. "A 'thing'? Max, what is a 'thing'?"

"Well...I gather they're....seeing a lot of each other," Max said uncomfortably.

"Which means what, exactly?" Isabel demanded. "Which parts of each other are they seeing?"

"C'mon, Iz—"

"No, answer me, Max! What's going on?"

Max hesitated, pinking slightly. "I guess they've been....making out a lot lately," he said finally, deliberately avoiding Isabel's gaze. "Liz saw them in the Crashdown. I saw them go in the eraser room—"

"The eraser room?!" Isabel exclaimed. "And just how far did it go in the eraser room?"

"He didn't say," Max admitted, "although he did say it was more than just kissing."

"Good God," Isabel breathed, abandoning the box and rocking back on her knees. "I hope you told him to stop."

"I reminded him that we were supposed to talk to each other before acting on any urges," Max said.

"And what did he say?"

"That I'm not the first person he thinks of when he has urges."

"But that's not the point," Isabel said in exasperation. "We don't know what will happen when we do....that....with a human. To us or the human. God, I don't believe it!" she added in disgust. "You and Liz, I would have believed, but Michael?"

"Well, that was kinda the second thing I wanted to talk to you about," Max said. "There's this party at the old soap factory, and I thought....well, I thought Liz and I might....um....might go and...."

Isabel's eyebrows rose. "See more of each other's parts?"

"That is not what I meant," Max said reproachfully.

"But you were heading in that direction," Isabel said, her voice rising. "I don't believe this! We've got the Federal Bureau of Investigation—federal police—after us, and you're asking for permission to suck face with Liz at some party?"

"I wasn't looking for 'permission'," Max said.

"Then why did you bring it up?" Isabel demanded. "Why ask me? I mean, Michael's out there going for his 'urges', and you look ready to go for yours, so why even bring me into it at all?"

"Because I wanted to talk to someone first," Max said, rising from the bed and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Michael and Maria have been....you know....and nothing bad has happened. No one got sick, or exploded, or whatever. I always thought maybe it might be dangerous, like we weren't compatible, or something, but maybe—"

"Maybe we should keep our minds on the subject," Isabel said crossly, "which is us being chased by the FBI. That's way more important than parties, or....or...." She stopped, gazing at the latest box at her feet. "There it is!" she exclaimed, plucking something out. "I must have put it back in the wrong place."

"What did you want with last year's yearbook?"

"Nothing," Isabel said evasively.

Max frowned. "You're dreamwalking again, aren't you?"

"No."

"Iz, don't lie to me—"

"I'm not lying. I haven't dreamwalked anyone since Maria."

"Fine," Max sighed, "so you're going to dreamwalk someone. Someone like....Alex?"

Isabel tucked the book under her arm. "So what if I am?"

"So you shouldn't do that. It's dangerous."

"No, Max, it's dangerous not to," Isabel corrected. "The only reason Topolsky didn't get what she wanted was because of Alex; if he caves, we're toast, and given how angry he is with Liz and Maria, he might very well cave. Someone has to find out how close he is to doing that, and since he's not talking to either Liz or Maria, they can't find out. And I find it more than a little ironic that I'm the only one doing anything at all about this while you and Michael go cavorting—"

"We're not 'cavorting'," Max protested.

"Who's cavorting?"

It was their mother, standing in Isabel's bedroom doorway and looking quizzically at both of them. "Doesn't anyone in this house knock?" Isabel sighed.

"You should close your door if you want privacy, sweetheart," Diane said.

"You try," Max muttered.

"And it's dinner time," Diane went on. "I said ten minutes, I meant ten minutes. It's been ten minutes."

"All right, we'll be there in just a minute," Isabel said, throwing a murderous look at her brother.

"No, you'll be there now," Diane said firmly. "And we'll discuss 'cavorting' later."

"Great," Isabel said in disgust after she left. "Now I'll have Mom on my case."

"Only because you don't shut your door," Max said. "Which we should, because some day she might hear about more than just 'cavorting'. C'mon—we'd better get to dinner before she comes back. And leave Alex alone," he added, tossing the yearbook back in the box. "If you're so sure he's hanging by a thread, the last thing you want to do is give him nightmares about us."

"I don't give people nightmares," Isabel protested. "And Mom doesn't count; I was new at it. I've perfected the technique since then. I just observe. That's all."

"You're spying on people," Max said bluntly. "That's not cool, Isabel."

"Says the one who put us all in danger by healing Liz Parker," Isabel retorted.

"I saved her life," Max pointed out. "You're snooping."

"To save ours," Isabel argued. "And I wouldn't have to if you hadn't—"

"Kids?" a voice called.

Isabel stopped abruptly in mid-sentence, and a moment later, Grandma Dee appeared in the doorway. "I just thought I'd give you a heads up," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Your mother is fretting because you're not out there, but she's got her hands in the dinner, so your next visitor will be your dad."

"We're coming," Max said immediately, Isabel following. Both of them knew that life would get much gnarlier if their punctilious father got involved. "What's Mom on about anyway? Are she and dad going somewhere tonight?"

"No, you have a guest," Grandma said as they walked down the hallway. "And I don't mean me."

"Guest?" Isabel said. "What guest? Mom didn't say anything about a guest."

"She's an old friend of the family," Grandma explained., "and she's only in town for a short while. You know how your mother gets when she has to cook on short notice."

"Yeah, it can get a little hairy," Max agreed. "Maybe we can....Iz? What's wrong?"

Isabel had stopped, her eyes wide. "Are you all right, honey?" Grandma asked. "You look terrified."

"She's fine," Max said quickly. "I'll handle it. Go tell Mom and Dad we're coming. Please, before they come looking for us."

Grandma hesitated for a moment before nodding and walking off, throwing a concerned look in Isabel's direction as she rounded the corner. "What is it?" Max whispered as soon as she was out of earshot. "What's wrong now?"

"Max, don't you get it?" Isabel whispered. "An 'old family friend' turning up now, right now?"

"So?"

"So it's probably another FBI agent!" Isabel exclaimed.

"Isabel, calm down," Max ordered. "If it's an old friend, then Mom and Dad know her, so unless the FBI has been after us for a very long time, she can't be an FBI agent."

Isabel considered that for a moment. "Maybe," she said finally. "But we can't be too careful. We have to suspect every single new person who comes into our lives."

"No," Max said firmly. "We can't live in fear. I don't want to live my life in fear, and you shouldn't either."

"Easy for you to say," Isabel retorted, "with your head full of parties and propositioning and—"

"Kids!" Diane called in exasperation. "Now!"

"Don't make me come back there," Philip warned.

"C'mon," Max said, taking her arm and steering her down the hall. "We don't want Dad out here. And what are we gonna do? Even if it was Topolsky, we'd still have to go out there and act like regular kids."

But it was no leggy blonde sitting at the dinner table with their parents and grandparents, rather an old woman with gray hair. "There...see?" Max whispered. "It's just an old lady. The FBI doesn't hire anyone that old."

"Finally," Diane sighed. "Max, Isabel....I'd like you to meet Dr. Johnson."

"So nice to see you again," the old lady smiled.

Isabel stiffened as all of her alarms went off. " 'Again'?"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Family stuff next weekend, so I'll be posting Chapter 31 on Sunday, April 3.

Hello to everyone reading!




CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

-

December 4, 1999, 10:45 p.m.

Evans residence



"And then Philip signed the charge slip with a stick figure," Diane said. "A whole line of stick figures, actually. And no one noticed. He just handed them the charge slip for thousands of dollars worth of airline tickets, and they said, 'Thank you, sir,' and never even noticed."

Laughter erupted around the living room. "My goodness," Marie chuckled. "Did they ever figure out he hadn't actually signed anything?"

"I don't think anyone even looks at those," Philip said. "Guess not, because no one ever called me on it."

"And if they did, as soon as they found out he was a lawyer, they probably wouldn't bother making an issue of it," Anthony added.

"My goodness, but you're becoming quite the graffiti artist," Dee said dryly. "My son? Who would have thought?"

"You always wanted me to lighten up, Mom," Philip said. "You always thought I was too serious and straight-laced."

"The kids cured you of that," Diane said. "It's hard to be that serious around children."

"I'm often asked if I regret not having children," Marie remarked. "And I do sometimes. Although I certainly wouldn't have had the career I've had if I'd been a parent, and neither would Steven." She paused as an awkward hush fell over the room. "Ah, I'm sorry," Marie went on. "I didn't mean to be a wet blanket."

"No, no!" Diane protested. "It's just....well, we're all still a little in shock over what happened to your husband. I'm so sorry, Dr. Johnson. Is there anything you need, anything we can do for you?"

"That's very kind, but no," Marie answered. "I have access to the finest medical care available. Steven had a long, full life. We all have to go somehow, and I daresay this way is far easier on him then it is on me."

"I'd agree with that," Dee said. "My mother's mind is going, and sometimes she knows it. There are many days I think it would be better for her if she didn't."

"Well, I appreciate you taking some time to come see us," Diane said warmly. "I honestly wasn't expecting you to traipse all the way across the country. I just wanted someone I trusted to take a look at Max's medical records and reassure me that our little hospital didn't miss anything. I'm sure they could have mailed them to you, or e-mailed them, or something."

"That's quite all right," Marie said. "I'd prefer to see them in person. And you needn't worry; Max appears to have come through his accident completely unscathed."

"Thank goodness," Philip said. "By the time I heard about it, it was all over, but Diane was scared half to death."

"Between that and the house being robbed, we've had quite a time these past months," Diane added.

"Eh, they didn't take much of anything," Philip shrugged. "They missed all the really good stuff. It was almost as if they were after something else and just wanted to make it look like a run-of-the-mill robbery."

Three pairs of eyes flicked toward each other, unnoticed by either Philip or Diane, who was patting her husband's hand. "It would have taken several trips to cart both the TV and the stereo out," she noted, "so whoever did was determined."

"Mom? Did you—"

Heads turned. Isabel was standing in the living room doorway in her pajamas. "Oh," she said, taken aback when she spied Marie. "You're still here?"

"Gracious, Isabel, manners!" Diane admonished. "She's an old friend; of course she's still here."

Isabel flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"Of course you didn't," Marie said. "No harm done."

"What did you want, honey?" Philip asked.

"I just wanted to know if Mom signed that permission slip I left on the kitchen counter," Isabel said, never taking her eyes off Marie.

"I not only signed it, I put in your room," Diane said. "Which is probably why you didn't find it."

"Oh....right. I'll go look for it." Isabel paused awkwardly for a moment. "Well.... g'night. Nice to meet you."

"And you too, Isabel," Marie said.

"Gosh, I'm sorry about that," Diane said to Marie after Isabel left. "I don't know why she's so twitchy these days."

"Me either," Philip murmured. "Max isn't."

"Probably something at school," Dee said lightly. "She's a teenager. Who knows?"

"But that wouldn't explain why she's jumpy around Dr. Marie," Philip said. "Mom, you never explained why you didn't want us to tell the kids that Marie was here when they were found. Maybe telling them that would help?"

"I doubt it," Dee said quickly. "I think it would just make them more self-conscious."

"Have they been asking about that period in their lives?" Marie asked.

Philip and Diane exchanged glances. "No," Philip admitted. "They haven't."

"Best to leave it be until they do, then," Marie advised. "It's always better to let the children bring it up."

"Then that's what we'll do," Philip agreed as Diane nodded.

Dodged that one, Dee thought, letting out a private sigh of relief as Philip's damnably accurate radar swung elsewhere. He'd honed in twice in the past five minutes, and that didn't count the number of times he'd noted Isabel's odd demeanor at dinner. And odd was the word for it; in a weird sort of reversal, it had been Max who had been friendly and talkative while Isabel had been silent and suspicious, casting not-so-furtive glances in Marie's direction and reluctantly answering even the simplest of questions. She'd fled the table early, even skipping dessert, which was practically unheard of, while Max had lingered and chatted. Talk about backwards.

"Oops, there's the phone," Diane sighed as the phone jangled in the kitchen. "Who could that be at this time of night?"

"Probably for me," Philip said. "I'll get it."

"Diane, I was wondering if I could see some pictures of the children when they were younger?" Marie asked as Philip left the room. "Maybe some photo albums or school pictures? I feel like I missed so much, seeing them so young and now almost all grown up. If you wouldn't mind."

"Of course I don't mind," Diane said. "I'm just sorry I didn't think of that sooner. Excuse me for a minute; the albums are in our bedroom, I think."

"Take your time," Marie smiled.

Lots and lots of time, Dee added, resisting the urge to push her daughter-in-law out of the room. This was the first time she'd seen Marie since she'd left to visit Jaddo, and she was dying to know what happened. "Finally!" Dee whispered, scooting closer as Diane disappeared down the hallway. "I thought we'd never get a minute alone. What happened yesterday? Did you meet Ava? Did you see Jaddo? I haven't laid eyes on him since '89. What do you think of Max and Isabel? Did you—"

"Slow down, dear," Anthony advised. "She can't answer everything at once."

"Yes, I saw Jaddo," Marie answered, unruffled by Dee's impatience. "And I met Ava. Or 'Tess', rather. That's what he calls her."

Anthony blinked. " 'Tess'? Where'd that come from?"

" 'Tess' is ten times better than 'Isabel', and a hundred times better than 'Maximillion'," Dee said dryly.

"Thank God Philip and Diane agreed to use 'Max'," Anthony agreed.

"I have no idea where the name came from, but he can't very well go around calling her by her real name," Marie said. "They're living in Artesia."

"That's close!" Dee said. "I didn't know he was so close. So what's she like?"

"Smart," Marie said. "Beautiful. Curious. And suspicious, defiant, and prone to fighting with her foster father."

"Good Lord," Dee groaned. "He made a 'Mini-Me'."

"She knows what she is," Marie went on, "or at least knows she isn't human. She also knows she has powers; she tried to use them to lock Brivari out of their house."

"Max and Isabel also know they're not human and that they have powers," Anthony noted.

"And Michael," Dee added.

"Then they're all at the same point as far as that goes," Marie said. "And they're all curious and looking for answers, sometimes in dangerous ways. Unsurprising since they're also all adolescents."

"But does Ava...I mean 'Tess'....remember anything?" Dee asked. "That was the big question, whether Jaddo's way of raising her was better than Brivari's way of raising the others."

"Depends," Marie answered. "On the subject of sheer memory, Jaddo appears to have called that one because Tess hasn't remembered on her own. It would appear some kind of 'jump start' is needed, just as he suspected."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Anthony said.

"But Brivari's prediction that life with Jaddo would be less than uplifting proved correct," Marie continued. "I know Michael's foster family didn't last, but it was good for several years, and Max and Isabel obviously have a stable, loving home. Tess has spent her life running from the Special Unit, and it shows."

"Oh, dear," Anthony said sadly.

"But they are who they are," Marie went on, "and given their behavior, we need to bring them back together. Right now the plan is to let them all finish the school year where they are; Tess, in particular, needs stability in her life. Then she and Jaddo will move here next summer, introductions will ensue, and they'll attend school together in the fall. And somewhere along the way, we'll have to tell them the truth, or part of it, anyway."

"Who will tell them the truth?" Anthony asked. "I'm assuming the Warders still can't get near Max."

"I wouldn't," Marie advised. "Not yet. Not until he realizes the extent of his power and how seriously it can be misused."

"We can talk to Max," Dee said, looking at Anthony. "He can't order us around."

"And the Warders can talk to any of the others," Marie said. "I don't know exactly how we're going to do this, but we have time to figure it out."

"Assuming Isabel doesn't explode, that is," Anthony sighed. "It's upsetting to see her so suspicious."

"What did you expect?" Dee asked. "They just discovered their guidance counselor was an FBI agent."

"Which is no doubt why she's so skeptical of me," Marie added. "They'll be skeptical of anyone now, and under the circumstances, I can't blame them."

Footsteps approached. "Found them!" Diane called, appearing in the living room, arms laden with photo albums. "Or some of them, anyway. These will get you started, and I'll grab a few more. There's at least one more in Isabel's closet; I stopped by her room, but she's already asleep, and I didn't want to wake her. It was funny," she went on depositing the albums on the coffee table, "but she fell asleep with her yearbook open beside her. Like she was reading and just...conked out."

"What page was it open to?" Dee asked.

"It was just class pictures," Diane answered. "Maybe she's got a crush on someone. Back in a sec."

She disappeared down the hall again as Marie arched an eyebrow at Dee. "What's going on?"

"She's in someone's dream," Dee sighed. "I caught her doing it once before. Urza used to be able to do that. He came into my dream right before he died."

"Urza," Marie murmured. "I'll never forget her Warder. He was the first alien I met."

"Is it wise to wait until next summer?" Anthony said doubtfully. "Max healed someone in public, they found that message left in the cave, Isabel's 'dreamwalking', the FBI is hovering. How can we be sure they'll last that long?"

"We can't," Marie sighed. "And you weren't the only one who noticed that."




*****************************************************



Artesia, New Mexico




"Next summer!" Jaddo exclaimed. "That's months away! We can't hold off the FBI for that length of time!"

"The Unit is gone, remember?" Brivari said. "And speaking of 'gone', where's Ava?"

"At a friend's house for a 'sleepover'," Jaddo answered. "She's still angry with me after last night."

"Perhaps using Lieutenant White as a threat wasn't the best of ideas," Brivari suggested.

"Yes, well, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it?" Jaddo said sourly. "The prospect of meeting the others is the only thing that keeps her in check these days."

"Which is how you can 'hold her off' until summer," Brivari noted. "If she knows you're moving to Roswell and sees progress toward that goal, that will keep her behavior in check."

"On the contrary, if she knows we're moving, she'll take that as license to do whatever she wants," Jaddo countered.

"Always thinking the best of everyone, aren't you?" Brivari said dryly. "Request her help developing a strategy for meeting the rest of them, and rescind that if she misbehaves. Happy?"

"Not even remotely," Jaddo groused. "We're waiting much too long. Again. Here I thought the lieutenant had grasped the urgency of the situation when she said they should be reunited 'as soon as possible', and then it turns out she wants to wait half a year."

"Which is as soon as she feels it's possible," Brivari said. "She's already making a huge concession; remember, she wanted to wait until they were 18 or 20 before bringing this up."

"Yes, but her 'huge concession' doesn't make it any safer to wait."

"You keep saying that, that it's not 'safe'," Brivari said. "But why isn't it safe? The Unit has retreated, after finding nothing of substance and being exposed, no less. What makes you think they're going to rush back in? Is that what you've heard from your contacts?"

Jaddo flopped down on the sofa opposite Brivari and sighed. "No. My contact says Topolsky was discovered by Valenti, who threatened to expose her."

"Quite possible," Brivari allowed, "although we know that's not what happened, or at least not all that happened."

"He also says that Agent Stevens argued against any further Unit presence in Roswell for the same reason you just gave—Topolsky didn't find anything, or anything concrete. Supposedly Freeh bought it."

"Louis Freeh? What does he have to do with this?"

"He's the Director of the FBI," Jaddo answered.

"I know that," Brivari said, "but why is he weighing in on a Unit matter? The Special Unit has always operated independently; even if the Bureau's director was aware of their existence, he was never in charge of it. Who's directing the Unit now?"

"The way I understand it, Freeh is."

Brivari frowned. "That's odd. Do you mean to tell me they never replaced Agent Summers after you offed him last spring?"

Jaddo arched an eyebrow. " 'Offed' him? I would prefer the term 'executed'."

"Whatever you call it, the point is, he's dead. Dead and not replaced. Why not?"

"He was replaced," Jaddo said, "with Freeh."

"But it's never been done that way before," Brivari persisted. "Why now?"

"How should I know? Maybe they're still looking for a suitable candidate."

"They shouldn't have to look; he should be right there," Brivari said. "The successor was always waiting in the wings, hand-picked by the current Unit head and typically his right-hand man, or second, if you will. Who was that?"

"Summers kept everything very close to the vest," Jaddo said. "I don't think he had a second, not the way the others did."

Brivari was quiet for a moment, fingering a coaster on the table nearby. "You've set up quite the household," he said at length. "Newspapers. Flowers along the front walk. Cute little towels in the kitchen. The only thing missing is the white picket fence. But don't think for one minute that I don't know this is just a façade, a part you're playing. You know how the Unit operates, so I shouldn't have to tell you that Agent Summers' successor should have taken his place immediately upon his death. Why didn't he? Did you kill both of them?"

Jaddo eyed him for a moment in silence. "I killed Summers and whomever was in the room with him at the time," he answered finally. "If that was the successor, that would explain it."

"Yes," Brivari said doubtfully. "Although that doesn't explain why you don't seem to know who his successor was. Either that, or you just don't feel like sharing."

"Here we go," Jaddo said in disgust. "Conspiracy theories."

"In which case," Brivari went on, ignoring him, "I'll have to wonder....again.....what it is you're not telling me about the Unit. Because it's clear there's something you're not telling me."

"This isn't about the Unit, Brivari; it's about my Ward. I know Rath. I may not have known him as a child, but everything I know about him as adult tells me that Rath won't wait politely to find answers. He won't put his questions on a shelf to await our convenience. He's already acted foolishly several times—"

"And appropriately," Brivari broke in.

"When a crisis presented itself," Jaddo said. "Admirable, yes, but that's a crisis, which will hopefully remain rare. I'm more concerned about the day-to-day idiocy that has him running off with humans or climbing into sheriff's offices, all without telling his king. Do you really think he's just going to give up his quest to find out who he really is?"

"He might now that he knows who's been following them."

"Maybe," Jaddo allowed. "Or that may just galvanize him further. Rath's instinct will be to hunt down their enemies, not avoid them. That's you. Rath is more like me."

"Is that supposed to make feel better?"

"Very funny, and no," Jaddo said sharply, "it's not. It's supposed to make you realize how dangerous it is to leave them hanging for any length of time. Tess and I should move to Roswell immediately."

"The Healer—"

"Wants us to wait," Jaddo interrupted. "Yes, I know."

"—feels that Ava needs more stability in her life than you've given her," Brivari finished. "She fears the effect of uprooting her so soon after she was already uprooted."

"Whatever that effect may be, it will a damn sight better than the 'effect' of having the Unit catch up with them while they're napping," Jaddo argued.

" 'Napping'? I thought the hybrids weren't napping. I thought that's why you were upset."

"You know what I mean," Jaddo said impatiently. "Tess's 'stability' is not our top priority, not with the Unit in the picture."

Brivari regarded Jaddo levelly for a moment. "And there we have it again," he said softly. "Fear of the Unit. The Unit that failed to produce useable evidence, the Unit that just had one of its agents outed, the Unit which, by your own admission, has retreated. And yet still you fear it....and you won't say why. Are you sure there isn't something you want to tell me?"

Jaddo stared at him hard for several long seconds. "I'm sure," he said finally.

Brivari nodded. "I see." He rose from his chair. "One of these days, Jaddo, I'm going to find out what you're hiding from me. And when I do.....it had better not be anything dire."





*****************************************************




December 5, 1999, 5:30 p.m.

Valenti residence




"Where is it?" Jim Valenti muttered, pawing through the medicine cabinet with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. He managed to knock over three bottles of pills, a plastic cup filled with disposable razors, and two tubes of acne cream before coming up short and heading for the cupboard under the sink. When a cursory examination produced nothing, things came flying out: Toilet paper, mouthwash, shampoo, bar soap, toilet bowl cleaner, conditioner....conditioner? Who on Earth used conditioner? He and Kyle didn't even bother with hair dryers, and the shampoo they used could strip oil off an engine chassis. What else was in here that he didn't know about?

The bathroom door opened, knocking over a row of bottles domino style. "What's all this?" Kyle asked in bewilderment as Valenti caught the nearest bottle.

"Don't you knock?" Valenti asked irritably, holding up the bottle of conditioner. "And what's this?"

"You were making an awful lot of noise, and it's....hair conditioner," Kyle answered, pinking.

"I can see that," Valenti said with exaggerated patience. "What's it doing in here?"

"Well, Dad, I would imagine it's in here because this is where people wash their hair."

Valenti's eyes narrowed. "Really?" he said in mock surprise. "I had no idea. And here I thought you didn't like girlie hair products."

"It's not 'girlie'!" Kyle protested. "It's just that that stuff you buy, that shampoo, is really....harsh."

" 'Harsh'?"

"It makes my hair all dry," Kyle complained. "So I bought the conditioner to fix that."

Valenti glanced at the bottle, which sported a voluptuous blonde wearing little more than her hair. "Sure you didn't just like the model?"

"I'm sure," Kyle said, snatching the bottle out of his hand. "I bought it with my own money, so it's really none of your business. How about you? Why is all the stuff in the bathroom on the floor?"

Now it was Valenti's turn to blush. "I was....ah....looking for something."

"Really?" Kyle said in mock surprise. "I had no idea! And here I thought you were just bored."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Kyle," Valenti said darkly.

"It doesn't become you either," Kyle retorted, bending down and plucking something out of the pile. "You're pulling my chain about 'girlie', but isn't this yours?"

"There it is!" Valenti exclaimed. "I couldn't imagine where that had gotten to...."

He stopped as Kyle stared at him. "I'm all set," Valenti said brightly, piling the contents of the cupboard back inside. "Thanks for your help."

"Help?" Kyle repeated blankly. "Why were you looking for cologne? Since when do you use smelly stuff?" He paused, eyeing his father. "And why are you all dressed up?" he added suspiciously. "You haven't worn that shirt in ages."

"It's just a shirt," Valenti said. "I would hardly call this 'dressed up'."

"It's a shirt that needs ironing," Kyle clarified. "I know because I had to iron it the last time you wore it, oh, about a year and a half ago. You're wearing a fussy shirt and crawling around on the bathroom floor looking for your Brut? What's up?"

"Nothing's 'up'," Valenti said irritably. "Is there a law against looking nice once in a while? Guess not, because you don't look so bad yourself. One might even think you were dressed for a party, say, one in an illegal location that you don't know anything about?"

Bingo. Kyle's eyes flared in alarm, then dropped. "Out with it," Valenti said severely. "What's going on this weekend?"

"Okay, just so we're clear, what happened to, 'Gee, son, I remember how hard it was to be a sheriff's kid'?" Kyle demanded. "I thought you weren't going to put me in this position?"

"You may as well tell me now because I'm going to find out anyway," Valenti persisted.

"You sure about that? Teenagers can be pretty stealthy. Look, I'm not trying to get snotty," Kyle added quickly when Valenti's expression darkened. "I'm just saying don't go looking for trouble where there isn't any. Whatever it is you think is 'going on', it's no problem if there's no trouble.....right?"

"Whatever is going on hadn't better be going on tonight," Valenti said. "This is one night I don't want to be interrupted."

"Why not?" Kyle asked innocently. "Does this have anything to do with your fancy shirt and cologne?"

Valenti's mouth opened, then closed. "If I get the call," he said firmly, "I hadn't better find you there. Or even find out you were there."

Kyle nodded slightly. "Noted." He walked away, paused, looked back. "Have a good time."

Valenti felt himself flush, and the mischievous smile on Kyle's face made it clear he'd seen it. He looked down at the bottle of cologne in his hand, his fingers leaving prints in the dust which gave away how seldom it had been used. He really, really wanted his dinner with Amy tonight to go well, and the fastest way to have it not go well was to have to traipse off in the middle of it. But his staff should be able to handle just about anything, right? He should call Hanson and make sure he wouldn't be disturbed for anything but something truly important.

Jesus, but I'm out of practice at this, he thought heavily, sinking down on the toilet seat. No amount of ironing or cologne would be able to cover up the fact that he hadn't been on a date in years.




*****************************************************




Evans residence





I've never been on a date.

That simple fact clanged like a bell in Max Evan's mind as he surveyed the shirts laid out on his bed, trying to choose one to wear to the party tonight. Unlike his sister, whose closet was stuffed to the gills, clothing wasn't exactly his strong suit. There were precisely four shirts to choose from, three button-downs and one polo, a birthday gift which he'd never really liked. There was something about the floppy fabric combined with the buttons at the top that made it look like the polo just couldn't make up its mind as to whether it was formal or casual. Rejecting that one left him with the button-downs in black, white, and a navy so dark it may as well have been black. White was too stark and formal; that left navy or black. Was black too....black? Did it matter since the navy was almost black anyway? Was there any rational reason he should be quibbling over colors?

Because I've never been on a date, he thought, answering his own question, nor would he have envisioned himself ever being on a date. Being on a date meant letting someone get close to you, something he never would have thought he'd be comfortable doing. Isabel dated all the time, of course, with the line of potentials stretching around the block at least twice. But it was all very casual, and no one ever got close to her, not really. Max wasn't certain he could do that. Anyone he didn't want to get close to, he also didn't want to date. Anyone he wanted to date was someone who, by definition, he wanted to get close to....and he couldn't. It was a conundrum from which he had never escaped, and since he had no comparable line of interested girls stretching around the block, he hadn't had to.

And then the unthinkable had happened: He'd saved Liz Parker, effectively outing himself and what he was....or wasn't....and not only had she not freaked, but she actually liked him. The girl he'd watched from afar for years now knew what he was, wasn't frightened by it, and liked him. If you'd asked him back when school started about the odds of that happening, he'd have said there were no odds because things like that never happened. But then Michael and Maria had taken the next logical step, and all of a sudden a world of possibilities had opened up. Even as he'd been taking Michael to task for doing exactly what he wanted to do with Liz, he'd been thinking inside, is it possible? And if it was possible, should he? Wasn't it irresponsible for them to get involved with someone, knowing what they were? But what if that someone already knew what they were, like Liz and Maria? Did that make a difference?

"And somewhere down the line, we're gonna get hurt," he'd told Liz. "I can live with that. I just couldn't bear to hurt you."

"But that's not your decision, is it?" she'd asked.

I guess not, he'd answered. And now here he was, all excited and nervous and stuck between black and navy. He wouldn't have said this out loud for any amount of money, but it was worth it, all of it, Topolsky and Valenti and the FBI, just to find himself facing his first date. Well, not exactly a date; more like they were both just going to the same party. Maybe it would help if he thought of it that way. Maybe that would quiet the part of him which thought he might be making a huge mistake that Liz would have to pay for. Hell, it might even help him pick out a shirt.

"Do I know her?"

Max jumped. His mother was standing in the doorway with a small smile on her face. "I....what?" he stammered.

"I was just wondering," Diane said, gesturing toward the shirts on the bed. "Who's the lucky girl?"




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 32 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!



CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


December 5, 1999, 7:30 p.m.

Evans residence



"Girl?" Max repeated stupidly. "What girl?"

"The one you're getting all dressed up for," his mother answered.

"I'm not getting 'all dressed up'."

Diane gave him a knowing smile. "Honey, I know you, and you're not the type to fuss over clothing. Agonizing over which shirt to wear? That's Isabel's territory. For a minute there, I had to double check that I hadn't stopped at the wrong room."

"I still wouldn't call picking a shirt getting 'all dressed up'," Max protested.

"Poor choice of words," Diane said lightly. "But....do I know her?"

"You've probably seen her.....around," Max allowed. "But we're not....we're just going to be in the same place at the same time."

Diane nodded sagely. "Okay. Well, this is further than I got with your sister. She wouldn't even give me that much."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm guessing Isabel is going wherever you're going," Diane replied, "and whoever she's going with must be a doozy because she's dressed to the nines."

Max blinked. "She is?"

"Oh, yeah. Red sequins for miles. Okay, well....Isabel's waiting for you in the driveway. Have fun wherever you're going....and with whoever you're not going with. Oh, and....the blue one."

"What?"

"The blue shirt," Diane clarified. "It goes better with your eyes. and the black is just too....black."

Exactly what I was thinking, Max thought as his mother left the room, hanging the rejected shirts in his closet before heading outside. Isabel was already in the jeep, and his mother hadn't done her justice. From the va-va-voom dress to the mane of hair, she had done some serious fussing.

"Why are you all dressed up?" Isabel asked when she saw him.

"Me?" Max said in disbelief. "What about you? You look you're in a beauty pageant."

"Gee, thanks, brother dear," Isabel said dryly. "I'm just going to a party."

"This is way more than 'just going to a party'."

"No, it isn't," Isabel protested. "I just wanted to look....nice."

Max's eyes narrowed. "Does this have something to do with Alex? Because if this is your idea of 'old fashioned charm', it's not. Old fashioned or charming."

"Good thing I don't rely on you for my self esteem," Isabel said tartly. "Can we go now, please?"

Max sighed and climbed into the driver's seat. "I didn't mean to say you don't look nice because you do. It just seems a bit....much."

"Well, maybe I'm in a 'much' kind of mood," Isabel said breezily. "Girls are like that; we like to dress up. Unlike guys, who struggle to grasp the concept of bathing and shaving. Not you," she added quickly when Max raised an eyebrow. "I didn't mean you."

"I didn't think you did," Max answered. "I was just hoping this wasn't part of the way you intended to 'take care of the Alex situation'."

"Relax, Max," Isabel said. "I know where the lines are, even if Michael doesn't."

"Michael's having second thoughts," Max said as he backed out of the driveway.

Isabel's head whipped around. "He is? He said that? Thank God," she sighed when he nodded. "One less thing to worry about. Unless....you and Liz....?"

"It's not a date," Max said firmly. "We're just going to be at the same party. Everybody's going to be there."

Isabel's eyes flicked down to his mother-approved shirt, then up again. "Right. Everybody."

They rode in silence the rest of the way. The old soap factory looked dead when they got there save for the vehicles parked haphazardly around it, and it wasn't until they got inside that a wall of noise hit them. Not music, though, not yet; that project was underway off to one side, where a few guys were kluging a sound system together...and one of them was chatting up Liz.

"I'll see you later," Isabel said.

"Yeah. Later," Max answered tonelessly, his eyes fastened on Liz. God, but she was pretty.

"Max?" Isabel said, her eyes having followed his. "You know where the boundaries are, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Good. Because the last thing we need tonight is more trouble."

Isabel took off in the opposite direction, and Max waited until she was out of sight. Sorry, Iz, he thought. I'm not looking for trouble, but....I've been waiting for this for a long time.




*****************************************************




The Lamplighter Restaurant




I've been waiting for this for a long time.

"Jim?"

Jim Valenti abruptly snapped back to the present; his glass was in mid-air, and Amy DeLuca was gazing at him curiously. "I'm sorry," he said, abashed. "I must have zoned for a moment."

"Really?" she teased. "So what's more interesting than me?"

Valenti smiled. "Absolutely nothing."

Amy blinked, reached for her water glass, took a sip. "That's sweet," she said after she'd recovered. "But something must be, or you wouldn't be zoning."

"No; no, I was zoning because I was thinking...." Valenti stopped, shook his head. "Nah."

"Thinking what?" Amy asked. "What were you thinking?"

"It's silly," Valenti insisted. "You'd laugh."

"James Valenti, don't tell me what I will or will not do," Amy said tartly. "Keep it to yourself if you must, but not because you think I'll laugh, because I won't."

Valenti smiled faintly. "Okay. I was just thinking that I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"Waiting for what?"

"For a pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman," Valenti said. "One who isn't throwing things at me."

Amy's eyes widened, and for a moment, time stood absolutely still. Then she burst out laughing, one hand to her mouth, the other clutching her water glass. "Told ya you'd laugh," Valenti said.

"No!" Amy protested. "No, I'm not....well, I mean, I am, but....it's not what you think."

"Oh? So what is it?"

Amy flushed wildly, her face suddenly matching her dress. "I have to confess that the notion of me being 'beautiful' is pretty darned funny."

"Really? I thought it was the 'throwing things at me' part."

"That's pretty funny too," Amy admitted. "I could hurl a roll at you if that'd make you feel more at home."

Now it was Valenti's turn to blink; Amy looked and sounded deadly serious, clutching a roll the way a pitcher holds a baseball. And then, as if on cue, they both burst out laughing, leaning over their dinner plates and giggling like teenagers, drawing curious stares from every direction including that of their waiter, who glided over as though sensing trouble.

"Do you need anything?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, thank you," Valenti chuckled. "We're fine."

"Maybe some more rolls?" Amy asked innocently.

They both lost it again, drawing a pointed stare from the waiter this time, who nonetheless reappeared a minute later with another basket of rolls, prompting a fresh round of giggles just as they'd managed to stem the tide of the first. The waiter withdrew, scowling.

"Oh, my," Amy said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "I don't think he's happy with us."

"Too bad," Valenti said. "I haven't laughed like that in....well....a long time. Too long."

"Me neither," Amy smiled.

"So were you gonna chuck that?"

"Only if you wanted me to. For old time's sake."

"Nah. Michelle never threw anything that soft."

They collapsed into chuckles again, but milder this time. Amy stopped first and suddenly became serious.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you ever...miss her?"

"Who? Michelle?"

"Yeah."

Valenti looked at his plate. "Sometimes I miss her on Kyle's behalf. But not mine."

"See, that's the way I am too," Amy said. "I don't miss Maria's father, I just miss Maria having a father. And then I remember he was never much of a husband or a father, so what is it I'm missing, exactly?"

"You're missing what you wanted it to be," Valenti said. "What you wish it could have been."

"Yeah," Amy agreed softly. "I guess." She stirred her soup for a moment in silence. "It's nice having someone I can say that to. When you're a single parent, sometimes it seems like you forget how to be around other adults."

"I hear you," Valenti agreed.

"Of course the trade off is that you get your kid all to yourself," Amy went on. "Which is great when they want to be around you, but....well, I just got a reminder that things aren't what they used to be. The truth is, I think I was just a bit upset when that Topolsky person called me. Maria and I aren't as close as we used to be."

You would have been even more upset if you knew who Topolsky really was, Valenti thought. "I'm never sure what's going on with Kyle these days," he said. "I mean there was a time before Michelle and I broke up...."

"I know, I know!" Amy exclaimed. "Maria used to tell me every single detail of her life! We'd have these long, intense conversations and....You know, now she's just so guarded! Take the whole Alex situation...."

Valenti's ears pricked. "Alex?"

"Alex Whitman," Amy explained. "Maria, Liz, and Alex used to be inseparable. They'd go everywhere together, do everything. She hardly even speaks to him now. She has not seen him in weeks, and she won't tell me what it's about."

Three guesses, Valenti thought. So others were starting to notice the same behavior. What else had Amy noticed? She was smart and observant, so it was quite possible she'd....

A second later, Valenti was kicking himself. What was he thinking? Had he seriously just considered using his date as a spy? Source, he corrected severely. He was merely doing what every investigator did: Investigating. It's not like he was pumping her for information; she'd offered. She'd raised the subject herself, so if he merely....

Valenti's heart sank when he saw a waiter heading toward him. He'd deliberately turned off his cell phone, but had left the restaurant's number with the station just in case. That meant they'd think twice before calling him, and, judging by the phone in the waiter's hand and the grave look on his face, it appeared they had. Now what? he thought wearily. One night. Just one night. Couldn't he have just one night without interruptions?

"Sheriff...uh, there's a phone call for you," the waiter said apologetically. "It's an emergency."

Isn't it always? Valenti thought, taking the phone. "Yeah?"

"Sheriff, I am so sorry," Owen Blackwood's voice said, "but alarms just went off at the old soap factory, a whole bunch of 'em. And if the fire's that big, we might have to evacuate a section of town."

"All right," Valenti sighed. "I'm on my way." He switched the phone off and plucked his napkin off his lap. "Amy, I am so sorry about this. There's been a disturbance across town."

"Oh, it's okay!" Amy said with false cheerfulness.

Damn, Valenti thought, walking away quickly because he couldn't think of what else to say to a beautiful woman you were abandoning in the middle of a meal. Meal? Oh, shit....

"Excuse me," Valenti said, catching their waiter on the way out. "Can you be certain my check is sent to me at the station? I don't want my....guest....stuck with the check."

"Of course not, sheriff," the waiter said smoothly, having apparently forgiven the giggle fest. "I'll see to it."

"Thanks," Valenti said, hurrying outside and into his car, consoling himself on the drive that at least his dinner was being interrupted for something important. This was law enforcements' job, after all, to respond in situations like this, and his responsibilities didn't stop just because he was having a good time. It was kind of ironic that all those nights spent eating ice cream alone on the sofa had gone off with nary a hitch while his first date in decades was torpedoed, but......

He saw the cars first, a stream of cars moving away from where he was headed. Then he started looking inside the cars, and by the time he pulled up outside the soap factory, he was fuming. Kyle, I'm gonna kill you.....

"It's a party, sir," Owen called as Valenti climbed out of his car.

"You think?" Valenti said darkly.

"The fire department's checking," Owen continued. "Anyone who drove a car is making a run for it—"

"I noticed," Valenti muttered.

"—but there are still a bunch inside," Owen went on. "What do you want to do?"

"Round'em up," Valenti said. "Anyone whose feet aren't nailed down. Have you seen Kyle?"

"No, sir. We'll let you know if we do."

"Negative. If you find him, haul him in with the rest of them."

Owen blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Haul him in, and I'll talk to him there."

Owen paused. "Okay," he said finally. "If you're sure."

Damned straight I'm sure, Valenti thought sourly as he entered the factory with Owen on his heels. The one time he'd wanted some honesty from his son, he hadn't gotten it. Teenagers were fleeing everywhere as they strode through the crowd, the haze hanging in the air making it difficult to see, but not so difficult that he couldn't make out two very familiar faces only a few yards away. He lost no time in getting there.

"I need you two to come with me," Valenti announced.

The stricken looks on Liz Parker's and Alex Whitman's faces was standard issue for good students who never got in trouble, in sharp contrast to the group nearby wearing huge grins as they were collared by his deputies. Liz and Alex exchanged frantic glances, and then Liz's gaze drifted sideways to where Max Evans was watching her anxiously.

"Go on, get'em out of here," Valenti barked just as Evans disappeared out the side door. "Don't forget these two," he added as Liz looked longingly after Max.

"Uh...sir? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Valenti said, moving aside. "What's up, Owen?"

"Well....I'm not sure why you want us to arrest them," Owen whispered, glancing at Liz and Alex, who stood miserably to one side watching the others being handcuffed.

"You're not sure?" Valenti repeated. "They were trespassing, Deputy, and they were holding bottles of alcohol."

"Which we both saw handed to them by this lot," Owen replied, nodding toward the grinning miscreants. "They were just trying to offload—"

"I know what they were doing," Valenti said sharply. "And that has nothing to do with the trespassing bit."

Owen leaned in closer. "Sir, I know you want to make an example of these kids, but with all due respect, we've already got some. These other two are good kids. Why give them a record?"

"Who said anything about a record?" Valenti asked. "There were lots of kids here tonight, and it stands to reason that a certain percentage of them were 'good kids'. I just want to put the fear of God in them, and who better to do that than two fine, upstanding Roswell High students? No one's going to blink when we arrest the riffraff, but Parker and Whitman? That'll give everyone pause. You don't have to write them up. Just take them in and make it clear we don't put up with this nonsense. They'll spread the word."

And I want those two, Valenti added silently as his deputies led tonight's catch away. The silver lining to having his dinner with Amy interrupted was that two people he strongly suspected of hiding something had been placed squarely in his path.

Small compensation, maybe....but he'd take it.




****************************************************



Evans residence




Isabel was miserably silent as Max pulled the jeep into the driveway and shut off the engine. Her shoes were on the floor, having been discarded because her feet were killing her, and her dress was so tight that it was cutting off her circulation. Kind of a necessity with a strapless unless you wanted to flash everyone, but a real pain now, especially when she was finding it hard to breath anyway. It was something of an understatement that tonight hadn't exactly gone as planned.

And here she'd felt so much better this morning, so much steadier. Her visit to Alex's dream had been....disconcerting....but on balance, it made fixing their problem so much easier. Alex obviously had a crush on her, and like she'd told Max this morning, that meant she was the one who could control him. That was good news because it also meant she could finally stop worrying about what he was going to say about the hospital, about Topolsky, about everything. She'd spent the entire day carefully choosing what to wear tonight—red was a no-brainer, but her closet had a lot of red—and she'd gone to that party fully convinced that by the time she got home tonight, she'd have Alex wrapped around her little finger.

Or that had been the plan. She hadn't factored in his damnable sixth sense, which had honed in on her motives with an accuracy which was frightening. Or his sudden burst of independence, rendering him blind to both her red dress and peeking cleavage. Or the morons who'd started a fire in the soap factory, bringing fire trucks and sheriff's deputies and, worst of all, the sheriff himself, who already knew more than he should and saw his chance to cart two others who knew more than they should off to the station, one of those being none other than Alex. Valenti had let the other kids he'd rounded up go, but he'd kept Liz and Alex, and now that Alex was mad at her, he'd probably be only too glad to chat up a storm. And that was her fault, the result of her hamfisted attempt to steer a teenaged boy's hormones in the right direction. When they came for her, it would be her own fault.

"So do you think we should tell Mom and Dad before they get here?" she asked Max, who was sitting quietly in the driver's seat.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, c'mon, Max," Isabel sighed. "It's over. Valenti's got Alex, Alex will talk, and then Valenti will be on our doorstep. If we're lucky he'll wait till morning, but I wouldn't bet on it."

"Valenti has Alex and Liz," Max corrected. "Liz won't talk, and I really don't think Alex will either."

"Yes, he will," Isabel whispered. "I know he will."

"He hasn't talked before. What makes you think he'll talk now?"

Isabel swallowed hard. "Because I pissed him off tonight. I pissed him off, and then Valenti nabbed him. Talk about bad timing."

Max frowned. "Pissed him off how?"

Isabel kept her eyes on one of the bushes beneath the front window. "His dream last night....it was about me. We were on a date—"

"You and Alex?"

"Yeah. And he had me wearing this red dress, and we were dancing, and....and I thought I could use that."

"I take it it didn't work?" Max said.

"It did at first. But then he figured it out. He figured out what I was up to, and he got mad and stalked off, and...."

"And?"

"….and I felt terrible," Isabel whispered. "I'd just told him he was a really good guy, and that we could trust him, and then he figured it out. And he thought I was just giving him a line. But I wasn't," she went on miserably. "He is a good guy, and I think we can trust him. I just treated a really good guy, one of the few out there, like a piece of garbage, and now he's going to go spill it all to Valenti, and like I said before....it's over."

"Isabel...."

"I should have told him!" she went on in an anguished tone. "I should have just laid it out for him! Why didn't I do that? He's a nice guy, a smart guy, so why didn't I just tell him the truth?"

"Because you were scared," Max said gently. "Because that's hard. Believe me, I know."

"But....you said you trusted Liz."

"I do," Max said. "And I kinda had to anyway. But saying those words....'I'm an alien'....it was still really hard. At least at first. And then it was a relief."

"A relief?"

"Yeah. That someone else knew. And not only knew, but was okay with it. That there was someone else to talk to about it, someone I didn't have to hide from."

"How come I don't feel 'relieved'?" Isabel asked faintly.

"Because you haven't let yourself get that far," Max answered. "You have to get through the scary part first. You're still stuck there."

"I'm worse than 'stuck'," Isabel said as she climbed out of the jeep. "Because now Alex is mad at me, and he's going to tell Valenti everything, and I'm guessing neither of us is going to get to the 'relieved' part with the sheriff."

"Don't just assume that," Max called after her, following her inside. "Alex hasn't said anything before, and there must be a reason for that. And if he talks, he just implicates himself. He'd be in trouble too."

"And whose fault is that?" Isabel demanded. "Alex is a nice guy, Max, and we put him in a crummy position. So now he stands to get in trouble, and that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No!" Max exclaimed. "Of course not. I was just pointing out that—"

"That we're toxic," Isabel muttered. "Or at least I am."

"Back so soon?"

Isabel pulled up short. She hadn't realized that they'd blundered right into the living room, where Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, and "Dr. Johnson", the family friend, were looking at the photo albums splayed over every available surface. Or rather, had been looking at photo albums. Now they were all staring curiously at her and Max.

"The party wasn't all that great," Max answered their Dad. "So we left early."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Diane asked, staring at the shoes dangling from Isabel's hand.

"No!" Isabel said hurriedly. "No, my feet just hurt."

"Love the dress," Grandma Dee added. "Too bad the party didn't work out."

"Yeah, well....it happens," Isabel said brightly. "Nice to see you again," she added to Dr. Johnson before fleeing down the hall into Max's bedroom. "Wonderful," she grumbled when he joined her. "Now it's not just Mom and Dad, it's Grandma and Grandpa, and Mom and Dad's friend. Why don't we just invite the whole neighborhood over? We'll have a 'coming out' party."

"Calm down, Isabel," Max said. "The worst anyone could get us for is being at the party. The whole school was at that party, so that's a lot of people to go after."

"How can you be so calm?" Isabel demanded. "Valenti's got Liz! Aren't you the least bit worried about that?"

"Of course I am," Max said patiently. "But there's nothing I can do about it now that wouldn't make it worse, and like I said, the whole school was there. It'll be hard to go after her without going after everyone else too."

"Don't bet on it," Isabel said. "I wouldn't put it past Valenti to find a way. He didn't just grab some random partygoers, he took them because of us. He's just itching for—"

There was a faint knock at the window. "Probably Michael," Max said. "I didn't see him when we left, but....."

He stopped, having opened the window. Liz was outside, her carefully curled hair looking a bit bedraggled. "Liz!" Isabel exclaimed, vaulting to the window. "You're out! He let you go?"

"He sort of had to," Liz said.

"What about Alex?" Isabel went on. "Did he let him go too?"

"Yeah," Liz nodded. "Can I come in?"

The window wasn't easy to navigate in a dress, but Liz grabbed each of their hands to steady herself and made it in without incident, her shoes leaving pieces of grass on the carpet. "So what happened?" Isabel demanded. "Did Alex talk?"

"Are you in trouble?" Max asked gently.

Isabel felt herself flushing; she was so concerned about herself that she hadn't even considered that. "No," Liz said to Max. "And no," she added to Isabel. "Alex didn't talk. He said he was going to, but I talked him out of it."

"How?"

Liz hesitated. "I....I told him the truth."

"About us?" Isabel asked anxiously. "You told him the truth about us? Oh, thank God," she added when Liz nodded. "Thank God."

Liz blinked, looked at Max. "Um....I thought you'd be mad."

"We're not mad," Max said. "I'm just glad you're okay. What happened with Valenti? Why did he let you go?"

"It was Alex," Liz said. "He was just phenomenal. He threatened to sue Valenti if he didn't let us go."

"Did he call your parents?" Isabel asked.

"I'll find out for sure when I go home, but I don't think so," Liz answered.

"The other guys' parents came for them," Max said. "The fact that yours didn't means he probably didn't call them."

"The way he just crumbled when Alex went after him, I think he knew he was on shaky ground," Liz said.

"Liz, I'm really sorry," Max said.

"It's not your fault," Liz said. "We all went to the party knowing it was somewhere it shouldn't be."

"But Valenti targeted you and Alex because of us," Isabel said.

"Yeah, I know," Liz agreed. "But some good came out of it. I feel better now because Alex knows. Lying to him was killing me, and he didn't deserve it."

Isabel shook her head. "No, he didn't."

Liz's eyes widened. "What did you do, Isabel? He asked me if I had anything to do with it, and I didn't know what he was talking about."

"Long story," Isabel said self consciously, not wanting to go into it.

"Oh. Well....I don't think he really believed me. He was feeling better when I left him, but he says he doesn't believe in aliens. I think one of you are going to have to talk to him."

"I'll—"

"I'll do it," Isabel said, cutting Max off.

"You sure?" Max asked.

Isabel nodded. "Very sure. I need to make it up to him."

"Everything okay in here?"

Isabel's heart nearly burst out of her chest as she whirled around. Grandma Dee was standing in the doorway, gazing at them curiously. "I was using the bathroom, and I heard voices," Grandma explained. "Hello," she added to Liz, who was standing there in her grassy shoes, staring at her.

"Hi," Liz said faintly.

"Maybe I should close the door," Grandma suggested.

"Good idea," Max agreed. "Oh, and Grandma...."

"Don't worry," Grandma said innocently. "I never saw a thing."

The door closed gently, and Isabel let out a long slow breath. "Thank God it was her," she said, collapsing on the bed. "Can you imagine if it had been Mom?"

"She won't tell," Liz said.

They both looked her, surprised. "I know she won't," Liz said confidently. "Grandma Claudia wouldn't have either."




****************************************************



Valenti residence




Kyle Valenti's stomach clutched when he heard the car in the driveway, and he closed his book with a heavy sigh. Actually, it was something of a relief; he'd been home for several hours now, trying to while away the time until his dad got home and the fireworks would commence. Unsuccessfully, he might add, because it turned out that whiling away time before one's execution, or at least multi-week grounding, was harder than one might expect. Snacking? He wasn't hungry; knowledge of impending doom turned out to be a real appetite killer. TV? Couldn't concentrate, even though football was blessedly simple; you either had the ball or you didn't. Emptying the dishwasher? He'd found himself putting the silverware in the waste basket. Laundry? With the state he was in, everything would come out pink. No, it turned out that the only thing capable of taking his mind off the oncoming storm was.....math homework. Next Monday would mark the first time in...well....forever that he'd have his math homework correct. He knew it was correct because it also turned out that checking his work had proven to be curiously soothing, or at least numbing, a sharp contrast to English, where one had to actually think. Too bad he hadn't discovered this sooner or he might have had it not only correct, but complete.

A car door slammed, and footsteps started up the front walk. Time to man up, Kyle thought sadly. He wasn't looking forward to this. It was bad enough that the party had been discovered, but those goons had started a fire which had pulled in every emergency service in Roswell. His dad would be absolutely furious about not getting a heads up, and given how much equipment had rolled, Kyle really couldn't blame him. He braced himself as he heard the front door open, the chunk of his father's gun hitting the table in the front hall, the footsteps heading for the kitchen.

"Hi."

Kyle forced himself to look up, to look at his father, and when he did, he was surprised. Because his dad didn't look angry, he looked....tired. Flattened, even.

"Hi," Kyle said warily.

"You okay?"

"Uh....yeah."

"Good."

His dad head for the fridge, pulled out of a quart of OJ, took a swig. Kyle waited for the other shoe to drop, almost wishing it would so he could get it over with. This waiting was pure torture. In fact....maybe he should just end it.

"Dad, I—"

"Do you happen to know—"

They both stopped, having both spoken at once. "You first," Kyle said quickly.

His dad shrugged. "Okay. Do you happen to know Alex's parents?"

"Who?"

"Alex Whitman. Friend of yours from school."

"Friend? Uh....no."

"Classmate, then," his dad corrected. "Have you ever met his parents?"

"Um...I think I saw his dad once....at a science fair. I think."

"And?"

"And…..he's every bit as dweeby as his kid."

"Dweeby?"

"Yeah, you know....big glasses, buttoned up shirts, sensible shoes. Probably hasn't pitched a ball in his life. That type."

"Mmm." His father took another swig of orange juice before tossing the carton in the trash. "All right. Thanks. I'm hittin' the hay."

Kyle stared at him in disbelief. "Uh....Dad?" he called after him. "Are you okay?"

His father stopped, but didn't turn around. "Yeah. I'm just real tired."

"Okay," Kyle said uncertainly. "Oh, one more thing; there's a message for you on the machine. A woman....she didn't leave her name."

His father's shoulders seemed to sag. "Right. Thanks."

He walked off, leaving Kyle stunned and silent in the kitchen. What on earth had that been about? Alex Whitman's dad? How did his father even know about Alex Whitman? Whitman was one of the biggest dweebs there was; the only thing he was missing was the horn-rimmed glasses and the pocket protector. Of what possible interest could he be to his father?

Don't care, Kyle decided, breathing deeply for the first time in hours. Dweebs usually did nothing but get in the way, so if karma had seen fit to have one cross his path at exactly the right moment, so be it.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 33 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!




CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE



December 10, 1999, 12:30 p.m.

West Roswell High School






"Alex? Alex! Alex!"

Alex Whitman stopped reluctantly and turned in the direction of his name. Liz Parker and Maria DeLuca were at the other end of the cafeteria line, each waving frantically, each wearing a wide smile. Alex managed a smile and wave of his own before hurrying toward the cash register, trying hard not to spill his soup. Liquids were treacherous when you were jogging.

"One bean burrito, one chicken noodle, one muffin, one milk," the cafeteria lady at the register intoned. "Milk. Imagine that. All everybody drinks nowadays is soda. Probably why they're so hyper."

"Yeah, I guess," Alex said absentmindedly, watching Liz's progress through the food line. "How much do I owe you?"

"Mind you, I think pop should just be banned from schools," the cafeteria lady went on, scratching at the greasy polyester uniform all cafeteria workers seemed to be required by law to wear. "In my day, we drank milk. At every single meal. No exceptions, and nowhere near as many hyper kids."

"Someone should do a study on that," Alex agreed, holding out a five dollar bill. "This enough?"

"Not a bad idea!" Miss Budding Social Worker exclaimed. "That would be a good one for the guidance counselor. Or would be, if we still had any. I hear one of them quit today, and another up and left a couple of weeks ago, no warning. Word is they were having an affair."

Alex blinked. "I doubt it. And I very much doubt the administration would appreciate you making a comment like that to a student. Could I have my change, please?"

Miss Social Worker pinked. "Sure," she mumbled, giving him his change in record time. "Next?"

Alex stuffed the change in his pocket and left in an even bigger hurry, his soup sloshing dangerously. Where to sit? There was nowhere safe from the onslaught of Parker and DeLuca, neither of whom he was ready to talk to. Despite the past few days spent pondering and weighing and even flow-charting, he was still in a quandary as to exactly what was going on and whether he should anonymously refer Liz to the school psychiatrist or just be grateful she'd finally told him the truth. If it was the truth, that is, which was an awfully tall tale to swallow. Aliens, real aliens, in Roswell? Ridiculous.

One thing was certain: Liz believed it. That had been obvious in Valenti's jail cell because, while Liz Parker was many things, a great actress wasn't one of them. All that stammering and shaking and finger pointing, albeit at the ceiling, had been the real deal, as had her obvious relief afterward. From that moment on she had displayed all the signs of someone who had unburdened themselves, from whom a great weight had been lifted, with not so much as a hint of someone who had just spun a tale. And if she were to spin a tale, why spin a tale he was certain to reject? And to be fair, she'd hadn't ever spun a tale, not really; she had simply refused to answer his questions, telling him over and over that she couldn't, that it wasn't her secret to tell. I'll say, Alex thought as he headed down the hallway, searching for an empty classroom where he could eat in peace. This would have to be the mother of all secrets that weren't "mine to tell".

Jesus, Whitman, you're buying it, he chastised himself. He'd sworn to himself that he was going to maintain an open mind, that he'd work the problem until he came up with a reasonable answer. Unfortunately, a week's worth of working the problem had netted only two possible answers, neither of them reasonable: Either Liz was crazy....or Liz was right. As C.S. Lewis had said of Jesus Christ, the claims in question were so outrageous that he was either mad or who he said he was. He'd never thought he'd find himself applying something from an English essay to Liz Parker, but the same held true for her; her claims were so outrageous that she was either mad or the people in question were what she said they were. He'd actually taken pen to paper to list everything that had happened in the previous weird weeks and decide which way that event had pointed, and almost every single time, another tick wound up in the "alien" column. Liz and Maria's weird behavior? Tick. The blood switch? Tick. The FBI's involvement? Tick. Valenti's interest? Tick. And the way Valenti had just caved last weekend was doubly weird. He'd honestly not expected that little tirade of his to work, but Valenti had backed up so fast, he'd nearly bumped into the wall. Great for the ego, but one more tick in the "alien" column that was leading to a conclusion he simply couldn't accept. There was no greater annoyance for a native Roswellian than a native Roswellian who believed aliens were real, and Liz knew that too. Tick.

Later, Alex thought, settling into a seat in an empty classroom. It was a beautiful day, and he'd love to eat outside, but do that, and Parker and DeLuca would be on him in moments. So far he'd successfully walked a wide circle around every participant in this drama, including any and all alleged aliens; Liz and Maria were one thing, but the others were another matter entirely. Heck, they're a whole other species, he chuckled, pausing just before biting into his burrito. God, but he was doing it again.

"Hi."

Alex was so startled, he dropped his burrito. It fell apart on the way down, hitting the plate with a squishy sound and splashing all over everything, including him.

"Sorry," Isabel said. "I wasn't trying to startle you."

"I....you're.....you didn't. Okay, you did," Alex amended when she turned a pointed stare at his splashed shirt. "I didn't hear you."

"It's not like I was tiptoeing," Isabel said. "Why are you hiding in here?"

"I'm not hiding," Alex said, shaking his head vigorously. "I was just looking for somewhere to be....alone."

Isabel sighed and plopped her books down on a desk in the row to his left. Alex instinctively backed away, the desk he was sitting at scraping loudly against the floor as it traveled halfway toward the row to his right. Now it was Isabel's turn to look startled.

"Are you....afraid of me?"

"No! Of course not."

Isabel blinked, nodded, looked away....and for a second, Alex thought she was going to cry. But she recovered, mercifully settling into a desk two rows over while he busied himself mopping up his burrito and trying to look nonchalant when he really just wanted to stare and stare. God knows he'd spent plenty of time staring at Isabel Evans, but now he wanted to stare for an entirely different reason.

"Liz says you've been avoiding her," Isabel announced.

"No, I haven't," Alex said quickly.

"Maria says the same thing."

A prickle of annoyance stirred in Alex. "Well, that's interesting given that both of them have been avoiding me like the plague since September. Except when they want something. Then I'm the man."

Isabel's eyes widened, then dropped, and she looked away even as Alex was kicking himself for having said that. He was no longer mad at either Liz or Maria, not even as he thrashed over whether to believe them, but he'd just sounded like he was. "I....I didn't mean that quite the way it came out," he said uncomfortably. "I was just pointing out that sometimes, people need to be alone. Liz and Maria needed to be alone with....whatever.....and now I need to be alone. That's all."

" 'Whatever'?" Isabel repeated with a brittle smile. "Great. So now I'm a 'whatever'."

"That is not what I meant—"

"Liz said you didn't believe her. You still don't, do you?"

"I...no. I mean maybe. I mean....I don't know," Alex said in frustration. "I don't know what I believe, Isabel. I know what Liz believes. What I believe is like this whole other subject."

"Right," Isabel said briskly. "You need proof. I can prove it to you."

"That's okay," Alex said quickly. "That's not necessary."

"But why not? I can prove it to you, and end this right now."

"You really don't need to," Alex said. "I'm sure you've got lunch to eat."

"I already ate."

"Well, I haven't—"

"This'll only take a minute."

"—and I'd rather not lose my appetite," Alex finished in a rush. "Please. No 'proving'."

"What is it you think I'm going to do?" Isabel asked.

"I don't know what you're going to do!" Alex exclaimed. "I don't know anything any more! I don't know my friends, I don't know my guidance counselor, who wasn't really a guidance counselor, I don't know my sheriff, not that I every really wanted to anyway, and that giant flushing noise in the background is everything I thought I knew about life on this planet going right down the toilet! I just need some time to think, which is why I'm in here eating by myself, and why I don't want to talk to Liz, or Maria, or anyone. Not now."

Isabel nodded slowly. "Okay. When, then?"

"I don't know," Alex said desperately. "When I get to that point, I'll let....someone....know."

"I hope it's me."

Alex blinked. "What?"

"I'm not just saying that," Isabel went on, her eyes carefully focused on some point to the side. "This isn't a come on, this is...." She stopped, her hands knotting in her lap. "An apology. It's an apology, Alex. I'm really, really sorry I did....what I did....at the party. I was....I was just....."

"Scared?" Alex suggested.

Isabel's eyes met his. "Terrified," she whispered. "We never tell. We never tell anyone, and suddenly it seemed like all these people knew. First Liz, and then Maria, and then you—"

"Okay, just for the record, I didn't 'know' anything until I landed in jail," Alex broke in. "I kept trying to find out, and no one would tell me, remember?"

"And we should have," Isabel said soberly. "We should have told you the truth, and I'm sorry about that, but when Liz called you when Max was in the hospital, we didn't know what to do. We knew the blood test would give him away because of that whole cells-under-the-microscope thing Liz did, and we had to move fast, and....frankly, you wouldn't have believed us if we'd told you then. And we were desperate. We were...." She stopped, her voice threatening to break. "I'm sorry. It's just really hard. It's really hard to keep that secret for so long and then have it dangling in the breeze. Or that's what it feels like, anyway. And then Valenti suspected, and we found out the FBI was after us, and....it's been a tough time."

Alex didn't move, didn't say anything, didn't dare to because Isabel looked seriously close to bursting into tears. And she knew it, judging by the way she gathered up her books and started backing toward the door. "Anyway, I just wanted to say I was sorry. And to thank you for not ratting us out to Valenti. Twice. And to say that eventually you've got to come out of the classroom and talk to somebody, and when you do, I hope you'll talk to me. Max has Liz, and Michael has Maria....sort of....and it seems like that's the one bright spot in all of this, that we get somebody to talk to. So since you'll need somebody to talk to.....I really hope that somebody will be me."

She disappeared into the hallway, and Alex stared after her for a moment, looked down at his cold burrito....and vaulted out of his seat. "Isabel!" he called to the open doorway. "Isabel, wait!"

But she was already down the hall, and who should emerge from a nearby classroom but Sheriff Valenti. Valenti stopped, Isabel stopped, and down the hall, Alex stopped.

"Miss Evans," Valenti said uncomfortably.

"Hi," Isabel said faintly.

She fled, but not before Alex got a look at her face. Terrified. She'd said they were terrified. You could use that word here, but it didn't do it justice. Valenti saw it too, and may have pondered that far longer if he hadn't glanced down the hall, seen Alex....and beat a hasty retreat.

Alex walked slowly back into the classroom and sank into his seat. Here he was walking a wide circle around Liz, Maria, and any alleged aliens, and it appeared the sheriff was walking a wide circle around him. And if that wasn't disturbing enough, another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. He'd been wondering why Liz had believed this incredible story. She claimed to have been shot and that Max had healed her, but what if she'd just thought she was shot? What if she really had just broken a bottle of ketchup and romanticized the whole thing, as much as it was possible to "romanticize" an assault? Granted that wasn't like Liz, but nor was it like to her to simply buy a tall tale of that magnitude. Liz would have wanted proof. Liz would have demanded proof.

"We knew the blood test would give him away because of that whole cells-under-the-microscope thing Liz did...."

So Liz had gone after proof. She'd looked at Max's cells under a microscope—a very Liz thing to do—and apparently what she'd seen had tipped the scale. So this wasn't just some high school crush or an emotional reaction to a traumatic event. This had biology behind it. It was no longer merely a question of what Liz believed.

Alex gathered up the remains of his lunch and looked at the clock. One more period.....and then it was time to come out of the classroom.




******************************************************




Proctor residence



"That's it?" Dee said. "That's all you could find out?"

"You have no idea how difficult it was to acquire even that much information," Brivari said. "The sheriff is keeping this very quiet. Very quiet."

Dee uttered a sound of disgust as she placed a pitcher of iced tea on the table in her childhood home, now hers. "He can't keep it that quiet," she grumbled. "He's got a staff, and staffs talk. And there must have been lots of deputies around, what with the party and all."

"And that appears to have played in the sheriff's favor," Brivari said, pouring himself a glass of tea. "There were so much going on and so many youths taken to the station that even his closest deputies aren't quite sure what happened. Do you have any lemon?"

Dee gave him a puzzled look before fetching the squeeze bottle of lemon juice from the fridge. "But he only arrested six. Not twenty-six, six, and two of those were bogus. How do hide that?"

"He jailed six," Brivari corrected. "It's my understanding that no formal charges were filed, not for those or the several others who were only questioned. Do you have any fresh lemon?"

"No," Dee said crossly. "And stop changing the subject. Formal charges or no, he locked up six people."

"And released all of them," Brivari noted, helping himself to a generous squeeze of bottled lemon. "No one was charged or even held overnight. There were so many of the town's teenagers at that party that he feared an outcry if he arrested only a handful. Word is the sheriff's own son was there, which would have prompted an even bigger outcry if that son had gotten a free ride while others were formally charged."

"You're not the least bit concerned about this, are you?" Dee demanded. "You know perfectly well that Valenti grabbed Liz Parker and Alex Whitman for reasons that had nothing to do with that party, and he would have grabbed Max and Isabel if he'd had the chance."

"But he didn't," Brivari said calmly. "Look, I'm sorry I couldn't intervene, but I simply can't be everywhere at once, and my primary concern is a threat to my Wards. Rath left the party before Valenti's arrival, and Zan and Vilandra were not apprehended. I know you said they were upset, but the object of Zan's affection—"

"You mean Liz?"

"—very well then, 'Liz', has proven herself loyal in previous encounters with the sheriff. The other was the blood donor when Zan was hospitalized, the one who fended off Topolsky and ultimately helped expose her. Zan has always chosen his allies well. I saw little chance they would betray him, and they didn't. And even if they had, the sheriff's own behavior would likely have trumped anything they said. Am I right?"

"Oh, he would have been in so much trouble," Dee said darkly. "Jailing minors and not contacting their parents? Big no-no. He might have been able to write it off to 'trying to scare them', or something like that, but even that would have been a tough sell when he'd already contacted the others' parents. Philip would have had him in a virtual head lock in minutes."

"Which is further reason why any fantastic claims would likely not have been believed," Brivari said.

"But that doesn't matter," Dee argued. "What would have mattered is that Valenti would have believed those fantastic claims and pursued them. You know that. He may not have nabbed Max and Isabel, but nabbing someone else to get to them is almost as bad." She paused. "Maybe we should tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"The truth, of course. Like I did with his father. I plopped a trithium generator right in front of him and turned it on—"

"Because Courtney had been abducted," Brivari said, "and you couldn't locate Jaddo and me. You were desperate. We're not desperate, not to mention that we had a sense for the elder Valenti's likely reaction given his experiences with your family. We have no idea how his son would react, especially since he blames his father's decline on his passion for chasing aliens."

"Something I may have very well contributed to," Dee sighed. "I've always wondered if I tripped the switch by telling him he was right."

"He already knew he was right," Brivari noted. "You're not responsible for another man's choices."

"Maybe not, but I still can't help but feel we'd be better off with Valenti on our side," Dee said. "Think about it—he could help deflect the FBI, or at least keep us up to speed on what they're doing. He could—"

"No," Brivari said firmly. "There are already enough people who know about my Wards, and keeping track of all of them is increasingly difficult. There's a reason each royal was assigned their own Warder. One to three is not a good ratio."

"Then let Jaddo help," Dee suggested. "He's only got one. That ratio should be two to four, not one to three."

"I'd tell Valenti before I'd let Jaddo anywhere near them," Brivari said darkly. "His own twisted version of 'parenthood' has mellowed him somewhat, but entrusting him with responsibility for them? I'm not there yet. He'll be here next summer, so I have until then to get there."

"You really think he'll wait that long?"

"Lieutenant White asked him to wait, so he'll wait. He'd do anything she asked no matter how much he hated it, which is precisely why I asked her to deliver that particular bit of news."

" 'Lieutenant White'," Dee chuckled. "You always called her 'The Healer'. When did that change?"

Brivari stared into space for a moment. "When 'healer' began to sound....archaic."

"Good gracious, we've humanized you," Dee said dryly. "Took us a half century, but then you're slow." She paused, ignoring the look he gave her. "Before 'Lieutenant White' flew back, she said she was considering spending some time out here next summer. Something about you maybe needing her when you try to integrate Ava into the group, but I suspect...."

Brivari raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Dee hesitated. "I imagine you've already considered this, but—"

"There's nothing I can do for the captain," Brivari said quietly. "You and I went over this regarding your parents. I can heal wounds, set bones, or remove foreign substances like bacteria. What the captain and your parents have is simply age-related degeneration. I can't reset the clock."

"Right," Dee nodded. "Right. Just.....just checking. Well....it would be good to have her out here, especially if you're so sure Jaddo still listens to her. That's one worry we won't have."

"No, we'll have another," Brivari sighed. "Jaddo isn't my only worry. If what he tells me is true, we have a new one."




*****************************************************




Artesia, New Mexico




"Afternoon, Mr. Hartman!"

Rolling his eyes, Jaddo paused on the front porch, his key in the lock, his hand on the doorknob. It would be so easy to pretend he hadn't heard that, so easy to pretend his portly neighbor's call had somehow been carried away on the passing breeze. He was so close.....

"Mr. Hartman? Mr. Hartman! I said 'afternoon'!"

But not close enough, he thought, reluctantly letting the doorknob slip back. His next door neighbor, a female of at least 250 pounds, was standing beside, or perhaps leaning on, the fence which separated their yards, gushing hose in one hand, small yappy dog in the other. This woman appeared to have no hobbies besides watering the myriad flowers in her yard and carrying around the yappy dog, whose feet may have never touched the ground. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the woman's arm was permanently bent and the dog's legs permanently atrophied.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Macklin," Jaddo said. "I see you're drowning—I mean watering—your lovely flowers."

Mrs. Macklin's face lit up with a wide smile. "I do so love my flowers!" she exclaimed. "And it's so kind of you to complement them, bless your heart!"

You could if I had one, Jaddo thought. "Don't know what I'd do without my flowers," Mrs. Macklin went on, having mistaken him for someone who was interested. "Jippy loves them too, can't keep him out of them."

" 'Jippy'?"

A flurry of barking identified the owner of the name. Jaddo remained on the porch, well aware that animals, especially high strung dogs, seemed to sense there was something different about him. Keeping his distance was always advisable and fine with him anyway, as he detested the things. "Yes, Mama's little snoogums loves them, doesn't he!" Mrs. Macklin crooned to her critter. "Yes, he duzzy wuzzy! Snoogums loves to get some exercise in Mama's wuvley garden...."

Jaddo tuned out the rest as Mrs. Macklin continued to talk nonsense, itching to get back inside. He'd always avoided humans as much as possible, not terribly difficult since he and Tess had moved around so much. Early on he'd kept so much to himself that he'd aroused suspicion; since then he'd learned that a certain amount of interaction was necessary to avoid that. But contact had been kept to an absolute minimum, only that which was necessary to appear a concerned parent at her school and reassure the neighbors that he wasn't harboring bodies in the basement. Now that they were moving to Roswell next summer and reuniting the hybrids, he'd have to change that. Both the Healer and Brivari had impressed upon him the need to interact—politely—with the hybrids' human guardians and Roswell citizens in general. That would mean a higher level of exposure than he'd like, something that would take some getting used to. May as well start here, with his fat neighbor and her annoying little dog.

".....and I'm so glad we could chat before you leave," Mrs. Macklin was saying. "I've barely spoken to you while you were here, but maybe we can make up for lost time before you—"

"What?" Jaddo broke in sharply. "Who told you that?"

"Well....Tessie said something," Mrs. Macklin answered. "She said you were moving at the end of the school year."

"Oh, she did, did she?"

"Yes! To Roswell," Mrs. Macklin added. "She was all excited. Lovely girl, your Tessie. Did you know she comes over and plays with Jippy?"

"Apparently there a lot of things I don't know," Jaddo said darkly. "Excuse me."

He'd no sooner reached for the front door when it opened and Tess appeared with one of her friends from school, whose eyes widened when she saw him. "Okay, well....see you later," the friend said self-consciously to Tess as she edged past Jaddo. "That's great news! I mean, it's bad news for me, but I'm so happy for you. Hi, Mr. Hartman. Bye, Mr. Hartman."

"If I don't see you again, good luck!" Mrs. Macklin called. "And if you need any help—"

"Inside," Jaddo growled, grabbing Tess by the arm and hauling her inside the house as the friend scurried down the front walk. He'd no sooner closed the door on Mrs. Macklin's continued bleatings when Tess rounded on him.

"Rude, much?" she demanded.

"Just what exactly do you think you're doing?" Jaddo retorted.

"I was saying goodbye to Amanda," Tess answered. "That's generally what you do when friends leave; you say goodbye. And you generally don't shut the door in a neighbor's face when she's talking to you."

"It wasn't in her face, and don't change the subject. What did you tell her about us moving?"

"Is that what this is about?" Tess exclaimed. "You just blew off Mrs. Macklin and scared Amanda to death—again—over that? Honestly, you are such an embarrassment! I can't go anywhere without apologizing for you—"

"This isn't about your school friend!" Jaddo said angrily. "Or our fat neighbor, or Bippy—"

"Jippy."

"Whatever! Mrs. Macklin knows we're moving, and from the sounds of things, so does Amanda."

"So what? I can't tell my friends the most exciting news of my life?"

Jaddo raised an eyebrow. "Since when is Mrs. Macklin your 'friend'? Or perhaps it's the dog?"

"Trust me, that dog is more of a friend to me that you'll ever be," Tess muttered.

"Perhaps you can explain why Mrs. Macklin also knows where we're moving."

Some of the fire went out of Tess's eyes. "She....she does?"

"Yes, she does," Jaddo said stonily. "Let me guess—the dog told her?"

"I...may....have mentioned that," Tess allowed. "Maybe."

"Tess, what has gotten into you?" Jaddo demanded in exasperation. "You don't give away information like that! We're only moving a short ways away; what if someone comes looking for you? We'll have new names, new personal histories....have you any idea how strange that will look?"

"Look, I'm sorry!" Tess exclaimed. "It must have just slipped out."

" 'Just slipped out'?" Jaddo repeated in astonishment. "What else 'just slipped out'? Your true identity? Mine?"

"No need to fret there because that can't slip out," Tess said sourly. "I don't know who I am, and I certainly don't know who you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just exactly what I said," Tess shot back. "Who was that man last week? Why couldn't I keep him out of the house? Was that woman really your 'nurse'? And why weren't they afraid of you? Everyone's afraid of you, but not them. You scare the ever-loving shit out of everyone, but not them."

"Enough," Jaddo said severely. "Who they are is not important. What is important is your shocking lack of discretion. Have I not taught you how careful we need to be? Have you forgotten who could be listening? If the others—"

"Have you forgotten how often you dangle 'the others' in front of my nose?" Tess interrupted. "I hear about them constantly, but you never told me anything about them until I made you....and then I find out they're family! And not only family, but one of them is my husband!"

"Was your husband," Jaddo corrected. "Was. He has no memory of that, just like you don't. None of them remember."

"But they will," Tess said eagerly. "They have to. They'll want to. They must know they're different, and when they see there's someone else like them—"

"You don't know what they'll do," Jaddo said. "No one knows what they'll do. They're living with humans, in human families."

"But why? Why aren't they with us?"

"That's not important. What is important—"

"How can you say that's not important?" Tess demanded. "We're family, and we were separated, and that's not important? How can that not be important?"

"—is that you exercise better judgment, or you'll never get to meet them because the Special Unit will get there first," Jaddo finished. "You will tell anyone to whom you've mentioned moving that you misunderstood, that it's merely a possibility. Which might be a true statement."

Tess's eyes widened in alarm. "What's that supposed to mean? I passed that woman's test! You said she said I was ready!"

"And I even argued for moving sooner," Jaddo said. "But....God, I can hardly believe I'm saying this, but I'm having second thoughts. If you're blathering sensitive information to all and sundry, I can't take you there."

"That is not fair!" Tess shouted. "Not after you—"

"Don't you get it?" Jaddo hissed, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You are the experienced one. You are the one who knows the most. So if I can't count on you to provide an example, if you're nothing but a liability, I can't risk it. I can't risk you bringing all of you down!"

Tess wrenched out of his grip, her eyes burning. "Don't you worry about me," she said tightly. "I won't disappoint you in front of those people you're afraid of. Yeah, that's right—I noticed. Not only were they not afraid of you, you were afraid of them. That's a first. Nice to know that someone makes you sweat because God knows...."

She stopped, pitching sideways as the ground beneath her feet heaved suddenly. Sprawled on the floor, she glared up at him with a look he'd seen far too many times.

"I've had quite enough of this," Jaddo said in a deadly voice. "Whatever our visitor thought of you, you will have to prove yourself to me, and your inexcusable lack of judgment does exactly the opposite. If you want to meet the others so badly, you'll have to do better."

Tess pushed herself to her feet, and stalked off to her room, slamming her door behind her as Jaddo leaned against the wall and sighed. God, but she was a handful. He'd never laid a hand on her, but then he didn't have to; power had its privileges. He had no idea how she was going to behave when the time came to reunite the hybrids, but if this was any indication, it was not encouraging. At this rate, the Special Unit would have them for lunch.

Or will they? So far, the Unit's response had been lackluster, and no wonder—it lacked a head. For reasons Jaddo could not fathom, the Unit head he'd executed last spring, Agent Summers, had not been replaced. Good news for the hybrids, perhaps, because it meant their antics were not attracting the kind of focused attention they would have had Summers still been alive. But as Brivari had pointed out, the fact that Summers' second had not stepped into his shoes was troubling because it was a different pattern than the Unit usually displayed, meaning it was unpredictable. And the last thing they needed now was for the Unit to become unpredictable.

Sighing, Jaddo went out to the kitchen and poured himself a drink. He'd never told Brivari what he'd learned back when he'd first left Roswell with Tess. He'd never told him because, even now, he wasn't certain it was true. His contact at the time had told him that a Pierce had just appeared in the Unit in possession of a serum which could control aliens. That something had happened was clear because the Unit had subsequently undergone a shake-up which had cost that contact his job. A couple of years had passed before he acquired a new contact, and that new source had no knowledge of a Pierce or a serum. At the time that had seemed like good news, and as the years went by, he'd begun to question his information. The Unit knew Pierce was dead and had never found his serum; perhaps the contact had merely overheard a discussion and muddled the details?

But a niggling feeling that something was wrong continued to hound him as he pursued Summers like he'd pursued all Unit heads, a task which had taken a decade because the Unit had gotten smarter, and no Unit head had been as smart as Daniel Summers....and that left him wondering. If another Pierce did exist, Summers would have been savvy enough to hide him. If the serum had been found, Summers would have been savvy enough to keep that to himself unless and until it was needed. So when the Unit had resurfaced in Roswell this fall, he'd kept a close ear to the ground for any sign of a Pierce, but heard nothing, and nothing about Summer's replacement either. He'd been honest with Brivari when he'd said he'd taken out everyone around Summers at the time of the execution, but he'd never really believed any of them were Summers' second. Much as it pained him to admit it, Summers was smarter than that.

But maybe not smart enough, Jaddo thought. It was quite possible Summers had finally been caught with his pants down, and with still no hint of a Pierce on the scene, getting Brivari all riled up about the possibility seemed premature. He needed evidence before he said anything, and the way the Unit was blissfully bungling their latest lead certainly didn't suggest a Pierce at work. Perhaps he was worrying for nothing, and if so, it was best he worry alone.

An ear-splitting blast of music suddenly emanated from Tess's room; Jaddo winced and placed a hand on the wall separating her bedroom from the kitchen, making it soundproof. This was what she did when she got angry with him, which seemed to be all the time now. Their Wards were taking turns behaving irresponsibly, including, embarrassingly, his own. What he wouldn't give if they would all just back off and take a break from doing stupid things.




*****************************************************



Roswell




The truck driver leaned out the window, his expression wary. "Where to?"

"South."

"How far south?"

"Few miles. Ten, maybe?"

The driver looked him up and down carefully. "Okay. Get in."

The cab smelled like cigarettes, lots and lots of cigarettes. The driver headed through town, going straight down the main drag. "So what's ten miles or so down the road?"

"The Indian reservation."

"I can let you off at the edge. Won't drive all the way in."

"That'll be great. Thanks."

The driver relaxed now that he knew exactly when he'd be rid of his hitchhiker, and Michael perched an arm on the window of the cab. Up ahead he spied a familiar jeep, and when he looked in the window of the restaurant it was parked outside of, he could just barely see two familiar figures at the pool table.

Enjoy your date while you can, Maxwell, Michael thought. Because when I find out what those cave symbols mean....date's over.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Easter is next week, so I'll be posting Chapter 34 on Sunday, May 1st. Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!