ENDGAME

Alex sat back in amusement and watched the Guerins have a running argument. Michael wanted Maria locked away safe in the back room, and Maria argued that she was safe in the room with him. It went on for awhile until they compromised with her staying with them until it was time for her to eat, and then she needed to take a nap and rest. Alex looked down and snickered at the look of exasperation entering her eyes. This was going to be one hell of a long pregnancy by the looks of it.

Children. He had never thought about it, or them. They just seemed like another thing that made a person vulnerable. Something that could tear a person’s soul to shreds when they died. And they would die, because everything did.

The night had an air of anticipation in it. Max, Kyle, Sean and Hanson moved through the crowd intermingling, and keeping an eye on each other. Alex moved in and out, behind the bar, onto the floor and back again. He was like a live wire, hot and deadly searching the field. Michael knew that another death in Alex’s club would destroy him. He had opened the doors thereby making his people the target.

Max came back and sat down in a chair. Maria was sleeping in the back room. She ate three orders of takeout Chinese, drank some of Michael’s blood, and had enjoyed about forty-five minutes of raging sex. Michael left her sleeping in peace and went back to work. They were going to have to find a real explanation or solution soon, but until then this was keeping her healthy.

“Eddie’s in the house.” Max said quietly. Michael looked over at the picture that the camera showed. Eddie.

“He’s a local boy. Lived here all his life, but since he was sixteen he's taken trips out of state participating in archaeological digs. Maria said that he just lost a position he wanted more than anything so he could stay in this regent. It’s the biggest site in the state and he lost it to another graduate student who wasn’t deserving.”

Michael looked at the monitor and followed Eddie. He came with a small handful of students, many of whom Michael recognized as graduate students from the Anthropology Department.

“He’s the one that told Maria about the bug collecting and directed her towards the Bug Guys. He’s athletic and strong.”

“Too young, Michael.”

“Perhaps.” Michael thought about it. “But he would have known Janet Seers.”

Max just nodded. “The Bug Guys are a possibility.” They had seen them earlier that day. “You notice the cuts on their hands. They could have gone through the glass, and they’re field experts so they have to be fit in some sense.”

Michael thought about it. “They're scientific, methodical, collectors and they have access to the material needed to do the job. But the broken glass at the warehouse that day had no blood on it. The pane was broken, but that doesn’t mean the killer cut himself, not if he was using his hand wrapped in a jacket or some material.” Michael picked up more pictures coming out of the printer. “They're the right age and have all the expertise and years of experience, and they understand animal behavior being a sub-specialty of the Biology Department. But I don’t feel any disturbing vibes from them. Maria thinks they’re sweet, and she has good instincts.”

Max nodded. Maria did have good instincts, but this was no ordinary killer. He was a sociopath with the ability to hide and melt into the background. It could be anyone. Max looked at the monitor and swore under his breath. It could be Jonathan. Jonathan.

The man in question just entered the club and he was talking to the bouncer and doorman. Dammit, what was he doing here?

“Jonathan’s here.” Michael looked at his partner’s worried face.

“He came to see Alex, Maxwell. It doesn’t have to be him...”

“He’s powerful, methodical, demands perfection in his life. I was in his house. He has a downstairs room that holds his ‘collection’ which he wouldn’t let me see. He's wealthy, owns the properties next to him and he can afford to house a real collection. He’s physically fit and capable, and he’s a member of the University's Board of Trustees. He has access to the campus and the Museum as a major contributor, both personally and as the acting CEO of the Foundation.”

“Maxwell, don’t go off the deep end. Many people can fit the profile. He has no connection with Janet Seers that we know of, and there’s nothing in his life that’s wrong. His life is damn near perfect and that doesn’t give him a reason to go postal and lose control. The man is too f-ucking controlled, too on top of things and his eyes are dark and indecipherable, but it doesn’t make him the One. ” Michael didn’t like Jonathan, but he also didn’t want his partner hurt.

“Sean slept with the enemy last time. Maybe it’s my turn?” Max looked at the monitor as a man waved Jonathan through the club. “He’s perfect.”

“He’s a c-ock-sucking prick with too much power and a disturbing ability to invade my life, but he’s been looking for Alex all day, and he’s probably here to finally talk to him. Jonathan is too noticeable. People don’t overlook him often, and most people who meet him know immediately that he’s there. He couldn’t fade in the background if he tried. He likes being up front and in the limelight too much.” Michael just cursed his luck. Now he was defending Jonathan Stiller.

“He goes on the list.” Max voice was low, but serious. Michael nodded. They were slowly devising their top list of most likely suspects. If nothing came out of tonight, they would start investigating and taking closer looks into their list in the morning. Max had to ask. “What does he want with Whitman?”

Michael just shrugged. “He wants him of the board of the Foundation. The seat that Price wanted.”

Max felt relieved and a little pissed that he had let Alex push his buttons and tease him over Jonathan. Price, now that was a possibility.

“Price.” Both Michael and Max said at the same time.

Michael liked that thought. He hated the man. Hated how he treated Maria, and how he suddenly did an aboutface when he learned of her connections. He lost his appointment to the Foundation weeks ago and spent the remainder of the time trying to achieve it anyway. He was a perfectionist, methodical, demanding and inflexible. He had access to the materials and knew Janet Seers enough to comment on her being precise and punctual. Michael had looked at the trophy he won for a marathon. He was the right age - even though he acted older, he was still only thirty-seven. He lived in Roswell and was a Departmental Chair. He knew cultures. Knew how men lived, how they hunted and gathered and he was in a Department where knowing about how to make a shellac from beetles in Mexico was a real possibility. Of course, that was also another strike against the Bug Guys as well, and Eddie.

“Put Price at the top of the list. I want to know what his area of expertise is. We'll check it out in the morning. I bet my donuts he specializes in Mexico or Meso-America.”

“Detectives.” They turned to see a smiling Jonathan in the doorway. Both men looked at each other, and Max felt a need to back away from Jonathan, a sense of reserve. Jonathan seemed to sense that and he frowned.

“Anyone see the elusive Mr. Whitman? I left him numerous messages today, and he didn’t return a single one of them.”

“That was because he didn’t want to return them, Mr. Stiller.” Jonathan turned as Alex entered the room smoking his cigarette. “I knew you would find me here eventually. Where else would I be?”

“Well it worked. I came.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. Alex saw things. He had the sight, a touch of the knowing. “You know why I came?”

“The Foundation. Stop harassing me, and I’ll give it some thought and get back to you. After this is over.” Alex was shocked at how much he was putting on the back burner because of this murder. First Isabel and now this. Alex didn’t want to think about it or even discuss it, so he left the room as abruptly as he had entered it.

Jonathan sat on the corner of the table and looked at both Michael and Max. They worked well together. Almost like they always belonged at each other’s side, both serving a higher purpose.

“So what’s got the two of you so quiet? Afraid I was going to kiss Max?”

Max actually turned a little red and cursed his rising color. “No, it’s just...” Max couldn’t continue. What if Jonathan was innocent and learned that he was a suspect? But what if he was the killer?

“Jonathan, what’s your collection at your house?”

Jonathan frowned at Michael’s question and then suddenly it became clear. So that was the problem. Interesting.

“My wine cellar? That’s what I really collect since college. Used to buy by the case, drink a few and put up the rest. I have a system of color-coding the wines to indicate their attributes. It’s sort of a hobby.” Jonathan looked at the two men and smiled with a distinctive lack of humor. “Next question?”

Michael ignored Max’s pleading look to let it drop at this time. Jonathan’s attitude was the one thing that pissed Michael off. It was superior, almost teasing. It was as if Jonathan knew more about them than they knew about themselves, and it amused him to no end to watch them wandering in the dark. It was the sheer smugness of his attitude.

“Janet Seers? Know her?”

Jonathan thought about it for a moment, and shook his head no. But the name sounded familiar. “Wait, yes. I think I do. Not personally, but I think I know of her. She was deserted by her husband when they were newlyweds. He left her with too many bills, and he not only ran off with her best friend, but all their savings as well. The Foundation gave her a second chance scholarship to help her through school and get her life back on track. That was over three years ago. Don’t know that I ever met her personally, but I know of her.”

Jonathan looked at Max and noticed how uncomfortable he was. Good.

“So this puts me at the top of your list of suspects, Detectives?”

Michael ignored Max. “Right up there with Price.”

Jonathan laughed at that. “Oh, that’s just great. Sharing exalted company with Price. Well think of this, Detectives. If I was your Collector, I missed a grand opportunity the other night.” Both of them looked confused, what was Jonathan talking about? “Detective Evans is an excellent unblemished specimen of the male species. I searched every inch of his body and don’t recall a single mark except those I left. I missed an opportunity to ‘take’ him.”

Jonathan stood up, ignoring the increased redness from Max and the narrowing of Michael’s eyes. He was through. It was enough.

“I need a drink.” Jonathan left them and walked out into the bar and head straight for the bar and the first of many drinks.

“That was...” Michael was cut off by Max.

“Leave it, partner. If he’s innocent, look at it from his position. We just told him that he’s a suspect and that I don’t trust him. That’s a hard thing to hear from someone you just slept with a few days ago.”

“Still, he didn’t have to be such a prick about it.”

Max just shrugged. “In his position? I would’ve been one.” Michael did acknowledge that if Maria ever put him in that position he wouldn’t take it so calmly.

“What’s going on?” Maria asked. Michael frowned when Maria came back into the room. She should’ve slept longer.

“We’re short listing suspects, and Jonathan is on it.” Michael said.

Maria made a face. “Don’t be ridiculous. Jonathan? I know that he is deep and mysterious at times, but this? Too clandestine for Jonathan. He’d want a bigger, more interesting game. Jonathan wouldn’t hide.”

Michael had to agree with Maria. That was his take on the glory hogging Jonathan Stiller, paragon of community virtue. “Well, he’s here tonight.”

Maria looked at Max and frowned. He was avoiding her eyes and concentrating on the monitors. “Here? Really? Does he know that there’s an operation going on?”

“He knows. He stopped in here to have Michael do thirty questions,” Max said softly.

“Oh! So he knows he’s a prime suspect. So that means he either left in a huff, or is out there planning on wasting his brain cells.”

“Last look, he was bellying up to the bar.” Michael didn’t know why making Jonathan unhappy sort of pleased him, so he just chalked it up to his usual 'dog in the manger' attitude. Of course, Max’s unhappiness was another matter.

“Well if you’re making lists, add Gerald Tiny.” Maria said sitting on a table with a takeout box of Chinese food, eating with chopsticks. “He’s suspicious.” She started sorting through the pictures from the surveillance camera, absentmindedly.

“He’s a pervert, Maria. That doesn’t make him a suspect. Just questionable.” Michael said amused.

“Yeah, but he knew Janet. He knew her enough to be overly curious about this case and stalk me for insider information. How do you know he wasn’t using me to try to see how close you were to him?” Maria reached over for another eggroll and noticed that someone had eaten all the sweet and sour sauce. Her eyes narrowed at Michael. It had to be him.

“He doesn’t really fit the profile, Maria.”

“Why not? He’s in the University system and has access to most departments. He knew the first victim, shows up here that night, and later comes to see me in the hospital. Don’t tell me that the man isn’t wanting something from me. Maybe being a pathetic loser and pervert is his camouflage? Those greedy sausage-fat fingers meticulously poking at some victim. I can totally see it.”

Michael actually didn’t like the picture she was painting. That creep was bothering her? Stalking her down on campus, and later when she was in the hospital all weak and defenseless?

“Add him to the top of the list too, Maxwell. Even if he’s not involved, I want to run a check on him and bring him in for questioning.” Maria smiled sweetly at him. That was her man.

“So who else is on the list?” They reluctantly told her, and Maria made protesting noises. “First, putting Eddie on the list is just stupid. The man is a honey, and wouldn’t hurt a fly. And the Bug Guys? Please. George has two toy poodles, vicious and pampered. Jeremy faints at the sight of blood. Jonathan? I’m not even going to talk about that. He wouldn’t hide for ten years. If it were Jonathan, he would have left a huge body count in the open, tempting the police and law community to catch him. He doesn’t 'do' small.”

“You’re killing our list, Maria.” Max was feeling the frustration. This was the closest they had gotten to solving the case or at least make some headway, and Maria was breaking down and clearing their suspects left and right. This man couldn’t be that well hidden. He was living a real life out there.

“Price,” she said.

~~~

He walked in the club, careful to insinuate himself with a group. He was wearing a pair of tight, faded blue jeans and a soft suede shirt that was worn at the elbows. He looked young, about maybe twenty-eight, belying his more advanced years, but trimming off about twenty from his usual appearance.

His hair naturally wanted to curl, so in his normal life, he kept it under control and brushed it back in a conservative style, avoiding all possible hint of a curl or cowlick to mar his appearance. Tonight he washed his hair and let it dry naturally in the irritating curls, out of control and wild. Using contacts instead of his glasses he further altered his appearance and his clothing didn’t hide his physique like his everyday clothes did.

Keeping his demeanor easy and laidback, insinuating himself with a group, he discreetly scanned the room, looking for what he wanted - his target. He had called earlier in the day and was informed of the whereabouts of his next specimen. Of course, it would be the hunting ground, right in the heart of the battlefield. Otherwise, it wouldn’t sweeten the kill. He kept his demeanor loose and slightly gay, like a man on the prowl for another man and a quickie illicit encounter. Searching the room, he found something interesting, something he wanted. Making eye contact with the man, almost sending vibes of two men caught in an impromptu f-uck up against a wall or in a dark corner. He was careful not to telegraph his intent this time, but rather just the want for a forbidden gay encounter by forcing his body to remain even and balanced, he walked past one of the hunters, a trainee studying at the feel of the masters without a glimmer of recognition. Kyle. He easily walked in the trap. A trap was only a trap if you weren’t aware of it. A snare could be easily disarmed and avoided, if you knew what you were looking for.

It took only a moment of silence and stillness for his mark to turn and look at him. The power of the penetrating stare alarmed him for a moment, but his arrogance moved to the top. He fingered the ampule of Poppers in his pocket laced with the other drug to subdue his prey. Superiority - the killing field was his and his prey acknowledged it and slowly moved to an exit with him following. This they would do in private. He slowly followed the man out into the alley...

~~~

“Price?” Michael stood up suddenly. “What about Price, Maria?”

Maria turned the picture over in her hands and showed Michael and Max. “This is Price!” They looked at the picture and both swore. It was, but not at first glance. The man in the picture looked younger. He fit in. Both Michael and Max moved to the door fast. Michael looked back at Maria.

“I know. I won’t move.” Maria sat there stunned. Price . All those years...and his dislike of her...but he never approached her. It was her scars. They had protected her.

Michael and Max moved into the main bar. The alert stance of Michael’s body rang Sean's alarm bells from where he stood serving bar. Coming out from behind, they both looked across the room. Where was Price? Michael frowned. Where the hell was Alex? They hadn’t felt him this time because he kept his hunter instinct in check so as not to alert the group that the hunt was on.

Hanson was over in a corner, and suddenly he noticed Kyle moving quickly through the crowds. He looked up and saw Michael and Sean scanning the room, searching. He went to join them, uncertain what he was looking for, but it was his job.

“Who is it?” Sean asked.

Michael showed both Sean and Kyle the picture. “It’s Price. No wonder he felt superior. He stood right there next to us all these years.” Michael’s jaw clenched. He would feel better if he knew where Alex was.

Max searched the room as well. Something was missing. It took a moment for him to filter the information. “Michael, Jonathan is missing!”

Michael cursed and the group of them split up, moving through the dark crowd searching and slowly working their way outward towards the exits. He had been there, and the room felt empty. He had been there and now was gone.

~~~

“Stop.”

Price stopped at the voice. He knew it. He heard it when Alex sang on stage, and he heard it yesterday in the meeting. Alex Whitman took away his cherished seat, his ultimate reward for living a perfect life with one word. Alex wasn’t the only one. But he would do.

Alex looked at the man Price had been following in the shadows, but the man was gone. Obviously realizing that something was wrong he had fled before he became entangled. He had walked out of the club with a promise of a quick f-uck or a blowjob, but not this.

“You wanted something, Mr. Whitman?” The man must have spotted him and followed. That was too bad for Mr. Whitman, but his body would be just as good as anyone else's.

Alex moved closer. “I want my cousin back. But that’s impossible. I want back the lives you took without regard, but that’s impossible. So I want your life in forfeit.”

Price smiled a sick smile, the humor was touched with a disease. “You knew! You knew yesterday!”

“I saw your eyes. I knew it from your eyes.”

“And you didn’t tell them?”

“No. They’d have taken you yesterday. I wanted you my way, on my turf, in my killing field.”

“I wanted Stiller. I tracked him here. There are so many goodies, so many possibilities to be had in your club. It’s a nesting ground of prime specimens. You’re not what I was looking for...but you'll do. Stiller and all the others can wait for another time. Things don’t always go as you plan, but other possibilities become open.”

Alex moved menacingly on the man, his eyes darker than his soul, bottomless and endless in their anger and fire. He burned from the inside out, and it was a fire that had raged for weeks unfettered and self-feeding. Alex calmly took a knife from his pocket, and snapped the blade open. Smiling at Price, he advanced again.

“I’ll take your heart in payment.” Price backed up, unarmed and facing an opponent unaffected by a drug, an opponent whose face showed no hesitation or remorse…he fingered the ampule of drug in his pocket and wondered if the amyl nitrate mix would subdue Whitman enough before Whitman’s knife found him.

It was the sound from the shadows that distracted them both. Alex turned to look there, but in a flash of light, a brilliance of power, he felt nothing as his body was hurled backwards to hit the wall of the club. He hit the ground in a heap, unmoving.

Price turned around in shock, and when his eyes met something not quite human, he suddenly realized that he had become the prey. He had stepped into the lion's trap, and was facing an angry competitor. He thought he was the hunter, but in an instant he realized his mistake. The last thing he knew as his life drained from his body was the burning in his chest, the smell of his own sweat, and a sense of darkness... He never even heard his own agonizing screams.

Michael came through the door fast with Max on his tail, close and to the left. Sean took another side door and they all came out in the alley. It was the darkness interrupted by a blinding light, and then an inhuman scream that paralyzed them for a moment, and then the three ran down the alley to the back side of the club. Sean saw Alex’s crumbled body on the ground first, but Max stopped and Sean and Michael continued on. Kyle ran from the other side of the club with Hanson close behind.

They stopped at the top of the alley, too afraid to move as both Michael and Sean knelt at a body. Another one. They were too late.

“It’s Price. He’s dead.” Michael informed them. They slowly came forward as Alex moaned where he lay. Max helped him to his feet slowly as he regained consciousness.

Alex looked at the crumbled body of Price, and felt nothing. Not even revenge or hate. It was over. The monster was slain and he would’ve preferred the honor of that task, had wanted it even, but this was okay, too.

Michael moved the singed cloth from Price’s chest, and they all looked at a glowing silver handprint. Both Sean and Michael stood up and searched the back alley, looking everywhere, but they were all there was. Price's Killer had melted into the night, unseen.

“So it’s over.” Kyle said.

“It’s just begun,” said Michael softly.

“What did this, Michael? Who?” Max stared at the handprint, the burn in the man’s shirt. It didn’t make sense.

Alex just shrugged. “He picked the wrong prey.” Alex started walking back into the club, and Michael motioned for Kyle and Hanson to stay.

Michael was close on Alex’s wake. “Whitman! Wait!” Alex stopped and looked at Guerin. Yeah. This was it. “You knew! You knew it was Price?”

“Yesterday.”

“And you said nothing?”

Alex shrugged. “You’ve got your methods and I’ve got mine. I’m not a team player, and the kill was my right. He soiled my home, took what was mine. I wanted him down in my ground. I gave him reason to find me, achieve me, but I didn’t plan that he would target Stiller or someone else. That was my mistake.”

“Jonathan?” Max suddenly remembered the missing Jonathan. “Oh sh-it!” Max rushed back into the club as Michael and Sean still faced Alex down.

“How did you know, Alex?” Sean asked quietly. They had all talked to Price in the past, and not once did they suspect.

“His eyes. They held the touch of a killer waiting, testing and wanting to hunt. He was too controlled. I saw it in his eyes, and he used them to hide his true nature.”

Michael just shook his head. He had hated Price from sight too, but not like Alex. “How can you know that? Know the killer’s eyes?”

Alex took out a cigarette and lit it looking at the two carefully. “I see it every day I look in the mirror. I see it in both of you.” Alex turned to go home. It was over - for now. But this wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning. They just traded one killer for another one. “There was someone here in the alley, standing in the shadows. Someone with Price when I arrived. He smelt of death. I thought he left, but I was wrong. He melted into the shadows and he took me out from ten feet away.” Alex looked back at Michael and Sean. “This is something new.”

Max rushed back into the crowded noisy club, and tried to move quickly through the crowds searching for Jonathan. It seemed like an eternity before he saw the man exit the men’s room. Rushing to his side, Max was uncertain what to do with his hands.

“Not now, Max. I’ve had more than I can take from you. And after standing in a piss line for ten minutes in a bathroom that should be declared a health hazard, my good nature is shot. If you want to see me, Detective, I suggest you get a bloody warrant, because...”

Jonathan never finished it, because Max’s mouth was on his in a deep kiss, his hands holding him hard against his body, as he slammed Jonathan into a wall and pressed up against him, hard.

When Jonathan could finally breath again, he cleared his throat. “I might have to press sexual assault charges.”

“Shut up!” Max’s hand rested on the wall next to Jonathan’s head, and he leaned in again and kissed the man.

It was late. The club had closed its doors early as support teams moved in. Alex was surprisingly co-operative, slightly bruised and seemed to be a touch concussed where his head had hit the wall. Every time he reached for the bottle of whiskey, Michael moved it away. Sean just snickered. Michael, mother hen. Who knew becoming a father would make him so nurturing?

Jonathan had taken Maria home, and they cleared the site. Simon was standing above the body of Price when Michael joined him.

“Ever see anything like this, Simon?”

“Never.” Simon frowned. This was going to bring trouble, and that was Trouble with a capital T. Captain Walt Stevens exited his patrol car and joined the men. Standing next to Guerin he looked at the body.

“That’s something new.” Walt just couldn’t believe it. He had been insane to take Valenti’s post, even temporarily. He had worked harder in two days than he had in the last six months. Dammit, he was retiring. “This is going to bring a hell of a lot of trouble for us. Guerin, you search the database first thing for anything like this, but keep it quiet. I’ll get a warrant for Price’s house. I put the call in an hour ago to the DA’s office, and the Judge has yet to call back. Clean this up tonight.”

Walt looked at the body and shook his head. “Simon, do this autopsy quick. This smells like something that the Suits are going to want. I know this is f-ucking Roswell, but this glowing handprint sh-it needs to take itself somewhere else. Take your time entering the information. The FBI types will find their way here pretty quick. Let's make it not so quick.”

“Michael!” Michael turned to look at his partner. “We’ve got the warrant.” Michael nodded at Max and after sharing a look with Simon and Cap, he looked at the darkened skies, and then at the corpse of Price. Rushing from the scene, he followed his partner to open up and investigate Price’s home.

It took them almost half an hour to find the Collection room. Michael and the others were shocked by the sterilized setup and workroom in the basement. Pierce kept Dobermans and Pit Bulls out back, and the basement was a sterling silver nightmare with blood drainage pits and special embalming equipment.

Once they entered the cool Collection room, Michael turned on a series of lights. Alex stood at his side with Sean to his left and a little back. No one questioned Alex’s right to be there. Hanson, Kyle and Max brought up the rear as other units and CSI were processing the upstairs rooms.

Michael watched the lights flicker on in an endless display of rows and rows of glass cubicles slowly being illuminated. The room started with a display of butterflies and moths, bugs and all insects, beetles, and such. Then the displays became animals, taxidermy samples of all sorts of mammals, and large fish mounted on the wall. Two rows into the Collection they found the first humans. Covered in the protective sheen of the shellac, they stood sleeping, pinned up against a wall behind glass. Beneath them were labels, and numbers cataloging them into the Collection and listing their attributes and the dates they had been added to the Collection.

Hanson made gagging noises and Kyle quickly helped him out of the room. Max remained silent at Michael’s side, but his hands were shaking almost as much as his insides, and the sight of endless rows of manufactured bodies was making his stomach churn. He felt empty, almost emotionless, like he would never be able to feel again.

Michael stood so silent, so austere in his regard that statues had more life. Max watched the strain on Michael’s jawline as the muscles jumped and clenched, and then suddenly Max saw a single tear run down his partner’s cheek.

“Holy sweet merciful, mother of God.” Sean stood in the center looking both ways. The rows stretched and stretched. Over ten years of collecting, and the kill ratios were unreal, unimaginable, and for a second in time, he wanted Price there under his hands. Alex was right. Price deserved a more gruesome death, to have his chest ripped open and his heart squeezed until all the life was gone. Sean searched for a cigarette, but didn't have one. And it didn’t matter; nothing could bring comfort. His hands shook and he felt dizzy and lightheaded on his feet. The desire to wash it away, to turn away was strong, but he couldn’t. They couldn’t. These people needed them to send them home.

“This has nothing to do with God,” said Alex in a hollow voice, searching the cubicles with their glass walls until he found her. Jennifer Quilter, his waitress, who was taken from his club. Sinking to his knees in front of her cubicle, he ran his hands over his face and wept, for her, for Krystal and for all the other nameless people in that room who had been lost for so long. He also cried for himself, because after all these weeks he needed the release.

~~~

Horror sometimes has no name, and no form. It doesn't live in a house, in a box or on a hill. You can't just walk around it, or even avoid it. It is like a cloud, a darkness... a disease that slides in like the smell of decay. It finds purchase in your body, heart, mind and soul. It is the worst of the things that bump in the night, and it doesn't just live under the bed or in the closet. Nothing can remove the feelings it inspires, but it can teach. It can teach you to fear, to live more carefully and somewhat more afraid. And it can teach you what is important in life. Horror isn't a physical entity, it lives only by the nature of what it is. It teaches. It teaches that between cradle and grave there are no absolutes, just a timeless march to the end. The real worth, the measure of a man is how he walks that march every day, and sometimes it is as simple as accepting that in life there are no guarantees, nothing can ever be enough, and you simply live with it.

The cold and tired warriors felt it following them home, ripping away a veil of innocence never to be found again.

It was already after four when he climbed in bed with her. They had left the scene for the forensic crews and come home to rest before another hard day dawned. Maria could feel the coldness of his skin and the shaking in his hands along with the tremors of his body. She turned into his skin, opened her arms and took him against her. He sighed a moment's peace and appreciated the warmth she gave him as her mouth found his and her hands gentled him.

Horror teaches you what is important, and to live within your limitations, accepting them while holding your loved ones inside and protected.

Kyle rushed into the condo and down the hall. Pausing in the doorway, he watched her, watched the gentle rise of her body as she breathed. And she did breathe, and kept on breathing. Sensing him, she turned in her sleep, and then slowly woke. Sitting up in the bed, among the tossed bedding and sheets, she held out her arms. Kyle rushed to her and buried his head in her skin and she stroked his back as he wept.

Horror teaches that being alone makes it only worse and that finding a part of yourself, a part lost or even denied, makes it easier to survive.

Jonathan opened his door standing in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms riding low on his hips. Taking one look at Max’s face and feeling the pain in his stance, Jonathan hooked a hand around his arm and pulled him inside. Closing the door, he bent down and looked Max in the eyes. It was the sudden welling of tears that made Jonathan forget everything. He never thought that Max would ever find his heart, but he had. Jonathan gathered the other man up against his body and held him firmly as they both sank to the ground in front of the door. He held him and let him cry as he rocked Max back and forth.

Horror teaches you to stop denying and running away from things you don't totally understand, fearing love because love gives no guarantees. Squandered chances sometimes never return, and living is for the now, because love doesn't always offer tomorrows.

Sean didn’t know what to do. Where to go. He wanted to go to her, but he couldn’t. He had no right. Not yet. So he slowly trudged home in the coldness of the night, as the air felt suddenly arctic and brisk with a hint of moisture. Entering his apartment, he tossed his keys in the bowl at the door, and slowly walked the long lonely walk to his bedroom. Maybe it would abate, lessen, hide inside to be teased out by a pesky therapist later, but Sean could feel it at the edge of his throat, like a lump occluding his breathing. Panic. It welled to the surface as he felt the need to scream, and searched his mind for the location of a paper bag. And suddenly her arms came up behind him. She had been sitting in the mohair chair in the dark, waiting for him. Julia heard the news from the police band that her assistant listened to, and it was Julia that pushed the search warrant through for them. Slowly lifting his shirt from his cold body, she felt the shivers racking him and the chattering of his teeth. Leading the way, she put him in the shower. They stood together, skin mated under the harsh rush of hot water, and she kissed his body, his scars, and wounds wanting to reach the ones so deep inside that not even the healing rays of the sun could touch.

Horror teaches deference, and respect. It is a formless entity that sinks in deep, permeating the pores, and no amount of pain or pleasure can remove it or hide it. Only acceptance and going on can make the difference.

Hanson closed the door to the gloom and heaviness of the outside air. It felt like rain. Moving through his house, he went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He had lost his stomach twice that night, and all that was left was an emptiness. Taking out some canned spray cheese, he grabbed a box of crackers, and searched for an imported beer. It was that special cheese at the back of his refrigerator that caught his eye. It was perfect. Taking it out, he scraped away the mold and placed a piece of the creamy aromatic cheese on his tongue. Leaning back in his chair he shut his eyes and willed the dancing images gone as he felt the mold slowly creep up the cheese.

Horror teaches you that some things aren't seen, but they still grow and fester as they wait to take control. That just because something isn't seen, it doesn't mean it isn't there.

Alex was leaning up against the door, waiting for her. Isabel stood there in the darkened doorway and looked at him. His face was still wet, and that air of being untouchable was gone. The sorrow racking his frame laid him bare. He looked young, too young to be so ravaged. Isabel opened her arms and he fell in them sobbing deep inside, but no sound left him. They closed the door on the outside, and sheltered away in a haven that existed for them alone. It was there that she could touch him and mend his wounds.

Horror teaches that alone in the darkness there is sometimes a light, a bright shining light that can warm even the coldest of souls, the souls that have been gone too long from home.

Roswell was a town shrouded in the darkness. They all lay in the dark being held and loved, waiting and finding no rest. None of them slept, it was still too fresh. Horror had taught them to fear the dark and the shadows in the night. And with the hush of a gentle breath held inside, they waited for the next wave. It was already there. So they all waited for the new day, the promise of warmth that came with light. It didn’t matter. Because horror had taught them that alone they were breakable, but together they were strong, that they could survive.

~~~

Michael returned from the forensics area and the final autopsy. All of Price’s internal organs had been fused in a conglomerate gel, and all the vessels of his heart were melted and exploded. He was blood pudding inside, and the silver handprint wasn’t metallic or any toxin or substance. All cultures removed no substance. Simon was pulling microscopic tissue samples, and the histology crew was fast, working under Liz Parker’s supervision. They were on a timetable, a deadline and after lunch that day it was over.

“What the hell is going on?!” Michael raged into the bullpen watching two men removing his files. They were packing up everything involved in the case. It came as a direct order from the Senate offices, a Senator Whitaker had stepped in and all materials were confiscated. The entire Department was under an injunction to divulge no details or discuss the findings of the case to anyone.

Cap Walt came to the office door and called Michael inside. Sean, Kyle, Hanson, and Max were already there. They had returned from lunch earlier than Michael who had gone home to see Maria. They were all quiet as Cap explained the situation. Michael kept his tongue. He knew it was a matter of time before the Feds descended, but he hoped for a day’s head start. The men where dismissed, as a young woman with blond hair entered the bullpen. She stopped and talked to the secretary. Michael never noticed her, and Max was equally oblivious as they all rushed out of the room to go into the breakroom for coffee.

Max shut the door and leaned against it. “You got it all, Max?” asked Michael quietly, as if there were people eavesdropping.

“Everything. Sean and Kyle got duplicate lab results, and Simon took extra photos and a video of the autopsy. Hanson took care of all Physical.”

Michael nodded, and sat back on the table sipping his coffee. “Are the computer searches done?”

Sean nodded as he refilled his coffee. “Parker ran them early and on a mirror site erasing the echo. All things are downloaded on a manual unit and it's gone, hidden. It took eight palm pilots, but she got all the information and Maria sent six extra units over just in case.”

Kyle stared at his coffee. “What are we doing, Michael?”

Michael just shook his head. “No clue. I just know it’s important. Anyone who wants free of this, leave now. It doesn’t go further than here. All the computer stuff is going to be given to Alex. He’s the genius, but the knowing stops here. No additions, no new people. Where this is leading, I don’t know. But the tighter we stay as a group, the least likely we’ll have leaks.” Michael stopped and looked at Hanson. “Sam? You green?”

Hanson was startled at the use of his first name. He hadn’t realized that Michael knew it. He looked at Max first and Max gave him a nod. Hanson nodded too. Yeah, he was in.

There was a knock on the door, and they all looked up as Rhonda opened the door and said that the Cap was requesting Michael. The rest exchanged looks and then looked elsewhere.

Michael approached the Captain’s office and found Cap talking to a young woman in her early twenties, so it appeared.

“Guerin.” The woman turned to look at Michael, and his eyes narrowed when she smiled at him. He caught a glimpse of recognition in her eyes, but he had never seen her before in his life. “This is a new member of the team, Detective Courtney Banks.” Walt looked through his paperwork, confused. “I’ve no notes telling me that we were expecting a transfer.”

“Captain Valenti...”

“Stevens. It’s Captain Stevens. Captain Valenti is away on his honeymoon. He’ll be back in just over a week.”

“Well, he requested more manpower, and that was...”

Walt cut her off and looked Michael. “What do you think, Guerin?”

Guerin looked at the woman and shrugged. She looked too young to be a Detective, and unless he read her file or had reason to care, he didn’t like her. “Hanson is partnerless. He could show her around, orient her and keep her out of trouble until Cap gets back.” Walt nods. That’s a good plan. Dammit, this place was like a madhouse with the Feds coming in and confiscating all their files, threatening his people - and now this.

“Done.” Michael nods and headed back out.

Courtney watched him go with a careful look on her face. “Why can’t I partner with him? Let him train me and keep me out of trouble?”

“Guerin? You want to partner with Guerin? Well for one thing, see that nice looking man over there,” Walt pointed to Max, “that would be Guerin’s partner. And then add the two men also sitting with them. Guerin has enough partners, and the fact is that in this department, Guerin is top detective, but he’s also a rude son-of-a-bitch and he is forbidden to train.” Walt looked out at the room and saw Hanson coming back from records. “Hanson! Get your ass in here, now!” Walt looked at the woman and smiled, a not so pleasant smile. “That’s your new partner.”

It only took two hours before Michael decided that this new Courtney person was going to have to go. Every time he turned around, she was there. Smiling, trying to talk to him, or just in his space. The irritation was on his face and his partner just snickered as he sneered at her. Finally even Hanson took notice and pulled Courtney away.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m going to paint you a scene. First, Guerin has a partner, and it’s not you. Second, the man is committed to a ongoing relationship which includes marriage and a baby on the way.” Hanson missed the startled look from the woman. “And last but not least, if you don’t get out of his way and stop irritating him, he’s going to stomp on you. Guerin doesn’t like strangers in his space, and he doesn't play well with others.”

Courtney looked at her mild-mannered klutzy partner and was impressed. That was quite the speech. She just nodded reluctantly. There was plenty of time to observe the commander. Looking at her new partner she suddenly realized that beneath that mild-mannered exterior there was more lurking there, unknown.

Michael picked up his phone, and practically snarled in it. “Guerin!” He paused and listened, made a few rude comments and finally waited until Jim Valenti came on the line. They talked for a few moments with Michael promising to send money, and come if it was necessary. Hanging up the phone, he made a loud whistling noise to quiet the bullpen, and Walt came out the door to listen as well.

“Okay, listen up people! That was Cap. He and Mrs. Valenti, the once Amy DeLuca have been arrested in Alaska for possession of illegal contraband in the form of endangered species while on their honeymoon. That makes it officially approximately fifty-one hours after being married to the delectable Amy DeLuca, that our Cap was arrested. The Game and Wildlife Agency is pressing charges and holding them until an investigation can be completed. It appears that the Cap and Amy busted some poachers and confiscated their illegal contraband of Narwhal tusks. So they were arrested late last night, eleven-thirty Alaska time. So whoever held that time wins the pool.” The entire office rushed to the bulletin board to see who held the winning time. Their department had been ticketed and fined for illegal gaming numerous times, due to all the departmental pools they ran, but this time even IA was in on the pool. The bets of how long it would take for Amy DeLuca to get Jim Valenti arrested was a heavy betting pool, running impressive odds. By marrying Amy, Jim took on the responsibility that Maria once had.

Courtney watched the entire room and them having fun in the face of the horror they suffered over the past few days. It was during a lull, and watching Guerin and Evans leave for the day that had her picking up the phone.

“This is Courtney. No, I was too late. The Feds confiscated everything. But the rumors and talk indicate it was the shapeshifter.” She was a tracker. After years of following every possible clue this was the best lead she had had in months. Their time was short, and they needed to find what they were looking for soon, or all was lost. She listened and frowned at the phone. “No, I’m staying here. You know the Royals in New York? How badly they came out? Well, they don’t know where the Granilith is, and I think I know why.” Courtney listened to the other end for a moment. “I just met the reason, or reasons. I can’t be sure yet, but I think I found the real Royals here in Roswell. The ones in New York have to be bad duplicates, rejects. I’ve found the Commander and the King.”

~~~

Maria and Tess lay on the floor in the living room with a fire going. It was wet and rainy outside, very unusual for Roswell. The Loft was open and warm, and the two women were waiting for the others to find their way home. They decided to have a huge dinner with everyone involved in the cover-up, to discuss strategy. Isabel was responsible for getting Alex there.

“So was Kyle okay after last night?”

“About as well as could be expected. Do you know the final body count?” Tess asked as she dug her spoon in the carton of Ben & Jerry’s New York Fudge Chunk ice cream, sucking on the spoon. They where lying opposite each other facing the other’s face as Maria’s legs stretched out past Tess’s head, and Tess’s past Maria’s. Maria was too busy eating Waverly Gravy holding out her hand for the Tabasco sauce to douse the ice cream with it.

“Michael didn’t say at lunch. He’s still not handling this too well. I’m worried about him.” Tess just nodded. “I’m just hoping this isn’t going to send him on another bout of over-protectiveness.”

“Give him a break, Maria. He came close to losing both you and the baby just a few days ago. That’s got to be hard.” They had been talking about Kenneth Price and the horror that he created, his death and everything connected to it until they had to seek refuge in ice cream.

“I know. But you have no idea what it’s like with an overbearing Michael Guerin keeping a close eye on you.”

Tess just snorted. “I should have it so lucky. Sunday afternoon? Max and Kyle went shopping together. Came back with a huge, HUGE calendar, one of the planner kinds, and they started mapping out my delivery date, my appointments, an exercise schedule, my diet and Lamaze classes. It’s a nightmare. When they started to talk about constipation and hemorrhoids, I ran away and hid at the mall.”

“Constipation and hemorrhoids? No! That’s not going to happen? I mean I thought it was just about getting fat, swelling ankles and backaches. You know, not being able to see your feet.”

Tess just sighed and patted Maria on the hand. “Whatever you do, just don’t read any of those books. It’ll freak you.”

“Damn. Michael’s been reading them non-stop. The other night,” Maria took another bite of ice cream to consol herself, “he poked me.”

“Poked you? You mean with his...” Tess wiggled her eyebrows. Maria laughed and slapped her.

“Not that way! Okay, well, not that time. No. I mean he was rubbing my feet while reading and suddenly he’s poking my legs.” Tess looked confused. “I know. It stunned me too. He read that I’d retain water and he was checking my legs to see if they dimpled.”

“Damn! What book was he reading?” Tess wanted to make sure that Kyle and Max didn’t find it. With her luck the three lunatics were sharing information and starting a network of Insane Expectant Fathers Anonymous. And they thought women were moody!

“Something with a baby on it? I don’t know. But my point is that he’s poking me like a damn turkey to see if I’m done.”

“This is bad. Real bad.” Tess looked at Maria. “Switch?”

Maria looked in her carton of ice cream and nodded. The two women passed each other their carton of ice cream and resumed eating.

“So you tell Max about wanting to name the baby after Jack?”

“Yeah, and he’s okay with that. He just requested that the middle name be Philip for his father.”

“That’s so sweet. Jackson Philip...doesn’t roll off the tongue, but I’ve heard worse. Michael hasn’t really started worry about names yet. He’s been doing research on baby beds. I heard him mumbling under his breath about reinforced titanium steel supports and reinforcement bars. I tried to remind him that it would be a nice sweet baby, and not a hardened criminal, but the last time I looked he was still researching all the available products.”

Tess laughed. The guys were really out there. It was like they were feeding each others' enthusiasm, and Tess wondered if on her delivery day Max and Kyle would rush off in a frenzy and leave her behind.

“We found Mr. Booboo’s secret stash!”

“No! I can’t believe that he’s a kleptomaniac. Where was it?”

Maria pointed to a large armoire in the living room. “Behind that. And what was back there was truly amazing. Michael’s just glad to have his belt back, and we’ve found Kyle’s keys.” Maria just shook her head. Was it too much to ask for something normal in her life, like a sweet kitty? “Michael thinks he was collecting trinkets for the baby.”

“Aw.” Tess suddenly felt bad for all the evil names she gave the cat while babysitting him.

“Michael discovered why Gerald Tiny was following me around.”

“A blowjob?”

“Nothing that icky! He found out that I was on the appointment committee for his Department, and he wanted to convince me to help get him appointed as his Departmental Chair. I guess he felt that if he showed interest in Janet’s murder it would project an image of a Professor who really cared about his students.”

“Maybe you should suggest to him that if he stopped having his graduate students suck his tiny dick for passing grades, and started to actually teach them would be a better testament to his sincerity.”

Maria just thought about it for a moment. “It might. It just might. Gosh, have you ever wondered how tiny is Gerald Tiny’s tiny?”

Tess couldn’t stop laughing. “In a word, no.”

“So Tess, have your nipples started to get sore, yet?” Maria asked in interest looking down at her not so prominent endowment.

“No. But my breasts are definitely larger, and they’re sensitive in a good way. It really makes for great sex.”

Maria smiled at that. “Something to look forward to! I’m hoping that when all this is done that I get to keep the breasts. I really would like something more in the handful size.” Tess just laughed. “Are you like horny and turned on all the time? Because maybe it’s me, but damn Michael is looking so fine!”

“It’s not just you. He is very fine looking, and yeah, I could crawl all over Kyle for a good half a day and just consider it appetizers.”

Michael and Kyle entered the Loft arguing over who should take off to Alaska to bail out Amy and Jim. Michael located his property and the ice cream she was eating and went over for a bite. Maria fed him, and then took a kiss with great enthusiasm and when he started to pull away, she kissed him again, biting his lip. Tess laughed at Michael’s deep groan, but before she could make a comment, Kyle took the ice cream away from her.

“Tess, this stuff is loaded with butter cream, fats and sugars.” Kyle started reading the ingredients and Tess just rolled her eyes, but enjoyed his fussing.

“It does a body good.” Tess got up from the floor and decided to take herself and her small bladder for a moment of peace from her overprotective husband. Kissing his head, she told him she would be right back.

She chuckled on her way to the Room as Michael told Maria the sad tale of Amy and Jim. As she left the room Max showed up carrying takeout. They had ordered on their way home, and he volunteered to go pick it up, after he picked up Isabel and Whitman who was still at their place.

“This weighs a ton, Michael. How much did you order?”

Michael looked over at his partner and called him a wimp. “Enough to feed the Professor and a party of sixty.”

Isabel entered the loft and left the door ajar for Alex. Michael quickly went to punch in the override code before they set off the alarm and helped her put her load down on the counter.

“Liz said she would be over as soon as she went home and changed.” Isabel started opening containers.

“I thought you were bringing Alex.” Michael said nabbing a dinner roll.

“I did. He stopped to get beverages and I suspect a pack of cigarettes. He needs to stop that habit.” Maria came to stand next to Michael putting the now empty carton of ice cream on the counter and reached for some bread too.

“Sean called. He had an errand to run, but he’ll be here for food. His instructions were...'Do not eat it all'.” The group snickered and looked at both Michael and Maria who were already tearing into the food like they were starving.

Alex came through the door toting a case of beer, and a pack of bottled water when Tess came out of the bathroom.

Suddenly in an instant, flashing hard and brilliant was a resounding light, almost echoing through the room connecting Max, Isabel, Michael, and Tess, and the energy went on to engulf Maria as she clutched her womb the same moment that Tess did. The energy blast of white light exploded outward and left the group in concentric circles of shockwaves, knocking Kyle over and making Alex grab the door to stay upright.

They all stood there shocked and confused, and Maria could feel a connection to everything and everyone in the room. It was the sound of breaking glass and Alex cussing that startled them all back to awareness, as Kyle rushed to check on Tess along with Max. Michael pulled Maria to his side as his hand rested on her stomach and rubbed it. She could still feel the movement of energy in her womb. It wasn’t her that had connected with the other four, but her unborn child.

Alex looked down at the broken case of beer that he dropped when the energy pulse hit him.

“Dammit! F-ucking Roswell, and all its aliens. Great! I better go get some more beer.”

Alex left the loft, and the group looked at each other. Aliens? Um,...Alex?

THE END

Fic