CHAPTER 31

Alex stood in the DeLuca kitchen and watched Isabel pace, her face tense. Max and Liz spoke quietly together; she seemed to be reassuring him about something or other. Probably that it would be all right, that she knew Maria and could tell that she needed this time alone with Michael. Alex could guess what the dynamic duo in the living room were arguing about--uh, discussing. He wished now he hadn't been so quick to blurt out another excuse for Michael, but Maria had looked so panicked. Probably for Michael's sake. So he'd opened his mouth and the lie had come pouring out before he could even realize what he was doing.

Michael was back. Actually, it wasn't that hard to see even without an admission from him. He was acting way too emotional for the ice-cold personality he'd shown them all over the last month. Alex hoped that no one else would realize it until Michael was ready to come clean. And he hoped that that time would be very, very soon.

And not only was Michael wide-band broadcasting every emotion he was feeling, he had given Maria visions. So much for having no powers, huh? Another sure sign that the brooding alien was back again. He supposed they were lucky that Michael's loss of emotional control hadn't spread to his powers, or he could have accidentally trashed Maria's house. And, eclectic though the décor was, Alex didn't think any of it would be improved by being blown up.

With a sigh, he reached for a can of root beer that was sitting with some other drinks on the counter. The DeLucas usually kept a supply of it for when he came over. Flipping open the top, he ignored the glasses that were set out and took a swig. Unfortunately, it didn't do much to ease his troubled mind. It was just root beer, after all, not some miracle elixir.

Looking around the room, he watched Liz, mid-sentence in quiet conversation with Max. They both seemed so sure of themselves, so in control. Ready to do whatever was necessary. They made quite a contrast with Isabel, who was moving restlessly around the room like a very large tiger in a very small cage.

Max's eyes also focused on his sister. "Iz?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

She ceased her pacing, and frowned. "Do you get the feeling something's wrong?"

"Of course. That's why we're here, to talk about it," Max assured her.

"No, not that," she said, brushing it aside. "There's more to it than Maria's threatening notes and Michael's missing personality parts. Don't you get the feeling something is...different?"

"Different how?"

"Different with Michael." She looked uneasily around the room. "When I healed him, I didn't get any flashes. I mean, I didn't see anything, but I got the feeling there was something going on. He felt...shadowed."

"It could just be the other half of him coming through. They're connected somehow," Liz reminded her.

"Maybe."

Alex tensed. He knew better. If Michael was already back--and he was, Alex knew it--then what was causing Isabel's uneasiness?

Max looked thoughtful. "Was that why you were pushing to hear what Maria saw? To find out if she'd gotten the same feeling?" Isabel nodded, and he continued, "I thought it was a little strange. I mean, usually it's Michael prodding us to find answers, not the other way around."

"But that's just it, Max," Isabel burst out. "He's not like that, not any more. He doesn't seem to care about anything now. Except keeping Maria safe." Tears welled up in her eyes. "It's not that I'm jealous of that, honestly. I'm glad that she's a link for him to hold on to. It's just that..." Her voice trailed into a whisper. "I miss him, Max. I miss the real Michael."

Crossing to his sister, Max hugged her tightly. "I know, Izzy. So do I."

Alex began to mentally pummel himself. If he hadn't stepped in to help Michael out, the alien would have been forced to tell the truth, ready or not. And Isabel wouldn't be crying right now. She might be yelling at her almost-brother, sure, but she wouldn't be weeping on Max's shoulder. Not cool, collected Queen Isabel. Miserably, he looked away from the brother and sister. Liz's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"We'll get him back, you know," she said firmly. "The situation isn't hopeless. I mean, he gave Maria visions. So his powers aren't completely cut off. That's a step in the right direction, isn't it?"

Alex snuck uneasy glances at the other three. That was more than a step in the right direction. If they kept heading down that path, they'd realize what was really going on, and then the alien shit would really hit the fan. And he honestly didn't know if Michael could handle that right now...

Luckily, he was saved from having to take any action by a knock on the door.

Michael stared down at the pixie girl in front of him. Human, she said he was. In all the ways that mattered. But he knew better. He was alien, too. After all, he was designed, wasn't he? And by someone who'd really botched up the job.

Maria looked anxiously at him. She couldn't read his thoughts exactly, but thanks to the visions he'd given her, was pretty sure she could guess what he was thinking. And it wasn't going to help much.

There was a knock on the archway leading into the hall, and Alex stuck his head inside. "Pizza's here," he announced. "Do you want it in here or the kitchen?"

"What?" said Maria, startled. "Oh...I don't care. In here, I guess. We may as well be comfortable while we eat." Alex turned to go, but stopped when she said his name. "Alex? Thank you for helping us before."

He stopped and said wryly, "I'm not sure it did much good. They know something's up." As Michael's jaw clenched, he explained, "They don't know yet. Or at least no one's brought it up. But Isabel could tell something was different when she healed you, Michael. Besides, you haven't exactly been low-profile with your emotions, and you used your supposedly non-working powers to give Maria visions. It's not going to be long before they realize what's happened. You should tell them before they figure it out on their own," he advised.

"I can't. Not now. It's bad enough that you two know," Michael said hoarsely. "I'll tell them, I will, but not yet. When I can deal with it." He looked Alex in the eye, and managed an unaccustomed, "Please."

"Give us some time," Maria begged.

Knowing he'd probably regret it even more that he already did, Alex nodded, but he left the room with a warning. "There's not a lot of time left."

Maria watched him uneasily as he left, then turned to Michael. "Okay, the ball's in your court, Spaceboy. How do you want to handle things?"

"Let's just get through this meeting. I'll worry about the rest later."

"You mean we'll worry about the rest later," she corrected.

"I don't want you getting any more involved with this than you already are," Michael declared. "I shouldn't have shown you anything before. It was a mistake."

Maria looked up at him. "Well, you did and I'm glad. I think it'll help me understand you better."

"Maybe I don't want to be understood," he retorted.

Laughing, Maria reached up and patted his cheek. "Don't worry, you'll still do plenty of things that will be a total mystery to me. And they won't have anything to do with your alien status, either--they'll come straight from your being a guy." She turned and headed to the doorway. "Come and help me carry in some drinks and stuff, okay?" she said and he slowly followed her into the kitchen.

A short while later the six regrouped back in the living room with pizza, drinks, and a bottle of Tabasco sauce which Max found in the Jeep. For a while there was silence as everyone dug in, but eventually, Isabel couldn't stand it any longer.

"Well, are we going to talk about what happened or not?" she burst out.

"Let's stick to the outline we set up last night," Max suggested. "We need to come up with an action plan to deal with the notes Maria's been getting, and then figure out how to get Michael back to himself. Then we'll talk about anything else we need to."

"You and your outlines," Isabel grumbled. "I bet you have it all written out somewhere and color-coded, don't you?"

"The color-coding would be Liz's contribution," Maria told her blithely. "She likes to be over-organized." Liz rolled her eyes, and Maria hurriedly reassured the taller girl. "Don't worry about it, Isabel. We've got plenty of time to talk about whatever we need to. My mom won't be home for hours yet."

Taking charge, Max asked, "Okay, anyone have any ideas who might be behind the notes?"

"Someone who doesn't like me very much," commented Maria wryly.

"Or someone who doesn't like something you've done," added Liz. "Remember the second note: 'You won't get away with it.' What won't you get away with?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, what have you done that's unusual?"

"Nothing. I go to school, rehearsal, and work, and I fight with Michael. Nothing new there."

"It doesn't make sense."

Maria frowned. "I'm still not sure it really has to do with me. I mean, the stuffed alien--you three have got to have more enemies than I do."

"But why would anyone attack us through you?" asked Isabel. "Why not come directly to us?" No one had any good ideas about that one.

"Well, I don't know what else we can do, except to keep an eye out. And be very, very careful. We can't afford to take any risks," said Max.

The others agreed. Thoughtfully, Liz added, "Maybe we ought to step up the Maria watching detail. I mean, no offense to Alex or to me, but it might be good to have someone with powers around her as much as possible. Just in case."

Isabel nodded. It made sense. "Well, Maria, I guess I'm your new best friend. Max and I will split up as much of the time as possible."

"Don't forget about Michael," Maria said stoutly. "He's done a pretty good job keeping me out of trouble so far."

Michael, his face stony, looked away. "Yeah, so far under my watch you've gotten a bunch of harassing notes and broken bones. So much for my doing a good job."

"I trust you." The statement was calm and entirely honest.

He shook his head. "Liz is right. You should have Max or Isabel to protect you. It's safer that way."

"Michael," she said pointedly.

He knew what she was trying to tell him. "No, Maria, it's no use. I can't control my powers, remember? The last thing we need is to have me blow you up. I won't take a chance on hurting you."

"That didn't stop you from lurking around before!" she snapped, incensed. "So why is it any different now?"

"Because I didn't have my powers then!" he roared back at her. "I couldn't use them, remember? And now--" he cut off abruptly, seeing the two other aliens and one human looking at him very interestedly. Alex was sitting, his eyes closed, half in resignation and half in relief.

"What's going on, Michael?" Max said softly. "You told us you couldn't use your powers."

Maria held her breath. Michael looked trapped, and she had no idea how to help him out of this one. She watched uneasily as the frustration began to build on Max's face. "Michael," he said in warning.

Michael looked at him for a minute and then moved abruptly to the window, his old taciturn self. He said nothing, but the set tenseness of his shoulders reminded her how unready he was for this confrontation. And yet she could tell that Max wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. She would just have to shield him as best she could. From her place on the couch, Maria answered. "It's Michael. He's back."

"Is this true?" asked Isabel in excitement.

Michael didn't turn towards them, remaining facing the window and the encroaching twilight, as if he would rather be there in the growing darkness than in the cozy warmth of the DeLuca living room. But he spoke. One word. "Yeah."

"But how? When did this happen?" she rushed on.

Still facing away from them, he muttered something too unintelligible for them to understand. Standing, Max called him on it. "What was that, Michael?"

His voice came again, a bit more clearly this time. "Couple of days ago."

"What? " Max burst out incredulously.

Maria decided to step in. "The last dreamwalk. It actually worked," she said matter-of-factly. "I figured it out this afternoon when I saw his arm. He burnt it trying to use his powers in the round room, and when he came back, he brought the burns with him too. That's how I knew he was himself again."

Liz looked appraisingly at Alex. "So there was no grease fire?" He had the grace to look ashamed as he shook his head.

"It was my fault," Maria told her. "Alex knew I didn't want to let the news out yet, so he helped me cover it up. It's not his fault--he was just being a good friend."

"It wasn't your fault either, Maria," said Max, trying to control the anger in his voice. "You figured it out today, you said? Well, who kept it a secret from Saturday until today? That's four days, Michael," he pointed out.

"I really don't think--" Maria began.

"No, I put the blame where it belongs. What is going on with you, Michael?" Max said directly to his friend's back. "How could you keep this a secret from us? And worse, how could you drag Maria and Alex into lying for you?"

"He didn't drag us into it, Max. We did it on our own," Maria put in defiantly.

"He may not have asked directly, but that doesn't mean he didn't get you to do it. Michael, how could you use them like that? They're your friends. How can you possibly excuse that? Don't you think things are bad enough already, without you adding to the problem?"

Michael swung around to look Max directly in the eye. "Don't stop now, Max. Go ahead and finish. You won't be saying anything I haven't already said to myself."

"I very strongly doubt that. What were you thinking?" Max retorted. "I don't understand you. You say you're back. Well, the Michael I know might get into a lot of trouble, but he wouldn't cause this mess. He wouldn't lie to us, much less use his friends this way."

Michael snapped.

"What would you know about it, Max? Alien or not, you've always lived in your perfect little world with your perfect little life and your perfect family. Hell, you've always been perfect. The strong one. The one who can handle anything. What the hell would you know about who I am? You think you know what my life is like, what it's like to be me, but you can't know. Nobody can." Moving to him, Maria took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Even you," he told her, pulling away. "I don't know what you saw, but it's not the same as living through it. Knowing you're flawed, that something was broken in you when you were born. Knowing that however much you try, you'll always be a fuckup. You can't ever understand."

Once again his eyes met Max's. "I don't want you feeling sorry for me though, Max. It's not your fault. How could it be? It's just the way things are," he said bitterly. "But don't think for a minute that you can get even a fraction of what I am."

From across the room, Alex quietly warned, "Michael." The alien's attention flashed over to the hapless teen and then followed Alex's gaze down to his own hands. They were starting to glow.

With a muffled curse, Michael bolted for the door, intent on escape before he hurt someone. He came to a halt just before he reached the doorway, and facing away from them, he said hoarsely, "Will one of you stay here until Mrs. DeLuca gets home?"

"I'll stay," volunteered Alex immediately.

"So will I," Isabel added. "We're keeping someone with powers around, remember?"

With a curt nod, Michael was out of the living room. A few seconds they heard a door slam and the sound of running footsteps fading into the distance. And then there was complete silence.

Finally Max cleared his throat. "Well, I--"

"Get out." Maria's voice was quiet and controlled, but it still caused Max to look over at her, startled. "I think you had better leave, Max."

"Maria, I--" he began.

She shook her head. "No. No. You need to leave. Michael left because he didn't want to hurt anyone, but right now, I am not feeling quite that charitable. So unless you want to use your healing powers on yourself, I suggest you get out now before I decide to ignore Michael's good example and do you bodily harm." She looked at him, her face rigid but her eyes blazing.

"Why don't you walk me home, Max?" asked Liz gently. "That way Isabel still has the Jeep and can drive Alex home once Mrs. DeLuca is back. All right?"

Max looked around the room. Catching his sister's eye, some communication seemed to pass between them, and he nodded. "All right, Liz."

"Good." Crossing to Maria, Liz gave her a supportive hug. "Call me when you want to talk, okay?" The blonde girl nodded. "Come on, Max. Let's go."

He allowed Liz to take his arm, but stopped before taking more than a step. "Maria, I--" he began again.

"No. I don't want to hear any more. Not tonight. Please," she said. Her voice began to wobble.

"You can talk to her tomorrow, Max," Liz said firmly. Putting her hand on his arm, she pulled him from the room.

Her voice trembling, Maria told the remaining two, "You can stay until Mom gets back if you want. I'm going to bed." Alex looked at his watch as she left the room. It was 7:13.

Isabel looked nervously at him. "What just happened?" she asked in disbelief.

For once, Alex had no answers.

CHAPTER 32

Isabel and Alex were still sitting, lost in thought, when a car pulled up and dropped Amy DeLuca off several hours later. She came in through the kitchen, dropping her purse on the counter. "Maria?" she called.

Rising, Alex greeted her as she stuck her head in the living room. "Hi, Mrs. DeLuca."

"Hi, Alex, Isabel," she responded warmly. "How was dinner?"

"Fine, thanks, Mrs. DeLuca," responded Isabel politely.

Looking around, her face wrinkled in puzzlement, Amy asked, "So where's the hostess?"

"Actually, Maria wasn't feeling too well--" Isabel began.

Alex added, "She had a headache or something."

"--so she went to bed. We just stayed to make sure she was all right, until you got home," finished Isabel.

"Just the two of you?" Amy said, a hint of suspicion in her tone.

"Yeah. The others left a while ago."

Amy nodded. "Thanks for looking out for her."

"No problem, Mrs. DeLuca. I guess we'll head out now," said Alex.

"Come on Alex, I'll give you a ride home." Isabel grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "Mrs. DeLuca?"

"Yes, Isabel?"

"Will you please tell Maria we'll see her tomorrow?"

"I sure will. Thanks again."

The two teenagers were soon gone, and Amy headed to Maria's room. The door was shut, and she opened it slowly, not wanting to wake her daughter if she was asleep. Maria was curled up in bed, huddled under a blanket even though the house wasn't cold. In the light from the hallway, Amy could see the old, faded pajamas that she had climbed into. The flannel, which had once sported little sheep all over it, was the nightwear version of a security blanket; Maria only wore them when she needed a little extra comfort.

Not wanting to disturb her daughter's rest, Amy began to pull the door closed. A wan voice stopped her. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey," Amy returned, crossing to the bed. "Alex said you weren't feeling well."

"I'm all right."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Amy stroked the tousled head on the pillow. "Are you sure? You don't sound too good."

"I told you, I'm fi--" Maria's voice broke at that word. "Fine. I'm fine," she managed, then sat up into the comfort of her mother's arms. Amy held her as she sobbed silently.

"Oh, honey," she said, rubbing Maria's back gently. "Shhhh. Shhhhh." When the girl's sobs began to lessen, Amy wiped her damp cheeks off with the corner of the blanket. "What happened tonight? Did you and your friends have a fight?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom," Maria sniffed.

Amy stiffened as an unwelcome thought popped into her head. That Guerin boy had been here, the one that had already broken her daughter's heart at least once. "Did...did someone hurt you, Maria?"

"No. I'm fine." Maria pulled back as she realized what her mother was asking. "You mean Michael, don't you?" she stated, looking into Amy's concerned face. "You think that Michael hurt me."

"I only thought that--"

"Michael would never hurt me. Not on purpose," Maria said fervently. "Don't ever think that."

"I'm sorry, honey. I just saw that you're upset, and I'm worried for you. I'm your mother, so it's allowed. I don't like to see you hurting."

"I am hurting. But not from Michael, for Michael," Maria whispered. "Tonight, we talked, and he...he let me into his life more than he ever has before, and...Oh, Mom." She swallowed, trying to clear the lump from her throat. "Did you know that Michael is an emancipated minor now?"

"I heard something about that, yes," her mother said.

"Did you also hear anything about his last foster home?"

Amy shrugged. "Only that his foster father left town. Jim Valenti mentioned something about it when it happened, I think."

"Hank--that was his foster father--used to drink. A lot," Maria faltered. "And when he did, he would..." She gripped her mother's hand tightly. "He would hurt Michael," she finished in a whisper. Amy was silent.

"I knew it had happened," her daughter went on, forcing the words out. "But I didn't know how...bad it really was. Tonight, he let me see what his life was really like."

"Oh, honey. I am so sorry." Amy tightened her grip around the woebegone girl.

"I know you don't like him, Mom," Maria whispered. "But just think--if it weren't for you, that could have been me. But I always had you. Michael had nobody. It hurts. It hurts more that anything has ever hurt. And I can't fix it." She burrowed into her mother's arms, and Amy sat holding her, murmuring soft words of comfort. When the girl finally fell asleep, Amy pulled the blanket back up under her chin, tucking her in as she had when Maria was little. She sat, carefully and lovingly watching over her daughter, as Maria slept.

Maria looked listlessly at the lunch in front of her. Her mother had gotten up early to pack it for her, but even though Amy had included some of Maria's favorite foods, she couldn't seem to drum up any appetite for it. Maybe it was the uneasy sleep she'd had the night before, maybe it was the pop quiz they'd had in math third period, maybe it was how angry she'd been with Max the night before.

Oh, who was she kidding? It was because Michael had been a no-show in English that morning, and she was worried about him. She'd been late to second period because she'd called his apartment, but he hadn't answered and the answering machine didn't pick up. She had no idea where he was, and in the state of mind he'd been in last night, she couldn't even begin to guess what he might be doing.

A shadow falling over her pulled her out of her reverie. "Maria?" a hesitant voice said. "Can I talk to you?" She gave a short nod but didn't say anything further as Max sat down opposite her. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have gotten so angry," he began.

She shrugged it off. "We shouldn't have kept it a secret, anyway. Besides, we were all angry last night, Max. It wasn't just you."

"I know. But I'm still sorry."

"You don't need to tell me that. You need to tell Michael."

Max flushed. "I would, but it looks like he's cutting school today."

"I know. I tried calling him, but he's not answering," she said.

He gave a noncommittal grunt. After a few moments of silence, she tried to change the subject. "So where is everybody?"

"I uh...I asked them to give us some space so I could talk to you," he admitted.

"So, you're talking. Now what?" she asked.

"Maria, I need to ask you something. About Michael."

She gave a shrug. "I'll answer whatever I can without betraying Michael's trust."

Max looked at her intently. "Why did you ask Isabel to heal Michael's arm? She can do it, but I'm more experienced, and...I've been thinking about it, and it really bothers me that you wouldn't let me help."

"It wasn't anything you did, Max. I know you're really great at it--I've got the ankle to prove it. But I had to look at it from Michael's point of view, and right now, he doesn't need any more reminders that you are a healer." She met his eyes squarely. "He hasn't been able to deal with killing Pierce, yet. And remember what he said that day? You heal people and he kills them. He can't help but compare himself to you, and in his eyes, he always comes out behind."

"That's ridiculous," Max burst out.

"You know that and I know that," Maria told him. "But Michael is so wrapped up in blaming himself that he can't think about it objectively. He can only feel. And what he feels--Max, I don't think you have any idea of all the weight he's carrying around. It's not just Pierce, you know. It goes back much further than that."

She sighed. "I'm not even sure that I can appreciate how bad things have been for him, and I saw a whole lot of it--in a Technicolor direct feed with surround sound, no less. And you know what? I am so terribly proud of him. He's been through so much, Max. A weaker person would have cracked a long time ago, but not Michael. He has swallowed almost everything that's ever been done to him, so it wouldn't draw attention to the three of you, so he wouldn't get in anyone else's way.

"He looks up to you, so much. Use it, Max. Help him see how special he is, how he deserves so much more than he's been given. Because as much as I love him, I don't know if that's enough to get through to him." Maria looked down at the table in front of her and spoke in a low tone. "He is so focused on his alien side--maybe it has to come from you and Isabel. I don't know," she said with a sigh. Looking directly into Max's eyes, she pleaded, "Please don't let him down, Max."

Max was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "I'll try not to. But it's so hard for me to read him lately. He was never exactly open, but I still used to be able to tell what he was thinking. I knew what to expect." He sighed. "Now it's not that simple."

Maria looked at him gently. "You get older, and things become more complicated. It happens to everyone, Max. Even Czechoslovakians." She smiled sadly. "I have the feeling that, impressions aside, Michael was always pretty complex. He just didn't let anyone see it before."

Max considered this, thinking rapidly. "Do you think it would help him to talk about it? What's happened to him, I mean. Izzy and I knew he had things rough, but maybe we only touched the surface of it. Maybe talking about it would help."

"I'm not sure he'll ever be able to open up that much about things, Max." She shook her head. "It's hard enough getting him to tell you what he had for lunch yesterday--so talking about things that he's kept inside his whole life? I don't know. I'm not a psychiatrist. All I know to do is to support him as much as I can, and let him do things in his own time."

Night had long since fallen on Roswell that evening when Michael Guerin began the long walk from the Lift Off gas station to...well, he wouldn't really call it 'home', but it was the closest thing he had. He should actually be grateful to still have a job to come 'home' from, he supposed. His mind certainly hadn't been on pumping gas or the paying customers over the last few days.

He could hardly believe he'd almost set his powers off on Max the night before. He'd been so angry, and the frustration and pain and rage that he was now living with on a daily basis had been too much. Actually, he was still angry with Max, but he was angrier at himself. How had he expected Max to react upon finding out that Michael had been keeping this secret from him? Pat him on the back and award him the Nobel Prize? Michael grunted sarcastically.

Some second-in-command he was; he could have single-handedly wiped out his 'fearless leader'. Max had every right to be furious; he didn't. And yet he still felt the burning anger which he'd locked down within him. Enough so he hadn't taken a chance on seeing any of them that day. He'd skipped school, staying holed up in his apartment until he'd had to leave for work. The phone had rung twice--once when first period would have been over and once at the end of the school day. Both times, the caller had hung on until the twentieth ring, but Michael had purposely turned off his answering machine. He didn't need to hear a message to know who was calling anyway.

Maria. Michael's lips twisted in a scowl as the image of the pixie girl popped into his head. She had surprised him with her determination to stand up for him, to try and make things easier for him, when he knew she was dying to press him about what she'd seen in the visions.

He groaned. Why had he tried to show her things anyway, when he knew he couldn't control what she saw? Even Max didn't seem to be able to consistently control what visions he gave, so why did Michael expect to be able to do any better? He didn't know what Maria had gotten from the flashes, besides the voice she'd heard, but he suspected it was pretty grim. There wasn't much he could show her that wasn't.

The night was quiet, and he could hear his footsteps echoing down the deserted street. The moment he became aware of their ring, another sound began to resonate in his head, drowning out the sound of his feet. The voice was back. Not that it wasn't always there anyway, but at times he seemed able to push it back out of his mind into a dull roar in the back of his brain. Not now, though. It shouted in his ears, pulling him inward until he was hopelessly awash in the sound. In the word.

Killer.

Killer.

killer killer killer killer killer...

Michael's feet unwillingly slowed to a hesitant shuffle and then stopped. Staring at nothing, his brain resounded with the mind-numbing sound. Floundering around, looking for anything to latch onto to take away the word that hammered at him, Michael searched for one tiny little bit of light in the otherwise murky nightmare world he was lost in. And he found it.

A tiny sliver of memory, cutting through the sound and pain. Maria, telling him he wasn't a killer, that he shouldn't listen to anyone who told him he was.

With a start, he pulled away from the place in which his mind had been stuck. Blinking rapidly, he ran his fingers through his spiky hair and looked apprehensively around him.

Why had he been able to remember that? Not that he wasn't grateful that he had--usually it took someone else to bring him out of it, and if there was no one around, he could be sunk in a trance-like state for hours. In fact, he'd gotten stuck in one the night he'd first come back, when the voice had practically brought him to his knees in the middle of the street. Somehow he had made it back to his apartment, sinking in a daze to the floor, and he hadn't known who or where he was until a day and a half later. The far-off ringing of his phone had slowly brought him back to his senses, out of the dark, overwhelming nightmare where it had just been him and the voice. He'd pulled himself together only to realize that he'd lost a good thirty-six hours and that, barring any efforts from Alex, Maria had been unguarded all that time.

Grimacing, Michael hoped that the vision hadn't shown Maria just how weak and ineffectual he had been during that period. Of course, with his luck, that's probably just what she had seen...

Michael's roving eyes finally latched onto the thing that had enabled his escape from the voice this time. He must have seen it without knowing it, and his brain had processed the image into a weapon to free him. There, in the distance, pulled crookedly onto the side of the road, was a red Jetta. The DeLuca Jetta. Maria's Jetta.

With his heart pounding, Michael sprinted for the car. Was she in some sort of trouble? She must be, or why would her car be here this late at night? Nearing the automobile, he called her name, only to stop short as he caught sight of the person inside. Instead of the golden-crowned head he was expecting to see, he saw a fall of rich brown hair. Not Maria after all, but Maria's mother.

Her arms were on the steering wheel and her head was bowed down over them. She wasn't moving. Tapping on the window, Michael said, "Mrs. DeLuca?"

With a jerk, Amy's head shot up and she looked wildly around. "Who's there?" she cried out.

"Just me. Michael Guerin," he answered, and her face tightened for a moment before she relaxed with a sigh.

Unrolling the window, she tried to look calm. "Michael?"

"Yeah. Are you okay, Mrs. DeLuca?"

"Oh, I'm great. Unfortunately, my car is not," she said in a wry tone. "As you can see, it has decided to take a vacation."

Michael hesitated, taking in the tiredness in her eyes. "Can I...can I do anything to help?"

Her eyes raised doubtfully to his. "I don't suppose you're a whiz in auto shop, by any chance?"

Michael's lips pressed together in a thin line before he answered, "No, I'm not." That was an understatement. The last time he'd tried to fix the Jetta, he'd fried the engine. Max had to stop on the way back from Atherton's and fix it...Wait--Max. Max could probably fix this, the way he seemed to be able to fix everything else. Only trouble was, at this point Michael didn't feel he could ask him. Maria could, though. "But I have a friend who's pretty good with cars. Max Evans. You could have Maria ask him to take a look at it," he suggested. "Unless you want to call a tow truck."

Amy looked away for a moment before saying airily, "Unfortunately, that's not in the budget this month." Michael watched her, struck by her strength. She was carrying on as if totally unbowed by any problems whatsoever. This must be where Maria got her spirit.

He suddenly realized that she was watching him just as closely. Uncomfortably he shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. "Well, you could have Max look at it tomorrow, then," he finally managed. "If it's not running, it should be safe to leave it here. No one will be able to steal it."

Her eyebrows rose. "Nobody in their right mind would want to steal this car. But it doesn't matter. I'll stay with it."

"All night?" he asked. "There's really no point to that, is there?"

She frowned. "The point is that I have a huge box full of merchandise that I can't afford to lose. And while they might not be able to drive off in the car, they can break in and steal the box." Looking in the back seat, Michael did indeed see a large cardboard carton. "So I'll just stay. Someone will come along in the morning, I'm sure." She looked out the windshield as her hand unerringly reached for the handle and began to roll the window up.

Shit. He couldn't leave her here. Not Maria's mother. Putting a hand on the window, he stopped it from closing completely. "Mrs. DeLuca? I could...I could carry the box for you. Make sure you got home okay." He didn't meet her eyes, half afraid she'd sneer at the offer. "It's a long way, I know, but at least you'd get home. Or," he continued as a new idea struck him, "I could walk you to a phone and you could call a friend, if you'd feel safer."

Amy scrutinized him closely until he finally looked her in the eye. Seeming satisfied with what she read there, she stated, "I'd appreciate your help home. Thank you, Michael." He backed away so she could get gracefully out of the car and open the back door. He pulled the box cautiously out.

"Be careful with that--that's my daughter's and my livelihood you've got in your hands." Michael immediately took an even firmer grip on the carton, as if it were all that stood between the DeLuca women and starvation. Which wasn't quite the case.

Locking the Jetta up, Amy glanced over her shoulder at the tall boy who was holding the box as if it contained something very precious. She gave him a considering look, but didn't say anything as together they started down the sidewalk. After a few blocks, she commented, "I'm sorry the box is so heavy."

"It's okay."

Determined to make some conversation, Amy said, "How did you happen to be out here tonight, anyway?"

"I work at the Lift Off. I was on my way home," he said simply. She nodded.

Another block or two of silence, and she said in amusement, "You don't talk very much, do you?"

"No. Ma'am."

Ma'am? Her eyebrows rose. What kind of delinquent would use the word Ma'am, unprompted? There was more to him than met the eye. "Well, I can understand that. What kind of conversation can you have with someone's mother, anyway?" Oops. She'd made a bad move there. The boy didn't have a mother--it was probably a sore spot for him.

"I don't talk that much to anyone," Michael said quietly.

"No wonder my daughter likes you," Amy joked, trying to gloss over her faux pas. "You don't compete with her for air time." She looked over at him, but he didn't so much as blink to acknowledge her jest. "Well, that fell flat," she said. "But you have to admit, she can be a chatterbox."

He shrugged.

"Which you, as you said, are not," Amy continued, then shook her head. Why did she feel so determined to make conversation with this brooding boy? Perhaps because of Maria's tearful confession last night. She didn't feel pity for him, exactly. She still disliked him on principle, for his influence on her daughter. But Maria wasn't stupid, and teenage trauma aside, she obviously saw something in this boy that other people--including Amy--didn't. And Amy wanted to know what that something was. Whether to understand her daughter better or to protect her from it, she wasn't sure; all she knew was that she needed to know more. So she tried again.

"So you work at the Lift Off, Michael?"

He nodded.

"What else do you do? What interests you?" Besides her daughter. He shrugged. Well, this wasn't getting her anywhere. "You must be interested in something," she insisted. "Sports? Movies? Music?" Anything legal? "Come on, Michael. A conversation doesn't work if it's completely one-sided. Give me a hand here."

He was obviously uncomfortable. So much for conversation...

"Hockey. Action movies. Metallica."

"What?" she said, startled that he'd responded.

"The sports, movies and music that interest me," he explained patiently. "You asked."

"So I did." She smiled. "So your idea of a good time would be a movie about a hockey-playing heavy metal musician in a car chase, huh?"

"Wouldn't be too bad."

She let out a peal of laughter. "You're an odd duck, Michael Guerin." He didn't show it on his face, but for some reason she got the feeling that this amused him. "So what do you do when you're not watching kung fu hockey flicks?"

Michael racked his brain to come up with something to say. He could hardly say he spent his days preparing for an attack by enemy aliens, or protecting her daughter from an unknown stalker, could he? "I...uh...well, right now I'm building some puppets for the school musical."

Well, well. He was working on Maria's play. Funny, her daughter hadn't mentioned this. "So, you're artistic?"

"I guess," he answered in a low voice.

"I'll look forward to seeing your handiwork on stage." They walked for a few minutes in silence. Finally, Amy broached the subject that was on both their minds. "Look, Michael, it probably won't come as a surprise to you that you are not exactly my favorite person. I don't think you are the best influence on Maria. She has a lot going for her; she could really succeed at something, and I don't want that to be ruined by her association with...with..."

"A worthless piece of good-for-nothing jail fodder?" he put in dryly.

"Well that's not exactly what I was thinking, but that was the basic idea, yes." He nodded, accepting the description. She continued thoughtfully, "But I don't think that's an entirely clear view of the picture. So you know what? I have decided to keep an open mind about you."

He looked over at her, obviously surprised.

"Somehow I suspect there is more to you than you show the world, although I think you've shown some of it to my daughter." She pretended not to notice how tightly his fingers were gripping the carton. "So until you give me reason not to, I think I'm going to cut you some slack. I will warn you though," she said, her voice rising, "you hurt her again, even the tiniest little bit, and I will kick your ass from here to California. Got that?"

Michael nodded wordlessly.

"And here we are," she said cheerfully as she turned the corner to the DeLuca home. "You can just set that down by the door." She turned and looked at him. "Thank you for your help tonight, Michael. It was very nice of you." He flushed, and she smiled inwardly. So being nice didn't go with his tough-guy image, did it? "Do you want to come in for a minute? Have a soda or something before you head home? Maria may still be up."

In a flash, his face closed off. "No thanks, Mrs. DeLuca."

"Sure?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Well then, thank you again. Good night, Michael."

He stood, poised for flight, but said, "Mrs. DeLuca?"

"Yes?"

"I don't...I don't want her hurt either," he said in a rush, then stood, discomposed, unable to meet her eyes.

Amy smiled. "Well, then, we have something in common." His eyes raised to hers for one fleeting second; then, with a mumbled "Good night", he disappeared into the darkness. Amy watched him go, a thoughtful expression on her face, before heading inside. She and Maria had some things to discuss.

CHAPTER 33

Maria sat at their usual table, eyeing her lunch with little more interest than she had the day before. Her mind busy, she only half paid attention to the desultory conversation going on around her, chiming in with the occasional murmur of agreement when there was a pause. After one such assent, a snicker from Alex brought her attention back to the group. "What?" she asked, somewhat defensively.

"You haven't been listening to a word we've said, have you?" asked Liz, trying to hold back a smile.

"Sure I have. You were talking about...about..."

"Maria," Alex said, his eyes dancing, "you just agreed to perform the next Whits gig dressed in your Crashdown uniform."

"I did not!" she cried, aghast.

"Oh, yes you did, and I've got witnesses," he returned, gesturing to Max and Liz. He shook his head in mock reproof. "Maria, Maria, Maria...you've got to learn to pay more attention when your friends are talking."

She gave him a suspicious glare. "You set me up," she accused.

"Guilty. But I'm still going to hold you to it."

"But--"

"Ah-ah-ah. Witnesses, remember?"

Maria looked pleadingly at the two witnesses. "C'mon, guys, help me out here." Liz just smiled warmly at her, while Max shook his head.

"Sorry, Maria, you agreed to it, and now you're kind of stuck."

She glared around at the three of them for a moment before bursting into self-deprecating laughter. "Yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?"

A voice spoke from behind her. "Aren't you what?"

"Isabel," Alex greeted the newcomer with a smile.

"And look who I brought with me," the tall blonde said. Maria didn't have to turn around to know Michael was standing there, probably looking pretty uneasy. Apprehension fought with excitement in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure which won.

"Have a seat," offered Alex. Maria noticed the look that passed between brother and sister as Isabel sat down next to Max. Michael took the only other available seat, on the end next to Alex. She watched with bated breath as the spike-headed alien raised his chin defiantly at his designated leader. As far as she knew, the two hadn't spoken since Wednesday night, when tempers flew out of control. Maria hoped her talk with Max yesterday would help him to diffuse the situation, and that they weren't in for Alien Smackdown, Round Two. She wondered with trepidation if there was a fire extinguisher nearby. Just in case.

Looking back at his second-in-command, Max spoke. "Hey, Michael."

The response was concise, but not unfriendly. "Maxwell."

Huh? That was it? Where was the shouting? The fireworks? The explosions? Maria could hardly believe it. Those two, they were...they were just...well, guys.

She suddenly realized that five people were watching her sit there and grind her teeth. "What?" she asked no one in particular.

"Maybe we should ask you that," said Isabel teasingly, "before you need an orthodontist. What's gotten you so wound up?"

"It's not me," Maria protested. "It's your brother--and your other brother--who are in the process of driving me absolutely insane!" She turned to the aliens in question. "Last I knew, you were, like, practically at each other's throats. When did you get to be so buddy-buddy? Would you make up your minds?" she yelped. "I mean, how the heck are we supposed to know what to expect?"

"Maria, I--" Max began.

"This is not the way arguments work. You are not supposed to just pretend it didn't happen! You're supposed to talk it over and hash things out, not ignore them. But oh no, not you two. God forbid you should do things the normal way. Have you even spoken to each other since Wednesday night?"

"No, but--" Max tried again.

"Well, why not?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be in charge, Max, so why haven't you done something about it yet? Or didn't they cover arguments in Leadership 101?" She noticed a flash of amusement cross Michael's face before he hid it under his usual stony demeanor. "And you," she said, rounding on him, "You decide you can't speak to the rest of us, so you hide out and don't answer the phone, and then instead of talking things out with the people who care about you, you decide to spend quality time with MY MOTHER?"

Four pairs of very interested eyes joined hers in staring at a suddenly ill at ease Michael. "She told you?" he muttered.

"Of course she told me."

"Oh."

"What's going on?" asked Alex curiously.

Michael pressed his lips together and refused to answer.

"Oh, nothing much. Spaceboy here decided to play knight errant and rescue the damsel in distress--that would be my mother--when the Jetta broke down last night," explained Maria spiritedly.

"Michael. How chivalrous of you," drawled Isabel, unsuccessfully holding in a smile. He ignored her, but wasn't able to ignore Maria, who was thoroughly enjoying her tale.

"So there she is, stranded with a load of plastic and metal alien junk--excuse me, make that 'merchandise'--on the complete other side of town, when who should come along but Mr. 'Can't Get Involved'. Despite his unfriendly disposition, he not only proceeds to escort her all the way home, carrying said box of alien paraphernalia, but also..." she paused dramatically. The others leaned in, anticipating, and Maria's voice rang out importantly. "He also held an entire conversation with her."

Alex let out a low whistle as the others choked back laughter.

"What?" said Michael crossly. "It's not a big deal. You wouldn't be harping on it if it'd been Max."

"True," said Maria. "But it wasn't, it was you. And you were very sweet to help her."

"I am not sweet."

"Oh yes, you are," she teased. "Enough so that I don't even think my mother hates you any more."

"I am not sweet!" he ground out.

"Then you'd better stop behaving that way, sugar pie," she bantered, adding leadingly, "Too bad, though."

He didn't bite. Alex, and his insatiable curiosity, did. "Why?"

"Because the knight errant didn't claim his reward." Sliding off of the bench, she moved to Michael's side. "And since there's no way you're getting this from my mother, you'll have to settle for me." Placing her hand on his shoulder, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Michael," she said sincerely. He blinked.

"Well, well. Where do I get in line?" came a teasing voice from behind them.

"Oh, hi, Mark. Sorry, only very special people qualify," Maria said airily.

"I see. Well, Guerin, you're a lucky guy."

"Funny, that's what I keep telling him," laughed Maria, her eyes sparkling. "I'm not sure he quite believes me, though."

"Well, if he gives you any trouble on that account, little lady, you just come see me. I'll give him a good talking-to," Mark said in his best John Wayne imitation. He turned to look at Michael and resumed his normal voice. "So, Guerin, I've authorized myself to come see how the plants are coming along."

"They'll be ready when they're ready," said Michael abruptly. Standing, he looked over at Max. "Maria's right about one thing. We should talk, Maxwell." Giving a pointed look in Mark's direction, he added, "Later." Startled but glad, Max had just enough time to nod once before Michael stalked away from the table in the direction of the school building.

Mark watched him go. "Well, I guess you can't rush artistic genius," he said with a smile. "Tell him my offer still stands if he needs some help."

"Tell him yourself," Maria said with a sigh. "Somehow I don't think he's going to listen to me." Liz eyed Maria with sympathy as she sank back down on the bench next to Alex.

Ignoring her sudden descent into the blues, Mark smiled cheerily at her. "See you at rehearsal then, Maria."

"Yeah, sure," she responded absently.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Mark leaned over and whispered in her ear. "And I wouldn't worry too much about Guerin," he said. "If he doesn't want to listen to that golden voice, it's his loss."

Liz watched him walk away, speculating madly as to his motives. As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to her morose friend and demanded, "What was that all about?"

"What?"

"Mark. Was he actually flirting with you?

"What? Mark? Of course not," Maria denied.

"It sure looked like it to me," said Isabel. "And I suspect it looked like it to my 'other' brother, too."

"That's ridiculous. Mark's just friendly, that's all," objected Maria. "You're imagining things."

"Oh really?" said Isabel. "Hands up, those who thought he was being just a little too friendly." Three hands immediately shot up to join hers in the air.

"You're all delusional," Maria said stubbornly. Pushing her uneaten lunch back in her bag, she rose to leave.

"You're not going to eat?" questioned Liz.

"Not hungry." Maria plucked at the strap of her bookbag. "I'm going to the library to work on my term paper. Might as well get something worthwhile done."

"I'll walk that way with you," Isabel offered. "I've got some research to do, too." As the two headed back across the quad, she studied the shorter girl. "Don't worry too much. Michael will get over it."

"I'm not so sure he will," Maria answered in a gloomy voice.

"It was just one little bit of flirtation--" began Isabel.

"For the last time, Mark was not flirting with me, and I certainly wasn't flirting with him!" Maria cried in exasperation. "And that's not why Michael's upset with me, anyway."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure. The reason he's upset is that for once he let me in a little bit, and now he's all paranoid about it. Every time I make any progress with him, he shuts down again."

"You're important to him, and that makes him uncomfortable," commented Isabel.

"Yeah, well, so do chick flicks, wet sneakers and chocolate cake with no Tabasco sauce."

"Oh, come on, Maria. You're not nearly as bland as Tabasco-free chocolate," Isabel said, poker-faced.

"Gee, Isabel, that's helpful." Maria was silent for a minute, then added, "And that's only on top of all the other things he's going through. Believe me, being uncomfortable with me is the least of Michael's worries."

Max was heading across the parking lot when he noticed a familiar figure sitting on the hood of the Jeep. It was Michael, and he looked like he'd been there a while. He was leaning forward, knees bent, with his arms draped across his knees. Something about his posture reminded Max of a much younger Michael, both hesitant and belligerent at the same time.

Michael looked up at his approach. His expression was, as usual, shuttered, and his eyes gave off no hint of his mood. Sliding off the hood, he spoke first. "Max."

"How long have you been sitting out here?" asked Max in a friendly tone.

"Didn't feel like going to last period."

"You don't usually hide out in plain sight," Max commented. "You're lucky you didn't get caught." Michael shrugged, then looked off into the distance past Max, who relaxed. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt he actually knew what was going on in his tall friend's head. Maybe not the particulars, but the gist of it anyway. Michael had something to say, and was searching for words. "What can I do for you, Michael?" asked Max, very openly. Maybe his friend was finally ready to talk. He could hope, anyway.

The answer wasn't at all what he expected. "Did Maria talk to you about the Jetta?" Michael asked abruptly.

"No, what about it?"

Michael was silent for a moment, then spoke, not meeting Max's eyes. "I thought maybe you could look at it. Fix it. Like you did on the trip back from Marathon."

Caught by surprise, Max didn't answer. Michael shifted uncomfortably and went on, "I don't know what's wrong with it, but I don't think Mrs. DeLuca has the money to get it fixed. So I thought maybe you could look at it."

Max knew what he had just heard, but still could hardly believe it. Michael Guerin, paranoiac extraordinaire, had just asked him to use his powers. In public. And for a human, no less. The tense set of his friend's jaw reminded Max that he'd better answer, and fast. "Sure, I'll take a look." He caught the almost imperceptible relaxation of Michael's shoulders, and smiled inwardly. Maybe now was a good time to try and mend some fences with his prickly friend. "Why don't you come, too?" he suggested. "You can show me where the Jetta is--and keep an eye out to make sure no one sees me using my powers."

Michael nodded.

"Well, if we're both out there, we'd better make sure Isabel's got Maria covered," Max thought aloud.

"She was going to sit in the back and watch Maria's rehearsal," said Michael.

"Good. We should probably let her know where we'll be, and she can tell Maria and Alex. Do you want--"

The answer came rushing out before Max had time to finish the question. "No."

"Okay," responded Max. "I'll go talk to her. I'll be back in a few minutes."

When he returned, mission accomplished, Michael was nowhere to be seen. Tossing his books in the back of the Jeep in mild exasperation, Max settled in for what might turn out to be a long wait. He couldn't even go take a look at the Jetta by himself; Michael hadn't told him where it was.

It wasn't very long before his friend reappeared and swung himself into the passenger seat. Max gave him a questioning look, but Michael kept his mouth shut, other than to give a few terse directions to the Jetta's location. Deciding not to press him, Max silently followed Michael's directions across town to the broken-down automobile.

As they pulled up behind it, Michael's face grew grim. The car looked even more decrepit than it had the night before, thanks to the now slashed tires, which had it listing drunkenly to one side.

Climbing out of the Jeep, Max surveyed the wounded Jetta. "I thought you said it broke down," he commented mildly.

"It did. This is new," Michael stated, audibly angry.

"Well, keep an eye out," Max instructed, leaning down to begin the repairs to the worn tires. With a grunt, Michael began to observe their surroundings, looking for anyone--or anything--suspicious.

Gathering her script and pencil and pushing them into her bookbag, Maria let out a tired sigh. It had been another productive but tiring rehearsal. They'd ended up running the 'Somewhere That's Green' scene between her and the doo-wop girls a number of times at the end of the rehearsal; for once, Mark and Dennis got to leave early while Ms. Bedinger concentrated on the female cast members.

All during rehearsal, Maria had been aware of Isabel sitting quietly at the back of the auditorium. This time Maria hadn't felt annoyed by having a baby-sitter; somehow the alien's presence was almost as comforting as Alex's.

Bookbag in hand, she waved to the bass player, then walked up the aisle to the back of the auditorium where Isabel was waiting. As Maria neared, the alien rose gracefully to her feet.

"Hi, Isabel," said Maria, "So you're on duty, huh? What?" she added with a grin, "Did you draw the short straw or something?"

Isabel smiled back at her. "Well, it wasn't exactly like that. Max and Michael went to take a look at the Jetta."

Maria raised her eyebrows. "My mom said something about asking Max if he could fix it--somehow she's gotten the idea that he's an auto mechanic genius or something--but I forgot to mention it to him. I guess Michael asked him about it."

Isabel shook her head ruefully. "More likely Max thought it up on his own."

Smiling, Maria said, "Well, either way, it's nice of him. I hope he's able to fix it, or I may have to borrow Alex's bicycle to get around."

Isabel laughed. "Since his bike is a one-seater and my brothers took the Jeep, I guess we're stuck with our feet. Let's hit the road."

"What?" Maria teased. "You mean Czechoslovakians can't fly?" Isabel pretended to glare at her, and Maria continued, "I just need to stop by my locker and get my books first. I've got a lot of homework this weekend."

Isabel nodded and followed Maria into the hallway. "So where are we headed, anyway? Your house, or do you have to work tonight?"

"Nope," Maria answered blissfully. "I've got the whole evening off. I do have to cover a double shift tomorrow, though, so I hope you're geared up for something fattening. You may as well eat while you watch."

"I think I'll let Max cover the mealtimes," Isabel planned. By this time, they had reached the locker, and Maria chuckled as she dialed the combination. She choked off, mid-laugh, as she swung the locker door open. A sick feeling rose in her stomach. There, on top of her math text, was a folded-up piece of paper. Her stalker had struck again.

Isabel followed Maria's suddenly tense gaze to the paper, then turned to look at her friend, who stood, frozen. Finally the alien began, "Do you want me to--"

"No," Maria responded, cutting her off. "I just needed a minute, that's all." With unsteady hands, she reached for the paper and unfolded it, wondering what the threat would be this time. At least it might give them a clue as to the author. If it didn't scare her out of her wits first.

With the paper flat in her hands, she forced herself to look down and read it. A moment later, her face relaxed and she began to breathe again. This wasn't another threat. This was something else altogether. Something very, very good.

"It's not another note," she told Isabel. "I mean, it is, but it's from Michael. It's not a threat."

Isabel let out a deep breath. "Wow. For a moment there, I thought..." Her voice trailed off.

"I know," said the shorter girl. She let out a disbelieving snort. "What is up with Michael, anyway? I mean, I can't believe that he would leave a note in my locker, considering everything that's happened. Didn't he know I'd think it was another threat? Does he want me to have a heart attack or something?"

Isabel rolled her eyes in a way that was peculiarly her own. "Sometimes I think that Michael doesn't think." She waited for a moment; when Maria didn't respond, just reading the note again, Isabel added, "So are you going to read me your little love letter?"

Maria snorted. "It's not a love letter. Can you even imagine Michael writing one?"

"Well, what did he say then?" the taller girl pressed.

A warm smile lit Maria's face. "It's not what he said, it's what he wants to say. I mean, his note says he wants to talk." She gave a little skip of anticipation. "He wants me to meet him in the park at 9:00."

Isabel raised on eyebrow in speculation. "He does?"

"That's what the note says," beamed Maria. Excitement began to well up within her, making her as suddenly jittery as if she'd just chugged an entire pot of coffee. "Let's stop in at the Crashdown, okay? I want to tell Liz."

With an amused look on her face, Isabel watched as Maria's feet danced their way happily down the hall.

CHAPTER 34

Driving the Jetta, Michael headed across town, his mind only half-aware of where he was going. The other half was on Max, who'd finally gotten the car running again, its slashed tires restored.

The spike-headed alien was very aware that he hadn't been much help that afternoon. Twice his focus had been pulled away from his surroundings by--He gritted his teeth. No, he wasn't going to think about the voice or its message right now. Thinking about it might lead to losing himself in it again; not a good idea while driving. And already twice that afternoon he'd zoned, both times pulling himself together at the sound of Max's voice quietly saying his name. Max hadn't pressed him to talk, even though Michael could tell he had wanted to.

Then again, maybe his friend wasn't ready to risk becoming a flaming shish kebab, and had decided not to take any chances with Michael's admittedly unreliable powers. Instead, he'd concentrated on repairing the Jetta.

When Max was done, Michael--somewhat reluctantly--drove it back to the DeLuca house. Following in the Jeep, Max gave a light tap on the horn before heading home. Leaving the car in the driveway, Michael knocked tentatively on the front door, hoping Maria would answer and not Mrs. DeLuca. He didn't want to have to explain just how he'd been able to drive the car without the keys. Somehow he felt a strong reluctance to give the only explanation he could think of, that he'd hot-wired it. And he could hardly tell the woman that his friend had used his alien superpowers to start it, could he?

On the other hand, he didn't really want to see Maria either, still mentally chastising himself for connecting with her and showing her...well, whatever he'd shown her. His insane need to know exactly what she'd seen battled with an equally strong desire to never have to deal with the subject.

And so he felt a strong sense of relief when neither of the DeLucas came to the door, and quickly moved away from the house, leaving the repaired Jetta sitting peacefully in the driveway. Heading on foot through the growing darkness back towards his apartment, he tried not to dwell on much of anything.

Almost unconsciously, his feet turned and took him past the Crashdown. Maybe Maria was at work, since she hadn't been home. He hesitated. Max had probably found her and told her he'd been able to get the car fixed; he might even have taken over guard duty from Isabel. Certainly Michael wasn't needed.

His eyes flickered. There was something he could do, though. He could try and get a vision of whoever had been threatening Maria. Sure, the sketch hadn't been any help, but maybe one of the notes would work. Only problem was, he'd have to talk to her to get them. Bracing for a confrontation, he found himself pushing the restaurant door open and stepping inside.

No sign of Maria, but his eyes immediately spotted Liz. Heading over to the counter where she was refilling sugars, he said diffidently, "Hey."

Liz's eyes flew towards him, startled, but she smiled. "Hi, Michael." A pause, and then she continued, "I'm a little surprised to see you. Aren't you on your way to meet Maria?"

Michael's eyes narrowed. Was he that obvious? "What?"

"To meet Maria, like you said in your note," she explained.

"What?" he repeated, a furrow appearing between his eyes. "I didn't leave her a note."

Liz blanched, and immediately crossed to the phone where she dialed Isabel's cell phone number. When the blonde picked up, Liz burst out, "Isabel? Are you and Maria at the park yet?" A dismayed look crossed her face as she listened to the response. Michael watched her intently, noting her growing look of concern. Finally she told Isabel, "I'm sure it's all right. Michael's here; we'll get everything straightened out." Another moment, and she continued, "Yeah, we'll let you know," before hanging abruptly up.

Michael, who had barely suppressed the urge to grab the phone from her, barked, "What's going on?"

Liz bit her lip before replying, "Maria found a note in her locker this afternoon. She thought it was from you." He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him. "It said to meet you at 9:00 in the park, by the swings. Isabel was going to go with her, but Maria told her she'd be safe with you, that she didn't need to be handed off like a package. And then she just took off--"

Michael cut in tersely. "What time is it?" he demanded.

Looking at her watch, Liz responded shakily, "8:57. Michael, I--"

With a curse, he was out the door, running flat out towards the park.

Eight and a half interminable minutes later, he sped into the park, looking wildly around for Maria. Spotting a small figure sitting on one of the swings, he raced over, all the while searching the darkness for a threat of some kind.

"You're late, Spaceboy," Maria said cheerfully. "You're lucky I--"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he burst out.

"What?" she answered, taken aback by his brusqueness. "Waiting for you, as a matter of fact," she added pointedly.

"You're not supposed to be," he shot back, his fists clenched.

"What? Of course I am. You said to meet you here," Maria responded in confusion.

"No, I didn't," he corrected coldly. "Come on, I'm getting you out of here."

Maria shook her head in protest. "Not until you explain what's going on."

His mouth tight, he answered, "I didn't leave you a note. Someone else did, to lure you here. So unless you want to sit around and wait for whoever or whatever did, I suggest you get your butt out of that swing and get the hell out of here."

Open mouthed in shock--and disappointment--Maria just stared at him. He rolled his eyes, then reached out and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her off the swing.

She recovered herself enough to blurt, "What? What are you doing?"

Still holding her arm, he looked her directly in the eye before saying sternly, "Are you coming, or am I gonna have to carry you?"

She studied his stormy expression for a moment before her lips began to twitch. "Who knew you could be both a Czechoslovakian and a Neanderthal?" she laughed. His mouth tightened, and she hurried on, "No, okay, okay. I'm coming, all right? I'm coming."

He nodded, dropping her arm, then turned to scan the park around them. Once satisfied that no one was lurking in wait, he muttered, "Come on, then," and started back across the grass. Maria scooted to his side and matched her stride to his longer one as best she could.

This was not exactly how she'd pictured her evening. Sure, she was with Michael, but somehow she'd pictured them sitting on the swings and talking, not him yelling at her and ordering her around. She didn't know why she'd gotten such an unlikely picture stuck in her head, anyway; it certainly wasn't from past experience.

They quickly reached the edge of the park and Michael hesitated. "Where do you want to go?" he asked. "Home? Liz's?"

Maria considered for a moment. The idea that someone other than Michael had purposely lured her to the park was beginning to set in, and she was developing a strong case of the willies about it. She didn't want to go home. After she'd found what she thought was Michael's note, she'd made happy arrangements to spend the night at Liz's, so they could indulge in some sorely-missed ice cream and girl talk. So her mother wasn't expecting her at home--and she didn't want to deal with the explanations her showing up would necessitate.

If she went to Liz's, it would entail inviting Isabel, or else Michael would end up spending another sleepless night lurking around in the darkness. And while she was enjoying her blossoming friendship with the blonde alien, she really craved some one-on-one time with her best friend. But the only way to get that, it seemed, would be at Michael's expense. Unless Max wanted to stay up all night...

Michael interrupted her thoughts. "So where?" he repeated impatiently, his eyes constantly scanning the area around them.

Maria suddenly realized just where she wanted to go. "Come on," she said decisively, and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of the Crashdown. Michael followed, relaxing just a bit now that they were once more on the move.

His uneasiness returned in full measure, however, as Maria passed the alley leading to the back door of the Parkers' restaurant and kept moving forward without slowing. Where the hell was she going? There was nothing in this direction except--

He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. She turned a pleading glance up to him, but his face was stony. "Just where are you going?" he asked in a gravely voice, already knowing the answer.

Maria didn't try to fool him. "To your place," she answered honestly.

His jaw clenched. "That's not such a good idea."

"Please?" she begged. "I don't know why, but I feel safe there."

Was she crazy? She could be hurt by him just as easily as by anyone else. If not more so. He searched for a good excuse. "Your mother--"

"Thinks I'm spending the night at Liz's," she finished for him.

"Then you should be there," he stated firmly.

"And if I spend the night at Liz's, what are you going to do?" she demanded. His eyes shifted away from hers. "Look, Michael, if you lurk outside the Crashdown all night, you're not going to get any rest, and then I won't either, because I'll be up worrying about you. So if we're going to worry about each other, why not do it together? We could both use some sleep."

He didn't budge.

"Come on, Michael," she begged. "I promise I won't hound you to talk to me or anything, if that's what's bothering you. I won't even make a sound." He looked at her skeptically. "Well, I'll try, anyway," she amended. "Please, Michael?" Green eyes looked unflinchingly into brown ones. His flicked away first.

"If your mother finds out, it won't be a newspaper she comes after me with this time," he said grudgingly.

"Well then, we won't tell her," she answered, a sparkle entering her eyes. Starting once more down the sidewalk, she turned back to him. "Coming, Spaceboy?"

With a sigh, he followed her.

CHAPTER 35

Shaking, Maria wrapped her arms around herself and waited for Michael to unlock his apartment door. Reaction was finally setting in, and she shivered as she thought about the danger she could have been in. Why had she been so quick to head out into the night by herself? She didn't want to live her life in fear, but common sense should have kicked in before she got three steps out of the house. Anything could have happened to her. She grimaced--Michael's paranoia was beginning to rub off.

Shutting the door behind them, Michael pointed her towards the couch and she sank down onto it. Without looking at her, he pulled a faded blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it to her. She wrapped it around herself, snuggled into it and tried to stop shaking. She watched as Michael tossed his jacket on the kitchen counter and ran a hand through his hair before heading towards his phone. He looked particularly tense.

Avoiding her eyes, he dialed. It was picked up halfway through the first ring. "Maria?" Liz said anxiously.

"She's fine."

"Thank God," she breathed in relief. Michael could hear voices in the background, and then Liz saying, "Michael found her. He says she's fine." Isabel said something unintelligible, just barely loud enough to hear her frustration and not the words, and then Liz was back speaking with him. "So where are you?"

He gripped the phone tightly before replying, "My place."

"Well, are you bringing her back here, or do you want us to come pick her up?"

"No."

There was a moment of silence on the other end before Liz said, "Michael?"

He shot a quick glance at Maria, then turned away from her. "If you can get her out of here, she's all yours," he said into the phone. "But I don't think she's gonna--"

The receiver was taken out of his hand. He turned to see Maria standing there, still enveloped in the blanket. "Liz?" she said. "I'm fine, okay?" A moment of silence as she listened to her friend. "No, I wanted to come here. It feels safe, you know?" She listened again. "No, you don't need to come. Believe me, I'm perfectly all right. Our Czechoslovakian knight errant was back on the job, wasn't he?" Evidently Liz was still not satisfied, because Maria continued, "Fine, come over if you want. Bring the whole gang. Bring the whole town if you want to. But if you're coming over just to yell at me for being stupid, I think you'll have to get in line," she finished with a sigh, studying Michael's taut expression. "Okay, see you in a bit."

She replaced the receiver and looked up at Michael for a moment before crossing back to the couch and plopping down. "They're coming over," she said unnecessarily, since he'd been standing right there the whole conversation. Wordlessly, Michael crossed over to the counter and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest. He didn't speak.

Maria watched him. He was obviously struggling to keep a rein on his anger, and she wished he'd just go ahead and say whatever it was he had to say and get it over with. Kind of like ripping a Band-Aid off really quick. But she wasn't going to prod him into it--after all, she had promised she wouldn't make a sound, hadn't she? And she was going to do her darndest to keep that promise. At least until the others got there. That is, unless he spoke first.

But of course, he didn't, so she just sat there wrapped in the blanket, looking at him. Well, there were worse things. After all, she could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere...

A frown appeared on her expressive face, causing a matching one on Michael's. "What?" he said roughly.

Maria's only answer was a half-hearted shrug. Michael immediately knew what she was doing. "You know your little vow of silence isn't going to last," he told her. "So you might as well talk."

She looked at him indignantly and kept her mouth shut.

"You only promised you wouldn't talk so you wouldn't bother me, and I'd let you come here, remember? Well, surprise! You're not talking, and you're bothering me anyway. You got what you wanted--you're here, aren't you? So say something already!"

"And just what do you expect me to say?" she asked icily.

"How about an explanation of why the hell you were out there in the first place?" he shouted in exasperation.

"Well, obviously because I thought you wanted me to meet you there!" she shouted back. "I actually thought you wanted to talk! Stupid, huh?" She gave a bitter little laugh and clutched the blanket even tighter, as if it were a security blanket. Or her flannel sheep pajamas.

"For god's sake, I've been busting my ass trying to keep you out of trouble! Why the hell would I want you to put yourself in danger by waiting for me in a deserted park?"

She tried to defend herself. "Well, the note--"

His voice was even louder as he cut her off. "And that's another thing. How could you think I'd leave you a note in your locker like that? I mean, I know I'm not all Mr. Sensitive Wuss like Max or Alex--hell, Kyle Valenti probably ranks higher on that scale than I do--but for christ's sake, even I wouldn't be stupid enough to do that to you!"

"I know that, Michael, I do. I just..." Her voice trailed off and he couldn't make out what she mumbled.

"You just what?" he snapped.

She raised miserable eyes to his. "I wanted it to have been from you," she admitted softly. "I really wanted it."

He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, his anger deflated by her honesty. He understood what she meant. "I know," he told her. "But I can't...I'm not...Hell, I suck at this," he said, half to himself. Rubbing a hand across his face, he began to pace across the tiny room. His voice was hesitant, as if searching for words. "I'm not good at this stuff. Letting people in, I mean. There's too much I don't want anyone to see. And you--" He looked at her, then away, before continuing. "You've already seen a lot. Maybe too much. So I...push you away. I push everyone away. And..." He stopped pacing and stared down at his hands. "And I don't know if that will ever change."

Maria bit down on her lip. Whether or not he realized it, this was about as open and honest as she'd ever seen him. She spoke, not to reassure him or let him off the hook, but from the heart. "I know you're an intensely private person, Michael. You've had to be. And I don't mean to push you to do things you're not comfortable with, really I don't. I'm not asking you to tell me everything. You don't even have to tell me anything. Just...just don't close off completely, okay?"

He was still focused down on his hands. For a moment she thought he'd gone off into another trance-like state. Then he spoke, eyes downcast. His voice was harsh and regretful at the same time. "I can't promise that. I can't promise anything."

"I don't need a promise, Michael. Just think about it, that's all. And if you feel like I'm putting too much pressure on you, don't pull away from me, okay? Just tell me, and I'll stop." Understanding how acutely uncomfortable he was, she went on in a lighter tone. "Like now, for instance. That's enough serious talk, don't you think? So..." She looked around the room for inspiration. "Seen any good hockey games lately?"

He lifted his head and stared at her, disarmed by her sudden change of mood. "You're kidding me. You are actually trying to start a conversation about hockey?" Collapsing onto the far end of the couch, he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You're seriously warped, you know that. I don't know if it's 'cause you're human, or what, but I just don't get you."

A twinkle began to shine in Maria's eyes. "You don't?" she asked innocently.

He rolled his head over to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Nope."

"You're right. You don't get me," she drawled. Ha! If only Liz were here to see her. Now this was flirting. She smiled saucily and added, "Well, not unless you're very, very good."

For a split second she saw pain in his eyes and then he looked back up at the ceiling. With a sharp pang, Maria remembered. She could hear Michael clearly in her head, the day he'd killed Pierce, as he'd told Max, 'You're good and I'm bad.' Shit. Oh, shit shit shit. In one movement she was on her knees next to him on the couch. She placed one hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Michael? I didn't mean it like that." He didn't look at her. "I was just trying to...be funny, I guess, and I didn't think. I am so sorry."

"No problem," he said in a low voice, not looking at her.

"It is a problem. A big problem. And the biggest problem of all is my big fat mouth. I am really, really sorry."

He shrugged it off, but she was still angry with herself. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Michael," she began.

He turned his head towards her. "Will you shut up already?"

"But I--" His mouth descending on hers cut her off short. A split second of shock and then she returned his kiss, reveling in the sorely-missed feeling of his lips on hers. Her hands crept up to cradle his shoulders and he put his arms around her and began to pull her closer...

...only to spring backwards from her, half falling off the couch at the sound of a knock on the door and a rattle of the door handle. By the time the door was open, he was standing on the other side of the room, trying to look casual and failing miserably. At least from Maria's perspective. The four people who entered didn't seem to notice anything.

"'Ria!" cried Liz, rushing to her side. She put her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly in relief.

"It's okay, Lizzy. I mean, I'm okay," babbled Maria, unsure of whether she was more shaken from the kiss or from its being so abruptly broken off. "No harm done."

"No thanks to you," put in Isabel fiercely. "I shouldn't have let you go on your own in the first place."

What? Maria bristled and stood. "You don't let me do anything, Isabel. I do what I want to do, and I'll take responsibility for it." Her chin rose defiantly. "I'm sorry for worrying you all. It was my mistake, and I apologize. But frankly, I think I've been yelled at enough already, thank you very much."

Four pairs of eyes shot over to Michael, who stood uneasily in the corner. "You yelled at her, huh?" asked Alex, repressing a grin.

That wasn't all he'd done. Michael's jaw clenched, and he managed a gruff "Yeah."

"Way to go, man." Alex let his grin out, ignoring Maria's vexed look. "Nice to have you back."

Michael blinked a few times, not quite sure of how to respond.

Max focused on the sulky blonde. "No yelling," he promised, "since Michael's evidently taken care of that already. But can we at least talk about it?"

Maria nodded contritely. "Yeah." She sat back down on the couch. Liz settled beside her, holding her hand, and the others took places nearby. Except for Michael, who remained standing stubbornly in place.

"Liz said you got another note," Max prompted.

"Yeah, I did." Maria reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Max.

Isabel leaned over to read it with him. "This isn't even Michael's handwriting," she pointed out. "It's way too neat."

Maria flushed. "Well, how should I know that? We're not pen pals. I mean, I've gotten exactly one note from him, with the napkin holder he made. And that was printed pretty neatly."

"What exactly does it say?" Alex asked. "I'm out of the loop on this one, remember?"

Isabel read the note aloud.

We need to talk. Meet me at the
swings in the park at 9:00.
--M

She burst into laughter. "Yes, I suppose it's abrupt enough to sound like Michael, but really, Maria. M? Give me a break."

"I think you're missing the point here," said Liz. "Someone wanted to get Maria into the park for some reason, and knew enough to use Michael to do it. That's scary."

"But there wasn't anyone there," objected Maria. "I didn't see anyone, did you, Michael?"

He shook his head. "Didn't see anything, didn't feel anything."

"So what if the point wasn't to get you there, but to get you away from someplace else?" said Alex slowly.

"Like where? I wasn't working, and until I got the note this afternoon I wasn't supposed to spend the night at Liz's. I was just going to be home." Maria turned white. "My mother," she blurted. "What if--?" She scrambled towards Michael's phone and dialed her own number with shaking fingers. "Come on, pick up, pick up," she muttered, gripping the receiver tightly.

"Mom?" she said, her voice cracking in relief. "Yeah, yeah, it's me. Ummm, no I'm still spending the night at Liz's," she said, avoiding looking either Liz or Michael in the eye. "I just...I was just calling to tell you..." she looked around, searching her mind for a reasonable excuse.

A wave from Isabel brought her attention to the taller girl, who mouthed the words "The Jetta" at her. Maria shook her head and mouthed "What?" back, and Isabel repeated the phrase, along with a few car-driving gestures thrown in. A look of comprehension appeared on Maria's face. "I was calling to tell you about the Jetta," Maria said into the phone. She listened for a moment and then repeated her mother's question. "Yeah, I know it's in the driveway, so what did I want to tell you about it?"

Isabel gestured again--a steering wheel and then a big thumbs-up, Alex-style. "It's working?" blurted Maria, startled. "I mean, yeah, Mom, it's working. My friend Max was able to fix it." She listened for a minute, and then laughed. "Okay, I'll tell him when I see him. See you tomorrow, Mom."

Plunking the receiver down, she turned to Max. "Congratulations! For fixing the Jetta, you are the proud recipient of an Amy DeLuca homemade pie, your choice of flavors. She thinks you're great. Thanks, Max."

"You're welcome," he answered. "I'm glad I could help. But half of it goes to Michael--he helped me with it. Plus it was his idea in the first place."

Maria's eyes brightened at this piece of information. "Actually, there's no need to share," she said, then turned to Michael. "My mom said there'd be one waiting for Mr. Chivalry here, too." For the first time since he'd kissed her, he met her eyes squarely. She smiled at him, then moved back to the couch. "So," she said, pulling the subject back to the note. "Nothing's wrong at home, and there wasn't any trap waiting in the park. So why send me the note in the first place?"

Everyone mulled it over, but no one came to a good answer.

"Maybe someone just wanted you to get some fresh air," joked Alex finally. "You know, thought you'd been stuck indoors too long. Or maybe they just have a swing fetish."

"Fantastic," snorted Maria. "Note to self: avoid parks, playgrounds, and trees with tire swings." She looked around. "Well, whatever their plan was, I'm thinking it didn't work, right? Everything seems okay."

"We have no way of knowing what the note was trying to accomplish; it's not giving us any clues," Liz pointed out. "Unless one of you wants to try and get a vision from it," she said to the three aliens.

"It's worth a try. But Michael's the best at it," said Max supportively. "How about it, Michael?"

Maria turned to look at the spiky-haired alien, inwardly pleased that he was still watching her. Or wait--no, he wasn't. His eyes were fixated on something just past her, and he wasn't moving, just breathing shallowly. "He's gone again," she reported. "Michael?"

He didn't respond, and she scrambled off the couch and over to him. She said his name again, reaching out to touch his cheek gently, so as not to startle him. It took a moment, but eventually he blinked and focused on her. His eyes were haunted.

"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay?" She knew what he would say, that he was fine.

He didn't.

Moving to the kitchenette, he turned on the cold water and splashed his face before pulling up the hem of his shirt and using it to dry off. Then, bracing his hands on the counter, he leaned forward for a moment, trying to collect himself before he had to face them all.

Finally he turned, his arms folded across his chest and his face closed off.

"Michael," Max began. "I don't want to push you about this. I mean, I never know where the dividing line is with you anymore. But that's the third time today you've...zoned out like that. What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Michael looked around at the others. Three faces, like Max's, showed concern and worry. The fourth showed only support and determination. He tore his eyes away from Maria's and tried not to feel like he was an insect pinned up for study. Maybe this would be easier if he didn't actually look at them. "Yeah. Something's wrong," he managed, only to have his throat close off and block any other words.

"What? Are you sick? Is it like before?" Isabel burst out, moving to his side. "Please let us help you, Michael," she begged. He closed his eyes. Isabel shouldn't have to sound like that. She was strong and proud; she shouldn't have to sound so upset. He swallowed.

"Not like before," he said hoarsely. "It...it just happens. Ever since I came back." He lifted his eyes. Maria nodded at him. He went on, a little less hesitantly, "I lose track of what's going on or where I am. And when I come out of it, time has passed without my knowing it."

"How much time?" asked Liz.

"Depends. A few minutes maybe. Longer sometimes. And once..." Michael swallowed again. "The first time it happened, it was a day and a half."

Alex put two and two together. "That was why you didn't watch Maria, and why you weren't in school on Monday," he stated.

"Yeah."

"I knew there had to be a good reason. You wouldn't just give up, not when you were that determined about something," the teen said in satisfaction.

"Do you think it's physical?" Liz asked. "Maybe it's a chemical imbalance or something."

Isabel leapt on this. "If it's an imbalance, we need to use the balancing stones again. They helped before."

"Michael, would you let me scan you?" asked Max. "Maybe I can tell something from that."

Michael looked Max in the eye, obviously hating this idea. What he saw there evidently reassured him somewhat; he assented, though somewhat unwillingly. As Max crossed to him, he heard Michael mutter, "But you're not going to find anything in there." Max wasn't sure if he was supposed to overhear, so didn't respond.

Standing in front of his reluctant friend, Max put his hands out and made the connection. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense what was wrong. The others remained silent. A few minutes later, Max opened his eyes.

"Well, Dr. Evans, what's the diagnosis?" quipped Alex.

Max looked at Michael. "I don't think anything's physically wrong that can't be blamed on not getting enough sleep," he told him.

Michael's eyes narrowed. "But..." he prompted.

"But I felt something else. Isabel, when you healed Michael's arm you said that he felt 'shadowed'. I felt it too."

"I thought we decided that was the other Michael," Liz mused. "No, wait," she corrected herself. "That was because we didn't know Michael was himself again. But he was by that point."

Maria watched Michael in concern. This was a lot for him. Maybe it was time to do what she'd promised and back off a little, taking the others with her. "I think this discussion can wait until later, don't you? I mean, he seems okay. And it's been a long day. I for one am very tired."

Isabel looked at her in shock. "How can you say that he seems okay? We don't know what's going on, why this keeps happening. God, Michael didn't give up on helping you just because he was tired. I can't believe you would. So much for caring about someone, huh?"

Maria bit her lip, but refused to defend herself or explain her real motives. She just shrugged, accepting the rebuke.

"No," said Michael abruptly. "She doesn't really think that. She's just trying to make this easier on me." The others turned to him. "I knew you wouldn't find anything wrong, Max. Because the problem isn't physical. It's something else altogether."