“Dammit, dammit, dammit.” I stomped around the bedroom I shared with Maria, scooping up pieces of clothing, shoes, accessories and make-up that we had managed to accumulate in just one day in Vegas. Dropping them on the bed next to the duffle bag that Isabel had so thoughtfully provided, I balanced on one foot as I bent down to unbuckle the sandals that “perfectly matched my dress.” Isabel again. I was starting to believe that she’d been either a drill sergeant or a party planner in her last life because no detail seemed to escape her notice. She was all lists and control and…

God I wish I had control right now, instead of feeling like I was caught in some bizarre alien spiral. Deep breaths Liz, deep breaths. I ripped the other sandal from my foot, and threw the pair into the bag. Fuck breathing, it required brain power that I was obviously not willing to part with right now. How could Max say that too me? ‘I forgive you,’ what was that? I reached behind me to undo the back of my dress. How could he say something like that? How could he not see?

“Son of a…” I growled, the little hook thought nothing of stabbing me in the finger, but it refused to release. Tears welled up in my eyes again. Dammit, I didn’t need this tonight. I was supposed to have a good time, Michael and I were supposed to talk, things were supposed to be explained. Now, it felt like I even my clothing was against me.

I stopped my ineffectual attempts and scrubbed angrily at my lashes. No, I would not cry. I was not a wimp. This was nothing… I ran my hands up my face and back through my hair, fingers catching in the barrettes and hair spray. It’s not like I had to worry about the end of the world or anything.

“Liz, I…” The sound of a voice in the doorway interrupted my bitter sigh, and I turned to find Michael leaning against the door jam and staring somewhere over my left shoulder.

“Listen I just wanted to say that this,” he waved a hand to encompass the entirety of the craziness that seemed to be our hotel room, “this doesn’t affect the fact that we still have to…you know…”

He trailed off as his eyes met mine, frowning. “Hey are you okay? We really will get to talk. Max didn’t do something else did he?”

His worried expression was so out of place that any other time I would have laughed, but as it was I couldn’t stop the pitiful words that left my mouth, “I can’t get my dress open.”

Suddenly he looked at me like I was the alien. “Uh, you just untie the straps around your neck Liz.”

“No, it’s more complicated than that.” I turned around to show the back of my dress. “I can’t get the hook undone.”

“Oh, okay…um…that makes sense.” I watched him over my shoulder as he shifted uncomfortably away from the door frame. Suave Daddy Love was such an act. “I guess I can help you with that.”

To hide the smile that was trying to curve my lips, I turned my face forward to stare at the wall. I don’t know if I was surprised at the speed he got to me or what, but I jerked a little when his fingers brushed against my skin as he grasped the back of my dress. Immediately they disappeared again. “Sor—um shit, did I poke you?”

I cleared my throat, “No, just shocked me a little that’s all.”

His hands returned, the knuckles brushing back and forth on either side of my spine as he fumbled with the tiny hook that was apparently teenage boy proof. For no reason I could think of, my back began to arch a little, and I had tense my muscles to remain standing perfectly still. Behind me, I heard him curse softly under his breath, “Fucking A.”

I twisted my head around as far as I could to try to see what the hold up was. “Michael you’re pulling, you need to pinch and pull.”

The frustrated gust of hot air he blew out brushed against my cheek. “You know Liz, I might have missed Kindergarten, but I learned the basics. It’s just so damn small.”

He tried again to no avail.

“Shit, I think my fingers are too big, or something,” he growled. “Maybe you should get Maria or Isabel to help you.”

“The great Antarian General defeated by a piece of clothing,” I mourned jokingly. His eyes narrowed as they met my own.

“I can do this,” he told me, pulling tighter on the dress. The movement caught me off balance, and I tipped back into the heat of his fists gripping the cloth.

“Hey watch it,” I began as he started to mock, “Oh, real graceful…”

We both trailed off, staring at one another. Against me I could feel his hands flex restlessly.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Maria’s pert voice broke whatever had just taken place, and Michael quickly backed away from me.

“Liz, can’t get the hook on the back of her dress open, and I’m next to useless,” he told his ex as he scooted past her and out the door.

Maria sighed, taking his place behind me, “Never send a man to do a woman’s job.”

She flipped the hook open in half a second, but her hands were no where as warm as Michael’s.


 

* * * * *

What a mess this whole trip turned out to be. I didn’t think I’d ever think of Las Vegas the same way again after all of this.

Between crazy dreams/visions, an audition for a topless club, Buddah, whining, jail time, designer clothes with little hooks, perfect dinners and flashes from wacky producers, I was starting to wish that I had just burned the 50 grand from the Duprees and never stepped foot outside my door.

Hindsight was a bitch that way.

“Out of the van now,” the Sheriff yelled at us from the driver’s seat of our rent-a-van. He had his hat in his hand and was wearing probably the angriest look I’d seen in a while. Sighing, I resisted the urge to turn around and look at the back row of seats were Liz was sitting with Maria. We never did get to talk about the dreams and now it looked like the fates were dead set against us. Maybe we would have had this whole mess under control if we had gotten the dreams together in Roswell. I jumped out of the van and headed towards the back double doors to start pulling out everyone’s luggage.

I didn’t even want to mention the whole deal with my helping Liz get out of her dress. I just didn’t get it, you know? While fighting with that stupid little hook, I had to admit that Liz's back surprised me. All straight and smooth, like something out of a Torres painting, but it wasn't like I was a fucking ladies maid or something... I didn’t know what the hell these dreams were doing to me, but this was getting fucking ridiculous.

A moment later, the Sheriff was by my side, helping me unload luggage. “Aw, c’mon dad. Why don’t you take some of this...” I looked over to see Kyle trying to offer his father a hundred dollar bill. “... and you know, play those slot machines in the airport while we wait for the plane? You shouldn’t really be mad at us, you know... Buddha says ‘Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful... ”

Somewhere towards the end of Kyle’s speech, I could see a small vein starting to throb in the elder Valenti’s forehead as he slapped the money out of Kyle’s hands.

“Where did you kids get all the money to pay for this anyway?” he growled cutting his son off, thus ending the impromptu Buddha lesson.

Simultaneously, everyone looked over at me guiltily. I tried not to groan in frustration. Sure, make Michael the bad guy. You know that Michael, orphaned kid, from the trailer park, just let him explain everything. Next time I planned on going somewhere I was taking accomplices that could lie.

I shrugged as the Sheriff turned his questioning look towards me. “The Duprees gave me some ‘hush money’ or whatever because they thought I was some illegitimate kid of Laurie’s granddad. I didn’t want to keep the money, so I thought it would be fun to just blow it all in Vegas.”

“Why didn’t you give it to charity, start a college fund or keep it and fix up that apartment of yours?” The Sheriff asked exasperated as he began piling our bags on the nearest luggage cart.

“Trust me, Sheriff. It would take a hellva lot more than 50 grand to fix up that hellhole.” Maria commented as she threw a carry-on on to the cart.

“... and Michael? In college? He barely goes to any of his high school classes, like he’d ever go college,” The other moron twin, who I sometimes refer to as Maxwell, piped in as he leaned idly against the van as Liz struggled next to him with a large designer duffle bag.

“Very funny.” I muttered as I walked over, grabbing the luggage bag from Liz and throwing it over my shoulder since Maxwell was in Maxwell Land again, which by the way, is located directly up his ass. Liz threw me an wry smile as Max, on the other hand, shot me a dirty look.

Screw you Maxwell. I was sure that he had reverted to royal dick again during his last dance with Liz, it was plainly written all over her face in the elevator, not to mention her comment. And now he’s mad at me for helping her with her suitcase? Whatever.

“C’mon kids. Our plane leaves in an hour and a half. We’d better hurry,” the Sheriff told us as he practically herded us all into McCarran Airport.

“Fuck me.” I muttered as I took a glance at the large digital clock on the wall. It was 1:38am and we still had to wait at this damned airport for over an hour, which meant that we probably weren’t even going to back into Roswell until four, if we were lucky. I shifted Liz’s bag on my shoulder again as we walked through the airport, damn this fucking thing was heavy, what the hell did Liz pack inside this?

I looked over at her, raising an eyebrow as I shifted the bag on my shoulder to indicate the excessive weight. She shook her head at me and then pointed to Maria. Ahh. The mystery of the unbelievably heavy bag made sense now, of course only Maria could spend one day in Las Vegas and return home with three thousand dollars in designer clothing.

The Sheriff guided us to the ticket counter, which was surprisingly busy for 1:40am on a Saturday night…or Sunday morning, depending on your definition. We all grudgingly trooped into line, with Alex and Kyle at the very front pushing our mountainous luggage cart. I found myself crowded in next to Maria, Liz and Maxwell. As moments passed in silence, I couldn’t help rolling my eyes as I watched Maxwell try to subtlety maneuver himself closer and closer to Liz’s body. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I silently rooted for Liz as she inched away, trying to avoid him, unfortunately she was trapped in place by Maria who was talked animatedly to Isabel about some clothing label.

“Here Liz.” I abruptly handed her the large suitcase bag. She looked at me, surprised. “I think you should just get out of line and take it to where Alex and Kyle are.” I pointed up to the front, where Alex and Kyle were trying to throw M&M’s into each other’s mouth, or maybe bean each other in the eye, their aim looked a little off.

“Thank you, Michael,” she murmured, the corner of her mouth turning up in relief as she slid under the divider. I watched Alex give Liz a huge hug as she threw the bag on the luggage cart and sat down next to him, well away from Maxwell’s unwanted advances.

As I turned back to our line, I noticed that Maxwell’s “Soul Mate Eyes” were still firmly fixed on Liz. It seemed like he was trying his damndest to put Liz back up on that pedestal where he thought she belonged. I resisted the urge to slap my forehead, wasn’t Max ever going to learn?

“Okay,” the Sheriff announced as he walked up to our group standing in line. “I don’t know why you all are standing in line since I have all your tickets here. These are your seating assignments... Liz, Maria and Alex are in Row 5 a, b, and c. Max, Tess and myself are in Row 6 d, e, and f. Michael, Kyle and Isabel are in Row 5 d,e,f.”

As he passed out our tickets, I noticed that Maxwell’s face dropped when he realized he couldn’t sit next to Liz on the flight home.

Aw. Poor Maxwell. My heart just bleeds for you.

We all wearily left the line for the check in and collapsed in a group of uncomfortable chairs near our boarding gate. “I can’t wait to get back to Roswell so I can catch up on some sleep...” Maria yawned loudly right beside me.

No kidding.


 

* * * * *

The growling of the engine was really starting to get on my nerves, but it was the squeal of the brakes as they released that…Wait a minute, brakes? Unless I had landed in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, something was definitely wrong. I opened up my eyes to be presented not with the graying head of the passenger before me raising over deep maroon cloth, but a seat of an entirely different color sans occupant. It took me a second to realize that not only was I not buckled in anymore, but I wasn’t even on an airplane! Pushing to my feet, I was greeted by the reality that I was on some kind of bus, which was currently pulling away from the curb of the Crashdown. “What the hell is going on?”

Trying not to lose sight of the restaurant, I raced down the aisle yelling, “Could you please stop the bus, there’s been some kind of mistake.”

Whether or not the driver responded I didn’t know, my attention suddenly captured by a sight much more horrifying, “Oh my God, that man is mugging that woman! You have to stop the bus, call the police, something!”

The wavy haired brunette looked terrified, even from the block separating us. I couldn’t believe that she was being mugged, in Roswell for God sakes.

“You can’t help her, at least not now. If we don’t fix this mess, you’ll have another opportunity later.” The sound of the female voice made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Spinning around, I found the future version of me sitting just three rows away. I hadn’t even seen her when I had made my mad dash up the bus. She wasn’t looking at me, but out the window. She appeared to be saddened by the whole event as the man pulled a gun. “Then again, maybe not. Surprising that I can still forget the accidental tragedies brought about by change.”

“What are you talking about? Accidental tragedies? Why are you doing this to us?” The fact that I had gotten sucked back into the dream plane before Michael and I had gotten a chance to talk made me feel a little nauseous. I didn’t have any sort of a plan.

“Why not you?” she sighed ignoring the rest of the questions. “Michael knows you.”

“You mean because he read my…our diary? Because don’t you think that Max and I work well together?” I asked surprised. Part of me was really interested to know. Sure Max had proven that he indeed had more less than desirable qualities than I thought, but in my mind he had always been there. The ideal. To hear my future self touting another’s qualities just seemed weird.

“It’s more than words. Both people have to be willing to listen, to open up, to share.” She looked sad again. “In the future Max won’t be able to give you that. You know, you’ve met him, a possible version of him at least.”

“But he said I couldn’t tell anyone, that he couldn’t tell me because of repercussions.” In fact everything that Future Max had told me was pretty much contradicted by the fact that I was having a conversation with the older version of myself. Wasn’t this supposed to make the world explode? Maybe I needed to stop watching Scifi movies.

“He was a fool, but we all were really.” She angrily brushed a piece of hair back behind her ear. I barely restrained myself from mimicking the action.

“Just tell me why?” God, she had to make me understand. I could feel the tension rising inside of me. How could she…I…sit there and tell me Max was a fool when she wasn’t giving me anything more concrete.

Her eyes were hard when she focused them on me, hard with just a touch of something that looked like despair. "If it was really that easy don't you think we would have figured it out long ago, don't you think we wouldn't need to be contacting you to fix our disasters? I have seen what it could have been like, sifted through the strands to find the time where we made the mistakes that led us to the existence we live in now."

She was angry? What right did she have to be angry at me. She was the confusing one, she was the one talking in riddles. Still I couldn’t help, but ask anyway, "Mistakes? But, we're all fine, everyone's okay..."

“Are you sure?” She stared at me for a long moment, searching for something in my face that she obviously couldn’t find because her jaw clenched so tightly I thought I heard it pop. “God, I was so blind for this part of my life, caught up in wishing for the past, wishing for the dream, not paying attention to the present and the people who were important. You know, I distinctly remember Max saying during one of his better moments that he only trusted five people in this entire world..."

She looked down at her clenched hands, knuckles white, “…funny, he should of kept thinking that."

I looked around, hoping for a clue to be provided by the passing desert. “What are you talking about? What’s happening? Where are we going?”

When she looked at me again, her eyes were hot, boring into my brain. “This is nothing. What’s important is that you find Serena, you need to find Serena.”

“But Future Max said…”

“Jesus, he said you needed to make your own future too, and right now, to do that, you just need to find Serena Winston. She can help, she’s knows—”

“Miss, would you like some…Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were sleeping.” The stewardess pulled an apologetic face. I blinked stupidly up at her as she began to push her cart up the aisle. “I’ll come back later.”

Maria looked up from her magazine, and leaned across me to frown at the woman’s retreating back. “I bet that wouldn’t have happened in first class.”


 

* * * * *

"I thought you would be more comfortable here."

After a moment of initial panic, I realized that I was standing inside the Roswell Bowling Alley. The place was completely deserted except for some dorky looking guy with thick black framed glasses bowling alone a few lanes away. My older counterpart stood at the center ball return on our set of lanes, leaning against it causally, watching the mystery man heave his ball with absolutely no degree of accuracy. He flicked a glance over in my direction, before turning away, solemnly returning to his original task.

"Well, you were wrong."

His answer was a slight shrug of the shoulders. I took a deep breath and tried not to get angry, but I was definitely losing the battle as moments ticked by in silence.

"So, this is fucking it? You scare the shit out me, ruin the only vacation that I've ever had in my entire life and then next time you do this to me, all you do is watch that dumbass bowl? Fucking fantastic, man!" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

His body slowly swiveled until his eyes met mine in a fierce glare. "He was the second close friend that I ever lost, you never realize how close until their gone, you know? What am I saying…of course you don’t, but let me tell you, it doesn’t get any easier with time or age.”

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't even know that guy!"

"You will," He said as he settled back against the ball machine.

"Damnit! I'm so sick of this cryptic bullshit! How do I even know that this isn't some sort of Skin trap or that you're some other alien?" I broke our eye contact and threw my arms up in frustration.

"Just think about it for a second, kid. Haven't you realized that our future is seriously fucked up if this is our only option?”

"Nice try, pal." I snapped back at him and scratched my eyebrow for a moment. "You didn't answer my question. How do I know you're not a skin, or some other alien just fucking with our brains?”

He stared at me good and hard for a moment before shrugging one arm out of his leather motorcycle jacket. As he rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a large scar that traveled from his bicep to disappear under the cloth he held bunched at the top of his shoulder. "Naturally, just showing you won't be enough, so I'll tell you exactly how I got it, although, I'm pretty sure it's something that you never forget." He paused looking at his arm for a moment before continuing. "Thanks to Hank Guerin, foster-father wonder…"

I could feel the bile start to rise in my stomach as my mind flashed back to the events of a day that I seldom thought about anymore, but was forever etched in my memory. I had come home from my first day at West Roswell High School, not really thinking that Hank would be home as I walked through the door of our trailer… Hank having apparently passed my time at school by drinking…

"… I know you remember what he did when we walked in the door, kid. Evidently, we were too 'noisy' for his taste, waking him from his drunken stupor and decided to get even with the aid of a broken Coors Light bottle, that fucking bastard."

The agony of that moment, hit me full force as I did my best not to double over from the sheer pain of the memory. Staggering out of the trailer, trailing alien blood all over the place, I ended up collapsing in the plants surrounding the surrounding the neighbors kiddy pool. I'll never know how long I had lain there, bleeding all over the place, cursing God, life, everything. After I was only okay enough to drag myself over to Maxwell's, so he could heal the wound I conveniently blamed on my own lack of grace, I had the added bonus of listen to him lecture about being more careful. I looked away from his piercing golden eyes, refusing to show weakness to this older version of myself.

"Satisfied, kid?"

"Yeah." I muttered.

"As I was saying, you realize, don't you, that the future is pretty fucked up if this…" He swung his arms out wide for a moment, "… is our only option left?

"But why now? Why me? Why Liz?"

He just shook his head, “You know it was in a bowling alley just like this when it hit me, how special it was with her, how powerful the connection was we shared. We had been on the run for two years and the last city we left on a moment's notice, with almost every possession we had left behind in some dingy apartment. We had finally settled down in God…I think it was Seattle…not that it really mattered, but one day I discovered a copy of Ulysses on my bed with 'You shouldn't have to leave everything you love behind…' inscribed on the inside cover."

He turned and studied man bowling for a moment before turning back to me. "I was working and I kept thinking back to the fact that we'd wake from nightmares together, only for her they weren’t nightmares. Turns out they weren’t nightmares for me either…an alien door prize really. Jesus, the moment that I stopped fighting her at every turn, starting listening, things became so much simpler…but by then, I had fucked up...it was too late, bonds had been made that couldn't be undone.”

"Listen, I don't understand what you're talking about. If it's so important, if everything in the future is so fucked up, then just tell me what I need to do!" I banged my fist down on top of the ball return machine angrily.

He smirked at me for a moment. "First off, you need to stop that 'I' shit. You're part of a "we" now and if she doesn't help you…" He shrugged. "…then I guess your timeline is going to be just as fucked up as ours."

I took a deep breath and tried again through gritted teeth. "Fine. Tell me what 'WE' need to do."

"Listen closely kid, just go and find Serena Winston, she's …"

"Mwwwwwwhaaaaaaa! Ten bucks, Whitman! I told you how accurate I was at peanut flicking!" I cracked open one eye to see Kyle cheering next to me, while Alex sadly handed him a ten dollar bill across the aisle. The Sheriff, Alex’s seatmate, snatched the money away, using the same hand to smack his son upside the head. “Jesus Kyle, we’re in public.”

Absently brushing away the salt from the little stinging wound in the middle of my forehead, it took the reality of the dream hit me in full force. Fingers scrambling for my seatbelt, I whipped my gaze up the aisle where I was confronted with Liz’s stricken eyes meeting my own. No, no…it couldn’t have happened again…

She must have seen something in my expression because she blanched before mouthing one word, a name really, “Serena…”

In one frantic motion, I was shoving passed Kyle and racing towards the bathrooms. I was going to be sick.


 

* * * * *

La Quinta Inn - Morro Bay, California – 2009

Michael’s hands jerked sporadically in Liz’s, while she struggled to maintain the astral projection. Something strange had happened to their past selves, something that Liz, ten years in the future couldn’t control. Despite the feeling that Liz was losing their connection, she slammed her eyes shut tighter and focused all her alien energies on maintaining the connection.

“It’s no use, Liz.” She heard Michael whisper and squeeze her hands softly. “We lost the connection.”

His golden eyes met her brown ones, ones tinged with hope, the other tinged with sadness. Liz opened and closed her mouth to speak, but she didn’t need to ask as she felt Michael’s emotions and feelings seep into her very consciousness.

“You know it was in a bowling alley just like this when it hit me, how special it was with her, how powerful the connection was we shared... Liz smiled to herself as was ready to project her own experience back to Michael when Max ungracefully reminded them that he was still definitely present in the room.

"Well?" Max asked impatiently, his tension frying their already taunt nerves. "What happened? Liz, why are you smiling?"

"Kyle," Michael began, just as Liz murmured, "A stewardess." They looked at each other, sharing a sad laugh..."Fate."

"And you think that's funny?" Max asked incredulously, the lines around his mouth tautening. He looked at Liz and Michael, still utterly confused about the situation. "I need an explanation of exactly what happened in your projection."

Michael shrugged. "We each told our younger selves to look for Serena Winston...”

"It took you 23 minutes and 56 seconds to tell your younger selves about Serena? Did you recount her life story too?" Max snapped.

"Hmm, let's see Max," Isabel broke in as she stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around her hair, "and what would that consist of? She came, she played with the Granolith, we went back in time? Oh wait, that was in the other lifetime, the lifetime where the only knowledge you imparted to Liz was the end of the world and your wedding song. If you could get distracted for days..."

"Stay out of it Isabel," Max growled before turning back to the two still holding hands. "I'll just see for myself..." His amber colored eyes briefly flicked down to the image of his wife tightly holding hands with his second in command.

He reached forward, hands outstretched to latch onto those clasped before him, ready to make a connection, but his sister jumped forward at the last second and slapped him away.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Max?" Isabel screamed, Liz appeared shocked and Michael immediately pushed her behind him and away from her husband. "That's a violation to enter someone's mind like that. You would be devastated if Nicholas did it to one of us, yet there you go...Sometimes I wonder if you even think before you act."

“Have we lost our privacy too? Along with our will to make our own decisions?” Michael asked in a calm voice, one hand tucking Liz behind him.

"When it involves all of us, there is not such thing as privacy." Max roared to his sister and second, trying to make them understand.

"We've lived for years in that stupid piece of shit van, with practically nothing to ourselves... You're trying to take away the one thing that is uniquely theirs, Max!" Isabel yelled at her brother and in a moment of fury ripped the towel from her head and threw it at him. "Just because you're my King, doesn't mean you have the right to know what's inside my brain!" She quickly walked back into the small bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Max sighed and turned to Liz, who had stepped out beside Michael, her small hand still securely tucked away in his larger one. “What about you, Liz? Don’t I have the right to see what’s in your head? Not as your king, but as your husband?"

"You stopped wanting to know what was going on inside my head a long time ago..." Liz snapped at her shell-shocked husband. "So don’t fucking pretend like you care now."

"Jesus Christ Liz, how can you say that?" For once, Max's eyes lost the coldness that seemed to perpetually rest there. Realizing for the first time that his sister and his second were guarding his wife from him.

"When? When was the last time you asked me what I thought without berating me? When was the last time you actually considered me something more than an object that you must coordinate around?"

"No, Liz. It's not like that. I don't think of you like that..."

"Don't you? Fine, because to tell you the truth I really don't have the energy to argue about this. I'm going back to the van." Liz spun on her heel and quickly stomped out their motel door towards the van.

"Nice move, Maxwell. You've seemed to have picked up this uncanny knack on how to clear a room." Michael shrugged as he sat back down on the motel’s lone chair.

"Well, maybe I had enough of sitting here watching you fondle my wife’s hands. You're trying to take her away from me." Max turned his rage towards Michael.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to, if you weren’t so intent on driving her away...” Michael scratched his eyebrow looked out the window.

"And you just welcome her with open arms, been brushing up on your Camelot again Michael?"

"Not a comparison I'd be making Max..."

“Why because Lancelot got the girl in the end?"

"No, because the round table failed... and the great dream of Camelot ended in ruins."

The bathroom door nosily opened and Isabel stepped out, giving her ‘brothers’ a harsh look. "Jesus, you're both just driving her insane. Has anyone noticed how close to breaking she is right now? How much energy is she using to try to save our sorry existence?" She paused for a moment, letting her words sink into the minds of her brothers, before shaking her head. "I'm going to see Liz out in the van, when you two have grown up a little, please feel free to join us."

Neither Max nor Michael moved as Isabel strode by and left the motel room.

However, at the sound of her surprised scream moments later, they both catapulted from their positions and through the opening, each of them terrified at what could be happening beyond the doorway. Their momentum was halted abruptly in an attempt to keep from trampling Isabel who stood frozen twenty feet from the car, hand outstretched to attack. At first the alien girl appeared to be aiming for Liz’s back, but upon closer examination, both men could make out the blonde who had a death grip on her arm.

“Ava,” Isabel gasped, answering their unspoken question.

“Take your hands off of her,” Michael yelled, starting to slowly circle around to the side of the two women.

“We heard the news report, we know what you did to your adopted sister,” Max told the blonde in disgust.

“No-no,” she choked out in a sob, eyes wide at their accusations. Liz immediately pulled in her to a hug, shielding her body from the others.

“Liz, what are you doing?” Max asked aghast. “She’s the enemy!”

Michael frowned, becoming aware for the first time that no fear traveled to him through their connection. “What a minute Max—”

Liz didn’t let him finish, pining her husband with an exhausted glare, “She’s not Tess, Max, she never was. Just like you weren’t like Zan, Michael like Rath…”

“Or me, like Lonnie,” Isabel finished, approaching the other girl for the first time. “Considering the amount of time I spend convincing myself of that fact, I’m sorry about my reaction.”

She reached out to touch the blonde alien, but she flinched, pulling away to face the group, “Felt it, the shift.”

She rubbed her arms for warmth, shirtsleeves raising to flash faded tattoos, “The false king is dead, long live his puppet master.” She snorted, looking up to catch them all with eyes tinged with fear, “Then Lonnie’s at my door, talking shit ‘bout family, duty, and I tell’er to fuck off, ‘cause I got a new family, a real one. She tol’ me I’d be sorry.”

“What do you mean by the puppet master?” Michael asked dreading that he knew the answer.

Ava looked away then, out at the setting sun, and it was Liz who finished for her, “Nicholas.” She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear with a trembling hand as she translated, “The false king Khivar is dead. Long live Nicholas.”