Michael Guerin was scared. I could tell by the way his skin bleached out, his eyes widening even as the rest of his face went slack, although even if I hadn’t had a clue, his mad dash up the aisle would have given me a clue. I had only seen that look on his face once before, right after he’d killed Pierce, after he had stood perfectly still just staring down at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. I don’t know what made me mouth Serena’s name, what little devil or need drove me to say the one thing that would set him off if these dreams we were having were real. Maybe I just needed to prove to myself they weren’t the result of inhaling the Las Vegas air.

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?

“Damn,” I mumbled, yanking hard on the tab of my seatbelt to free myself.

What’s important is that you find Serena, you need to find Serena.

“What do you think is up with Spaceboy?” Maria frowned at my struggle to free myself from the teenage proof safety harness. “Where are you going?”

“Didn’t you notice the pasty color Michael was sporting.” I reached down to pull on my shoes. Damn these dreams! Why couldn’t they just make sense?

“He did look a little green…” I didn’t have to see her face to know that realization had struck. “Oh, ew…Poor Michael.”

I stood up to find Maria looking a little green herself. Her inability to deal with bodily fluids like puke had long been a fascination to me, and the reason why she’d never really done a lot of babysitting. If Maria was around when you got sick, chances were she’d puke right along with you. “Don’t worry, I was dissecting pig embryos before we came, I think I’m pretty impervious to alien vomit.”

“Thanks Liz,” she called out after me as I headed in the direction Michael had gone. “I’ll see if I can get a cool towel for him, or maybe find some anti-nausea medication.”

I didn’t even bother to tell her that he probably wouldn’t be able to take it given the aliens propensity to experience everything with heightened senses. She needed to feel useful, and I needed her out of the way. I had a feeling that Michael wouldn’t be the best patient in the world. I knocked on the lavatory door. “Hey, can I come in.”
       
“Go away,” I heard him choke out only to have his words followed by the sound of retching. Shaking my head at the male ego I pulled open the door, if he wanted to be left alone he should remembered to lock the damn thing. Sliding tightly against the sink, the remnants of cold water left there soaking into my jeans, I managed to close the door. I barely resisted gagging at the smell. “You wouldn’t happen to have special alien air freshening powers, would you?”

“Not appreciating your humor right now, Parker,” he gasped. “So leave.”

Like hell that was going to happen. Taking pity on him, I brushed his hair out of his face as he gagged again. When he was through, I twisted around to wet a paper towel. “Here. Use this to wipe your face, the coolness will help.”

He glared up at me, but I noticed that he didn’t hesitate to snatch the paper away.

“Excuse me! A passenger reported seeing two people come in here.” A pounding commenced on the door, “It’s against policy to have to people in the lavatory together…”

It was my turn to glare. I did not need this. What did she think we were doing, having sex? Michael’s run hadn’t struck me as having any of the “I’m going to get some” qualities. At my feet, the alien in question, and my supposed lavatory lovin’ partner, groaned, “I can’t believe I’m saying this Parker, but we need to be alone.”

“…I’m authorized to fine you…” Tuning out the stewardess, I stared down on him.

“Alone to talk, I mean.” If he hadn’t just been seriously ill, I would have attributed the red in his cheeks to a blush, but it was probably just from the exertion of throwing up airplane food.

“Believe me Michael, I understand. I didn’t wake up this morning thinking I needed some quality time alone with you either.” The stewardess was pounding louder now, and it was getting on my last nerve. Vegas was supposed to be relaxing, or at least that’s what Maria billed it as. I was pretty sure I was more stressed now than when I left. “Hold on, I have to take care of something.”

I wrenched open the door to be confronted with the woman who’d woken me from my dream conversation early. This was the woman that prevented me from learning anything more than a name. There went that nerve.

“Listen lady, I don’t know what gutter your mind has stumbled into, or what kind of little sexual quirks you’re into on your off days, but I am definitely not tempted to join the mile high club by with a friend who is currently experiencing the Technicolor rainbow from the wrong end.” Her eyes widened, and for a moment it occurred to me that I might actually be intimidating her, but considering she had six inches on me in those heels, I didn’t bet on it. Instead I took a page from Maria’s book, took a deep breath and kept on going. “So if you want to prove that these are indeed the friendly skies, I would suggest you go back to your cart and find a ginger ale for him or something because sadly I have a feeling it’s going to be awhile and I doubt you want the contents of your half-rate food spewed all over the seats when it can be contained here in the bathroom.”

I slammed the door in her face, spinning around to find Michael wearing a faint smirk. “Wow Parker, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You don’t have a clue what I’m capable of,” I growled, automatically taking the paper towel from him and replacing it with another wet one. “So let’s talk. I had a dream.”

“You and Martin Luther King Jr.” The color was returning to his face along with his attitude.

“You know what I meant Michael.” I used the same tone that mother did on huge truck drivers and Harley guys who didn’t want to pay their bills. “In my dreams she mentioned a girl named Serena Winston.”

“Same here,” he agreed warily. Maybe the tone worked for me too. “Whoever the hell she is.”

“She was supposed to become my friend sometime in the next fourteen years.”

Michael looked puzzled, “Your dream told you this?”

“Not exactly, you see—” the pounding on the door was back again, only this time it was accompanied by Maria’s voice.

“Hey Liz, they gave me an ice pack, and the little old lady two aisles down from us said to put it on the back of his neck. How’re you doing Spaceboy.”

“Fine,” Michael grunted, starting to push to his feet, which necessitated both of us performing a complicated set of contortions for it to actually happen. In the end, I ended up sitting smack dab in the middle of the water puddles surrounding the sink with him facing me. “We have to talk, Parker.”

I rolled my eyes. Hadn’t we just done this scene? I took a deep breath and tried to cut him some slack, he had just been sick. Still could he crowd any closer? I mean I knew that the space was small, but I had a bubble he was violating. Confirming that the fates were indeed against me, the plane chose that moment to experience turbulence. Michael’s right hand smacked against the mirror at the same time that my head did, while his left latched on to my knee. Thankfully, I was able to keep us from smacking foreheads by bracing my hands against his chest. “Ow.”

“Shit.” We stared at each other. Maria voice murmured through the door again asking if we were alright. I moved my palms to the wet counter.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. Ten. Your place,” I gritted out, the tingles racing up my leg were reminding me just how ticklish I was, making me wish I was wearing pants instead of shorts. I stared pointedly down at his hands. “You can let go know.”

“Not a problem.”

I was really beginning to hate the way the corner of his mouth curved up like that. He yanked open the door, slid by me and managed to snatch the ice pack out of Maria’s hands all before I had a chance to reply. It was at times like these that I wished I had laser vision or some other cool alien power to zap his ass with. I refused to be amused by the stuttering of the stewardess I could hear in the aisle as I hopped off the counter and exited the lavatory to stand with Maria.

“Um Liz, did you know your butt’s all wet?”

God, I hated men.


 

* * * * *

“Here you go, son.” The Sheriff pulled the police van up in front of my apartment building. I wearily grabbed my battered duffle bag, and had barely managed to drag myself out of the front seat when the window rolled down, Valenti’s voice stopping me. “Michael. I just want to let you know that you risked your emancipated minor status on this trip, so I hope it was worth it.”

My mind flashed back to Liz’s pale face on the plane as she mouthed ‘Serena Winston’ to me, fear evident on her features. Liz was quickly replaced by my future self, looking gaunt and stressed, no control over the situation he was in.

“Yeah. I guess it was,” I muttered. Valenti shrugged and was about to pull away when I leaned a hand against the window frame. “Sheriff?”

“Yes, Michael?”

I took a deep breath. I needed to do this, I needed to start us on the right path... Apparently, time that we didn’t have was ticking away. “Can you do me a favor and look up to see if there is anyone by the name of Serena Winston living in Roswell?”

Valenti raised an eyebrow at me. “I’ll take a look when I get back into the office and I’ll let you know.” He took off his mirrored police sunglasses, searching eyes meeting mine. “Can I ask why?”

“I don’t really know why myself, Sheriff. When I figure out what’s going on, I’ll fill you in.” I shrugged. Hell, I would love to know why I needed to find Serena Winston, but your vertically challenged son decided to hit me the forehead with a damned peanut!

The Sheriff nodded and with a wave pulled away from my apartment building, leaving me alone with my thoughts for the first time in two days. I walked up to my door, dead tired, wanting to change my clothes, wishing that I could get rid of the nauseous feeling that popped up every time I thought of the newest dream...

... that and I probably smelled like puke.

What did Parker mean by 10? She didn’t say am or pm, she just said ten. Damn that Parker, couldn't she be a little bit more specific? I understood that we were smashed in a tiny airline bathroom at the time and I just had my head in a toilet, but couldn’t she give me something more to go on? Never mind the fact that I had nothing to hold on to but her during that turbulence. I had to think like Parker, well, minus the moony eyes at Max, not that she'd been giving him those lately, more like the other way around in all actuality...

My key clinked against the metal lock, the scrape of metal against metal signaling that I had failed for the third time in making the hole.

Okay, Guerin, just focus for a fucking second... have to think like Parker, she was probably trying to get around her parents, and that means early. I winced as I missed again. Ten am it was.

Wearily looking over my shoulder, I finally gave up with my fight against the obvious superior human technology and just raised my hand to the door, letting the power seep through my hand to unlock it.

Maybe she meant 10pm.

"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?”

Fuck.

I dropped my keys on the ground and threw my duffle bag somewhere near my bedroom door. It was too far to travel there on my own.

Maybe these dreams had finally just gotten to me and I’d lost my fucking mind.
I dragged myself to my couch, my primary destination, and collapsed on it, smacking my head against the arm. Damned thing was too small, so my legs were dangling over one side as I drew my arm over my eyes and tried to get a moment’s sleep.

What was Liz thinking, following me into the bathroom? Was she trying to help me when I was sick, or did she just want to badger me for more information. I gotta admit, she had more spunk than I had thought, telling off that stewardess like she did. If I hadn’t been face first in the toilet, I definitely would have liked to see the pissed off look on Liz’s face. I bet it was probably a lot like the pissed off look that she had when I accidentally smashed her into the sink. I could have practically counted her eyelashes, and the way her nails dug into my chest must have left marks.

I rubbed at my sternum frowning. Dammit! I was fucking tired as hell, I shouldn’t be thinking about Liz Parker. Get some sleep, dumbass. I wouldn’t have been thinking of her at all if it wasn’t for these stupid dreams

In fact, the next time I saw the older version of myself, I was going to tell him to take his stupid bleed over emotions and stuff them straight up his ass, because I couldn’t concentrate on anything I needed to when all I was thinking about her small hands on my chest.

You're part of a "we" now and if she doesn't help you…then I guess your timeline is going to be just as fucked up as ours."

Fuck this.

I popped up from the couch and stalked over to my kitchen. This was crazy. I was not sitting here thinking of Liz Parker. I was not going to lose sleep contemplating our next meeting, what I was going to say. I angrily poured myself a glass of juice and drank it quickly, enjoying the taste of the cool liquid. On my way back to my couch, I grabbed my small alarm clock and set the timer for 9:15am, I needed to get at least some sleep if I was supposed to go over to Liz’s and make sense of myself in four hours.


 

* * * * *

My eyes were gritty and dry, my body felt like lead, but all I could do was stare at the ceiling and contemplate her words, my meeting with Michael, and what to do next. Truthfully I didn’t have a clue beyond trying to track down Serena Winston, my supposed friend, and provider of Granolith knowledge whether she knew it or not. The excitement of finally have a clue, a name, was overshadowed by her cryptic words to me.

…I distinctly remember Max saying during one of his better moments that he only trusted five people in this entire world...

Max had said that regarding Tess, but did she mean that Tess was an enemy somehow? Sure she could be a pain, and I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire, but she’d helped save us when the Skins attacked, she’d practically been adopted by the Valenti clan, and she’d gone through hell in New York. Our feelings for each other aside, she didn’t seem evil as much as annoying anymore. Besides, Future Max told me that we needed her to complete the four square. That she was a key element.

He was a fool, but we all were really.

God, could she have been more obscure. Was that what the future was going to do to me? Turn me into a puzzling, mysterious type who couldn’t give a straight answer if my life depended on it? Because it obviously did, and all she could do was spout words that confused more than they informed. How the hell was I supposed to help save myself when I didn’t know what to save myself from?

I grabbed a pillow and dragged it down over my face. I thought about pressing down. Maybe I should just end it all now, therefore negating my obvious detrimental affect on the world’s future. I lifted up the pillow to contemplate its white surface before throwing it and its temptation across the room. I wasn’t the suicidal type. Besides, the minute I passed out the pressure would release anyway and the only thing I would get from the deal was a headache. That, and a pissy Michael, something I could do without.

Next to me, the clock’s red letters announced it was 8:03, which meant that I had maybe, maybe achieved three hours of sleep, although more exact estimates that factored in tossing, turning and overall restlessness would probably put the number closer to two. Two hours of sleep and I was supposed to be civil. Michael couldn’t even find it in his heart to apologize for being all over me in the bathroom and now I was supposed to carry on a coherent conversation with him?

It’s more than words, people have to be willing to listen, to open up, to share.

I rolled out of bed, marching resolutely to my drawers to grab some clean clothes.

Michael Guerin willing to open up and listen? I’d believe it when I saw it, which better happen soon, because I wasn’t waiting around for ten anymore. It was apparent that we had to talk if I ever wanted to sleep again.


 

* * * * *

“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.”

“Fucking A.” I growled as I sat up and threw one of my couch cushions across the room. I was never going to get any goddamned sleep until I talked to Liz. Every time I closed my eyes and started to relax, I would hear his voice, Liz’s voice and sometimes even her future self’s voice.

Hell, it was like a reunion inside my brain. It seemed that everyone else was having a grand freaking time. Maybe I should just invite all our future selves to come and party, wouldn’t want anyone to be left out. Apparently, I didn’t really need to be using it anyway.

I ran one hand wearily through my hair and sighed. What the hell happened in the future? I mean, the future me didn’t look that much older, maybe only six or seven years or so, but what the hell happened in these six years that would lead me to do this?

One especially terrifying fear that kept bouncing around in my mind was, whether or not we had already made the major mistakes now that would lead us to that future? Or did we have some time to be able to stop it? I just couldn’t shake the feeling that we were running out of time and Liz and I hadn’t even had a talk yet, due to our inability to avoid our friends.

Some saviors we were. We didn’t have a plan or a clue as to who Serena Winston was.

I looked over at the small alarm clock on my coffee table, which informed me that it was only 8:10. I still had two hours until I was supposed to meet Liz, but like hell I could actually rest during that time. Grabbing my backpack and motorcycle helmet, I stomped out of my apartment, determined to get to the bottom of these dreams/visions, so maybe my life could go back to just being slightly normal.

I hoped Parker was awake, because I just couldn’t wait any longer to try and figure out what type of mess we were in now.


 

* * * * *

Notepad.

Check.

Pen.

Check.

Several more pens and a few pencils just in case the first pen stops working.

Check times five.

Realization that my anality was springing from my insanity caused by strange dreams from the future, and that maybe I should just check my self into a mental hospital.

Tabled…along with my impending breakdown until this mess was sorted out.

I stared down at the backpack that I had stuffed until the seems looked ready to burst with the things I thought I would need for our discussion. It looked more like I was going on a bear hunt than just heading over to his apartment. I removed everything, but the pad, my favorite pen, and a bottle of water. I needed to be able to take notes, be able to write down any parallels in our dreams, any clues. Sure Michael might have paper and pen, but that was no guarantee. He was a guy after all.

I stared at the water bottle. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much. Michael did have running water at his apartment. I started to remove it only to stop myself. Hey, I could get thirsty on the walk there. Besides, I had seen the inside of Michael’s apartment, I could have water…if I wanted to drink directly from the faucet.

Hauling the now much lighter backpack over my shoulder, I slid out my open window and on to the balcony. Since I was grounded, my parents would not look kindly on me if I got caught sneaking out, so I took extra care in shutting it. Taking a big breath, I mentally strengthened my resolve not to get mad at Michael, I was tracking the ultimate of grouchy bears to his den, I had to be prepared when I interrupted his sleep. It wasn’t like he had received any more than I had. I stared longingly at the supplies I had left behind on my floor, maybe I did need them.

No. I could do this.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“Michael Guerin,” I whispered. “Here I come.”

“Talking to yourself, Parker?”

I barely stopped myself from screeching as I spun around. I felt like grabbing my heart to make sure it hadn’t beat completely out of my chest, but it struck me as a bit too much of a Maria moment, so instead I stared at him like an idiot. World, if I was your savior, be afraid.

“Trying to runaway without talking to me?” He scratched his eyebrow, tensing his body into an upright position in my lounge chair.

“I was heading to your place!” Hmm, I didn’t know my voice could reach that decibel of outrage. Michael winced, and I imagined I could hear dogs howling in the distance. So much for being quiet. Still, I made a conscious effort to control my voice, “I thought we decided on your place.”

He snorted, “No, you decided on my place, and I couldn’t sleep, so I figured here is just as good a place as any.”

“We—we can’t,” I stuttered. Note to self: lack of sleep causes inability to transmit thoughts in a coherent fashion.

His brows drew together, the little furrows between them deepening along with those that lined his mouth. I never realized it, but Michael doesn’t have laugh lines like most people, but frown lines, ones that I knew from the flashes would only get deeper as we got older. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but I didn’t find him very threatening, if he had been paying attention on the ride back to Roswell he would know why we couldn’t have our conversation here. “Max said he had something really important that he wanted to talk to me about this afternoon.”

Michael groaned, “Great. That means that we can’t go to my apartment either because he always shows up at my place when he can’t find you. ‘Where do you think Liz could be? You don’t thinks she’s mad at me, do you Michael?’”

I don’t know if Michael realized it, but when he was mimicking Max he would open his eyes really wide so they looked kind of glassy, and I would swear that his ears stuck out a little more. I swallowed back my laughter, it would only condone the behavior dammit and we needed to actually get something accomplished. “Well if we can’t go to your apartment then where?”

We stared at each other for a moment. It was a harder question than it looked.

“The backroom,” he suggested.

“My parents and the other waitresses would be interrupting.”

“The pod chamber?”

“Max could show up there, as could Isabel.”

“Why would they?” Michael threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

“I don’t know, maybe they want to remember what it was like to be covered with green slime, or to get in touch with their inner child. Who knows? Why were we interrupted the last couple of times we talked?”

“Well then, where do you suggest? We can’t go to Senor Chow’s because it’s near the UFO Center and the waiters would interrupt us. We can’t go to the park because barring the invasion of the ankle-biters this town considers their future, Max walks through there on his way to your place.”

I searched my brain for a possibility, any possibility. Who would have thought it would be so hard to be alone in Roswell. Obviously some people know the secret because the high school students still found a way to have sex.

Sex.

Lover’s Point.

Frasier Woods.

Perfect.

Well okay, Lover’s Point wasn’t perfect, but hopefully the rest of the area would be people and hormone free. “Frasier Woods, we could go there.”

“We shouldn’t underestimate the menace of the appearing Forest Ranger.” Michael rolled his eyes, and then apparently struck by a thought, smirked. “Smokey the Bear might stop by, heard you were starting forest fires with your temper.”

“Can you think of a better place?” I gritted out. He thought he’d seen my temper on the airplane. My eyes narrowed.

“Hey, no, Frasier Woods it is.” Got up from the lounge chair, and I noticed he was still smirking as he snatched the bag he had brought with him. “But we better keep an eye out for Big Foot. Are you sure about…”

I cursed myself for not packing anything to throw at him. Oh well, maybe my water bottle could act as a club.


 

* * * * *

“…Are you sure about Frasier Woods, Liz? I mean, it’s a popular place from hikers, to bears and lions, oh my.”

She shot me a death look as she climbed down the ladder. “Don’t push it Michael.”

I shrugged. Liz's eyes narrowed to slits, and suddenly I knew why the stewardess had been stuttering. I decided not to inform her that it would only be scary for me if she was a few inches taller and a few hundred pounds heavier and, well, male.

We rounded the corner of the alleyway from the Crashdown and neared the parking lot where I had parked my bike in silence. I walked up to the bike and was about to get on, when I noticed that Liz had suddenly stopped dead in her tracks a few feet away.

"Look Michael, you don't look like you got much sleep, maybe we should just walk someplace," Liz murmured and bit her lower lip.

"And get caught by Maxwell, who you seem so intent on avoiding? I got four hours of sleep, Liz. I'm fine. Get on the damned bike," I growled. We didn’t have time for this crap right now. "Besides, it’s more hours of sleep than I usually got with Hank around anyway."

Liz stared at my motorcycle, eyes wide. "Oh, well, it’s just…Did you know that 34% of all motorcycle accidents end in..."

"You don't trust me, Liz?" I leaned back across the brick wall at the Crashdown and scratched my eyebrow.

"No, Michael, I trust you, I just don't trust what you drive."

"Parker, I know how to drive my motorcycle and I’m certainly not going crash it. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, but if it makes you feel any better..." I reached down into my backpack and pulled out my spare motorcycle helmet, "just wear this."

“Wow, that's planning ahead, I thought you wanted to talk here?" I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic, or really congratulating me.

"Well, considering our luck lately, I'm prepared for just about anything." I shrugged. "Do you want to wear it or not?"

"It will at least give the illusion of safety...” She took the helmet out my hands cautiously.

"C'mon Liz. He told me that once we start working together, everything will become so much easier." I tried not to shout out in frustration. Damn and Maria thought I was stubborn. At this rate, neither one of us would ever get any sleep again and the world would go straight to hell.

“Well I don't think our future selves want us to die before we can figure this stuff out."

I noticed she was tentatively inching towards the bike however. Time to go in for the kill
"Well if you don't want to talk..." I shrugged and started to walk towards the front of the Crashdown, “...maybe Jose will make me some breakfast. Anything’s better than airplane food.”

“Damn it, Michael," she huffed slamming the helmet on her head. "Let's go."

I couldn't help the smirk that passed over my face, both for winning my mini-battle with Liz and how goofy she looked in the motorcycle helmet.

I jumped on the bike and revved the engine. "You'd better hang on tight, Parker!"

I thought I heard her mutter something that sounded vaguely like fuck off under her breath as she cautiously climbed on behind me, but I doubted perfect Parker would stoop so low.

Then again, considering the way she ripped apart that stewardess, I had to admit she had a temper. As I hit the gas a little harder than normal while pulling out of the Crashdown parking lot, she had to snake her arms around my waist to remain on the bike. I was jut giving her a hard time for being such a wimp. The hand clenching a fistful of my shirt didn’t even really register, but when her fingers grazed my belly, I almost crashed the bike.


 

* * * * *

The last thing I saw before the visions hit was the bike heading towards a parked car.

"I thought you would be more comfortable here."

Oh God. No. Not now. I could feel the motorcycle shift, but all I could see…

He was the second close friend that I ever lost, you never realize how close until their gone… it doesn’t get any easier with time or age.”

I couldn’t keep my nails from digging deeply into Michael’s flesh. I bit my lip hard, but they just kept coming.

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?

Hadn’t realized that these flashes could kill us? I kept trying to open my eyes, see where we were going…it took me a moment to realize it was the visions clouding my vision not my eyelids. Oh God, if I couldn’t see, what were they doing to Michael?

…just like this when it hit me, how special it was with her, how powerful the connection was we shared…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.

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…

What the hell was he talking about? What nightmares? The only nightmare I was experiencing at the moment was reality. Please Michael, you could do it. Please get us through this. I hated being powerless, but there was nothing I could do to help. The bike rocked beneath me.

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

Listen closely kid, just go and find Serena Winston…

I really don’t know if I screamed, or even made a sound, but suddenly the visions were gone, Michael and I were still in one piece, and the bike idling next to the curb. When I thought the flashes were going to be the death of me, I had never meant it literally.

“Liz, could you move your claws please?” His voice sounded rough. I quickly retracted the nails that had sliced into his skin and raised my hand to his safe t-shirt covered chest.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that happened.” I was sure that he could feel my heart thumping a million times a minute against his back. Maybe our future versions really were trying to kill us. I couldn’t even comprehend everything I had seen, I was so scared.

“Don’t worry, we just need to avoid skin to skin contact while operating motor vehicles.” His entire body was rigid and I could see that his knuckles were showing bright white where they gripped the brake.

I didn’t reply, and he didn’t seem to expect one, simply taking off again—a lot slower this time—while I tried to puzzle out the reason we were afflicted with the flashes now. Why not in the bathroom when I held the hair out of his face or when he grabbed my knee? Did they need a few hour delay? It had been at least four to five hours after we had the dreams the first time that we had the flashes together, when I had grabbed Michael’s arm to break my fall.

I had to wonder if I was causing the connection, both times I was the one to make contact with Michael, not the other way around. Although that didn’t explain the bathroom. I guess one could argue that hair was dead cells, and therefore incapable of transmitting any signals. But if I was the conductor and the initiator, what about Michael set them off, what about me started them? There were so many angles from which to observe this, so many variables to take into account that it made my mind spin.

The bike shifted beneath me as we turned, and I squeezed myself tighter against his back, suddenly afraid of a repeat. It took me a second to regain my focus, in my mind I slowly sifted through the flashes I had received from Michael, looking for clues.

"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?”

Okay, my future self said the same thing, so it sounded like they were operating from the same script. Parallels were good.

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 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.

Were Michael and I married in the future? That seemed like a pretty intimate gift, especially considering how much he loved that book. I can still remember the day Maria found out about it, raving to me that she’d actually found an intelligent man “even if he did hide it under a pile of BS.”

I shook my head slightly at the thought. My future self was wearing a wedding band, but it appeared Michael’s was not. Besides Michael would probably be with Maria, wouldn’t he? The thought of Michael and I getting together was just such a foreign concept. He didn’t even really like me, and I had certainly never thought… But then what did my future self mean when she talked about him?

It’s more than words. Both people have to be willing to listen, to open up, to share. 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.

Was I married to Max? I didn’t seem to have a very high opinion of him in the future, not that I had one of him at the moment either. How he could claim to love me and trust me and then be so completely closed off to me was something I just didn’t understand. Still, if I was married to Max did that mean that Michael and I were just good friends? I fought hard against the little voice that whispered about affairs and betrayals. Michael and I would never do that. We had absolutely nothing in common so what would be the attractor? Well, okay, we had this in common, but we weren’t causing the dreams, our future selves were. Maybe I was missing something, something that I didn’t understand or couldn’t see. I definitely was missing what went wrong in the next…what? seven, eight years?...that drove us to perpetuate this plan.

…I kept thinking back to the fact that we'd wake from nightmares together, only for her they weren’t nightmares.

It was that comment that really worried me. If they weren’t nightmares then what were they? Was I experiencing them now without knowing it?


 

* * * * *

“You can’t help her, at least not now. If we don’t fix this mess, you’ll have another opportunity later.”

Oh please, not again. The flashes were coming on so strong from Liz that I couldn't see, I couldn't move, I could only watch Liz's dream play before me. My stomach twisted in my gut, threatening a repeat of last night's airplane display.

“Why not you? Michael knows you.”

My hands were clenched around the rubber contours of the handlebars as I tried to divert some energy from taking my foot off the gas petal. If I didn't slow us down, we weren't going to get the opportunity to save the world; we would just end up as another one of Liz's statistics.

“It’s more than words. Both people have to be willing to listen, to open up, to share. 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.”

“He was a fool, but we all were really.”

Max continues his foolish ways into the future? Tell me it ain't so. What a freakin' surprise. Jesus Christ, did I just see a car in front of us?

“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… funny, he should of kept thinking that."

Suddenly, my vision cleared, a high pitched wail clearing both it and my mind. Thanks to my reflexes, I was able to quickly steer the bike away from a parked car at the last moment. I left it idling but a curb while I took a moment to catch my breath and process what just happened.

My mind replayed all the flashes over again. However, there were two parts that worried me.

Liz had already met a possible version of Max? What the hell was going on? Could this be the Max with stupid looking long hair and a leather jacket? Does everyone in the future wear leather? I was starting to have a sneaking suspicion that Liz wasn't telling me something. Something big and something important.

“It’s more than words. Both people have to be willing to listen, to open up, to share.”

You know, this was completely Liz Parker’s fault, I figured as I steered the bike back on to the main road and stared driving again. I had almost crashed my most valued possession, my motorcycle because she had to get all grabby on me. What was she thinking, sliding her hands were they didn’t belong. The last thing I had expected to feel were her fingers on my stomach…

Plus, the force of her flashes practically knocked me off my bike, visions of an older angrier Liz on a bus, telling her younger self about things that haven't happened yet.

The road up to Frasier Woods wasn’t the easiest to navigate, with many twists and turns, I needed to concentrate on getting us to our destination in one piece, besides the fact that I couldn’t give Parker the satisfaction of crashing and therefore proving all her statistics and worries. There was more to life than facts. I didn’t know why the fates picked the two of us to be the world’s saviors, but like I had said before, I was pretty sure everyone was royally screwed.

“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..."

Okay, that was the other comment that worried me. If our future selves could only talk in half riddles around us, they must be thinking that we should be able to put two and two together and figure it out. I mean, we were not idiots, hell, Parker here was practically a genius or something. So, basically, we had to remember that there were only four other people in this world that have proven to be trustworthy into the future.

Max. Isabel. Maria. Alex.

Which meant, we needed to put up our guard around anyone else.

I sighed as I pulled my motorcycle into one of the empty parking spaces at the entrance to Frasier Woods. Moments ticked by as I patiently waited for Liz to get off the bike first, so I could follow, but she remained frozen against my back.

I turned slightly and peered into the tinted face shield of my motorcycle helmet. “Uh Liz?”

“Yeah?’

“Are you going to get off the bike sometime today?”

“I think we left my legs back at the Crashdown, along with my sanity."

I gritted my teeth and counted to ten. “Okay. Do you think they’ll be catching up with us anytime soon? I don’t have all day.”

Suddenly the helmet flew off and I was staring at a pair of furious brown eyes. “Those flashes almost made us a statistic!” Liz shoved away from my back as she jumped off my bike. “Next time we walk.”

Women. I didn’t think I’d ever understand them. Maybe next time my older self decided to torment me, I’d ask him to give me some insight into Parker’s mind, he seemed to get along with the older version. “Come on Parker, you know you had fun.”

Quickly knocking the kickstand into place, I had to hurry to catch up with Liz, who was currently stomping off into the woods. It only took me a few strides to catch up with her, at least there was one advantage to having long legs.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

She shot me a sidelong glance and shook her head, “Not here, Michael. Let’s wait until I can sit down and take some notes.”

“Notes? This isn’t school!”

Liz sighed, “Michael, they’ve been giving us clues, probably a lot of clues... We need to write them all down so they could make sense. In fact, I’ll probably try to recreate a whole timeline so we can...”

I was mildly impressed. Liz had really been thinking things through. Maybe the world wasn’t fucked after all.

“…I was thinking we could set up the dreams through flow charts so we could follow the sequences…”

Flow charts? Then again…


 

* * * * *

I paused in my writing to flex the tendons in my hand. A surreptitious glance at my watch revealed that it was almost one, which would explain both the cramp in my hand and the fact that my bottom had fallen asleep some time ago. I shifted on the stump that was acting as my seat trying to regain some feeling. Michael continued pacing back and forth in front of me, hands clasped behind his back, brow wrinkled, little spring daisies cradling his Docs every time he marched through the patch. Meadows just weren’t meant to be war rooms. I wondered if I should mention the damage he was doing to the delicate forest ecosystem. I shook my head and smiled, he probably wouldn’t care and it wasn’t a good enough revenge for denying me my beloved flow charts.

“...Parker! Parker! Are you even listening to me?” I blinked, and focused in on his narrowed eyes. Apparently I had spaced for the moment, so sue me, I hadn’t gotten any sleep in thirty some-odd hours, and I had been doing all the writing, dammit.

“I was pausing to rest my hand, Michael,” I sighed, I couldn’t get mad at him, it wasn’t his fault. But still… “If you don’t want there to be a break in the rhythm then you can take notes and I’ll pace because I’ve got a cramp right now.”

“Oh.” He frowned and shifted uncomfortably. What did he think I had been doing? Slacking off? “I could probably do something about that.”

I thrust out my hand immediately, at this point I didn’t care if he accidentally blew it off, I had lost most of the mobility in my fingers anyway. Cautiously he moved forward to press his fingers to my palm, and within nanoseconds warm tingles were spreading through my skin. “Thanks Michael.”

He rolled his shoulders. “No problem Parker, anything else?”

“Well, you see, there is this one more thing…” All I could say in my defense was the devil made me do it. I lowered my voice so he had to lean forward to hear me. “My butt’s gone completely numb, think you can work your magic on that?”

“Cute Parker,” he growled.

“I always thought so. Haven’t heard any complaints so far.” The devil and no sleep. That was my story and I was sticking to it. “Listen if you won’t heal it, then I get a break and you get to take notes.”

He glared, “My handwriting sucks.”

I wrinkled my nose and flexed my hand. “You’re an artist, I’m sure it’s very…artistic.”

He folded his arms across his chest.

I wriggled a bit on the stump. Initiating puppy dog eyes now…

“Dammit Liz!” He threw his hands up in disgust. I won. I pushed to my feet, tossing the notebook at him as I moved passed, gait stilted. You never knew how important the muscles back there were until they were asleep.


 

* * * * *

Squinting, I read over the notes that Liz and I had complied from our dreams. Liz had separated the notebook into different categories: People, Events, Statements, Miscellaneous.

In the People category, we listed everyone that had played a part in our collective dreams or in the weirdness surround them. People like Serena Winston, Kal Langley, bowling man with glasses, woman being mugged, mugger outside the Crashdown.

"You know, I could probably try to sketch out these people, so maybe we can have Valenti do some research on them." I pointed out to Liz. "I mean, we know what Kal Langely looks like, we don't have any clue as to who Serena is, but the bowling man, the lady who was mugged and the mugger all could be living in Roswell right now."

"Good idea." She looked at me with a half smile on her lips as she watched me squirm uncomfortably on the tree stump.

"Yeah, very funny Parker," I told her as I looked over the notebook again. Under the Events section, we had complied a small list: Crashdown Mugging, Possible Future Deaths, Future in Ruins.

Liz had connected Possible Future Deaths with man in bowling alley. Wait a second, I vaguely remember that in her first dream, her future self had mentioned that Alex had died and Tess was exposed. Holy fuck, it all makes some sense now. Alex! Alex, was the first close friend that I had lost. Liz didn't write it down, however. Strange. Did Liz remember that part of her dream, or had she just buried it because it had hit too close to home?

I flicked a glance over to Liz, who was staring forlornly off into the distance. Her brown hair contrasted with the bright greens and yellows of the woods and while I watched her, I wondered what she was thinking. Was she worrying about saving the world, did she worry that it seemed like her and Maxwell hated each other in the future, did she regret ever becoming part of our crazy alien lives? The future Liz didn't seem happy in her situation… maybe Liz could get out of this mess now and she wouldn't have to suffer in her future. She had a way out, I didn't.

"Hey Liz?" I stood up and walked over to where she was standing, in a patch of crushed daises. "Uh, I was wondering why you didn't add Alex's name to this list." I pointed to the Future Possible Deaths column.

Liz looked at me with her brown eyes wide. "Alex doesn't die. He has to run the Granolith, Michael."

Huh? Run the Granolith? Where did she get that from? "Liz, what are you talking about? Why would he be running the Granolith?"

“To come back, Max said…” she trialed off then.

"…he was a fool…"

Her eyes widened suddenly, but she made a controlled attempt to shrug. "Don't worry about it, Michael." She murmured and turned back to staring out into the woods.

I couldn’t help it, she was leaving me out of the look, and all I could see in my mind was that strange image of Maxwell with long hair and a leather jacket.

I sighed as I flipped to the last section. Statements. Liz had written in all the important things her older self had told her in the past two dreams. Things from how she was blind in this part of her life, sifting through strands of time, how bowling man was the second close friend I had lost, nightmares that weren't nightmares… I noticed that she had conveniently left out that she had already met a possible version of Max’s older self.

I knew that Liz was leaving something out here. But I couldn't just ask her about it, like I did the last time, she'd just shut down on me and I'd still be in the dark. Gotta think strategically, Guerin, gotta work around the problem and then strike.

Hah, she'll never know what hit her. I was a General in my past life after all.

I closed the notebook with a click and looked over to Liz. "That's really well done, Parker." I nodded my head as Liz eyed me warily. "I mean, I never would have thought about cataloging all our experiences like that."

"Thanks." She looked at the notebook in my hands and then up at me. "Do you think we need to add anything else?"

"Well, you did mention in the last section that you wanted to conduct experiments as to how we get the flashes since right now there's really no rhyme or reason why we get them." I shrugged. "I think we should do it."

Liz's eyes lit up briefly. "Really? I thought for sure you would just say, 'Fuck that Parker,' we don't need to do any experiments."

I shook my head. "Nah. We gotta do what we gotta do." I suppressed the urge to just come right out and ask. Liz needed to do this on her own. "Of course, we gotta realize there’s a possibility we’ll get other flashes?”

“Other flashes?” She was frowning at me again, worrying her bottom lip. “What do you mean?”

“Well, flashes involve breaking down walls, and we might see memories and other dreams, not just the ones we’re looking for.” There Liz, I handed the opportunity to you on a silver platter.

“Oh.” She rung her hands for a moment, contemplating the broken stems of the flowers beneath her feet. “Okay then…”

When she trailed off, I resisted yelling at her to hurry up. There couldn’t be any secrets between us if we did these experiments, she had to realize that. Liz was a smart girl. Still I couldn’t help prompting, “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay, there’s something I have to tell you, but you have to promise not to tell Max…”


 

* * * * *

La Quinta Inn - Morro Bay, California – 2009

Liz and Ava sat on one of the queen sized beds within the hotel room, legs crossed, facing each other. Ava looked almost the same, the purple streaks had disappeared but for one that skated along the side of her face, and the lip ring was gone. The hunched shoulders and lack of confidence caused by living a life overshadowed by Lonnie and the others had straightened, only to have fallen further in her grief. And she did grieve, Liz could see the choked sobs behind her eyes. “’Rena was like this…this enigma, ya know? She was all inta math and science and shit, bu’ it didn’t blind ‘er. She saw it all ‘cept for Lonnie comin’.”

She fiddled with her earrings, spinning the two little hoops in her left lobe as she stared down at an ornate little ring in her hand. Liz didn’t rush her. “’Rena tried to save my life once. I’ma gettin’ ready to blast this guy tryin’ to mug me, or worse, an’ here comes ‘Rena. Yo, she jus’ grabbed his thumb, tha’s it. Ben’it clear back to tha wrist, an’ jes’ starts lecturin’ at him. I’m thinkin’ I should run, but he’s swipin’ at her with his knife, an’ she kinda reminded me of you, it’d only been two months since I’d left your place, soma that cornball rubbed off. Sos I help’er, warped the motha fucka inta believin’ we was two hundred pounds each an’ he jus takes off.

So we standin’ there, an’ the little cornball doesn’t even blink, jus’ turns to me an’ says, ‘Can you teach me to do that?’ An’ I’m thinkin’ Cali is as fuckin’ whacked as they say, ‘cause she shoulda been runnin’ right along wit’em, but instead she’s jus’ waitin’ for me to answer’er question. Sos I tell’er she gots to be an alien to do it, an’ she jus’ fuckin’ shrugs her shoulders an’ says ‘I always knew we weren’t alone’ an’ then jus’ walks away! I goes chasin’ after’er an’ the next thing I know, we’s havin’ coffee an’ I’ma goin’ home ta meet her folks. Cornballs adopted me, didn’t even care I wasn’t like’em, an’ in the end, ‘Rena died ‘cause of me. She neva shoulda come down that alley. Fuckin’ mind’er own business.” Ava’s jaw clenched down, but the strength of the flex was not enough to drive away the tears, and one escaped only as far as her cheek before she scrubbed it away.

“Why didn’t the warp work on Serena?” She didn’t want to ask, it was obvious that the other girl needed the solace of silence, but Liz had to know.

“’Rena was wired diff’rent, up heh.” Ava tapped her temple lightly. “Tryin’ ta get inta her head, was like breakin’ inta Fort Knox, fuckin’ impossible. She let me in once, an’ it was like one’a those equations she was always workin’ on. Theorems. Lil’ puzzle pieces provin’ the next lil’ puzzle pieces. She shoulda seen Lonnie comin’, she shoulda known.”

“Why didn’t she?” Liz was completely intrigued, the little blurb she had heard on the news hadn’t done her genius justice.

“I don’ know. She shoulda known, she was always lookin’ for the bad pieces, an’ she knew Lonnie was whacked, I told’er.” The lines on her face deepened. “An’ she let’er in anyway. Do you know wha’ Lonnie did to’er? She took’er time. I hadta identify the body, an’ when I close my eyes all I can see is’er hands. She loved’er hands, said they were the instruments that completed’er. Her nails were gone, ripped away, an’ the doc, he said’er bones were shattered. Lonnie did that before she fried’er.”

“Jesus.”

The blonde shrugged, “He ain’t got nothin’ ta do with it. Whas up wit’ you an’ Max?”

Liz’s head spun at the abrupt change in the conversation. “Uh…what do you mean?”

“Yo, when I left you two was on the road to recovery. You had tha’ connection Zan an’ me was missin’. I could see it. Now, ain’t even there no more, not even a shadow. I even gotta a shadow with Zan an’ he’s dead. So what’d the bastard do?”

“The bastard? Why-why are you assuming that he did something?” God, she was confused. Liz understood that Ava was trying to distance herself from the memories of Serena’s death, but she certainly hadn’t expected her to take this tact.

“Listen, I loved Zan, still love Zan, but there was times when he’d get all high an’ mighty an’ I just wanted to knock his fuckin’ crown off. There was bettah ways for’im to deal with the whole Summit thing that Lonnie and Rath wanted ta go ta, but he jus told’em no figurin’ his word was law. I was always hopin’ it was one of those fuckin’ stages they was always goin’ off about on TV, nevah found out though. Sos I’m assumin’ it wasn’t a stage, ‘cause you got that dog loyalty goin’ on. For tha connection to be gone he musta fuckin’ kicked ya one too many times.”

“Sometimes you just need to be kicked really hard once, you don’t feel it much after that.” Now she was the one fighting back the memories. God, she didn’t want to go there. The deep breath she sucked in stuttered and halted in her chest as Ava laid an oddly gentle hand on her knee.

“Musta been some kick.” She patted with an awkward lightness before jumping off the bed, and slipping into the bathroom. “I gots to hit the ladies, be back.”

Liz barely registered the sound of the door slamming, her eyes and attention fiercely focused on the twining orange and red pattern of the discount quilt on the bed. It seemed to dance under her concentration. She hadn’t thought about her parents in so long, pushed their deaths and the accompanying events into a little box in her mind, a box she locked tight. Had Lonnie tortured them like she had tortured Serena and Laurie who they had found strung out across the mansion she had loved. God, she hoped not, had always deluded herself into believing that the Skin’s had started the fire that consumed the Crashdown while her parents were asleep, that they had gone quietly from smoke inhalation. She didn’t want to believe that they had died screaming. It was all her fault anyway, their fault, for being in Canada when it happened, for believing that their families were safe. Instead they had been used as a tool, a tool to drawl them back into the United States and back into the constant running.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop.” Her head wrenched to the side to find Michael standing in the doorway of the room. “It’s not your fault.”

He moved across the expanse of rust carpet to sit on the bed next to her, automatically threading his fingers through her hair to find the knots of tension bunching on her skull. “We should have known Michael.”

“How, Liz? How would we have know? And if we had, there would have been no guarantee that we would have arrived in time.” He moved closer until he was supporting most of her weight against his side. “You’re the scientist Liz, you know that there are too many variables.”

“They were my parents Michael, I should have known.” She truly didn’t know if she was repeating Max’s words or if she had adopted them as her own. Maybe he had only given voice to what she had known. She was so tired of hearing them at all. Tired of it all.

Michael pressed her head into the hollow of his shoulder. He could feel the weariness running through her. He could feel it even though he knew she tried to hide it from him. She was pushing herself too hard and her body couldn’t contain everything she was trying to house within it. It was escaping, violent little lashes that flickered into this mind, and Liz was supposed to be the strong one, had always been the strong one.

He brushed his lips against her hair, wishing he could untangle the knots inside her with the same ease he rubbed away the ones in her muscles. He feared that the astral projection was only making the situation worse, using up the last of her stores of energy. “Liz…”

His voice faded off because he couldn’t find the words, could never find the right ones that would make her understand. The soft rise of her chest indicated that this time the words weren’t necessary, his hands accomplishing what his voice could not, relieving the tension just enough that she had drifted off, her slow steady breathing her only response. He stared down at her tight features, they never relaxed anymore in sleep, almost like she was remaining tensed against the next blow, the next dream. “I love you.”

His voice was more breath than sound, stirring the strands of soft coffee hair. A rustle alerted him to Ava’s presence, the blonde clutching a rather ragged looking stuffed cat in her arms. He tried to assure himself that she couldn’t possibly heard, but the look in her eyes stopped him. “So that’s wha it’s supposeda look like.”

“What are you talking about?” His whisper was harsh with the need to not wake Liz.

She smiled sadly, and moved forward to cradle the stuffed animal in Liz’s lap. Her eyes caught on some point between him and the girl he held. “I nevah realized how pure it could be. Zan an’ me nevah even came close.”

She situated the cat to her liking, “She gave this ta me, ya know? All those years ago. This kitty survived the streets, an’ the upper middle class. Attempted world domination ain’t got nothin’ on the middle class.”

She laughed sadly at her bizarre joke as she turned and headed for the door. “Ava, what the fuck—”

“Zan an’ me nevah even came close, an’ what her an Max had, it’sa pale thing next to that glow,” she murmured again, cutting him off. “You eva’ break that, an’ you’ll break her.”