The Monte Carlo Hotel, Las Vegas 2001

I've laid here in my bed for five hours now, staring at the white stucco ceiling of the master bedroom in our penthouse suite, trying to calm myself down about my newest dream. I never used to dream when I was living with Hank, partly because I didn't get to sleep much because I was too worried about him beating the shit out of me on a regular basis. Unfortunately, since I'd become an emancipated minor, these dreams had become more and more frequent. But I'd never had a dream like this.


I mean, I had lots of dreams that were just dreams, some of them with me just sitting around in the Crashdown, another with me eating dinner at a bowling alley with a bunch of guys I've never met, and then... Well, there was this freaky one with me standing above an unmarked grave just rubbing my jaw over and over. Don't get me wrong, I had been having strange dreams lately... but none of them ever featured an older version of me and certainly none of them ever came true before. So, why should I start to worry now?

"All I gotta say is this is your only warning before some seriously nasty shit goes down."

Every time I convinced myself that a dream was just a dream, his warning came back to echo in my mind, bitter, tired. It had gotten so bad that I couldn't go back to sleep, so bad that I couldn't focus on anything else, and so bad that I now had a fucking migraine at 10 o'clock in the morning. I pulled myself up to a sitting position in my bed, leaning back against the headboard angrily. Jesus. What the fuck happened in the future that would be so fucking bad that I had to visit my dreams and warn myself?

No, damn it! It was just a crazy, fucked up dream.

Taking a deep breath, I shot a quick glance at my surroundings in an effort to relax. Last night, when we had finally arrived in town, I had staked my claim on the master bedroom inside the penthouse suite. Considering the surreal quality of the dream, I was glad that I did because I didn't want anyone to overhear anything that they didn't need to know anyway.

Look, everybody's got problems. If it wasn't this, it'd be another thing. I was a big boy. I could handle it. Last thing I needed was someone trying to butt in on my problems.

The penthouse suite that Maria had reserved sounded reasonably quiet beyond my bedroom door; apparently everyone was worn out from the night before, the Las Vegas excitement being too much for eight kids from Roswell, New Mexico. I had the fifty grand from the Dupree's and I couldn't wait to get rid of all of it. This goddamned money that the Dupree's gave me has been nothing but bad, fucking luck. This money has been giving me bad karma, bad thoughts and probably was the reason that I had that crazy-ass dream about myself. I mean, there's no way that my dream was serious. And fuck me -- Buddha Boy is apparently leeching away my brain cells with all his Buddhist preaching's. I think I'm losing my mind.

An older version of myself, coming back across time to warn myself in my dreams?


Yeah, right. I would have to be completely crazy to have even seriously considered that my dream was some type of message.

Not just you, Mikey boy. If you stop running, everyone will die.

Angrily I picked up my pillow and flung it violently across the bedroom at the sound of his voice in my head again.

"Geez, Spaceboy. Hello to you too." Maria's voice rang out as she watched the pillow bounce off the far wall next to the door. Giving me a pointed once over to check for any more projectiles before slipping inside. "I always knew that you¡¦d be a grumpy first thing in the morning, but I never thought you'd be that violent. Anyway, I'm glad that you're finally up. Everyone else is ready to head down and go to the brunch buffet."

I started to tell Maria that I needed a second to get dressed and take a shower, but the voice chose that moment to slip back into my mind. "You'll find out, what it's like to really have a woman love you, and vice versa." If Maria isn't the woman who really loves me in the future, then who would it be? I mean, Maria and I fight more than anything else, but seriously, she's the only potential person I can think of... Yet another sign that I'm totally fucked.

"Fuck, I can't take this anymore," I muttered as I attempted to push all thoughts of my crazy dream out of my head for the moment.

Maria shot me a pointed look. "Listen, pally. You put me in charge for this vacation because no one can spend money like I can spend money. I've got our entire trip planned out."

Holy shit, was she taking fucking Vacation Nazi notes from Isabel or something? I shook my head as I tuned Maria's rambling out for a moment. I pulled out a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt and dragged myself to my bathroom to change so Maria would shut up. Unfortunately, she was still talking as I returned from the bathroom.

"...I know that you can wave your hands, or whatever you Czechoslovakians do, to clean yourself quickly so that we can head down to the buffet. Because, heaven help me Michael, if you smell bad..."

I sighed. "Knock it off. I'm ready to go."

Maria looked at me, apparently considering my choice of clothes for the day and then reached out and grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room. "If makes you feel any better, Spaceboy, I just had to drag Liz out of bed too." She mentioned as we walked across the Penthouse suite to where everyone else was gathered by the TV.

"I'm sure that Parker must have spent a wild night of partying to be so tired." I commented to Maria dryly.

"Shut up, Michael. If you ever took a moment to notice, you'd realize that Liz is a really great person," Maria snapped at me as she dropped my arm.

"Hey, I know that Liz has gotten us out of a lot of jams in the past, but hell, there are times when you barely notice that she's around, Maria. The girl does her best to fade into the woodwork lately."

"Michael, you've never even tried to get to know her, so I don't understand how you can always talk shit about her!" Maria told me.

"Whatever," I shrugged. I didn't bring the rest our homely group to Las Vegas to spend time with me. Shit, I didn't even invite them. I had two objectives for this weekend - to blow fifty grand at the casino and to maybe spend time with Maxwell. To put it bluntly, our friendship has sucked a big one lately and I needed to spend some time with him.

I sighed and wearily ran one hand through my hair as I looked at everyone gathered on the couch around the TV. Kyle and Alex were both engrossed with the TV- apparently the Discovery Channel was playing "When Animals Attack 15 - Attacks on State Parks" episode that I had seen a million times at home, thanks to my crazy-ass dreams waking me up at 3am. Max was trying to ignore Tess' air headed babbling while she tried to deep-throat a sucker to impress him. Isabel was too busy changing her nail polish colors with her powers and Liz was sitting there silently, apparently captivated by "When Animals Attack" as well. Oh yeah, this was the exact crowd I wanted to bring to Las Vegas to have a wild time.

...or else, nothing will be the same.

My hands clenched into fists at the sound of his voice from my dream. I couldn't function in Las Vegas with this haunting money, I had to go and spend it. Now. "Let's get going Maria." I growled to down to her.

"God, Spaceboy, we're just about to leave. If I didn't drag you out of bed, you'd still..."

"Maria." I glared at her as she glared back and then she tossed her hair over her shoulder angrily. "Okay guys!" She called out as she walked to the front door of the penthouse suite. "Let's get going, or else we'll miss the Brunch Buffet downstairs." She opened the door and pointed down the hallway. "The elevator is right over there."

"Really, Maria? That's an elevator?" Kyle asked with an amused grin on his face as we all trooped down the hallway, like some herd. I smirked at his comment. I guess I wasn't the only one that had noticed Maria's sudden foray into Nazism. "Hey, does this remind anyone of that scene out of Speed, you know the one where--¨


"Shut it, Buddah Boy," Maria snapped at Kyle as the elevator doors opened with a loud bing.

I dragged myself into the elevator and leaned against the back wall as everyone else piled inside. I noticed that Liz and Max were standing in front of me in the center of the elevator. Liz looked like she wanted to tell Max something. Fucking wonderful. Didn't I tell that girl, no moralizing, rationalizing or anything like that on this trip? Why can't this girl partake in fun and debauchery?

Tess apparently had noticed this as well, because she started to push everyone out of her way so she could be closer to Max. As she squeezed in between Max and Liz she seemed to duck down a little and lean in. In hockey, it would have been a body check, and Tess seemed to be well practiced at the move. Was that a little elbow action in there? Liz stumbled back from the blow, reaching out and grabbing my arm for balance. As her hand locked around my forearm, our eyes met.

And that's when all fucking hell broke loose.


 

* * * * *

Something was tickling my nose. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had woken up at five am from that dream after going to bed far later than usual last night because we arrived in town at midnight, and then spent the next half an hour rationalizing it, now something was tickling my nose. Sure, it was probably a sign just like my bizarre mental wanderings that I should get my butt up and go talk to Max, but was it too much to ask for a few more minutes of sleep? I mean look how much time I had to spend decoding with Freud, it was enough to make anyone brain dead.

At first the weird manifestation of my unconscious mind had me freaked out a little. I mean, what was I talking about: Alex dead, Tess exposed of God knows what, and a glimpse into the Guerin psyche...Not in my lifetime, nor Maria's either for that matter. Obviously there had to be a deeper meaning.

Every scientist knew that you had to break down a problem into its simplest components to find an answer. Take the dress I was wearing for example, as Isabel would tell anyone who went shopping with her that red was the color of passion, and guns and lipstick were obviously phallic symbols from the Freudian perspective. All of this could be alluding to sex, sex I did not have. Besides, did I not mention Freud in my dream, a psychological hint to be sure.

Plus there was that mysterious older version of me telling me that I had done wrong. Blend that all together with a dash of sleep deprivation from having the trip over to Vegas double in length from four hours to eight hours, and I get a dream telling me I was wrong to break up with Max and that there should have been another option. Hell, Maria had been telling me that for weeks. Maybe my subconscious didn't get the memo.


It was clear that I had to tell him, had to explain what had really happened if for nothing else then to repair the state of our friendship...if we ever had one. I was going to do it too, today, after I got some more sleep. It wouldn't do to have me yawn in the middle of my big confession. So with that heavy subject nicely shelved and compartmentalized and a mental note to strangle Maria if I ever heard the words "take the scenic route" come out of her mouth again, I put myself back to bed to catch some much needed hours of unconsciousness. Only now, something was tickling my nose.

"The subject is not responding to treatment Dr. Frankenstein, what should we do," a giggly voice off to my right asked.

"Ve have vays of making her vake." The more masculine tones broke into evil maniacal laughter and the tickling returned. Maybe my dream had been right in one aspect, Alex was definitely not going to leave this hotel room alive.

"Alexander Charles Whitman, if you don't stop right now I'm going to show those pictures of "Alice" to Isabel," I growled pulling the blanket up over my head.

"That's okay," he replied ripping the covers away with the help of his fiendish assistant Maria the Traitor. "Not like I have much pride left with that girl anyway. I did strip for her."

"And you had very good...um...rhythm," Maria responded, her hesitation would have been noticeable to the average deaf person. I saw Alex shoot her an evil glare, before squeezing my eyes shut. That was right, deflect, divide and conquer, then the gruesome twosome couldn't torture me. My politics teacher would have been so proud.

"At least I don't spasm," Alex replied in a haughty tone while he tried to pry my eyelids back open. Damn, obviously not distracted enough.

"I do not spasm! You take that back." Ah, hell now they were dragging me into a sitting position and bickering. Why did I come along on this vacation? Oh yeah, so I could relax, and talk to Max. What one had to do with the other I was not sure...

"Enough already. I'm awake." Grumbling I pushed them away and got up on my own.

"Works every time," Alex murmured giving Maria a high five.

"I think we set a new record." Screw it, they were both going to die. Death by down pillows. I could see the headlines now. I would of course plead temporary insanity, although if I had a tape of these I might be able to pull off self defense. I grabbed my pillow and came up swinging.


"Ack! Enemy fire, abandon ship, or hotel, or whatever, just run," Alex yelled heading towards the doorway. Maria ducked my follow up swat and threw something in my face. "Here, clothes from the gift store. Such gratitude for the friend that bought you Versace. Now hurry up, we've got a brunch to go to and I still have to wake up Space Boy."

With me thoroughly distracted by the little pile of clothes now lying at my feet, she slipped away.

"Next time, Gadget, next time," I yelled after her. I could hear her laughing as she made her way towards Michael's room, and they thought I was a hard person to wake up. To be a fly on the wall in there. I could just see it now, Maria going in there and Michael waking up all heavy eyes and crazy hair...whoa, where did that little image come from. Keeping everything from Max was obviously more psychologically damaging than I had thought.

I snatched up the red tank and Capri pants and headed into the bathroom. A one hundred and fifty dollar Versace top, I shook my head, in some far eastern sweatshop children working twenty hours a day were probably cursing my name. I looked down at the wrinkled condition of the clothes I had slept in, and immediately exchanged them for the new items. I guess some morals did not put up much of a fight when one was sleep deprived. I looked at the mirror and for a moment I saw myself wearing a deep burgundy dress, not the red far-too-expensive top I had just put on. I shook my head and the image disappeared. Alright already, I would talk to Max! At the rate I was going Harvard might not accept me, but a mental ward would.

I walked into the living room to find everyone sprawled about various pieces of furniture. Immediately my gaze landed on Max, but Tess seemed to be trying to talk to him, and I really was not in the mood to try and break in. Although how Tess could talk and give oral pleasure to that lollipop, I did not know, but I made a mental note to never have a sucker again. Besides, it wasn't like I didn't have the whole weekend to talk to Max, another opportunity would happen. I just needed to get him alone.

Sighing, I turned away the man of my dreams and his queen. Since Isabel appeared to be in high Ice Queen mode, I plopped down on the arm of the couch next to Alex and Kyle. Frowning, I noticed they had their heads slightly cocked to one side, their attention rapt on the TV screen. Mimicking them I followed their line of vision, "Hey, what are you watchin¡--"

Oh dear God, did I just see...

"When Animal¡¦s Attack," Alex murmured. I could just imagine that the expression on his face mirrored mine. I don' think my eyes could open any wider. I smashed my mouth closed, whether it was to prevent flies from getting in or simply to halt the possibility of puking I really couldn't say. Oh no, that Grizzly did not just--


"Fifteen, When Animals Attack Fifteen: Attacks in State Parks," Kyle interjected. I couldn't say what disgusted me more, what was happening on the TV screen or that he had just "snapped into a SlimJim" while watching this carnage. I was going to be scarred for life.

"It's like watching a train crash," Alex murmured again, clearly as hypnotized by the horror we were watching as I was. "Only the train has teeth, and claws."

"And fur," I interjected.

"Please tell me that wasn't his intestinal track."

"Number Eight, Man's Best Friend, really was the best," Kyle announced after swallowing a big hunk of the stringy red meat byproduct. "Very Kujo."

I managed to tear my eyes completely away from the mauling taking place before us and glare at my onetime boyfriend. "Remind me again why we ever dated."

"Because you wanted my body, Parker," Kyle grinned around the jerky. I decided to add him to my hit list as well. I really needed to find a good place to hide the bodies; Harvard did not accept applications from convicted felons.

"Okay guys!" Maria called out as she headed to the door bringing a halt to my murderous planning. Michael was following along behind her looking grim. Hell, he always looked grim, grumpy or just plain "grr" if that was a reasonable adjective. "Let's get going, or else we'll miss the Brunch Buffet downstairs."

I noticed Max trying to separate himself from Tess by walking quickly to the elevator. This was my chance. I slid inside the opulent metal compartment to stand next to him pointedly ignoring Kyle's comment about whether or not being packed in reminded anyone of that scene in "Speed," I had enough to worry about without wondering whether or not the elevator was going to explode. Max cast me a puzzled expression as I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut again. No, I could do this. It was simple. All I had to do was take a deep breath in and then say, "Dear god..."

I didn't even see it coming, but Tess' pointed little elbow drove into my stomach throwing me off balance. I threw my hand out, desperately trying to catch onto something to keep me upright. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Michael and before I knew it, I could feel the skin of his bare arm under my hand. I looked up to say thanks, or sorry, or whatever was appropriate, but the words were lost as pictures flashed before my eyes, and words filled my ears...

Men chasing Michael down the hall...SWAT Team members...no wait that wasn't right...the FBI? Scared, running, pain, can't stop.


Michael talking to an older man, an older version of himself...The danger is still there, gotta keep going, keep running, where are Max and Isabel?

"If you stop running, everyone will die."

"...One fucking minute that might save your life and the life of the woman you love."

"Mom-Fucker guy? She'll teach you about him... him and so much more, Michael."

"All I gotta say is this is your only warning before some seriously nasty shit goes down."

Michael suddenly not standing in the hallway so clearly the school's, but in front of a grave. The letters were small, hard to make out. It looked like it said...

"You know if you two are just going to stare at each other like that and NOT leave the elevator... Well, you might as well go back up to the bedroom and get it out of your systems, because of the rest of us want to go have some other types of fun." Tess' voice jarred its way into my brain. I was too confused to add her to the hit list. What the hell just happened?


 

* * * * *

The pictures flashed before me, a sickening continuous loop.

A dark haired woman dressed in a blood red dress, carefully applying lipstick in front of a mirror while Liz watched in shock.

"We didn't know. How could we have possibly known?"

Maxwell with long hair and a leather jacket.

"...REM and the psychology of the subconscious while he would have just told you to fuck off."

"...It is a small comfort to know that if I die, at least I¡¦ll have the satisfaction of paging Dr. Freud and telling him sometimes a gun is just a gun."

The woman throws Liz the lipstick. "Funeral-pyre Red. You'll find it will be very appropriate in the future."

"You know if you two are just going to stare at each other like that and NOT leave the elevator... Well, you might as well go back up to the bedroom and get it out of your systems, because of the rest of us want to go have some other types of fun." Tess' bitchy voice suddenly wormed its way into my brain and the connection between Liz and I severed.

"Hey, Tess why don't you go back to sucking off that candy and mind your own business," I muttered to her as my mind was preoccupied with the flashes from Liz.

Tess turned up her nose at me. "Sure, whatever you say." She turned her back to us and tried again to engage Maxwell in a conversation as they exited the elevator.

I looked back over to Liz, who was sharing a meaningful look with Maria. "I hope she chokes on that stupid sucker," My currently ex-girlfriend murmured.

Liz smirked, "Death by oral fixation, Freud would be so proud."

"What did you just say?" I almost reached out and grabbed Liz's arm at the mention of that familiar name, just stopping myself in the nick of time.

Liz looked up to me, confused, her eyes seemed to be searching for something. "I said that Freud would be proud," she repeated slowly. "You know, Sigmund Freud... He was a pioneer in the study of the Psychology of dreams..."

Dreams. Freud. Holy Shit.

I walked out of the elevator in a daze.

"Michael?" Maria pulled on one of my shirt sleeves. "Are you okay?"

No, Maria. I was definitely far from okay. But, I couldn't force any words out at the moment and chose to push my way past Tess and Max, driving a nice elbow in her side on the way down the hall.

What the fuck was happening? My mind was spinning as I tried not to sprint down the hallway, away from Liz Parker, the guy named Freud and the apparent fact that maybe my dreams weren't all bullshit like I believed.

You can keep thinking that, or you could listen to me for one fucking minute.


 

* * * * *

"I hope she chokes on that stupid sucker."

"Death by oral fixation, Freud would be so proud." Up until this point I didn't realize that one could be sarcastic on autopilot. This discovery didn't exactly fill me with joy since I was the person on autopilot, but hopefully it got filed away somewhere to be examined again later. Always the scientist, that's me, of course that scientist was currently trying to discover what the hell was going on. I did not get flashes from Michael. It would be a scientific anomaly because I only get flashes from kissing Max, not from just touching Michael. Notice how I cleverly avoided the fact that flashes themselves were scientific anomalies. Cleopatra had better get out of my way because I was Elizabeth Parker, true Queen of Denial.

I would like to claim that my quick, if weak, mental thinking had saved me from agonizing over whatever the hell had just happened, but I was actually feeling especially hypersensitive. I nearly jumped out of my skin when it looked like Michael was going to reach out and grab me. Hallucinations or not, I was not quite up for another dizzying tour of what could be the Guerin subconscious. I barely held back my sigh of relief when he halted his fingers inches from my arm.

"What did you just say?" The way he was frowning at me, you'd think I had threatened his life. It took me a moment to realize it was my turn to respond. Truthfully I was used to people who spoke more than one short sentence at a time. I could do it though, answer without staring moronically up into his eyes trying to figure out what was going on. Just needed to concentrate on what was truly important. Freud. "I said that Freud would be proud. You know, Sigmund Freud...He was a pioneer in the study of the Psychology of dreams..."

That was when Michael got all twitchy and for some reason his response made me zero back in on to what I had felt and seen when we had touched. There had been fear and exhaustion blurring the visions somewhat, but I was pretty damn sure he'd been thinking about...

"I just don't understand that boy sometimes," Maria huffed, and it was then that I noticed Michael was making really good time in putting some distance between us. What had set him off? Maybe Maria would know, they could be having problems. "I thought things were going better since taking Laurie back to Arizona."

"Yeah well, I thought so too. Everything was going as great as it ever did with us right up until we left Arizona when suddenly Spaceboy reverts to his old, charming self again..."

Go me! It was official that I could carry on a conversation with Maria and quietly go insane at the same time. I should put that on my Harvard application, "Can multitask." Besides after years of listening to it, her babbling was rather soothing.

"...Not that I miss his attitude. The good doc would have a field day with all that boys hang-ups..."

The good doc?

Mom-Fucker guy? She'll teach you about him...him and so much more, Michael.

Oh God. Oedipus Rex. Oedipal theory. That mom-fucker guy. Freud. No wonder Michael couldn't wait to book it away from us. I had seen inside his head...and he knew it! Why hadn't I arrived at this conclusion earlier? I decided to blame excessive travel time and little sleep. Still if I was getting flashes from him...and we were both having dreams about older versions of ourselves...and both dreams warned of danger. It was suddenly clear that my nicely sewn up dream analysis earlier was a load of crap. I needed to find Michael and find out what was going on. I needed to find Michael like five seconds ago.

"Hey, where are you going? Why does everyone keep running off? It's like I have the plague." I heard Maria call out after me as I headed down the hall in the same direction Michael had taken. I was already rounding the corner when I realized I hadn't said goodbye. Well hell, chalk it up as more craziness caused by Czechoslovakians. My talk with Max could wait.


 

* * * * *

Outside the Twinkling Palms Motel, California, 2009

The sound of crunching gravel echoed through the air as Liz and Michael solemnly walked up the beaten van that they had called their home for the past seven years. Liz sighed as she approached the door, rubbing one hand over the bridge her nose in worry as her eyes slid shut briefly. Upon a silent, mutual agreement they had stopped all physical contact between them before coming into view of the van, but God, she could use the comfort of Michael's touch right then. The muscles he had coaxed into releasing only minutes ago, knotted once again. This was not going to be pretty. They had nothing to report and Max would want to know what had taken them so long.

"You okay, Liz?" Michael murmured his hand that had been reaching for the door handle faltering.

She turned and faced the man that she had considered her best friend for the last seven years of hell. His well worn boots and motorcycle jacket were both from a Nevada Landing outlet store, bought in a rare relaxing moment where they weren't being chased by the Skins or the FBI. Michael was the very embodiment of the group's protector and as of the last couple of years, her protector. Her protector and the only other person that could understand the talent that now caused her so much pain and guilt. Liz felt him reach out with his mind, wondering if she was okay. Michael's simple gesture made her smile briefly, Michael had changed so much from their years on the run, that he, not Max, was the one who knew just how to make her feel safe. He had come so far since the boy who used to run from his problems...

Liz sighed again. It was so tempting to just start running though, but...

They couldn't. They had responsibilities... to the world, to their friends...

They had responsibilities to Max Evans. One as a King, the other as a husband. Besides, there was no where to run to anymore...

"I know," Michael told her quietly. "Let's just make it through one thing at a time." Liz nodded imperceptibility and he reached forward once again to open the van door, pulling it open with a small tug. It was their third van in the last seven years. It was still relatively new, but she didn't like it. Something about the three rows of seats constantly haunted her, the empty seatbelts reminding that now they didn't even have enough people to fill them. She knew that Michael felt her hesitation, but the silent urging of his hands as helped her inside reminded her once again that this wasn't the time.

"Well?" Max asked quietly. He sat in the very back row, alone, but his hard stare wasn't missed by either Liz or Michael. "Status?"

"Plan A didn't work out so well, Max," Liz started off gently as she sat down in the middle row of van seats and looked at her husband.

"Why?"

Liz bit her lower lip before answering. God, it was so hard to say aloud, to admit that they had failed. "I couldn't talk to Kyle because it seems like the Skins have set up some sort of mental shield surrounding his mind. I couldn't contact him without alerting the Skins to our current location."

"This means, you don¡¦t have any idea where he is." Max replied icily.

Before Max could start in on their failures thus far, Michael swiftly interrupted. "I'm positive that if Liz attempted contact with Kyle or the Sheriff, we would have been caught. I could feel Lonnie lurking on the edge of my mind, searching for clues to our location, Maxwell." He took a deep breath. "Liz made the right decision."

Max's eyes flickered between the two sitting in front of him while he internally debated their actions. He nodded and then settled down in his seat, already deep in thought.

Liz stared at Max for a long second and then turned away from him, her anger and guilt too great. Max had continued to make it painfully clear that it was Liz's fault that the Skins had captured Kyle and the Sheriff six months ago, all because of a miscalculation of Michael and her visions. It was the reason that she had convinced Michael not to explain about contacting their younger selves, not yet, not until it was completely necessary because all of their other options had failed.

"Liz?" Max's voice quietly penetrated her thoughts. "I'm sorry. It's just losing Kyle and the Sheriff, I swore that after we lost Maria, we'd never lose another member of our group."

Michael felt Liz flinch slightly next to him at the emotion she heard in her husband's voice, it happened so rarely these days. But Jesus, couldn't Maxwell see that Liz already felt if was her fault that Kyle and the Sheriff had been captured after one of their visions had been slightly wrong without adding the additional ache the memories of Maria's death would bring. He himself had tried to explain to her that it was no one's fault; it was not like there was a fucking science to what they were practicing. He had told her a million times that there was nothing anyone could do, but she couldn't seem to get past the fact that she had let Kyle and the Sheriff down. Sometimes he worried that she had the added burden of what he was feeling too. He had been the one to make the final decision on whether the two would do recon.

Liz closed her eyes and sighed, the loss her best friend and the blame for her mistakes too great to bear at times. She tried conjure memories from earlier happier times, to fool herself into believing things would get better, but she feared the reassuring smile she tried to send her husband appeared more like a grimace. "I know, Max. I understand how hard it is for you."

Michael resisted the urge to shake his King over the van seats. How could he not see what he was doing to the woman he professed to love? Max was so caught up in making the right decision he didn't even notice he had added to the responsibility she already felt.

Fuck, he blamed himself on a daily basis, but he needed to be strong for Liz. He needed to be strong for someone, because he sure as hell couldn't carry on for just himself anymore. The situation had been weighing down on them all for so long, that all of them had reached their own personal breaking points.

Which made what he had to tell Max all the harder to say. Michael took a deep breath and plunged in with both feet. "Maxwell."

"Yes, Michael." Max replied in a cold, flat tone that had become his norm.

"We couldn't find Serena either."

"What!?" Max yelled as he fairly leapt from his seat. Michael tried remain calm. "I thought that you had told me that you and Liz were so close to finding her."

"No, Maxwell. What I told you is that Liz and I are going to try to find her." Michael leaned forward towards Max. "We don't know where she could be, what she looks like, or even how fucking old she is! We're doing the best that we can and you're just going to have to accept it." Michael matched Max's glare until Max collapsed back into his van seat as defeated as they all felt from the blow.

"Max, we'll come up with something." Liz told him as Michael settled back down next to her, his body weight comforting against hers. He briefly placed his large hand over hers, unseen by Max, as an apology for his actions. He knew she didn't need the stress of them fighting.

Liz smiled for a moment, And Maria used to complain that he was oblivious...At least something in this mess has changed for the better.

The euphoria of Liz's moment was ruined by a panicked Isabel suddenly throwing open the driver's side door and jumping in the van. Her starkly pale face reflecting in the window as she turned the key to start the van without even bothering to close the door.

"Uh, guys? Let's just say that Plan C didn't work and it's time to get the hell out of Dodge." She gasped as she quickly threw the van into reverse and slammed her foot down on the gas petal. The momentum of flying out of the parking spot full speed slammed the door shut, the explosion of metal against metal echoing loudly.