**

"Hurry up. We have to leave in ten minutes."

Isabel vanishes as quickly and as silently as she came, and I roll over onto my stomach. I'd never thought I'd say this, but I miss my alarm clock at home. Its incessant chirping beep is friendlier than Isabel is.

I get out of bed and stare blearily at the door. I'm going home. Today. I try a quick "Yay" but it comes out all funny and I get dressed quickly so I don't have to think.

I didn't sleep very well. Last night, I'd spent most of the evening sitting with Isabel and looking at Michael. Home. That's what I wanted to think about, but all I did was remember everything he and I have said to each other, everything we've done. I wanted to memorize his face because I am sure I won't ever see him again.

He wouldn't look at me. I told myself that feeling hurt was ridiculous, and felt hurt anyway. Isabel finally noticed me looking at him and took me to the room that's been mine all this time. "We're leaving early," she told me. "Get some sleep."

I looked around the room for a while, looked out the window for a while, and then made a mental list of all the things I would do when I got home.

1. Take a long shower.
2. Make mom order pizza and eat most of it.
3. Watch tv till my eyes hurt.
4. Never go near an alien again.
5. Never think about who is out here in the desert.

Never think about Michael.

I got up and wandered to the door every time I got to the end of the list. I could open the door, I'd finally figured out how to do it. I could go find Michael and...do what?

I don't know if it's even possible for Michael and me to do what I was thinking about. I figure it is, but it's not like the subject has ever been discussed at school, in training, or god forbid, at home. For all I know, I'm the only human who's ever thought about it.

Then I would realize that maybe I am the only person who's even considered such a thing and I would walk away from the door and sit back down on my bed. I did this six times, and then I realized that Michael could have come to me - and that he hadn't. It took me a long time to fall asleep after that.

I woke up in the middle of night. I heard voices outside my room - which meant that whoever was talking was shouting. That couldn't possibly be good.

I got up and approached the door cautiously. I opened it enough so I could hear what was going on.

"Isabel?"

"Max! I didn't think I'd see..."

"Where have you been?"

"Roswell."

"What? Why?"

She sighed. "None of your business."

"Isabel...."

"Fine, Max. I stole some food. Are you happy now? You and Michael may have too much pride," (she sounded furious about this - but almost as if she was jealous, not angry) "but I'm not willing to starve, and I'm not above taking what I need. Sure, the Valentis made all sort of promises, but who knows what will happen after we take her back, Max? What makes you think that things will be better for us?"

"Something happened." Max sounded worried, really worried.

"What?" Isabel let out a little laugh. "Nothing happened."

"Something happened to you." I always wondered how Max ended up being the leader of whatever sort of clan thing the aliens had going, but hearing his voice at that moment explained a lot.

"Nothing happened."

"Don't lie to me Isabel." I heard the sounds of a scuffle, then a gasp. "There's blood on you, and it's not yours."

"Don't! I mean it Max, just let it go. Please."

There was a sigh, and then footsteps. I backed away from my door, only to let out a small shriek of surprise when it opened all the way and Isabel stepped inside.

I never even noticed if there was blood on her, to tell you the truth. What I noticed was that her hair was messed up. I've been here, out in the desert, for weeks now, and I've never seen Isabel look anything less than perfect. But her hair was messed up, and her eyes were wild, confused.

"When you get home," she hissed at me, "you tell your brother that if I ever see him again...." She trailed off and I just looked at her. I had no idea what to say. After a moment, she turned and stormed out of the room.

I thought about Kyle - hotheaded, 'I hate all aliens' Kyle - and wondered what the hell he'd done this time. It took my mind off Michael for a while, and I was grateful for that. But it still took me a long time to fall back to sleep.

**

I'm actually ready to go before Isabel comes back, and I decide to go find her. The sooner I find her, the sooner we can leave, and the sooner I am home. I open the door and head down the hallway.

The only way I know how to get outside is by going down to the very bottom of this big rock. I don't see anyone as I walk, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I can't handle being the object of scrutiny this morning. I walk down endless flights of stairs, which make me think of that Escher print you see everywhere, the one with all the stairs that don't seem to go anywhere.

I pause halfway down the last flight of stairs and look up. All I see is the gentle slope of the stairs as they spiral up to the top. I press my hand against the wall till the cold passes into my palm, and then I tell myself that I'm being stupid and sentimental and that I'm not really expecting Michael to come and find me.

I finally get to the bottom and start walking down the last hallway. It's much colder down here - I suppose because this area doesn't get much sunlight. I'm not even sure exactly what is down here - I was always distracted when I was with Michael, and Isabel isn't the type to offer to take you on a tour.

I can hear Isabel talking as I reach the end of the corridor. I stop and listen for her voice, and realize she's in a room at the very end of the hall. I go and stick my head in the room, open my mouth to speak..

And don't. Isabel is in the room with another alien, one I don't recognize and they are looking down at a table. "You're sure it's all ruined?" Isabel asks.

"Yes," the other alien tells her. "I just finished checking. We don't have anything."

Isabel picks something off of the table. From where I'm standing it looks like a tiny piece of black paper. She closes her fist around it, and her hand glows for a second. She opens her hand up, and looks down at her palm. "It didn't work."

"How could it?"

"I just don't understand how this happened. We worked so hard at getting all the seeds sorted and separated - Max even had people working on the irrigation system, just to make sure everything was ready - and you're telling me that he's known since..."

"The frost."

Isabel curses and throws the seed back down on the table. "I thought the frost just ruined some of them, that only some of the seeds froze and then rotted. That's what everyone was told. That's what *I* was told."

"That's what Max asked me to tell everyone. He doesn't want anyone to worry."

Isabel shakes her head. "Max and his damned god complex."

No wonder the aliens have all looked so worried. No only do they not have any food, it looks like they don't even have a way to grow more. Now I know why everyone looked even more worried after that frost. My foot slips a little on the stones, and Isabel looks up and spots me.

"I've got to go" she tells the alien, and I pull back and stand in the hallway.

She comes out and stares at me for a moment. "How long were you there?"

I look at the wall behind her head. "Not long."

She sighs. "It doesn't matter anyway. I suppose everyone in Roswell can guess what's going on based on what we asked for. Come on, we've got to go."

**

When we get outside, Max and Michael are already there, waiting in the Jeep. I didn't expect to see Michael - I figured that since he didn't say anything to me last night, didn't come to see me this morning, that yesterday was the closest thing to good-bye that he could give me. I guess I was wrong. I guess that a nice impersonal good-bye is more his style. I glare at Max because I'm afraid that if I look at Michael I will cry.

"Let's go," Max says, and Isabel gestures for me to get in the Jeep. I do, and I sit in the back, next to her. Michael hasn't said a word, hasn't even looked at me. I pretend I don't see him either, and ask, "Where are we going?" I know damn well where we're going, but I want to hear it said. I want to realize that it's the truth - I'm going home.

No one speaks for a moment, and then Max answers my question. "We're going to pick up two trucks that Valenti left on the outskirts of Roswell. We're going to get the trucks and leave, and you'll stay and wait for someone to come get you or you can walk into town. I know you probably thought your family would be there to meet you, but I didn't want to risk an ambush."

No apologies for kidnapping me, no "We really want to find ways to work together" - nothing like that at all. And that's how it will always be. I've somehow managed to avoid really seeing this till now. Humans will never trust aliens, and aliens will never trust humans. I've been a fool, imagining that things could be different, were different for Michael and me.

We drive back across the desert, and I watch the outline of Roswell come into view. The trucks are there, on the bluff where Michael and I drove to all those days ago. Two large convoy trucks, the kind the army uses to move troops. Isabel lets out a little gasp when they appear. "Max! It worked."

Max stops the Jeep and turns back to smile at her. "It did." They both get out and head towards the first truck. Michael looks back at me for a second, his expression unreadable, and then he gets out and heads towards Isabel and Max.

I sit in the Jeep for a second and then curiosity and anger get the better of me. What exactly is in those trucks that's so great? What is it that the aliens were willing to steal me away from my home for? What is it that Michael is willing to give me up for?

I hate myself. I hate myself for being stupid and angry and jealous over something that he needs to survive, I hate myself for even caring what he thinks, and mostly, I hate myself for being so stupid and so impulsive in the first place. How could I have thought what I had with Michael was just a series of moments, that it would not impact my life? Moments, my ass. Did I really think that I could do all the things I've done and never think about them all again?

I hop out of the Jeep and walk over to the second truck, swing myself up and into the back of it. My feet land in something wet and cold and I look down in surprise. There is water in the back of the truck, and it reaches up to around my knees.

There are bags stacked inside, the kind the government uses for supplies - enormous burlap sacks - there must be almost a hundred of them. The pile of them reaches up to around my knees also, and the water is all around them, has ruined them. Along the side of the truck are huge plastic drums. I reach down and touch whatever it is I'm standing in, a sick feeling in my stomach.

I hold my finger up to the sun, to the light that shines in through the back of the truck. Yes, I'm standing in water. I don't even need to look at the containers that line the sides of the truck, but I do anyway, just to make sure. The sides have been slit, and water leaks slowly from the incisions. All those containers held water, and they're almost empty now. I'm standing in what is left of their cargo.

I look down at the bags. The water has washed away most of the lettering, but I can make out some of the words. Seeds, neatly labeled. Wheat. Corn. Flour. Sugar. Everything the aliens needed, all ruined because of the water, something else that they needed, something else they don't have.

There's a note attached to one of the water containers at the far end of the truck. I walk over to it, hearing the faint sounds of the water lapping against the ruined bags as my legs slide through it. I pick the note up and open it.

The handwriting is instantly recognizable to me. I know it as well as my own.

*Send my daughter home*

My mother has written hundreds of letters to Washington, asking for funds to support alien/human peace initiatives. She has worked for years towards this one goal. She has supported Jim in every attempt he has ever made to improve relations between humans and aliens.

And she has turned her back on all of it because of me. Because she misses me, because she wants me home. She destroyed everything the aliens asked for out of fury and pain. She doesn't trust them anymore, doesn't care about working with them or making peace with them. I think of how I let Michael lie, how I was willing to stay with the aliens longer because I wanted more time with him, and I blink to fight back the sudden hot tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

"Give me that."

Michael is behind me now, and I turn to face him. He looks stricken. Of course he does, because he has realized what I have too. There are two people responsible for what has happened, and they are both right here in this truck.

There is a scream, a sudden, loud shriek of pain and fury, and I wince at the raw sound. Isabel. I hear a low murmur, and I can tell Max is trying to calm her down. The other truck is the same as this one, then.

"Give me the note, Maria."

I hand it to him mutely. He looks at what it says and closes his eyes briefly. Then he drops the note. It lands in the water; my mother's words are looking up at me. *Send my daughter home* The ink blurs, and the words fade.

I look up at him and he looks back at me steadily. "If Max finds out that your mother did this, he'll think that Valenti agreed to it."

'He didn't. I know he didn't, he would never...my mother is just upset.."

He reaches out and takes my hand, smoothing his fingers over it, forcing my fist to unclench. "Don't say anything about the note. It'll be ok."

"You really think so?"

As soon as I finish saying the words, my stomach twists suddenly, violently. It remembers before the rest of me does. Weeks ago, I had a conversation that echoed this one, and everything hadn't turned out ok, it hasn't turned out ok at all.

"Yes," he tells me, but his mind - oh, his mind tells a different story. It's thinking the same things mine is, is wondering the same things that I am.

He gets out of the truck and reaches back towards me, offering his hand. I take it, even though I don't need to, and let him pull me down. Isabel and Max are standing beside the Jeep. I should probably go over to them and try to find something soothing to say, something to save myself, if nothing else, but I don't move. I just stand there, feeling Michael's hand against mine. His skin is warm, and his touch is comforting. I suppose that's a big part of my problem - that I have been able to find comfort out here, in the desert. With Michael. With an alien. And even though I know that, even though I know that I am in some way responsible for what has happened - I still can't bring myself to let go of his hand.

"What are we going to do, Max?" Isabel is crying. "How are we going to tell everyone that not only are we almost out of food, we also lost our last chance to grow any more?"

Max rubs his eyes. "Let me think for a minute!" He rests his head in his hands for a moment, and then looks up. "Ok, what about this? I'll go and talk to Valenti. Tell him what happened. Tell him we'll send his daughter back, no questions asked."

"That's your plan?"

"What else do you suggest, Isabel? More demands? Do you see this?" he gestures at the trucks "Do you see how successful we've been so far?"

"We could kill her."

Max laughs. "Sure Isabel. If they won't give us food when we take Valenti's daughter, what do you think they'll do if we kill her? Send us flowers? Face it, we don't have a choice. If we take her back and explain what happened, we might - just might - have a chance at him offering to help us."

"Then take her back now. Now, right now."

"And what do we tell everyone else? Sorry, no food, but we took Valenti's daughter back. Hope you don't mind." He shakes his head. "No. Everyone has to agree to this. Everyone needs to see that this is our only option. There's so few of us left, Isabel. If we start fighting among ourselves - we won't have to worry about the humans, will we?"

She shakes her head, tears in her eyes. "I was so sure this would work."

"I was too, Is, I was too. But what we have to do now is try to salvage what we can. That's all we can do."

She nods. "I know. Let's just go and get this over with."

He reaches out and squeezes her hand. "It'll be ok."

She lets out a watery laugh. "Oh Max, how can you even say that?"

"I have to believe it's true."

They both seem to remember that Michael and I are there at the same time. As they look at us, I am suddenly aware of the way we are standing next to each other, I am suddenly aware of how my hand is still touching his.

His hand pulls away from mine and he walks over to Max and Isabel. They all talk for a moment, their voices pitched low enough so that I can't hear them.

And when we all get back in the Jeep and head back into the desert, when we leave the trucks behind, when Roswell fades into the distance - I look at Michael - and I'm not half as upset as I'm pretty sure I should be.

**

It's chaos when we get back. There are questions. "Why is she still here?" "Where's all the food we were supposed to get?" "What's going on?"

I have been unable, in my time here, to separate the aliens into individuals. For the most part, they appear as a sea of faces that turn away from mine, as eyes that look at me with scorn or fear or anger.

But I can see them now. There is a girl whose eyes are tired. An older man, who weeps when he sees that there is no food. A boy who looks at me with hatred. A mother, with a child in her arms, who weeps.

I watch as Max and Isabel circulate through the crowd, trying to speak to everyone. I watch as shock sweeps over the faces, I listen as their voices start to build.

I retreat to the edge of the crowd, and I look for Michael. In spite of it all, I want to be by his side.

And there he is, right beside me. He doesn't say anything, but neither do I. We just stand next to each other, and there is comfort in that.

The angry voices are building, and I watch as Max and Isabel are swallowed up in the crowd. "We should fight!" "We fought before, and we won! We got respect! Not this - not begging and pleading."

"And those of you that did fight - you never told us what really happened!" Isabel shouts. "We only heard rumors and half-truths. What sort of war was it that we fought? Is it something that we should be proud of? Is it something that makes us better than humans, or is something that makes us just as bad as they are?"

A few voices murmur in agreement, but there are still cries of "Fight! We have to fight! We can win - we did it before!"

"At what cost?" Max's voice is clear and strong, and I watch as space clears around him, as everyone turns to listen. "What did it cost us? How many of those that fought are left now? How many? Five, maybe ten? Sure, you fought the humans, and you won - but what did that victory cost us? The humans were terrified of us, wouldn't talk with us, much less trade with us." There's a murmur of voices, a rising chorus of agreement. Max continues to speak.

"And then the rest of us came - and we were only children. Who could work the fields? Who could make sure that we kept the irrigation system going? Who could make sure that we had a safe place to live? No one. Do you know what I remember about my first few years on earth? Hunger. I was always hungry. How many of us died in the five years after we 'won' our fight against the humans? What sort of victory was it?"

Michael turns to look at me, and his face is drawn, sad.

The history between humans and aliens can't be ignored. It is there, it lives and breathes every day, it colors everything we've done, everything we do.

Except for what Michael and I have found together. Those moments, as few and as brief as they've been - they have nothing to do with what we are and everything to do with who we are.

The other aliens are all agreeing with Max now. I see it in their faces, I hear it in their voices.

It's all over then. I am going to go home. This is an ending.

Michael's hand wraps around mine, and he turns to look at me. "You'll be leaving soon."

I nod. Yes, this is an ending.

He leans in towards me, and I feel myself moving towards him. Here, now - in spite of this ending, or maybe because of it - I just want one last moment.

And he wants it too. I can see it in his face, I can see it in his thoughts, which offer up images of the two of us together that would make me blush if I wasn't thinking the exact same thing.

Yes, this is an ending. But we can still have one last moment.

**

We walk down the hallways quickly. I am sure that what we are planning on doing must shine forth, our intent must be clear on our faces. But no one stops us. We pass by others - aliens whose faces I'm suddenly able to recognize, faces I will most likely never see again - and no one tries to stop us. No one even glances at us. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just an alien and a human.

Totally extraordinary, and no one wants to see it.

I think we will go to the room that has been mine for all this time. I have thought about it - I've lain in bed at night and wondered how we would fit together in it. But we end up in a different room, one I haven't been in before.

I start to ask him where we are, but I know as soon as I step inside. I see him everywhere - in the clothes that sit piled on the floor, in the lack of decoration on the walls, in the very air of the room itself. The door shuts behind us and I go into his arms willingly.

As with every other moment we've had, this one is hurried too. I wish I could slow time down enough to savor it all, to take it and store it all somewhere, to make a ribbon of memory that I could tie to myself and always carry. But there is not enough time; we've been living on what little time we've been given, what little time we could create.

I've had sex before. Living in Roswell - the constant tension that's in the air, the continual worries - it raises you to believe, in the back of your mind, that each day could be your last. I've thought I was in love before, I've thought that maybe I should seize the day and try to find enjoyment before.

This is different - not the act itself, but the part of me that I bring to it. Inside me, despite the world I live in, despite what I've seen, despite what I've lived through, is a girl who believes that maybe the world can be a safe place. That there is hope, that one day there could be a world that doesn't revolve around fear. And in this hope there is joy, and I've never been able to share that part of myself with another.

Until now. There is joy in touching him, in letting him touch me. There is joy in seeing each other, in the way our bodies fit together. And they do fit together - it doesn't matter that I am human and that he is alien. Here, now - it just matters that he is Michael and that I am Maria. There is joy in the fact that together, for just a while, we are able to forget the world we live in and hope together.

Afterwards, we lie there. His legs are tangled with mine; the sheets are twisted around us. Our minds wrapped around each other, our thoughts, finally, for once, totally at peace. I have waited my whole life for this - I have waited to know that the hope I have always carried isn't a cruel joke.

His lips are resting against my ear, and he murmurs my name. It sounds like a song, and I turn towards him, place my lips against his throat, listen to him as he murmurs things that make my skin prickle with delight.

Do I dare to let myself be happy? Do we dare to steal another moment?

Yes, I do. Yes, we do.

**

I fell asleep afterwards and I wake up as the sun is setting. Michael isn't there, and I get dressed, wander back to the room I've been staying in. I'm sure he'll come to see me. How could he not say good- bye to me now?

I wait. The sky darkens completely, and I watch the stars come out. I look out at them, not really thinking about them, just waiting. When the door opens and Michael comes in, I smile at him. How can I not?

He doesn't return my smile, doesn't come near me, and I feel my expression falter and fade. "Michael?"

"I thought..." he looks at me for a second, then looks out my window. "I thought that maybe things would work out. We would have gotten what we needed, you would have gone home, and Valenti would have known that we can be trusted. There'd be more deals, more chances to talk. I would have come to Roswell - would have walked down the streets and seen you. And you would smile at me, and it would be ok, people wouldn't wonder at that. But now.." he turns to look at me. "Now I know I was...I don't even know what I was thinking. Humans and aliens are never going to get along. I'm never going to be welcome in Roswell. You're never going to be welcome here. It was all just a big stupid mistake."

"And what happened earlier?" I'm going to cry. Please, no. I hoped - don't take that away from me. "That was a mistake too?"

His eyes move away from mine, focus on the wall beside my head. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"What do you want me to say, Maria? That it was the best thing that's ever happened to me, and that I'll never forget it? That the fact that you're human doesn't matter to me? Well guess what? It does matter that you're human and what you and I...it's the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I've done a lot of stupid things. If I could find a way to forget it, I would."

I've felt everything inside me stop before. I thought it was the worst feeling that a person could ever have -that horrible sensation of having everything suspended for a moment, the waiting for everything to seem real again. I was wrong. It isn't the worst feeling ever. The worst feeling in the world is having someone say something that makes you want everything to stop - and nothing happens.

I'm still standing. I'm still breathing, I can feel my chest rising and falling. If I listened closely, I'll bet that I could hear my heart beating, hear the faint echo of my blood pumping through my body. It's not fair, because I am sure that everything inside me is dead. But I keep on living anyway.

I sit down on the bed and look at the wall. Until I came here, I never really noticed that rocks have lots of different colors in them. I stare at the colors till they all run together, till my vision blurs. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands, and finally remember to blink.

"I'll be back in five minutes" he tells me.

"What?"

"I'm taking you home."

I don't say anything, and he finally leaves the room. I sit and listen to myself breathe, listen to myself live. This is the worst feeling a person can ever have - to live when you're pretty sure you're dead inside.

He comes back, and I stand up and walk out of the room with him. I walk outside with him. I get in the Jeep with him. Max is there, and he says something to Michael before we leave, and then he says something to me. I don't respond, and Max leaves after a moment, I watch him disappear back into the rocks. I look straight ahead after that, and I wait for Roswell to come into view.

**

And here I am. Right on the edge of town. He's stopped the Jeep and is looking at all the lights that shine out from the base.

"I want to tell you something," he says.

We haven't spoken to each other since he told me he would forget everything we've done if he could and that he was taking me home.

"No," I tell him. "No. It's too late, Michael, and I don't want to hear it. You were right." I laugh. "I can't believe I'm saying that, but it's true. You were right. It was all a mistake, and I'm glad I'm going back to Roswell and that I'll never see you again."

He grabs my hands, and I can feel him pushing his way into my mind, looking at my thoughts. I pull away from him angrily, but he holds on, his fingers wrapped around mine, his memories falling into me.

He's in Roswell, because Isabel and Max have decided on some stupid plan and they are supposed to be figuring out the Valenti family's schedule. He's supposed to go to the base and figure out what Kyle does every day from three till eight. He didn't want to go, but he didn't want Isabel or Max to go either. He's expendable. They aren't.

He walks down the street, making sure to stay in the shadows. He grits his teeth, and thinks about how much he hates the town, hates humans, hates having to be near any of it, any of them. And he hates himself for being such a liar. He doesn't hate humans - he fears them, he envies them. He passes by the Crashdown and looks in the window.

There's a girl there. She's laughing and talking. He knows who she is, he's seen her picture before - when her mother came out, full of grandiose plans and visions of a world he knows will never be - but the reality of her is even better than he thought it might be. He looks at her for a long time, because she is beautiful and happy, and he's never seen anyone like her. He looks at her till it's dark and he can't see her anymore. He goes back home and lies about what Kyle does, and Isabel and Max believe him.

The plan is set. Isabel assures them that she's safe, that she has everything under control, that all she needs is for Michael to come and make sure that Kyle shows up at the jail.

He doesn't, he can't. He goes and watches the girl again. He watches her till her brother comes down the street, till he remembers that he's supposed to be somewhere else.

And when she shows up, appears where she isn't supposed to be, he speaks to her because he has to. Just to hear her voice, just to stand near her for a second.

His hand falls away from mine.

"I love you," he finally says. "I hate you for it. You're human - you're everything I've ever been taught to fear and despise. But I look at you, and I can't see you as just a human. You're Maria. You make me happy. And I love you."

The lights in Roswell are so bright, and they are beckoning to me. All the safety, all the security, my entire world is there. It would just take a few steps, and I would be back there. I could be the Maria I've always been. It would be for the best if we forgot each other. It would be easier. It would be safer.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, and I am sorry - sorry that we have found happiness together, sorry that we have hurt each other, sorry that we love each other and that we are both unable to turn away from it. "I love you too."

And then I turn and walk towards Roswell.

**

It didn't take me long to get home. I will never forget the look on my mother's face when she opened the door - the wild joy that flashed across her eyes, the way she hugged me.

My first night back, even Kyle was nice. He gave me a hug and let me sit in the comfy chair - the one that sits in the corner of the living room, the one that he and I always fight over. He also asked me about Isabel, which made me remember the way she'd looked the last time I saw her, the way she'd asked me questions about him. I didn't say anything - I just looked at him. He got up and left the room abruptly. He hasn't asked me about her since, but I still worry just the same.

Liz came over the next day with Alex in tow. She brought me brownies, and Alex told me that he was willing to let me sing in his band. I laughed and hugged Alex, ate brownies with him and Liz. I was doing normal things, regular things. It was good, it felt good.

And Mom...Mom was so happy to see me, and I....I'd missed her. More than I thought possible. When I asked her about the trucks, asked her point-blank about what happened to them, she just smiled and told me "I'd do anything for you. Don't you know that Maria?"

I started to cry then, and she held me. I don't know who I was weeping for - myself, her, everyone in Roswell, the aliens, Michael - but I wept and it felt good. It didn't change anything, but I needed to do it.

Jim gave me a hug, and it didn't feel as awkward as I thought it would. He didn't say anything to me about what happened till after breakfast the next morning, when he asked me to help him dry the dishes.

"Are you all right?" was all he said and I almost told him. He was the only person brave enough to ask me anything close to "What happened?" Even Mom couldn't do it.

But in the end, I couldn't - I couldn't tell him. I couldn't break his heart, I couldn't destroy all he has worked for. He needs hope, he needs to believe that things will one day be resolved. He wants to believe in a future that shines forth, a paradise delivered, a world that is just human, a world where there is no conflict. The aliens are as complex and as flawed as we all are, and Jim already knows that. The rest of the knowledge -everything I've learned - is mine, my burden.

And now, at night, I sit here in the desert. I do this every night; I leave my room, my house, my world, and I wait on the hill that Michael and I sat on all those weeks ago, talking and pretending to wait for help, for answers.

I wait for Michael to come to me. And he does, and he swears that this is the last time he will come, that there is no future for us. I listen, I believe him, I take him into my arms and lift my mouth up towards his. He tells me he cannot live without me, and I don't think he is lying.

As I sit here, listening for his footfalls, waiting for him to say my name, I know that love is a complicated thing. It isn't something that can be neatly boxed into areas of right and wrong, of who you should love and who you shouldn't.