Whenever all of this started, I never imagined we’d be where we are now. I honestly don’t know if I had any expectations at all. There are days when I think that if we could go back in time, with knowledge of the consequences of our choices, I think we all would have just stayed away from one another. But then there are other days, when I know that we all would forsake everything in this world to bring each other happiness. So I think the truth is that love knows no bounds—and true love endures all things.

* * *

Michael dropped off Isabel and Liz at work and then went to work himself. The coffee shop was swamped, so they were glad to have him early. He set to work making cinnamon buns and thought about Maria, as he always did when he made pastries. Sweet and spicy—just like her—just like them together. A man who looked oddly like Dylan Thomas sat at a table not far from the shop and watched him make the bread. Michael felt his eyes boring into him, intent on his every movement. Michael breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left.

Time, in its very increments, can move at the speed of light, and alternately, at a snail’s pace. As Liz finished her shift and clocked out, she gave a cold look to the other employees in the shop and left. Her shift had slugged along, and now she couldn’t wait to get home and cook a nice big meal and sit down with Michael and Isabel and watch old episodes of the X-Files on the Sci-Fi channel. It was Isabel’s favorite. Liz had never liked coming home to an empty house—even when she lived in It’s-so-boring-here-in-“Nothing-ever-happens-Roswell,” Liz never liked the invasive silence and creepy shadows of an empty house. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been alone in the apartment without Michael or Isabel or both of them.

Liz felt strange, like something was off. It was like waking up in the middle of the night when the electricity went off during spring storms. Liz had always been afraid of the dark, and when it was so pitch black that she couldn’t see three inches in front of her face, and the heat of the night suffocated her, she used to go crazy. She felt that same suffocation as she moved through the apartment, checking the doors and windows, and in the empty rooms and closets. She started some bath water, but didn’t feel completely comfortable taking off her clothes and getting into a tub of water while feeling so defenseless.

She skipped the bath oils and powders she usually used and hurried as she bathed. A few minutes later, she wrapped a robe around herself, and wrapped her towel around her head in a turban. She opened a bag of Fritos and munched them casually as she dried her hair. She tied a ribbon around her head like a headband and went to the bedroom to get dressed. She chose a pair of cotton bike shorts and a large box-neck t-shirt. As she moved into the living room, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as someone knocked on the door.

Liz answered it with fear in her heart. “Hey, Liz…I forgot my key,” Isabel brushed past her and moved past the kitchen into Michael’s bedroom. Somehow satisfied, she turned around and looked Liz over.

“Well, I was going to get my book and read, but if you want to watch TV, I wouldn’t say no,” Liz finally said, entering the bedroom she shared with Isabel and searched for her book.

Isabel came to stand in the doorway, almost menacingly, Liz thought. Liz found her book and stopped short when the flesh on her arm rose. It had just occurred to her that Isabel didn’t need a key. When Isabel got locked out, she simply opened the door. She looked up at Isabel slowly, and Isabel saw her fear in her eyes. Isabel stuck her hand out in the air in front of her and slowly, the room around her began to glow and the door slammed. The air hummed and objects around her shook as Isabel’s face melted and suddenly, Max Evans was standing in front of her. His black eyes taunted her, and from behind him, Nasedo revealed a large knife.

“TV?” he taunted.

* * *

Michael came through the door and whistled. “Bethie!” he barked her name when no one answered his call. Michael quickly made his way through the living room and was starting down the other end of the hall when he heard a strangled cry from the bedroom. Liz managed to grasp the doorframe and crawl over the threshold.

“Beth, what have you…” Michael had no more gotten these words out, and taken two steps in the direction toward her when a large, masculine body filled the doorway and hovered above her.

“Max?” Michael asked, shocked.

“Michael,” the voice, victorious. A hand went out and a hot, blue light filled the hallway, causing the doors to fling themselves open and slam shut again, as if possessed. Nasedo stood before him with his true face—red eyes in a black face. Liz had been steadily crawling towards his feet, and Michael looked up at Nasedo. The knife he held in his hand glistened red with the hot blood of her heart and drops were peppering the floor in a grotesque pattern.

Liz clutched for him, and Michael could see she’d been slashed across the belly mercilessly. He pushed open the bathroom door and shoved her inside, never taking his eyes off of Nasedo.

“Lock the door,” he instructed. “I’ll keep it locked.” He turned back to the alien standing before him.

“Nasedo.” Michael backed into the kitchen and chose a knife from the same open drawer. Nasedo dropped his with a clatter as Michael edged forward with his in hand. Michael lunged, but Nasedo stepped back quickly. “Would you kill your own father?”

“I always wondered if you were a killer. I guess now I know, huh?” Michael lunged again and this time was successful. But the wound on Nasedo’s arm quickly closed itself.

“I saw your lover, son. She foamed with fear. Do you really want to be like her? Human?” Nasedo asked with hatred.

“What have you done to her?”

“I killed her,” he smiled. His teeth were white, the same shade as the hair that fell in waves around his face.

“Why would you kill the only one on this Earth that I love?” he asked, tears threatening to overwhelm him. He strapped his emotions into place. His first priority was to defeat Nasedo. Grief must come later.

“How could you love them? Humans?”

“What can I say? They’re family,” he retorted.

“I am your family!” Nasedo corrected, angry. “I am your father.”

“Why would you want to kill the people I love?” Michael asked again, staying alert, moving like a boxer. Nasedo didn’t answer as he watched his on move through the kitchen, agile as a cat.

“I can take you home,” he finally said.

“Is everyone there like you?”

“We are all the same,” he answered.

“Then why would I want to go back? Everything I need is here.”

“This is your destiny. I have come to take you home. I am your father.” As Nasedo finished this declaration, Liz cried out in unbearable pain and Michael felt in an intense flash the pain she was enduring.

“Well, I guess I’m your killer,” with one last swing, Michael buried his knife in Nasedo’s chest. Nasedo fell to the ground, in agony, but did not remove the knife. Michael reached for the carving knife and cleanly separated Nasedo’s head from his body, not knowing whether it would kill him or simply slow him down.

From the bathroom, he heard another mewling cry. He leapt over the body on the kitchen floor and yanked the bathroom door open in a kick of adrenaline. Liz lay on the floor in the fetal position. She’d taken off her shirt to reveal the slash across her belly. The child inside her was gone, and Liz was slipping fast.

Michael knelt before her, and placed his hand on either side of the wound that still gushed blood. Light emanated from his fingertips as he looked down at Liz and felt his emotional intensity coming to a head. He thought of his family—the only true thing he’d ever known—and the air around him started to crackle with electricity and energy and started to glow.

Michael pressed his hands down into her belly, turning her skin a murky blue. He turned all of his concentration towards her—all of his emotions inward—inward towards her and he felt himself exploding inside. He was seeing flashes of Liz Parker he never knew existed, and it made him dizzy and threatened to break his concentration.

Liz gasped and locked eyes with him, knowing her life was being restored. Slowly her skin stretched and reconnected, and the fire in her belly was unbearable. If the knife wound didn’t kill her—surely this new torture would.

Liz screamed in agony as the blood cells in her body began to multiply in hyperspeed, overwhelming her circulatory system. She could see and feel her heart beating in Michael’s chest as he healed the damage to her body. Michael could feel himself slipping, but Liz’s life depended on him—depended on him being able to do one thing right in his whole life.

He could feel the muscles in his abdomen contracting and straining as the final inch of skin was closed. Liz cried out in pain as Michael was thrown across the room and slammed against the bathroom cabinet. Liz lay gasping and panting for breath. She looked up at Michael; his body cold and still.

“Michael?” she cried desperately, her voice cracking. Her muscles screamed as she began to move towards him. She crawled to him and put her hands on his face. He opened his eyes slowly.

“I’m just resting.”

* * *

Maria sat in her rocking chair, as was customary before breakfast and after dinner. Since Max had left for Louisiana, she and Kyle had heard nothing. Maria was worried, as evidenced by the fact that she was rocking so fast that she was making herself sick. She’d put a candle in the window, as she always did when either Max or Kyle was coming home late for any reason. Kyle was lying on the couch, with Maria’s kitten on his chest, feeling playful.

“Are you ready to go to bed?” he finally asked with a tired sigh.

“In a minute…go on up if you want to. I’ll stay down here with my kitty,” she smiled up at him as he rose and came to her chair. He placed a small kiss on the top of her head.

“I don’t think Ben is coming home tonight,” he sighed.

“But you do think he’s coming home, right? I mean, you don’t think he’s…do you?” Maria asked softly, her eyes full of fear.

“I think he’ll be home any day now. He did tell you before he’d be back for Thanksgiving, and tomorrow is Wednesday. I don’t think Ben would break his promise unless he had a good reason,” Kyle smoothed her hair and placed the kitten in her lap. It pranced around over her blanket-covered legs and finally settled on one knee, clawing her without mercy.

Maria yelped and spanked the kitten’s paws. Satisfied that the kitten looked remorseful, she turned back up to Kyle. “How will we even know it’s really Ben, though?” Maria asked, pained. “I mean, we have no idea what Nasedo even knows about us. What if he answers all the questions correctly and we just let a killer into the house?”

“We have the password,” Kyle pointed out.

“Oh, “Roswell”…yeah, that’s real creative…” Maria retorted, rolling her eyes. “What I mean is, I don’t want to have to use passwords for the rest of my life, just to know I’m safe, when the truth is, we have no idea if we’re safe or not.”

Kyle could tell Maria was on the verge of hysteria, and so he placed a solid hand on her back.

“Ellen,” he said firmly.

“I’m sorry,” she ducked her head. She looked back up at him and he took her hand and she squeezed it. “I know…we’re gonna be fine.” Maria listened as Kyle ascended the stairs slowly, creaking in all the predictable places and cursing when he stubbed his toe. Maria looked to the window, where her reflection was fogged because of the fire in the hearth that had burned down to smoldering embers. Beyond the glass, the navy night sky was embroidered with white sparkling stars. Maria heard the doorbell and she started from what she could only assess as a doze. It rang three times fast and she heard Kyle up, and pounding down the stairs with his gun. Of all the things to bring from Roswell, New Mexico… Now she was grateful he had. She heard a whispered exchange, and finally the door creaked open. Maria and Kyle had decided after Max left that when he came back, they would not only ask for the password, but a few verification questions before they just let him in. Things only the six of them knew. Maria actually felt safe when she heard the door shut again and heavy footsteps making their way to her chair.

“Well, Ben, you missed Jackson’s league playoff game, but they made it into the semi-finals, so he’ll probably forgive you,” Maria said, amused. When she got no answer, she cocked her head slightly. “Ben?”

A more familiar voice answered her. “Hey, Red.”

“Who’s asking?” Maria asked coyly, lighting up as she responded.

“Major Tom,” he retorted playfully.

“Does that mean you’re coming home?” Maria played along.

“Home is where ever you are,” Michael said sincerely, uncharacteristically. He regained his composure quickly. “I mean, all of you—you, and Max and…”

“I know what you mean,” Maria cut him off, standing up and turning to face him.

“Listen, Red…”

“That’s Blondie to you, Mister.”

“I like it red,” he admitted, sitting on the couch.

“Where is Ben? And Beth, and Bella?” Maria asked slowly.

“They’re coming. Tomorrow maybe—they were leaving right after me,” Michael answered. She realized her was looking at her expectantly. “Well, come on. I’ve waited forever to have you in my lap again.”

“Well, how do I know it’s really you?” Maria flirted.

“Ask me anything,” Michael answered finally, his voice husky.

Maria thought a moment, then turned towards him, “What would my name be if I had been a boy?”

“Mark,” Michael replied, intrigued by her odd choice of a question.

“And what am I going to name my first born child?”

“Neil Payton,” he answered, shifting on the couch as she stood, pushing a very disgruntled cat off of her lap.

“How desperately do you want to make love to me right now?”

Michael glared… “If you don’t get over here…”

“That was a freebie,” she cut him off, raising an eyebrows she stood over him. He grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, murmuring her ‘I love you’s.’

She saw in hot flashes everything that was Michael: Isabel and Max…a strange home where he sat with Isabel and Liz, and his long-dead father. She saw a flash of Nasedo in his true form, and it scared her terribly, but Michael pulled her closer as if to reassure her that it was okay. She saw Michael kneel before Liz and heal her, putting all the love he had for the other five into healing her best friend. She saw him thumbing through a tattered copy of Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and thinking of her. She gasped for breath and he pulled her back for more. The flashes turned carnal and blatantly sexual as she saw flashes of him standing in the shower masturbating, whispering her name. She saw visions of them making love and trembling.

She finally pushed away and pressed her forehead against him, needing oxygen.

“I love you Maria,” he murmured.

“The name’s Ellen,” she raised an eyebrow, then she sobered. “What happened, Michael?”

“I killed him. I killed my father. Nasedo,” Michael answered softly.

“Michael,” she whispered back.

“I came home and stopped him from killing Liz, but then he told me he had killed you and I just lost it, baby.”

“He did come here, Michael. But he didn’t hurt us—he came here with your face,” Maria replied with wide eyes.

“Maria?” was Michael’s tortured whisper.

“I’m okay, Michael…I mean, I knew it wasn’t you. He wasn’t anything like you. I mean, Kyle knew it too... We knew it wasn’t you—I mean, besides the fact that we *knew* it wasn’t you, he um…he didn’t have this little mole right here,” she flirted, touching the little dot of skin between his eyebrows.

“He didn’t?” Michael flirted back, after a moment’s hesitation. He gently took her hand and led her into the bedroom adjacent to the living room. She locked the door and then turned around into his arms. They devoured one another ravenously, tugging at clothing and battling with their tongues.

“Maria…” Michael groaned softly. “I want this to last.” Maria’s hand found his zipper and was eagerly pushing his pants down as his hand found her nipples under her t-shirt.

“Michael, make love to me, please,” Maria begged. “Hurry.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed, breathlessly, his plea forgotten as need overwhelmed him.

“I’ve waited so long to be close to you,” Maria admitted as he lifted her shirt to reveal an emerald silk demi-bra. She sighed in pleasure as Michael licked at her partially exposed breast.

Michael stopped his ministrations as this revelation registered in his brain, and backed up. “This isn’t about sex for you, is it? This is about being close.”

“No,” Maria gave a weak protest and tried to pull him back, but he held fast.

“Maria, we can just hold one another…we don’t have to…”

“No,” she said firmly, “I’ll die if you don’t make love to me now,” her voice cracked, “I want to…come with you.”

Michael took her to the bed and pushed her down gently, taking her into his arms. She arched off of the bed against his naked chest. Michael snapped open her bra and shifted her pajama pants down off of her legs, slowly. He pressed his hard arousal into the crotch of her matching underwear and she moaned lustily.

Michael rid her of her underwear and pressed himself into her again. She gasped as he rubbed against her, and finally entered her. Maria ached in pain that was almost pleasurable. She groaned and winced and Michael withdrew.

“What’s wrong?” his voice was low, concerned.

“You haven’t been there in a while,” Maria winced again, and urged Michael to continue. He sank down on top of her and let her get comfortable before he started to move. He felt her nails dig into his back as he held her chest to his, pumping in and out of her body. He took her hands in his own and entwined fingers with her as he pounded into her. Maria’s moans and gasps were coming at regular intervals, and when she arched beneath him, Michael knew she was close. “Come for me, baby,” he whispered shamelessly, and Maria let loose a throaty cry of pleasure and collapsed onto the bed. Michael exploded within her and emitted a groan of his own as he rolled next to her and pulled her close to his body.

“I love you,” he murmured into her hair, and he felt wet tears on his chest. Maria put her head in her arms and rested against his chest.

“I’m so happy,” Maria sighed when she realized he was concerned. Michael watched, surprised, as she continued to cry. He just held her close and whispered to her sweetly until she calmed enough to go to sleep.

* * *

It was a Monday when my lover told me
Never fear the reaper with love only
What could I say to you except I love you?
And I’d give my life for yours--
I know we are, we are the lucky ones…
I know we, we are the lucky ones, dear

* * *

Isabel enters my dreams sometimes—thankfully, not the erotic ones, but she tells me she has to see me. She tells me Liz is weak and depressed—that other people make fun of her and make her cry. I couldn’t believe that Liz Parker—Roswell’s sweetheart, would be disliked by anyone but me. Because I used to hate Liz Parker—and Max, and Isabel and Michael and I didn’t understand what Max Evans had that was so damn special.

But ever since Max Evans saved me—saved me like he saved Liz, I understand everything she must have been feeling. And I’ve been thinking about Isabel lately—now more than ever. When I was shot, she begged Max for my life—proof that she loved me, in at least a small way. So now that we’re all coming together—coming home-- I think it’s time to start anew with everyone—Liz, Max, Michael, everyone. Isabel.

* * *

Kyle sat at the breakfast table with a bowl of cereal and the sports section of the morning paper, dressed in loose-fitting jeans and polo shirt. Maria hadn’t roused from her room yet, but Michael was sitting across from him enjoying his cereal laced with Tabasco sauce.

“Hey, Michael,” Kyle began, shooting him a quizzical look. Michael didn’t even look up from the comics as he answered.

“We all like things sweet and spicy. We don’t know why.”

Kyle, satisfied, moved to put his bowl in the sink when he heard the doorbell ring.

“It must be the others,” Michael assessed, looking up at the clock. “Man, they must have really caught a red-eye flight.” Michael went to the door and Kyle heard them in the foyer, talking softly. He hoped Michael thought to question them.

Isabel entered the kitchen, laughing. “And I thought Max was tough—Michael, you’re like the Gestapo,” she turned and stopped short when she saw Kyle. She blushed furiously.

“Hey, Isabel,” Kyle nodded. Isabel looked up at him, almost shyly, Kyle thought, and smiled.

“I, uh, like the outfit,” Isabel noted.

“Yeah—I thought the cowboy look would have been a little too conspicuous for Boston, Massachusetts,” Kyle said with his characteristic drawl.

“Wise choice,” Isabel sat down at the kitchen table.

“We have a lot to talk about, Isabel,” Kyle finally said.

“I know,” Isabel sighed. Max and Liz entered the kitchen, hanging on one another.

“Kyle!” Liz’s voice hit her high pitch, and she came to him and hugged him quickly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Kyle nodded to her as she escaped from the kitchen to find Maria.

Michael, Max and Isabel gathered around the kitchen table.

“I think we need a summit meeting,” Max finally offered, sitting down.

“Ben!” Maria called loudly from her bedroom. “Max!” she corrected, yelling again. All four rushed into Maria’s room, and Max, who was in the lead, stopped short upon seeing they were okay, causing the other three to trip and stumble behind him. It was almost something out of a silly cartoon. Maria was sitting Indian-style in her bedclothes, holding onto Liz’s elbow possessively as she pointed to the TV screen.

Max snapped his fingers, increasing the volume of the television so everyone in the room could hear.

“The official report from the President’s office this morning confirmed the attorney general’s assessment that Colonel Craig Wilder is still missing. His second in command, John Starks, is taking the office today at noon.”

A handsome man flashed onto the screen. “I am regretful of Colonel Wilder’s deteriorated mental condition, and I am certain that is why he is missing now. I have no intention of following the exhausted leads that we have been investigating in the office of Head Colonel. Instead, we’ll be focusing on more generalized social domestic problems that we feel requires the involvement of peace-keeping military troops, such as the international drug trade…”

Liz turned the television off and looked up at the three siblings with some interest.

“What do you think it means?” Maria asked softly.

“I think it means we’re safe,” Michael asserted, looking to Max.

“It’s very good news,” Isabel said hopefully, looking from Max to Kyle back to Max again.

“I think we need to be careful,” Max finally interjected. “But I agree. I think we are safe.” Liz came to Max and wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling his kiss on her brow.

“I’m ready to go home,” Isabel admitted. “I want to see Mom and Dad.”

“Me, too,” Liz added.

“Me, too,” Maria tacked on.

Max looked from Michael to Isabel to Liz. “Let’s go home, then.”