It was the phone call that had disturbed her so much. Max, from New York, had asked her if she would be willing to leave. To go Home. And not to the house in town she had spent every night in for 11 years. To some distant planet in another galaxy, some alien world torn by war.

And he had doubted her. Her loyalty, her love. She had been nothing but loyal to Max. She had been his sister even before they knew they really were, even in the old World. But there was that dark secret. That hideous name who's face was worn by two people now - her face, and the face of her dubious double.

Isabel. Lonnie. Velondra. Her beauty apparently unmatched on either world. One image shining, brilliant; the other dulled like the blade of a knife soaked too long in the warm blood of a life-wound.

The streets became a blur as she drove, lost in thought. Her anger and concusion and fear and shock mixed a dangerous cocktail as her surroundings dissappeared in a red-tinged wall of emotion. Finally she was forced to pull the Jeep over. Isabel had no idea where she was, but this never occurred to her as she had no thoughts at all but thoughts of her future. Her destiny.

So lost in thought was she that she didn't hear the voice that called softly to her until the hand belonging to that voice touched her shoulder. Isabel recoiled, surprised and afraid and brought her hand up to ward of an attacker, perhaps even to attack.

"Woh!" The voice called, louder now but still somehow calm. At first the voice was disembodies, formless save for the hand reaching out of the crimson haze. But slowly, as it continued to speak, it resolved itself into a familiar.

"Is, what are you doing out here? I heard a car pull up, and look out and it's you."

She breathed hard, collecting her self, which was never an easy proposition when faced with this presence, with that voice. "I was just out for a drive..."

"At midnight, yes ... "

"And I pulled over. I didn't even realize where I was." She was trembling now, her emotions burned away, leaving her chilled and afraid.

"You're shivering. Let's get you inside."

She was helped out of the Jeep, supported by shakey legs and deceptively strong arms. A door opened in front of her and she was led into a house. Three steps before she was positioned and deposited on a plush sofa.

She was asleep within seconds.

***

"Is she alright?"

"I don't know. She seemed out of it last night, so I brought her in. She was chilled."

The haze of sleep thinned with the sound of voices. Isabel struggled upward toward the warm light of consciousness. A hand brushed her forehead, soft, comforting.

"She doesn't have a fever."

Her eyes fluttered weakly open.

"Alex. Where - ?"

She tried to lift herself up, but his hand on her shoulder softly convinced her to lie down. "You showed up outside last night. I thought you were sick so I brought you inside. You slept eight hours."

"I don't remember." She looked around the room now, saw his mother. "Oh, Mrs. Whitman, I'm sorry. I've imposed."

Alex's mother smiled warmly, shook her head. "Not at all. I was worried myself when Alex told me you had taken sick outside. I'm going to go now and make some tea for you, dear."

"Thank you." Weakly, Isabel turned back to Alex. He pulled the blanket covering her back up.

"I thought you all didn't get sick." That smile. Those eyes. Warm. Caring. Gentle. Mesmerising.

"Um ... we don't. I mean we haven't. I don't think I'm sick. I just haven't been getting enough sleep. A lot on my mind."

"Max?" He always knew exactly what was wrong. Like her could read her mind. And that knowledge never mad her uncomfortable. She suddenly hated herself for treating him as she had.

She nodded. "Among other things."

"Anything I can adress?"

She just looked at him, innocent. He was so kind, so utterly, heart-breakingly human. Why couldn't she just accept that? "I ... I don't know. Did I say anything last night? Mention things ... people?"

"No. You just seemed confused. And you were shivering." She wasn't cold anymore, just comfortably warm. She smiled. He smiled back. "That's what I like to see."

"Of all the things I've witnessed, everything I've seen and done, that is the one thing that continues to consistently amaze me."

"What?"

"That quality about you. That ability you have to make all the troubles in the world seem like their a million light years away, and how you make it seem like now is all there is and should be cherished."

"Do I do that?"

"You do it to me." And it was true. He was doing it right now. She didn't know how he did it, but she loved it. And she had denied how powerful, how precious it was to her for so long now. And she started to cry. He looke worried, but she spoke before he had a chance to say anything charming. "Alex, you have to tell me: do you trust me? No qualifications, no conditions: do you trust me."

He looked at her for a moment, into her. And he nodded. "Completely." And he reached down and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "And I always will."

"Oh, god, thank you." She reached out and hugged him. "Thank you. I need someone to trust me."

"Is this still about Max? How he went off to New York with Tess and those doubles? How you couldn't contact him, but Liz could? Does he not trust you?"

How did he do it? "Yes, all of it. I kept a secret from him, from everyone. Something terrible, and he finally found out. From her, I think. From that dark version of me. I think he hates me. He just won't admit it."

He shook his head. "No, I don't think he does. If I know Max - and I'm not saying that I do know him, mind you - but if I do, he does trust you. He just knows that this secret you hid scared you. Otherwise it would have come out. And if it scared you, then what you are must not be what you were, what was in you that let you do whatever you did when you did it." He breathed slowly. "Did that make sense?"