Feeling like an idiot, she sat on the bed staring out the window, waiting for him. Trying to appear like she was not doing just that, and feeling even more idiotic for caring how she looked when he came in, she gave her room one last look to make sure she hadn't left anything utterly embarrassing lying around, like a bra or a pair of underwear. Her eyes fell on a shopping bag in the corner next to her door, and she gave a little shriek. God, I almost left this lying here. If Alex had seen it, and realized what it was, I would never be able to speak to him again. She jumped almost across the room and snapped up the bag. I have to think. What can I do with it? Where will he not look? Finally, her gaze settled on the bed, and she shrugged. It was a cliché, but what could she do? She leaned over and pushed the bag under, but there was something in the way. Getting down unto her knees, she stuck her head under the bed and tried to push the bag in, but the what-ever-it-was in the way would not budge. Finally she pulled the bag out and peered through the dim light under the bed, trying to discover what exactly was under there.

"Oh," she murmured softly. Now she realized what it was. The last time she had had to scramble to clean her room had been months ago, but she still remembered stuffing this box under her bed just as her mother walked in to make sure she had cleaned up, so she would be able to go out on a date. She had taken it out of her closet the day before, exactly one month after her mother had appeared to Max, Michael, Tess and she in the cave, to look at, and then forgotten to put it away. Her mother box.

Suddenly holding back tears, Isabel traced her fingers over the raised letters on the outside, made with macaroni and construction paper and lace soon after she learned what the word Mommy meant. But even then she had known that she must keep this box hidden, what it would do to the mother she knew if it was found, so she did just that. Everything she ever thought about her real mother, anything she ever dreamed about her, any images in her head, or moms she had seen on TV, or even things she thought she remembered, she had put in this box. Either drawing, or writing down what she thought or saw, or even simply picking up things that reminded Isabel of her mother for whatever reason, she put in this box. That was why it was so heavy. Isabel had thought about her mother constantly, even more as a child than now, and the box was full of papers and drawings, but what really made up the weight were the stones. As a child she had always thought of her mother when she saw a smooth stone. It had taken her a very long time to reason out why, but when she had last taken out this box, she figured it out. Those smooth stones reminded her of the stones the four of them had used in the cave, the ones that led to her mother appearing. She had no idea how she had know about those stones as a child, but she must have, at least subconsciously. Picking up a fistful, she was surprised that some felt hot to the touch. Taking the hot ones from the rest, she peered in vain through the dimness under the bed at them, and felt them with her fingers. It seemed, as she touched them, that they were saying something, trying to tell her something of vast importance, and she could almost make out through the small light a design of some sort on the stones....

A throat cleared behind her, and she jumped, knocking her head on the bottom of her bed. Realizing it had be Alex, she cursed silently, all thoughts of the stones forgotten, grabbed the plastic bag, and stuffed it into her mother box. It didn't really go there, but if she was just a normal average American teenager, getting the stuff in that shopping bag would have been something she did with her mother, just as it was something she had done with her mother here. Suddenly realizing that she was on the floor with her butt sticking up in the air, she scrambled out from beneath the bed. There was absolutely no way to explain her behavior, she decided, so just say as little as possible.

"I was...um... straightening up," she stammered, avoiding Alex's piercing gaze. She finally allowed herself a look at him, though. As she was looking at her mother box, the thought had crossed her mind that maybe all this "alien stuff" would help her stop the undeniable attraction she had been feeling for Alex tonight, but no such luck. Just looking at him took her breath away. His muscles were defined even through his too-tight wife beater. Alex always looked so dorky, and that had helped Isabel keep a reign on her emotions before, but tonight, in decent jeans and just that tight shirt, she had no such defense. He looked absolutely adorable tonight, and as she finally met his gaze, his eyes almost made her weak in the knees. She felt like some idiotic 7th grader seeing someone like Tom Cruise in person, ready to faint at the sight of him, yet that did nothing to off set the effect he was having on her. She thought she could lose herself in those eyes, but even as she was about to, she saw the pain in them, and stopped herself. Alex did not come here tonight for you to stare at him, she reminded herself sharply. He has always been there for you through your problems, now you be there for him through his.

Walking over to him, she reached out gently to take his bags, and then set them down beside the bed. She grabbed his arm and sat down on the bed, pulling him down with her. She turned to look at him, pulling one of her legs up underneath her, and stared into his face intently.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, putting her hand over his comfortingly. Her eyes searched his face trying to discover his real answer, whatever he said aloud.

"Not... yet. Maybe later, after I've had time to sort it out in my own mind. Would you mind if we just went to sleep now? I'm exhausted from running around all night, and I think that would probably be best." He too eyed her as if searching for something, but she could see the weariness in his face.

"Sure, I don't mind at all. You get the bed, and I brought blankets so I-'' He didn't allow her to finish.

"What! You are not sleeping on the floor! This is your house, and your room, and your bed! I am not going to push you onto the floor!"

Isabel could tell he intended to be stubborn about this, but she was not about to bend an inch. "I am sleeping on the floor and you are sleeping on the bed, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. You have been through enough tonight, you do not need to be sleeping on any floors, and I am going to sleep on the floor whether you do or not, so you might as well take the bed!"

"Then I am sleeping on the floor too," he retorted, "so you can do what ever you want but I am taking the floor!"

Isabel sighed. God, but he could be stubborn! "How about we share the bed? It's a compromise. And you are going to sleep in the bed if I have to hold you there all night, so it's either both of us in the bed or just you." Suddenly the image of her holding him on the bed all night popped into her head, and she blushed. She hoped he would take it for anger, rather than embarrassment. Despite her blush, she continued to stare at him unwaveringly, and she watched as hundreds of protests died on his lips. Grumbling, he shifted around on the bed, and then stood up.

"Fine," he said unhappily, "But I want it on the record that this is under protest. Especially if Max walks in," he added under his breath, and Isabel was sure she was not supposed to hear that. She hid a laugh in a cough, and stood up too.

"I would like to change, if you don't mind," he said, daring her to contradict him again. "That's fine," Isabel said, "but would you mind changing in the closet? Even if they got up to go to the bathroom, no one in this house would notice if you knocked them over, but they might remember in the morning." She looked at him apologetically, and then pointed to the closet door.

Grumbling, he grabbed his bag and stomped into the closet, slamming the door behind him. As soon as the door closed, Isabel collapsed onto the bed, heaving a sigh of relief. She could not believe what an effort it was to stay focused on acting normal, not letting any of her attraction show through. She was not sure she was doing that great a job, either. And when he had mentioned changing!

Giving herself a mental shake, she stood up and unconsciously began pacing. I should not be acting like this, she thought, I am not some lovesick child who has never even been kissed. I am Isabel Evans, who has guys practically lining up to go out with her. I need to snap out of this.

The closet door opened mid-pace, and Isabel whirled on Alex. She was vaguely surprised to see him; in her haste to forget him and the effect he was having on her, she almost had. Taking a breath to steady herself, she tried to think calmly. Her mind settled on what was coming next, though, and she almost started pacing again. Now they had to get into bed together! She was not sure if she could do this. Not only was it going to be extremely hard to smother her attraction while sharing a bed, the actual process of getting into bed with him was going to be so unbelievably awkward, she was sure. She sighed resignedly. There is nothing to do but go on, she thought. Smiling, or attempting to, she turned to him.

"Ready for bed?" she asked a little too cheerily. Not really waiting for his answer, she pulled the covers down on her bed-and almost jumped when she recognized a velvet bra among the bed sheets. In one quick motion she hopped into the bed, grabbed the bra in what she hoped was a nonchalant motion, and threw it violently under the bed. Giving her a look that seemed to imply she was out of her mind, Alex slipped into the other side of the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. It was only then that she realized what her mind had been trying to block out since Alex stepped out of the closet. All he was wearing was boxers. Attempting to think rationally, she saw that he had probably anticipated sleeping at Michael's and hadn't brought anything else to wear, but one part of her mind was gibbering that she was alone in her room in her bed with a half dressed man to whom she was feeling very attracted at this moment. Deciding dark would be best, considering she would not be tempted to look under the covers at his washboard stomach or his amazing shoulders, she turned the lights out from the bed, and then tried to relax. Maybe some more alien stuff will help me, she thought, none too hopefully. I can turn out lights without getting out of bed, she chanted in her head. I am not normal. Somehow, it did not seem to be helping.