"Pick-up!" Michael yelled. "Maria, are you deaf? Pick-up!"

She looked over her shoulder to where Michael stood wearing a white t-shirt with a blue bandanna tied around his head. He rang the bell at the pick-up station-as if she hadn't heard him the first five times-and looked at her in angry frustration.

"Excuse me," she murmured to the customer. "I think your order is ready." Striding across the restaurant she slammed her hand over the bell. "If you value your life on Earth even tiniest bit, you WON'T ring that thing again."

Michael stared at her impassively and handed her a plate of fries. "Table seven."

Maria frowned. "No one is sitting at table seven. This is for table two."

"Table seven," he growled under his breath.

Maria turned to see the table being taken by the sheriff. "It's Valenti," she observed. "So what? He eats lunch here every day--"

"He ate an hour ago. Why is he back?"

Before she had the chance to think about that, the front door swung open. The glaring summer light was blindingly white in comparison to the dimly lit interior of the restaurant leaving the woman in the doorway little more than a dark silhouette. Valenti stood and Maria watched the stranger approach him.

She wore a long black jacket despite the summer heat and walked with a measured stride that spoke as clearly of self confidence as it did of self possession. Valenti gestured for the woman to take a seat.

Michael handed Maria the coffee pot. "See if they want any."

"Oh yeah right," she drawled. "That's inconspicuous. It's a hundred degrees outside and I'm offering coffee. They'll never suspect a thing."

"Just do it alright."

Rolling her eyes, Maria picked up two coffee cups and the plastic laminated menus that touted such delicacies as "Eclipse burgers with Saturn onion rings" and "Men in Blackberry Pie."

"Good afternoon, Sheriff," Maria said in a falsely cheery voice. Setting a cup on the table, she began filling it with coffee. "Do you want dessert? My mom made pie. I know you like her pie."

"I can't resist Amy's pies. Do you have coconut?"

"I'll check." She turned to offer the woman a menu and after a quick assessment Maria realized the red head was almost--if not quite--beautiful. At least not beautiful as defined in some flashy, supermodel sort of way, but she could be in a quiet, elegantly restrained way that reminded Maria of a drawing she had once seen of the Greek Goddess Athena--goddess of wisdom and war.

The woman placed her hand over the lip of her cup. "No coffee, thank you," she said in a low, mellifluous voice.

"With this heat, I don't blame you. Would you like a soda?" Maria asked.

"Juice or decaf tea would be nice."

"Sure. No problem. I'll just leave the menus with you." Maria glanced at Valenti. "I'll be back with your pie in a minute."

As the waitress walked away, Special Agent Dana Scully looked around her. "Interesting décor," she noted taking in the orange walls painted with flying saucers and small green aliens. Even the waitress wore antennas and a silver lame apron. Mulder would love it.

The sheriff shrugged. "It's Roswell, New Mexico. It sort of goes with the territory."

"Along with UFO museums and sci-fi conventions?"

Valenti sipped his coffee. "It's a cottage industry around here. We're a small, quiet town so businesses use any gimmick they can."

Scully gazed at the sheriff. This wasn't the first time she had heard the "this is a small, quiet town" line, and she wasn't sure that it was any more valid here than the other times she had heard it. "For such a quiet town," she said, "you seem to have more than your fair share of unexplained deaths."

The sheriff looked tense. "Unexplained?"

"Special Agents Matthieson and Fields to name two. Their bodies were found at the Eagle Rock Military base."

Valenti sat back in his chair. "The FBI investigated that over a month ago."

"Yes, I believe there was a report signed by an Agent Pierce."

"So why is the FBI back?"

The air split with the sound of shattering glass. "I'm sorry," Maria said anxiously as she looked at the broken plate laying on the floor.

Valenti stood then knelt beside Maria. "It's okay," he reassured as she frantically tried to wipe up the wet mess with napkins. He took her hand. "It's okay," he repeated.

She lifted her head sharply and looked him dead in the eye. Nodding, she stood. "I'll bring you another slice of pie." She walked into the kitchen. When the door shut behind her, she leaned against the wall and told herself to take deep, even breaths. Now was not the time to panic.

"What is it?" Michael demanded. "Maria, what's wrong?"

She opened her eyes and looked into his handsome face. Something inside her ached. No, actually, something hurt. Pushing herself away from the wall she approached him, but she didn't throw her arms around him as she would have liked. That was out of bounds now. He was no longer hers--if he had ever been hers to begin with.

"They're back," she whispered.

Michael frowned. "Who?" Then he blinked. "The FBI?"

She glanced through the pass-thru window. "Yeah. Her. The one with Valenti. She's looking into the deaths of the FBI agents--"

"Shit." Michael's face became a stark, unreadable mask. "She's looking for me."

Maria turned sharply. "No! No, Michael. This isn't about Pierce. This is about the men at Eagle Rock. The ones that Nasedo. . . "

"The ones that Nasedo killed," Michael finished for her. "The ones he murdered just like I murdered Pierce."

Maria massaged her temple and raked her hands through her hair as she concentrated on her breathing. There was no point in telling Michael yet again that he was no murderer, that what he had done was self defense. Michael was unshakeable. He had always been unreasonable but now. . . now it was more than that. He was his own judge and jury, and nothing she said mattered.

He avoided her at all costs these days. The only reason he was with her now was because of work and because neither of them had a choice. Maria's income was nearly as necessary as her mother's to support the two of them, and Michael. . . Michael had no one but himself. Neither of them had the luxury of Max and Isabel who were even now on vacation in Canada. For all of their "alien destiny" they were also the children of a successful local lawyer and had to keep the appearance that they were just like anyone else. Liz on the other hand had been so inconsolable after everything that had happened with the orbs and the message from Max and Isabel's real mother that after a couple of weeks of moping around the house her parents had sent her to Sante Fe to spend the summer with her aunt.

"I better take that pie to Valenti," Maria said after a long, unbroken silence.

Michael grabbed a mop.

She grabbed it back. "No!" she snapped. "You aren't going out there."

He grabbed the handle and they began a tug of war for the mop. "If you can spy on them, so can I," he argued.

"But I'm not the one--"

It was too late. Michael won the war and was already through the swinging door. "I'm not the one in danger," she repeated quietly to no one but herself. She followed him from the kitchen.

Maria was acutely aware of the FBI agent's eyes on Michael. The woman looked at Michael almost as if she knew him. That scared Maria. Except. . . except there was something about the woman's expression. The agent's face was nearly inscrutable but for a fleeting moment Maria thought she saw something soft and wistful. Something immediately followed by pain then hidden beneath the woman's calm, controlled exterior.

As Maria placed a piece of pie in front of the sheriff he said, "Agent Scully, I still don't understand. If the FBI closed the case on the deaths of Agents Mathieson and Fields, how did you become involved?"

"The case was never officially closed. It was labeled unsolved and unsolvable. Such cases become my and my partn--" she stopped abruptly. "They become my domain. I have reviewed the case. It seems that both agents died by what can only be called unusual methods."

"Unusual?"

"Their organs were cooked. . . from the inside. . .while they were alive."

Valenti grimaced. "What could cause that?"

"I don't know. Microwaves of some sort or perhaps radiation. However, neither of those things explain the efflorescent palm print left on the bodies."

"Interesting, but this sounds like a FBI matter. Why are you contacting me?"

"Lost in the paperwork filed by Agent Pierce was a mention of a report you filed about a gas station fire on Highway 285. The gas pumps appeared to spontaneously combust and the only evidence you listed was what I believe you called a 'glowing silver handprint.'"

"I wrote something like that," he said. "But it wasn't nearly as unusual as you make it sound. It was just an indention in the metal and was probably glowing because of the fire."

Scully nodded. "I also took the liberty of stopping by your office today hoping that you would have a more complete case file on the fire than I do."

Valenti shifted in his seat as Scully stared at him levelly.

She continued, "You have a fairly complete dossier of cases involving silver palm prints, sheriff. It dates all the way back to 1959."

"My father was something of a UFO buff," he explained.

"And yourself?"

"I live in Roswell. It's a gimmick for tourists. Nothing more."

"One of your reports was also signed by a Deputy Fischer. Do you remember that?"

"I guess so.""Are you aware that an officer by the name of Fischer was found murdered months before this report was filed?"

Valenti blanched. "No. What do you make of it, Agent Scully?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm investigating." A tiny, somewhat sad smile lifted the corner of her mouth. "That's why they put the 'I' in FBI."

* * *

Maria pounded on Michael's apartment door. "Open up, Michael. I know you're in there. I saw the light from the street."

There was a long silence then finally she heard the click of the lock turning and Michael opened the door.

"About time," she muttered as she walked boldly into the efficiency apartment.

"You shouldn't be here."

"How did I know you were going to say that? Oh, wait, now I remember. You've said that every time I've seen you outside of work for the past month. You really need to come up with some new material."

He slammed the apartment door. "Damnit, Maria, I mean it. It's dangerous. The FBI is back."

"Which is exactly why I'm here."

"I don't need your help."

"Tough. I'm almost all you've got. In case you haven't noticed the pod squad isn't available. Unless, of course, you want to go to Tess--which I wouldn't advise since I'm not going anywhere and if I have to be in the same room with her I might just scratch her eyes out."

"She'd only give you nightmares, and you know she could do it."

Maria shrugged. "Big deal. I'm having nightmares anyway." She looked up at him. "So what are we going to do?"

"You heard Valenti. We aren't going to do anything. He told us point blank after the FBI agent left that we were not to make any trouble. He'd take care of it."

Maria crossed her arms. "Pull the other one, Michael. No way are you leaving this up to Valenti. Who do you think you're fooling? I know you. You might like to forget that but I can't." She looked up at him. "So when are you leaving to search her hotel room?"

"Stay out of this."

"You ARE going to search her hotel room."

"I didn't say that."

"But you are."

His dark eyes narrowed. "I am. You're not."

"You aren't going anywhere without me."

"Damnit, Maria--"

There was a knock on the door. "Don't look so anxious," she told him. "It's only Alex. I called him."

Michael followed her to the door. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you need help, and I hate to tell you this, but you're going to have to depend on us insignificant, overly emotional humans for it." She opened the door. "Hi, Alex, did you bring the stuff?"

He lifted a black backpack. "I've got everything we decided on. Ready to go?"

"You guys are nuts to be breaking into an FBI agent's hotel room," Michael growled belligerently even as he followed Maria and Alex down the back stairs.

"You were going to do it yourself," Maria pointed out.

"That's different."

"How?"

"Just is."

"Well there you go. That's a Michael answer for you." She crossed her arms. "You know, it's not like we haven't done this before."

"Just not with me," Alex added.

She shrugged as she opened the door to her car and slid into the driver's seat. "Close enough. You helped with all the spying on Tess and Nasedo. Plus you hacked into Topolsky's computer."

"And that just worked out SO well," Michael grunted.

"We found out what we wanted didn't we?"

Actually, we found out more than we wanted, she thought. More than she ever wanted to know and if there was a way to go back and make different choices she would. It would be so great to go back to the time before Special Agent Topolsky had returned to Roswell with her talk of orbs as communicators and secret divisions of the FBI. If they could have avoided Agent Pierce and his darkly dangerous paranoia, if they hadn't found the orbs and that strange message of a manifest destiny, could they have been happy? Could they have all gone back to being somewhat normal people? Sure Michael, Isabel, and Max had never been 'normal' in the common meaning of the word but in comparison to the situation in which they found themselves now six months ago had been paradise.

She parked her car in the parking lot of the motor lodge. The three of them sat quietly in the dark.

"So which room is hers?" Michael finally asked.

"Third one on the right on the second floor."

He turned to look at Maria and the neon light from the motel sign cast his features in an eerie green light. Despite his handsome face and dark eyes, for a moment he did look almost alien. It was a trick of the light of course. . .the light and because now he was doing everything possible to be a stranger to her. He was sitting beside her and a million miles away at the exact same time.

How was it possible to completely abandon someone when you were standing right beside them? To tell someone you love them in one breath and push them away the next? She didn't know but Michael was the master of it.

A moment in time was etched in her brain. Standing in the UFO museum, Special Agent Pierce's lifeless body only a few yards away and Michael refusing to look either Max or herself in the eye. Michael's voice had been breathless and despondent as he confessed, "I wanted to kill him. That's all I could think about. I wanted him dead. Then I just did it. I thought it and it happened." He asked in an anguished whisper, "What kind of person does that make me?"

She had wanted to go to Michael then. To say something but she couldn't think of what. Besides, he wouldn't accept comfort from her in front of everyone else.

"We would be dead if you hadn't done it," Max told him.

She saw a muscle twitch in Michael's profile as he told his friend, "Bottom line, Maxwell, is that I kill people. I kill people and you heal them. You're good and I'm bad."

Then Michael had looked at her. He turned his face from the darkness into the light and looked at her with his fathomless eyes. "Get out of here," he told her. . .then walked away.

She frowned and followed. "What are you saying?"

"It's not safe."

"It's never been safe. What difference does it make now?"

"I'm not safe!"

They turned the corner and they were alone in a small pool of light cast by a single bulb in the dark hallway.

"I can do these. . .these things," he told her, "but I can't control them. Look at what I did to Pierce. I'm not going to take that chance with you."

"Wait!" she reached out and caught him. They stood half in shadow. "Don't do this to me, Michael. Please! You need me. I know you do."

"I don't need anyone." "Maybe I do," she cried. "Did you ever think of that? I mean, look at Max and Liz. They can't stand to be separated. But you? You just throw me away. Just like that, you throw me away. How can you do that?" Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "How, Michael?"

He gazed down at her. A slightly confused frown marred his brow, and his eyes. . .his darkly, expressive eyes held her transfixed. "Maybe because I love you too much," he whispered.

She wanted to cry. She was going to cry because he followed that confession with "Good-bye" and left her to stand alone in the shadows. . .

"How do we know Agent Scully isn't in there?" Alex's voice snapped Maria back to the present.

"I spoke to Valenti," Maria explained. "He said she was reviewing files in his office, and it didn't look like she was leaving anytime soon."

Michael frowned, "You told Valenti we were going to search an FBI agent's motel room?!"

Maria got out of the car. "Of course not. I just called sounding panicked and Valenti tried to talk me out of doing something stupid by saying he had everything under control."

"Stop you from doing something? If he can do that he should give lessons." Michael followed her up the stairs then glanced at Alex. "What's in the backpack?"

"Supplies," Alex answered. "The camera we used to spy on Tess--"

"I thought that was destroyed."

Alex shrugged. "I took a shot at fixing it."

"And?"

"Sh!" Maria said as they reached the motel room door. "We don't want to attract anyone's attention. Michael, do you think you could . . .um. . . you know?"

He looked from her to the doorknob. "We should have brought Tess. She can do these things. Besides I don't like to. . ."

Maria understood. Under the best of circumstance Michael could barely control his talents. Since the thing with Pierce, she sort of thought he might refuse to use them at all. "I guess we can jimmy the lock," she murmured. "Or maybe do that credit card thing you always see on TV. Alex, do you have--"

"Step back," Michael commanded.

She stared at him.

"We don't want it to look like someone broke in," he explained. "Step back. Way back, both of you. I mean it."

The actual opening of the door was rather anti-climactic. She and Alex stepped away and stood next to the railing as Michael gripped the door knob. A second or two passed and the door opened. They slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind them. They didn't glance at each other. Michael went to the bedside stand and looked at the notepad beside the phone. Picking up a pencil he scratched over the surface to see if he could pick up any phone numbers. Alex made a bee-line for the laptop computer sitting on the table. Opening it he waited for the computer to boot as he pulled a zip drive out of his backpack.

Maria stood in the immaculately neat motel room and felt distinctly uncomfortable. They were invading someone's privacy. It was wrong. She knew it, but then they had done many desperate things lately. They were even becoming good at it. It was scary and horrifying and exciting all at the same time.

She walked to the area that served as bathroom and closet. A few toiletries lay beside the sink. Nothing unusual. Two dark jackets hung on wood hangers. Two silk blouses beside them. Agent Scully clearly knew how to pack light.

Maria returned to the bedroom as Michael began sifting through the trash basket. She opened drawers. She found a rosary--an expensive one with a silver cross. She passed over it as well as the white silk pajamas as something caught her attention. She paused. It was a plastic laminated identification badge. The picture was Agent Scully looking younger with longer hair and beneath it lay another badge.

Maria touched the photo and thought she had discovered why Agent Scully had gazed so intently at Michael in the Crashdown that afternoon. A face amazingly like Michael's stared back at her. He was older with shorter, more neatly groomed hair as well as a suit and tie, but there was a definite resemblance. Maria read the name "Fox Mulder" --strange name--under the photo and for the first time wondered where the human DNA used to create Michael had come from. . .

Okay, she had just weirded herself out.

She didn't like to think about it much. The revelations of the spring had come too fast and had been too devastating to think about for long, but deep down under everything was the knowledge that for all his humanity, Michael was different. He hadn't been born. He had been engineered. Created. Before he had ever taken a breath his appearance and his future had been planned.

She hated thinking of him like that. Somehow it made him seem less real, and he was real. He was human, almost totally so. But his existence wasn't the fluke that her own was. The only reason she was here was because her mother had been knocked up at the age of fifteen. Michael's life had been planned, calculated, and executed because he had lived before. He had been someone before he was Michael. He had been totally alien.

He had died in that life, or he had been killed. She didn't know the details--for that matter neither did he--but he must have been important because he had been chosen. The essence of whoever he had been reincarnated using human DNA.

Agent Pierce had told Max that he was almost completely human and that must go for Michael and Isabel as well. Even Nasedo had confessed as much when explaining that he, shapeshifter that he was, was something apart from Michael whose form and abilities were all human. Nasedo had complained that humans were wasteful creatures who used only a small fraction of their brain's abilities and that Max, Isabel, Michael, and even that witch Tess had been engineered to use their human bodies more efficiently.

Maria shoved Fox Mulder's badge beneath Scully's and shut the drawer. Mulder's image disturbed her. She didn't like thinking of Michael's past as someone other than who he was today, someone who had once been tied to Isabel. . . someone who had probably loved Isabel because he had been linked to her. She had been his chosen mate then and in his visions she was his destined mate now, which left no room for Maria. This was the knowledge that had devastated Liz. Oh not about Michael and Isabel, but similar stuff about Max and Tess.

Maria wasn't sure if Liz's situation was better or worse than her own, but at least Liz could hate Tess. Tess had that sort of grating personality that was easy to hate. Maria wasn't sure if even Max liked her. But Isabel. . .? How could Maria hate Isabel? They were friends. . .sort of. Well, a little anyway. The problem with hating Isabel was that she was a real person. A whole person with good and bad points, strengths and weaknesses, feelings. She cared. Besides, Maria's best friend Alex was head over heels in love with her, which just went to show how hopeless all of their situations were.

"It's been twenty minutes," Michael stated. "Alex, aren't you done with whatever it is you're doing over there?"

"Almost."