God, how she wished she could tell everyone that, instead of having to lie and listen to their placations.

She rubbed a hand over her face, still feeling the tightness in her wrist from where it had been broken just days earlier.

If she could, she would scream it at the next person who tried to explain away the tragedy as accidental, providential, or a work of Satan’s minions through and through, however they chose to understand it. It didn’t matter to her. She had spent a great deal of time thinking as other people talked, trying to muddle through her beliefs about why this had happened to her. And then she’d spent a great deal more time blocking people out, tuning into Michael and living life through him for hours at a time. Not that he enjoyed it. But Liz missed Maria, and it was a great way to catch up with her, as well as make sure that Max was taking care of himself.

You wouldn’t think it was such a hard task, but his recovery from the blood loss was slow and he was so determined to keep going. If Liz was just there with him, she felt sure that she would be able to keep in bed... one way or another. Another smile crept across her face.

But the others had a difficult time dealing with him. He was pushing them so hard to investigate Christopher Cross. Now, of course, Michael was all over that, but thank goodness, Isabel had the common sense to make Max rest until he had recovered. And Max wasn’t letting Michael go on his own, so he had to settle for staking Christopher out for a while. But Michael was chomping at the bit so hard that Liz knew that they would probably infiltrate the guy’s house soon and use Alex’s surveillance equipment to find out more about him.

Of course, she also knew better than to hope for immediate answers, she thought with a wry grin. Since when had things ever gone well for them? In fact, if there was anything she’d learned over the last few years, it was how little control she had over anything in this life.

Heck, if she’d had things her way, she and Max would be on their honeymoon right now.

But, maybe they would find out Christopher was one of them. Maybe he could tell them some more about themselves. Almost anything would be more satisfying than Justin’s vague responses. To everyone’s frustration, Justin apparently didn’t remember much more than anybody else about their home planet or mission on earth. And Max was really concerned that he needed to know as much as possible about their heritage and mission here to protect everyone. They had only found out about the alien hunters tracking each one of the foursquare when one of them showed up to kill Max. What if there were other dangers, just waiting to be discovered?

Liz jumped as a movement caught her eye through the front gate. It was just the mailman, she realized with some measure of relief. He parked the small van and hopped out cheerfully, carrying an armful of mail.

Liz shook her head in amazement. The letters were still pouring in from all over the country, moved to write by the Evans’ horrible tragedy. Many of the letters wouldn’t even have a street address on them, but they would find their way to the Evans’ home, anyway. Liz had an equally impressive collection every day at her house, which Kyle picked up for her and brought here.

For some reason, the story of her ill-fated wedding had struck a chord on a national level and the media had turned it into quite a soap opera. The videographer for the wedding must have made a tidy sum of money selling the tape to news programs. And as a direct result of the exposure, the funeral had been attended by almost a thousand people, making it easily one of the biggest in Roswell history.

The funeral- oh god.

She felt a dark cloud cast a pall over her heart, despite the warm air. The funeral had been one of the worst experiences of her life. She had spent those thirty-eight minutes inside the dark church ignoring the sympathetic looks and the casket, and tuning out the glowing eulogies. Instead, she studied the beautiful flower arrangements that overflowed the sanctuary and ran out into the parking lot.

Tears welled up in her eyes at the memory. If Michael hadn’t kept up a constant stream of jokes and descriptions of stupid Californians, she probably wouldn’t have made it with her sanity intact. It had honestly been one of the worst experiences of her life. It had all felt too real.

But afterwards, Max had called and promised to come soon sooner than he‘d first said. Actually, what he said was that he was coming in a tux and a limo in two weeks and he’d take her any place she wanted to go. They’d get married and go honeymoon for a month.

Liz smiled softly and closed her eyes. All she wanted was Max and his arms around her again. Sometimes the pain of the separation was suffocating. So she opened her eyes and tried to find something else to occupy her mind. There was usually someone to talk to, if she wanted. She was never left alone now.

Her gaze traveled across the lawn to Mrs. Evans, trying to write thank you notes and reply to the overwhelming response of sympathy to her son’s tragic “death.” Liz watched her wipe away a tear as she wrote. It was hard on her pretending, too.

Mrs. Evans looked up and caught her eye. She hesitated, then smiled at Liz. Liz arranged a smile on her face and looked away, trying to look uninviting. She still wasn’t ready to talk about it all yet. Diane Evans was a wonderful woman, a wonderful mother and it just...

Liz felt her lips tighten in anger. It reminded her of the tattered relationship she had with her own mother.

It had been two days now since the funeral and she was going to have to go home and face her soon. For appearances at least, she should go home. But just thinking of talking to her mother...

A sudden tightness in her chest alerted Liz to the fact that she’d better stop that train of thought. Her breathing was becoming something of a problem. They’d had to rush her to the emergency room after the funeral because her lungs had gotten agitated and she couldn’t get enough oxygen. It was just a basic asthma attack, but it scared everyone because Liz didn’t have asthma. At least, not before then. The doctor prescribed valium and taught her how to use an inhaler. He said people’s bodies just do weird things when they are under a lot of stress. Had she been sleeping well? She’d almost laughed in his face.

Her chest felt tighter and she considered reaching for her inhaler. But she hated being dependent on that thing.

Just breathe normally. She focused her thoughts on the tubes in her lungs, using a whisper of power to shrink the inflamed bronchioli and let the air pass. After a few moments, she was breathing more deeply.

Okay, definitely not ready for the big talk yet, she thought with some measure of relief. When I can think about talking to her without hyperventilating, then I’ll go home.

“Hey, Liz, want some lemonade,” Kyle’s voice called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” she called back.

He and Joey had disappeared inside the house twenty minutes ago. Now there was something to smile about...

******

“At least I think it’s lemonade now,” Kyle raised his eyebrows at Joey. “Who knew keeping the powdered junk on hand could actually prevent migraines?”

Joey looked up at Kyle from lowered lids, still focused almost entirely on the pitcher of yellow liquid in front of her. There were lemons, water and sugar scattered about the countertop, but she just ignored the mess. “Okay,” she said as she poured another small sip in her glass. “Here we go.” She brushed away a loose curly lock of hair and sipped at her glass. Her eyebrows raised immediately in acknowledgement of the fair taste.

“Hey, great. No more lockjaw,” Kyle teased with that full grin Joey had to smile back at.

She handed him the glass. “Much better. Try it.”

His light blue eyes watched her closely as he crossed himself and took a gulp. Then he smacked his lips a few times.

“Well,” she crossed to him and took away the glass, expecting an answer.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Still a little too tart.”

“It is not,” Joey shot back with an indignant look. “It’s absolutely-”

“It’s not sweet enough,” Kyle said pointedly, then swiftly put his hands on her waist and drew her closer.

Joey sucked in a quick breath and her mind desperately tried to come up with a category for the look he was giving her...

As his lips moved towards hers, she swallowed nervously. What would Justin think? But she shoved that thought away and a soft kiss was her reward.

“Much better with a ‘Joey-chaser‘,” Kyle whispered, his eyes twinkling at her. Had she mentioned what an amazing baby blue they were?

Joey smiled slowly, realizing his hands were still holding her close to him. His eyes turned darker and Joey felt her breath shudder in as his heat washed over him. He smelled like... leather and musky aftershave. The tang of it burned her lips as she leaned into his neck. Kyle stood just an inch taller than she, but he was muscular and easily enveloped her thin frame. And she liked it.

He turned his head slightly and their lips found each other again, more urgently this time. The heady scent of him overwhelmed her and she finally pulled back a little.

Kyle looked at her with slight panic. “Did I do something,” he began, closing his mouth abruptly as if he was afraid to finish the question.

“No,” Joey pulled away, but slid her hand down to hold his. “I just don’t usually move this fast. I mean, not usually.” No sense in telling him that she’d never moved at all with a guy before, right? She’d only kissed one guy before- Justin. And okay, that had been fast, but that was different; it was DNA-induced.

That twinkle came back in Kyle’s eyes. “You don’t usually move this fast? Hell, I don’t usually move this slow.”

Joey blinked and a gradual smile came over her face. He was changing his MO for her. She nodded in satisfaction, giving him a calculating look. Kyle was no lady-killer after all.

******

Max slipped into the large house carefully, closing the door behind him. They had been watching Christopher and his wife for several days now and knew their schedule down to the minute. Max had plenty of time before either of them would be home. The entrance foyer he found himself in was two stories’ high, light and airy with white, mostly undecorated walls. The golden-hued wooden floor wasn’t particularly quiet, but Max managed to make it through to the main room without undue noise. The house had no security system as far as he could tell, which definitely made his job easier. Get in; plant the camera; get out.

All of their planning depended on this one successful run. Max felt the pressure as he moved through the house stealthily, trying to keep his mind off the possibilities of conspiracies and G-men.

This had to be done. Christopher was an enigma. The symbol from the orb that he had drawn on his business card that day just over a month ago had meant something. And after his “death” Max felt just crazy enough to risk it all and find out what it was, here and now.

He was going to plant the camera, and they were going to learn the secrets, no matter what the cost.

******

Isabel twisted her pendent nervously. “God, I hate this. Why couldn‘t we just corner him on the street somewhere and ask him who he is? If he‘s FBI, then his house is the last place Max should be. Am I right?” She paced to the other wall and pressed a hand to her forehead. “What, does he have a death wish or something?”

“Well, considering that he watched part of his own funeral broadcast on t.v. the other day,” Maria provided in a bored tone. “I’d say he figures since he’s still around to do something, he might as well make it big. You know, solve the whole orb-foursquare-weird name thingee in one fell swoop. I mean, if this guy is one of you, then this could be the big break, you know?”

Isabel frowned slightly. “That actually made sense.” She shook her head and walked over to the window of the small hotel room. “I am spending way too much time with you.”

Outside the window, she could see the nice, aqua pool with its various collection of kids, twinkie-addicts bulging out of their bikinis and sun worshippers bronzing themselves compulsively.

“Well, just be glad he’s out of fetal position now, actually moving around and accomplishing something. For a while there, I thought we’d buried the real Max and taken off with a dead Larry copy.“

Isabel nodded. Max had been completely devastated by having to leave Liz behind, which she completely understood. They had been expecting to leave on their honeymoon that night and instead, they were saying goodbye to each other for a month. Isabel had felt bad enough having to leave Alex behind, but didn’t even want to imagine how Max felt after what they’d been through. She just hoped they could find answers and get back soon. At least Max had decided to make it a shorter trip. She didn’t know how long she could live like this- four people in one hotel room? Seeing Michael and Maria together was irritating and Max was pining over Liz so badly that he wasn’t very good company either.

Isabel sighed. The water outside was mesmerizing in the bright sunlight, but she tore her eyes away to look at the video receiver. Still dead. “Max, turn the stupid thing on and get out of there,” she whispered tensely.

“Is he done yet,” Michael called out from the bathroom.

“No,” Maria answered him.

Isabel rubbed at the tender place between her eyes. They had to find a way to cut this stupid connection between Michael and Liz. Max didn’t want to worry her, so Michael was staying in the bathroom, making her block him until Max was done.

Ridiculous. And this was after Michael spent hours every day keeping Liz from committing emotional suicide. He said it was like having a crash course in female psychosis.

This whole connection thing just didn’t make sense to her. If the stupid orb had just waited and used Max’s DNA to transform Liz, then THEY’d be connected and everything would be so much easier. It killed Max for Michael to be able to share her grief in a way that he couldn’t, mainly because Max felt he brought it on her himself.

And no, he hadn’t, she reminded herself, but try making him believe that.

“Isabel,” Maria’s voice was tense. The monitor was on.