Why is she doing this to me?

I can't sleep. I can't eat. I put my hand to my chest and am surprised to feel my heart still beating there. All I see is the two of them together. Lies. It's all lies.

I confront her. She denies that there is more than what I saw. She says she had sex with Kyle - I refuse to use the term "made love" like she did. How can she say she made love to Kyle? You can't make love to someone you don't love. She doesn't love Kyle. She loves me.

God, what if it is the truth? What if she did give it up to him? I thought the first time needed to be special. I thought she would want to give her innocence to someone she loved. I thought she was saving it for me. Because I was saving mine for her.

Which is why I can't believe her. I don't believe her. She didn't have sex with Kyle. I know it.

I follow her, waiting for her to slip up in some way. She doesn't. I don't catch her with Kyle. I don't see Kyle at all. It's like he's disappeared off the face of the earth. She doesn't appear to look for him. I refuse to believe that the Liz I know would sleep with someone, then just casually walk away like nothing happened. It's just more evidence. More to add to the pile called Something's Not Right.

I bump into Tess. She puts her arms around me in comfort, but I can't return the gesture. She is warm and soft and inviting. And I feel nothing for her. Eventually she understands and leaves me to my own private hell.

I steal onto Liz's balcony in the dead of night, my knees shaking with the memory of the last time I did this. I can still see them, see the guilt on Kyle's face, the fear on Liz's. I close my eyes and push that memory away. I sit, not far from the open window, and watch her sleep.

She's on her side, her arm wrapped around a pillow. I can't believe I am jealous of a pillow. I have an insane thought of slipping that pillow from under her arm like the Grinch slipping candy canes from the Who's arms and sliding myself under her arm instead. She's sleeping peacefully, like a woman with a clean conscience. Or no conscience.

No, I don't believe that, either. I saw the look in her eyes when she saw me outside of her window. She looked wrecked. Not guilty. Like what she was doing was meant to hurt me, but it was ripping her apart also. God, why won't she just tell me?

I suddenly wish I had Isabel's gift to invade Liz's dreams. I could confront her subconscious, ask her to reveal her secret to me. And she would - people are much more honest in their dreams. It would be an immoral thing to do - and at this point I don't care. I don't care about much these days.

She stirs and I watch in absolute wonder as her body shifts beneath her blankets. I hold my breath, for fear she is waking up, but she rolls onto her back, the pillow discarded to the floor. Maybe I didn't want to be that pillow after all.

She moves again, rolling to her other side, her dark hair fanning out behind her. I swallow away the longing to run my hands through its silkiness. Almost immediately she rolls onto her back again, her feet kicking their way from the covers. It dawns on me that she is suddenly very restless in her slumber, and I lean closer to the window.

Her fists are clenching and unclenching, her lips silently spelling out the mystery of her. She touches her face, then her arm drops to the bed again. I can feel my heart start to quicken with the fear that she is embroiled in a nightmare of some kind. Maybe I should wake her…

In the dim light of the balcony, I see a tear slip from the corner of her eye. She's not awake, but in her sleep she has gasped in a shaky breath. And then I hear her voice, a cry of despair as she breathes my name.

I don't know what to do. I look around nervously, wondering if I should just leave. Maybe I should go to her.

That's a great idea. I'm becoming a stalker.

And like other stalkers, I have no control over myself. I am through her window before I can stop myself. Now that I am in her room, I have no idea what to do. All I need is to startle her and have her scream. Her dad would love to get his hands on my ass at this point. I shift my weight, picking up the pillow from the floor. I can smell her on it - her perfume, Liz's own smell. My mouth has gone dry and the shake has returned to my knees.

I sit down beside her. She stops mid-inhale and her eyelids flutter. I quickly put my finger over her soft lips. Her eyes snap open and she recoils. I can feel the rejection straight down to my bones. She looks terrified.

I remove my finger from her lips and touch my own in the universal sign for "Be quiet." She pushes herself to a sitting position against her headboard, as far away from me as she can get. I can see the tracks of her tears on her cheeks. I need to wipe them away, to taste them. I shake my head and will the image away.

"What?" is all she can squeak out, her voice heavy with her sleep. I think I can see her heartbeat in the hollow of her throat. She really is terrified.

"You were dreaming," I whisper, my own voice sounding foreign.

She's still staring at me, and I think I can see the exact moment she remembers the dream. She glances around the room - toward the bathroom? That puzzles me.

"Why?" is her next response.

I'm not sure what she means, and I think she is still somewhat incoherent from her sleep. I'll answer all of her questions the same way for the rest of our lives. "Because I love you."

She shakes her head and she moves to get up from the bed. I let her. In spite of the situation, I am amused that she sleeps in an undershirt and boxers. She goes to the bathroom, but doesn't shut the door. She looks behind it instead, then scratches her head in what looks like relief. "It was a dream."

I stand up as she comes back to bed, but she passes me and crawls back under the covers, her back to me. "It was all a dream," she repeats, her voice heavy again.

She doesn't think I'm standing here. She thinks I am some kind of apparition. I walk around to the other side of the bed and kneel down so I can see her face. Her eyes have already closed.

"Liz," I say and her eyes open again. "I'm here, Liz."

She shakes her head, her face contorting with pain. "No, you left me. You went back."

I swallow against the panic that is rising in my body. What is she talking about? I left her? No, she supposedly slept with Kyle - that's why we're not together. What does she mean, I went back? To my home planet? How did I go back?

I touch her forehead and she gasps. Suddenly she backs away from me and is on her feet, trying to pull the blankets around her. "No," is all she says. It sounds like a plea for mercy.

I hold out my hand to her.

"No, don't do this to me." I see another tear streak down her cheek. "You aren't here. You aren't real."

"I am," I say, circling the bed again to stand before her.

She shakes her head viciously. "No. You'll never be with me again. You have a destiny."

I can't think of how to convince her, so I do what I've wanted to do for so long. I kiss her.

The connection is immediate. I feel her soft lips beneath mine, feel her wet tears brush against my own cheeks. The images come fast, weakening my knees - her face as she sees me step off the bus in the third grade, us kissing in the eraser room, running from the Special Unit and jumping over the bridge to escape. I can feel her panic, her fear that I was dying at the hands of Agent Pierce. I feel her love come crashing over me like a tidal wave.

Then I see last week. She's in the congresswoman's office watching me and Tess at the Crashdown. She's sad - she's doing something she doesn't want to do. Someone is forcing her. She isn't alone.

I see him as she sees him - beautiful, wizened with age, attractive, lost. He's me, but not really me.

I hear the words that wreck her heart - "I need you to help me fall out of love with you." I feel her hurt as she comes to my window and tells me she wouldn't die for me. I see her crying on her roof with the person who is me but not really me. It dawns on me that while I was in the Crashdown talking with Maria, she was above us talking to the person who is so like me, but so different. "Fourteen years from now, we are taken over by our enemies."

I see a fortuneteller, promising love. I feel her joy at the unexpected revelation. I feel her curiosity and fascination as she learns of marriage, an elopement, a Sheryl Crow song that will never sound the same to me again. I feel spooked as she learns of a fateful Gomez concert that led to both of our destinies. She doesn't think she's ready, but deep down she knows she is.

She knows about the condom in my wallet.

And I see Kyle, agreeing to not touch her, to do her this favor. She doesn't give him a reason; he accepts that. I realize that maybe Kyle isn't just a jerk. She's in the bathroom getting undressed with the other me. I can feel her pain as she looks at my face through the window. Something in her is dead.

Then I see a dance with the person who is but isn't me. I feel her happiness, then her loss as she twirls and he is gone.

I realize that my knees have finally quit functioning and I have fallen to them on the floor. I can't stop the rush of images that is playing over in my head like a film loop. My love for her grows tenfold, and all I can do is stare at her carpet. She sacrificed marital bliss, a future she wanted more than anything, in order to hurt me into turning to Tess. She cut herself to the quick to save all of us, the whole time letting me believe horrible things about her, jeopardizing her reputation in the process.

"I'm sorry," I hear her say. Her voice is small, and I can tell she knows I saw everything.

She's apologizing to me. She has done the bravest thing I can think of and she is apologizing to me. She had no choice - in some twisted way I am responsible for this. I still can't look at her. My throat is tight and I feel wetness at the corners of my eyes.

Then I feel her hand on my shoulder, warm through my shirt. I close my eyes, let the tears roll silently down my cheeks. She is on the floor, kneeling before me. I look at her.

Her dark eyes are caring, her smile gentle. Her hand is in my hair, soothing me. I have to swallow away the pain I feel just looking at her. She brushes the hair away from my forehead and kisses me there gently, then wraps her arms around me.

Like Tess, she is soft and warm and inviting. And I feel everything for her. I wrap my arms around her thin body and pull her so close I fear I may crush her.

"What are we going to do?" she says against my shoulder.

I pull away from her and take her face between my hands. I don't know what we'll do. I don't have any answers for her. I can't even think straight right now. All I can manage is the uncertain, "We'll figure something out."

It seems to reassure her. I notice her eyes keep dropping to my lips, and I can't seem to keep my eyes from her eyes. They're like black pools, so full of depth, of love. I am still shocked at what she has done. She is so strong. I think she is stronger than I am.

"There are no secrets between us, Liz," I tell her.

She nods, almost looking ashamed.

"But I understand," I add. "I know why you did what you did. But I can't stop loving you. I will never stop loving you."

I see her eyes start to water again. Her lips form the word "sorry" again, but no sound comes out.

I shake my head. "No, you can't be sorry. You did what you had to, Liz, and if the tables were turned, I couldn't have been that strong. I couldn't have done that to you." I give an ironic laugh. "You just saved the world, Liz. Don't be sorry."

She gives a little laugh, and I can feel her cheeks move beneath my hands. I want to kiss her, but as I am moving closer, we hear footsteps in the hallway. My worst fears are all coming true. She pushes me to the floor and motions under the bed. I slide under obediently and hear the bed springs squeak as she climbs back into bed.

There is a light rap on the door. "Lizzie?" Her dad. His voice is soft like his daughter's.

"I'm okay, Daddy," she calls back. "I had a dream. I got up to get some water."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Go back to bed, Dad."

Even the underside of Liz's bed fascinates me. She's exceptionally neat - does she really move her bed out to vacuum? Because there isn't a dust bunny in sight. I spy her journal and my fingers itch to open it, but I know I can't deceive her that way. There isn't much I don't know about her anyway.

Finally, I hear the footsteps retreat down the hallway and haul myself from under the bed. I peer over her mattress toward the door, but before I can register anything, she has me by the neck, her mouth coming down hard on mine. I have to fight off the gasp that tries to escape from my lips at her urgency. She is pulling me by the shirt collar onto the bed with her.

I slide in beside her, my arms encircling her slim waist. Her arms lock around my shoulders. I stop kissing her and just look into her beautiful eyes. I can't tell what she's thinking, but she's smiling at me. I feel one of her hands drop from my shoulders, slide down my spine and stop at my back pocket. I am shocked when she pulls out my wallet. She holds it before me, a devilish look in her eye.

"What's in here?" she asks, her tone bemused.

I shrug, try to keep my voice low. "Money. Driver's license." I kiss her nose. "A picture of you."

"What else?"

"Okay, two pictures of you."

Her expression is amused and she raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Well, there's no point in lying about this one. I know she knows about the condom. I resort to smiling at her. "Just hoping," I clarify. I drop the smile. "I'd never expect you to do anything you didn't want to, Liz."

She kisses me again and I feel my whole world turn inside out. I feel her hands on my waist, tugging on the bottom of my shirt. The cool air of her bedroom makes my skin prickle as she pulls the shirt higher, forcing me to break our kiss and let her pull the shirt over my head. Her eyes settle on my chest - she looks at me like I look at her sometimes. Complete awe. Her fingers are trembling as she touches the skin over my heart, which is now pounding loudly in my ears. I put my hand over hers and press it to my chest.

"It belongs to you," I whisper against her ear.

She gasps at what she feels there. Her round eyes meet mine, then in a flash her undershirt is over her head. Out of the corner of my eye, I see it sail out of view and disappear somewhere in the dark. Now it is my turn to stare in awe. She's perfect, but she looks uncertain. I know she is afraid she is too small; I've seen this when we've connected in the heat of passion before. But she's not too small. She's just perfect, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying.

My own fingers are trembling as I reach for her, feel her smooth skin against the palm of my hand. Now it is my turn to gasp, and I kiss her like there is no tomorrow. Her small hands have worked their way to the zipper of my pants. I catch her hand and meet her eyes once again.

I ask her the same questions I asked her so long ago when we were so close to this once before. "Are you sure? Are you scared?"

She nods yes to both questions. I kiss her forehead. For me, the fear is gone - I know that I will not hurt her or make her sick because the person who was but wasn't me had been doing this with her for 14 years. All I feel now is need. The need to hold her, to kiss her, to make love to her. I will be strong enough for both of us.

I touch the waistband of her boxers, my eyes never leaving hers. I roll onto my back and pull her on top of me. I use my hands to pull the boxers past the curve of her hips and down her legs. When I can no longer reach, I use my toes to pull them the rest of the way. She kicks them from her feet and lays completely nude against me. I run my hands down her back, across her round bottom. Her dark hair falls against my chest, tickling with its silky texture. She bites her lip.

"Please," is all she says.

I gently roll her off me so I can reach my zipper. I arch my back and pull my jeans and boxers from my body. And then I reach for her.

Our eyes are locked the entire time. I'm not sure I ever blink. I just watch the expressions cross her face - first the wince of pain, then curiosity, then amazement, and finally love. I can feel what she is feeling, and I know she can feel what I am feeling. I may be the only man on earth to experience the female orgasm, and it drains me.

Afterward, we hold each other. We both cry. My body aches, but it is a pleasant ache. I understand why the future version of me tried to stop this from happening - I will never get enough of this. I will never leave her side. I will never feel complete if I am not with her. She is my destiny, not Tess.

I will deal with Tess. She isn't unreasonable. I will explain what I saw when I connected with Liz - well, only the parts she needs to know. She has to stay or we're all doomed - and that includes her. If nothing else, Tess is selfish and she will understand the value of self-preservation.