"I swear to god, Max, if he thinks we're taking another road trip," Isabel huffed.

"Don't worry, Isabel, we'll bring your boyfriend this time," she smacked her brother playfully but had smiled at the thought of Alex.

The casement window slid open and Michael grinned at Isabel and Max. "I used them, my powers. I can control them now!" He lifted Isabel's pink bunny slippers off her feet and set them to hopping in front of their shocked faces.

"What happened?"

He paced back and forth, Isabel's slippers mimicking his movements in midair, "I dunno, I was just...I wanted to move the painting but it was still wet and I didn't want to touch it and then it just moved. I didn't even have to think about it. And then I could just do everything. Max, look." He shoved his right hand before them. I cut it, and I healed it."

Max tried to contain his hope. He knew that Michael hated not being in control of his powers. While not exactly jealous of Max and Isabel, he knew his pride was hurt. "Michael, is it okay if we test this. I mean, I believe you. I'm totally proud of you. But let's get to know your limitations just...in case."

Surprising, Michael agreed. He was confident in his abilities, now. Isabel hugged him, smiling, then got back to business, "You woke me up, Michael."

"Oh, really," he took in her rumpled hair and pajamas.

"So let's start off with dreamwalking. If anything happens, Max can pull us out."

"Sure, safety first."

He and Isabel laid down on Max's bed. After the pillows had been arranged to her satisfaction, Isabel whispered, "See you there."

Michael found himself in a blue room, not unlike Isabel's. The bed was a little bigger and it was much messier. Her walk-in closet was wide open but there was nothing in there but jeans, shirts, and sweat pants. Inspired, he looked at her vanity. One tube of mascara and a lip gloss, but none of the various lotions and vials that she usually stockpiled.

There were framed photographs of her and Max in Colorado, the entire Evans family, and one of Alex. There were even some stuck in the mirror. More of Max and the Evans family. There was even one with him. He hardly ever had pictures taken, no one ever asked. But this one, he remembered. The first day of sophomore year, Michael couldn't sleep and had walked over to their house. Before hitching a ride with them, Mr. Evans had requested a picture. Max had groaned, apparently they did this every year. He'd stood off of to the side, trying not to look like an intrusion. Mr. Evans fumbled with the timer before joining his wife and children; he looked surprised when he Michael leaning against the jeep. Gesturing, he indicated a spot beside him. And so here it was, a photograph of parents sending their children off to school. Only, it looked like he was the third child. Like he belonged. He whispered, "Like I was family."

Arms enclosed him from behind, "Not like, Michael, you are family. You're my brother," she kissed his cheek, "don't you know that?"

She moved in front of him, holding his hand, "Max is the annoying big brother who acts tries to act all grown up. I'm the spoiled brat little girl princess who gets whatever she wants from her big brothers."

He whispered again, "Brothers." He'd often thought that nothing would change if he'd never been born. Isabel and Max might still be aliens, but they'd still have each other. He didn't fit in the equation, he was excessive; he made things harder.

"Yeh, you're the middle child who doesn't want to be bratty or anal retentive."

He laughed, "Okay, brat."

***

"No, Agnes. You cannot have another break," Liz gestured towards the floor, "the place is packed. Besides, cigarettes can kill you."

Maria grimaced from behind the older waitress and mouthed, "We should be so lucky."

Liz stifled her laughter as Agnes walked away. Liz was sure Agnes would insult some customer before the hour was over, but she couldn't lose another waitress right now. Her parents had left for a restaurant convention in Oklahoma, leaving her in charge.

They couldn't have chosen a worse weekend. Two huge tour groups had come into town last night and Casa de Enchilada, the only other non-food chain establishment was being renovated. Liz had struggled to handle everything with cool efficiency before breaking down and begging Alex to bus tables.

And then, suddenly, she felt like she could tackle another influx. Looking up, she stared into the eyes of Max Evans. She still hadn't gotten over his rejection. They had gotten close, even sharing one mind-blowing kiss, so when Maria and Michael had hooked up she had asked Max, why they couldn't, too. She'd never expected him to let her go.

He'd loved her for years. But, maybe, now that he knew her, he realized the Liz he'd fallen in love with...the reality didn't stack up.

She knew better now. She could be patient. Wait for him to understand he didn't need to protect her; it was enough to love her. So, they hadn't started at square one, they were friends -best friends.

So when she saw how carefree and happy the three Czechoslovakians were, she couldn't help but let go of the chip on her shoulder.

"Hey guys, what's up? You're all looking less paranoid than usual."

Max, Isabel, and even Michael laughed. Michael was the biggest surprise. He gestured expansively, "Three Tenth Planet special and cherry cokes on me."

"What's the occasion?" She'd never seen Michael is such a good mood.

He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "I can control my powers!"

So that's why he was acting like a little kid. She hugged him, "Congratulations!" Then pulled back as if burnt, "Um, sorry, Michael, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay, Liz. Thanks for being so great about it. You're not bad for a...not being a Czechoslovakian."

Max, Michael, and Isabel shared smiles. The entire day had been a joy. Playing around with their powers and acting like a family, without looking over their shoulders at strange noises. Max smiled especially wide, happy that Michael was being nice to Liz. It meant a lot to her and when she delivered the order to the cook, Maria could tell she was glowing.

"Hey, Liz, Agnes drop dead?"

"No, umm...," Liz wasn't sure what to tell Maria. She'd been avoiding Michael since the rave and had returned, slowly, to her old nature. Or, maybe not avoiding, Maria had also returned to dancing and singing. Liz had always been a little jealous of Maria's talents but knew that Maria sometimes envied her studiousness. It didn't matter in the long run, they had each other. She had the two best friends in the whole world. So she made her choice, "Michael can control his powers now."

The blonde's eyes widened and Liz was afraid for a moment. Then Maria smiled a tiny smile and suggested, "This is big. Great. Your parents are gone for the weekend, why don't you have a celebratory get together tonight?"

Liz hugged Maria, "That is such a great idea! I'll go tell them!" Orders in hand, Liz approached the three plus Alex who was joking with Isabel.

"C'mon, Is, Liz could use the help. Besides, you look really hot in the uniform."

"You saw that?" Isabel blushed. "Thanks, Liz."

"So what are you guys doing tonight?"

Max quirked an eyebrow, "I was thinking high-speed chase with a bunch of FBI agents in tow, but if you think you can top that, be my guest."

"I was thinking we could have a Michael party."

Michael blushed and ducked his head uncharacteristically. He'd been so obsessed with painting and the right ratio of egg yolk to pigment lately he hadn't been around the gang much. Instead of being insulted, they were acting, well, like friends. Even Liz, who had gone all Sigourney Weaver on him. Most of them were acting like friends, anyhow. Friends. Two human friends and a...broken heart?

"Oh, that's right, Liz," a familiar voice cut in. "Take all the credit."

Max, Michael, and Liz looked up in surprise. Alex and Isabel shared a knowing glance and handsqueeze. "Liz's hands were full so I thought I'd go ahead and bring these over." She put three bottles of Tabasco on the tabletop and walked away leaving the stunned in her wake.

***

Maria let her body flow, sharply now, then smooth. Everytime she danced, it was sweet. She didn't now why she'd stopped. To unconsciously pick up on a hook here and now what to do. No confusion or question of right. Just the feeling of energy and lyric. She stepped into a twist or swing without fear of consequence because there was no way for this to be anything but good.

Michael watched her, reeling. He had kissed that length of arm, left his mark on that expanse of back, he knew she could burn but never imagined that she could exhibit such sense of grace. Yet here she was and all he could think was, "You cannot tell the dancer from the dance."

And then her eyes flew open in rage and he realized he had spoken aloud.

He tried to explain, "Liz called me -told me to pick you up-"

"Did she mention the part about spying on me?"

"No, I didn't mean to, it was just so-"

"Private."

He understood. "I'm sorry, Maria. I never meant to disturb you, but I couldn't stop watching you. You were hypnotic, beautiful."

"Who are you and what have you done with spaceboy?"

And then she smiled and he knew it would be all right.

"So you thought it was beautiful?"

"Yeh." He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. They were empty now; he hadn't replaced the bottle of cypress oil. "So, uh, how long have you been dancing?"

"All my life. But just started up again, technically. And it's like I don't understand why I ever stopped. Dancing gives me this whole sense of...I'm not sure I know how to explain it, ya know."

"I know. It's how I feel when I paint. It's special."

They shared a smile. Michael crowed inside, he'd missed this. He had his powers, he had friends, it was a day for brightness. And maybe, just maybe Maria and him could work out now. Truthfully, he'd missed her. However he tried to deny it, there was something about her that important. She had this strength you couldn't ignore, and she listened to him as if he was significant. She made him feel good.

And then it all clicked for him; didn't he deserve her? He did.

He cupped her face and pulled her in before she could react and the feel of her body still wet with sweat was electric. Her mouth was still as soft and giving, she opened her mouth to him, he responded, and then she bit his tongue. Hard.

She was out of his arms and furious.

"Godash," his tongue was bleeding. Taking a moment to heal it, he said, "God damn!"

"Oh, you're mad at me?"

"What was that?"

"Make up your mind, Michael. You can't just push me away and then kiss me like that. No, you know what, don't make up your mind. I don't need your opinion. I am so tired of this shit, Michael. So tired."

Michael was stunned. Maria didn't cuss. 'Swearing is just being lazy.' Maria never swore at him, she baited and fired salvos, because she cared enough about him to be creative. Maria obviously didn't care anymore.

"No, it's not like that," he swallowed his pride, "I want to hold you. I've always wanted to hold you. I just don't want to hold you down."

"Oh, that's fucking rich. Did you drag yourself away from Ulysses long enough to watch 90210?"

"Why are you being like this?"

"I don't know, maybe, because you're an asshole."

His expression was pained, "Look, what I said at the soap factory. I'm sorry. We can still work things out."

"It's too late for that, spaceboy, I already forgave you for that. You want to be alone, go be alone by your own damn self. Just because you leave me bruised, doesn't mean I'm gonna crawl off and die offstage."

"That's why we belong together. You're a fighter. We're of the same ilk."

"No. We're not," she looked him in the eye. "Whatever ilk you're from, I'm confident I'm from a different one." And then she sneered, "Oh, did I say 'ilk,' because I meant species."

"Maria," he looked deep into her eyes, trying to convey his need for her.

She spat at him, "Save the soulful stares to Max, I'm not Liz."

"You've got that right," he muttered under his breath. He would make her understand. "They have that whole let's fall into each other gently mentality. I like what we have. We don't have to be starcross'd."

"What we have?" She smiled, feral, "Don't get all intense, Michael. I'm only sixteen, I want to date, not be involved. I'm young and I plan to enjoy it. That's the way it's gotta be."

"So we date, I can handle that."