Now, I hate the night.

Max left me in the night. He left me and our daughter for a planet he had never seen, to fight for a race of extra-terrestrial people that he had know way of knowing still existed. And with him, he took the light.

We left Roswell when I was nineteen -- only seven years ago, but it feels like forever. Max, Maria, Michael, Isabel, Alex, Kyle, Tess, and I walked out of our little town, always to look back, but never able to walk her streets again. The Skins knew where we were, wanted to kill us, would have killed us if we had stayed. We were inexperienced and vulnerable to their attacks. We had no choice but to run. So we grabbed as much stuff as we could -- clothes, food, money, things that we could pawn -- and said good-bye to our parents as if we were going off to the movies. Little did we know that we were jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

We never realized how much we depended on the security of our families, the subtle guidance and advice of Sheriff Valenti, our home town advantage. We weren't prepared for all the a hardships of living on our own, day by day, without any reassurance for the future. The Skins followed us closely. We didn't know who to trust, what tactical maneuvers could save us. If they had realized the mistakes we made, they would have given up laughing. But they didn't know, and stalked us relentlessly.

After a few months, and more than a few close calls, Max decided that it would be best if we broke into pairs. One human to one alien. More inconspicuous, more chance of being rescued if captured. On our last day together, we formed a connection so that we would always know when one of us was in trouble. In case someone had to leave town before leaving a message at designated check points. There were tears shed -- by whom I don't remember. Promises were made -- the details long forgotten, but the point is that they were made. And then we went our separate ways, never considering that it would be the last time we would all see each other. Michael and Maria went to the north, Tess and Kyle to the east, Alex and Isabel going south, and Max and I traveled west.

I watch my daughter sleeping in the back of an old, abandoned pick-up truck with no battery or windows, her long, dark hair matted under her head and a dark smudge of dirt wiped across one pudgy cheek. I kick the rubble in the alley until I uncover a cracked rear-view mirror on top of old coffee grounds and a piece of soggy cardboard. I pick it up and begin to apply blood red lipstick and black mascara, ignoring the dark bags under each eye. I could never hate my daughter for the troubles that she has caused me. It's not her fault that she inherited her father's other-worldly powers. She's only four. She doesn't know what she's doing when she changes the color of her clothes or spills candy machines all over the floor of Walmarts and Safeways.

We all have children, despite the added danger and injustice of having a helpless baby in our care. Michael and Maria have a son who has never met his father. The hybrids left before he was born. Three years, two months, five days, and today, to be exact. Alex and Isabel have six year old twins, one boy and one girl. It was a shock to everyone that they were the first to have children. The mutual dependency of our situation caused their relationship to blossom at lightning's pace. Tess and Kyle had a daughter the same year that Max and I gave birth to ours. Their baby only survived a few months. In a way, she is the luckiest of us all

Their baby will never have to face the hardships of building a new life in a new city only to drop it all at the slightest hint of danger. She will never have to live with the knowledge that she is hunted, along with everyone else she loves and holds dear. She will never know how long the road can be when there is nothing waiting for you at the other end.

We have all moved every few months or weeks. I have lived in five cities, eleven towns, and two secluded backwater farms since leaving Roswell. Most of them have been in the last four years. We don't have to worry about the Skins anymore. They went back to the home planet to fight in the name of Khivar. Now we have to worry about the government.

The special unit isn't dead anymore. It was reborn, like a phoenix rising from the ashes with flames so blinding and horrible that the inferior sun cowered away, leaving all the world to fend itself in eternal night. Now there are dozens of Agent Pierces tailing us, dying to sink their claws into a real live alien -- babies or no, they are still labeled dangerous in the computers at Washington. They don't realize that our children are not full-bloods, just as they didn't realize that Max, Isabel, Michael, and Tess were not full-bloods. It would not make a difference either way. It doesn't matter to the agents who or what they catch, as long as they have a body at the end of their scalpels.

I miss them. Max and the others. They were my family. At least here on Earth, I can still feel Maria, Kyle, and Alex. But the others. . . I hate not knowing if they are in trouble, dying, in need of my help. I hate not knowing if Max is wounded, lying in his own filth, wasting away towards death. Or, in some ways worse, fine, in the arms of a beautiful alien woman who caresses away any thoughts or memories of who he left behind on Earth.

I hate them. I hate how they left us here with no way of contacting them, of letting them know how much we still need them. I hate how my baby has to grow up living in alleys and back lanes -- looking over her shoulder every time there is the slightest sound that could have easily been caused by the wind as it could have by a person -- because I was blessed and cursed enough to be drawn into something larger than Roswell, New Mexico by someone who could never truly be safe. I hate how Max left me to raise our daughter on my own without any defenses.

But as much as I miss and hate them, I need them even more. I need them to come back and help Kyle, Maria, Alex and I out of this hell we are living in. I need Max to whisper sweet nothings at daybreak and hold me when life becomes too tough, too bold and overwhelming. I need Max. And so does she.

My daughter doesn't know how to control her powers. They can and do activate themselves at any moment, in any place, without warning. We move around constantly, before the rumors surrounding her can reach the wrong person. Her hands are like two ticking time bombs just waiting to explode. She needs his guidance to learn how to control herself. Maria and Alex have the same problem with their little ones, although the twins are beginning to learn control now that they understand what is going on and recognize the power building in their fingertips.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

Jillian sits up in the pick-up, staring up at me with innocent golden-brown eyes. Max's eyes. I swallow the ever-growing lump in my throat and force a cheery smile on my face.

"I know, Jilly Beans. We'll eat after Mommy goes to work."

Jillian picks up a ratty old teddy bear with only one arm and an eye that hangs down to it's nose that I stole from a church auction somewhere in Georgia as I go back to applying my make-up. "Harry doesn't want you to go to work. He's afraid to be left alone in the dark."

I kiss Harry when my daughter holds him up for examination, as if I could see how much the stuffed animal wants me to stay. "You know I have to go to work, Honey Bear. I promise I will bring back some dinner when I'm done."

With one last look in the mirror, I toss it back into the garbage it came from. I lift Jillian onto the iron fire escape attached to the building beside us. I blow her a quick kiss, which she catches in her tiny fists and places in the pocket of her overalls by her heart. Jillian climbs up the latter with practiced ease, and I watch even after she is swallowed by the darkness, until I am sure that she is hiding in a safe place. As safe as she will ever be. I rub my fingers over my temples roughly before walking out into the alley.

This is what I hate most of all. Leaving my sweet, innocent little girl all alone. But I will do everything and anything to keep her safe. Because she is the only thing that makes the night bearable anymore. But it won't always be this way. When Jillian learns to control her powers -- when she's not a risk to those around her -- I will find the others. Maria, Kyle, Alex, the kids. They are still out there. We will be together again, hybrids be damned.

"Hey, handsome, you looking for a good time?"