He sat on the sofa that Mr. Evans had given to him the day he'd been given the freedom and responsibility to make his own way in the world and she wrapped her arms around him. She held him and there was a wave of emotions coming off her--tangled, sticky and so human, and he opened himself up to all of them, to all that she offered him. She gave him the strength he needed to face the changes that were coming, and he will love her forever because of it.

He stops his car at a stucco house on a block filled with stucco houses. This is Max's dream. A nice house in a nice neighborhood on a quiet street. It's a dream that a lot of humans have, and Michael is finally able to realize that for Max, this life is his dream. He is able to accept that--that Max's dreams aren't the same as his. He is able to understand.

Max comes out of the house first and Michael gets out of the car. They look at each other in silence for a moment.

"Michael."

"Max."

"How are you?"

"Ok. How are you?"

"Fine"

Silence.

Max shifts a little, uneasy. When he was younger, this would have been Michael's nightmare. He and Max with nothing to say to each other, nothing to argue about. Max was the person he depended on. Max was, he thought, the key to finding out who he was. Now he knows that he simply has something in common with Max, a fluke of the universe and alien genetics and a shared past. Max is not who he is, and he doesn't have to try to be him. He can just be Michael.

"Where are all the chairs I sent you? Don't tell me you gave them all away."

Max smiles at that and Michael relaxes. Max understands too.

"Come on inside" Max tells him. "Let me show you around."

He doesn't see Liz until the end of the house tour. The house is nice--quiet and soothing and full of tiny loving touches. They have no children and he suspects that the lack of them is the only grief in Max and Liz's life. But he knows they are both strong enough to cope with it.

Max smiles at Liz when she walks into the living room and Michael watches as she stretches up on tiptoe to kiss Max's cheek. "Tim called about that proposal. Sounded important."

Max excuses himself to go make a call; a business call. Max's dream, Michael thinks--to be utterly normal, utterly human. Max has found what he always wanted. He smiles at Liz.

She sits down next to him on the sofa, leans over and takes his hand in hers. She smiles at him. "I'm glad you came." she tells him. He squeezes her hand and lets himself feel the love she has for Max, for him, for the world. He leans over and kisses her cheek; allowing the scent of her skin wash over him. "So am I," he whispers to her.

They sit in quiet, comfortable silence for a few minutes until he is ready, until he has gathered his courage for his final stop. She walks him to the door and tells him that Main Street has been blocked off because of construction. He gives her a hug and whispers his love to her. "Does Max know how lucky he is?" There are tears in her eyes when he pulls away and gets in his car but she merely says, "Drive safely."

He waves to her after he backs down the driveway and watches her standing in the driveway from his rearview mirror. He looks forward, at the road ahead of him, when he can't see her in the distance anymore.

One stop left. It won't take him long to get there.

** Maria-- Atropus

Maria was the one he loved too much.

He fell in love with her in a motel off Route 285 and he didn't expect it. He didn't ever expect to find someone that he could love, really love. He loved Isabel and Liz for reasons; he loved them for ideas and principles and for complicated things that he sometimes puzzled over. But he loved Maria just because she was Maria and it terrified him. His love for her had no definition, no reason. It just was. And he loved her endlessly for that alone; he loved her just because he could, because he did.

He thought that he would never find someone who could understand his dreams of what he wanted; he never thought he could find someone who would want him enough to put up with him. But Maria did. She loved him. She loved him too much, because she put her dreams of what she wanted on hold for him.

She wanted--oh, she wanted them to be a pair, she wanted them to be something like Max and Liz. She wanted them to have meaningful glances and shared memories and little jokes that all couples had. He wanted that too, but he had no idea how to give her that. And more than her dreams, he wanted his own. And when he was younger, his dream was only to find out where he was from and to return there. He saw no future on Earth because he didn't want one.

But he loved Maria too much to let her go, so he held onto his dreams and tried to give her hers. He tried in a hundred different ways, he tried and he usually failed. It upset him, that he could never give her exactly what she wanted. It hurt him that she stayed anyway because he always felt that she knew she could do better. He knew she stayed because she loved him so much that she put her dreams on hold for his and he was young enough to be glad because of that.

One October morning--high school was over, and Maria was living with him--he woke up and realized he was killing her.

She was going to college and working and she was tired all the time and she seemed sad sometimes. He would come home from work or a day spent searching for more clues to who he was and where he was from and he find her sitting at the kitchen table staring at her hands. She would look up and smile but what was in her eyes scared him.

He woke up one morning, one October morning, and looked at her while she slept. She used to fall asleep with a smile on her face and wake up bouncing and joyous and content. Now he was no longer sure what she looked like when she fell asleep (when did he start taking those smiles for granted?) and in the morning her steps were slower and her smile never quite reached her eyes.

His dream wasn't hers, but she stayed anyway. She knew that what she wanted wasn't what he wanted and she put her wishes on hold because she loved him. He looked at her that morning, looked at her drawn face, noticed that there was a sad cast to her mouth, that she slept with her hands curled into fists and her body drawn up tight and he thought he was killing her.

He loved her too much, and he was ruining her life because he wasn't letting her live it. He reached over and touched her hair. She shifted and looked at him sleepily. "What is it?" She always knew when change was coming.

"Maria," he told her, and he couldn't look at her why he spoke; he knew that if he did, he would stop and he would take her in his arms and she would welcome him and he would let her and the light in her eyes would dim more as she forgot her dreams and just lived for his. And how could he do that to her? What kind of love would he be giving her? "You deserve more than this, than me. You deserve to be happy. You should get what you want instead of waiting for me to find what I want. I'm leaving Roswell, today. And I don't want you to come with me."

He turned and looked at her then and she cried and told him she loved him and that she didn't understand why he didn't believe in them more. And if he'd listened to her words he might have cracked and stayed and broken her open more. But he looked into her eyes instead and he saw a glimmer of something there. It might have been hope, it might have been fear. But it was hers, and he wanted her to have it.

He said good-bye to everyone, gave and received hugs, wiped Isabel's tears away, told Liz he'd be careful. He held Maria and told he loved her and that when he came back, he wanted to see her happy. And then he left Roswell and went to find his dream.

**

Maria lives outside Roswell. Not too far out of town, just on the edges of it. She lives in a strange house; a hodgepodge of windows and wood and he can see that it was built with care and love and he guesses that her husband probably had it built just for her, that he sat down with her and listened and built what she wanted because he loves her and he wanted her to have her dream.

He parks his car on the street and walks up the driveway. He looks for a doorbell and realizes there isn't one. Instead there's a knocker, a strange bronze piece that looks like it was made by an amateur metal-smith. He smiles. Amy DeLuca must have another hobby.

He knocks on the door and waits. After a moment, it opens and Michael is face to face with the man who has given Maria her dream.

"We just came home from the hospital a few days ago." Kyle tells him. "But I guess you probably knew that."

No hello, no greeting. Michael smiles. Kyle is as guarded and as prickly as he always was and he feels a shadow of resentment that he carried for the boy that Kyle once was, the sheriff's son. He never wanted Kyle to be a part of their group but he yet ended up in it anyway. "Hello, Kyle."

Kyle snorts. "Whatever. Maria is in the back." He opens the door and Michael walks inside. "She's down the hall. Last door on the right."

Michael starts to walk down the hallway.

"Hey. Michael."

He turns back to look at Kyle.

"She'll be glad to see you." Kyle offers up hesitantly. A peace offering. A recognition of the role Michael once played in Maria's life.

He smiles at Kyle and the shadow he carries flees. Kyle loves Maria, he has given her the dream she wanted, and it is what Michael has wanted for her, what he could never give her. "Thanks."

Maria is sitting in a rocking chair. It is one of the chairs that he made at Pam's, years ago, when he first started really working with wood. He can tell because one of the rockers tilts a little.

She doesn't look surprised to see him at all. She just smiles at him. "Hello, Michael."

"Hey."

"This is Janet," she tells him. She lifts the baby up towards him, and Michael hold out his arms, takes Janet cautiously, carefully.

The baby is red and tiny and its eyes are closed. He sees nothing of Maria or Kyle in her but he looks at Maria's tired and radiant face and says, "She has your nose."

Maria laughs. "You've gotten a lot better at being polite, Michael. A couple of people have said that to me. But you know what? I don't think she looks like Kyle or me. I think she just looks like Janet."

He grins at her. "Ok, yeah."

She stands up he hands Janet to her. She bends and presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead and puts her in a crib. Maria motions for him to follow her, and they leave the room. He sneaks a quick look at Janet right before the door closes. He sees a tiny hand resting against a blanket and he feels a surge of love for someone he doesn't even know, someone who will always carry a little piece of Maria inside her.

Maria taps him on the shoulder and he looks at her. "I have something for you. Hold on a second."

He stands there, in the hallway outside Janet's room, looking at the carpeting on the floor, marveling at the world that Maria and Kyle have created for themselves. "This is yours," she tells him, and he looks at her, a little startled. "I thought you might want it someday, so I saved it."

It's the communicator. Its surface is smooth and polished and he once felt that who he was rested inside it, he once felt that it held all the answers he needed. He runs his hand along the orb and realizes that the only secret it guards is all that is left of the boy he once was. The sphere is silent; it has no messages, no answers for him anymore.

"Thanks," he tells her.

Kyle comes into the hallway and walks over to Maria. He looks at her for a moment and what he sees in her face reassures him, relaxes him. "She's sleeping?"

Maria nods. "Yep. Finally."

Kyle sighs and reaches out, touches her shoulder. "I gotta finish working on the car. Call me if you need anything, ok. And don't lift anything or pick up anything or..."

"Honey," Maria says. "I'll be careful, I promise. But I'll take you up on that offer when the bathrooms need to be cleaned."

Kyle laughs and walks back down the hallway, whistling a little.

Maria looks over at Michael. "Come on in the kitchen" she tells him. "I think we have food. The neighbors brought over a ton of stuff because they all know that Kyle can't cook."

"I heard that!" Kyle's voice floats down the hallway and Maria grins.

Michael sees her smile and remembers the girl she once was. He is glad to see that girl's smile again.

**

In the kitchen, Maria tells him to sit down and he does, watches her as she fixes a plate of food and brings it over to him. He starts to eat and she snaps her fingers. "Wait! I almost forgot."

He looks at her and she goes over to the counter and comes back with a bottle of Tabasco sauce. She smiles at him and he takes the bottle from her, dumps some of the sauce on his food. "Thanks."

They talk while he eats. She teaches music at the elementary school and Michael listens, fascinated, as she tells him stories about her students and her life. He tells her about Pam and John and his flight to New Mexico. He finishes eating and she leans over and touches his hand.

For a moment, time falls away and he's a boy again, sitting in his apartment, waiting for her to speak as they eat cereal together in the morning. What will she ask him? What will she want? Will he be able to do what she asks or will he only try a little because it will keep her with him and he can't let her go?

"Are you happy Michael?" She used to ask him that question once in a while. He sometimes said no, he sometimes said maybe, and towards the end, he always said yes and never felt that he meant it.

"Yes," he tells her, and he smiles because for the first time ever, he means it. He finally sees that she only wants his happiness and nothing more.

She looks down at their hands for a moment and then back up at him. "You were right, you know. What you said all those years ago--about how I deserved more, about how I deserved to be happy. About how I deserved to get what I wanted instead of following you while you tried to figure out what you wanted. I just thought you should know that."

He curls his fingers around hers and leans in. Up close, age has started its march across her features. There is a little gray in her hair, and there are tiny lines radiating out from the corner of her eyes. She isn't the girl she was, and he isn't the boy he used to be. "Thank you."

Once he loved her too much, and she loved him too much. But he's lucky--she's found what she's wanted and he can see her dream reflected in her eyes, he can smell it in the warmth of this home, her home. He can see it in the way she looks at her husband, who has just come back into the kitchen.

Kyle looks at their hands and smiles. "Thank God someone is finally eating that casserole that Mrs. Davis brought over."

Michael laughs and tells them that he's got to go. Kyle says, "Glad you stopped by" and Michael thinks he actually means it. He shakes Kyle's hand and the three of them walk to the door. Maria walks down the driveway with him and stops at her mailbox.

"Michael?"

He turns to look at her.

She smiles at him, hesitantly. "You forgot something." She holds her hand out and the orb blinks up at him.

He takes it and looks at it for a moment. "Thanks."

She nods and looks at his car. "Ugh! This is terrible. Let me guess, Max rented it for you."

He laughs and she grins at him. He gets in his car and drives away, watching her in the rearview mirror. Kyle comes down the driveway and reaches his hand out towards her. She takes it and the two of them walk back to the house, their house, where their daughter sleeps.

**

He drives out into the desert. It used to be his favorite place. It was his first memory, and it was, he thought, his only connection to his home, his real home. His only connection to his dream. He used to picture himself in the desert, waiting for an armada of spaceships to arrive, and then farewell to the sand, to the Earth, and then, finally, a journey to where he was supposed to be.

He parks his car and walks out into the desert. The sand is more slippery than he expected--he is used to the firm soil in Virginia and the desert is not as familiar as it once was. He smiles at the thought.

He places the orb on the sand and looks at it for a moment. He raises his hand a little and the sand shifts, stirs. It moves over the orb, sinks it into the ground. Maybe one day someone who needs it will find it. Maybe it will just lie there, resting in silence forever. Maybe...maybe it doesn't matter.

He sits down on the ground, the warmth of the sand soaking into his body. He listens to all the quiet of the Earth. Its arms are open to him, and it calls to him, whispers "home."

It is home.

He is home.

It is his dream and he finally realizes it. He finally sees it. He finally understands.