Michael gave a groan. New year, same story about how Max found Michael. Michael decided to spice up the story a bit. "I was working in this grocery store, you see."

Max looked at him in amusement as Maria recoiled, a confused expression on her pretty face.

"And Maxwell here, he comes in looking all suspicious," Michael continued.

"Grocery store?" Maria asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "When you were 9?"

"Times were rough - Hank was laid off," Michael explained. "Someone had to pay for his beer and cigarettes." Max looked to the floor to hide his grin. "Anyway, if you don't mind not interrupting me. So Max comes in looking all sneaky and I see him heading over to the condiments section. Looking mighty guilty, he was. Then I see the little bastard pocket a bottle of Tabasco."

Liz decided to play along. "Did you turn him in?"

Michael shook his head. "Nah. I just walked up to him and said point-blank, 'What do you think you're doing?' And he said - what did you say, Max?"

Max scrambled mentally to come up with an appropriate response. "I told you to go to hell."

Liz stifled her laugh at the thought - like Max Evans would ever be rude enough to tell anyone to go to hell.

Michael nodded. "That's right. You told me to go to hell and I said hell was just about as hot as the Tabasco I saw you put in your pocket. Yeah, now I remember. Anyway, I knew that he had to be pretty desperate to be lifting hot sauce, so I started to get suspicious."

Maria couldn't take it any longer. "Wait - this never happened. Tell us about the fight in the schoolyard, about Max running to help you. That's what happened."

Michael looked at her indignantly. "How do you know? You weren't there. This is what happened." He cleared his throat. "So, I just called him on it. I said, 'You're one of us, aren't you?' And he said - what did you say, Max?"

Max perked up again. "Oh, uh, nothing. You scared me and I bolted."

Michael slapped his knee. "That's right. I forgot. But I ran after him and cornered him and made him confess. Then we had cocktails."

"Cocktails?" Maria's nose wrinkled. "When you were 9? Liz, are you believing this?" But Liz had buried her head in Max's shoulder and was shaking uncontrollably with laughter. Maria glanced at her friends, then let out a disgusted sigh. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

At that all three of them burst out laughing at Maria's expense. Michael put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her head.

Liz got up and moved to Michael's small kitchen. She pulled open the oven door and peered inside. "Okay, guys," she called over her shoulder. Looks like it's ready." She pulled the steaming pan of lasagna from the oven and kicked the door shut.

The others moved to the small table Michael had set up in one corner of the flat. Maria had decorated the table with a nice tablecloth and napkins she'd borrowed from her mother; for an added touch, she'd placed a vase of fresh flowers in the center. Liz brought the lasagna to the table and they ate, talking amicably.

Later in the evening, Michael brought out his photo album. He didn't have many pictures from his youth as Hank was usually too busy drinking and womanizing to be concerned with documenting his son's younger years, but he had a lot of pictures from their early and later teen years after he'd acquired his own camera. Michael and Max sat together on the couch and flipped through the album together. At the first sight of Isabel, Max actually felt his heart tear and his hand went to his chest. She was so beautiful, so young, so happy in those pictures. Those photos were from a time when she told him she loved him and held him when he woke up with a nightmare. Those images were from a time before she hated him.

"Iz has always been pretty, hasn't she?" Liz asked, trying to relieve Max's pain.

Max nodded as his fingers touched Isabel's image. "Beautiful," he whispered. He met Michael's gaze and gave a weak smile.

"Enough pictures," Michael decided, slamming the album shut.

Max jumped slightly at the snap of the covers. "Michael, that's not necessary."

"But it is," Michael said as he rose to his feet and went to the refrigerator. "Because my girlfriend - beautiful in her own right - made us a wonderful dessert. Who wants pie?" ______________________________________________________________________

Liz looked at the stars above her and wondered where Max's planet was. Could it been seen from here? She crossed her eyes to make the stars blur together and giggled at the result.

"What's so funny?" Max asked.

Liz rolled toward him, her long hair fanning out behind her on the blanket. They had left Michael's at a rather late hour, and had ended up in the desert instead of going home. They'd made love, slow, gentle, tear-inducing love. Liz didn't think she'd ever felt more complete than when she was with Max. She loved how being loved by him was both a painful and pleasant experience. Sometimes she cried out of the sheer joy of being with him; tonight was one of those nights.

"Nothing," she answered him. She reached over and touched the side of his face. "I love you, Max."

He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. "And you know I love you." He thought of her strange behavior earlier in the jeep. "Liz, can I ask you something?"

Liz nodded against the blanket they'd spread on the ground.

"Earlier, when Bob broke down. You kind of weirded on me there for a minute."

Liz hoped she didn't give away her fear. "It was nothing. I panicked for a minute - you know, thinking I was stranded." Had he bought it?

Max stared at her intently for a moment, then nodded his head. "Okay, if that's all it was."

"It was. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." He gave her a gentle smile.

Liz gently pushed him onto his back and sat astride him. "Now," she began. "If the Q&A is over, how about an encore?" _____________________________________________________________________

Isabel milled around Jackson's studio. She hoped she didn't appear as nervous as she was. She'd put on her favorite black leather pants, a red sweater, and her black leather jacket. She let her long locks hang loose.

"You have a wonderful place," she told Jackson, who was readying his camera equipment.

"Thanks," he said from behind a tripod. "This is my life, my passion." He glanced up at Isabel. "God," he said, "you're absolutely stunning."

Isabel laughed. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, glancing at the various props that littered the room.

"Nothing yet. I want to do some portraits first, I think." He scratched his full head of hair. "Yeah, that'll be good." He gestured to a stool in front of a blue screen. "Just have a seat."

Isabel sat on the stool, her long legs bent too drastically to be comfortable.

Jackson laughed lightly and walked over to her. "Stand up," he said, still laughing. "My last subject didn't quite have your height." He flipped the stool over and adjusted it, then put it back upright so Isabel could sit. He eyed her, brushed her hair over her shoulders. Then he slid his hands inside of her jacket and Isabel felt her body stiffen. Suddenly her whole body felt like it was awake, alive. But he was only trying to remove the coat. "Let's try it without the jacket first, shall we?"

As Jackson took the pictures, Isabel felt more at ease. She vamped for the camera - pouting, smiling, frowning. She really enjoyed herself. After an hour or so, Jackson came back over to her and took her by the hand. He led her to the bed and could feel her immediately hesitation.

"Just pictures," he told her, his intent eyes searching hers. "Nothing naughty." His eyes moved to the buttons of her sweater. "Except for this." His fingers traced a line from her throat to the top button, his eyes never leaving hers. Deftly, his fingers popped the first two buttons of the sweater and gently pushed the fabric aside so that her cleavage was exposed. Isabel could feel her breath quicken at their closeness. Leaning close to her ear, Jackson whispered two words, "Trust me."

In that moment, he suddenly sounded very much like Max. Isabel could only nod. Of course she would trust him. ______________________________________________________________________

Another dream, a different dreamer.

Liz Parker was dreaming that she was running a marathon. A marathon that had no end. Yet she felt free, not tired at all. She smiled as she jogged, her feet pounding the pavement beneath her feet. Isabel caught up to her.

"Hi, Liz."

Liz glanced at her and smiled vacantly.

"How are you?"

Liz shrugged. "Did you know the English language is the hardest to learn because of all of the words that sound alike but are spelled differently?"

Isabel frowned. Who would have figured that Liz Parker was the one with the nonsensical dreams? Isabel groaned. "Well, thanks for that tidbit, Encyclopedia Elizabeth, but I'm here for some information."

"The information super highway has the largest collection of information anywhere."

"Yeah, maybe I'll check that out when I get back to the real world. Until then, could you just shut up and answer me?" Isabel loved that she could be as rude as she wanted in the dream plane and it didn't make one bit of difference in the real world.

"It takes 10 eggs to make a lemon chiffon cake."

Isabel scratched her head. "Not the kind of info I'm looking for, Betty Crocker. How's my brother?"

Liz ran on in silence, apparently distracted by the scenery.

"My brother, Brainiac," Isabel insisted.

Liz turned to her and gave her a suddenly lucid smile that sent chills through her. "You don't have a brother. Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

At that Liz gave a little laugh. "Oh, you know. You know better than anyone what I mean."

"If you mean that I don't have him because we aren't talking - "

Liz stopped running and Isabel nearly ran past her. Liz stretched her hamstrings. "Oh, no, Isabel, that's not it. You don't have him because you killed him."

Isabel drew in a sharp breath.

Liz looked her dead in the eyes. "You're going to kill him, aren't you?"

"What? No! I may be a little pissed at him, but I'd never hurt him."

Liz walked up so she was almost nose-to-nose with Isabel. "You will hurt him. Count on it." _____________________________________________________________________

Tess was suddenly leaning over Isabel, shaking her awake. Isabel had tears streaming from the corners of her eyes and she gratefully slid into Tess's waiting arms.

"It's okay," Tess said, smoothing her hair. "It was just a dream."

"I need to call Max," Isabel said through her tears.

Tess only nodded. "Okay, if you need to."

Isabel swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked at the clock. 1:00 AM Boston time, 10:00 PM Roswell time. He'd still be awake. She let her head drop into her hands as she caught her breath and dried her tears. "Can I have some privacy?" she asked Tess.

Tess left her alone. Isabel glanced at the phone, wiped her hand across her face to get rid of her tears. Sniffling, she picked up the phone and dialed Max's number. After several rings, she heard his voice for the first time in almost a month.

"Hello?"

Her heart started to jump in her chest at the sound of that voice, soft, sort of raspy. A voice she had heard in her head a million times since she'd left Roswell, but was now hearing for real.

"Hello?" he repeated, sounding a little agitated.

"Um, hi, Max," Isabel stammered. She hadn't realized she hadn't answered him.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Hi, Isabel." Another pause. "It's late there. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Max." She sniffed, kicked herself for not thinking to cover the receiver first.

"Have you been crying?"

"Um, no. I have a bit of a cold. It's chilly here. It snowed yesterday."

"Really?"

Isabel sighed mentally. Dumb conversation. "Yeah, listen, Max, I wanted to say that I'm sorry about the way I left. We should have worked things out."

"I know we should have."

"And I don't want you to be mad at me or anything - "

"How's Tess?"

Isabel stopped cold at the tone of his voice. He didn't sound hurt or angry, but rather challenging. "She's fine, Max." She hoped she'd kept the defensiveness out of her tone.

"Isabel, be careful," came Max's reply.

Isabel sighed aloud this time. "Look, Max, I called because I wanted to smooth things over between the two of us, but if you keep this up-"

"I don't trust her."

"As you've stated many painful times before. Look, I gotta go." Without saying goodbye, she hung up on him.

"I'm sorry," Tess said from the doorway.

Isabel threw one of her hands into the air. "It isn't your fault, it isn't your problem. It's all Max's." She curled up on her bed and flipped off the light. Eventually Tess left Isabel to her thoughts. ______________________________________________________________________

Liz awoke from her dream with an odd, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't remember the details of the dream, only that Isabel had been there - which was odd since Liz's dreams never included Isabel - and that she'd been running. There was something about Max, though. Damn. If only she could remember.

Liz flipped on her light and reached for the phone. She dialed and waited patiently until her best friend in the world picked up on the other end.

"Hello?" came Maria's wide-awake voice.

"Maria, it's me," Liz said, her voice husky with sleep.

"Hey, babe. What's up?"

"I had a bad dream. I think."

There was a pause and Liz could imagine Maria wrinkling her pretty nose. "Dream? Are you already in bed? It's like 10:30, Liz. What's the deal with that? You're like 17 years old - 70-year-olds go to bed at 10:30. Wait - in order to have been dreaming, you had to have been already asleep. So, what time did you go to bed? Noon?"

Liz laughed lightly at Maria's little rant. "I went to bed at 10:00. I was tired."

"Oh. Whatever. What about the dream?"

Liz rubbed her eyes. "Let's meet somewhere. The park?"

Maria sounded tentative. "Um, okay. Is everything alright?"

"I don't know."

The park was deserted and a fine layer of dew covered the grass. Liz was already sitting on a bench when Maria approached, her arms wrapped around her thin body. She was shivering from the damp chill of night.

"This better be good," Maria warned as she sat. "It's freaking freezing out here."

"Maria, it's not freezing." Her eyes moved involuntarily to Maria's breasts. "You're not wearing that aqua bra again, are you?"

"Oh, that." Maria waved a hand in the air. "Blew a gasket. In math class. Bumped myself with a pencil." She grimaced. "It was kind of embarrassing."

Liz eyed her incredulously, then shook the mental image from her brain.

Maria cuddled up to Liz and put her arm around her friend. "Why are you having nightmares, Lizzie?"

Liz sighed and looked at her folded hands in her lap. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

Maria kissed the side of her head. "I'd never think you were crazy. If I didn't think you were crazy when you said an alien healed you, why would I think you were crazy now?"

Liz gave a light laugh. "I guess you're right." Her expression fell serious as she prepared to tell Maria her story. She drew in a deep breath, then relayed to Maria both 'visions' she'd had of Max dead, then the strange dream she'd had that night.

Maria was speechless. "Liz, that's freaky," she finally said.

Liz nodded her head in agreement. "I know. And I haven't said anything to Max about it because I don't want him to worry." She paused. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

Maria shook her head. "I've known you for a long time, Liz. Your intuition is usually right. How can you not tell Max this?"

"Because he's worried about Isabel being with Tess to begin with. This would just fuel the fire. I don't know. Maybe I'm just being stupid."