"Who wants a cocktail?" Paul called from the bar.

Isabel glanced quickly at Tess. They both knew about Max's little adventure with alcohol and how he had nearly exposed his true identity to Kyle before Kyle was in the know.

"You'll like the cocktails Paul makes," Tess said, telling Isabel it was okay. "They're special."

Special meaning non-alcoholic? But Tess gave her a wide smile and Isabel nodded. "Okay," she said. "I'd love to try one."

Paul started the blender as Jackson took Isabel's coat. Then he moved to pick out some CDs and turned on the stereo. Tess plopped down on the floor in front of the coffee table and started lighting some candles. Once she had a few lit, she flipped off the lights. Isabel suddenly started to feel nervous.

But Tess was suddenly by her side, handing her a drink and slipping her arm around her waist. "We'll have a good time tonight," she whispered. "Just let yourself go."

Soon they were all sitting on the floor before the table. Tess lit some incense and the sweet, spicy smell filled Isabel's nose. She sipped her drink and felt no ill effects from it. It was rather tasty and soon she had finished the first one and was given another.

Isabel didn't notice the odd sensation in her body at first. And by the time she noticed it, she just didn't care anymore. Nor did she care about Jackson's lips on her neck, his hand on her thigh. Even his words against her ear didn't frighten her like they should have - "I know what you are."

Then Tess was before her, her blond hair falling into her eyes, her lips stretched into a smile. She ran her hands through Isabel's hair and Isabel laughed. She wasn't sure why she was laughing, or why Tess touching her felt almost pleasurable.

"They know who we are," Tess explained again, her voice seeming somewhat far away to Isabel. "We can trust them. They only want to help."

"We only want to help." Isabel turned her head drunkenly to take in Jackson. For some reason she didn't see Jackson - she saw Max sitting before her. Her eyes widened and she reached over to touch his face, to feel his skin. He smiled at her.

"Max…" she breathed and he nodded. She felt her tears well up in her eyes and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "I miss you so much."

"And I miss you, too," he said, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. "Will you come visit me?"

"I can't. I'm in Boston, Max. I started school. I can't come home." Isabel sobbed freely.

"You can visit me." Max's eyes implored her. "You know how." Then he lifted her hands and placed them on either side of his head. "Come to me, Isabel."

The rest of the night was a blur. Isabel thought she was standing in Max's bedroom, watching him as he slept. She thought that she'd brought Tess, Paul and Jackson with her somehow. Those delusional thoughts were intertwined with what she thought was reality - someone's hands on the bottom of her sweater, pulling it over her head. Lips on her body, in her hair, Tess's drunken giggle. A bedroom, candlelight, a bathtub. And then she drifted off into oblivion. ______________________________________________________________________

Max jumped out of a sound sleep, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribs. His eyes darted around the room as he searched for the presence he felt so strongly. One glance to the window told him that it was still closed and that no one had gotten in that way. He quickly flipped on the light and grabbed the aluminum ball bat he kept by his bed. His room was empty.

He caught his breath and raked a hand through his hair. He knew someone had been there - he'd felt them. The confusion in his mind was pushed away as he realized who it had been - he smelled Isabel's perfume.

Quickly, he jumped out of bed and ran down the hallway. Phillip was in the living room watching late-night TV. He seemed unconcerned until he saw Max's disheveled appearance. "You okay?" he asked his son.

"Isabel," Max stammered.

"What about Isabel?" Phillip asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Was she here?"

The older man smiled and pushed himself up from the couch. "You're sleep walking again, Max," he said gently as he put an arm around his son's shoulders and started to steer him back to his room.

"I'm not asleep, Dad," Max protested.

Phillip chuckled. "You always say that, Max. Now let's just go back to bed, shall we? You won't even remember this in the morning."

Max have a mental shrug - might as well let his father believe that he was sleep walking. That way he wouldn't have anything to explain in the morning. He knew Isabel had been in his room. Why, he wasn't sure. But there was some biological homing beacon buried deep within Max's body that always went off when she was near and it had kicked into high gear. Max let Phillip tuck him into bed and flip out the light. But as soon as the door closed behind him, Max was on his feet and pacing. Finally he picked up the phone and dialed Michael's number.

"Hello?" came a decidedly female voice.

"Maria?" Max asked, a little surprised that she was at Michael's apartment at this hour.

"Mmm hmm," she replied sleepily.

"Can I speak to Michael?"

"Oh, sure." There was a pause, then a shriek, then the sound of the phone being dropped, then a whole machine-gun rattle of words. "Oh my God! Get up, Michael! We fell asleep - my mom is going to kill me. Get up, dammit! Wake up, Spaceboy!"

Max stifled his laugh in spite of the situation. He waited patiently while Maria continued to rant.

"Michael! You have to take me home! Christ - where is my other shoe?" Another pause, something incomprehensible in Michael's voice. "Oh, get the damn phone. Max."

"Yeah?" Michael said into the receiver.

"I need to talk to you," Max said.

"Okay." Max had a mental image of Michael scratching his eyebrow. "I think I need to get Maria home - as soon as possible. Then I'll stop by, okay?"

"Alright." Max hung up and waited for Michael to arrive.

Less than a half-hour later, Michael pushed open Max's window and swung his long legs through the opening. Max jumped to his feet.

"What's going on?" Michael said as he sunk tiredly to Max's desk chair. "You called pretty late. Not that that was a problem - good thing you woke us up."

"Isabel was here," Max said.

Michael looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

Max gestured toward the bed. "I was sleeping. Ever get that feeling you're being watched?" Michael nodded. "I woke up out of a sound sleep, certain someone was in the room. Then I smelled her perfume, Michael."

Michael gave a little shrug. "Did she come home and you didn't know it?"

"No. I checked. She isn't here."

"Wow."

Max sat down uneasily on the bed. "It really spooked me, Michael."

"I can see that." Michael wasn't used to seeing Max unnerved. Max was the pinnacle of self-containment, of self-control, but tonight Michael thought he could actually see Max's hands shaking. "How do you think she got here?"

"I don't know," Max admitted. "We don't have the ability to teleport. And if she wanted to visit, why didn't she dream walk me? Nothing adds up, nothing makes sense."

Michael scratched his head. He didn't have any answers for his friend, but he did think briefly of what Maria had told him. She'd told him about Liz's visions, about her strange dream. "Maxwell," Michael began. "I think you need to be careful."

Max's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Something isn't right here. I think you need to be very cautious right now."

"Michael, are you saying that Isabel might be trying to harm me?" He gave a little snort. "She's mad, sure, but she'd never hurt me."

"Still." Michael shrugged, trying to make the situation seem not so dire. "Watch your back." He glanced at the sleeping bag rolled up under Max's desk. When Michael lived with Hank, he used to sleep in that bag more nights out of the week than he'd spent in his own bed. Well, he could always watch Max's back without him really knowing he was doing it. He gestured toward the sleeping bag. "I'm tired, don't feel like driving back to my apartment. May I?"

Max nodded then watched as Michael unrolled the bag.

"Get some sleep," Michael advised. "We'll dig into the possibilities tomorrow, okay?"

Max agreed and climbed back into his bed. But long after the lights were out and Michael's slow, steady breathing confirmed he was sleeping, Max stared at the ceiling and worried about what may be happening. ______________________________________________________________________

When Isabel awoke the following morning, she was surprised to find that she had fallen asleep on the couch. She was still fully clothed. Blinking her eyes against the morning light, she rubbed her forehead and struggled to remember the events of the previous night.

She remembered going to the boys' flat. She remembered being handed a drink. But the rest was a blur. Had she gotten drunk? She had no headache, no stomach ache, but the evening was all an odd haze. Isabel snapped her eyes open as she remembered seeing Max. How had she seen Max? But she remembered him, she remembered touching him, crying with him, but nothing else.

A sound in the kitchen attracted Isabel's attention. Tess was humming to herself as she made some coffee. Isabel pushed herself to her feet and slid into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Morning," Tess chimed as she placed a hot cup of coffee before Isabel. "Have fun last night?"

Isabel sipped the liquid and nodded weakly.

Tess giggled. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure." Isabel hoped that Tess couldn't see her uncertainty.

"Well, Jackson sure is taken with you."

Jackson. What had she done with Jackson? She only vaguely remembered kissing him, kissing someone else, too. Had she been kissing Paul also? She remembered Tess touching her hair, feeling free and uninhibited. A little bit of panic started to twist in her stomach. What had she done?

"Did Max call last night?" Isabel was finally brave enough to ask.

"Why would Max call?" Tess asked as she moved back into the kitchen.

"I don't know. I thought maybe I spoke to him last night." Isabel looked at the tabletop.

"Maybe you did." Tess shrugged.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you do that dream thing, Isabel. Maybe you walked him last night without realizing it."

"Yeah. I guess that was probably it." But it seemed so real. It seemed as though she had been talking with Max, then she'd been in his room, watching him sleep. Her body ached at the thought. She and Max were each only part of a whole and all of her life she had needed to be near him. Michael had pointed it out one time - that no matter the occasion, no matter the company, Max and Isabel were always within close proximity of one another. Michael said they would sometimes even touch each other without realizing it - Max would touch her back or her hair and Isabel would sometimes touch his arm or his shoulder. Isabel had been a little aghast when Michael told her that - did people think there was something unnatural happening between them? Michael had laughed and said that no one noticed the two of them the way he did. Now Isabel closed her eyes against the thought of having been with him last night, of having been close enough to touch him. Oh, why had she ever left Roswell?

"Jack and Paul want us to come over again tonight," Tess was saying. "You up for it?"

Isabel glanced at her, made a mental note to never drink whatever it was she drank the night before. "Sure," she agreed, trying to seem enthusiastic. "I had a great time." ______________________________________________________________________

Liz watched Max walk back and forth across the lawn as he pushed the mower. He was moving at quite a clip today and a thin sheen of sweat covered his body. He'd stripped to his shorts and sneakers and Liz could see the sweat gleaming on his skin. His face was contorted into a mask of unhappiness as he mowed. Liz knew this wasn't one of his favorite tasks, but he never looked this pissed off about it before.

Holding a glass of lemonade, she approached Max on one of his passes near the house. When he spied her, he grinned and cut the power to the mower.

"What's the rush?" Liz asked as she handed him the glass. "It's gotta be 100 degrees today and you're going at this like there's no tomorrow."

Max looked over his shoulder at the lawn and realized that he'd mowed nearly all of it in a very short span of time. His bare chest heaved with the exertion. He gulped down half of the lemonade, then retrieved his discarded shirt and wiped some of the sweat from his face with it. Then he leaned in and gave Liz a long, hard kiss. She almost squirmed in surprise, but then giggled at Max's sudden affection. He tasted salty, warm, and she could feel his heart beating madly in his chest. She touched his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't over do it," she warned, a motherly tone in her voice. "It's hot today and as alien as you are, you still have a human body." She glanced down at the front of his shorts. "Thank God."

"Yes, Mom," Max laughed and pulled her into his arms. This time she did squirm against his sweaty skin until he let her go, laughing lightly. "What's wrong? You never minded a little sweat before."

"That's…different."

Max laughed again. "Go into the house. I'll be in in a minute."

Liz obeyed. In the cool kitchen, she perched on a stool and waited for Max to finish his chore. He appeared a few minutes later, winked at her and headed straight back to the shower. Liz sighed and leaned her chin in her hand. She could hear the water running in the pipes as Max washed away the grime and sweat from mowing the lawn. A message by the answering machine caught her eye.

Liz hopped off the stool and picked up the memo pad. All it said was "Tuesday, 1:55 am." She cocked her head, noted that the memo was scribbled in Max's hand writing. Before she could replace the memo, Max reappeared in the door way, his smile fading as he saw what Liz was holding.

Liz jumped a bit at being caught snooping, but then held up the pad. All she had to do was ask - she and Max never lied to one another. "What's this?" she asked.

Max glanced at the note, then back at her. "Nothing."

She raised her eyebrows. "Nothing?" She gave a little snort. "Well, your expression says that it is something, Max."

He sighed and slid onto a stood while he toweled his wet hair. He motioned to the vacant stool across from him and Liz sat down facing him.

"I don't want you to worry," he began, which ironically did make her worry.

Liz felt her heart start to thump a little more noticeably in her chest and her palms suddenly felt sweaty. She swallowed and felt a strange lump in her throat. "What's going on, Max?" Her voice was a scratchy whisper.

Max cleared his throat and reach across the short distance between them to take her hand in his. Slowly, trying desperately to not frighten her, he explained his strange encounter from the night before. Liz's heart started beating triple time as she thought of her own visions.

"Max," she breathed.

Max squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, Liz. I'm sure it was nothing."

"I want to stay with you."

"What?"

Liz had made up her mind. "I'm going to stay with you. In case anything strange happens."

Max gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I appreciate that, Liz, but it really isn't necessary." He smiled lovingly at her. "Everything will be okay."

She sighed. "At least have Michael here, then," she demanded gently. "I don't have any powers that can help you. I couldn't defend you, but he could."