As they were talking, something made Liz look towards the door. She found herself staring as a guy she had never seen before, but looked familiar, approached the counter. Instead of heading for the empty stool, two seats down from them, he came up behind Isabel. He looked at Liz and put his index finger to his mouth, signaling for her to not reveal his presence, and then placed his hands tightly over Isabel’s eyes. She jumped slightly in surprise.

“Alex?” she said, her voice revealing the surprise that she wouldn’t let her body show.

The stranger leaned down, and putting his lips close to her ear, whispered, “Nope, try again.”

Liz watched the young man with more than slight interest. He was a bit taller than Max, but slightly less muscular in build. His light blond hair was slightly shaggy, and shone as if out of a shampoo commercial. His azure blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Michael?” Isabel said, guessing again. Annoyance was beginning to seep into her voice.

“Not with that hair.” the strange guy said, giving Liz a devilish smile, revealing a dimple in his left cheek.

“That’s it,” Isabel said, her patience had obviously flown out the window, “who the hell-” her voice was suddenly cut off as she turned to face the object of her annoyance. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened into an oval shape, but no sound came out of it.

The blond stranger just gave her a knowing smile, and slightly raised his left eyebrow. “Hey, Iz.” he said in an even voice. When she continued to just stand there, he lowered himself to her eyeline and said, this time in a playful voice, “What, no kiss hello?”

“Tristan?” she asked, her voice full of amazement, “Is that really you?”

“In the flesh.” he said, holding his arms out to from his sides to “display” himself to her.

“Oh my god! It’s been forever and a day!” she squealed, crushing him to her in a tight hug. “When did you get back? Where have you been? How are you?” the questions rushed from her lips almost before she could register what she was saying.

“Just now, long story, good.” he said giving a laugh.

“Tristan Kingsley,” he introduced, reaching his hand out to Liz.

“Yeah, so she said. But I already knew.” he gave her a questioning look. “Liz Parker.” His look remained. “We danced together once in 7th grade.” she quickly spilled out, trying to hide her embarrassment. Good one Liz, it was five years ago, not like he’d really remember. She was surprised that even she remembered. It was at the 7th grade Valentines Day dance, and she had just been turned down by Stephen Damascus, undoubtedly one of the cutest boys in the entire school, when low and behold, a mysterious blond kid asked her to dance. She had seen him before with Isabel and Max Evans, but knew he didn’t go to their school.

“Oh wow. You’ve changed.” there was a slight hint of awe in his voice. He then bowled over Liz with his next comment, “Has Max asked you out yet?”

“Tristan!” Isabel screeched.

“What?” he said giving her a innocent look, “How am I supposed to know if I can go after her or not? Wouldn’t want to get in Maxwell’s way.”

Liz blushed yet at again under Tristan’s gaze, which was now turned on her, and smiled with wonderment. Isabel was actually squealing and not in her usual ice princess mode. Who exactly was this guy?

Isabel pulled him into a now empty booth and her question assault began. “So tell me, tell me! I want to know everything. Where have you been? What have you been doing?” her eyes lit up with anticipation and joy.

“I’ve been, around.” he answered evasively.

“Uh-uh, now way. You’re not getting away that easily.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a low, and familiar sounding, “Oh my god”. Liz turned to see Max standing about two feet away, his mouth agape. Michael stood slightly behind him with quite the same look. “Tristan?” Max said slowly, and quietly, as if he were almost worried he might scare him away, or make him disappear.

“Hey, Maxwell.” Tristan said softly, his early bravado fading. “Hey Michael.” he added, seeing the other boy.

Isabel’s smile slowly began to fade as she saw the look on her brother’s and Michael’s faces. Fear, shock, questioning, relief, all mixed into one. It was a look she often saw on Max, but nearly never on Michael. This time the stone wall hadn’t just cracked, he had crumbled.

They all stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Liz looked from Tristan to Max to Michael and finally back at Tristan. What exactly was going on? Max looked like he had seen a ghost, and Michael, well, she couldn’t even put into words the looked that was plastered across his face. Gone was the usual cocky, together, self demeanor. It was replaced with a look of dread, and if she read it right, fear.

“What, where, how..” Max could barely get a word out, let alone a thought. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, and grabbed for the booth seat to sit down. He didn’t even notice when Michael turned around and nearly ran out of the Crashdown.

Michael ran into the ally behind the Crashdown. He leaned back against the wall, panting as if he had just ran a twenty mile race, not a few hundred feet. Sweat was pouring off his body, and he was suddenly hit with a flash of memories.

*He and Tristan in a grocery store. They are about ten years old, and Michael is pushing him as he stands on the back of a cart. They never have enough money between them to buy much of anything, but it is one of Tristan’s favorite places, so they go there.*

*He and Tristan just sitting in the desert. When it got bad at one of their foster houses, that’s where they would go. They knew they were welcome at the Evans house, but somehow this made them feel better than a ‘fake family’, as Tristan called it, ever could. They wouldn’t talk, just look at the stars, and listen to the desert sounds, and each other's slow breathing.*

How could he be back? Why had he come back? Where had he been? Why had he left? The thoughts darted around his head. But out of all the questions one loomed the largest: would he stay?

“So,” Max said taking a deep, supposedly calming breath, “you came back.”

“I said I would.” Tristan answered, his confidence returning.

They squared off in a momentary staring match before Isabel broke in, “Isn’t this great?” she said, grabbing both of their hands.

Max looked at her, then back to the light haired young man in front of him, a slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah, yeah it is.” The smile was now at full mast. “Where have you been? How are you?”

“I was just asking the same thing,” Isabel said, Ice Princess seeping into her voice “before you so rudely interrupted us. I can’t believe you’re back,” she said turning to Tristan.

She sat back and looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in nearly four years. He and Max were talking about the ‘important’ things that had happened over the past four years. The fact that Liz, Alex and Maria were now in their lives, that Valenti was on their side, Nasedo, all that he had missed. But Isabel was more interested in just looking at him. He was more muscular than she remembered, and taller. Duh, she thought to herself, he was fourteen then. He’s nearly a man now. A light sprinkling of freckles still dotted his nose, and a dimple still formed in his left cheek when he laughed, which was often. More importantly, she wondered, what had changed on the inside? While he seemed to be the same playful, unabashedly charming boy he was years ago, there was something under the surface, lurking.

Something dark, something painful.

“Well, it’s getting late, I should get going.” he said, standing, disrupting her thoughts.

“Where are you staying?” she asked, concern flooding her voice.

“You know, around.”

“No, now you are staying with us.”

“No, I couldn’t impose on you like that. I mean your parents-”

“Will be thrilled to see you. You are coming.”

He gave Max a pleading look. “She has you in her grip, man. You aren’t getting out of this one.” Max laughed.

Tristan sighed as he rounded the corner of yet another street. He had been looking for Michael since he had left Max and Isabel’s after breakfast. The three of them had spent the previous night just being teens, something none of them often had a chance to be. They sat up reminiscing, remembering old jokes, and just thinking about good times in general. But there was something missing: Michael. Tristan had seen him practically fly out of the Crashdown the night before, and had made it his mission that afternoon to find out what was going on. He found him just two blocks down from the Crashdown, just standing, looking out onto the ever present desert. He took his place beside him, and for a moment neither of them spoke.

“Hey, you sorta did your famous Houdini impersonation the other day. We didn’t get to talk.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

Tristan ignored the coldness in Michael’s voice, “So, how have you been?”

“Shouldn’t that be my question?” he spat out a little to harshly. He immediately noticed Tristan’s eyes go from light to a darker blue, signaling that he had felt that one. That comment had hurt. While nothing else on his face showed it, even after four years Michael still knew to read Tristan’s eyes. That saying ‘they are the window to your soul’ was definitely true in his case.

Without warning, Tristan’s patience broke. “Come on Michael. Don’t do this BS with me. I know you too well, remember? I’ve known you longer than anyone on this planet.”

And he was right. He had known him before even Max and Isabel. They had been placed together in his first foster home. They were just six years old, but almost immediately a bond was formed. And, until that fateful year when Michael joined Max and Isabel in the third grade at Roswell Elementary, they had been inseparable.

There had been other changes that year as well. Tristan had been adopted by the Kingsley family a few months before. They were devout Catholics, and immediately enrolled their new son into St. Francis’s, a private Catholic school just outside of Roswell. Michael had tried to make light of it, teasing Tristan about his sissy, maroon uniform, telling him that no matter what, nobody, not even new parents, distance or nuns, could break up their friendship. But, as time passed, he saw less and less of Tristan, and more and more of Max and Isabel. And while Tristan knew of Michael’s unique situation, it just wasn’t the same as sharing in Michael's unique situation.

But then, almost as soon as Tristan had gained a family, he had lost them. The Kingsley’s were killed on the Fourth of July in a car accident, only a little less than a year after the adoption. They were on their way back from a family picnic, and were hit by a drunk driver. Tristan, who had been sitting in the back, was thrown through the window when the car rolled. He landed almost fifty feet away. He broke his right arm, and to this day carried a deep and ragged scar across his right shoulder, that snaked down his back. Not to even mention the invisible scars he had gained from listening to his parents anguished cries for nearly an hour before the rescue squad showed up.

Because the Kingsleys had no other close relatives, Tristan was placed back into the state’s custody.

“You left without even a goodbye!” he shouted

“Is that what you wanted? Did you want me to come to you and have a long, sloppy goodbye. Did you want me to stand there and watch you cry as I told you I was leaving forever? Is that really what you wanted? Tell me, please. Because I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”

“Tristan...”

“No! I have kept your secret for years! I have helped you, and been your best friend. I’ve even kept my own secrets from you, just so that you wouldn’t have to burden yourself with anymore. So what do you want from me now? What? Tell me Michael! What?!”

“I don’t know,” Michael mumbled softly, “I just-”

“You just what?”

Michael frowned. He hadn’t meant to hurt Tristan like this, he hadn’t meant to make him angry. He had wanted their reunion, which he knew would one day happen, to be a happy one. They would talk about the good old days, what had happened since Tristan had been gone, what promise the future would hold now that Butch and Sundance, as they liked to call themselves when they were kids, were back together. Maybe he would even hug the big jerk. Tristan had been the closest he’d ever come to having a brother. Yeah, Max was great, but his friendship with Tristan was different. He didn’t have to be his friend. Max was tied to him by their secret, but Tristan had been there for him just as much, if you didn’t count the past four years, and not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

They were both silent for a second. Taking in what the other had said, lost in their own thoughts. Then, almost as if Tristan could sense his remorse, he took it upon himself to mend the rift. “So, Max and Liz eh? Finally. How long did it take the loser?” a smile played on his lips, and Michael had to smile as well.

“Beginning of Sophomore year.”

“What happened? Did God himself come down and say ‘Go for it dumbass!’”

Michael laughed out loud, “Almost. Liz got shot and Max, being his usual hero self, healed her.”

“That sounds like Sir Maxalot.” Tristan said, rolling his eyes and using the nickname that they had given to Max.

It felt good to laugh. It felt even better to be laughing with Tristan. “Hey, let’s go do lunch. I hear the Crashdown makes an okay burger.”

“And the help isn’t all that bad.” Tristan said, giving him a smug, sideways glance.

“Meaning?”

But Tristan didn’t respond. He just put his hands in his pockets and did a little spin as he walked towards the Crashdown. That know-it-all smile of his on his face.

Though the lunch crowd was almost gone when Michael and Tristan reached the Crashdown, Max, Isabel and Alex were still sitting at a booth nursing drinks.

“Nice of you to join us.” Isabel said in her best Ice Princess voice as Michael and Tristan squeezed into the booth.

“Shut up, you know you love anticipation.” Tristan shot back with a smile. Although Alex didn’t say anything, Michael could see a look of annoyance on the boy’s face.

“So,” he broke in, “I know that you guys have the snappiest banter around, and I would love to sit here and listen forever, but I am starving.”

“We already ate.” Max said from beside him.

“What? You know it is polite in some countries to wait.” Michael said.

“It’s also polite in some countries to be on time.” Alex retorted

Liz had watched with more than subtle interest as Tristan and Michael had come into the Crashdown. She had also observed Alex’s dagger shooting look as Tristan sat down next to Isabel.

“Looks like Alex might have some competition, huh?” Maria said coming up beside her.

“What?”

“Isabel and that new, old, guy Tristan. Looks like there is some major sparkage potential there.”

“Maria, they are just friends. He has known her longer than we’ve known Alex.”

“Not if you count those four years he was off doing, whatever it was he was doing.”

Liz just gave her friend a look.

“Come on,” Maria continued, “What do we really know about him? Yeah, he was their friend then, but four years can make a major difference. Who knows what’s happened in those four years while he was being Mr. Runaway Man. For all we know he could be working for the FBI.”

They both looked over as another howl of laughter erupted from the booth.

“So then we found them in this nasty nookie motel, with Maria laying on top of him.” The group laughed as Isabel finished the story.

“And then how long after that did it take for them to get together?” Tristan asked, giving Maria a glance.

“Only five months.” Alex answered with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Tristan said, nodding his head, “that sounds like Mike.”

“Mike?” Maria said as she approached the table.

“Yeah, it’s what I used to call him. You know those Nike commercials, ‘like Mike, if I could be like Mike, I wanna be I wanna be like Mike, like Mike-”

Maria cut off his singing, “So you came waltzing back after all these years to entertain us with your song stylings. Lucky us." The group was silent as a sudden frostiness fell over the table.

“So are you going to take our order or just stand there?” Michael said, finally breaking the silence.

“I think I’ll just stand here.” Maria reply angrily. She didn’t understand how Michael could just let this guy back into his life.

“Um, excuse us, I think we need to talk for a second.” Tristan said, taking hold of Maria’s arm and practically dragging her into the back room.

“Who the hell do you think you are and what the hell do you think you are doing?” she shouted at him.

“I am keeping you from looking like a jackass.”

“What? You’re keeping me from-”

“I don’t know much about you, and you don’t know much about me. And I think it’s more than fair to say neither of us trusts each other.”

“Hey now buddy, I know you think you’re some big shot because you’ve known Michael for all these years, and you’ve known their secret since you were kids, but that doesn’t make you some kind of god. And in case you don’t remember, you ran away. You left them and their secret. I was the one here when all the stuff with the FBI and Tess went down. Me, not you. Where were you anyway?”

“Around.”

“Jeez, and I thought Michael had trust problems.”

“Michael doesn’t have trust problems.” Tristan said.

“You have been gone a long time. If Michael doesn’t have trust problems, then I’m Celine Dion.”

“He seems to trust you well enough.”

She had no response for that one. He was right, in the past two years, Michael had grown to trust her. Not only her, but Liz and Alex as well. Though she had to admit, it did hurt that he had never told her about Tristan. Maria couldn’t help but notice the huge effect this young man before her had on her boyfriend.

“Look,” he confessed, “I understand you don’t trust me. And I understand that I have cut in between you and Michael. But you have to realize that was not my intention. To tell you the truth, I think you’re good for him. He needs to trust more people.” he eyed her, waiting for her response.

"Are you working for the FBI?" she asked, giving him a suspicious look.

He was taken aback for a moment. "What?"

"Are you working for the FBI?" she repeated

"No." he wasn't exactly sure where this line of questioning was coming from or going.

She looked him over for a moment then said, "Are you sure?"

He started to laugh, but quickly stopped when he saw her face, she was serious. "Yes, I am completely sure I am not working for the FBI." He saw her open her mouth and quickly continued, "And I have never worked for the FBI, and never will." She closed her mouth and he let out a sigh of relief.

“So, you and Michael were, like, what? Best friends?”

“Yeah, we were pretty tight.”

“And you’ve known him for a long time?”

“I can honestly say I’ve known him longer than anyone on Earth.”

She laughed. “So we are okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’re good.” she said, giving him a smile.

“Good.”

Suddenly the door swung open and Liz walked in. “Hey guys, I just need to, uh, get some more buns.”

Maria watched as Tristan’s eyes followed her friend around the room. It was the same look she had seen on Max’s face many times. As Liz left, she walked by him, gently brushing his chest with hers. “Excuse me.” she said. His eyes were still on the door as it swung closed.

“Hey Romeo,” Maria said, waving a hand in front of his face, “I’m not the only one who is taken.”

“What?” he asked, finally coming out of his Liz induced trance.

“She and Max are together. I wouldn’t get in between that if you know what is good for you.”

He ran is tongue slowly over his upper lip. “Yeah, together.” he said repeating her words, “Michael told me about that. The shooting and all.”

“Hey, stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That look. I saw how you looked at her. Following her with those deep blue eyes of yours. You have to get this, Liz and Max are like meant to be. Kismet, fate, destiny.”