“It would be easier to get blood out of a stone.” Isabel said, rolling her eyes.

“Yet somehow not as appealing to watch I would think.” Liz said

“Can’t you do that though? Get blood out of stones?” Alex asked, getting strange looks from the others in response.

“What was that about?” Michael asked Tristan and Maria as they returned to the table.

“Nothing,” Maria answered before Tristan could, “we just needed a bonding moment.”

“A bonding moment?” Michael asked, his eyes shifting from her to Tristan.

“Yes.”

“But I assure you, it was very manly bonding.” Tristan said in a voice deeper than his own.

“Yeah, I can practically see the manliness dripping off you.” Alex said sarcastically.

The banter between the seven teens went on for the next hour. Not a mention of aliens, danger, the FBI, running away, secrets, or pretty much anything of any remote seriousness was mentioned. That alone brought a smile to Tristan’s face. But he knew it couldn’t last.

“Hey, um, I gotta go do something.” he said, standing up from the table.

“What do you mean?” Isabel asked, standing up after him, “You said you would have dinner with our parents tonight. They were really looking forward to it. I, was really looking forward to it.” she added in a softer voice.

“And you should still be looking forward to it.” Tristan said, as he put his hands on her shoulders, “Is, I’ll be there. I just have to go do something first. You know how it is.” he turned to the rest of the group, not exactly seeking their approval, but wanting to know he wasn’t making the wrong move.

“Hey, yeah.” Michael spoke up, “You’re a busy man. Who are we to keep you.”

Tristan could hear the hurt in his voice, but shoved it to the back of his mind. This was more important right now than his friend’s feelings. “Okay, so I’ll see you at dinner.” He heard a few strangled ‘byes’ as he turned to walk out. As he reached the door, Maria noticed him turn back again to give the group one last look, or actually, to give Liz one last look. Maria glanced at Liz and then Max, but neither seemed to notice Tristan’s gaze. He looked away from Liz to herself, and she felt a shiver go down her spine as she stood under his intense stare. After a moment, he left.

He walked for nearly four hours, when he stopped the sun was already beginning to set. He glanced down at his watch and realized that he was supposed to be at the Evans house for dinner in just fifteen minutes. “Shit.” he said quietly to himself. He didn’t want to miss the dinner, he knew that would be a huge mistake, but another part of him, a stronger part of him, told him that this was even more important. “Goddammit, where are you?” he asked to the now dark sky. He leaned back against a building, and let his head tap against the concrete lightly.

He was startled by a familiar, yet sickening voice. “Think that they will just let you back into their lives with open arms?”

He didn’t bother to look towards the voice, “Why wouldn’t they? I am their friend.”

“You are not their friend. You never will be.”

“Go away.” he was sick of this, sick of running, sick of hiding, sick of lying and secrets.

“Tristan,” the voice said, unnaturally calm, “you have to face it. It is why you are here. It is why you can’t stay away.”

“I said, go away.” he clenched his jaw, willing himself not to turn towards the voice.

“I’m sure I will see you later.”

Even after the voice was gone, he still didn’t turn. He sank down into a sitting position, closed his eyes, and rested his head against his knees. He didn’t even notice as rain began to fall.

“Where is he?” Isabel asked for the fifth time in as many minutes. Max watched his sister pace the length of the Crashdown. It was nearly ten o’clock, a full four hours past the time Tristan was supposed to be at their house eating dinner.

“I’m sure he just got caught up in whatever he was doing.” he answered, trying to calm her down. Max glanced around the room, trying to raise some support. Michael and Maria were sitting at the counter, Alex was at a table, and Liz was standing next to him, her face a mask of worry and doubt.

“I say we go look for him.” Isabel was already in her jacket and nearly out the door when Michael gently grabbed her arm.

“Is, Tristan is a big boy. He can take care of himself. I’m sure his business just took longer than he thought it would.”

“Yeah,” Maria added, “I’m sure he’s fine.”

But Isabel couldn’t let it go, “No, you guys, there is something majorly wrong. He wouldn’t just..”

“Disappear?” Maria said quietly.

Isabel turned to her brother, “Would he, Max? Would he just up and leave again? No goodbye, no nothing?”

Max wanted to say, ‘no Is, of course he wouldn’t. Tristan would never do that.’ but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her that maybe, that was exactly what he had done. “I, I really don’t know.” he said, walking over to his sister.

“She’s right.” Michael said, the sound of his voice almost making Max jump. “I don’t think he would just disappear again. There’s something wrong.”

“Okay,” Max said, looking at Michael, then Isabel, “so what do we do? Do we go looking for him?”

“Yeah.” Isabel said with uncertainty, “I mean, what else can we do?”

“Michael and Maria, you guys go check out the desert, Isabel, you and Alex look around in town, Liz and I will search the neighborhoods. ” Max said, falling easily into the roll of leader.

“Wait,” Liz said. Everyone turned to look at her. “What if he comes back here?”

“Yeah,” Alex spoke up, “One of us should stay here in case he does.”

“I’ll stay.” Liz volunteered quickly, much too quickly in Max’s opinion.

“Uh, okay.” Max said, not exactly comfortable with the idea, but not seeing an alternative either. “If anyone finds him, bring him back to our house. We’ll all meet there at,” he looked down at his watch, “11:30. Got it?” The others answered that they did.

“Should we like synchronize our watches or something?” Maria asked as they filed out of the restaurant.

Max stopped at the door, and turned to face Liz. “I’ll talk to you later.” he said, giving her a soft kiss.

Liz grabbed his hand before he could leave, she knew that he was more worried than he was willing to show. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find him.” she said before he left.

“Why didn’t you mention Tristan before?” Maria said, ending the silence that had begun the moment they had gotten into her car.

“He was in the past.” Michael said, not bothering to turn his eyes away from the road.

“Well he isn’t anymore.” she said, slightly under her breath.

“Look, I thought he was gone forever. I wasn’t exactly expecting this sudden reunion.”

“Are you happy he’s back?”

“Of course.”

“Because you seemed power freaked before.”

He didn’t respond.

“Michael-”

“Well Maria, I was just a tad bit shocked to find out that someone I thought was long gone, dead even, alive and standing in front of me.” He was obviously frustrated about something.

“Did he tell you why he came back?” she asked quietly.

“No.”

“Did he tell you why he left?”

“No, alright, no. He didn’t tell me anything. Are you happy now?”

“Sorry I asked.” she said looking out the window, trying as much as she could to avoid him, even though they were sitting less than two feet from each other.

“Maria, no, I’m sorry. All of this has just really taken me by surprise.”

She turned to face him. “He said you guys were like best friends or something.”

“Yeah,” the tone of his voice had softened, “What else did he say to you this afternoon?”

“Just that he had known you longer than anyone else, he wasn’t working for the FBI, and-.”

“What?!” he said, cutting her off.

“I had to be sure. I mean, you never know. He mysteriously leaves, mysteriously reappears.”

“Thanks. For watching out for me like that. Even though it wasn’t needed this time...”

“Like I said, you never know. Better safe than sorry. And always be prepared. The alien scout mottos.” she grinned at him, “He also said something else.”

“What? That he’s not from Jerry Springer either?”

“No, he said that he was glad you had me to trust.”

Michael quickly glanced at her, “So am I.” She grinned from ear to ear. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” she asked innocently.

“That ‘I already know the names of our children’ look.”

“Trudy, Hailey and Adam.” she retorted, her eyes gleaming.

“Trudy? Uh-uh, no way. I will not have a child named Trudy.”

When Liz returned from the back room she was startled to see Tristan sitting at a booth. It had been raining all night and he was soaking wet. Not a drowned rat soaking though. His hair, which looked darker, was smoothed back off his face, and his teeshirt hung to his athletic frame.

“When did you come in? I- I didn’t hear you. Where have you been? We were-” she cut herself off when she saw the look on his face. He looked physically and emotionally exhausted. “Hey, why don’t we go upstairs. You should get out of those wet clothes.” she blushed wildly at what she had just said, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

She lead him to her bedroom. “Um, why don’t you take off your shirt, and I’ll go get you a dry one. Then we can go on over to Max’s.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“I, I don’t want to go over to Max’s.”

“Then where are you going to stay tonight?”

“I’ll just find a place. I’m good at that.”

“But it’s pouring.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t melt.” a wry smile crossed his face

“Stay here.” she said, surprising even herself.

“What?” now it was his turn to balk

“Uh, just tonight. Unless you want to go over to Max’s.” she looked down, slightly embarrassed at the mention of her boyfriend.

“No, no. Here is fine.”

“Um, give me your shirt.”

Overcome with a sudden and rare case of modesty, he turned his back to her. When he took off his shirt, Liz saw a jagged scar running down the length of his shoulder, onto his back. Max had told her about the car crash, but it still shocked her. He turned, catching her staring at him. “I, I was just.” Liz stammered

“Checking out my studly body?” he said, a smile curling his lips, giving her a view of his dimple. She smiled and blushed, staring at the floor this time.

“Yeah,” he continued, “You women just can’t get enough of the Trist man and his sexy bod. But please, try to contain yourself. I don’t want Max all over my ass for stealing away his girl."

Max! Oh my god! Between the rain and nakedness, she had completely forgotten to check in with him. “Max, I, I need to call him. I say I would if I found, you.” She stared at him for a moment, not sure what she was waiting for.

“It is your phone, and we do live in a free country the last time I checked.” he said, giving her the unspoken permission she needed. And with that he slipped out into the hall to give Liz some privacy. Through the half shut door he could hear snippets of their conversation. “Yeah, I found him. Yeah, he’s fine. No, I don’t think he really wants to talk to you right now.” she paused for a moment, obviously listening to Max rant. “He’s going to stay here tonight. No, my parents are at some convention. Yes, okay, Max, okay. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Yeah, me too. Night.”

He was slightly startled when she pushed open the door, and motioned for him to come back into her bedroom. An awkward silence covered the room. “Well, I, uh, guess we should get some shut eye.” he finally said

“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea.” she agreed. She pulled the quilt and a pillow off of her bed and handed them to him. “Sorry, I don’t-”

He cut her off mid sentence, “No, it’s fine. I’ve had worse, trust me.”

He turned his back to her as he built a little bed on the floor, and her eyes were again drawn to the scar zigzagging down his back. She wanted to reach out and touch it. Feel how the skin rose and sank in an unnatural pattern. Before she could stop it the words had left her lips. “Nasty looking scar.” His body tensed, and she could actually feel the breath go out of him.

He turned to face her, “Uh, yeah. I guess it is.”

“How did you get it?”

He didn’t answer, and she was sure he would tell her to go to hell, or maybe even something less tame. She had gone over the edge with that one, she knew it, and he knew it. But he surprised her.

“I was in a car crash when I was eleven. I was thrown out of a side window.” he answered, his voice void of any emotion.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” she said, cursing herself for asking.

“No, it’s alright. It was a long time ago. Practically a lifetime.” He smiled sadly at her.

“So,” she said, trying to quickly change the subject, “why didn’t you want to go back to Max and Isabel’s?” It was obvious that he wasn’t comfortable talking about the accident, yet it nagged at her. Max had only told her the basics, but she could tell there was more behind it. Usually, Max was up front with her about everything, but there was something he wasn’t telling her about this. That drove her curiosity. He didn’t respond. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Then, his voice cut through the silence.

“I don’t think I can stand to hear it, Liz.”

She was puzzled, “Hear what?”

“Their sorrys. Max telling me that I should have come to him, Isabel crying, asking why I left, Michael...” his voice trailed off and his head fell.

The question was nagging at her and she couldn’t let it go without at least asking, “Why did you leave?”

His head shot up. She could almost feel his blue eyes boring into her. And then suddenly a connection was formed. It was much more extreme than anything she and Max had ever done, more violent. He was pulling her into his mind without even a touch, or permission for that matter. It was dark, but she could see a car lying on its side. She could feel his fear, pain, anger, loneliness. There was blood on the road, on his hands, all over. In the distance she could hear a women’s voice screaming in agony. She was screaming his name, screaming for God to help her, screaming for God to kill her. An intense wave of helplessness washed over her. Between that and the physical pain, she couldn’t breath. Then, as soon as it had began, it was over. She was back in her room. Almost instinctively she checked her hands for blood, but saw none. All she saw was Tristan staring at her, his face twisted in confusion and terror.

“Tristan,” she said softly, still trying to catch her breath, “what was that? What just happened?”

He began to back away from her. “Oh my god, oh my god.” he repeated quietly to himself. He put his hands to his head and ran them through his soft, blond hair. His eyes were wide with fear and disgrace.

“Tristan, please, what just happened?” she asked quietly advancing on him as he continued to back away from her.

His back hit the wall. “Liz, please, don’t. Please.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

Despite his request for her to stay away, she continued to advance. “Tristan, I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to know what happened.” she spoke in low tones, afraid of scaring him away.

Suddenly he lashed out at her, “You saw what happened! You saw it! You heard my Mother scream for me, scream for my help. You saw me just lay there, worthless, unable to even move! You saw me leave my parents to die! You saw me leave the only people who ever really loved me to die!”

Liz stood stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it, unable to find the words. Before she knew what was going on, he grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall by her shoulders, a little more violently than he had meant to. She let out a gasp but still said nothing.

“Please,” he begged her, “please don’t tell them. God, I am begging you, don’t tell them.” His voice had taken on a desperate tone. She knew he wasn’t talking about the crash now. He was talking about what had just happened. The connection. She could do nothing but nod yes to his plea. “I have to go.” he said quickly, grabbing his shirt.

“No!” she shouted, finally finding her voice, “Don’t, please.”

He stared at her, a bewildered look on his face.

“Please, stay. You don’t have anywhere else to go. Stay.”

He looked off to the side for a moment, gazing at the windows that led to the balcony. His eyes slowly came to focus on hers. The coldness in them had disappeared along with the tears, and he looked a little less shell shocked, a little more...human again. A shiver went through her body and a sudden attack of light headedenss followed it. She sat down heavily on her bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked with concern. He reached his hand out to touch her shoulder, but she flinched away from it. She immediately regretted what she had done when she saw the look of hurt wash over his face. He slowly withdrew his hand and took a step back from her. “Sorry.” he said, his voice was so low she almost didn’t hear it.

“Maybe we should get some sleep.” she tried to keep her voice calm.

“Yeah.”

He laid down on the floor at the foot of her bed, as she turned out the light and got into bed. “Goodnight, Tristan.” she said to the darkness.

He didn’t respond.

Max gently placed the phone back in its cradle. “He’s fine, he’s at Liz’s.”

“Thank god. When are they coming over?” Isabel said, finally letting the breath out that she had been holding for hours.

“They’re... not. They’re gonna stay there tonight.”

“What? Why?”

Max turned away from her, unable to look at the hurt and confusion on her face. He silently cursed Tristan for doing this to her. She didn’t need any more to worry about.

“I don’t like it.” her voice was calm, but it had an edge of fear to it.

“That makes two of us.” All Max could think about was Tristan and Liz sleeping together in the same room. ‘This is stupid.’ he thought to himself, ‘Liz loves me.’ But yet, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head. Yeah, Liz did love him, and God knew he loved her, but Tristan could be awfully charming. And Isabel had told him time and time again just how good looking he was.

“No, Max, you aren’t listening to me!” Isabel’s shout brought him out of his thoughts. “I don’t like it, there something really off.”

“What are you getting at Is?”

“I want to try to dreamwalk. On Tristan.”

“Good luck.” Michael’s sarcastic voice piped up from the corner. Max had almost forgotten he was there.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she struck back.

“You know what it means. You could never dreamwalk on Tristan, none of us could. Or did you forget that little fact?”

“Is, he’s right. We could never get into his dreams. I don’t see why it would be any different now.”

“Why couldn’t you get in?” Maria asked. She had been sitting next to Alex on the floor for nearly an hour. She doubted the three aliens even noticed they were there.

“I don’t know. We never figured out why.” Max answered, “Maybe Tristan just blocked his feelings too well, put up some sort of unconscious wall. Like people who block out painful memories. But whatever it was, we could never get in.”

“Tristan? But he seems so... open, happy. I mean, yeah, he had a crappy childhood and stuff, but come on, so did Michael, and you can get into his dreams, right?” Maria said, looking at Max, then Isabel and finally Michael.

Ever since Tristan had left the Crashdown that evening, he had retreated into himself. He had become the stonewall again.

“Hey, Max, can I talk to you? Privately.” Alex asked, motioning towards the door.

“Yeah, sure.” Max said, giving Isabel a look, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Alex walked down the hall into the living room. On a shelf were a group of pictures. A few of Max and Isabel as children, a few of their parents long ago, and three that stood out from the rest. They were slightly off to the side, and Alex bent down to look at them. He immediately realized that they were all photos of Tristan; Tristan and Max, Tristan and Isabel, Tristan, Max and Michael. He hesitantly picked up the first photo. It was taken when Max and Tristan were probably around ten, and it showed them walking down a beach. Tristan had his arm around Max’s shoulder, and they looked, well, the first word that came to Alex’s mind was brotherly. After another moment, he put the picture down, and picked up the second one. It was one of Isabel and Tristan. They were probably eleven or twelve years old because Isabel was already starting to develop. Tristan was holding a Coke can, and smiling that damn dimpled smile. Isabel was delightedly laughing at something, ‘probably some whimsical remark from Tristan’, Alex thought bitterly. As his mind wandered, wondering exactly what Isabel was laughing at, he heard a someone clear his throat behind him. “Oh, hey Max.” he said, turning to face him.

“Man, I haven’t seen these in years.” he said taking the photo out of Alex’s hand. “Tristan was teaching her to drink soda out of a Twizzler made into a straw. He called it mother nature's straw.” Max laughed at the memory of it. He picked up the third one of him, Tristan and Michael. They were standing side by side with Michael in the middle, a slight smile on his face. Alex wondered if that was the only time Michael had ever smiled for a picture.

“You know,” Max said, staring at the photo in his hand, “My Dad used to say that Tristan was our equalizer.”

Alex gave him a questioning look.

“He would say that I was the sensitive, quiet one. Michael was the wild, brazen one, and Tristan, he was the one who kept us together. The median between Michael and my personalities.”

“The balance.” Alex said quietly.

Max smiled slightly, “Yeah, but without all the sweat and cobwebs.”

He picked up another photo. It was toward the back and Alex hadn’t noticed it. It was a picture of just Tristan. He must have been at least thirteen. He was standing on a small bridge, looking out onto the water, obviously unaware his photograph was being taken. A look of infinite sadness overshadowed his face. “Just two weeks before he left.” Max said, not even trying to hide the sadness in his voice.

“Why are there so many pictures of him?” Alex asked, “Of Tristan, that is.”

“My parents always liked him. I think they felt bad about his... situation.”

“But Michael was in the same situation, and there aren’t any of him.”

“Yeah, but it was different somehow with Tristan. Michael almost seemed to fit where he was, but Tristan...”

“Didn’t.” Alex answered for him.

Neither said anything for a few minutes, as Max continued to look at the other photos.

“Did they ever want to adopt him?” Alex asked.

Max turned toward his friend, an unreadable look on his face. “I don’t know.” he looked back at the picture again, “You know, whenever he was out with us, people would comment on how much he looked like my Mom. She always seemed happy when someone told her that.” Max shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Just about the whole Isabel Tristan thing.” Max raised his eyebrows and Alex quickly continued on, “You know, the flirting and any chance of romance.”

“Feeling a little green?” Max asked with a slight smile.

“Just call me Kermit.”

“Alex, you don’t have anything to worry about. Anything that happened between them happened a long time ago. And anyway, Isabel loves you.” Max told him, telling himself the same thing.

When Liz awoke, the sun was shining, and the birds were chirping. She almost laughed out loud. ‘It was a dream, that had to have been a dream.’ she thought to herself. But when she sat up she saw a glimpse of an arm at the foot of her bed. It wasn’t a dream. It was the first time she had seen him with his eyes closed. He seemed not completely whole without those piercingblue eyes staring out at her. His blond hair was feathered across his forehead and it gave him acertain boyish look. She wondered how long it had been since he had felt like a boy. Her eyes moved down his bare chest, which she tried not to notice, to focus on his hip. His pants rode down just enough to reveal a small patch of his plaid boxer shorts. She wondered if she should wake him, but before she had too much time to think about it, he stirred on his own. He sat up and caught her staring at him once again.

“Just can’t get enough of my body can you?” he smiled. It was meant to be a joke, but fell flat. Before the awkward silence could get any longer, he asked, “Uh, shower?”

Liz was jerked awake. Was he inviting her to take a shower with him? She could see his face. It had been a question, not an invitation. He had meant where could he take a shower. “Um, yeah. Just down the hall. Towels are in the closet next to it.”

“Thanks.” he said, quickly exiting the room.

Liz fell back onto her bed with a small thud. Just as she had closed her eyes, the phone rang. “Hello.” she said, surprised at how scratchy her voice sounded.

“Hi, it’s Max.” Even though they had been dating for over a year, and had spoken to each other on the phone tens of thousands of times, he still always identified himself. As if she wouldn’t have known his voice from any other man’s on Earth.

“How did you sleep?” he asked sweetly.

“Good, good.” she said, stretching, her voice still scratchy from sleep, “You?”

“Fine.”

There was a sudden lull in the converstation.

“So, how is Tristan?” Max asked cautiously. He really wanted to know every detail of everything that had happened during the night, but he didn’t want to seem to obsessive.

“He’s good. He’s showering.” Liz answered, wondering why she added the last part.

“Oh.” he wasn’t sure how to respond to that information. At least Liz wasn’t in the shower with him. “So, um, we’ll come over there. Say, in about forty-five minutes?”

“Yeah, okay. That’s sounds good.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, bye.” she hung up.