In the Sleep of Death, What Dreams May Come
Disclaimer: I do not own "Roswell." Wish that I did, but I don't. Excuse me while I go cry and watch Jimmy Stewart movies.
By: He's a slim jim
Chapter 1
Glass crunched in a calloused hand, a protest erupted out from behind the young man. "Dammit Michael, you just destroyed evidence," shouted a hoarse but familiar voice. Michael opened his hand and aromatherapy oil dripped down. It was mixed with blood, his blood.
"Shut up! Besides, I know who did this, it was the damn F.B.I.!"
"Best not to jump to conclusions this early in the game, Michael. This could just be a simple mistake," said a calm Max.
"Mistake, my ass! Are you blind? Look what they did to Maria!" Max Evans glanced down at Maria DeLuca, who was laying unconscious on the apartment floor. Her face was flushed, she looked so pale. The only color on her were her lips, they were bright red. There was a gash by her eye, Max reasoned that she probably got it when she fell. Her long, blonde hair was covering most of her face. He noticed that she was still in her uniform from the Crashdown. "Oh God, I told her to meet me here after she got off work. She was working the late shift, but she must of asked to leave early. I told her that I had a surprise planned for her."
Max snorted, "I hope it is better than the shampoo and conditioner in one."
"Shut up Maxwell! I was planning on cooking dinner for her. I even asked her mom for help, and that was total hell She kept on smacking me upside the head when I did things wrong. Then she shook her finger at me and said 'Michael Guerin, you better not have any after dinner plans involving my daughter!' Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut?" Michael bent down to pick up Maria.
"Michael, until we know exactly what is wrong with her, you probably shouldn't move her out of the apartment."
"You know Maxwell, I'm not as stupid as you think I am." With Maria in his arms, he shrugged. "You think I want to explain this to her mother? She would probably think I drugged her or something, and then she would try to sic Valenti on me. I was taking her to my room. Hello Futonville!"
Max nodded once, and then picked up the cordless phone. "I'm going to call Liz, she needs to be here."
"Tell her to hurry," called out the strained voice. Both men turned to face a haggard Alex Whitman. He held up his shirt slightly, revealing a disfiguring scar that started out behind his right ear and ran down his neck, chest and stomach, disappearing after hitting the waistband of his pajama pants. It was glowing bright green. Max and Michael shaded their eyes. The light was intense, it shone out like a beacon. "They have Isabel. They've taken my sweet Izzy."