As much as Liz didn't want to hurt people, she did. Even if Isobel voluntarily took the serum, she put her in grave danger, and whatever the Evan's did that set her family up for being attacked, she didn't want to be a person to contribute to evitable violence. After Alex held her accountable for her selfishness, she made a point to not hole up in her lab all the time. Instead, she invested more time in them. Now that Mimi was in assisted living, Maria was going to need emotional support. With Alex's help, they were going to do their best to get there.

She committed to alternating with Alex to going to see "Mama DeLuca," because as much as Maria accepted needing help with her mom, Liz understood that part of that help meant being present and not hiding from Mimi out of shame. "She was good today," Liz said as they left the building.

Maria nodded, "No more Will Smith references, so pretty awesome!"

Liz laughed, the Independence Day allusions every time Mimi started thinking about aliens had become a shared bittersweet joke with them. Liz was conflicted about not telling her what she knew-that aliens were real, that she was in love with one, that they went to high school with three of them, that one of them possessed Isobel which led to Rosa dying-but, like Maria had tried to be so for so long, Liz wanted to be the fun friend.

"At least she recognized you weren't Rosa today," Maria remarked.

"Sometimes," Liz said, "I feel like she feels Rosa's spirit with me," adding, "so when she confuses us, I want to believe that Rosa joined us and is laughing with us, from the other side."

As they got in the car, Maria squeezed Liz's hand and mouthed thank you to control the tears from coming down her face. While she has had years to grieve Rosa's death, with Liz back, a new set of grief took its place. The grief of what could have been, especially considering Liz's imagined life for Rosa. Turning on the radio as they pulled out of the parking lot, Maria asked, "What are you gonna do about those pining boys?"

"What pining boys?" Liz asked as they turned on to the freeway.

"Kyle and Max?"

"Aye," Liz said shaking her hand, "Kyle and I are just friends. I can't with him," she added, shaking her head. "Not again. I can't feel what he feels, which means he wouldn't be just a distraction…"

Maria nodded reading the sign that stated their exit was 2 miles away. "I'm so glad I don't have wanted distractions to avoid. Michael's with Alex, which I never saw coming, and I got the reality show backstory to distract me."

"So you're not putting yourself out there," Liz asked switching lanes.

Maria shook her head no, "Not right now. I want to get some of my fun back, y'know," she added looking at her passenger, "I know I am not open to that spark just yet…"

"That spark can lead to forest fires," Liz thought out loud.

"Talkin about Max?"

Liz nodded, "can't seem to get him out of my mind...after everything with the shooting, Grant Green and…" her voice trailed off running through the summer of bittersweet and dramatic memories they'd started building. "And I'm not done grieving either. I lost my sister in an accident; and he almost-"

"Well, at least Isobel has been acting differently," Maria said, "she's no longer Regina George that's for sure, like taking the time to deal with her mental health issues, and that death scare she really-it really put life into perspective," Maria conclude as they exited the freeway. "I mean I don't like her...but now I don't hate 'er."

"Yeah," Liz said as they drove up to the crashdown, "it's like you can't after all she went through."

Liz lingered in the car, still in the bargaining stages of grief, that somehow was looking to last longer than anger. When Maria said, "I gotta go open Wild Pony," Liz was snapped into reality, hugged her friend and walked out to the Crashdown. From what she could see, it was an average night and her father wouldn't need any of her self. She walked up to their apartment above the cafe and started getting ready for a night in.

Looking at the room she used to share with Rosa, she realized it was time to set an intention of what she wanted her space to be like now that Rosa was gone. She had begun making order of the mess she made out of rage. Now she needed a way to organize it, a way to give herself the space to exist as the person she was becoming so she could foster the energy to invest in the woman she wanted to be. As she sat in the room that used to be Rosa's, clad in sweats, she felt her phone buzz. On looking down she saw a message from Michael.

She took in a deep breath and considered the request. She walked down the stairs to the kitchen to say hello to her dad, "Todavia 'stas aqui, hija?"

"I just got back from visiting Mimi," she answered, "I didn't make any other plans today, Apa."

"No te me conviertes en jamona," he warned, "since you've gotten here, you're either sad or angry or no se, tramando algo que te pone sad or angry…"

"I know, Apa," she sighed, "I'm working on it. Just now, I was thinking about what to do with what used to be Rosa's room," adding when her dad opened his mouth, "a way to commemorate her without being stuck in what makes me sad."

"Y on a Saturday night, m'ija, sal, encuentrate una aventura, hija," he said walking towards her, "quitate los sweats and make something more than your life than your job-

"Y tu?" she asked putting her arms on his shoulders, "I don't see you anything else but work."

"Yes," he agreed, "pero soy viejo y tu," he said hugging her and pulling out of it, "you have your whole life ahead of you…"

She took in a deep breath, and came to terms with the fact that if she didn't leave, her father would start calling her jamona.

Once back upstairs, She changed into a different pair of jeans, changed the shirt under her sweatshirt, threw it back on and headed out to Max's.

Few lights came from his house and, driving around to his patio, she found him underwhelmed by those lights, one by his face as he read a book she couldn't make out given the darkness around them. Somehow, she had been pulled into their lives because their yet identified alien kin destroyed her sisters which, in turn, put hers at risk, which in turn led him to save her. And, if it weren't for those events, he would just be a guy from Roswell who stole her heart before prom...as she got out of her car and walked towards the patio chair on the other side of Max, she ached for the innocence they all had before Rosa died. She ached for how simple life had been then.

The sound of footsteps against the gravel in his patio lifted his eyes. Despite the contrast of light and dark, he could make the figure of a petite brunette who walked with the strength of a hurricane coming towards him. After everything, she could still quicken his heart with the amount of closeness between them. "What are you doing here," he asked closing his book?

"Michael," she answered as his features became sharper. While the bullet wound had healed, the rest of his body appeared to still be holding onto pain.

He rose out of his chair and stood with his arms crossed. She wasn't here because he needed her. Not like before he told her the truth. He lowered his arms when he realized where they were now was because of the lies he kept from her since before she left. "He needs to mind his own business-"

"Drinking your grief away isn't going to help, Max," she said, "you gotta talk it out."

"Talk out what?! That we came here escaping a civil war; that we came with a person who wants to destroy us one way or another. THat your sister got caught up in that and that we're being hunted by the father of Michael's boyfriend...that he's been tracking us for years?!"

"Yeah," she answered, "no matter what happened, people care about you."

"The wrong information in the wrong hands and-

"You could lose your family?" Liz interrupted, "I know the feeling."

"I sometimes wonder what would have happened if you never came back," he thought out loud, "we were fine-

"No," she interrupted again, "you weren't. And don't you think I think that? That I should have just married Diego. That I should have left not knowing alone. That I should have bypassed Roswell on my way to California-flown instead of driven?"

"Liz-"

"We all lost something that summer, Max!" Liz exclaimed, "We all have something we want to take back…"

Max turned to walk inside, not wanting to argue with her or really engage in anything else he couldn't address. Liz, however, caught the door before it closed all the way and continued saying in a softer tone, "You can't shut everyone one of us out, Max."

He wouldn't turn to look at her, taking in all the books he had read, mostly about men unhappy with their lives and dreaming they could wish to be anyone else or anywhere else than where they were-The Great Gatsby, Catcher in the Rye, most of Hemingway-white men who had enough and yet still, still wanted more. There was a reason he was getting lost in those books because, as much as he was frustrated that he, Michael and Isobel were seen as a terrorist threat, he looked like men and had begun acting like men who caused the real terror if not benefited from not paying attention to how they affected people. "I don't know what I deserve," Max breathed, "I get lost in books I can't write; I am not a person who's done a good job of protecting people," he turned to her and said, "what can I ask of anyone?"