Title: Time After Time

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This is a very short chapter. I really just wrote it because I wanted to give a glimpse of the future, of what the world is like now that Khivar has taken over. The next chapter will take us back to the present, and it will be normal length.

Also, I made Vilandra (the past-life, not the dupe) a bit more evil in my story than she actually was on the show.


Chapter Twenty-Nine: Imperfect Future

Ten years in the future...

When the fiery anger finally left Michael's eyes, Alex almost wished it would return. He could stand anger. He could stand rage, fury, wrath. But this emptiness, this hurt and pain and anguish... It left him feeling sick and guilty and frustrated all at the same time.

It had been a very long time since he and Michael saw eye-to-eye on anything. It had been a very long time since they had managed to have any form of conversation that did not end with furious words and shouts and threats. But he still cared about the hybrid general, if only because, in those stormy eyes, he saw a reflection of the one woman he had ever truly loved. Like Max, Michael was a tie to Isabel, his Isabel, now that she was gone.

"I want her back too, Alex," Michael said softly, turning away from the human. "Max and I... we want so desperately to save her from this. But you have to understand our position. We can't just..."

And that was all it took for the temper to flare once more, and any guilt Alex might have been feeling was washed away by the sudden flood of helpless fury that filled every single cell of his body. "No," he said, his words bitter, "I suppose you can't save her, can you?"

Michael stepped back as though he had been slapped.

The argument was alwasy the same, like reheasing steps to a dance. Alex would accuse them of leaving Isabel to her fate, Max and Michael would retort by saying that they just couldn't save her, Alex would reply that they weren't trying hard enough, and everything would almost come to blows.

"Stop it, both of you," a voice interrupted, and a dark-haired woman stepped into the room, green eyes flashing with anger. "You are not helping the situation any by arguing."

Alex looked at her for a moment, then said, "Of course not. Nobody is ever helping the situation. We just sit here and let Khivar destroy everything."

"We did not let this happen," Michael hissed. "We fought him. Or did you forget that, Alex? Did you forget all the times we almost died protecting you? Protecting our base?"

"Did you forget the one time Max turned his back on us?" Alex answered, a memory flashing through his mind. He had sworn to himself a long time ago that, no matter what, he would never use Maria's death against Michael. No matter how angry he became, no matter how much he wanted to hurt the taciturn General, he would never use that day in an argument. Never.

But that promise was forgotten, and as soon as he said the words he found he was far too livid to stop. Sentences came tumbling out, words and phrases backed by years of hiding and fighting and all the grief that came with losing everything and everyone he had ever loved.

"Did you forget that, Michael? Did you forget how Max was too caught up in his own life to realize what was happening to the rest of us? Did you forget how Maria paid the price for your King's selfish blindness?" The image of Maria's body, lifeless, cold, covered in bruises, passed before his eyes. He had not forgotten what had happened, and he certainly had not forgotten the role Max had played in bringing about the death of his best friend.

Michael's face was pale and bloodless, but his eyes smoldered with emotion as he answered, "Of course I have not forgotten that day, Alex. Nor the day Tess died. And who was responsible for that?"

"Stop it!" the dark-haired woman practically screeched. "Stop it, now!"

"As you wish, Serena," Michael sneered, and walked from the room.

Alex sank back onto the sofa and stared about him. The room was nothing more than a bunker, cement walls and bars across the windows to protect them from an attack. Of course, that protection would not be enough if the skins ever figured out just exactly where they were. They were protected by their secrecy more than any physical structure, and he knew that that would only last for a matter of time.

They would not win this war.

Serena glanced at him, admonishment in her eyes. "How could you?" she asked softly, taking a seat across from him on a three-legged stool.

Alex met her gaze and shook his head. "I said what was true," he insisted. The fall-out was not entirely his fault, he knew, although if he were honest with himself, he had played a role in it. But they had fractured and fallen so far, and he was almost positive there was no way they could reform themselves into the group they had once been. With Maria, Liz, and Tess all gone, and Isabel now their enemy, there was nothing left to hold the three original Roswellians together, and every day Michael and Max drifted just a little bit further away from their human one-time friend.

Serena did not answer. He knew she had been working on a plan, although she had been very tight-lipped on what it might be. Her gaze was far away, lost in her own thoughts, and he stared moodily through the thin slits between the bars in the window and wished they could all be made whole again.


When Liz had left, the first thing Max had felt was anger. How could she just walk out on them after all that had happened? How could she abandon these people when they were in the middle of fighting a war?

The next emotion was guilt. Even after Courtney's little mind trick had worn off and he had become Max Evans once again, he had not paid Liz any attention. He had been far too caught up in his own pain at all the things he had done, all the people he had killed while pretending to be this king from another time and place. And he had sought help from Michael, Isabel, and Tess because they understood what it felt like to know that it was kill or be killed, and they would have to take many more lives before this was all over. And so he had not seen the pain in Liz's eyes or the resignation in her expression. He had not realized just how much he was driving her away...

...until she left.

The third emotion was determination. Determination to bring her back. He was temporarily thwarted by Mr. Parker, who refused to give Max Liz's contact information and made it very clear that his daughter was not going to be returning from her prestigious boarding school any time soon. She would finish her third and fourth years of high school there, go to Harvard, and become and molecular biologist. And nothing, not even pleas from Max, could change Mr. Parker's mind on that.

It was three weeks after Liz had left that he felt the final emotion. Complete, uncontrollable, indescribable anguish.

It was three weeks after Liz had left Roswell that Khivar showed up in the sleepy little desert town, his face filled with ruthless triumph and mocking cruelty, and had carelessly tossed Liz's lifeless body at Max's feet.


When Max had left, the first emotion Isabel had felt was fear. It had been only about five weeks since the Harvest, and so much had changed in that time. Max had finally returned to his normal personality and had been so consumed by self-loathing for all the things he had done under the influence of his past-life, and Courtney and Trevor had brought chaos into their lives. This, combined with her own concerns about Vilandra, had left her so exhausted and weary, that when Liz had returned, dead, Isabel had been far too numb to think of anything at all. So when Max had left, intent on finding revenge, she had felt fear. How was she supposed to do this without him?

Then came the anger. How dare he leave them all now, right when they needed him the most? Didn't he know that this was a war? Did he see just how important he was, just how much they relied on him?

And then there was there was the worry. He was alone, by himself, caught up in his own grief, pursuing a murderer, a vicious alien killer who would most likely destroy him.

But the final emotion was, once again, fear. Because, with Max off pursuing his own agenda, they were vulnerable. She had spent so much time worrying about what would happen to Max, she never even thought about what would happen to them. And when the skins attacked, when Maria threw herself in front of a burst of energy meant for Michael and died before their very eyes... then she was back to feeling fear.


When Isabel left, the one and only emotion Alex had felt was despair. It had been six years since the deaths of Liz and Maria, since Max had become a broken, unrecognizable man, since Michael had become embittered and angry, since they had fled Roswell and everything they had ever known for a life of constant fighting and hiding and praying to God for some kind of miracle.

He never knew how Khivar had found them. The attack was swift, sudden... and unstoppable. In the panic, in the frenzy, the only thought that had entered his mind was that he needed to find Isabel... and he did.

Tess was screaming at him to stop, because she had already realized what he had yet to notice - this was not Isabel.

He never knew how Khivar had gotten to her, how he had reawakened the part of her she fought so hard to keep at bay. But too late he had seen the darkness in those eyes.

He should have escaped. He would have, too, had he not been so horrified. Had he not been so sure he could save her. Max and Michael were already fading into the distance, protected by the few alien and human friends who stood beside them in this war, and they were yelling at him to come with them. But he didn't. He went after Isabel instead.

And Isabel - no, Vilandra - turned and waved her hand, a rush of fire exploding towards him with the sole intent to kill...

He had watched in numb horror as Tess pushed him out of the way, as her still body crumpled at his feet, as her eyes glazed over in pain and then shut in death... and as Isabel gave him one last look and then walked away.

With Khivar.

Standing in the ruins of their base, with Tess' dead body at his feet, watching as Isabel left and never once looked back... the one and only emotion Alex had felt was despair.


Four more years had followed. Four years of fighting. Four years of losing. Four years of watching the world destroyed around them.

Four years of pain and heartache and grief and fear and despair and terror and anger.

Four years...


Serena found Michael sitting alone on the floor of one of the many abandoned rooms. She paused in the doorway, a sympathetic expression on her face. She had never met Maria, and Michael rarely talked about her. But when he did... She knew he loved her. And she knew that not a single day went by that he did not think about her, miss her, desperately wish he could see her again.

"What do you want?" Michael snapped, glancing up at her with a fierce gaze.

Serena took a seat across from him on the floor. "Alex didn't mean..."

"Didn't he?" Michael interrupted angrily. He refused to meet Serena's gaze, and she let out a small sigh of frustration.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

"Actually," he replied in a low growl, "I was thinking about Trevor."

Serena knew better than to say anything. He rarely spoke about his brother, and if he wanted to say something now, she wasn't going to get in the way. But his face was blank and his lips remained firmly shut, and they sat in silence for a moment longer before she felt the desire to speak was just too much to ignore.

"What about him?"

Michael looked at her, his eyes darkening into something hard and terrifying. He rose to his feet in a sudden movement and began to pace like a caged tiger. Each step echoed in the stillness, bouncing off the walls. The way his body radiating fury would have frightened her had she not known him as well as she did. But they were close now, closer than he had been to any human save the original three, and she waited for him to put his turbulent thoughts into words.

"I wish he was dead."

Serena digested this cautiously, tearing apart the words and putting them back together, hoping to find something in his simple phrase besides the simmering rage. "Why?" she questioned tentatively, wondering even as she asked the single word if she really wanted to hear the answer.

"He's the enemy," Michael cried, spinning to face Serena. She no longer had any advantage over him, since she was still sitting on the floor and he towered above her. She leaned back into the wall, letting his anger wash through the air. His words came out from between clenched teeth, and she could practically feel the crackling electricity of his pain.

"He's your brother," Serena countered softly, "and he's been trying for a very long time to stay loyal to you."

Michael seemed to sag under the weight of her words. "Not enough," he whispered. "He wasn't trying enough." He looked at her, but she knew he wasn't seeing her. His gaze was unfocused, his mind lost on other, darker, thoughts. "He should have warned us..."

"Which time?" Serena asked pointedly.

"He knew, Serena!" Michael snarled, and this time the anger jumped back into his words with such intensity that Serena started, frightened. For him. Of him. He turned away and started pacing once again, loud steps filled with fervent emotion. "He had to have known about the attacks. Maria, Isabel... even Liz might still be here if he had just warned us..."

It was more complicated than that, they both knew. Trevor would never give his loyalty to Max, ever. There was too much hatred there, too many memories of Zan and the war on Antar, for Trevor ever to truly join their side. But for all his disgust for the hybrid king, there was also never any doubt in Serena's mind that Trevor would have sacrificed himself for Michael in a heartbeat. The bond of brotherhood was too strong, and he could not turn away while Michael was in danger.

And yet the things he had done... and all the things he had failed to do. All the times he hadn't warned them about an upcoming attack...

Michael might have been able to forgive him for Liz's death, or for what had happened to Isabel. He had not been directly responsible for either of those, and he had sworn before them all that he did not know they would happen until it was far too late to stop it. But Maria...

"He was too busy fighting that stupid feud with Courtney," Michael said, leaning against the wall as all the fight drained from his body. "He could never let go of his bitterness, never believe that she might be even slightly trustworthy. He knew that the skins were going to attack us then... he knew, and he made the choice to go after Courtney instead of warning us. And Maria..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to, Serena knew what he was thinking about, knew the painful memories that were moving through his mind. "I loved her."

"I know," Serena answered, even though he hadn't really been speaking to her. "And I think I have an idea for how you can save her."

He looked at her, a mixture of hope and pain reflected in his suddenly clear eyes. "What...?"

Serena smiled at him, and began to outline her idea. "Here's the thing; everything started with Liz. So that's what needs to be changed. And as long as you can get to the Granolith, this will work. Here's what you need to do..."


Next Chapter: The End of My World (in which we return to the present time)

Due: Sun 9/28