CHAPTER 36

Weighed down by depression, Michael watched the scenery flicker past the window as the Jeep rolled smoothly down the highway. He was aware that Isabel and Max hadn't missed his mood. They probably thought he should be all happy or whatever--or at least as happy as he was capable of. After all, hadn't he saved Maria and her mother, vanquished Max's would-be murderer, and gotten control over his powers in the process?

But his two oldest friends didn't know everything that had happened. They probably thought his current black mood was due to lack of sleep or anger and shame about the mark he bore.

Not that all that wasn't part of it, if a small part. But there was more that they had no idea about, because he hadn't told them.

He hadn't told them about his fight with Maria. And they wouldn't have picked up on it from her behavior; she'd acted like all was well in her world when the group had assembled this morning. Plus she'd smiled and made friendly chit-chat over lunch at the small diner where they'd stopped. And though she'd carefully maneuvered things so she rode in the convertible, away from Michael, she'd even made a point of sitting next to him as they ate. He figured that was just so she wouldn't have to look at him across the table, though. But her pretense fooled everyone. Unless she'd said something to Liz, it wasn't likely anyone else had a clue that there was something just the slightest bit off about her demeanor. And since she'd gone off on some wild, typically Maria-like rant about something or other, reducing all of the rest of them to stitches--even Tess--Michael didn't think they were gonna catch on to the fact that he and Maria weren't...well, he didn't know what they weren't. Or what they were, for that matter. That was gonna be up to her. And since she wasn't giving him any hints, he couldn't tell Max or Isabel, not even if he wanted to.

Michael also hadn't told anyone about forcing Bob into a shape he couldn't shift out of. Hadn't told of the wave of sheer instinctual terror that had burst through the link as Bob realized just what was being done to him.

Or the horror of Michael himself realizing that he was condemning another being to a living imprisonment, far worse than the mental prison he'd subjected himself to earlier that fall. At least a part of him had been free to wander around, even if the other part was trapped in a cell of his own making. And thanks to Maria and his friends, he'd been able to pull himself out of it. But in Bob's case, the prisoner would be powerless to do anything except be.

Michael hadn't even known it was possible to shift into something other than a humanoid shape until Nasedo had told him so. On his own, Bob probably didn't have the talent to accomplish a shift like that; he had just enough ability to get by. But with a surge of energy from Michael and Nasedo's implacable guidance, Bob had taken the form--no, he'd been forced into a form that was remarkably like the concrete walls and floors that surrounded them. A form that couldn't move, couldn't communicate, couldn't even end its own existence just to stop its suffering. He was trapped. And the mental torture wouldn't end until, somewhere across space, Michael's mother died and allowed her brother to finally escape into nothingness.

And even though Michael knew what the shapeshifter had done to him, had wanted done to Max, even though he was protecting the people he cared about, it didn't change the fact that he wasn't condemning some unknown stranger. Bob was one-half of his family, family Michael hadn't even known existed just a few days ago. His link to home, however tainted that link was. And the now-trapped shapeshifter was the only family Michael would ever meet.

Because worst of all, he hadn't told Max or Isabel that their planet, the one they were supposed to save, was off-limits. That even if they found a way to get there, they couldn't survive it, because their stupid hybrid bodies weren't made to exist there. The very changes that had allowed them to live on this adopted world had destroyed any chance of their ever going home. Their real home.

And the dream that Michael had held on to for dear life, ever since he'd realized what he was--no, since long before he'd understood just why he felt so different from the people around him--that dream had been torn away from him, stripped from the very bones and sinews that held him together. His entire foundation was gone.

And how could anything else--saving lives, having functioning powers, anything--how could any of it stand against the force of that blow?

A honk of the Jeep's horn dragged him out of his misery long enough to realize they'd arrived back in Roswell. Max had evidently used the horn to signal a goodbye to the others, because he turned right while in front of them the convertible continued straight on.

"We'll drop you off first, Alex, if that's okay," Max suggested.

"No problem."

Michael shot a quick glance over to the other side of the car. He'd almost forgotten Alex was there, he'd been so intent on his own thoughts. Strange that he should feel enough at ease with a human to completely forget his presence. He'd seen Alex's loyalty and support of his friends, but he'd never expected to be so comfortable with him. With any human, for that matter. For the first time, Michael actually considered Alex as an individual in his own right, rather than an appendage of Maria or Liz. And he rather regretted his own inability to build relationships. Because he suspected that a friendship with the other guy--a real friendship, not one based on necessity and shared secrets--might just be worthwhile.

Not that he was likely to find out.

Anyway, it was probably a good idea to drop Alex off. There were things he needed to tell Max and Isabel, and he didn't particularly want an audience. Yeah, the others would find out soon enough, but this was stuff that affected the aliens directly. Max and Isabel should hear first. They were in it together.

Damn. That meant Tess should probably be there too. It affected her just as much as it did Max and Isabel. Whether or not it felt that way, she was one of them. They were all in the same boat. Michael thought about tracking her down, finding a time to tell all three of them together; then he abandoned the idea.

The hell with it. His first loyalty was to his two closest friends. Tess would just have to wait. Because he had to tell them, and soon, before it ate away at him entirely.

He managed to grunt a goodbye as Alex got out of the Jeep at his own house, but the guy didn't seem to take offense at his gruffness. With a grin and a small wave, Alex started up the sidewalk to his front door.

"Why don't you come home with us, Michael? You can stay for dinner," Isabel suggested as Max swung the vehicle back onto the road.

No way. The ideal perfection of the Evans household would only make what he had to say seem worse by contrast. If that was even possible. Michael cleared his throat. "Let's go to my place," he countered. "We uh...we need to talk." The two glanced back curiously but didn't ask any questions, and Michael couldn't bring himself to say anything else on the ride across town.

He didn't know if it was the built-up tension of the last few days or being crammed into the Jeep's back seat for hours that caused it, but, once inside his apartment, he couldn't settle down. He let his friends sit gingerly on his lumpy couch, but stayed on his feet, pacing back and forth across the confines of the room. Not for the first time, he wished he had an ease with words. He'd read enough--in private--to have a decent vocabulary. So why was it that at times like this, when his two best friends were expectantly waiting, the words deserted him? And left him to stumble along like a complete idiot? He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. It didn't help.

"Okay, what's going on?" Isabel finally demanded. "You're going to wear a hole in the carpet. And you don't have all that much carpet to spare."

A million thoughts tumbled through Michael's head. How to say exactly what he needed to? There was so much...but it had to be done. He opened his mouth, ready to speak calmly, coherently. To explain things fully. Instead, what came out was simply, "We're screwed."

Max sat straighter on the couch, suddenly alert. "What do you mean? Did it not work with Bob?"

Michael was quick to dismiss that worry. "Yeah, it worked. I told you it did, didn't I? Bob isn't gonna bother anyone again. Ever." He forced himself to go on. "What I'm talking about is us. The reason we're here. The reason we even exist at all."

"You're making me dizzy, Michael," Isabel complained. "Stop pacing and get to the point, okay?"

For once he did exactly as he was asked. Stopping in his tracks, he shouted, "We can't save our home planet! Is that pointy enough for you, Iz?" The words poured, jumbled, from his mouth. "They fucked with our DNA or whatever so we could survive on Earth, and now we'll never be able to go home because of it! Our stupid hybrid bodies can't exist there. The only reason we're even alive is to save our planet, but they made that fucking impossible! Our whole existence is...is pointless!"

And then he stood there, his former nervous agitation drained from him. Okay. It was out, all of it. They knew. He stared down at the floor and was silent.

His friends weren't any noisier. Brother and sister sat, blank looks on their faces. Michael sighed.

"Hey," he barked. "Did you guys even hear me?"

It was enough to snap them out of their daze.

"We heard," Max said slowly. "It's just...a shock, that's all."

"I know. It sucks."

Isabel didn't look convinced. "I don't mean to doubt you, Michael, but...how do you know?"

"Bob told me."

"And you believed him?" she pressed, her face serious. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but he held your girlfriend and her mother hostage; kidnapped, drugged and branded you; and tried to get you to kill one of your best friends. So why are you--the living, breathing embodiment of suspicion--so willing to accept his word?"

"Because it makes sense!" Michael shot back hotly. "Bob is...was...a shapeshifter, even if it wasn't his main talent. You think it's just a coincidence that both of the full-blooded aliens we've met have been shapeshifters? With all the things out there they could be able to do, they had that in common?"

"You don't know that it's unusual," Max pointed out.

"Well, if it's such an everyday thing, how come none of us can do it?" Michael challenged. "You heal, Isabel dreamwalks, Tess plays stupid mindgames, and I hold energy. Not a shapeshifter in the bunch, right?"

Max nodded, and Michael continued, "So pretend you're one of the idiots who got us in this mess in the first place. You've gone to the trouble of mixing our DNA with human. Why do that if you didn't have to, so we could survive?"

"Maybe it's not about surviving the planet, but surviving the people," Isabel said thoughtfully. "Trying to keep us from being found out."

"Then why send us? Why not send a bunch of shapeshifters?"

"Because they're not of royal blood," Isabel shot back.

Michael scoffed, "Hate to break it to you, Iz, but neither am I, I don't think. You and Max have that market cornered."

"There has to be a reason the four of us were sent," Max put in. "And why tell us it's to save our planet if it's not true? But if altering us so we could survive keeps us from helping them...it does seem rather short-sighted of them."

"See what I mean? I told you, we're screwed."

"We don't know that for sure," Isabel said firmly. "I think we should talk to Nasedo. See what he has to say about it."

Max nodded. "Good idea, Izzy."

"If it's true that we can't go home, all it does is prove that there's no such thing as destiny. And Michael," she pointed out, "you were against the whole destiny thing anyway."

"I was against the being together part. But the other part--the saving our planet part..." His had to swallow to be able to get the words out. "Nothing here ever mattered, not Hank, not going hungry half the time, not the shithole I had to live in, because this wasn't where I was supposed to be. There was something better out there. But if this is all there is...." His voice caught in his throat. "Then what did all that happen for?"

"Oh, Michael," Isabel said, sounding stricken. For a moment, Michael thought she was going to cry. Isabel in tears was not something he wanted to see. Especially if it was over him.

To his immense relief, she controlled it. Rising to her feet, she crossed to him, arms outstretched. But he stepped back, his jaw tightening. He shook his head and managed one more word.

"Don't."

"Michael, it's okay to feel," she protested.

But Michael wasn't about to let things get any more out of hand than they already were. He wasn't emotionally stunted; he knew all about feeling. But he was so practiced at covering it up that it had grown to be second nature. And right now the carefully-learned instinct to close off was stronger than anything else.

He was damned if he was going to let it show. Michael Guerin--except on one rare occasion in Maria's arms, during a rainstorm--did not let his emotions loose to that extent. At least not these emotions. Anger and impatience, sure, but not this. He wouldn't let himself be this weak.

So it was with gratitude that he heard Max speak.

"Well, I guess this means I don't have to be a king," Max mused philosophically. "So you two can quit blindly obeying my every command."

It was enough to break the mood. Isabel blinked back any remaining threat of tears and smiled.

"Yes, because we both did that so well," she riposted. Even Michael allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards slightly. Encouraged, she asked him, "So what next?"

Michael hesitated, then said, "Tell Tess, I guess. Talk to Nasedo. And then...I don't know." A thought occurred to him, and his spirits lightened a little. At least this whole fiasco would do some good for someone. "We'll have to tell the others, too," he said slowly, looking at Max. Who didn't seem to get it. Okay, so he'd have to spell it out for him. "It means there's nothing coming between you and Liz any more."

Max sat, taking this in, while his sister smiled warmly at him. "That's true," she said.

"That's supposing she still wants--"

But Isabel interrupted her brother. "Oh please," she scoffed. "You know very well that she does. It's only fair you should get a little happiness."

"It would change things," Max admitted. "I'm sorry, Michael." The concern was clear in his eyes. "I know how much this all meant to you."

Michael shrugged. He wasn't going to be able to deal with things any time soon, but he didn't need to suck the others into his depression. "I'm not the only one who suddenly has no purpose," he pointed out, trying to keep things in the lighter mood of a few moments ago. "I guess you two are just gonna have to go back to being perfect teenagers."

Neither of them was willing to go along with it. "What are you going to do?" Isabel asked, her expression serious.

"Get some sleep, go to school, find another job."

"Another job?" Max queried.

"I was on probation the last time I missed a few days," he explained with a shrug. He nodded in the direction of his answering machine. The message light was blinking. "That's probably telling me I'm fired."

"Michael, if you need--"

"I'll be fine, Maxwell." Michael managed to summon half a smile. "I'm a survivor, remember?"

"I don't--" began Isabel.

"Quit playing mother, Iz. I'm fine. I can handle this."

"I know you can," she assured him. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to help."

His hand snuck up to his cheek. "You want to help, come up with a way to get rid of this. Other than that, I'm cool."

"We could always hide it. A good foundation can cover up almost anything," she suggested as she appraised the mark.

"A what?"

"Foundation. Make-up, Michael."

He shook his head vehemently. What the hell was she thinking? "No way. I'd rather be a tattooed freak than a freak in make-up."

"Okay, okay. We'll come up with something else, then," she said hastily.

"Good. So why don't you head out and get started on that?" he suggested, herding them towards the door. "Last coupla days haven't exactly been restful. I could really stand to crash."

Reaching out, he swung his front door open for them, only to stop in surprise. A familiar form was standing in the hallway. Ed Harding, wearing an expression Michael had seen just a few weeks ago, at Tess's house. An expression of sheer rage.

"Where is it?" the shapeshifter demanded.


*****

Running the comb through her damp hair, Maria stared silently out the window. She supposed she should be pulling out her books--she had homework that she'd put off in favor of hunting for Michael--but she couldn't bring herself to concentrate.

She'd spent the entire day pretending that nothing was wrong, that she was totally carefree; now she was just tired. Content to be by herself for once, where she didn't have to wear any kind of mask. Where she didn't have to fool anyone.

Michael alone hadn't bought into her facade. But then he knew what had happened last night, when they'd had their...disagreement. Unless he'd told Max or Isabel about it--and she doubted he had--they were just as clueless about it as everyone else.

And then on top of playing Miss Congeniality all day, she'd had to deal with her mother's total overprotection when she'd arrived back home. Her mother had made some of her favorite dishes for dinner, which would have been nice if she'd felt the least bit hungry; but the constant hovering was driving Maria crazy. Luckily, Mom hadn't asked that many questions, so Maria hadn't had to share any details other than the bare facts. Yes, she was all right. Yes, they'd found Michael. Yes, he was fine too. No, the alien who'd taken him wasn't going to be a problem any more. No--and here she'd had to swallow hard--they hadn't killed him. And again, she was fine. Really.

She'd only escaped by claiming she wanted a shower and then had homework to do. Her mother couldn't argue against homework, could she? And even then, when Maria returned to her room, pajama-clad and with her hair in a towel, she'd found a plate of ginger cookies and a cup of herbal tea on her desk. Study snacks, to go along with the homework she had to do.

Homework she was busily not doing.

She ran the comb mechanically through her hair one more time, then set it down and rested her chin on her fist.

It had seemed like they were making such progress, she and Michael. They'd argued, but they'd certainly made up. She closed her eyes as she remembered how she'd kissed him, like she'd been afraid she would never see him again. And after all that, after everything they'd been through--even after he'd let slip that he loved her--he couldn't venture an opinion about whether or not they should be in a relationship? What kind of love was that?

With a groan, Maria collapsed backwards onto the bed. And she didn't move except to breathe. And occasionally blink.

She didn't even move when her cell phone rang. There wasn't anyone she wanted to talk to at that particular moment. She should have just shut it off in the first place. And she should definitely have chosen a different personalized ring. Because if that incessant, annoying excuse for a tune didn't stop right this minute--

"What?" she snapped into the phone.

A beat, then Alex's startled voice. "Maria?"

Oh. Ohhhhh. "Sorry, Alex," she said quickly. "I just...sorry."

"You okay?" he asked with evident concern.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," she assured him, trying to inject some cheer into her voice. "I'm just lying here avoiding my French homework."

"Ahhh," he said knowingly. "Well, I won't keep you from your procrastination. I just wanted to check on your work schedule this week."

She squirmed into a more comfortable position on the bed. "Every day except Wednesday, I think. Plus I've got a double shift Saturday to make up for being off all this weekend. Why?"

"Do you remember the gig I told you about? Well, it's on, so we really need to practice. Plus we'll need to go over the set list--"

Excitement pulled Maria into a sitting position. "Ooh, Alex, really? When is it? And where?"

"It's for this Christmas party, so we need to add in some seasonal music--"

Once again she interrupted. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I really have to wear my Crashdown uniform?"