Title: This Brilliant Dance

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So, another reminder, the only two of the group that know that Drake is dead are Max and Tess. They haven't gotten around to telling anyone else yet. So the two of them, Valenti, and the FBI are the only ones who know. Italics are dreams.


Chapter Fifty: Independence Day

The first thing Tess thought when she looked around the inside of Hank's head was that it was a mess. He was dreaming, of course, she knew that. He had to be dreaming, or else Isabel's gifts wouldn't have worked. But his dreams weren't coherent, they didn't follow any set path. Images swam in and out of focuses, colors and swirls of light flashed abruptly into strange shapes, and nothing followed any set timeline. The air was filled with a strange buzzing, throbbing and vibrating. The cacophonous sound echoed around them, alternating between high-pitched screeches and muffled humming.

"This is…" Isabel shook her head slowly. "This isn't normal. Hank's mind is… hurt." As she said the words, she suddenly realized their significance and murmured in a apprehensive voice, "Michael really did a number on him."

Max thought about that for a moment, but didn't focus on it. They had a job to do, and they couldn't get distracted by this damage. "Tess," he said, glancing over at her, "take Isabel's hand." He reached out for his sister and linked hands with her as well, then continued, "Alright, if we focus on channeling out powers we should be able to fix this."

Tess raised an eyebrow at him and nodded. They were taking a risk on this one, and Tess wasn't really sure how they were supposed to do it. If she combined her mind control powers with Max's healing powers, they might be able to fix some of the damage, but…

"I know we've never done anything like this," Max whispered, noting the expression on Tess' face, "but we don't have a choice. We need to focus, alright? Michael's counting on us."

Tess shrugged and she clasped hands with Isabel. With her other hand, she reached out towards Max, forming a ring. The three of them stood, hands linked, eyes closed, and focused on their gifts. Slowly and with painstaking care, they called their respective gifts to the surface, forcing the rush of sudden power that flooded their veins to obey their commands.

They had to do this correctly. For everyone's sake, they had to fix this.


Michael stared at the paperwork that Mr. Evans had left with him. The lawyer had returned to his office to do some preliminary research about emancipation before scheduling a meeting with the judge. It was still the weekend, and the court wouldn't be open for petition until Monday, so that gave Michael time to prepare his case and get his story straight and in agreement with whatever memory Tess left in Hank's head.

Michael sighed and pushed the papers away. He had promised Mr. Evans that he would remain at the hospital until he was discharged, and fortunately the nurses had not felt the need to run anymore blood tests so he appeared to be out of danger. But he still felt antsy, trapped in this white-washed room.

Deciding a quick walk in the hallway couldn't hurt, Michael lifted himself carefully from them bed and detached the pulse oximeter from his finger. He then walked over to the door and pushed it open, stepping out into the hallway.

Two nurses were standing to his left, talking in hushed whispers. They hadn't noticed him, and Michael was about to step past them when something in their conversation caught his attention. He paused, listening intently as they spoke.

"…and she actually showed up here?" the first nurse asked incredulously.

"In hysterics!" the second nurse replied with indecent laughter in her voice. "Apparently she couldn't believe he would just leave her, and she was convinced there was some other explanation. Talked to the receptionist and some of the doctors, but no one's seen Drake since last night. And since his suitcases and belonging had all been removed from the house…"

"I can't believe he would just walk out on her. And his children. He's got two daughters, doesn't he?"

"I think so," the second nurse agreed, shaking her head and clucking her tongue disapprovingly. "I don't know the whole story, I only heard what she said to one of the doctors, and obviously I didn't want her to think I was eavesdropping so I couldn't stand there forever, but…"

"I always thought he was so responsible. This will be a major blow to the hospital if he's really left town," the first nurse sighed.

"Not to mention quite the scandal for his wife," the other woman replied sympathetically. "I mean, really… Roswell hardly ever has gossip and this will last for at least a few weeks. Poor woman…"

"And the children. Imagine having to deal with all this, and at such a young age."

Michael frowned, turned, and slipped back into his room. He walked back over to the bed and sat down on it, thinking.

So Dr. Drake had just left? That seemed unlikely, especially if he had just disappeared at the same time that Michael had coincidently shown up at the hospital.

And Michael had stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago.


"Liz? What are you…?" Alex spun around in his desk chair and stared around his room in confusion. Liz was standing in the doorway to his room, her arms crossed over her chest, her long hair falling over dark eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Liz replied, taking a few steps into the room. "I… your father let me in." She glanced at the computer screen behind him, and realized that he was working on their English homework. "Is this a bad time?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, it's fine," Alex assured her. He saved the document he had been working on and closed it, then turned back to face her again. "What's going on?"

"It's about Max," Liz said slowly. "I just… I needed to talk to you." Her voice was shaking with pent up emotion and confusion, and Alex instantly gestured for her to take a seat on the bed.

"You need to talk to me about Max?" he asked, slightly surprised, as Liz pulled her knees into her chest and stared blankly at the wall next to Alex's head.

"Yeah, about me and Max," Liz clarified. "About our relationship."

"Um… isn't that more something that you talked to Maria about?" Alex ventured.

At the mention of Maria's name, Liz's face darkened. "I can't," she said firmly. "I can't bother her with this. She has… she has other things to worry about."

Alex accepted this for a moment, then gave Liz a scrutinizing stare. He leaned back in his seat, regarding her in total silence. Then he asked, "Liz, what do you know about Maria that I don't?"

Liz flushed and looked away. "I can't tell you, Alex. I'm sorry, I just…"

"Is she okay?" Alex demanded, worry flooding through him.

Liz contemplated the question for a moment, wondering how to best answer it. She knew that Maria wouldn't want anyone else to know what was going on, at least not yet. And Liz didn't want to break that trust. So she couldn't give Alex the full truth, or even part of the truth.

"Liz?" Alex prompted.

"She's… emotionally, she's dealing with a lot," Liz said at last. "But I can't… Alex, I can't tell you anymore than that. And if Maria doesn't want to talk to you about it, you can't push her on this. It's just… it's a lot. Okay?"

Again, Alex was silent, studying the determined expression on Liz's face. Finally he nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "So… what's going on with you and Max?"

Liz sighed. "He didn't tell me about Michael," Liz explained. "He didn't… he didn't say anything at all, and I found out from Maria. I don't know if he was even planning on telling me."

Alex frowned. He had naturally assumed that Liz would have been one of the first people that Max had called after hey had successfully switched blood samples. It came as a surprise to him that Liz wouldn't be informed until much later, but he supposed that Max had a lot of his mind.

"Liz, Michael's in a lot of trouble. They all are. Max is just… he's just preoccupied with other things," Alex replied, picking his words carefully.

"I know," Liz replied, rushing to interrupt Alex's defense of her boyfriend. "I know, and I'm not saying he should have dropped everything and run over to my house to tell me. Obviously taking care of the situation with Michael and Hank was more important. I just…" Again, she hesitated, wondering how to best explain what was worrying her. "I went over to see him, to make sure everything was alright and he… he didn't even want to see me. He didn't… Alex, it was like we weren't dating anymore. It was like we weren't even friends, and he didn't…" She shook her head. "It was almost like he didn't even care." She gave a slight laugh and continued, "I know I'm sounding like a petulant toddler."

"No, you're not," Alex contradicted her. He ran a hand through his hair absently, then said, "At the dance, you two were so wrapped up in each other, and now he barely remembers that you two are dating. You don't understand why everything changed so quickly, and you're worried that it will always be like this. Everything will be going great and then something alien will happen, and you'll be forgotten again."

Liz nodded, licking her dry lips. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I feel like part of this worry is stupid because he healed me. I mean, he brought me back to life. Obviously he cares. But… when Michael went to Marathon with Maria, he ordered me to stay behind. Like I didn't matter to him anymore because one his alien family members was in danger."

"Max loves you," Alex pointed out. "He healed you, he told you his secret, he kept you informed of most of the things going on in the group… the orb from Atherton's house, the button Michael found in Hannigan's car, the history about the Hardings and silver handprints…" He shrugged. "He might not be completely human, Liz, but he's not God either. He's got so much to deal with. Every now and then he's going to screw something up. You're the one thing in his life that if he screws up, he still has a chance to fix it. To apologize and try to make amends. Everything else, if he screws up, he is going to end up in FBI custody being dissected or tortured or killed. And if it's not him, then it's Isabel, Michael, or Tess. He's under a lot of pressure, and maybe he's screwing up with you because he can and the world won't end."

Liz raised an eyebrow. "When did you become an expert on the psychoanalysis of Max?"

Alex just laughed. "Ms. Topolski told me I should be a psychologist. You remember those meetings we had with her when she fist came?"

"Yeah,' Liz replied with a frown. "I wonder how much of that was her trying to get information about Max and the others."

"Seems like we have enemies coming in from all sides," Alex agreed. He gave Liz a smile and said, "Look, it sucks to be the person that Max gets to screw up with. And you do need to talk to him about this. But he is dealing with more than either of us can really understand, and maybe… maybe you should cut him some slack."

Liz considered his advice, then said, "I'll go talk to him. Maybe… if he sees that what he is doing in wrong… then I'll be okay with it. I'll forgive him, I'll cut him some slack. I just… I just need to make sure he understands why this is upsetting me. I need to make sure that…"

"You just need to know where you two stand?" Alex supplied.

Liz nodded. "Yes. I just need to know where we stand."


They were standing on the cliffs. Miles below them, the sand stretched out, shimmering golden in the sunset. She was beautiful, her long blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders in a cascade of gentle waves. She was wearing a long navy blue dress that clung to her body in all the right places. The hem skimmed the ground as she turned and caught sight of him where he stood, watching her from the shadows of a nearby rocky outcropping

She took a step towards him and he reached out a hand towards her, unable to control his own movements. She smiled, joy filling her tawny eyes, and lifted the cloth of her dress, hurrying towards him in excitement. A moment later he caught her in a tight embrace.

She laughed suddenly, the noise breaking the silence that had settled around them, and he leaned in towards her. For a moment, his lips grazed hers…

Michael woke with a start and stared around the room. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He hadn't even remembered drifting to sleep, but he clearly had. He rubbed his weary eyes and glanced down at the legal papers that had fallen from the hospital bed and littered the tile floor.

The dream had been so real, so vivid, and yet, at the same time, so indescribably wrong.

How could he possibly be having dreams about Isabel? She was… well, for lack of a better way of explaining it, she was Isabel. And he was Michael. And his dreams were just… wrong.

And yet so incredibly… good.


The buzzing faded away and the images restored themselves to a normal dream. Max had fallen to his knees, his skin tinged with gray. He was tired, exhausted, and the strength needed to fix Hank's brain was quickly draining away his energy.

Isabel was still standing, her fingers wrapped tightly around both Max and Tess' hands. Her hair clung to her face with sweat and she strained to keep the dream-walk going, to focus Max's powers through her and into Hank's mind. Her entire body was shaking with uncontrollable tremors, but around her the chaos of Hank's mind began to fade into order.

Tess had her eyes scrunched tightly closed. Her hands were clammy, her breathing slightly labored. She was sifting through the dreams in Hank's mind, searching for memories of Michael that she could use to direct her gifts. It was difficult, every time she thought she found the right memory, it slipped away from her, dissolving into a sea of thoughts, emotions, and frozen moments captured in memory.

But the combination of their three gifts was working, they could tell that.

Hank was standing in the front door of his trailer, staring through a drunken haze at Ms. Topolski. The guidance counselor appeared to be attempting to ascertain Michael's whereabouts.

"Do you know where he might be?" she asked.

"Sure…" Hank paused for a moment, thinking, then said, "He's been hanging with them Evans kids forever. And I seen that blonde girl around when they were littler."

Ms. Topolski smiled. "You mean Tess Harding?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah, them Sheriff's daughter," Hank agreed. "Oh… and I seen him once with that brunette from the diner… Parker girl, you know?"

"Elizabeth Parker." Ms. Topolski supplied with a nod. "Tell me, Mr Guerin, is there anything unusual about your foster son?"

"Lazy, that's what he is," Hank stated. "Sometimes he does funny things, though. All secretive and stuff. And always running around with them Evans. " He paused, then growled, "Lazy brat."

Tess shook her head, that wasn't a helpful memory. It showed that Ms. Topolski was asking questions, but they already knew that much. No, she needed something else, some memory where Hank was directly interacting with Michael.

Hank Guerin opened the door to his trailer and stared in confusion at the man in front of him. He took in the dark suit and the briefcase, and said at last, "Not interested in buyin' nuthin'."

"I'm not selling," the man replied briskly. "My name is Mr. Collins and I am from Child Protection Services. I am here about Michael, Mr. Guerin."

"Good for nuthin' boy gettin' himself in trouble, is he?" Hank asked, shaking his head in disgust.

A brief look of contempt washed over Mr. Collins' features before he said, "No, Mr. Guerin, it is not Michael who is in trouble this time." He extended a manila folder to the other man and explained, "We believe that it may be in his best interests to be removed to a different foster home?"

"He been complaining?" Hank demanded, instantly enraged. "I put a house over 'is head and clothes on 'is back and he been complaining 'bout me?"

"Actually, no, he hasn't," Mr. Collins replied. "Although perhaps he should have. No, we have decided to remove him on our own accord. There will be a trial…"

"Trial? I ain't broken no laws," Hank defended himself quickly. "Ain't done nuthin' wrong."

"In the case of possible neglect or abuse of a foster child, it is necessary that the foster parent and child are brought to court before the proceedings can be fully dealt with. The judge will inquire into the situation and…"

"I ain't been abusive or neglectful!"

Again, Tess disregarded the memory. Their plan had been to tamper with Hank's emotions in an attempt to make him more compliant to the idea of Michael leaving. Once she put the right emotions in place she could change his memory of the argument from the night before, wiping out any indication of Michael's gifts. But to do that, she needed a memory, any memory, that had Michael is in as well.

Max's strength was giving out, and Isabel was now barely able to stand. If they didn't find something soon…

"I protected you, you unnatural freak!"

Michael froze.

"You think I didn't notice, boy?" Hank sneered, gloating triumphantly. "All them crazy things you can do? But when that guidance lady came, I didn't tell her nothin' at all! And she asked if you was different!"

"Don't…!"

"Don't what? Don't tell?" Hank sneered, his words slightly slurred as he leaned against the wall, and even in his inebriated state, he still towered over Michael. "What do you think would happen if I told them, huh? Maybe then they'll take you away. You and those two Evans brats you is always hangin' with!"

Michael stared at Hank, pure hatred flickering in his eyes, and he lifted both his hands. Raw power flowed from Michael's outstretched hands and smashed into Hank, lifting him from the ground and propelling him through the air. For a moment, Michael just stood there, staring in horror at what he had done, then he heard the sound of shouting outside, the wail of sirens, and he collapsed to his knees.

"Stop!" Tess ordered, sending both a verbal and a mental message to Max and Isabel. This was it, this was the memory. The scene froze in front of her and she shoved all her power and all her energy into changing it, slowly and surely, erasing any evidence of what Michael could do and altering Hank's memories.

Isabel was on her knees. Max had slumped over slightly. They couldn't keep this up much longer.

"Hold on…" Tess murmured as she channeled her gifts towards the task at hand. "Just hold on."


Mr. Evans leaned back in his seat and eyed Judge Hawthorne. He was an honest man, a hard worker, and a fair judge. He was also the judge who would be at the courthouse tomorrow, and the one who would decide Michael's fate.

"Mr. Evans, this report from Sheriff Valenti," Hawthorne gestured to a stack of papers on his desk, "doesn't look good. Michael Guerin almost killed a man."

"We don't know that," Mr. Evans replied. "We don't have any idea what happened."

"The eyewitness account states that Michael started the fight," Hawthorne argued.

Mr. Evans was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his chose his words carefully. "Mrs. Cunningham's account also states that Michael was drunk. Yet his blood tests don't show even the slightest amount of alcohol in his blood. Hank, on the other hand…" He didn't say anything, simply shrugged.

He didn't have to finish the sentence, they both knew that Hank had had dangerously high levels of alcohol in his blood when he was taken to the hospital.

Hawthorne nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think that Michael is capable of taking care of himself? He tried to flee the hospital this morning, that doesn't bode well for the future."

"But he came back," Mr. Evans replied. "Yes, he tried to flee, but he came back. He put a lot on the line to come here, and in all honestly, Your Honor, Michael has little reason to trust us. According to both my children and Michael himself, this is not the first time that Hank's hit him. And all the people who were supposed to look after him, Child Protection Services, his teachers, the Sheriff… we've all failed."

"Answer me honestly, Mr. Evans, is any of your desire to help Michael based on the fact that he is friends with your children?" Hawthorne asked, throwing Mr. Evans a piercing look.

Mr. Evans sighed. "I don't know," he replied. "Since Michael is close to my children, I've had more of a chance to get to know him than any other adult in this town. And I've interacted with Hank on a few occasions. Granted, I never thought Hank was actually physically abusive, but… but I knew he wasn't a good father."

"A lot of people aren't good fathers," Hawthorne pointed out. "But as long as they aren't bad fathers, we can't take their children from them."

"But Hank isn't even Michael's father," Mr. Evans protested.

"He's the only family Michael has," Hawthorne countered.

"Then maybe Michael is better off without family," Mr. Evans shrugged. "Hank is abusive, we can see that now. And whatever Michael did to him, yes it was uncalled for and yes it was crossing a line but this is a sixteen-year-old who has been trapped in an abusive home for ten years."

"That doesn't excuse almost killing a man," Hawthorne argued.

"And the fact that Michael almost killed a man doesn't excuse the fact that we let him slip through the cracks for a decade!" Mr. Evans shot back.

"I understand your point of view, Mr. Evans, but I can't help but think you are taking this more personally than a lawyer should," Hawthorne said with some concern.

"Michael, Isabel, and Max were all found wandering around in the desert. We found Max and Isabel, but Michael wasn't found until later. What if the situation had been reversed? What if we had found Michael and it had been Max and Isabel who had ended up with Hank?" Mr. Evans shivered as he thought about that. Logic told him that, had the situation been reversed, he wouldn't have felt the same fatherly protection for Max and Isabel that he did now because they wouldn't have been his children. But emotionally, the thought of them ending up with someone like Hank… "I can't not do anything to help Michael, because it could have been my children in that position. It could have been my children with an abusive father."

Hawthorne nodded. "We're going to need to talk to Hank when he wakes up."

"I think we should do this as soon as possible. Michael won't wait forever, and I don't want him to feel as though he needs to run again."

"But what happened to Hank…"

"Can be dealt with later, if it needs to be," Mr. Evans replied. "Look, if we can get Michael out of his situation, then, when Hank wakes up, we can deal with that legal issue. But right now, Michael should be our top priority."

Judge Hawthorne gave Mr. Evans a scrutinizing look. "Let me think it over," he said, waving his hand towards the door in dismissal. "I'll see you and Michael in the courtroom Monday morning and I'll let you know my decision then."


Tess felt as though her body was breaking into a thousand different pieces. Isabel's hand fell from her grasp as the other alien girl finally lost the last of her energy. The force that was keeping Tess grounded inside Hank's brain drifted away, and Tess found herself being shoved roughly out of the dream.

Tess opened her eyes and rolled over to her side, gasping for breath. Next to her, Isabel jerked awake, opening her eyes and sitting up. Max was the last to get up, and his face was still pale and covered with sweat.

"Tess?" Max asked questioningly.

Tess swallowed and nodded. "I got rid of all the memories relating to Michael and his gifts." She ran a hand through her hair, relief spreading through her body. "And you healed Hank's mind? Protected it from the side-effects of my gift?"

Max nodded. "I did," he replied.

"So… it's done?" Isabel asked. "We did it? We're okay?"

"Yeah," Max whispered, the feelings of panic and dread falling away from him as he realized what they had just accomplished. "Yes, we did it."


Monday morning dawned a brilliant sapphire blue. The cloudless sky shimmered in the heat, and the air was cooled with a slight breeze.

Michael and Mr. Evans stood side-by-side in Judge Hawthorne's inner chambers, watching and waiting as the judge considered his final choice. Max and Isabel had wanted to be there as well, but Mr. Evans had insisted they go to school. Michael would inform them of the final decision once it was given, but they didn't have to be there to hear it.

"And does the minor, Michael Guerin, pledge to take charge of his life as an adult from here forward?" Hawthorne asked.

"I do, your Honor," Michael replied with a firm nod. His stomach was still bandaged and the bruises on his skin hadn't yet faded, but he spoke with such assurance that Hawthorne couldn't help be be impressed. This was obviously a teenager who would be able to take care of himself.

"And do you understand that you will be solely responsible for your financial, education, and medical decisions as they may arise?" Hawthorne continued,

"I do, sir," Michael consented.

Hawthorne sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "Do you understand, Michael, that even if I grant you emancipation now it does not change the fact that when your foster father wakes there will be another legal matter to deal with?" he asked, dropping the formal tone and scrutinizing Michael.

Michael swallowed and nodded. The little boy inside of him who had spent too man nights wondering if there was something, anything, he could have done to make Hank care about him the way that Mr. and Mrs. Evans cared about Max and Isabel didn't want to deal with Hank anymore. He wanted to put that in the past and move on, but that wasn't possible.

"I do," Michael said at last. If it was the only way he would finally be free of his foster father, then he was willing to do that.

Hawthorne nodded. "Even if it turns out that you were not in any way at fault for the domestic disturbance this weekend, there will be an investigation into Hank Guerin's actions over the past years… and you will need to testify before me, or another judge, as to what he was like."

Michael bit his lower lip and thought about it for a moment. Then he said, "I'm willing to do whatever is necessary, your Honor. I just… I just want to be able to control my own life and make my own decisions. I want to… to be free of Hank."

"Well, might I add, young man, that you are fortunate in having these folks here today who have an interest in your future and have shown a confidence in you that is reflected in my decision. I hope you can live up to that faith."

"I'll try," Michael replied honestly. He slanted a look at Mr. Evans. "I know how lucky I am."

"Good. Then I hereby grant your petition for emancipation," Hawthorne finished.


Ms. Topolski looked around her apartment office in confusion. Everything was exactly as she had left it, the door was still locked, the lights turned off, files cabinets shut tightly, papers scattered across her desk. It didn't appear as though anything had been touched or disturbed in anyway.

But her file on Atherton was missing.


Next Chapter: Never Let Go

Due: Sun 11/12