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Rebellion

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Everyone was already seated at the booth by the time Maria walked into the Crashdown. She paused inside the door to run her fingers through her hair, dislodging a shower of raindrops that fell on the already slick floor. The storm had showed no sign of letting up since it had roused her from her slumber. Lightning continued to streak across the darkened skies, followed by a reverberating crash of thunder.

"The Kachinas are here," she said, approaching the table.

"Hmm?" Liz looked up at her friend, confusion obvious on her face.

"The Kachinas, you know. The Pueblo Indians thought their ancestors came back in the form of Kachinas, they were supposed to travel in rain storms." Maria scanned the booth of blank faces, at last giving up. "Forget it, it's obvious that I was the only one paying attention to the lesson that day." She shoved Michael's shoulder, silently ordering him to make room for her on the bench.

"Alright, Alex, Maria's here now. What did you find out?" Michael asked. His hands were resting on the table but he could feel Maria's leg pressed against his in the cramped booth, sending sparks of fire along his nerves.

"Like I said before, not much. Her name's Renata Birdsong. She's from some little back woods town in the Appalachians, she lives in Atlanta now where she's lead singer for The Tempest, a band that plays everything from jazz to old eighties covers. She doesn't appear to have any family other than Sayer and Jordan and they're not really her family either." Noting the curious expressions around him, he explained, "Sayer plays guitar, Jordan's on the keyboard. She hardly goes anywhere without one or them or the other. The little solo trip Maria and Liz witnessed yesterday is a rarity."

Alex shook his head. "Chuck thinks she grew up in foster care but he's not sure. He said she made a comment the other day about the governmental practice of shipping kids off to wherever regardless of their welfare. Sounds like foster care to me." He shot a nervous glance at Michael before continuing. "Otherwise she's volatile and prefers to keep to herself. Every time he's asked her a pointed question about her past, she blew it off or just answered him with another question."

"He's not even sure how old she is, maybe late twenties or early thirties."

"Does he know why they decided to come to Roswell?" Max leaned forward in the booth, Liz's hand tucked between both of his.

"Not at all. They showed up all of a sudden last Tuesday and asked if there was an opening to perform. Chuck said that the band that was slated to play had cancelled and Renata's voice blew the owners away. They're working on a way to get them to stay another week or two."

"Did he say when they're supposed to pull out of town?" Maria asked, suddenly concerned that Renata might leave before they had a chance to find out anything.

Alex shrugged. "They've got another show set for Wednesday night. After that no one knows. Like I said, the owners of the club are trying to convince them to stay longer but who knows what'll happen."

"That's it?! We've got to find out what she knows," Michael demanded, beating his fist against the table.

"Michael, calm down. It's not Alex's fault that she's a private person." Isabel had remained quiet for the duration of the discussion, letting Alex explain what he had discovered. "We can't do anything until Tess and Kyle get back anyway. This could affect them too."

"Where are Tess and Kyle?" Alex knew perfectly well where they were but he was game for any chance to change topics to something less argumentative.

"Oh," Liz replied, "they went on a Valenti family camping trip. They should get back by Monday."

"Since when is Tess a member of the Valenti family?" Michael grimaced at the thought of having the Valentis any closer than was absolutely necessary. It was bad enough that they knew about their origins, worse that Max had saved Kyle's life when he had gotten shot, but for Tess to become a card carrying member of their family was edging on the unbearable.

Maria thought for a minute. "I'd say pretty much since Kyle gave her his bedroom. Lighten up, space boy, it's not quite the mass disaster that you seem to think it is."

So much for the less argumentative topic idea, Alex thought. Michael looked like he'd be more than happy to blow up Maria's car again, not to mention a few others just for the hell of it.

"Great, that's just great. While Tess is getting all cozy with the sheriff we're losing a chance to find out more about our pasts." He shoved Maria out of the booth, nearly sending her sprawling to the ground with the force of his thrust, and stalked to the kitchen.

"Michael!" Maria caught her balance and stared after him.

"I'm on the clock. The grill is calling," he muttered as he disappeared through the kitchen door.

"I'll go," Max offered, motioning for Liz to let him out of the booth.

"No," Maria sighed, "I will." Although she sometimes wondered what their relationship actually was, she knew she needed to be the one to follow, not Max.

He wasn't in the kitchen but she hadn't expected him to be. She knew he wasn't scheduled to work until the next morning.

She could hear the rain pounding in the alley on the other side of the back door, she didn't want to go back out there, she was already drenched to the skin and shivering. But that was the only other place Michael could have gone and she had told Max she would go after him.

She pushed to door ajar and peered into the dark alley, trying to see past the blinding rain. Michael was walking toward the road, oblivious to the chilling downpour.

"Michael!" This was so typical, so… Michael. Sure, play along with the group, pretend to agree with their decision, and then turn around and do exactly what he wanted to do. "Michael, wait!"

He stopped but didn't turn around, waiting for her to catch up with him. As he stood still, the rain plastered his shirt to his skin; sending chills down his spine and at last making him acknowledge the cold shower.

Maria clutched her vial of Cyprus oil and jogged up to him, she was going to need the aromatherapy aid, she knew she would. Michael could unbalance her more readily than any alien epiphany could ever hope to. Grabbing his arm, she turned him so that they faced one another.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded between ragged breaths. "You can't do this! What is the use of making a group decision if you won't follow it?" She glared at him, anger masking the fear she felt creeping into her thoughts. For all they knew, Renata could be another enemy every bit as dangerous as the Skins and even if Michael accepted the danger… well, she couldn't, she wouldn't. She felt tears prick her eyes at all the possibilities of what could happen.

"Maria, they could be gone by next week. If we wait for Tess and Kyle to come back, it could be too late. She knows something!" he spat out, "And I need to find out what it is."

"Why can't you ever listen to reason?" She pulled again on his arm only to find herself grasping at air as Michael turned back around and continued to walk away. "Damn it, Michael! Why can't you accept that whatever affects you affects me too? You know it does, I've told you it does!" Damn, she hated crying over him, over his blatant disregard for the consequences of his actions, over his disregard for her. "What is it? Did Max and Isabel get all the reasonable genetic material or something? Were you just engineered to be rash and brainless?!"

He left her sobbing in the rain and he hated himself for it. He had tried so many times to push her away so that he wouldn't continue to hurt her. Why couldn't she just cooperate for once and stay away? Stay happy and whole. The question was ridiculous; she couldn't stay away for the same reasons that he felt himself drawn back to her time and again. For all of Max's insistence that he and Liz were soul mates, he knew that the bond that connected him to Maria was just as strong, if not stronger.

That's why, when he turned the corner and was out of Maria's sight, he slammed his fist into the first inanimate object he found. After he'd spoken to Renata he would go to Maria, get her to understand why he needed to do this, that he would never intentionally endanger her or cause her harm. But first he had to try to find out more about this mysterious stranger and the tattoo that marked her shoulder blade.

~~~

Renata stretched languorously and fell back onto the less than comfortable hotel mattress. She had, upon rising, barked orders at Sayer to find some kind of sustenance, anything edible that didn't have some saccharine alien themed name attached to it. A single glance had sent Jordan following Sayer on his quest. At last in self-appointed seclusion, she had quickly dressed and then fell to the bed, closing her eyes against the intermittent glare of lightning that flashed through the opened drapery, and let herself drift on the sounds of the rainstorm that surrounded her.

She almost missed the tell-tale sound of the door, the click of the tumblers as they unlatched and the hissing squeal of the unoiled hinges as the it swung open.

This was getting to be really annoying. Why was it that she could never seem to be alone anymore? She turned her head toward the door, the remnants of her mussed dark curls partially obscuring her face, and observed the intruder in the flashing lightning.

He had been at the club. Dimly, she recalled seeing him standing off to one side amidst a group of kids. Alex, the boy who had shown up to listen to their rehearsals all week, had been in that group as well. What in the hell was wrong with these kids? Didn't they have better things to do with their free time? Couldn't they just leave people alone? Watching as he neared the bed, she decided they didn't and couldn't.

"Get out!"

The snarled words startled Michael into temporary immobility. Quickly recovering, he stood his ground. "Who are you?"

Renata sighed softly and pushed herself into a sitting position, drawing one arm up to drag her hair behind her shoulders. "Let me get this straight, you break into my hotel room and demand to know who I am? You've got a lot of nerve, kid." Shrugging out of Jordan's jacket again, after reclaiming it in the chilled room earlier that morning, she stood to study him. "What in the hell do you want?"

"I want to know who you are," he stated simply.

She raised her eyebrows at the soft response. "I'm Renata Birdsong. And who might you be, besides the person I'm about to call the cops on?"

"Michael."

"Well, Michael, now that you know who I am don't let me stop you from leaving." She raised her hand, indicating the open door behind him. She was too tired for this. All she wanted to do was get something to eat, crawl back into bed, and go to sleep to the sound of falling rain. She didn't want to fight with some strange hoodlum teenager.

He didn't leave. She hadn't really expected him to though so it wasn't much of a surprise. "Let me guess, you have another question," she hissed.

"You have the orb symbol on your shoulder." Didn't Maria always say that being honest and straightforward was the best alternative? Somehow he thought she was only speaking of their own twisted relationship and not of his quest or in speaking to strangers who could very likely turn out to be the enemy.

Renata's face paled noticeably and she sprung into movement. "Get out!" She took Michael by surprise and forced him outside into the pouring rain before he could react. Her hands twisted in the material of his shirt, she hissed, "I don't know who you are or what you want but if you're smart you'll forget you ever saw that symbol or the orb. And don't come back!" She was gone, almost instantly. Michael was left standing alone in the cold rain, staring at the closed door of her hotel room, and with more questions flooding his mind than before and the betraying feel of another alien presence against his chest where she had grabbed his shirt.

He couldn't let it drop, no matter the consequences. He silently prayed for Maria to forgive him and approached the door again.

"Don't do it, kid." She could feel his presence as she leaned heavily against the door. Fear had no place in her life; she made others afraid, not the other way around.

She was suddenly struck by a desire to immediately return to Atlanta and forget about the cursed photograph and her own foolish demand that they follow up on it. Hadn't Sayer told her it was a trap? Hadn't Jordan pleaded with her to burn the blasted thing and forget about it? Why was it that she couldn't just accept it as that and let the whole thing drop? Because she was Renata, that was why, and no matter how diligently she tried to put her own physiological make-up behind her, she just couldn't do it.

"You owe me an explanation!"

She spun and wrenched the door open. "I don't owe you anything." Her voice was losing its biting edge rapidly. "I don't know who or what you are but I do know that I know you nothing!" Her shout reverberated off the walls of the room.

Michael reached out and snagged her arm, turning her to look at the tattoo that was emblazoned on her back. "I think you do."