A/N: Well, waddaya know. I really didn't think I'd be continuing this story, but seeing all your sweet and encouraging reviews for the first four chapters prompted me to go off and write the next part. And I guess I'll be continuing the story, 'cause I rediscovered how much fun it is to write about these specific characters. So hopefully, part 6 will be up in no time (but don't take my word for it. I tend to get long, frustrating spells of writer's block).

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Part 5

***

"The same fence that shuts others out shuts you in."

- Bill Copeland -

***

When Isabel entered the house that night she was met by her mother, who was more than a little annoyed.

"Isabel!" Mrs Evans cried. "Where on earth have you been?"

I haven't been anywhere on earth, Isabel thought to herself, a silly smile playing on her lips. I've been in heaven. But this was not the explanation she gave her mother.

"I'm really, really sorry, mom. The meeting was a bit longer than I thought it would be."

"A bit longer?! You said you'd be home by nine! It's ten-fifteen!!"

"Mom, I said was sorry. I couldn't exactly just get up and leave in the middle of the main course."

"Well, you could've called. We were worried sick."

Isabel held up her cell-phone. "No batteries," she said. Then she – knowing exactly how to deal with situations like this one – gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and said "I'm sorry I had you worried, Mom. I didn't mean to."

Her mother's face softened. "It's okay, honey. Just try to let us know next time, okay?"

"Okay." Isabel feigned a yawn. "Wow, I'm really tired. I think I'll just go to bed."

"Alright honey, you do that," her mother said. Then she looked a bit puzzled. "You haven't heard anything from Max, have you?"

"No," Isabel said. "He's not home yet?"

Her mother shook her head. "He mentioned something this morning about meeting Michael tonight, to "go over some things", whatever that means."

"Then I'm sure that's where he is," Isabel said. "Or maybe he's taken Tess out to dinner. He wouldn't go off anywhere far away without telling you first." Her mother seemed reassured by her words, but Isabel herself wasn't. Max would've called, even if he was just at Michael's. But she didn't want to worry about that right now. He was probably just out brooding somewhere, as he seemed to enjoy doing nowadays. She had more important things to think about.

Entering her room, she flopped down on her bed and gave a happy sigh.

It had been a great night. Absolutely perfect. But not thanks to Darla Simmons and her lame dinner group. No, no. That wasn't the reason she'd been late. She'd found something better. Or rather someone.

As she closed her eyes she could see the image of Kyle Valenti smiling that million-dollar smile of his, tests of his brown hair brushing over his forehead in the evening breeze. They'd had a wonderful time together, absolutely wonderful. First he'd taken her to the restaurant where she was supposed to meet up with the girls, but when she was about to go in she realized that she suddenly didn't feel like having dinner with a bunch of giggling girls who were all about as shallow as a wading pool, and she'd told him as much. So he'd asked her if she would like to have dinner with him instead, and of course she'd said yes. They'd eaten at a small and non-expensive yet perfectly cozy Italian restaurant, and he'd held the chair out for her and paid for her dinner, like a true gentleman.

Afterwards they'd taken a walk in the park, and talked about all sorts of things. She'd found out he'd moved to Roswell to get to know his father better, whom he hadn't even met in four years, and that he would begin his studies at West Roswell High on Monday. She'd promised him a guided tour of the school and he'd thanked her, smiling that amazing smile of his and making her heart beat a little faster.

After dropping her off he'd insisted on walking her to the door, and on the doorstep she'd received a soft kiss on the lips and a promise he'd call her the next day. And she dearly hoped he would.

She sighed happily again. It was rarely that she, Isabel Evans, certified Ice Queen and notorious breaker of young men's' hearts, was truly interested in someone, but now she found that she was. She wanted to know everything about Kyle Valenti, his hopes and dreams and desires, and she couldn't wait for him to call her tomorrow so they could arrange another date.

Suddenly, in the midst of her romantic dreams, she found herself wondering about Max. It was rather strange that he was out this late, without letting anyone know. And she remembered the Jeep which, for all she knew, was still parked outside the school. Could something have happened to him?

And, if that was the case, what had happened and where was he now?

*****

When Max came back to consciousness, his first thought was that a long time must've passed, seeing as night had fallen and he was met by the sight of millions of stars twinkling down on him.

He worked himself up on his elbows and looked around. He was still on the ledge, but now the landscape was shrouded in darkness, resulting in the somewhat worrying fact that he didn't know how far from the edge he was. He sat up properly and squinted, trying to make something out in the pitch-black of the night, but it was impossible.

He suddenly realized that he was all alone and a tiny ball of panic formed in his stomach.

"Liz?" he said quietly. No answer.

He tried again, a little louder. "Liz?"

Still no answer. His panic increased and he scrambled to his feet, only to find himself rooted to the spot, not daring to take a single step in any direction, seeing as he wasn't sure where the edge was. His breathing was getting erratic and he pulled an unsteady hand through his hair.

A number of thoughts whirred through his mind. Could she really have left him? Was it some evil plan she, Maria and Alex had come up with – now that he knew their secret they had to get rid of him somehow, and what better way then to drive him off to some hidden place and leave him there to die? Could Liz really have done that to him?

Suddenly he felt incredibly scared. His heart was beating faster and faster, and he was getting dizzy from having to strain his eyes to see something in the darkness. Sitting down again, he pulled his hands through his hair and tried to get control of his breathing, desperate to clear his mind. If he had in fact been abandoned here, he had to work out some sort of strategy to survive. He had to come up with a way to get back to Roswell.

He was suddenly aware of how cold it was out here. He wrapped his jacket tighter around him and drew his knees up under his chin in an attempt to keep warm.

How could Liz have done this to him? And, more importantly, how could he have so utterly misjudged a person? He sighed dejectedly to himself and rested his forehead on his knees, closing his eyes.

"Max? Are you awake?"

Liz's voice was soft in the deathly quiet of the night, but still made Max jump.

"Liz!" he exclaimed and got to his feet.

She emerged from the darkness carrying something in her arms. "Max, are you okay? You look a bit worn."

Max breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, relief flooding over him. She hadn't left him here to die. She'd just… well, what was it she'd been off doing?

"Where were you?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too accusatory.

"I just went to the car to get this." She came closer and showed him what she was carrying. A quilt. "I thought you might be cold. I didn't know you were going to wake up while I was gone. I hope you didn't get, you know… worried or something."

"Oh, I didn't," he lied. Then he came to think of the earlier events of the day. "Liz, what exactly happened to me?"

"Happened to you?"

"Yeah. I blacked out and have been unconscious for hours. Why?"

Liz didn't answer him, she just looked down at the ground. Then she walked over to him and grabbed his hand. It was small and cold in his own, which, despite the cold, was relatively warm.

"Let's sit down," she said, and led him over to a fallen tree-trunk. He sat down and waited for her to do the same, but she didn't. Instead she remained standing, hugging the quilt to her and staring down at the ground. She looked almost pained.

"Liz?"

She didn't answer, just stood there, and suddenly her chin began to tremble. Max froze. He hated seeing people cry, absolutely hated it. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to make her feel better, but didn't have any clue as to how he could do so.

"Liz, what's the matter?" he asked.

Still not looking at him, she drew in a shaky breath. "I feel so stupid," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Stupid?" Max said, incredulous. "Why?"

She didn't answer. Instead she tilted her head and bit her bottom-lip. Max could see she was really crying now. Desperate to make her feel better, or find out what was wrong, or something, he grabbed hold of her left hand, which was clutching the quilt, and pulled her over to sit down next to him. She didn't make any objection. When she was seated, he released the quilt from her hold and pulled it around the both of them. He instantly felt warmer. He could feel Liz next to him, could feel her draw in shaky breaths and releasing them again. They were sitting close together, and their legs were touching, all the way from the hip to the knee, and it was all he could do not to put his arm around her and bury his nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her, which was evident to him even now. To keep himself from doing any of those things, he concentrated on holding the quilt closed around them, and decided on once again trying to get her to talk to him. But just as he opened his mouth, she spoke.

"I don't blame you if you don't ever want to see me again," she said and sniffled.

Max was truly surprised. This was not what he'd thought she would say. He looked down at her. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't I want to see you again?"

She sighed and tilted her head again, and for a second Max thought she would lean her head on his shoulder, but then she straightened up and seemed to regain some of her composure.

"I just wanted to let you know that I understand. If that's the case. If you, you know, don't want to have anything to do with me again."

"Liz, I still don't see why you think I'd suddenly want to break up our friendship."

She looked up at him then, and in her eyes was an "I'm not stupid"-look. There was something else in there too, something he couldn't put his finger on, but which made him want to pull her into his arms and tell her everything about how he felt.

"Max, don't try and tell me what happened earlier didn't bother you. Don't pretend it didn't affect you in any way."

"Well, Liz, I can't really do any of those things, seeing as I don't have the faintest idea what actually happened to me."

She looked away. "You're right. I'm sorry."

He waited for a continuation, but it didn't come. "So are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" she asked evasively, avoiding his eyes.

"You know what."

She sighed. "Look, there's not really all that much to tell. I tried something that worked a little too well and now I know I shouldn't even have considered trying it in the first place. It was stupid. Unnecessary. And now I'm… well, embarrassed."

"So what did you try?" he asked. But she clearly didn't intend on answering him, she just sat there, silent. Suddenly Max became very frustrated. Not giving any thought to what he was doing, only wishing to find out why he was here and what had happened, he reached one of his hands up and placed it on Liz's cheek, gently but firmly turning her head and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but she didn't say anything.

"Look, Liz," Max said. "I think I've been a fairly good sport about all this. I didn't say anything when you drove me off without an explanation. I didn't complain when you blindfolded me and led me through the woods. And I didn't give you a hard time when I woke up after having been unconscious for hours, only to find I was still out here in the woods, still not knowing where I was or when I would be going back. But frankly, my patience is starting to run out. I'm tired and cold and, to be honest, a teeny bit scared, and I think my mother might've had an hemorrhage by this point from worrying too much. So I think it's not too much to ask of you to tell me where we are, when we're going back or at the very least why we even came here in the first place!"

Max looked away after his long statement. He felt a bit stupid for getting all worked up like that. After all, he was known for being able to keep his cool in all situations. When he'd gathered himself a little, he looked back at Liz, only to find her staring back at him, a slightly amused look on her face.

"Well," she said, and a small smile formed on her lips. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"

Her words made Max laugh, partly because it wasn't often that Liz Parker was heard using sarcasm, but mostly because he was relieved she wasn't crying anymore. He suddenly found himself relaxing and without thinking he grabbed her hand under the quilt and squeezed it. She didn't say anything about it, just squeezed back before tipping her head back and observing the night sky. Max did the same, and it was first upon seeing the millions of tiny, bright dots sprinkled across the canopy of the heavens that he remembered how starry the nights could be out in the desert. He, Isabel and their mother and father used to go hiking sometimes when they were younger, and often Michael would come along as well. The three friends would lie in their sleeping bags under the open sky, staring up at the stars and trying to make out certain shapes and patterns. Every now and then they'd see a shooting star and Isabel would shriek that they had to make wishes, quick, and then Michael would tease her about wishing for something stupid, like a Valentine's Day card from Rick Tucker, causing Isabel to punch his shoulder and deny any wishes for cards from Rick, even though he admittedly was the cutest guy in the fifth grade. Max would lie silent during their arguments, completely awe-struck by the enormity of the sky and the multitude of stars, and wonder how big it all really was, and whether or not it ever ended. He wouldn't really come up with any answers, though, just more and more questions, and sometimes the questions would scare him and make him realize how small he actually was, but mostly he'd just be fascinated. A fascination which had followed him through his early teens and all the way to high school, where he'd become the lab partner of the equally science-captivated Liz Parker.

The afore-mentioned Liz Parker now interrupted his nostalgic thoughts. "Max," she said, and he turned to look at her again. She was still staring up at the sky.

"What?"

"Did you feel anything earlier? I mean, before you… before you blacked out."

Max thought back on the turmoil that had filled his mind the moments before he fainted. "Yes. I felt something."

Liz turned to look at him then. "What did you feel?" she asked. There was an earnest, almost hopeful look in her eyes that for some reason made Max's heart ache.

He took hold of her hands and held them in his own. Suddenly he didn't feel he needed an explanation to why he was here, or what had happened to him. He stared back into the depths of her brown eyes as he spoke.

"Liz, it's not important what I felt. What's important is how I feel now. And I want you to know that whatever happened to me earlier, it didn't in any way make me wish I didn't know you, and it didn't make me want to never see you again. If possible, it made me want to get to know you even more than I wanted to before." He paused and looked down at her hands, resting in his. "And Liz?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was barely a whisper. He looked up and met her eyes again.

"You can count on me."

She smiled at him, looking grateful and relieved and moved all at once. Max hesitated, before leaning in even closer, about to say something he didn't even want to share with the surrounding trees. Just with her. These words were for her.

"And you're not alone," he whispered, so close to her face he could feel her breath on his cheek. When he drew back and looked into her eyes, they were brimming with tears. But she didn't look sad. She just looked immensely thankful.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered, and put a hand over her eyes. "I'm just… you know…" Then her entire body shook as she was overcome by sobs. She released her other hand from Max's grasp and brought it up to her face, covering it completely as she cried.

But this time Max didn't feel awkward or embarrassed or desperate to get her to stop crying. Instead he wrapped an arm around her and, placing a hand on her head, pulled her to him. And she buried her head in his chest and cried and cried 'til she didn't seem to have any tears left. Then Max grabbed her hand again.

"Come on," he said and smiled down at her. "I think it's about time we get back."

She nodded and smiled back up at him, and hand-in-hand they started making their way back through the woods to the car.