Part 16

Salisbury, England - June 10, 2002

It was raining when Michael stepped out the front door of the hotel where he, Isabel and the Sheriff had holed up for the past three days. But then this was nothing new. It had been raining since they had arrived in England. It was the one thing he couldn't get used to: the constant humidity. He was used to the dry, scalding heat of a New Mexican summer. He kept getting soaked in the flash storms that hit the British isle without any warning. He refused to carry an umbrella like Izzy was getting in the habit of doing though, preferring to hunch into the collar of his jacket with whatever happened to be in his hands over his head...newspaper, book, lunch...it was all good.

The one thing neither he nor Isabel had let the rain do was force them to spend time with each other. In fact, they did everything in their power to avoid it. The Sheriff had obviously noticed too, but he wasn't saying anything. The three of them just seemed to go their separate ways, all twiddling their thumbs waiting for the group back in Roswell to uncover something, anything, that would allow them to rescue their friends.

As the days passed and nothing turned up in the massive alien archive deep under the desert floor back in Roswell, the less hope that Michael had that they were ever going to find anything.

And yet...Max had always said that there HAD to be a way. Tarsus had gotten to Earth without the portal., so had Danala. The method had to exist.

But as the days passed, the more convinced Michael became that he was never going to see Tess or Max or Liz or Kyle again, that their friends, his SISTER, were lost to them forever. His home planet would remain enslaved in civil war. Jennetta would never have her chance to play the role she was meant to - savior and queen.

Michael ducked out of the rain, into a book store near the Cathedral. The tall spire was becoming extremely familiar. He spent a lot of time in the close surrounding it, mostly brooding.

There were two reasons that he was in such a perpetual bad mood.

The first was pretty clear cut. Isabel was driving him crazy.

The dreams would not stop. They were coming every night, each one shared between the two of them, forcing them to remember a relationship that neither of them particularly wanted to recall.

Michael still hadn't figured out if he was actually dreaming about his past life or whether for some strange reason it was Isabel, consciously or subconsciously, forcing him to participate. All he knew was that he was reliving his past life every single night. These were not normal dreams...he was flesh and blood and breathing in them. He WAS Tristandor of Dernia again.

He was exhausted. He felt like he had not had a decent night of shut eye since Liz's supposed death. He rubbed a hand wearily against the back of his neck, picked up a copy of one of the many classics all English bookstores seemed to sell for practically nothing. He had already managed to wade his way through two of Dickens's books, mainly out of sheer stubbornness to not confront what was happening to he and his almost sister.

They were turning back into the princess and her consort that they had been.

Michael avoided Isabel for one reason and one reason alone. He knew that she was half in love with him already. He didn't blame her. The emotions that flooded him throughout the night, the love he felt for her in his dreams...it was hard not to allow it to stay alive during his waking hours.

And yet he fought it. He fought it because he knew that it was all an illusion, that he did not love Isabel in the way he loved Maria. He remembered Max once telling them, right after Tess had first come to Roswell, that he wasn't going to let a book dictate what he was going to do. Michael now understood the way Max had felt back then.

He was not going to lose Maria over this. He was NOT Tristandor anymore. He was Michael - and Michael loved Maria. Michael shared a daughter with Maria. Michael wanted to BE with Maria.

Mirana and Tristandor were dead. And if Michael had anything to say about it, they were going to stay that way.

Isabel's dark eyes following him every time they were together told him that she was not so sure that she felt the same. Michael knew that she was trying to fight it too, but she was losing the battle.

He just knew that somehow, some way, they were all going to end up very, very hurt. Michael, Isabel, Maria, Alex...even Jennetta and the others... were going to end up hurt if this was allowed to continue for much longer.

He plopped into a chair in the small cafe in the back of the bookstore, began flipping through Wilkie Collins's The Woman in White. He barely scanned the pages, felt his mind refusing to allow him to escape so easily.

The other reason that he was in a bad mood was beginning to press on his conscience again, like a weight that wouldn't budge. He had been refusing to allow the thought to form completely, but as he stared down at the words on the page, words that made absolutely no sense...it came unbidden.

He didn't want Alex and Maria to find a way to open the portal.

Michael flopped back in the chair, scrubbed his face wearily.

A waitress came over, smiling flirtatiously. She was about his age, and her short blonde hair made him think of Maria's when they had first gotten together.

He snorted to himself, remembering how bad things had seemed in those days. Their anonymity had disappeared, he was forced to accept people he didn't want to accept...he had felt like he was drowning, but then, slowly, but surely it had all worked out. He had begun to trust them, had let himself fall in love with Maria...

He had found his family.

And now he was willing to give it all up to selfishly keep Jennetta in his life.

He was willing to give up his friends to keep his daughter safe.

"Can I get you something?" The waitress asked, her English accent causing Michael to blink. He didn't know why it surprised him every time someone spoke to him. It was the small-town boy in him likely.

"Coffee." Michael muttered. "Black. And one of those scone things." The waitress looked disappointed that he didn't seem inclined to flirt back, but shrugged and hurried off behind the counter.

Michael turned back to his book, forced himself to concentrate on the story.

But it was useless. The guilt remained.

You're a terrible person. Not even Jennetta wants to avoid her destiny. How can you be so selfish? You've always been this way...Your SISTER needs you.

Michael swallowed hard, scowled at the prickling feeling that suddenly started behind his eyes. Was he going to cry? What the hell was the matter with him? He didn't have anything to feel guilty about after all. He had them all fooled. They all thought that he had accepted this, had accepted that he was going to lose his daughter, that she was already lost...

"Michael."

Michael didn't even realize that he had buried his head in his hands, elbows on the small table, until Isabel's voice snapped him out of it. He blinked quickly, stared up at her, set his jaw.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped. He stood up abruptly. "I have to go call Maria."

Isabel grabbed him by the hand as he tried to pass her. "It's five in the morning back there Michael."

"So?"

"Michael, we need to talk about this."

"No." He left her standing there, forgot completely about the coffee he had ordered, stormed out onto the street.

The rain had stopped. At least the rain had stopped.

But apparently Isabel was not going to be this time. "MICHAEL! Talk to me!"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Michael, you had another one too last night, didn't you?" Isabel demanded. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, refused to look at her. "About the Ring? About our wedding...or joining...or whatever it's called there?"

"So what?" Michael replied belligerently. He knew he was being a jerk, could almost feel his harsh words hitting Isabel like a physical blow.

"Michael, please! I'm not doing this on purpose! I swear." He could hear the tears in her voice. For the first time he really looked at her. She looked terrible. Her beautiful brown eyes had dark circles under them. She hadn't even made an effort to hide them, which was not Isabel's style at all. Isabel would ignore nuclear fall-out if it meant she had to go out without fixing her makeup.

He sighed heavily. "I know Izzy." He turned away again, squinted up at the spire which towered above them, pointing to the heavens, soaring towards their real home.

"This has to be happening for a reason Michael." Isabel spoke again when it became clear he had no intention of doing so.

"I know." He repeated. He looked at her again. "But I don't think I want to find out what that reason is Isabel."

"Me neither." Izzy replied. She started to walk, clearly expected him to follow her. He did, keeping a safe distance between them. "But I don't think we have any choice Michael."

"Isabel." She looked sideways at him, past her long blonde hair, which was hanging lifelessly over her shoulders. "What about Alex and Maria?"

He could see tears glittering on the ends of her lashes. "I don't know. I know that I love Alex, that he's the best thing that's ever happened to me. He grounds me Michael." She paused. "But I just don't know." She finished quietly.

They both stared at each other for a long charged moment. "So what do we do about this?" Michael finally asked.

"I think we need to..." She swallowed hard. "We need to explore what this means."

Michael raised an eyebrow at her. "Explore? What the hell does that mean?"

Isabel sighed again. "We have to confront it - see it to the end." She started walking. "And I think I have an idea about how we can do it."

Michael watched her walk away, her tall figure seeming to straighten with determination. He clenched his fists at his side, closed his eyes briefly.

Isabel turned and glanced over he shoulder. "Michael? Are you coming?"

"I'm coming."