Category: Action, Adventure and Romance. Also sexual situations down the road. Summary: This is set after Season 3. Loose ends need to be tied up and the Roswell gangs begin their next level of intimacy. (No Mary Jane's here. There are some previous characters that needed taken care of. Disclaimer: Jason Katims owns everything Roswell. I am just taking liberties with its characters. Feedback: It keeps me motivated and lets me know what you think! Please leave feedback! Distribution: I would be flattered if anyone wants to post this story somewhere else, just let me know first okay?

"Earth to Liz, Earth to Liz!"

Liz unknowingly smiled at the little joke as the scene before her gradually came back into focus. A small park could be seen from the window where she was gazing out. Carefully spaced trees dotted the manicured lawn that surrounded the park's focal point, a trio of Conquistadors riding off into battle. The medium used for this creation was bronzed metal accented with what was apparently suppose to be recycled trash.

It was undoubtedly the ugliest statue she had ever seen, but something made you have to stare at it, like a car wreak that you might pass by on the road.

After a few minutes of staring at it, Liz would find her mind wandering to important matters.

Matters like her new husband, Max.

Matters like...sex.

At least once or twice a day she had to be shaken out of her reverie by her blessedly tolerant, if slightly amused, best friend, Maria.

Maria's guy, Michael, had left her in a similar dazed state on more than one occasion. The intensity of their lovemaking could still make her weak in the knees when she thought about it. And, Max and Liz seemed to have it even worse.

On the night of Max's and Liz's wedding the group agreed to take a portion of the money they were given to escape with and get a hotel room so the couple could have a 'Honeymoon'. There was some half-hearted protest from the newlyweds, but nobody truly had to twist their arms.

The rest of the group slept in the van, which had been the initial plan until they found a safe place to settle down for awhile. From their vantage point, they could see the window of the room the lucky couple had been given.

Even though the curtains were closed, a faint green glow could be seen through the slit were they did not quite meet. They all wondered if the couple even realized the energy they were generating.

"Hey Chica, is anybody home?"

A guilty smile played with Liz's lips. "Sorry Maria, I sorta stepped out for a bit."

"That's ok girlfriend, did you go anyplace interesting?" Maria asked with a oh-so innocent tone.

The blush that ran up Liz's neck and covered her face pretty much told the story.

"Oh god, Maria!" Liz exclaimed, while she half collapsed with equal parts of exasperation and utter amazement. "Am I always going to be like this? Either wanting to jump his bones the second I see him. Or, when I'm not around him, either thinking about what I want to do with him when I see him or what we did together the last time I saw him!"

She moved away from the window and began to pace the floor, slowly building to an agitated state.

"I feel like I'm one big walking hormone. I mean, we've had to leave our parents, we're on the run from the FBI, we have aliens on our ass, we're suppose to somehow live a semi-normal life and blend in...and the only thing I can think of is how bad I want to get laid by my husband. My brain has shut down and there is only one part of my anatomy that I am thinking with."

Liz stopped in mid-stride and turned with horror-struck eyes to Maria.

"Maria! I'm turning into a guy!"

Maria smiled indulgently, "No Pumpkin, no. I can promise you that's not happening." Her face held a mock concern while stroking and soothing Liz's soft dark hair.

"How do you know?" asked Liz, semi-serious.

"Because," Maria deadpanned, "I would have to leave Michael and fight Max for you." They stared at each other for a moment, then both collapsed into a fit of giggles. They rolled around on the floor of the new apartment that they shared with their mates.

When they had first moved into their new apartment, it had closely resembled Michael's apartment that he had lived in when they were in Roswell. The entire place was only about 1200sq ft. and was decorated in various shades of bachelor brown. The carpet and cabinets were both on the lower end of builder grade material. It was probably the absolute cheapest brand that the developer of the complex was able to find.

The color of the two bedrooms, one bath apartment was disputed among the group. Maria said it was eggshell white. Liz believed it was more of an off white, while Max and Michael insisted that it was white!

Isabel and Kyle, who lived in the apartment right across from them, had very little to say about the color.

Their apartment was identical to Max, Liz, Michael and Maria's apartment. Since it was two bedrooms also, they each had their own room. They were the unofficial platonic couple in the group.

Isabel had not allowed her husband, Jessie, to come with them when they fled from Roswell. She told herself that she loved him too much and he had too much to lose if he followed her.

However, some nights as she lay awake at night, and forced herself to be brutally honest, she had to admit it was because he didn't belong with them. It didn't mean she didn't grieve for him. She did. But not like she had grieved for Alex. The one she had slowly fallen in love with. The one who had been viciously ripped away from her, and left her with a hole in her heart so large she felt like trains could roll through it.

When Jessie came along it helped ease the pain somewhat. And he was a good man. But, sometimes the old song came unbidden to her mind. 'If you can't be with the one you love, love the one your with.'

Guilt, remorse, grief, and having to leave her parents, her friends, her community, it was overwhelming. She was supposed to be so strong. She was the Ice Princess. The one that no one or no thing could truly touch.

She was hanging by a thread.

If it hadn't been for Kyle, she didn't know how she would have gotten this far.

He was the only one that she would let see her cry. She was would not burden Max anymore than what he was already having to go through. And Michael, well, as much as she knew he loved her, hysterical females were simply not his forte.

Maria and Liz were her friends, but it was still hard for her to let down her defenses and ask for help.

Kyle never gave her a choice.

After they had gotten settled into their apartment, Isabel spent the first night trying to quietly cry herself to sleep.

The door to her room opened and with a startled jerk, she sat up in her bed.

Kyle stood in her doorway; He had on lightweight pajamas on that hung on his toned waist with a drawstring. His bare chest loomed large in the soft moonlight. He wasn't as tall as Max or Michael, but years of football and weight training made him seem as if he were larger than either of them.

Isabel was wearing the top to his pajamas. In her haste to pack, she realized she hadn't brought anything to sleep in. Kyle had offered her his top, and she accepted it with a nod of thanks.

He strode across the room and sat down on the bed next to her.

She tried to speak, tried to tell him to leave, but he gathered her in his arms and held her firmly against him.

All of the fight went out of her. More than she even realized, she needed this. She felt his smooth skin beneath her cheek. She felt the comfortable beating of his heart against the side of her face. His arms held her gently but firmly to him. He had a clean scent, having just gotten out of the shower, but even underneath that, she could smell him. A comforting, familiar scent, and more, places that she wouldn't allow herself to go yet, a masculine scent that drew her to tighten her arms around him.

She felt warm, safe and protected. In her safe cocoon, she was no longer able to hold back the racking sobs that shook her body.

Kyle never said a word other than the soft, nonsensical murmurings he whispered while he lightly rocked her as she cried. He knew there was nothing that he could say to take away the pain, to make everything all right: just as nobody could have said anything to him when his mother left him. You just had to work your way through it.

But at times, being held was what you needed. Whether you admitted it or not, as Kyle knew from experience after his mother had left him and the times his father had held him through the night.

Several times after that night, he had gone to her room and held her when she needed him.

'Careful Kyle', he sternly warned himself, 'She just needs a friend.' Though it was getting harder and harder to leave her and go across the short distance to his own empty bed.