Disclaimer: Roswell, and its characters do not belong to me. Melinda Metz, Jason Katims and 20th Century Fox have that particular pleasure. If I was lucky enough to own them, you just know the show would still be on the air, and you be watching that instead of reading this.

Rating: PG-13 to R for inappropriate language and some violence.

Chapter 10 – Summit Meeting

"Where are we, anyhow?" Liz asked, after Max parked the jeep.

"An old abandon quarry," said Max. "Haven't you ever come out here swimming?" He climbed out of the jeep and came around to the passenger side and opened the canvas door for Liz.

As the walked over to where Michael and Maria waited, Liz laughed, and the delicate sound tickled something in Max's mind. The fragments of a memory teased at the edges of his mind. He struggled to grasp it, but it flitted out of reach.

"Max, swimming here is against the law. I couldn't do that. My parents would kill me if I ever found out."

"That's right, we couldn't have little Miss Perfect doing anything illegal," said Michael joining the conversation.

His words triggered a reaction in Liz, and she saw herself standing with Max beside a car, holding a gun. The images in her mind shifted, and she saw herself in a store, pointing the gun at a cashier.

"Liz. Liz! Are you okay?" Maria yelled. She reached out and grabbed Liz by the shoulder and shook her hard. "What did you do to her?" she demanded, staring at Michael.

"I didn't do anything," said Michael. "I didn't touch her. Hey, come on, snap out of it," he said to Liz.

"I'm- I'm okay," Liz said, shaking her head a little to clear the images from her mind. "Maria, I'm okay," she said again, this time looking at Maria's hand, still on her arm.

"What happened to you?" demanded Maria, fumbling for a vial of lavender oil to sooth her nerves.

"Never mind, let's just forget it," said Liz.

"We can't just forget it, Liz. It could be something important," said Max. "Please tell us what happened.

"It was something Michael said," began Liz.

"See, I told you it was you're fault," said Maria, striking Michael gently in the midsection.

"Me, I didn't do anything," he said, vehemently.

"He didn't do anything, Maria," Liz said. "It was something he said. I had this incredible feeling of well, not déjà vu, but something similar to it."

"Well that really cleared it up," Michael said in his typical snarl. "Come on Maxwell, let's get this summit on the road. I've got things to do tonight."

"What did you just say?" asked Max, his face as white as Liz's had been a few minutes earlier.

"I said let's get this summit on the road," said Michael.

"I've been to a summit," said Max, quietly. "In New York."

"Max, what are you talking about?" demanded Michael. "You've never been to New York in your life."

"I know," said Max. "But I was there. I was. And so was Brody."

"Who the hell is Brody?" Michael shouted.

"I don't know," Max admitted.

"You've never been to New York, but you've been there, and you've been there with Brody, but you don't know who he is. Maxwell, something is whacked here, and I'm beginning to think it's you," said Michael.

"No, the same thing happened to me the other night," said Maria. "It was raining out, and I went to my window, and looked out. I was certain somebody would be outside."

"Outside, in the rain," said Michael, trying to sound gruff, but failing.

"Yeah, it was like I was expecting someone to be standing on the street, looking at my window. Not in a stalker sort of way," she was quick to add. "But like he needed my help or something, but was afraid to ask."

"Michael, you have to show her," said Max.

"Bullshit," said Michael. "I don't have to show her anything, and I'm not."

"Yeah you do," said Max. "It's the right thing to do."

"Wait, you know something," said Liz. "I have some questions I want answered before you show us anything." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper, opened it and glanced down at it. "How were you able to do what you did to Maria?" she asked.

Max and Michael looked at each other, but didn't respond.

"Max, look, that bullet hit Maria. I did some research, and Max, I'm sorry, it had to do some serious damage to her."

"Liz, I," Max began.

"I want some answers Max, and if I don't get them, I'm going to go to Sheriff Valenti and tell him everything."

"Tell him what?" asked Michael. "You don't know anything."

"I know Maria got shot, and by all intents and purposes, she should have died. Are you trying to tell me you just miraculously healed her?"

"Would you accept that as an answer?" Max asked, his voice hopeful.

"Not even close," said Maria.

"You have to promise me you won't ever tell anybody," said Max.

"Maxwell, don't!" said Michael, his voice angry. "We don't tell anyone. Ever!"

"They have a right to know," said Max. "They're a part of this now. Look," he said, turning to the two girls who waited expectantly. "Michael, Isabel and me, we're not from around here."

"Right, so you're from out of town, so what?" asked Maria. "Not everybody who lives here is born here. So where are you from?"

Max didn't answer, he only raised one hand and pointed a finger upward.

"North, you're from up north," said Liz.

Again, Max said nothing, he simply raised his hand higher.

"You're not like an alien, are you?" Liz asked, her voice rising a bit in disbelief.

"Well, I prefer the term not of this Earth," said Max with a sheepish smile.

"Max, you idiot!" said Michael. "You've ruined everything."

"What, like you're going to perform alien experiments on us now?" asked Maria. "I'm so afraid. Wait, what am I saying, I am afraid. Liz, these guys are freaks. I'm getting out of here, now."

"You don't even have one freaking clue in that tiny little brain of yours, do you?" asked Michael. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two pieces of paper. He unfolded them and handed one to Maria, and one to Liz."

"Nice," said Maria, barely giving the picture a glance. "I'm glad to see you stayed in the lines. Maybe next week you can move up to finger paints."

"Maria, I think you'd better look at these," said Liz, shoving the picture Michael had given her into Maria's hands.

"Oh my God," she said slowly, pausing between each word. "That's it, that's my dream, well, not a dream," she amended. "But it's what I thought I should see the other night. How did you do that?"

"I don't know," Michael admitted with atypical candor. "I just drew it, the same with that one."

Maria looked down at the other picture, the one that depicted Max, saving Liz, and not her, and alarm bells began to ring in her head.

"What the hell is going on here?" she said.