Chapter One

By June Goddess

The next night, Isabel sat in front of her vanity, brushing her hair. She loved to brush her hair to help her sort her thoughts. Tonight, it was imperative that she sort her thoughts. Especially those concerning her brother and his ex-girlfriend.

That day at school, Isabel had paid close attention to Liz. She had seemed withdrawn, and moody. Well, moody, when she was not completely apathetic. Liz hardly seemed to know what was going on anymore. Her hand rarely shot up in class, and she had tried to open, rather unsuccessfully, the locker she had had the previous year. Isabel had almost taken pity on her when Maria had showed up and made light of Liz's mistake. The slightly air-headed blonde had linked arms with her best friend and flounced down the hallway and around the corner. The quickly-masked concern in her eyes, however, told Isabel that Maria was very aware of Liz's strange behavior. That she was so worried and watchful, led Isabel to the conclusion that Maria might not know the reason behind her best friend's new attitude.

Isabel shook her head. She wanted to focus. She met her eyes in the mirror and sighed. She wondered if the spat Liz and Max had had in school today would affect whatever Liz dreamed tonight. Deciding to just find out, she hopped up from the seat and slipped under the covers of her bed. She grabbed the new addition to her nightstand, last year's yearbook, and went right to Liz Parker's photograph. Once again, Isabel slipped into another's dream.

"I want to date boys. I want to see my twenty-first birthday." She rolled her eyes. "I want to have a wedding day."

She continued talking, but Isabel was no longer listening. So this is what was going on in his room that night, she thought. She had seen Liz cross the lawn to Max's window a week ago, but she had not known of the conversation. Something changed in Liz's eyes. Some shadow passed over her, it seemed. Isabel started listening again.

"You know," Liz started hesitantly, "I may love you… but I don't want to die for you." Max's tearful gaze was the last image before everything swirled to gray.

Shocked, Isabel pulled away from the dream sequence. She awoke in her own bed, confusion in her head. She looked to the clock on the nightstand. Three forty-six. She groaned. Giving up, she sat up, turned on the lamp, and grabbed the journal in which she had been logging her "Liz" dreams. She had labeled it "The Liz Journal." She had never felt the inclination towards writing in one herself, since she had many secrets and only a fool would leave a paper trail, but this was a special case. Word problems and logic puzzles made sense to her when she had the black-and-white clues in front of her. This really was no different.

She spent the next half-hour writing every word spoken, describing every facial expression and gesture. She closed the cover and pondered over the contents. When she next looked at the clock on the nightstand, the time read four fifty-three. With a sigh, Isabel decided to get up and go for a run. Anything to clear her head for the start of a new day.

Breakfast was a tense affair. Her run had been great. The shower after had been sheer heaven. But seeing Max's face while knowing everything he and Liz were going through, and knowing it a little better than he did, was difficult. She and Max had made a habit of not keeping secrets from each other, but she was deliberately keeping the nightly excursions in Liz's dreams from him. She felt almost as though she were betraying him. Which sparked off another bout of discomfort as she remembered Congresswoman Whitaker's words about the princess she had once been. A princess who, according the Skins, had betrayed her family to the enemy and got everyone killed in their last life. Not pleasant morning thoughts.

While in third period, Isabel thought about the last dream. That had had a different feel to it. Like it might be a memory, not necessarily a dream. The first dream had been a dream, but the end had also changed to fit the memory feel. The questions and suppositions chased round and round inside her head, and she never noticed how tired she was. She also did not notice when her eyes blinked shut and did not blink open.

She did notice, however, that she was no longer in her classroom and was in a dark and unfamiliar room instead. She looked around and saw Liz at the window with the Max look-alike peeking through the closed blinds. They were talking, but she could not hear them. They stole glances at each other. Their eyes drank in the other in those brief moments.

Isabel was struck again with the intensity of their relationship. Max had always watched Liz from afar, but since entering her radar after the shooting in the Crashdown, Liz had watched Max as much as Max watched her. Their looks catalogued every breath, every gesture. It was all-consuming, but neither seemed bothered by it. It was natural to them.

There was a sudden commotion, and Liz pushed the older-appearing Max to the back of the room. He hid behind a wall, just as Max, the one she knew, abruptly opened the door. He looked at Liz. It was the same look the other Max had directed at her. His voice, low and hard, was difficult to hear.

She watched as Liz's face crumpled. She watched as Max swooped on the smaller teenager and kissed her. Isabel looked away. There were some things she did not want to share with her brother, and his make-out sessions with Liz Parker was definitely one of those things.

"No, Max! I can't go out with you ever again," Liz cried. Isabel's eyes locked on the speaker. She looked distressed, scared.

"Liz," Max started, pleadingly. He also looked scared.

The brunette's jaw firmed. "No. You have to stop doing this."

He looked at her, his eyes dark, yet bared. Naked truth painted his face. "I can't." His voice, so hopeless, made Isabel want to weep. She watched as Liz let him walk out. Watched as yet another piece of the strange Max and Liz puzzle came to light.

"Miss Evans, I trust my class didn't bore you to sleep?"

Isabel's eyes snapped open. She looked around the empty classroom. "Uh, I am so sorry, sir. I haven't been sleeping well lately." She ducked her head and flashed the teacher a sheepish smile, and watched with satisfaction as he took the bait.

A smile tugged at the man's mouth. "Well, it's a first-time offense." In a mock stern voice he continued, "Just don't let me catch you at it again!"

Isabel laughed appreciatively. "I promise." She gathered her books, flashed her "supermodel" smile, and walked out the room.

In the hallway, she bumped into Max. "Hey, little brother. What class are you headed to?"

He looked at her strangely. "Trig." He swung his eyes forward and kept walking. When Isabel did not leave, he sighed. "What's up, Izzie? I thought you weren't talking to me."

She blinked. Right. Breakfast. "Well, I'm talking to you now, aren't I?" she retorted smartly, an eyebrow quirked, a smirk playing on her lips.

He snorted, the ghost of an answering smirk on his own lips. "Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes and sped up. He gave a half-wave to her as he walked into his classroom. She stood there for a moment and watched as a somber Liz Parker shuffled to the same doorway. The brunette hesitated and bit her lip nervously before going into the classroom.

Isabel's eyes narrowed at the mystery before her. Why had Liz broken up with Max? Who was the older Max in the memory-dreams? And why had Max really let Liz break things off with him?