Author's Note: Thank you so very much for your patience, and I sincerely apologize for the long wait. I won't bore you with the details, but I have had some issues with my shoulder and wrist that have largely kept me on Doctor's orders to stay away from computers. Things are still unresolved, but my pain at least seems to be improving. Yay! With any luck, I'll be able to return to a more regular posting schedule. But if it is awhile coming, now you'll know why. Anyway, I'll let you get back to reading. To refresh your memory, in the previous chapter, all three aliens had dreams about their former lives. The chapter ended with Isabel waking up suddenly from hers and being asked if she had had a bad dream.

Chapter Five

"A good dream then?" Kyle tried to keep his tone light, but given their current situation, and the fact that he had just spent the longest night of his life trying and failing to sleep next to Isabel, it was difficult.

Isabel got out of the bed, walked over to the window, and wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head slowly. "I think it was a memory," she murmured, so quiet Kyle almost didn't hear her.

He drew his brows together, curious. "What was it about, then?" he asked, also getting out of the bed. He took a step towards her, but then stopped, unsure if he should walk over to stand next to her, or keep his distance. After Isabel's shut down of their near kiss the night before he was feeling confused and unsure about where their friendship stood.

Isabel closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Kivar."

He didn't respond, not knowing what to say. He wanted to ask her to elaborate but hesitated, afraid of the answer and far too aware of the fact that Kivar and Vilandra had been lovers.

Isabel turned towards him, though her eyes were unfocused. "I – Vilandra – had been going to these…rebel meetings. I don't know how long before Kivar's attack on Zan, but I think it was at least several months." Isabel paused, frowning slightly. "She wasn't betrothed to Rath yet."

Without realizing he was doing it, Kyle stepped closer to her. "How do you know that?"

Isabel looked at him – or more accurately, through him, as if trying to remember more details. "She...accidentally ran into Rath when she was sneaking out to go to the meeting." She started pacing, her shoulder brushing Kyle's as she walked past him. "She was wondering why he was acting weird around her."

"Maybe he loved her," Kyle blurted without thinking. He swallowed and tried to maintain a look of nonchalance. What was going on with him?

Isabel, seeming unaware of the awkwardness of his statement, nodded slowly as she paced. "Yes, he did, or at least Vilandra thought he did, but that didn't seem to be the problem."

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked.

Isabel stopped pacing and looked at him, chewing on her bottom lip while a wrinkle appeared in between her brows. "It just felt like...like she knew he loved her and he knew she knew, but they hadn't ever let it get awkward. They just never talked about it." Her frown deepened and she looked away, speaking almost to herself. "It was so realistic…"

He shrugged to maintain the appearance of casual calm, but couldn't help but be startled by Rath and Vilandra's nearly parallel situation with himself and Isabel. "Well," he replied, "if it's really a memory, then it was real at some point."

Isabel nodded slowly again and restarted her pacing. She was still wearing the jeans and soft blue cashmere sweater she had been wearing when they were taken, but had removed her boots and jacket. Isabel had always been a great dresser, but even Kyle, who neither knew nor cared to know anything about fashion, could tell that Paris had sharpened her look. As she paced, he admired her long legs, slender from years of walking through Paris. Her hair, no longer dark but her natural golden color, was now at least half-way down her back. It caught the light every time she turned, shimmering as she walked.

Realizing he was staring, Kyle looked away and cleared his throat. "What else happened?" he asked.

Isabel didn't speak for a moment, pacing and thinking. "It was a meeting," she said after several moments. "Like an underground sort of thing. She had to sneak out to go to it and Kivar was the speaker…He kept talking about…oppression." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose again. "I think…" Isabel stopped suddenly, as if just realizing something. "I think it was about racism."

Kyle blinked in surprise. "What?"

Isabel frowned in concentration. "There were – are – different colors. Red and Green."

"Sounds Christmas-y," Kyle said.

Isabel shot him a look and he held up a hand. "Right. Sorry. Not the time for jokes."

"It seemed to be pretty serious. Like…like…" Isabel grappled with the right word. "Like serious racism…almost like slavery." She frowned and spoke her next words softly. "And Zan didn't seem to care."

Kyle digested these words, trying to reconcile all he knew of Max with the picture Isabel was painting of Zan. The two didn't add up, but then neither did Isabel and Vilandra. "How do you know that?" he asked.

Isabel looked over at him, sadness in her eyes. "He wasn't doing anything to stop it."

Kyle didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Isabel looked haunted by this revelation, or possibly by the entire memory, again wrapping her arms around herself. He tried to think of some way to change the subject. When a thought struck him, he cocked his head to the side, trying to smile, though not quite succeeding. "Do you remember what you looked like?"

Isabel frowned. "No…I – she - didn't look at a mirror. But I remember what Rath looked like," she said, almost to herself, before adding, "and Kivar."

Kyle raised his eyebrows and, choosing to ignore the part about Kivar, replied, "Really? You remember when Michael looked like a little green man?"

Isabel rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth quirked up. "Hey. Don't forget that I'm an alien too."

Kyle smiled - a real smile this time - trying to keep the playful mood going. "Yeah, but I'm sure green was your color."

Isabel's grin widened. "Oh and green isn't Michael's color? Have you been paying attention to which colors look good on Max too?"

Kyle laughed. "No, no. But you know everything looks good on you so the leap isn't that hard to make."

Isabel blinked a couple times, her smile slowly fading into a look Kyle couldn't decipher. "What?"

Inwardly cursing at himself for losing the easy banter so quickly, Kyle laughed nervously. "Well, you know it's true." He cleared his throat and looked away, jamming his hands into his jeans pockets, uncomfortable as Isabel regarded him. He waited for her to say something, but the silence stretched on, seeming endless. He quickly glanced back up to her and saw that the light from the window was glinting off the hair spilling over her shoulders, creating a halo affect around her. She was so beautiful his chest tightened and he had to resist the urge to walk over and kiss her.

He wanted to tell her that sleeping next to her had been torture, that he's been in love with her for over ten years, and that he knows she doesn't feel the same way. Perhaps it was the fact that he couldn't actually see her face, or simply the fact that he had grown tired of pretending that he only wanted to be friends, or maybe he was just feeling reckless because of their uncertain immediate future, but he wanted her to know. He wanted to tell her.

"Look-"

"Kyle-"

They both stopped and Kyle gestured for Isabel to continue, already feeling his determination wane under her sad look. Isabel cleared her throat, looking away from him. "I just…wanted to say that…" She took a deep breath and looked at him. "I think you're great. You're my best friend – the only one I've ever had actually – and I just don't want to do anything that'll jeopardize that." She stopped, biting her lip and looking worried.

Kyle stared for a moment, a crushing disappointment rendering him temporarily speechless.

After a few moments, he shook himself back to reality, forcing himself to smile at her through the sudden dull ache in his chest. Although it hurt to hear he'd been friend-zoned – even if he had already known that's where he was – he also felt relief that she had finally said it. Now any niggling doubts that he might have had about whether she saw him as more than a friend could be put to rest. This was better…

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "You know, that's what I was going to say too." He laughed mirthlessly. "I mean, I know you don't see me that way – which is fine by the way. Actually, I think it's great that that's, you know, out there. I mean, I was going to say the same thing, of course, - because I totally feel the same way – so really you did me a huge favor." He stopped, realizing he was rambling like a teenage boy and looked away, clearing his throat again. "I think I'll sleep on the floor from now on though."

When she didn't respond, Kyle looked back at her and was startled at how sad Isabel looked. It was obvious she didn't buy his story. He felt himself flush in humiliation. Of all the things she might feel towards him, pity was by far the most degrading to his pride.

She took a step forward. "Kyle –"

He held up a hand. "You know, it'll be better if you just don't pity me." He tried to smile, but he was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace.

Isabel shook her head. "I don't pity you." She bit her lip. "It's just…it's better if we just stay friends." She lowered her voice. "I don't want to lose you."

He frowned, now feeling irritable. "What are you talking about? You're not going to lose me." She looked up, startled, and he wondered if she had thought he couldn't hear the last part. Another silence stretched between them. Isabel yet again wrapped her arms around herself, turning back to stare out the window. Kyle closed his eyes, trying to push away his humiliation and resulting irritation.

As the minutes ticked on in silence, the air became ever thicker with awkwardness. Kyle had had his share of awkward moments – hello teen years – but never had they felt more like a tangible thing, like he could just reach out grasp hold of it in the air. He looked at Isabel and noticed that she seemed to be almost wilting under it, her shoulders curving inward as she leaned forward to press her forehead against the glass. He mentally shook himself, finally succeeding at locking his emotions away in a far recess of his mind.

In an attempt to lighten the mood and distance them from the awkwardness, he tried smiling again, clearing his throat. "So what did Michael look like?"

Isabel turned around, surprised, and stared. After a few moments she adopted a falsely bright smile. "Well, he was green." She tapped her chin. "And not too bad looking actually."

Kyle raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? Do tell." Isabel smiled - a real smile this time. He really loved her smile.

Maria lay next to Michael, fuming. She had no idea how long it had been since his outburst, but she knew he hadn't gone back to sleep. He was tossing and turning and sighing loudly, but she resolutely kept her back to him and pretended to sleep.

After Michael had snapped at her her first response had been hurt and tears, but it hadn't taken long for anger to set in. Now she was so angry it was all she could do not to kick him. They had been together for eleven solid years, and nearly three years before that, and yet it would seem nothing had changed. She had thought, with the way they had built their life in Brazil, that maybe they had both grown up, that they'd finally managed to have a functioning adult relationship. Of course they still had their spats, but all couples did. The point was that they had been happy in Brazil. They had been through a lot and come out the other side relatively successful, owning their own business, living life. But in the past twenty-four hours her confidence in the longevity of their relationship had been severely shaken. The past few years she had convinced herself that she was the most important thing in Michael's life - he had stayed on earth for her and she had left everything for him - but the moment she even mentioned the idea of marriage, he closed off and acted all weird. Well…not weird. Like Michael. Like the sixteen year old boy that she had fallen in love with. Except she wasn't sixteen anymore, and neither was he. Maria swallowed hard, tears pricking behind her eyes again, making her even angrier at him for putting her through this. She had never – not once in the entire eleven years since they had left Roswell - regretted her decision to give everything up for him, until now. She rapidly blinked her eyes and breathed slowly to avoid hiccupping and alerting Michael that she wasn't asleep. The worst part was where was she going to go? Even if they were on earth, she couldn't go back home to Roswell. The feds knew she had traveled with the group, so the only thing she'd get if she went back was an endless life in an FBI holding cell. And even if she did leave Michael, and go find a place on her own, she'd still have to see him every day at the restaurant – not to mention that they would have to stay in contact in case they needed to suddenly move again. Maria sighed quietly. And here on Antar? She couldn't even open a door or use the bathroom without Michael's - or some Antarian's - help. It's not like she could just request a separate room.

Consumed by the utter helplessness of her situation and no longer able to stand lying next to him, Maria threw the covers off and stood up. Keeping her back to Michael, she walked over to the window and stood with her arms crossed, her nails biting into her skin. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling restless. She didn't feel like stoically standing and staring out a window. She felt like throwing something.

She heard Michael stir, get out of bed, and walk towards her.

"Look, Maria –"

She whirled around, her anger boiling over at the sound of his voice, and pointed a finger in his face. "Don't! Don't you dare try to apologize!"

Michael stopped mid-step, looking taken aback. "What?"

She made a noise of disgust, looking at the ceiling. "You know what? I have listened to you apologize for eleven years. I am sick of your apologies." She advanced on him, but rather than retreat, he held his ground and looked down at her. This only incensed her further. "I gave up everything for you! We built a life together! But I guess I fooled myself into thinking you had grown up." She thought she saw something pass through his eyes, but it was gone almost immediately, replaced with the blasé look he got when he refused to let her in. It had been years since she had seen that look, and it hurt to see it now. "What is so horrible about marrying me? Do you even love me?" Her voice cracked on the word love and she cringed inwardly.

"Don't be stupid," Michael returned, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

She laughed sarcastically, throwing her hands in the air. "Oh I'm the one being stupid?"

"Yes," he said, "you are."

"And yet," she retorted, "you haven't answered my question. What's so horrible about marrying me?"

Maria could see Michael's muscles working as he clenched his jaw, refusing to answer the question.

She smiled sarcastically, refusing to let him see how much he was hurting her. "I see. How enlightening."

Now done with trying to talk to him, she walked over to the door and stood with her arms crossed. Without looking at him she said, "Let me out."

"Maria-"

"Let. Me. Out," she said through clenched teeth.

Michael sighed, rolling his eyes and walking over to her. "Why is this so important to you? Why do we have to get married? Why can't things just stay the way they are?"

Maria closed her eyes. How did she make him understand that it wasn't the marriage itself that mattered, but the fact that he was so opposed? Originally it had been an almost casual thing to mention, just to see how he'd react, but then he had been so against it, it had made her wonder. And that's not to mention what happened last night. Did he regret letting her come with them? Was he only with her as an obligation? Would he leave her if he had a choice?

"Because," she said, still through clenched teeth, "it just is."

"I see. How enlightening," he responded dryly.

Maria's eye's snapped open, glaring at him in response. She turned around and slapped her hand on the white square that would let her out of the room. When nothing happened, she felt a white hot burst of anger, and barely stopped herself from kicking the walls…or Michael. And then, just as quickly as it appeared, it drained out of her, leaving behind a hollowness. She leaned her head against the wall, eyes closed, arms hugging herself, resisting the urge to cry. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

After several seconds, Maria heard the door slide open. She pulled her head up and looked at it. Then, without looking back, she walked out quickly, hearing it shut behind her with a satisfying thud.

Max walked down the granite-like hallway towards the dining room they had left the night before with Liz beside him, in search of Arrin and food. He hadn't eaten much the previous evening but was starving now.

He glanced towards Liz, guilt bubbling up as he recalled his dream, how he had responded to it, and most importantly, that he hadn't told her about it. He wondered how she would react to the news that he was remembering his past. He wanted to tell her, to talk about what he had seen, but he wasn't sure how she'd react. On the one hand, he was sure she'd be curious to know what he had been like before. There had been nights when the group had first split up, when they would lie there and they would talk about what few memories he had, would wonder what sort of person he had been. But on the other hand, his and Tess's relationship was a subject they strictly avoided talking about. Though it had been many years since Tess had died, he didn't think Liz had ever completely gotten over his sleeping with her.

When they reached the dining room, Max found Arrin, Julayna, and Maria already there. Maria was sitting on the opposite end of the table from the other two, with her head in her hand, looking down at her plate, and poking at something which looked vaguely like an extremely spongy pink pancake with a two pronged utensil. He turned to Liz, but she was looking at Maria concerned. When she looked back at him, raising her eyebrows, he said, "Go ahead," his mouth quirking up. Liz smiled, squeezed his hand, and immediately walked over to join Maria.

Seeing that he had arrived, both Arrin and Julayna stood up and walked over. When they reached him, Arrin spread his feet shoulder width apart and clasped his hands in front of him in rigid formality. Julayna stood next to him in a similar position, though looking much more relaxed.

"I trust you found your rejuvenation satisfactory?" Arrin inquired.

Max nodded. "Yes…thanks."

Julayna gestured towards another spread of food, equally as colorful and alien as the previous evening. "If you are in need of nourishment, please help yourself."

Max nodded and walked over to the table, Arrin and Julayna trailing behind him. As he started picking up pieces of food, Arrin spoke. "Now that you have had time to recover from your journey here, I believe it is time for you to greet your subjects."

In his surprise, Max dropped the gray rectangle he had been transferring to his plate. It clattered onto the table, hitting several serving utensils. "My subjects?"

Julayna cleared her throat, glancing at Arrin. "Perhaps this topic would be better discussed after you have eaten." She grabbed Arrin's arm. "Come Arrin, let us wait for Zan back at the table."

Max watched them walk back to the table, the phrase "your subjects" playing over and over in his mind. He turned back around and swallowed, picking up the unappetizing gray square he had dropped, his raging hunger now turned to nausea. He grabbed one of the pink spongy pancakes and then turned to go sit down. He glanced first towards Liz, but it looked like she and Maria were having a fairly intense conversation, so instead he walked over to sit down next to Arrin and Julayna.

As Max sat down, Arrin folded his hands and placed them on the table. Julayna kept her hands in her lap but sat extremely straight. As he surveyed his plate, trying to decide what to eat first, Max idly wondered if everyone was always so formal or if the pair of them were acting this way because they viewed him as their monarch. He grabbed one of the utensils, the two pronged one that Maria had been using earlier, and speared one of the grey squares. He wanted to sniff it first, but felt self conscious with Arrin and Julayna watching him eat. Instead he simply took a bite and chewed slowly. It wasn't bad actually. The flavor was unlike anything he'd had on earth, but it seemed to be both sweet and salty, and sort of the texture of toasted bread.

Feeling uncomfortable with the silence, Max swallowed, cleared his throat and searched for something to talk about.

"So, uh…how come all the doors and stuff can only be accessed with Antarian DNA?"

"Kivar has aligned himself with several of Antar's former enemies," Arrin said. "Several years ago we found that the resistance had been infiltrated by a mole from one such planet. In order to ensure that the same thing did not happen again, we developed the technology."

Max frowned taking another bite while he digested the information. "But how could they infiltrate? Do they look like you?"

Julayna spoke up. "They have developed a sort of device which, when worn around the neck, can trick the eye. Though his appearance was not similar to ours, when he wore the device we were all fooled. But you cannot change your DNA, hence the technology we now employ."

Max nodded, impressed. "Makes sense." He looked over at Liz and Maria. "The problem is that my wife and human friends can't even use the…uh…purification space without one of us." He looked back at Julayna and Arrin. "That's going to be a problem."

Julayna glanced at Arrin and replied, "I'm…sure the technology could be modified to include human DNA." Arrin's jaw tightened; clearly he was not happy with this prospect.

Max cocked his head slightly. "You don't seem to think much of humans." Arrin didn't respond. "Why?"

Julayna's quickly jumped in, looking worried. "Please do not think we are prejudice. We have all been through many things. Trust is not-"

Max interrupted her, keeping his eyes on Arrin, who's expression had remained blank, though a muscle was working in his jaw. "Thank you, but I'm asking Arrin. Why don't you trust humans?" Max gestured to himself. "Last I checked I was at least half human."

Arrin blinked once and responded with a flat voice. "You are Antarian. Your human half was only needed so that you could blend in with the species of Earth."

"You didn't answer my question," Max said.

"I have no ill will towards the human species," Arrin said.

"Then why don't you want to make changes to the system?"

Arrin was silent a moment, seeming to consider whether or not to answer. Julayna rested a hand on top of his clasped ones and again spoke to Max. "We have endured much over the past thirty revolutions." She glanced quickly at Arrin and then back to Max. "We have been betrayed before and are only being cautious. The only human we have encountered before now was Ava – the one you called Tess."

"I'm just as human as Tess was." Max glanced at Liz and then spoke in quieter tones. "Our baby was entirely human and you completely rejected him."

Julayna shook her head, though Max kept an eye on Arrin, who held Max's eye while maintaining his blasé exterior. "No. It was not us. It was Kivar and his inner circle. Only the privileged upper classes even saw the child. We had nothing to do with the rejection of your offspring."

Max shook his head. "But why trust me? It doesn't make any sense."

Arrin spoke up. "You are our rightful king."

"Tess was your rightful queen," he countered.

"She aligned herself with Kivar," Arrin said, his voice rising. "She was a traitor."

"And what makes you so sure that I'm not a traitor too?" Max retorted, beginning to grow angry. "Ava wasn't a traitor before, but Tess was. What makes you think I'm not going to betray you too?"

Before Arrin could reply, Michael walked into room. Max and Arrin watched, temporarily sidetracked, as he immediately went to the food table and began piling food on a plate. Max frowned in confusion as Michael seemed to ignore Maria, who merely glared in his direction and came to sit next to Max, immediately shoveling food into his mouth. Max saw Maria get up and stalk out. Liz shrugged her shoulders at Max and then followed Maria out.

"Hello, Rath," Julayna said, clearing attempting to break the awkward tension in the room.

"My name isn't Rath. It's Michael," he replied through a mouthful of food. "Where's Isabel?" He looked at Max, who shrugged.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her."

Michael picked up a red cube and popped it into his mouth whole. "Well, shouldn't she and Kyle be up by now? They left before we did."

Max looked at Arrin and Julayna. Julayna's entrie body tensed. "Have you seen her?" Max asked.

Arrin responded with, "She and her human companion are taking their nourishment in their room."

"Their room?" Max asked. He had no idea that Kyle and Isabel was an item, though he supposed it had been some years since he had contacted either of them. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Weird," said Michael.

"Are we going to stop by to pick them up before we go meet my…subjects?" Max asked.

Arrin shook his head. "Both Vilandra and her companion are not feeling healthy. They will remain in their quarters."

Max frowned, sensing that Arrin wasn't being entirely truthful with him. He looked at Julayna, but for once she refused to look back, her hands hidden underneath the table. He glanced at Michael, who looked equally suspicious. "Ok…then take us to them."

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that," Arrin responded.

"Why not?" Michael demanded. "And her 'companion' is named Kyle, by the way."

"They are being kept under quarantine," Arrin said. "If they are indeed unhealthy, then we do not want to spread the contagion among the rest of the population. We are not inoculated against the contagions of earth. To catch one could be a costly and deadly mistake."

"Fine," said Max. "Then take us to her. If she's sick then I want to make sure she's ok."

"I simply cannot allow it," Arrin replied.

"Look," started Michael. "It doesn't matter if Isabel and Kyle are sick, ok? Even if we catch it, it won't be deadly to us. You can just quarantine us."

Max narrowed his eyes, his gut continuing to tell him that Arrin was lying. "I'm going to see Isabel."

Arrin gave Max an almost condescending look. "It is not advisable-"

Max cut him off. "Do you or do you not, call me your king?"

Arrin gave Max a measured looked. After a beat he simply nodded his head. "Indeed."

"Then I command you to take me and Michael to Isabel." Max looked between Arrin and Julayna. "And tell me what's really going on here."

"As I said before – " Arrin started.

"Don't give me that." Max looked over at Michael who nodded at him. They both knew something was up. "Why are Isabel and Kyle being quarantined?"

Julayna looked at Arrin and when it became apparent that Arrin was not going to answer, Julayna spoke softly to him. "It does no good to start off with deceit Arrin."

Arrin looked at Julayna for a few moments before nodding slightly and turning to look at Max. He placed his folded hands on top of the table again. "Vilandra is being kept to her quarters until such time as she can be tried for her crimes."

"What the hell?" Michael burst out. "What do you mean tried for her crimes? Isabel hasn't done anything wrong. And she is not Vilandra!" He turned to Max. "Can you believe this?"

Max sat back, mimicking Arrin by placing his hands folded on top of the table. He set his jaw and then spoke very slowly, trying to reign in his anger. "You will release her."

Arrin pressed his lips together, obviously also trying to reign in his anger. It was apparent to Max that Arrin was not used to taking orders.

"Without Vilandra's betrayal, Kivar would not have had opportunity to tear this world apart," Arrin said slowly. "For the sake of this planet, she must be made to answer for what she did, for whom she betrayed."

Michael slapped his hands on the table. "This is bull-"

"Michael." Max didn't speak loudly, but Michael still shut up. Max kept his eyes fixed on Arrin. "Listen closely. Isabel is not Vilandra. She has never betrayed me and she will never betray me. We didn't even know who we were until we were 16. We were raised by good parents and we love each other. And we may not remember much of our lives on Antar, but we do remember this: Vilandra did not know that Kivar planned to assassinate Zan. If you have any hope of getting me to cooperate, then you will take us to her immediatly and let her out. And if you can't handle having her walk free, then by all means return us all to earth."

Max waited for Arrin to respond, but it was Julayna who spoke first. "You would turn your back on your people?"

Max looked at her. "Isabel is my people." He gestured towards Michael. "Michael is my people. Liz, Maria, Kyle. They are my people. They are the ones whom I have spent the last thirteen years trying to keep safe. Believe me, I want to kill Kivar just as much as you do, but not at the cost of turning my back on the only people I've cared about for the past ten years. Isabel is my sister and her freedom is my condition for agreeing to give up the life I've built on Earth to be your king."

He looked back at Arrin. "Take it or leave it."

A/N: Thanks for reading!