**Authors Note: I am posting this to get an idea of whether people find this something they'd like to read. I have just begun this fic, and I'm not sure I'm going to stick with it. Your reviews; positive or negative will help me decide. If you read, please just send me a quick review as to whether you'd like to read on or if I should drop it. -Thank you, and I don't care what you read, just never stop reading. = -Nie**

RETURN TO ROSWELL

Roswell and its concepts, characters and ideas belong to its creators. I hold ownership of nothing other than my own creative meanderings which, though taking some liberties with characters who were brought to life by a crew of geniuses long before my paltry story, I hope will not do them any disservice nor injustice.

Chapter 1
Hopes and Dreams

Steve and Michelle Garrett believed their son Zan got only two things from his biological parents; good looks and the name Zan. The only requirement The Los Cruces Adoption Agency had insisted upon during the duration of the process, had been that his first name at least, had to remain Zan, his adoptive parents had compromised and made his name Zander officially, but everyone called him Zan. The boy was a good child, well behaved, never got in trouble and always did what he was asked to.

When he started having bad dreams in his early teens, neither parent thought anything of it. He always woke up scared, but couldn't remember what they were about. Something about the time when his thirteenth birthday drew close changed that. His parents only knew that Zan disappeared one night. They woke up and found his room empty that morning without a note, message or explanation. There was nothing to explain where he'd gone. Michelle stared at the shelves of things Zan never had seemed attached to that were left in the chilled room. Michelle Garrett watched the curtains move gently in the morning breeze blowing in through the open window, blankly unable to get her brain to understand he was gone. A birdsong from outside brought her out of it, and she screamed. Steve came running down the hall, half dressed for the meeting he was late for, socks skidding on the hard wood floors of the hall.

If they could have known, could have seen; Zan had a nightmare. It was one of many, but this time when he woke up; he remembered the dream. In this dream, he had seen many people, but in the end, it had just been six. Six he felt he'd always known and had no idea why. He'd seen things in his dream he remembered too. No, not things, places - he'd seen places. What he saw most clearly was a double glass door, and on the outside of it were letters. Even as he walked down the road toward the highway he could still vividly see those words. "Crashdown Café".

Zan searched online after he woke up, and there was only one place by that name, and it was two to three days away in Roswell, NM.

While his adoptive parents called NYPD, and things at his home went into chaos, Zan sat quietly in a semi, rolling slowly away from them, traveling southwest with a bear of a man possessing a voice like a puppy. Being a kid hitching a ride had the advantage of letting the kid travel straight through to Roswell. He was old enough to know that if he took a plane they'd find him right away. He didn't think his parents would ever dream he'd head to New Mexico from Rochester, New York. The different people Zan rode with on each leg of the trip seemed to talk constantly and he frequently, dozed off. In his dreams he saw the same people, the same six haunted his dreams, and there were others too. Faces Zan recognized and seemed to know, though he was sure he'd never met any of them at all.

All but one face was absolutely clear to him. He saw three pretty women, and three men. The women were prettier even than his Mom. The other man, he seemed to always be seeing from the back. Dark hair, and median height. He could feel them all; their happiness, and it all felt so real he was doing the craziest thing he'd ever done. He was riding down a long highway, with complete strangers going somewhere he wasn't even sure existed, to see people he'd never met.

Crazy, right? Well, the crazy had only just begun.

When the last driver Zan had hooked up with in Kansas City shook him, he looked around trying to figure out where he was and how he was up so high above the street until it came back to him. He blinked at the driver who said;

"That place you were talking about, it's down there on the next block. You can probably see the spaceship sticking out of the top there. Food there is bunk though; don't know why you'd want it, but good luck son. And listen, whatever your parents did wrong, don't wait too long to call them and let them know you're okay. "

Zan nodded and told the man he would, and then he opened the truck's door. He grabbed a handful of backpack strap, and swung down to the street with a smack. As he stepped away from the truck, it slowly pulled away with a puff of exhaust and a slow rising growl from the diesel engine.

He stepped onto the curb and stood staring down the street without moving for a minute. He hadn't seen the fake UFO in his dream, just the doors, seeing the UFO made him feel suddenly very unsure about what he'd done. His mind spun and spun about it, but in the end he knew he'd already come too far to turn around and back out when the answers to the questions he had were so close.

He walked down the sidewalk, slowing to let a few cars pass by at the intersection, and then stepped across and there they were; the double doors he'd dreamed about. The shades were dropped halfway down making the letters stand out against the white backdrop. Zan pushed the door to Crashdown Café open and walked in. He didn't know what he'd find, or what he was really there to see, but his heart was pounding like he was walking in to meet his maker.

It was nearing midday and the place was packed. The mixed scents of pancakes, bacon, maple syrup waffles, burgers and fries made his tummy twist in an ungentle reminder that he hadn't grabbed any food before he hit the road. Zan walked up to the counter behind a man wearing a denim shirt and a cowboy hat who was deep in conversation with another man on the other side of him. He sat down, putting his backpack between his feet and looked around. He searched every face in the place, and felt disappointment beginning to grow as he realized he didn't recognize any of the faces from his dreams. He absently listened to the low-voiced conversation of the two beside him as he continued to search toward the back.

"I think he accepted his part in it all a long time ago, Jeff. Sure he went through a lot to get there, but didn't we all."

"I didn't, Jim. I never got a damn chance to, they just went. Did what they wanted to, that boy stole my daughter from me."

"You know that's not true, as much as I do. Those two were never going to tolerate being separated. None of them were. You may not be able to see past them leaving, but you have to be happy that there is someone in this world who loves her the way he loves her."

"I wouldn't be too sure, Jim, we all just got left here, nothing but a lot of confused memories and mixed up messages from so many places I can't keep track of them anymore. I swear if I ever see that kid again I will-"

Zan had leaned far enough out to see the people on the other end of the counter and when the other man, Jeff he guessed, stopped talking suddenly he glanced at him. The man's eyes were locked with his own, wide open. The expression on his face was pure shock, and, was that anger he saw.

Zan frowned, and assuming the man thought he was eavesdropping said, "I wasn't listening."

In an instant the older man yelled out and was off his stool and had Zan by the shoulders, he pinned him against the counter as all the eyes in the place turned to see the cause of the scuffle.

The man glared intensely at him, and then looked behind him, and around the café like he was looking for someone, Zan figured probably someone to help beat him to pieces.

"Where is she, I know she wouldn't let you come without her. No way would she be far behind you. Where is she, tell me right now!"

The man in the hat turned around, jumping off his stool to grab his friend and Zan saw that it wasn't a cowboy hat, but a sheriff's hat. As the officer reached forward to the man holding him, he looked at Zan and just froze with his jaw hanging open. Zan stared back, was this one of the people in the dreams, he thought maybe he was.

The man holding Zan shook him, "You're gonna tell me, right now!" and the action seemed to shake the man in the hat out of his shock.

"Jeff, let the boy go, it isn't him. LOOK at him, Jeff, he's too young. He isn't Max, Jeff. Now let him go."

The man in the hat succeeded in working Jeff's hands loose from Zan's shoulders, and Jeff slumped back in the chair looking sad. Meanwhile, the other put his hand out.

"Sorry about that, son. Jeff gets a little excited sometimes. I'm Jim, Sheriff Jim Valenti and my over-zealous friend here is Jeff Parker, the owner of this place. I hope there are no hard feelings."

Now that Jeff was sitting down and calm, Zan began to notice he thought he might recognize the other man a bit, too.

Max took Jim's hand, "It's okay, my name is Zan, is he going to attack me again?" Zan asked, looking warily at Jeff.

Jeff was looking at him in a weird way now, searching his face. Jim continued as he let Zan's hand go.

"No, I told you he gets overzealous, but if you don't mind me asking, Zan what?"

The boy adjusted his shirt back in place and sat back on his stool again. "It's Zander Garrett, but everyone calls me Zan."

"Are you going to school around here now?"

Zan wasn't sure if he should be honest, but figured if he lied, he'd never be able to ask the bizarre questions he had.

"No, I'm from New York. I came because…"

Suddenly the idea of admitting what he was doing seemed insane. He felt his skin flush and looked at the floor.

"You've come a long way, son. I'd guess it must have been something important to bring you all this way, so why don't you just be honest and we'll see if we can help out."

A waitress came over dressed in a ridiculous old style costume with a headband sporting big Styrofoam ball topped antennae. She asked if he wanted anything and Zan ordered a cherry coke and fries.

"Orbit Rings are only ten cents more?" she offered.

"No, that's alright, just fries thanks."

Zan looked back at the Sheriff. "I know this is going to sound crazy-"

Sheriff Valenti interrupted, "It'd take a lot more than you could spill out to sound crazy to us, son. You're in Roswell, the unofficial capital of crazy." He smiled broadly and Zan felt a little of his initial tension fall away.

"Okay…well, you see I keep having these dreams. I've been having them for a while, always the same weird images and the same people, but last night they were very clear and I saw this place. I saw the door, "Crashdown Café". I hoped maybe if I came here, the nightmares and dreams might stop, and…"

The Sheriff and Jeff had exchanged several odd looks while Max had been talking. Sheriff Valenti spoke up again, "Go on son, you haven't shocked us yet."

"Well, I always see these six people, the same six people and for some stupid reason that is probably also a big step towards crazy for me, I thought they might be able to help me with my…dreams."

The two looked at each other, and Jeff said in a voice mangled by awe, "Oh my God, Jim, Tess!"

The Sheriff held up his hand, "Don't jump to conclusions just yet, Jeff." He looked back at Zan again, and somehow he seemed more interested in what Zan was saying than seemed normal, and the boy was beginning to wonder if he'd made a huge mistake.

"Zan, these dreams…would you, er….could you describe them as….well, flashes?"

Zan felt his eyes pop wide, "Yes!"

"Okay," he turned to Mr. Parker, "Prom pic, Jeff, now."

Jeff nodded, and ran to the back of the café and through the door.

"Bear with me Zan, if what you're telling me is true, we may have a few questions for you."

Zan nodded, "Well, sir, I came here because I have about a hundred of my own questions."

Jim looked over his shoulder, presumably searching for Jeff who hadn't returned yet.

"Questions such as…?" Jim left it open.

"Well, I'm adopted, sir. I haven't really ever felt I fit in, and I'd like to know if maybe these people I've been dreaming about are my real family. I wondered if they could help me with…some things that confuse me." He added in a guarded tone.

"Well, Zan, we'll do whatever we can so long as it's-" Sheriff Valenti cut off as Mr. Parker came striding back in. He extended his hand out, and held in his fingertips was a photograph.

"Do any of the people you've been dreaming about, look like these people?"

Zan took the photo, and looked at it. He studied it for a long moment, feeling tears well up in his eyes. "All of them except this guy, and this girl. This guy here…he…he looks like me, but I've never met any of these people. He's been in my dreams, but I've never seen his face." Zan looked up at the Sheriff, "What is this, who are these people?"

Jeff and the Sheriff looked at each other again; a strange current of energy seemed to pass between them. Sheriff Valenti looked at Zan then the two men motioned him to follow them into the back of the restaurant. Once there Jim gently pulled his wrist out so they could both look at the photo together.

"This is Alex Whitman, he died many years ago, that is Isabel Ramirez – she's this one's sister, the one in the back there, that's Michael Guerin and his wife Maria is here. That's my son, Kyle Valenti, this girl is Liz Evans, Jeff's daughter and…"

Jim let go of Zan's wrist and put his hand on Zan's shoulder. Then raising his hand again to point; "That is Tess Harding, she died as well, many years ago. This one, the one who looks like you, that is Max, Max Evans, and if you are who I think you are, Max and Tess are your biological parents, and that would make you a very, very special young man."

Zan gaped at Jim. He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but he couldn't make his mouth form anything coherent. Images from his dreams came to him.

"They're older…in my dreams. They…where are they? Are they here," Zan felt his tummy flip, and felt hot and cold all over. "Are they here, in…Roswell?"