A/N: First of all I do not own the characters of Roswell; they were created by Jason Katims and Melissa Metz.
Opening the door he was confronted with an embrace so ferocious in its conception that he staggered, lungs briefly screaming for air before the grip loosened slightly and he was able to process the sweet and spicy scent of Maria. Maria. His arms wove themselves around her waist, chin resting on the top of her head and nearly nuzzling into the silken expanse.
"Michael," Maria's voice was choked with emotions that she needn't explain and he didn't need to look into her eyes to know that they were full of tears. "Michael, he said he could help us and I think…I think it might be a wise choice with all things considered. Kyle's ankle is badly sprained…his arm is broken and Liz…"
Michael frowned at the mention of Elizabeth Parker. She had been missing in action before and after the attack on the camp site. That much he had recalled before being zapped by Mr. Walker Texas Ranger.
"Liz? What about Liz? I thought she'd been taken with everyone else," Turning abruptly as the old man entered into the room shaking his head Michael's eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher the feeling of black dread slowly creeping up from the pit of his stomach. "What is it that everyone knows and I don't?"
The silence hung like a heavy curtain, obstructing other thoughts of how and when to begin this search and rescue operation. A quiet, semi-creepy humming started up from behind him and Michael glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the boy. Now devoid of blood but no less disturbing in appearance the fair-haired child was staring blankly up at him and that was when Michael realized what was so strange about the boy.
"He looks like…he is…"
Maria seemed to stare at Michael with the kind of sympathy she reserved for him when he had made a stupid mistake and so she began to finish the sentence for him, "SHE looks like Tess. SHE is what is commonly known as an albino. Extremely rare in human beings and…the funny thing is that I was under the impression there was only one baby."
Michael gaped, staring at the mute girl in the ratty Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was at least four sizes too large. "I…thought so too. Why is she not a baby?"
O'Rourke smiled grimly, touching a calloused finger tip to his temple and rubbing as though to assuage a sudden pain. He knew that these kids were going to have some difficulty processing the enormous weight of the information that was crashing down on their heads. O'Rourke knew a thing or two about surprises and secrets, he had plenty of his own pop up over the years and this girl had been one of them.
"Her name is Zoë, my son and his wife found her on a highway a year ago. She's 10-years-old by my guess."
Their attention switched back to him as Kyle hobbled into the room with a blood-stained towel hanging around his neck, "She's awake…we need to move fast."