Birthright *Series* Season 2 (CC, TEEN), Chapter 75, 12/31/19

[Kathy W]

^^ I've always wanted Carver to meet the rest of them, not just Michael. Under the circumstances, I thought he deserved to meet them all, and they deserved to meet him.







CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT





October 31, 2000, 7:30 p.m.

Roswell






Maria let out a little shriek as she dug in her bag. "OhMyGod! Mallomars! Two Mallomars! Oh, this is heaven," she announced, tearing the wrapping off and taking a big, marshmallowy bite.

"Aren't we supposed to wait until we get home to eat the candy?" Max asked.

"Says who?" Maria demanded, a little unclearly as her mouth was full.

"Says common decency," Isabel answered primly. "Besides, we're not here for the candy. We're here to see and be seen."

"Speak for yourself," Maria advised. "I'm here for the candy. But if you're not, can I have your Mallomars?"

Sighing the sigh of the put-upon, Isabel passed her bag to Maria, who happily relieved her of two Mallomars as Max suppressed a smile. It was Halloween, that yearly bacchanal of costumes and candy, and the streets were full of both. Most of those their age were at least ostensibly of Isabel's persuasion, out and about to see and be seen, but he was willing to bet that would change once back in the privacy of their own homes. There would be a lot of sick stomachs tomorrow.

"Wait—you have a big Milky Way?" Maria said. "I don't have a big Milky Way, and we've been to all the same places. Who gives out big Milky Ways?"

"My grandparents," Isabel said.

"You trick-or-treat at your grandparents?" Maria said. "Don't they live in, like, Colorado?"

"Corona," Isabel corrected. "We've started our trick-or-treating at my grandparents ever since I can remember."

"And now we can drive ourselves there," Max added.

"Did you know that Corona is actually much closer to the crash site than Roswell?" Isabel said.

Max stared at her. "Where did that come from?"

"Yeah, where did that come from?" Maria said.

Isabel shrugged. "Just a little factoid I picked up recently. Come along, you two. You're holding up the line."

They were. Maria stuffed the last of her Mallomar into her mouth as they marched up to the next door, passing a group of doorbell-ringers on the way. It was a veritable assembly line, with many of the girls tottering on towering heels similar in height to Isabel's, which could have been flats given her solid gait. Maria had eschewed heels, probably just as well given that they demanded a great deal of attention which she preferred to give the contents of her bag.

"There you are!" said a costume-clad supplicant as they joined the end of the line. "I've been looking for you."

"Tess?" Isabel said in surprise. "But I thought you didn't do Halloween."

"You changed my mind," Tess said. "So I threw a costume together. What do you think?"

"Wonder Woman," Maria said promptly. "The red trunks gave it away."

"I didn't have much to work with," Tess admitted. "So I—"

Someone detached from the line leaving the front door. "Hey, everyone!" Kyle called, his horn-rimmed glasses perched firmly on his nose. "I didn't know you were coming out, Tess. You could have come with me."

"Really?" Tess said. "I would think you wouldn't want to be seen with me. Your 'reputation', and all."

"Nah," Kyle answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I may not be big on Martians, but you're still the Martian I know...best," he finished faintly as Isabel glared at him, Max raised an eyebrow, and Tess looked pained.

"Good one, Valenti," Maria said. "Excellent example of 'foot in mouth' disease."

"Heh...yeh," Kyle agreed uncomfortably. "Well...I am trick-or-treating as a nerd. Kinda goes with the territory, don't you think?"

"Not really," Isabel answered.

An awkward silence followed. "Well...um...great costume, Tess!" Kyle said finally. "Where'd you get it? Wait...isn't that my cape?"

"From last year's Crash Festival, if memory serves," Maria noted.

"I found it in your closet," Tess said. "It didn't look like something you wore every day."

"Heck, no!" Kyle agreed. "Not at all. I…" He stopped again, his eyes straying south before widening. "Are those...are those my…" He leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a strangled whisper. "Are those my Calvins?"

"I needed red trunks," Tess shrugged. "Wonder Woman has to have red trunks."

"So...so you're walking around the streets in my...in my..." Kyle stopped, eyes bulging. Max pressed his lips together hard to keep from smiling as Isabel hid a grin behind her hand, and Maria didn't bother hiding hers.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Tess said. "But honestly, who's gonna notice? It's not like you've got your name sewn into them, or anything—"

"You're wearing my underwear?" Kyle hissed in disbelief. "You're trick-or-treating in my underwear? Why don't you wear your own underwear?"

"Because none of them are red," Tess said.

"Nice shade," Maria giggled.

"Very manly," Isabel agreed.

"I don't believe this!" Kyle said furiously. "Would you just stay the hell out of my stuff?"

"Sorry," Tess said. "I was going to have them washed and back in your drawer before you even knew they were gone, but if you want, I'll give them back right now."

"No! No, I...oh, God," Kyle said frantically as Tess pushed the briefs to her knees. "Oh, God, this isn't happening. Is this really happening?"

"Really happening," Maria assured him.

"Definitely happening," Isabel agreed.

"One more vote for 'happening'," Max added.

"Great, you're all comedians," Kyle said sourly. "Lucky me."

"Valenti!"

It was Alex, still wearing his jock costume. "How's it goin', man?" Alex said, clapping Kyle on the back so hard, he coughed. "Everything coolio?"

"We do not say coolio!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Coolio!" Alex chanted, high-fiving Maria. "Later, dude!"

"And we don't say...oh, never mind," Kyle said crossly, stalking away in a huff, muttering to himself.

"Looks like you can keep the panties," Maria noted.

"Sheesh," Tess said, pulling them back up. "Can you say 'squeamish'?"

They had reached the top of the line. Bags were presented, cries of "trick or treat" uttered, and candy dutifully dropped into bags. "Peppermint Patties!" Maria squealed, tearing off another wrapper and sinking her teeth into a round chocolate disk. "I love these!"

"You love everything sugar," Isabel said disapprovingly. "If you keep stopping to eat everything, we'll never get any candy."

"I thought you didn't want to eat it," Maria said.

"I never said that," Isabel said coolly. "I just don't want to eat it now."

"Why don't you and Tess go on?" Max suggested. "Maria and I can trick-or-treat together."

Maria munched her Peppermint Patty as Isabel and Tess pulled ahead. "So...no Liz tonight?" Max said, trying to sound neutral.

"Probably studying," Maria said. "Or maybe she's not into Halloween. Kind of like Space Boy."

"I heard the two of you are back together," Max said.

"We are," Maria sighed happily, "and I have that Army captain to thank for that. I saw him again today."

"You did?" Max said. "When?"

"At the Crashdown. He was in for breakfast this morning, all huddled with a couple of ex-soldiers, from the reunion, I guess. Gave me a tongue-lashing when I got snarky. He's no pushover, that's for sure."

"No one who did what he did would be a pushover," Max noted.

"True," Maria said soberly. "And good thing, too, or none of you would be here."

They walked in silence for a time, Maria munching, Max musing, until they found themselves in sight of the Crashdown. "It's weird," Max said, stopping on the corner. "Never in a million years would I have thought that Michael would change his mind and Liz wouldn't."

"Me neither," Maria agreed.

"She did call me to ask about the Granolith," Max said. "I wanted to call her, but I thought she might not like it."

"She asked me to tell her about the Grano-whatever, and I told her to call you if she wanted to know," Maria said. "Obviously she wants to know. Liz doesn't need to 'change her mind', Max. She loves you; she always has. She thinks she's doing the right thing, that she's giving you space to follow your destiny."

"I don't want my 'destiny'," Max said. "I want Liz."

"To be fair, the day may come when you do want your destiny," Maria pointed out.

"And if that day comes, I'll want it with Liz," Max said firmly. "Wherever I go, whatever I do, I want to be with her. If I really did get a second chance at life, that means I get a second chance at everything. That includes deciding who I love."

Maria nodded slowly. "Well said. Trouble is, you're talking to the wrong person." She pointed to the Crashdown. "Tell her. And keep telling her. Tell her even if you think she won't like it. Tell her in a hundred different ways. Tell her even when she tells you to stop. You've been letting her drive this, backing away like some obedient puppy. That's sweet, but it's not getting you anywhere. Can you imagine if I'd done that with Michael?"

"You really think I should?" Max said doubtfully.

"Do something crazy," Maria advised. "Something unexpected. Something that will make her smile even as she tells you it's no use."

Max hovered uncertainly, looking at the Crashdown...and then suddenly, lightning struck. "Give me your bag," he ordered.

Maria blinked. "My bag? What for?"

"I need the M&M's you got earlier," Max said.

"No way, buddy!" Maria protested. "I love M&M's!"

"You just told me to do something crazy," Max said. "I'm about to do something crazy."

"I didn't mean with my candy," Maria said. "Mitts off!"

"Maria...please," Max begged.

Maria glared at him for a moment. "Oh, fine," she said crossly, handing over her bag. "But I don't see why my taste buds should have to suffer for your destiny. Where are you going?" she demanded as he sprinted across the street.

He left her protesting, and a minute later he was below Liz's window. "Liz!" he called. "Are you up there? Liz!"

She was, pencil in hand, probably doing homework as Maria had suggested. "Max?" she said in surprise. "I...what are you doing here? I thought all of you were trick-or treating."

"Not you," Max said.

"Yeah, I...I wasn't in the mood this year," Liz said.

"So I brought Halloween to you," Max said. "Catch!"

The package soared through the air, landing neatly in her hands as she stared at it in astonishment. "Open it," Max urged.

He heard plastic tearing. "They're all blue," Liz said faintly.

"Your favorite color," Max smiled. "Remember how happy you were when everyone voted for blue as the new M&M color?"

"That was years ago," Liz said. "We didn't even know each other."

"I knew you," Max said. "I've always known you."

They gazed at each other for a moment in silence, her hanging over the edge, him looking skywards. "Max, we can't...we just can't…"

"Of course we can," Max said. "I love you, Liz. I'll always love you, and I know you love me. And no book, no 'destiny', no past I don't even remember is going to change that."

"Max...no…"

"I'll be back," Max promised. "I'll come to your window every night if I have to, as long as it takes. I won't stop. If I have to turn every single M&M in this country blue, I'll do it. If I have to pile them all on your balcony, I'll do it. Just think...any time you need a sugar fix, all you have to do is reach outside."

Liz bit back a smile. "That might make it hard to see out the window. Or see you down there. Or fit in my jeans."

"I don't care," Max said. "I'm not giving up, Liz."

"This is because of Michael, isn't it?" Liz said. "Look, I'm happy for them, but—-"

"It's not because of Michael. It's because of me, and because of you." Max backed away, never taking his eyes off the balcony. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

He finally turned around when he reached the street; getting hit by a car wouldn't exactly be helpful. And that's how he missed the smile on her face as she hugged the bag of candy to her chest like it was a lot more than just candy.






********************************************************






Langley Residence






Lights had just begun to pop on when Dee reached Brivari's house, lugging her pile of containers up the front steps and setting them on a porch chair. No sense knocking; she knew he wouldn't answer. Assuming he's here, she amended as she made short work of the front door lock. She hadn't really worked out what she was going to do if he wasn't.

He was. The television blared in an otherwise dark living room as she closed the front door behind her. The chair had been turned to face the TV, but otherwise, it didn't look like much had changed, including his mood.

"I see you've permanently given up on the human custom of knocking," Brivari said sourly.

"Kind of a waste of time, don't you think?" Dee said.

"Didn't I throw you out?"

"You did," Dee confirmed.

"So what, may I ask, are you doing here?"

"I brought dinner!" Dee said cheerfully. "And candy. I figured you weren't keeping much of an eye on the calendar."

"Candy?" Brivari said. "What would I want that for?"

"All the little hobgoblins will be out soon," Dee said. "The youngest ones come out early."

Brivari stared at her in consternation for a moment before his eyes widened. "Wait...do you mean what I think you mean? Because I don't participate in human festivals."

"You do tonight," Dee said. "I left your porch light on."

"You what?" Brivari exclaimed, actually starting to get out of the chair when the doorbell suddenly rang.

"I'll get it!" Dee said as he glared at her, sailing to the door before he could stop her. A small collection of young trick-or-treaters was gathered on the front porch, with their wary parents huddled at the bottom of the steps.

"Trick-or-treat!" chorused the children, peering curiously inside.

"Is it okay that we're here?" a mother asked nervously. "I don't recall anyone ever handing out candy at this house."

"We're frequently out of town, but not this year," Dee answered, dropping miniature candy bars into not-so-miniature bags. "One for you, and one for you, and one for...oh my goodness. Are you Tigger? From Winne the Pooh? I loved Tigger! Can you bounce? You certainly can," she laughed as the pint-sized tiger obligingly jumped up and down, making the whole porch shake. "Happy Halloween, everyone!"

The group clattered down the steps. Closing the door, she turned around to find a scowling Warder behind her.

"Please tell me the children didn't see you," Dee said. "You'll give them nightmares for weeks."

"What the hell are you doing?" Brivari demanded.

"Participating in life," Dee said calmly. "You should try it some time. Come have some dinner."

"Another 'casserole'?" Brivari grumbled.

"Nope. Steak, green beans, rolls, and baked potatoes. And dessert. And wine. Shall we?"

"I'm not hungry," Brivari muttered.

"When was the last time you ate? Hmm? That's what I thought," Dee said when he didn't answer. "Come sit down, and I'll tell you all about how Isabel figured out that I know she's not human."

Dee marched into the kitchen, making him scurry after her. "Vilandra?" he said curiously, interested in spite of himself. "I thought you said it was Ava."

"And now it's both," Dee said, dishing food onto plates. "It appears the girls are ahead of the boys on this one. Oops, there's the doorbell. Back in a minute!"

Dee smiled as she left him tongue-tied and frustrated. If he really meant to throw her out, he was going to miss all the best intel, and she wanted to drive that point home. Another round of candy later, she returned to the kitchen where he was busily scarfing down one of his favorite meals. It was funny how horrified all the Warders had been by the notion of eating "flesh" when they'd first arrived. The two who had survived had not only gotten used to it, they'd actually come to prefer it. Steak was one of their favorites.

"What did Vilandra say?" Brivari demanded. "Do they all know now? Does your son know?"

"Working backwards, no and no," Dee answered, uncorking the wine. "And Isabel decided that I knew she was 'different' the way Max is supposedly 'different' because of the way he put out that fire."

"So...she didn't tell you she's not human?"

"No," Dee allowed, "although I certainly invited her to. I even used the 'A' word, but she didn't bite."

"Hmpf," Brivari said. "Sounds like she's nowhere near as far along as Ava."

"Or as far along as you are on that steak," Dee noted.

Brivari scowled at her, but kept eating. "I met with Larak last night," Dee said casually, "and I'm here with a report."

"About what? Everyone made it very clear they weren't the least bit interested in what I had to say."

"You have to admit you're a bit under the weather at the moment," Dee said.

"And you have to admit you're way out of your league," Brivari retorted.

"Of course I admit it," Dee said. "I admitted it yesterday, I'm admitting it again now...how many times do I have to say it? I'm nothing but a replacement, and a poor one at that. I went because you wouldn't."

"Of course I wouldn't," Brivari said crossly, but not as crossly as he might have, her admission appearing to have mollified him somewhat. "I'll never support a treaty which denies my Ward his throne."

"What makes you think he wants it?" Dee said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You heard me," Dee said. "What if Max doesn't want the throne? What if he turns it down? What then?"

Brivari stared at his plate. "When he finally remembers...that won't happen."

"If he remembers," Dee said, "and it might. Jaddo knew that. He was just acknowledging that when he—"

"Haven't we already had this conversation?" Brivari interrupted. "I refuse to support any 'treaty', or 'armistice', or whatever you want to call it that denies the King his rightful place. What was taken from him will be returned. Period."

Dee shook her head. "You and Jaddo. Just like Eamon de Valera and Michael Collins."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Brivari said peevishly. "Or care?"

"You should," Dee said. "Because history has a nasty habit of repeating itself. Granted that was Ireland in 1921, not Antar in 2000, but it appears the adage is universal in ways even I wasn't aware of."

"What are you talking about?" Brivari said in exasperation.

"Just this," Dee said. "Eamon de Valera and Michael Collins led the fight for Ireland's independence from Great Britain. De Valera sent Collins to London to hammer out a peace treaty, and demanded the establishment of an Irish Republic. Collins came back with a compromise, an Irish Free State. He said a republic was too big a step at that point, something they couldn't pull off until later. De Valera refused to accept that. His insistence on a republic started a civil war, and Collins was assassinated. That knocked some much-needed sense into everyone, and the Free State lasted until 1949, when de Valera finally got his republic. Too bad it came at the expense of his friend's life."

Brivari stared at her. "So you're saying I killed Jaddo?"

Dee's expression softened. "Of course not. I'm saying that what you want, what you're insisting on, is a step too far at this point in time. Simply parking Max on the throne will never fly. You have to start somewhere. It's a process, not a pronouncement."

"It should be a pronouncement," Brivari muttered.

"And maybe it would have been if things had gone as planned," Dee said. "If the hybrids had matured on schedule and been born as who they used to be, you would have been going back much earlier. But that's not how it worked out. It's been years, decades, and too much has happened, both here and back home. That's nobody's fault, least of all yours; it's just the way it happened, and it calls for a different strategy. You're a master of strategy, Brivari. You know this."

They ate in silence for several minutes, hers thoughtful, his sullen. She refilled his wine glass and waited until it was half gone before speaking again.

"So I asked Larak to fill me in on the discussion about the treaty. He had some interesting things to tell me."

"Unlikely" Brivari said. "They'll jump at anything."

"He says the Argilian Resistance has grown very strong," Dee continued, ignoring him. "Everyone is so unhappy with Khivar that the Resistance is quite popular. It would appear that Jaddo's idea of uniting Michael and Courtney is even better than we thought."

"He was just trying to get his Ward on the throne," Brivari said sourly.

"He was using marriage the old-fashioned way," Dee corrected, "as a way to unite two political tribes. But whichever way you see it, Courtney has decided to make a determined play for Michael. Not sure how that's going to turn out."

"It won't turn out unless she straight out tells him who she is," Brivari said. "But she won't. She'll do the girl thing and try to seduce him first."

"I take it you don't recommend that?" Dee said.

"Would you trust someone who lied to you about something like that?"

"I guess not," Dee allowed. "She also thinks you're going to renege on your offer to find a way to keep her alive past her husk's sell-by date."

"She committed treason," Brivari said flatly.

"She took a risk," Dee countered. "That's what leaders do."

"And sometimes they fail."

"And sometimes they don't," Dee said firmly. "Courtney has five planets behind her. I'd call that a win."

Brivari snorted softly and went back to eating, but didn't argue with her. Dee counted that as a win of her own and let the subject drop; they certainly weren't going to settle this tonight, but she'd wanted to get it on the table because there was no way in hell she would stand quietly by while he let Courtney die. "Larak also had some interesting news about Kathana and Sero," Dee went on. "I don't know either of them, but Courtney was certainly fascinated when he told us that one had slept with the other's wife."

Brivari's head snapped up. "What's this?"

"I gather it happened during peace talks between their planets," Dee chuckled. "Seems the talks were scuttled. Guess we can't blame Khivar for everything."

"Who?" Brivari demanded. "Which one slept with which?"

The doorbell rang. "Back in a few!" Dee said cheerfully.

"Damn it!" Brivari exclaimed. "This has got to be the most annoying holiday in the galaxy!"

Dee struggled to keep a straight face as she answered the door and dispensed more treats. Despite his kvetching, she could already see Brivari coming back to life. Nothing like a bit of flattery and some dirt from home to perk up one's spirits. She'd never cared for gossip, but under the circumstances, perhaps the universe would forgive her for engaging in a little interplanetary tittle-tattle. It was all for a good cause.





**********************************************************






Two weeks later



November 14, 2000, 9:15 p.m.,

Crashdown Cafe






"No waitresses in the kitchen," Maria commanded.

"Hey, Mikey G. You got my order?" Courtney asked, ignoring her.

"Yeah, right there," Rath answered.

"Takeoff Tacos, Plutonium Platter, and the Greek God salad, light on the feta," Courtney smiled, planting a slap on Rath's behind. "You're such a good boy."

She left, studiously not looking as Maria's evil eye followed her. What incredibly bad luck that Rath should have a change of heart regarding Maria just as she'd had her own change of heart about aggressively pursuing Rath. This recent detente was apparently the result of an encounter between Rath and a human soldier who had saved the hybrids' lives shortly after the crash, a chance meeting they might never have learned of if said soldier hadn't spoken to a friend of Dee's from the same era. Jaddo's death was unfortunate in so many ways, but one of the most annoying was the dearth of information about what was happening in the hybrids' lives. Tess used to tell Jaddo, who told the rest of them; now that link was severed, and there was no good replacement. This time, they'd just been lucky.

"I'm just about done here," she heard Rath say when she returned to the back. "I'll see you later."

"I've still got a few more hours on my shift," Maria said. "Enjoy your freedom."

"That's so sweet of you," Courtney remarked when Maria exited the kitchen. "We will."

Maria's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that I'm off at the same time as Mikey G."

Maria came closer. "He's mine!" she hissed under her breath.

Courtney blinked. "Who is?"

"You know who," Maria accused.

"I do? Oh! Did you, like, get a dog, or something? No?" Courtney went on when Maria's eyes narrowed. "A gerbil, then? Or maybe a fish?"

"Just know this," Maria warned. "You mess with him, you mess with me."

"A threeway," Courtney said thoughtfully. "I'm up for that."

"Oh, forget it," Maria exclaimed in exasperation. "Just keep your hands off my stuff. All of my stuff."

Rath came out of the kitchen as Maria went into the cafe. "What was that all about?"

"She ordered me to keep her hands off her stuff," Courtney answered. "I don't go in her locker, so I have no idea what she's talking about, although I doubt it's the salt and pepper shakers."

"Her 'stuff'?" Rath repeated in disbelief. "She actually said 'stuff'?"

"She did," Courtney confirmed. "And not just 'stuff—all her stuff. Hope that doesn't mean the air she's breathing. So," she went on as Rath scowled, "I'm off too. Want to walk me home?"

Rath gave her a wary look. "Maybe some other time."

Well, shit, Courtney thought disconsolately. Rath was clearly interested in her overtures, but he was still hanging back. Much as it pained her to admit it, Brivari might be right. Dee had passed along his observation that the best course of action would be to simply out herself to the King's Second, and being the only person on this planet who had actually known Rath, he would know. But even though Brivari's mood was improving, she was still smarting from their dust-up two weeks ago and still unclear as to whether he viewed her as traitor or ally, both of which made her loathe to give his advice the time of day. Besides, the thought of simply saying, "Hey, I'm an alien!" was downright terrifying, even if they were technically from the same planet. Truth be told, she'd rather come clean to Zan, who didn't have the knee-jerk tendencies so typical of his Second.

"Okay, well...I'm off," Courtney said. "Don't stay up too late...wait. What is that?"

It was music, coming from outside, strings plucked and strung. "Oh my God," Courtney said, peering out a window as Rath came up behind her. "He's at it again!"

"What is it this time?" Rath sighed.

"Looks like some kind of band," Courtney reported. "And a big ass hat."

"A hat?" Rath said incredulously.

"Yeah. Big round thing. And he's...singing? Holy shit, he's singing! In Spanish!"

"No self respect," Rath muttered.

"Maybe," Courtney allowed. "But points for effort, don't you think?"

"Not from me," Rath said.

Courtney hung out the window as the strains of Zan's latest attempt to melt the iceberg named Liz Parker wafted inside. He'd come several nights over the past couple of weeks, always doing something corny like sending up chocolates on a helium balloon. These visitations had begun to attract attention, with some patrons speculating they were publicity stunts, but Courtney knew better. It was said Zan had done similar things to win over Ava, who had realized that being a queen wasn't as wonderful as the storytellers would have you believe. Got that right, she thought sadly. Being a queen had gotten Ava killed, and Liz Parker certainly possessed sufficient brain cells to recognize her peril.

Mr. Parker appeared behind them. "What is that noise?"

"Max Evans is outside," Courtney grinned. "Singing."

"Max?" Mr. Parker repeated. "Again?" He checked his watch. "Good grief," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Hope he's almost done," Rath said to Courtney. "Because, like it or not, he's almost done."

Courtney leaned further out the window, just barely able to see Zan gazing upward with a smitten look on his face. This would be downright romantic if he'd picked someone of the right species. What was it with hybrids and humans? Presented with not only one of his own kind, but his own wife, Zan still preferred the human girlfriend; would Rath do the same? If she played her cards right, they'd find out soon enough.

"Sheesh," Mr. Parker grumbled on the way back down the stairs. "That was the weirdest one yet."

"Can't fault his taste in women," Courtney noted.

Mr. Parker's expression softened. "No, I can't. He seems like a nice kid, just a bit...intense."

"He always was," Courtney allowed. "Or so I'm told."

Mr. Parker blinked for a moment before removing something from his pocket. "I was supposed to give this to Lizzie, but I got all discombobulated, and I doubt she wants to see me again right after I chased her suitor off. Could you…?"

"No problem," Courtney said. "Mariachi bands can do that to you."

Courtney took the book Mr. Parker handed her and skipped up the stairs, where Liz's door was ajar. "Knock, knock?" she called, pushing the door open a bit. "Liz? Your dad asked me to…"

Courtney's voice trailed off as her eyes landed on who was standing next to a stricken Liz Parker. "Wow," Courtney said admiringly. "So you're not just a musician, you're a quick change artist."

"Oh, um, yeah, we're just...we're just going over costumes for something we're doing at school," Liz said hastily.

"Sure," Courtney said knowingly. "School. So, Latino boy band to Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. Don't tell your dad."

The object of her scrutiny returned her stare, unblinking. Somehow, some way, Zan had managed to get upstairs in seconds and morph from wholesome small town boy to badass biker, complete with long hair and leather vest. Must be nice to have powers. "Please don't tell my dad," Liz was pleading. "Max isn't supposed to be up here, and...um…"

"Yeah," Courtney nodded. "School night. I heard. Pretty much the whole neighborhood heard. But no worries—this is so much better than the big ass hat. I approve."

"I'm not surprised," Zan said. "You were always quite the rebel."

Startled, Courtney stared at him; the twin appearance of past tense and the word "rebel" was jarring, and there was something about his tone, about the way his eyes fastened on hers, that made her uneasy. "Your dad wanted me to give this to you," she said, handing over the book. "Guess he thought you were mad at him."

"Yeah, thanks," Liz said. "And thanks for not saying anything."

"See you later," Zan added.

"Yeah...later," Courtney said uncertainly, shaking her head on the way back down the stairs and out the back door, where she found Rath waiting beside a...motorcycle?

"Want a ride?" Rath said.

Courtney broke into a wide smile. "Sweet! Where'd this come from?"

"It's on loan," Rath said. "Hop on."

With pleasure, Courtney thought, wrapping her arms around Rath's waist. This was an unexpected and welcome coup, so much so that it momentarily blotted out her uneasiness about her encounter with the weirdly dressed Zan.

For just a minute there, she could have sworn he knew who she was.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 49 on Sunday, May 8.

[keepsmiling7]

Cute exchange between Kyle and Tess.......they belonged together.
Sure glad Max is still after Liz......wish he could meet with success.
Great part,
Carolyn

[Kathy W]

Hello and thank you to everyone reading, and thanks for the feedback! ^^^








CHAPTER FORTY-NINE





November 14, 2000, 10:30 p.m.

Valenti Residence






Hands on hips, Tess Harding surveyed her bedroom with a critical eye. Well...perhaps "her" bedroom wasn't entirely accurate. Which was ironic, really, given that one of the few constants in her notoriously varied life was the fact that she had always, always had a bedroom all to herself, and to decorate as she saw fit. It was one of the few perks of her and Nasedo's nomadic existence, and she'd been feeling its absence acutely these past few weeks. It had been kind of Kyle to offer his bedroom, but the fact remained that it was his bedroom, littered with guy stuff and guy decor, if "decor" could be used to describe its current state. She couldn't do much about the furniture, but she could certainly do something about the walls. All the sports posters would have to go, and perhaps the sheriff could be persuaded to let her "paint" the walls a different color, especially since she could put everything back exactly the way she'd found it with little effort. The questions was, what color? She'd just raised a hand to do a few experiments when the front door slammed.

Crap. Her two month review on living with the Valenti's was that while sometimes it was wonderful to have other people around, other times it was downright annoying. TV's blared at odd hours, food left in the fridge disappeared, messes weren't cleaned up, and invariably, just as she found herself wanting a little alone time, someone appeared. Like someone had now, although she had to give them credit for always providing a warning in the form of a slammed door.

"Anybody home?" Kyle bellowed. "Dad?"

"In here," Tess called, noting that she still hadn't made the list of "anybody".

Kyle appeared in the bedroom doorway. "Tess! Just the person I wanted to see. You'll never guess what I saw in town tonight. Go ahead...guess!"

"An alien," Tess said promptly.

"Oh, come on," Kyle admonished. "Really guess! No, wait," he added, frowning. "Max Evans is an alien, so I suppose I have to give you half credit."

"You saw Max?" Tess said. "So what? You see him every day."

Kyle shook his head. "Not wearing a sombrero and singing."

Tess blinked. "What?"

"You heard me," Kyle said, a wide smile on his face. "There I was in my car, and there was Evans wearing this big ol' hat, and with this weird band behind him wearing big ol' hats. So I rolled down the window, and he was singing! In Spanish! I think," he amended thoughtfully. "I'm not really sure what Spanish sounds like."

"Kyle," Tess said wearily, "you take Spanish in school."

"Doesn't mean I know what it sounds like," Kyle noted. "Anyway, he kept singing until Mr. Parker showed up and shooed him away. Weirdest thing he's done yet, and he's done some weird ones these past couple of weeks."

Tess's chest constricted. "Mr. Parker? What does Liz's father have to do with this?"

"Well, duh," Kyle said. "Max was singing to Liz. He's been mooning around outside her window almost every night for a couple of weeks now. Everyone's talking about it. Didn't you know?"

"I...no," Tess said, flustered. "I thought he and Liz weren't dating any more because Liz didn't want to."

"Word is she doesn't, but he's not taking no for an answer," Kyle said. "He's making a determined push to get her back. Maybe Michael and Maria getting back together inspired him."

"Michael and Maria? No way," Tess declared. "I mean, I know he was feeling really grateful toward humans after we heard about that soldier—"

"Way," Kyle said firmly. "Maria said so. And she's been hanging all over him. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"Kyle, she's always hanging all over him."

"True," Kyle agreed. "But he's letting her hang all over him. Or at least he's not leaving in disgust as quickly as he used to."

"That's your evidence?" Tess said skeptically. "Michael and Maria are back together because Michael isn't barfing on her?"

"Granted, it's not as obvious as Max," Kyle allowed. "His efforts could be seen from space. No pun intended."

"What exactly is he doing?" Tess asked warily.

"You mean besides public singing in a foreign language? Okay, try this," Kyle said. "He sent a blizzard of paper airplanes onto her balcony, just shot'em one by one from the street. There were so many, her entire balcony was covered like snow, and they all had 'I love you!' written on them."

"And you know this how?" Tess said. "Doesn't seem like something Liz would tell you."

"Word gets around. Everyone was wondering how he managed to land them all so accurately, but you and I know," Kyle said, tapping his temple with a sly smile. "Witchy woo."

"It's not 'witchy woo'," Tess said tartly. "And who exactly is 'everyone'?"

"Well, he's out on the street doing all this stuff," Kyle said, "so anyone coming in and out of the Crashdown sees him, anyone walking by sees him. I'm really surprised you haven't heard about this. Isn't this backwards? Isn't the girl supposed to know all this?"

"I'm an alien, remember? Maybe you're more 'girl' than I am. Kidding," Tess added when Kyle looked alarmed. "Just kidding. And don't go bench press a truck to prove your manhood."

"Okay," Kyle said doubtfully. "Anyway...everyone's betting on what Max will do next, so I was wondering if you'd like in? Although this latest is pretty darn cool, so just about anything would be a long shot…oh," he added when he saw the look on her face. "Oh geez, I forgot. Wasn't Evans supposed to be your squeeze? Or you wanted him to be your squeeze? Or—"

"We were married in our past lives," Tess interrupted, cutting him off before he said something else nauseating. "But he doesn't remember that."

"Does that mean you do?"

"Yes!" Tess answered impatiently. "I mean...sort of. A little. I remember what it felt like."

"That's not much," Kyle said dubiously.

"It's enough," Tess muttered.

"Does this mean you don't want to bet—"

"Yes, Kyle, it means I don't want to bet," Tess said crossly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone. In my room," she clarified. "Okay, your room," she amended when he looked blank. "The room you offered me, remember? Or have you done a brain fart like Max? Out!"

"Right," Kyle said, skedaddling. She was closing the door when he put out a hand to stop it. "Just to be clear, what exactly were you doing when I came in? Because redecorating wasn't part of the—"

Tess pushed the door closed on his babbling and plopped on the bed, so agitated she could barely see straight. As unsettling as it was to hear that Max was making such a fool out of himself over Liz, it was even more unsettling to hear that Michael had caved. What was he thinking? Michael was the dependable one, the one who wanted to go home, who thought they had a responsibility to go home. Gratitude was all well and good, but couldn't he just thank Maria for her efforts on his behalf and be done with it? Did he have to actually go back to her? This was nuts.

Not as nuts as Max, she amended darkly. At least Michael wasn't hanging around on street corners making a total fool of himself. Singing in sombreros? A flock of paper airplanes? How corny. How childish. How embarrassing. How...utterly romantic, she admitted, tears welling in her eyes. It was hard to brand his behavior childish when she was pretty sure he'd done something similar in that previous life, and that time, he'd done it for her.

Doesn't matter, Tess decided, rising to her feet. They weren't there, they were here. This wasn't then, it was now. Here and now was all she could control, so she may as well get back to redecorating. And while she was it, maybe she should come up with a Plan B just in case Max never did manage to get with the program. If he was so determined to rewrite his destiny, perhaps she should consider rewriting her own.






********************************************************






Banks Residence






Courtney pulled her clothes off, turned the shower knob, and stepped back, letting the warm rain fall inside the tub as she sat down on the toilet seat beside it. She'd meant what she'd said when she'd told Rath she'd play any game he wanted to, but secretly she was glad he hadn't opted for a joint shower. Moisture was great for husks, but water pressure wasn't, at least not for husks as old as hers. If she'd showered tonight, she wouldn't have been able to do so again until next week, having long ago settled on the gentler sponge bath as a less damaging method of cleansing. She'd give it a few minutes, go out slightly damp in a towel, and then the real fun would begin because she had him—she knew she had him. Rath hadn't wanted to bring her home, but he had. He hadn't wanted to come in, but he had, and then he'd taken it to the next level by suggesting a shower. So now she was finally going to have sex the human way, with none other than the King's Second and, hopefully, her future husband. There was something deeply satisfying about that, and she leaned back on the seat, the steam from the shower soaking into her grateful husk.

"Maybe you should put on some tunes, baby," she called.

There was a pause before the reply came. "Good idea...baby."

Cute, Courtney thought with a smile. He sounded so hesitant, so awkward. The Rath she'd known...or rather, known of...had been anything but awkward in public life, although she couldn't speak for his private life. Maybe that's why he'd fallen for the vacuous Vilandra, an odd pairing if ever there was one, and she hadn't been the only one who'd thought so. Granted Vilandra was famously beautiful, but it had always seemed like Rath would have wanted more…and, honestly, maybe he had. Watching Isabel in this world had left no doubt that there had been more to Vilandra than anyone thought. Maybe Rath had seen something the rest of them had missed.

"By the way, you are an amazing kisser," Courtney added with a smile.

This remark was answered by the sound of raised voices. Curious, Courtney wrapped herself in a towel, turned off the shower, and went out to the living room. "Is somebody here?"

That somebody turned out to be a smoldering Maria. Excellent, Courtney thought, adopting what she hoped was a neutral expression as Maria hissed for several seconds before stalking off in a huff. Abashed, Rath turned to Courtney.

"I'm gonna go."

And just like that, her encounter with the King's Second was over. Left alone in her living room wearing nothing but a towel, Courtney sank onto the couch with a sigh as Rath's motorbike roared away. Well. That hadn't turned out the way she'd wanted. On the plus side, this little incident might stop the budding Maria/Rath romance from rekindling. Or it might drive them together, she admitted, although that was unlikely. Maria held a grudge better than anyone she'd met save for Nicholas, and that was saying something.

A knock came at the door. He's back! Courtney thought jubilantly, racing to answer it. Maybe he'd talked to Maria and then come back? Maybe he'd left just to throw her off? Just as the door swung open, it occurred to her that she hadn't heard a motorbike outside…

"Hi."

Courtney stared at her visitor in shock. It was Max Evans, and not the safe, suburban version she was accustomed to; he was still wearing the costume he'd had on in Liz's bedroom, all leather and long hair. "Max?" she said, abruptly aware that she was naked save for a towel. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," Max answered. "I told you I'd see you later."

"Guess you did," Courtney allowed. "Now's not a good time."

Max's eyes dropped as Courtney's hand clutched her towel tighter. "That's right," he said with a small smile. "You and Michael just...well...almost. Didn't you?"

"How did you know that?" Courtney demanded.

"Michael told me," Max shrugged.

"He just left!" Courtney exclaimed. "It's usually girls who spill that fast."

"You made quite an impression on him," Max said. "The two of you would have made a good pair. I would have approved."

"What does that mean?" Courtney said warily.

"We need to talk," Max said. "May I come in?"

"No, you may not," Courtney answered crossly. "I already told you this is a bad time."

"Let me in," Max insisted. "This isn't a discussion we should be having on the porch."

"What 'discussion'?" Courtney demanded. "I know I see you at the Crashdown, but I barely know you, and that certainly doesn't give you the right to—"

"I'm your king," Max announced. "Does that give me the right?"

Courtney gaped at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The eyes which fastened on hers did not belong to a teenager. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Courtney almost stopped breathing, one hand clutching her towel and the other the door as she braced herself to keep her knees from buckling. Jesus H. Christ, had it happened? Had it finally happened? "You remember," she said faintly. "When? When did you remember?"

"A while ago," Max answered.

"Define 'a while'," Courtney said, panic creeping in. "How long have you known? No—wait. You say you remember. Prove it. What do you remember?"

"I remember that you're the leader of the Argilian Resistance," Max said. "I remember you're wearing a husk which is at the end of its lifespan. I remember that you're my subject, so I don't need your permission to come inside."

Both hands clutched the towel now, a familiar physical object to hold on to as she stood face to face with the king she remembered, the one who insisted on having his way. "I'm not Covari," she said stiffly. "You can give me an order, but you can't make me obey it."

"I could force the point," Max noted.

"So why don't you?" Courtney said flatly.

Max gave her a level stare before looking away. "Because there's been too much of that. It's how we got into this mess in the first place. I just…" There came a lengthy, distinctly un-kingly pause. "I was just hoping you'd see the necessity of not having this conversation anywhere but somewhere private. So I'm asking you...may I please come in?"

"And what if I say no?" Courtney challenged.

"Don't," Max said. "Please. You know what's at stake. You know how many have died for what's at stake. Like your father."

They faced off, neither speaking, him with the hair and her with the towel. A car drove by, then a bicycle, then a kid on a skateboard. "Wait here," Courtney said finally. "I'm going to put some clothes on. If you're still here when I get back, I'll decide what to do with you then."

She closed the door without waiting for a reply, but didn't lock it. Retreating to her bedroom, she leaned against the door and discovered her hands were shaking...and to be honest, not just her hands. Zan remembered. He remembered. How? When? How long ago was "a while ago"? How long had she been slinging hash to a king who knew exactly who she was? Had the rest of them remembered too? Had she given herself away? Maybe he hadn't really remembered, but was testing her? But then where would he have gotten all those details? Dee knew those things, but there was no way she'd tell Max. Pulling on her clothes, she reached for her phone. A hybrid who remembered needed his Warder, and that Warder was just a phone call away.

A moment later, Courtney put the phone down. If they hadn't just quarreled, she would have called Brivari in an instant, but under the circumstances, perhaps that wasn't the best option. Brivari had charged her with treason, and even though Dee felt he'd never follow through with that, it wouldn't hurt to have the king in her back pocket just in case. Assuming that king was still out there, of course, and this wasn't all some big joke.

He was there, clearly irritated, but there. "So," Courtney said, "you didn't leave, and you didn't help yourself to my unlocked door. Points for that."

"You asked me to wait here," Max said.

"And you sounded like you didn't give a shit what I wanted," Courtney replied.

"I'm just...frustrated," Max said, sounding just that. "This hasn't been a good night, and I can pretty much guarantee it's going to get worse."

"And why exactly would I let you stick around and drag me into that?"

"Because if you don't, it'll get a whole lot worse," Max said. "You don't just have a dog in this fight, you have a whole pack. A pack otherwise known as the Argilian Resistance, currently holed up in—"

"Shhh!" Courtney hissed, eyes darting sideways. "Not out loud! Nicholas has spies everywhere!"

"I know," Max said gravely, "which is yet one more reason we shouldn't have this discussion on the porch. But since you won't let me in, I guess this is where we're having it. Not my first choice, but it seems to be yours."

Courtney stared at him a moment, undecided as to which was more disturbing—the fact that he seemed to know where the Resistance was bunkered, or that he hadn't flinched at the name "Nicholas". In the end, it didn't matter; she stepped back.

"Come in."

He stepped inside, and she closed the door. "Thank you," he said.

"Don't thank me yet," Courtney warned. "I may still decide to bounce you. Sit."

He did, perching on the edge of her couch while she brandished her Trithium Generator. "So you're not a shapeshifter," she announced when the telltale infrared signature which surrounded all Covari failed to appear. "There's that, at least. So how did you remember, Max? What unzipped the zip file? All the dead bodies recently?"

Max looked blank for a moment, then his eyes widened. "Oh, right! Nasedo just died, didn't he? And then Whitaker."

"Why do you sound like this is news?" Courtney said. "It just happened."

"I...forgot. We picked this time because it had implications for other reasons. I forgot what else had just happened."

"You're not making sense," Courtney announced.

Max hesitated. "Maybe you'd better sit down."

"No way," Courtney declared. "I'm still not sure exactly who I'm talking to or if I should trust you."

"Good," Max said soberly. "That's smart. And you're right—you don't know who you're talking to because I'm not who you think I am. I'm Max," he added hastily when she bristled, "and I was Zan. I'm just not the Max you know."

" 'Not the Max I know'," Courtney repeated, shaking her head. "Nope; still not making sense."

Max hands worked in front of him. "You saw me tonight, right? I remember you leaning out the window when I was singing to Liz."

"So I snooped," Courtney said. "So what?"

"So I'm not that Max. The Max you saw is my younger self."

"You know, the funny thing is, the more you say, the less sense you make," Courtney said impatiently. "Start making sense, or I'm going to stop listening."

Max fastened his eyes on her, those eyes that seemed to see right through her, that knew more than they should. "I really think you should sit down."






*********************************************************






Valenti Residence






"Okay, so Max will be at the Crashdown tomorrow night," Liz said, "and you'll be there too."

"At one of the outside tables," Tess said. "So he has to pass me on the way in."

"And you'll be reading a book," Liz went on. "John Steinbeck is one of his favorite authors, and we're reading Of Mice and Men for English lit, so bring that."

"How about one of Steinbeck's less well known books?" Tess suggested. "Like To a God Unknown? Or Travels with Charley?"

Liz's eyes widened. "You...know Steinbeck?"

"You do a lot of reading when you don't have a lot of friends," Tess shrugged. "Nasedo and I moved around a lot, but books were always there. I was just thinking that a book Max was less likely to have read would be more of a conversation starter."

"Yeah," Liz nodded. "Right. Absolutely. So I'll leave it to you to pick the book. Okay, next thing—what you'll be wearing."

"What I'll be wearing?" Tess said. "I think I can dress myself, Liz."

"No, there's...I mean, yes, I know you can dress yourself, but there's this top that you have that...that Max likes," Liz finished awkwardly.

Tess raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know this?"

Liz shifted uncomfortably. "He...he told me."

"Max told you he liked a top I was wearing," Tess said skeptically.

"He didn't tell me in words," Liz amended. "I could tell he liked it because he was...staring."

"I see," Tess said as Liz did some staring herself, at the floor. "And which top would this be?"

"Um...it's black?"

"I have lots of black tops."

"Then we'll just have to find it," Liz said. "Where's your room?"

"Well, there's some debate over whether it's my room, but...follow me."

Tess led Max's former girlfriend toward Kyle's room, a weird turn of events which was just perfect for this weird evening. First it had been Kyle going on about Max serenading Liz on her balcony, then she'd gotten pissed and resolved to create a back-up plan in case the Others never accepted her, then Kyle had objected to her redecorating his room, then she'd gotten even more pissed, which had made Kyle...well...horny. Not that he wasn't always horny, just visibly horny. And just as she had her face fixed for some serious making out, Liz had appeared claiming to want to help her win Max over, and part of that was a particular item of clothing. It was all a bit surreal.

"So this is it," Tess announced when they reached Kyle's former closet. "I'll find all the black stuff, and you tell me which one he liked."

"Yeah, okay," Liz said, standing stiffly as Tess began pulling things out.

"I still don't get why you're doing this," Tess remarked as Liz shook her head at the first offering.

"I told you; Max's future is you," Liz answered. "He won't see that, and I can't move on until he does."

"Right," Tess said doubtfully.

"Look, I don't have to justify myself to you," Liz said, an edge to her voice. "You were there in the pod chamber. You saw me leave, you saw that nobody chased me out. You saw it was my decision, and you've seen me stick to that decision ever since. If you can see all that and still doubt me, that's your problem."

Tess smiled faintly. She'd never admit it to God or man, but she'd just acquired a good deal more respect for Liz now that she'd fought back. "So nothing in the closet. Onto the drawers." She pulled open the top drawer and removed a stack of clothing.

"That one," Liz said suddenly. "That's the one."

Liz held up a black tee shirt with a "V" which went all the way down to there. "Ah," Tess said knowingly. "A cleavage shirt. Makes sense. So...I wear that, I take the book, and I try to get him to sit down with me."

"He'll do it," Liz said soberly.

"You know," Tess said slowly, fingering the shirt, "it occurs to me that walking away the way you did is something you do when you love someone."

Liz fastened hard eyes on her. "I never said I didn't love him." She handed the shirt to Tess. "Wear the shirt, bring the book, tell him Steinbeck's your favorite author—it'll work. I'll let myself out."

Dismissed, Tess thought dryly as Liz left. Still, she couldn't blame her; Liz obviously still had feelings for Max, and if she could get something useful out of that, all the better. If Liz said it would work, it probably would.

And if it didn't, it would still be wise to come up with a Plan B.






*********************************************************






Banks Residence






"You," Courtney said severely, "are certifiably crazy."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Max said.

"Fortunately, I'm not," Courtney went on, pacing back and forth in front of the couch on which Max was sitting calmly. "You're here from the future? Fourteen years in the future? Do you think I'm some kind of moron?"

"Not at all," Max answered. "You're one of the reasons I'm still alive."

"Oh, good," Courtney said sardonically. "Flattery will get you everywhere. So how'd you get here, future boy? In a DeLorean?"

"No. In a Granolith."

"Oh, of course!" Courtney said. "Because everyone knows the Granolith is a time machine!"

"It isn't supposed to be," Max allowed. "But we managed to modify it."

" 'We'? Who's we? Michael? Isabel?"

"Michael and Isabel are dead," Max said. "Tess left years ago, which is a different part of the problem. It was Serena, a friend of Liz's...or someone who will be her friend...who found a way to modify it."

"So where is it now?" Courtney said. "Did it crash in a field like your other ship? Are we going to hear about the latest sighting on the 6 o'clock news?"

"I had just enough time to get out before it burned up in the atmosphere," Max said. "Serena warned me that if it worked, the power required would basically destroy it. It was a one way trip, but it doesn't matter; at that point the entire planet was overrun, so things couldn't get worse."

"Overrun by whom?" Courtney demanded.

"Khivar," Max answered. "Sero. Hanar. Kathana. And Larak," he added wistfully. "My best friend. Unfortunately I didn't remember he was my best friend until it was too late."

"So you're saying the five planets united to take over Earth? That makes absolutely no sense," Courtney declared. "Ever since the coup, they haven't been able to agree on a grocery list, much less an invasion."

"I know," Max said. "But everything changed after your treaty was voted down."

Courtney breath caught in her throat. Of all the information he'd dropped so far, this was the most significant. " 'My' treaty?" she said warily. "It wasn't 'my' treaty."

"No," Max agreed. "It was Nasedo's and Whitaker's. But after they died, you took up the cause."

Yes, I did, Courtney thought, suddenly cold all over. That had only just happened...for her. "And...I'm guessing you're going to tell me what happened?"

"I already told you," Max said. "They voted it down. When that happened, all hope of peace was dashed, and when Khivar set his sights on Earth, they followed him because it turned his attention away from persecuting them."

"But why would they vote it down?" Courtney said. "It was reasonable. It was balanced. It was as fair as it was going to get." She paused. "Did you scuttle it? Did you refuse to consider the terms, or—"

"I didn't even know that treaty existed until the ships were in the sky," Max said. "I discovered most of this long after the fact, piece by piece over the years we were at war. A lot I got from Larak, who I met not far from here, in what was left of the Crashdown after Roswell was destroyed. He said he was sorry, but he had to do whatever saved the most lives. One dead Earth never stood a chance against five plundered planets."

"What else did Larak say?" Courtney asked, setting aside for a moment the incredible fact that she was actually buying into this outrageous story. "Because he's the one who took the treaty to the five planets in the first place, and he's plenty smart enough to figure out that he'd only bought himself a reprieve. Once Khivar was done trashing Earth, what's to stop him from turning around and trashing the five planets? Nothing, that's what! It's deal with him now, or deal with him later...what?" she demanded when Max smiled. "Did I say something funny?"

"No," Max allowed. "It's just that I've heard that speech before, pretty much verbatim. You see, I didn't go alone to the wreck of the Crashdown that day. You came with me, and you and Larak went round and round. You're quite intimidating when you get pissed."

Courtney sank onto the couch, stunned to have someone telling her what she'd done in...2014? "Wait a minute. I went with you to meet Larak? In 2014? I shouldn't even be alive in 2014. Did I get a new husk?"

Max hesitated. "Yes," he allowed finally, "but only you. The rest of the Resistance was kept alive in a special safe house. They helped us by jamming signals, cracking codes, and collecting and distributing intelligence, but they couldn't leave. You could go in, but they couldn't come out. Until Khivar found it, that is. He wiped them out. You were the only one left."

Courtney was speechless, her mind whirling. All the Resistance gone but her? And...Brivari. So he'd come through for her after all, for all of them, charges of treason aside. "Oh. Uh...okay. So...did my kickboxing with Larak tell you why the treaty was shot down? Because I thought that getting it looked at in the first place was the hard part, and once they saw it, it would just be details."

"It was a rather large detail," Max answered. "They worked out the final treaty, but...I rejected it."

Courtney blinked. "You? I thought you said you didn't know it existed until the ships were in the sky."

"I didn't," Max said soberly. "Someone rejected it on my behalf."

Courtney closed her eyes, suppressing a groan. Brivari. True to his word, he had rejected a treaty which didn't put everything back the way it was before. "And that's why I'm here," Max went on, his hands working in front of him. "It doesn't really matter what was in the treaty; the point was that as long as it was on the table, everyone was talking, not fighting, and united against Khivar because they had something to hope for. And because of that, Khivar was forced to deal with them, forced to watch himself so he didn't make everyone angrier. That treaty has to go forward." He paused. "I have to find him. That's why I came to you. I don't know where he was at this point in my life, but I know he'll be close. I'm betting you know where he is."

Courtney swallowed hard. "Who?"

"My Warder," Max said firmly. "I need to find my Warder." He leaned forward intently.

"Where is Brivari?"







********************************************************







All the houses were dark on the tree-lined street not far from the main drag as Zan walked along, his boots sounding hollow on the sidewalk. He must have walked past this street a million times, never knowing who lived here, never realizing that someone who could have answered all their questions was only a stone's throw away. He reached the house, an old, unassuming structure, and mounted the porch steps. It was better to be here, in a place he'd never been before. Seeing Liz so young, so innocent, had been hard, but it had also been hard seeing the places where he'd grown up still whole and healthy. He'd never been to this house, so it held no place in his memory, pulled no heart strings. Here he could be cold.

Five minutes later, after determined bell-ringing and pounding, the door was opened by a balding, middle-aged man in none-too-good of a mood. "What is it?" he snapped angrily. "Do you know what time it is? Do you—"

He stopped, staring at the apparition on his porch, finally processing who he was looking at despite the absence of a light. He didn't need one; Covari could see in the dark. "What the hell?" he breathed.

"Hello, Brivari," Zan said.

His Warder stumbled backwards, flabbergasted. "Stop," Zan commanded. "Open the door. Let me in."

There came a long moment where his Warder struggled against the genetic demands he'd just unleashed, his face a mask of fury. Zan was sorry about that, but there was nothing for it. There was too much to do and too little time in which to do it. He'd explained himself twice tonight, and it was exhausting, not to mention time-consuming. He simply didn't have the bandwidth for another go-round.

The door opened, slowly, reluctantly, but opened. "Thank you," Zan said, stepping inside. "Close and lock the door. Join me in the kitchen. I'm starving." He headed inside, not bothering to wait.

God, but it was so much easier when they had to do what you told them to.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'll post Chapter 50 on Sunday, May 22.

[keepsmiling7]

I've already read this 'over there".........but did a quick review here.
FMax........amazing thoughts of his, loved his side of things.
Thanks,
Carolyn

[Kathy W]

^^I think we're going to have fun with Future Max. Thanks for the feedback!




CHAPTER FIFTY





November 14, 2000, 11:30 p.m.

Parker Residence







"You're home late," Nancy remarked.

Liz Parker stopped at the foot of the stairs, her eyes toward the top, which she'd been desperately hoping to reach without encountering so much as a single member of any species. "Uh...yeah. I was...studying."

"With a friend?"

"Right," Liz said faintly. "With a friend."

"You don't usually do that," Nancy said. "Is there a test coming up?"

And how, Liz thought soberly. "Yeah. A big test."

"In November? It's too early for mid-terms, and way too early for finals," Nancy said.

"It's...one of those college practice tests," Liz lied.

"Ah," Nancy said knowingly. "I see. The ones where they tell you your entire future depends on how well you do."

"Definitely one of those," Liz agreed.

"Well, don't you believe a word of it," Nancy advised. "No one's future hinges on a single test no matter what they say. It's all hype." She kissed her on the forehead. "Get to bed, or you'll be too tired to take any kind of test. G'night, sweetheart."

Liz climbed the stairs, her legs like lead. No one's future hinges on a single test. Very true, that—try everyone's future hinged on a single test, the test she was now failing as she hung by a thread, only inches away from falling apart. She'd just spent the last hour counseling Max's former wife on how to get him back, which included rifling through said former wife's closet looking for the shirt with the down-to-there neckline which her former husband was convinced his younger self would notice. So Max had been eyeballing that shirt? While he'd been tossing up paper airplanes and roses, he'd also been checking out Tess's assets? As if it wasn't bad enough to have what she wanted most dropped in her lap and ripped away within the space of a few hours, even the image of Max singing in the street was now marred by that shirt. She should have been able to have that, if nothing else.

Her hand was on the doorknob before she remembered that her room wasn't her room any more. He was probably there, wanting a report as he ripped her dreams to shreds and added more details about their horrible future, made possible courtesy of yours truly. Because no matter what he said about the world falling apart due to the way he'd treated Tess, the fact remained that he'd treated Tess that way because he'd loved her. It was still her fault, even if it wasn't. She really wasn't in the mood for this, but lacking anywhere else to go, she opened the door.

He wasn't there. She checked the bedroom, the bathroom, the balcony, then sank down on the bed and let out a long, slow breath. She was alone. For the first time tonight, she had the luxury of time to process the current incredible thing she found herself in the middle of. Process? Liz thought bitterly. She didn't want to "process" anything. She wanted to curse. She wanted to scream. She wanted to…

A moment later, the mug was flying. It hit the opposite wall with a satisfying thunk, splintered in two, and fell to the floor, a worthy metaphor for her frustration and current predicament. She was fractured just like that mug, half of her believing Future Max's incredible tale, half of her not, half of her wanting to rectify the horrible outcome of their love, the other half not giving a damn. So far, the first half was winning. So far.

"Glad I'm not that mug," a voice remarked.

The voice was close and female, but it still took Liz a heart-stopping several seconds to locate its owner. "Maria? What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," Maria said.

"On the floor? You're practically behind the curtain."

"I'm hiding from your Mom," Maria said. "She came in with your laundry. I do my own laundry. Must be nice."

Liz glanced at the pile of neatly folded laundry on the bed, which hadn't even registered. "Yeah," she agreed. "Yeah, it is."

"So am I to assume you're having a shitty night too?" Maria said, hauling herself off the floor and plopping on the bed beside her. "Madame Vivian was a bust for me, but what's your problem? 'He chooses love. He chooses you. You will not be left wanting'."

Liz raised an eyebrow. "You were eavesdropping?"

"No, we were eavesdropping," Maria said. "Alex was told he'd never get laid, and I was told I had 48 hours, tops. Naturally we wanted to know what you heard, and all those gauzy drapes don't exactly make good sound dampeners."

"Alex was told that he and Isabel wouldn't...get together," Liz corrected, "not that he'd never get together with anyone. And what happened with you? It's nowhere near 48 hours."

"Turns out that was optimistic," Maria sighed, producing a photograph with Michael's face circled. "This is what I found in Courtney's locker, after Michael said he was suspicious of her and I decided to do a little investigating."

"No way," Liz said faintly.

"Way. And when I went to confront her with the incriminating evidence...well, I don't want to talk about it. Of course Space Boy claims it was all just a misunderstanding, but I'm not buying that."

"Well, maybe it was," Liz said.

"It wasn't," Maria declared.

"But what if it was?"

"It wasn't! And I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"You're the one who's talking about it," Liz shrugged.

"No, I'm not! I'm just...look, can't you just take my word for it?" Maria said in exasperation. "This is the part where you say, 'That's horrible, Maria! How could he?' "

"That's horrible, Maria, how could he?" Liz intoned.

"A little feeling, please?" Maria demanded.

"That's kinda hard when I don't even know what he did," Liz said. "I just think you should give him a chance to explain."

"Well, thank you very much, Dear Abbey," Maria said tartly. "So what's got you hurling crockery? Your true love was serenading you from the street tonight. How does it get better than that?"

Liz had no sooner opened her mouth to answer when she felt the weight of the future crashing down on her all over again. She couldn't say anything. She couldn't talk to anyone about this, not Maria, not Alex, and certainly not Max. The only one she could talk to was Future Max, who wasn't likely to be sympathetic to her point of view. This officially sucked.

"Maria," Liz said suddenly, "what if you were to find out that loving Michael meant something bad would happen?"

"Something bad just did," Maria said darkly.

"No, I mean really bad," Liz said. "Really, really bad."

"So we're playing the 'what if?' game," Maria said. "Don't worry," she added, holding up a hand before Liz could answer. "I get it. I see where you're going with this. I see way more than you think I do."

"I...you do?" Liz said, startled. Had Maria already seen Future Max? Maybe the cat was out of the bag, and she did have someone to talk to, which would be perfectly all right with her…

"Of course I do," Maria said, taking her hand. "I know you. You were worried Max would choose Tess over you, but now that you know he doesn't, you're worried that's not the right thing for him, that something bad will happen because of it."

"And what if something does?" Liz said.

"There's no way to know that," Maria answered. "We can't know the future. All we can do is follow our hearts in the here and now, and what happens, happens."

Liz faced her, taking both hands. "But what if we could know? What if there was a way to know that loving them, Max or Michael, would have really bad consequences?"

"Like what?" Maria said. "We give birth to something with six eyes?"

"Like their planet invades ours," Liz said soberly.

"Invades?" Maria chuckled. "Someone's been watching too much late-night TV—"

"Pay attention," Liz said sternly. "What if you could know for sure that their planet invades ours because they fell in love with a human? What if loving them brings down two planets? Is it still worth it? Do we have the right to be that selfish? Do they? Do any of us?"

Maria stared at her for a moment in silence. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious," Liz whispered.

Maria nodded slowly. "Okay. Well...no, I don't think we have the right to do something we know will ruin two planets. But I also don't think we have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"We love them, Liz," Maria said softly. "It's not something we can turn on and off like a light switch. We love them. We just do. We can't stop, even if we try."

"But we can decide not to act on it," Liz argued. "We can walk away. We can think of someone besides ourselves, and walk away."

Maria shook her head sadly. "Maybe you can," she said, slipping an arm around Liz. "Me...I guess I'm just not that noble."

And there's the problem, Liz thought miserably. Neither am I.






*********************************************************






Proctor Residence







"Is it ready?" Dee called as the opening strains of The Tonight Show sounded. "The show is starting."

"Coming," Anthony answered, emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. "Salt, no butter."

"And here's your tea," Dee said, handing him a mug.

"Tea and popcorn," Anthony mused. "That's a combination I bet we didn't see coming when we grew up."

"You know we can't drink soda this late at night or we'll gas up like balloons," Dee reminded him.

For the next several minutes, there was no sound in their living room except the crunch of popcorn and laughter, both theirs and that of the studio audience listening to Jay Leno's monologue. It was silly, really, how much pleasure she took from this little ritual, but she loved this part of the day. Sometimes they splurged on cookies, and sometimes they watched a movie or a TV show instead of Jay, but they always came together for snacking and stories at the end of the day. Most of the various crises and problems which had arisen throughout their lives had not done so at this hour, so this was pretty much sacrosanct. It was said that simple things amused the simple-minded, but sometimes it was handy to be simple-minded. One stood a much greater chance of being happy when one was easily amused.

Dee's cellphone rang. "Wrong number?" she asked hopefully when Anthony checked the display.

"Nope. Diane."

"Diane? At this hour? Ignore it. She'll think we've gone to bed."

But the phone rang twice more in the next minute. "Hello, Diane," Anthony said when they hit a commercial. "Can Dee call you back? She's...what? Who?" Ads blared from the television as he listened for moment in silence. "Okay. Okay, I'll...I'll get her. Hold...hold on."

Anthony hit the mute button as Dee rolled her eyes. "She's really worked up," he reported.

"What's new?" Dee sighed. "And what is it this time?"

"Jeff Parker called her. Something about Max singing in the street?"

"That's a new one," Dee admitted, taking the phone. "Diane? What's up?"

A torrent of frustration followed, an unlikely tale of girlfriend's fathers, lovesick sons, and Mariachi bands. "Pop a tape in, would you?" Dee whispered to Anthony when Leno came back on. "At least I can watch it later."

"That bad?" Anthony murmured.

"Worse. I'm sorry, Diane, but I don't see the problem," Dee announced when she could get a word in edgewise.

"What do you mean, you don't see the problem?" Diane huffed. "Jeff called me! At this hour! That's a problem!"

"I get that he's worried about it being a school night, but that's all I get," Dee said. "Most parents of kids this age are worried about them boinking in the back seat. You've got one serenading a girl, and you're carrying on like he got her pregnant."

"Honestly, you're as bad as Philip!" Diane admonished. "He said the same thing."

"Actually, I think it's Philip who's as bad as me, but whatever. Max's methods may have the grown-ups cringing, but most teenaged girls would kill for romantic gestures like that. Perhaps he could do his courting at earlier hours? Or only on weekends?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Diane complained. "Max has been doing things like this for the past two weeks. I think Jeff is creeped out about it."

"More popcorn?" Anthony whispered.

"You've eaten it already?" Dee said in astonishment.

"You're talking," Anthony reminded her. "Not eating."

"Mom, are you listening?" Diane said petulantly.

"Yes, more popcorn," Dee told Anthony, "and yes I'm here, Diane, and of course Jeff is creeped out. All fathers are creeped out when their daughters attract boys. Which isn't fair, when you think about it, because mothers aren't similarly creeped out when their sons attract girls."

"Well, thank you for that fascinating bit of social commentary," Diane said tartly.

"You're welcome. Tell Jeff that at least Max is doing his courting in public where he can watch. Most kids don't. He should count his blessings."

"Somehow I don't think that's what he wanted to hear from me," Diane said sourly.

"No, of course not. What he wanted to hear was that you'd truss up your son and never let him near his daughter again, but that's not how it works."

The doorbell rang. "Good gracious, is this a bus station?" Dee muttered. Anthony was in the kitchen, so she answered the door, opening it just as Diane launched into another stream of worry.

"Hang up," ordered a very tense-looking Courtney as she pushed past her into the living room.

Dee gaped at her a moment before recovering. "Uh...tell Max to record his love songs and send her the tape," she advised. "We'll have to continue this later. I'll call you tomorrow." She rung off with Diane still talking and turned to her latest unwelcome visitor. "May I assume this is about Max?"

"Of course it's about...wait," Courtney said. "You know? How do you know? Did he come here?"

"No, but he didn't have to," Dee said, resuming her seat on the couch. "He's got a mother who worries when he burps."

"That explains it," Courtney said. "She was bound to notice a few things. It was kinda hard to miss."

"So I gather. Come sit down," Dee said. "Why are you pacing? Don't tell me you're all wound up about this too."

" 'All wound up'?" Courtney said in astonishment. "Of course I'm 'all wound up'! You mean you're not?"

"Of course not," Dee said, praying for patience as she double-checked the VCR to make certain it was recording the show she was missing. "We have years before this could be a problem."

"Yeah, fourteen to be precise," Courtney said impatiently. "How could you not see this as a problem?"

"I just think we're jumping the gun," Dee said. "When the time comes, they may no longer be a couple. I know you have strong feelings about this since the treaty, but I really don't think a single serenade is going to bring the planet down."

""It may all be part of...wait," Courtney said suddenly. "What do you think we're talking about?"

"The same thing Diane and I were just talking about," Dee said, "Max singing to Liz in the street. Jeff Parker called her because he's less than pleased with Max's public courting methods."

"Yeah, he would be, and yeah, that was cringe-worthy, but that's not what I'm talking about," Courtney said.

"Then what are you all upset about?" Dee demanded. "If it's got you this worked up, it must be something big. Has Brivari been bugging you?"

"Not Brivari," Courtney said.

"Is Nicholas here?"

"That I could handle."

"Well, what then?" Dee said in exasperation. "Did Vanessa come back from the dead? Did Larak kiss you off? Did—"

"Worse," Courtney declared. "Way worse."

"Then spit it out!" Dee exclaimed. "Or let me watch my show in peace!"

"Shows? There won't be any shows to watch unless we fix this!" Courtney retorted. "No shows, no stupid Mariachi bands, no civilization as we know it!"

"So now you're predicting the end of the world?" Dee said.

"Not me," Courtney said. "Zan."

"Oh, now it's Max predicting the end of the world. Then why was he just out serenading Liz? A bit odd for someone who thinks the world is ending, don't you think?"

"Not our Zan, the other…" Courtney stopped, sank into a chair, and looped her hands around her knees. "I don't believe this. This night was going so well. I got Rath to come home with me, and we...we almost… And then Maria shows up, Rath leaves, I'm standing there wearing nothing but a towel, and Zan shows up. And then…"

"And then?" Dee prompted.

"And then it got complicated," Courtney said. "You're going to find this hard to believe. I know I did."

"Harder than usual?" Dee chuckled.

"A lot harder," Courtney whispered.

Dee felt a flicker of unease as Courtney rocked back and forth in a semi-fetal position. That had been meant as a joke—so much of what they'd been through was hard to believe. If Courtney truly felt this was worse...well, what could be that much worse?

The kitchen door swung open. "Popcorn!" Anthony announced. "Oh...hello, Courtney. Have some popcorn?"

"I think you should start at the beginning," Dee advised, "and don't leave anything out."

"I think she should have some popcorn and some tea," Anthony countered. "Looks like she needs it."

"You know, that's a great idea," Courtney announced, plopping herself down between them. "And turn up the TV. Leno is hilarious."

"What about the end of the world?" Dee said.

"It can wait," Courtney said, digging into the bowl. "No butter?"

"Dee hates butter," Anthony noted.

"My hands get all greasy. Shouldn't we at least warn Brivari that you're making apocalyptic predictions?" Dee said.

Courtney checked her watch. "I'm guessing he already knows."






**********************************************************






Langley Residence







Over the years, Brivari's fondest wish had been that his Ward would regain his memories. Ostensibly that involved Zan becoming himself again, followed by a triumphant return home and his reinstallation on the throne, but that wasn't the whole story. The part between, the messy bit between remembering and actually going home, was a dark, hazy space his imagination had dared not touch. The business of coming face to face again, with the inevitable recriminations for the part each of them had played in the fall of Antar and the crimes Zan and his father had committed against Covari, plus the question of how they would treat each other in this new life, of how Zan would use the incredible power he possessed in his new incarnation, all cast a pall over the usually happy process of wishing. Best to keep one's wishes cheerful and dwell only on the good bits, especially since fulfillment of those wishes would be a long time coming, assuming it ever came at all.

Except now it had. Flabbergasted, Brivari walked slowly into the kitchen where his Ward was raiding the fridge. That it was his Ward was not in doubt; the pull of his genetic programming was unmistakable. No one else could have forced him to allow entry, to step aside when he didn't want to, to walk into the kitchen even though every part of him was screaming don't! His feet moved of their own accord. There was no stopping them.

"So this is where you were hiding," Zan said, piling bread, lunch meat, cheese, and milk on the kitchen table. "Figured you must have been close. Got any Tabasco?"

Brivari hesitated for so long that Zan, busy assembling sandwiches, finally looked up.

"No."

"Oh, that's right—you can't taste, and now I can taste too much. We were always a study in contrasts, you and I." Zan slapped the top piece of bread on a sandwich, sank into a chair, and took a bite. "What?" he said through a mouthful when Brivari just stared at him. "I'm starving; I haven't had anything to eat in a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" Brivari said. "Did your mom forget to go grocery shopping?"

Zan looked blank for a moment, then gestured to a chair. "Something like that. Have a seat. We'll talk in a minute."

It was not an order. Brivari sank into the indicated chair anyway and studied the man across from him, currently wolfing his food as though he had indeed not eaten for days. For "man" was an accurate term; this was no boy, the neat, suburban teenager having been replaced by the larger, more mature frame of a human male in his late twenties or early thirties with questionable hygiene. The long hair and dirty clothes were mere icing on the cake, but the physique was troubling. He was hardly a stranger to changing one's appearance, but why would Zan bother? Emergent hybrids were noted for exhibiting a certain level of confusion, but Zan's emergence had been complicated, occurring before he had fully matured. Regaining his memories may have completed that maturity, so perhaps the typical confusion was occurring now? Was he trying to make himself look older because he knew he should be older?

"What happened to you?" Brivari said.

"Long story," Zan said with his mouth full.

"I'm listening."

"I'm eating."

"And I'm waiting. I've been waiting for 50 years."

"Then another few minutes won't kill you," Zan said.

"Forgive me if I object to waiting one minute longer than I have to," Brivari persisted. "I'm not even sure who you are."

Zan fixed him with a steady stare. "Yes, you are."

Startled, Brivari looked into a pair of eyes which were simultaneously cold and world weary. Outward appearance was changeable, but that didn't change what was inside, and what was inside this one was born of experience. Is this what memory did to you? Did suddenly remembering the loss of your throne, your wife, your very life, confer enough weight to produce the hard pair of eyes which looked at him now?

"No, I'm not," Brivari answered. "My king never issued an order I couldn't refuse. At least not to me."

Zan held his gaze for a moment longer before dropping his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's just that I've been over it twice tonight, and it's so hard...no one believes me. Understandably, but still…"

Brivari blinked, unsure as to what was more surprising—the speed with which the apology had been issued, or the fact that an apology had been issued at all. Apparently Zan was the only one who had remembered. But all the hybrids knew the basics, so why wouldn't they believe him?

"So...are you Zan?"

Zan grabbed the mustard bottle, opened his second sandwich, and coated the contents. "No. I'm Max."

"You don't remember? But you knew my name."

Zan paused, his hunger at least partially sated as the second sandwich sat on his plate. "I remember...pieces. Fragments. I know I used to be Zan. I know you and I didn't always see eye to eye. It's like...like watching one of those home movies of yourself as a child. You know it's you, but you don't recall the details."

"So if you know you were Zan, then you are Zan," Brivari said. "You must be."

"No," Zan said firmly. "Now I'm Max Evans. I'm different because a lot has happened since then. I do remember parts of it, but that doesn't make me him. Just like you remember being a child, but that doesn't mean you are one now."

"What about when you were an adult?" Brivari said. "Do you remember how you—"

"No," Zan said quickly, before he had a chance to finish that sentence. "No, I don't."

Brivari frowned as he tucked into his second sandwich. "You don't remember the last thing that happened to you? I would think that would be the first thing to come back, your very last memory."

"Serena thought just the opposite," Zan said. "She said I didn't remember because it didn't really have time to take hold."

"Serena? Who's Serena?"

Zan looked startled, as though he'd said something he shouldn't. "A friend."

"I know all your friends," Brivari said. "I know each and every human who knows who and what you are, and not one of them is named 'Serena'."

"It doesn't matter," Zan said.

Not again, Brivari thought wearily. Zan may not remember, but this was well trod ground, with his Ward saying something wasn't important when his Warder knew otherwise. "Of course it matters," Brivari protested. "I wouldn't bother pressing the point if it didn't matter."

"We'll talk when I'm done eating," Zan insisted.

"We'll talk now," Brivari said flatly. "You referenced people who 'didn't believe you', and now you're discussing your murder with someone I don't know. Who else have you been blabbing to?"

Zan's eyes flashed. "I'll talk to whomever I like."

"I think you remember more than you're giving yourself credit for," Brivari retorted. "You're acting just like you used to."

"And you're not?" Zan demanded. "This is just like you, latching on to some little detail and refusing to let go of it."

"I'm your Warder!" Brivari exclaimed. "I have to know these things because it's my job to keep you safe!"

"Then how did I wind up dead?" Zan snapped.

Ward and Warder stared each other down as the question—or rather, accusation—reverberated like a thunderclap. "Impressive," Brivari said furiously. "That didn't take long. But if you think you're going to lay the blame for your fall at my feet, think again. The line of people responsible for that stretches around the goddamned galaxy—"

"I'm talking about the treaty," Zan interrupted. "Why didn't you back it?"

"What treaty?" Brivari demanded. "You think you lost your throne over a treaty?"

"What treaty?" Zan said angrily. "You know perfectly well what treaty! The treaty Nasedo died for! The treaty you refused to support! The treaty that let everyone see past Khivar! That treaty!"

Brivari gaped at him, stunned. "That's no memory," he said sharply. "That's recent. Someone told you that. Who told you that? Someone told you where to find me, so that someone must have also told you about the treaty," he went on, anger rising in him like a wave. "How dare they? What kind of idiot drops that kind of information on the equivalent of a toddler? Was it your grandmother? Did she do this?"

"My grandmother?" Zan said, looking genuinely puzzled. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Courtney, then," Brivari said bitterly. "Trying to get a pardon, trying to literally save her own skin. Just wait until I get my hands on—"

"No need," Zan interrupted. "You told me."

"I told you?" Brivari repeated in astonishment. "I think I'd remember that conversation."

"Not if we haven't had it yet," Zan said.

A prickle of fear crept up Brivari's spine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Zan tossed his balled up napkin on the table, having managed to finish his snack mid-argument. "Aren't you just a tiny bit curious, Brivari? Here you are, refusing to see the forest because you're all wrapped up in the trees. You must have noticed that I've changed from the last time you saw me. I'm older, bigger, smarter—"

"That remains to be seen," Brivari muttered.

"—and you haven't wondered why? I'll tell you why—I'm not the Max Evans you know. I'm from the future."

"The 'future'," Brivari repeated.

"Yes. Fourteen years in the future, to be exact."

Good Lord, Brivari thought heavily. Confusion was common when hybrids regained their memories, but this…this wasn't confusion, it was delusion. "I saw you earlier today," he said, working hard to keep the irritation out of his tone, "and you were...as I know you. So obviously your memories returned in just the last few hours, and when that happens, there can be a period of confusion, when you don't know exactly who you are and where you are—"

"I'm not confused," Zan broke in. "I know who I am and where I am...and where I came from. I came from 2014, when Earth is overrun by a joint army from the five planets."

"A 'joint' army?" Brivari said incredulously. "Now I know you're confused. The five planets couldn't manage a gang toidy, never mind a gang war."

"Not now," Zan agreed. "But that will change, and we're both to blame for that."

"But—"

"No 'buts'," Zan said firmly. "Michael's dead. Isabel's dead. My parents are dead, my grandparents are dead. We're losing, Brivari. Losing. I came back to fix that. You're part of the way I fix that." He paused as Brivari stared at him in disbelief. "I don't expect you to just believe me. Why would you? It's an incredible story. So this is what's going to happen. I'm going to wait here while you find my younger self. I've already lived this, so I know exactly where I'll be—in my room, on the computer, hunting for tickets to a concert. Go to my house, and you'll see that I'm telling the truth."

"What good will that do?" Brivari said. "You can alter your appearance. If you really expect me to believe there are two of you, I need to see you together."

"No, you don't," Zan said. "Someone told me there's a way for you to tell if there's two of us. They said to remind you of that."

Brivari went cold. There was a way to tell, but the list of people who knew how was so short, it didn't even qualify as a list. "Who?" he demanded. "Who told you that?"

Zan paused before leaning forward, his eyes boring into his Warder. "You did. Right before you died."




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




I'll post Chapter 51 on Sunday, June 12.

[keepsmiling7]

Future Max is 100% correct as to what Max would be doing.
LOL......Maria and Liz talking about giving birth to something with six eyes......
Great part,
Carolyn

[Misha]

What?! Whaaaat??!? NOOOOO!!!!!!

I actually waited a few chapters to accumulate, and now I'm at the end... again... NOOOOO!!!!

My goodness I didn't realize there was a very good possibility that we would get to hear FutureMax!! And he's FASCINATING!!! I love the fact that Max never became Zan -which disturbs me- and I found it both hilarious and sad that he didn't get to know Dee was a secret secret keeper Maybe he'll get to know that now

I also love the fact that it wasn't just Tess leaving what propelled the events of the world ending. It does bring the question of where did Tess go after leaving Roswell that she wouldn't come back to fight... alas, that's a discussion for another thread

The way you went with Liz's line in TEOTW "Max keeps coming to my window and telling me he wants to be with me again" It's heartbreaking but aawwwwwwnnnn that is so MAX!

I so want to know moooooooore!!!!!!

Misha.

PS: isn't it weird that we're still writing about them after the world ended back in 2014?

[Kathy W]

Hello to everyone reading!

LOL......Maria and Liz talking about giving birth to something with six eyes......

Leave it to Maria to find the humor in pretty much anything.

I love the fact that Max never became Zan -which disturbs me- and I found it both hilarious and sad that he didn't get to know Dee was a secret secret keeper Maybe he'll get to know that now

Maybe he didn't live long enough to truly become Zan. And have you been rummaging in my files again?

I also love the fact that it wasn't just Tess leaving what propelled the events of the world ending. It does bring the question of where did Tess go after leaving Roswell that she wouldn't come back to fight... alas, that's a discussion for another thread

It always struck me as odd that the preservation of the planet hinged on one person being in one place. Contributed, maybe, but hinged? I went with contributed. And I always assumed Tess would have come back to fight, but died enroute, or in the first assault, or was captured by the enemy, or...went over to the other side. I could easily see that happening.

The way you went with Liz's line in TEOTW "Max keeps coming to my window and telling me he wants to be with me again" It's heartbreaking but aawwwwwwnnnn that is so MAX!

When you're tossing things up, why stop at roses?








CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE




November 14, 2000, 11:55 p.m.

Evans Residence





Max glanced at his watch as he flew out of the jeep and up the front steps: 11:55 p.m. He was not only home on time, he was home with five minutes to spare. Chalk it up as one more thing which had gone right on this wonderful day. Any time he proclaimed his love for Liz was a wonderful day, or afternoon, or evening, but tonight had been special. Watching her on her balcony as he sang to her, he was convinced the ice was melting. His determination to make it clear how much he loved her, to refuse to back down, was paying off. At first awkward and uncertain about his overtures, tonight she'd actually smiled, and when she had, the sun had come out even though it was nighttime. It just didn't get any better than this.

"Jeff Parker called," his mother announced when he stepped inside the house.

Okay, maybe a little better, Max amended. He hadn't counted on Liz's father showing up mid-song, but it was hard to be upset with him. After all, it was a school night, and he had been coming to her window over and over these past couple of weeks. Besides, if he ever had a daughter who was anything like Liz, he'd lock her up and throw away the key. One had to feel for Mr. Parker.

"You're up late," Max said.

"Don't change the subject," Diane said crossly. "Did you hear what I said?"

"You said Mr. Parker called," Max answered. "What did he want?"

"I think you know what he wanted," Diane said. "He wants you to stop serenading his daughter on school nights. Or sending dozens of paper airplanes up to her balcony, or any of the other stunts you've pulled."

" 'Stunts'?" Max said. "I...thought it was romantic."

Diane's expression softened. "Oh, honey, it is romantic, but don't you think you're overdoing it just a bit? I mean, a Mariachi band? Really?"

Max shrugged. "It got her attention."

"I'm sure it did," Diane said wearily, "along with her father's. Could you cut it back to every other week and only on weekends?"

"But I don't love Liz every other week and only on weekends," Max said. "I love her every minute of every day."

His mother made a sound which sounded suspiciously like a snort of frustration, then stared at him in dismay. "Oh, God, you...you're serious, aren't you? Oh, Max, I'm sorry, I...I just forgot how intense young love could be. And if I've forgotten, it's a good bet Jeff Parker's forgotten too."

"That's sad," Max said. "I don't ever want to forget what this feels like."

Now thoroughly melted, Diane held a hand to his cheek. "I hope you don't, sweetheart. But some people do, and from their perspective, what you're doing looks...alarming. Could you tone it down, at least for a little while? Or at least save your romantic gestures for times when only Liz will see them?"

"I'll work on it," Max promised.

"Thank you," Diane said. "Oh, and Max? Try to be home earlier next time."

"I was on time," Max said reproachfully. "It wasn't midnight when I came in."

"No, it was four minutes till."

"Five," Max corrected.

"My watch said four," Diane noted.

"The kitchen clock says five, and what difference does it make? Both are before midnight. You said you wanted me home by midnight, and I was home by midnight. If you wanted me home earlier, you should have said so."

"Oh, good grief," Diane sighed. "You're the son of one lawyer and the grandson of another. Just try not to cut it so close next time, okay?" She stretched up to kiss him on the cheek without waiting for an answer. " 'Night, sweetheart."

" 'Night, Mom," Max said, privately wondering which part of him made him fuss over details like that, the my-father-and-grandmother-are-lawyers part or the I-was-a-king part. Probably both, he decided as he headed down the hallway to his room, wondering how he was going to replace his visits to Liz's balcony now that the pattern had been set. It was just so convenient to come to her there, close, but not too close, and so...poetic. So perfect. So Romeo and Juliet. Perhaps he could keep the location the same, but change the time. Perhaps Papa Parker would be mollified by afternoon serenades or early morning paper airplanes. Heck, he might not even notice at those hours, and so much the better.

"Well, look who's back," Isabel said, appearing only moments after he'd entered his bedroom. "The Frito Bandito, in the flesh."

"Very funny," Max said.

"Is it absolutely necessary that you make a total fool out of yourself in public?" Isabel asked, flopping on his bed.

"Yes," Max answered. "It is."

"Okay, then, is it absolutely necessary that you make a fool out of yourself with a song that includes the magnificent lyrics, 'Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay'?"

"Someone was listening carefully," Max smiled.

"No, Max, I didn't need to listen carefully," Isabel said tartly. "I didn't need to listen at all because, you see, lots of people saw you, and lots of people heard you, and lots of people called me wondering what I thought of my brother's antics."

" 'Lots'? Define 'lots'."

"Too many," Isabel said sourly.

"Numbers, please," Max insisted.

"Okay, three. But that was three too many!" Isabel exclaimed as Max shook his head. "If you're determined to make a fool out of yourself, can you at least not make a fool out of me?"

"This has nothing to do with you," Max said, "or your nosy friends. This is about me and Liz."

" 'Nosy'?" Isabel said skeptically. "Not sure if 'nosy' is the right word when you're singing in the street, but whatever. And if it's all about you and Liz, then keep it between you and Liz, not you, Liz, and the rest of Roswell."

"I don't care who hears me," Max said.

"Yeah, I noticed," Isabel sighed.

"I love Liz," Max declared, "and I don't care if the whole planet hears me, this one or any other. That's what the song was about. If anyone who was so busy listening had bothered to look it up, they'd see that it says things like, 'In your eyes, I lost myself'—"

"Stop!" Isabel commanded. "I do not want the details of your drippy love song! I just want you to find some other, more private way of slobbering over Liz Parker."

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" Isabel said in exasperation. "Teddy bears? Candy? Love notes in her locker? Make out at the movies, like, you know, way in the back corner where you won't make anyone hurl? Take her to a concert, where it's so loud that you can proclaim your love for her without bothering anyone else? Just anything where I don't have to listen, or watch, or hear about other people listening and watching—"

"A concert," Max broke in. "A concert! Gomez is this weekend, isn't it?"

"So what? It's way too late to get tickets," Isabel said.

"No, no, there's this new website where people sell tickets they can't use," Max said, pulling out his keyboard. "It's called 'StubHub'. Alex was talking about it."

Isabel climbed off the bed and joined him at the computer. " 'Stub Hub'? Sounds fishy."

"Here it is," Max said, typing "Gomez" into the search box. "Look, someone's selling their tickets!"

"Looks fishy," Isabel commented.

"I could always go back to serenading," Max noted. "Maybe something in French this time? Everyone says it's the language of love."

"Looks great!" Isabel exclaimed. "I'm sure it's totally legit! Go for it!"

"I need $150 by tomorrow afternoon," Max said. "That'll be tight."

"I can lend you some money," Isabel said.

Max smiled faintly. "You'd do that for me?"

"To keep you from singing in public? You bet," Isabel said. "Heck, I'd—"

The rest of that sentence was cut off by the sound of breaking glass. "What was that?" Isabel said, going to the bedroom window and peering outside.

"Maybe someone's putting garbage out and broke a bottle," Max shrugged.

"It's not garbage night," Isabel said. "And...Max," she went on, her voice strained. "It looks like someone's got a baseball bat, and they're smashing headlights."

"No one does that in this neighborhood," Max said, his eyes still on the screen.

"I'm telling you, that's what I'm seeing, and...Max, he's heading for the jeep!"

The tickets forgotten, Max went to the window. At first he didn't see anything, but a moment later he spied a dark figure holding something long and slender approaching the driveway. Across the street, shards of glass glittered in the streetlight behind a neighbor's car.

"What are you doing?" Isabel demanded when he opened the window. "You're not going out there, are you?"

"I'm not going to stand here while someone hurts my jeep," Max protested. "Hey! Hey, you! What are you doing?"

The figure stopped, stared at him...then walked determinedly toward the jeep. "Max, don't," Isabel ordered. "You can knock him over from here. Just do something to scare him, and he'll go away."

Max sent a wave of power toward the rapidly advancing figure, knocking it to the ground, but it rose undeterred and resumed it's advance on the jeep, raising the bat as it neared. "No!" he shouted. "Stop!"

Whoever it was paused, the bat suspended in the air...then the bat came down, crashing the back tail light. "Stop!" Max roared, vaulting out of the window with his sister scrambling after him.

Crash! went the jeep's other tail light. "Hey!" Max thundered, racing after the rapidly departing figure. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Come back here!"

"Seriously?" Isabel said, panting up behind him. "You expect him to come back and give himself up? Forget it, Max. He's gone."

Max came to a stop at the base of the driveway before coming back to inspect the jeep. "Oh, man!" he groaned, the broken glass littering the driveway. "Who does this? Why would someone do this?"

"Max?" a voice called. "Isabel? Are you all right?"

"Here comes the cavalry," Isabel murmured as their parents joined them, bathrobed and bewildered as they stepped gingerly across the damp lawn.

"What's all the shouting?" Philip asked, stopping short when he saw the jeep. "Oh...oh, my."

"What happened?" Diane exclaimed. "Who did this?"

"Some guy with a bat," Max said, "who neglected to show his I.D."

"Vandals," Philip said in disgust. "We usually don't get those here, but I suppose there's a first time for everything. All right, everyone—back inside. We'll call the sheriff in the morning."

"The morning?" Diane said in astonishment. "Why not call him now? This is a crime, Philip! And what are you two doing out here? Why would you go after someone with a baseball bat? You could have been killed!"

"But they weren't," Philip said soothingly. "And I'm not going to bother the sheriff over some petty vandal at this hour, which will keep us all up for hours. I'll call first thing in the morning. Insurance will cover it. Let's go in."

Max and Isabel followed their bickering parents into the house. "Why isn't this bothering me the way it's bothering Mom?" Isabel whispered.

"Because we know there's worse out there than vandals," Max said. "Now, about that $150 for those tickets…"






*********************************************************






Town and Country Grocery,

Roswell







His face obscured by the hooded jacket he wore, Zan paused at the edge of the parking lot, the Town and Country in the distance a twinkling jewel in the night, brightly lit and bustling with shoppers even at this late hour who had no idea what fate had in store for them, no idea that their civilized world would go up in smoke only a few years from now. Brivari's food supply left something to be desired for those who could taste, so he'd gone in search of better eats, or at least that's what he'd told himself as he'd walked the streets of a town he knew as a blast site. To be honest, he wanted to see the place again, to see it as it lived in his memory, the place where he'd grown up, fallen in love with his high school sweetheart, and made friends who had protected him until they no longer could. It was strange to walk these clean, orderly streets again, to see a sheriff's deputy he dimly remembered chastising a kid for being out so late on a school night, hardly a concern where he came from. It was a marvel to see so many people unhurried and unafraid, driving their cars, walking the streets, eating in restaurants. There were no restaurants in his world, or cars, or grocery stores, not in Roswell, not anywhere. Khivar had commandeered the food supply, and gasoline was a distant memory, as were all the things he'd taken for granted when he'd lived here, like never being hungry, civic order…and safety. It was funny how he'd always felt unsafe here as a kid. Compared to where he'd just come from, he'd never been more safe than when he'd lived here under the watchful eyes of Liz, their friends and the sheriff. It really was all in the perspective.

But nostalgia only went so far, and he'd headed to Walmart only to remember that in the year 2000, it wasn't yet a supercenter—no groceries. So he'd hoofed it here, to the Town and Country at the edge of town, only to hesitate at the edge of the parking lot. What if someone recognized him? Liz had. He'd scarfed a hoodie from a school kid's backpack, feeling only slightly guilty—after all, if he was successful, maybe that kid would get to live—and pulled it partway across his face. Hopefully no one would take him for a two-bit thug and call the sheriff because he really, really didn't want to explain things to Valenti tonight.

Carts rattled past as he approached the glass doors, and then…swoosh! He froze for an instant, having not remembered the automatic doors; electricity was hard to come by in his world, and certainly not used like this. Once inside, the lights seemed way too bright, the colors too vivid, and the smells...oh my God, was that a bakery? Hanging a right, he sped through the store easily, noting that most of the people here this late were either teenagers or young adults; parents, teachers, and senior citizens were probably tucked safely in bed. He'd blend in well with this crowd, and he eagerly followed that wonderful smell to what he would have used to consider a rather barren display of picked over, day-old, slightly stale donuts and bread. Now, however, it looked like a palace banquet, and he almost stuffed a donut in his mouth before he remembered to use the tissue paper to fill a box. Manners didn't count for much where he came from. Manners could get you killed. Cart, Zan thought spying more wonders ahead. The glory didn't stop with donuts.

Twenty minutes later, he pushed a cart laden with delicacies those in 2014 could only image. Ground beef to make hamburgers, ketchup and mustard to put on them, frozen french fries to serve with them. Fresh produce like lettuce, onions, apples, and bananas. Milk, orange juice, and coffee. All the boxed stuff his mother used to save time like Hamburger Helper, instant potatoes, gravy in a jar. Snacks—he'd clean forgotten what potato chips tasted like, or Cherry Coke—candy, and peanut butter and jelly, that staple of American kitchens. And…Tabasco, Zan thought wistfully, grabbing three large bottles. Hadn't had that in ages either. Dietary quirks didn't mean much when you didn't have much to eat to begin with. Rounding a corner with his bulging cart, he came to an abrupt halt.

" 'Scuse me," a voice mumbled behind him.

"Oh...sorry," Zan said, a lump in his throat as he pulled over to let the people behind him pass. He had reached the pet food aisle, crammed with food, toys, and other sundries for dogs, cats, birds, and small critters like gerbils and hamsters. His family had never had pets, but he and Liz had adopted a cat shortly after they'd married. It had made a perfect low maintenance pet for a university couple, which is what they'd been at the time. It had also made a perfect dinner years later when they were starving. Food shortages had meant that most pets of any size had wound up on dinner plates right along with the pet food meant for those pets, and they'd wanted their beloved cat to feed them, not someone else who grabbed her. Gone were the days when you could afford to feed another creature out of mere companionship, and he passed a hand over a bag of Friskies, recalling how much his cat had loved it. He'd eaten the rest of their stores after the cat was gone, but Liz wouldn't touch it.

"You got enough?" the man in a passing couple said. "I've only got a twenty."

Money, Zan thought, something else which had gone the way of the dodo; after governments collapsed, everyone was back to bartering. A quick trip to the office supplies produced a notepad which he easily turned into a wad of cash. Ten minutes later, with his groceries all bagged, he counted out bills for the cashier.

"Thanks," the cashier said, flipping levers in his tray to put the bills away, only to stop and stare at them.

"Something wrong?" Zan asked.

The cashier blinked, held the bills further away. "Maybe I'm going crazy, but I think...does that say '2014'? It's only 2000."

Oops. "Let me see," Zan said, taking the stack back. "Nope; it says '1994'. This one is '1972'. And this one—"

"Okay, so I am crazy," the cashier said, shaking his head. "Have a good one, man."

"You too," Zan said, trundling his cart out to the parking lot before realizing that he had no way to get all this stuff back to Brivari's house. Time to improvise. Again.







*********************************************************






Proctor Residence







"Say something," Courtney commanded.

Across from her, Dee and Anthony merely looked at her, their expressions blank. "Say something!" Courtney exclaimed. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Okay, well...that's certainly...different," Anthony allowed.

"Courtney, have you been drinking?" Dee said bluntly. "Or doing drugs?"

Courtney looked back and forth from one to the other in disbelief. "You think I'm crazy. That's it, isn't it? You think I'm crazy!"

"You must admit it's a crazy story," Dee said. "First it was luring Michael to your house, then trying to lure him into your bed, and now this. I'm completely justified in asking what you're smoking."

"I'm telling you, it happened!" Courtney exclaimed. "There was 'our' Max in that lame ass hat singing to Liz and tossing up roses—"

"That part's true," Anthony whispered to Dee.

"—and then there was this biker goth Max in Liz's room just a few minutes later, all muscles and long hair. He looked totally different!"

"And then that Max came to your house and said he was from...the future?" Anthony ventured.

"Yes!" Courtney said in exasperation. "And I didn't believe it at first either."

"Then you know how we feel," Dee noted.

Courtney sighed heavily and flopped back on the couch. The TV was dark, Jay Leno having ended and the popcorn consumed before she'd told her incredible story, which had been met with blank stares and silence. "Okay," she said, throwing up her hands. "Okay, I give up. I've told you; that's all I can do. Good night."

Before she could stand up, the front door flew open and a very agitated Brivari blew into the room. "Have you seen him?" he demanded.

Everyone looked at everyone else. "Y-yes," Courtney stammered, frozen to the couch.

Brivari came closer, a wild look in his eyes. "And did you tell him about the treaty?"

"No," Courtney said firmly. "He brought that up. I didn't say much of anything. I was too busy being flabbergasted."

"Wait," Dee commanded. "Brivari, are you saying you saw this...person? You saw this other version of Max?"

"You mean it's real?" Anthony said when Brivari nodded.

"Oh, him you believe," Courtney said sourly. "Thanks loads."

"At first, I thought he'd just remembered," Brivari said, walking rapidly back and forth like he wasn't physically capable of slowing down, much the way she had when that Other Max had been telling his incredible story. "I thought his memory had finally kicked in, and this was the latest version of the breakdown they had the last time that happened."

"How do we know that's not what's happening?" Dee asked.

"Because I went to the other one, our Zan," Brivari said, "and he was still here."

"You 'went' to him," Dee said. "So you didn't see the two of them together? How else can you tell if there are really two? It could be Max."

"It wasn't," Brivari insisted. "There are two."

"So you really think it's him?" Courtney said. "I wasn't sure."

"Then why did you tell him where to find me?" Brivari demanded.

"Because whatever it was that happened, something obviously had," Courtney said. "He knew things, things 'Max' doesn't know. He knew about you—he asked me where to find you."

"And you told him," Brivari said in disgust. "He forced his way into my house! He ordered me to let him in, and I had to!"

"I'm not responsible for the concessions you made when you served his father," Courtney retorted. "You agreed to the Royal Mark. You agreed to the power it gave the bearer over every Covari. And besides, the King wanted his Warder. Are you saying I should have denied him that?"

"Back up," Dee commanded. "This…'other' Max gave you an order? But I thought there couldn't be two people who had that 'mark'. I thought it transferred, or something like that."

"If the King were to die, it would transfer," Brivari agreed. "But this...I can safely say this is a circumstance the makers of the mark never considered."

"Yes, well, there do seem to be a plethora of those," Dee said dryly. "This is just the latest in a long line of 'things they never thought of'. But no one's dead here. How can there be two?"

"And if there are two, how you be sure which is which?" Courtney said.

"There was a fail-safe built in," Brivari said, "in case someone found a way to copy it. Not many knew about it: Me, Zan, probably Valeris. Certainly not Jaddo. When this new Zan told me that he knew I had a way to tell if there were actually two of him here, I thought maybe he'd remembered, but he said I told him about it...right before I died."

The room grew very quiet. Courtney held her peace, reasonably certain this was not the best time to mention that she had apparently survived in that alternate reality, while the rest of the Resistance—and the King's Warder—had not. "In any case," Brivari went on, "if there is a copy, the older mark would take precedence over the newer one. It has a...a time stamp, if you will."

"And this Zan from the future is older," Courtney said, "meaning his mark takes precedence."

"I had to test it," Brivari said. "So I went to Zan's house to see if I had to obey an order he gave me."

"How did you get him to give you an order?" Dee said.

"I smashed his jeep with a bat."

"You vandalized his car?" Dee said in astonishment.

"What's at stake here is a bit more important than a car," Brivari said crossly. "His resulting commands to stop were all I needed. They didn't take. He couldn't command me."

"Holy shit, it really is him," Courtney breathed.

"But...what does that mean?" Dee asked, bewildered.

"It means that 14 years from now, it all goes to hell," Courtney said faintly.

Brivari nodded heavily. "And 14 years from now, we're all dead."

There was another long pause before Dee stood up. "Let me talk to him. I'm his grandmother. I'll be able to weigh in on whether or not it's actually Max."

"I already told you it's him," Brivari said.

"I want to see for myself," Dee said stoutly.

"That's not a good idea," Brivari said.

"Why not?" Dee demanded.

"Yeah, why not?" Courtney added. "He must know his grandmother's in on the deal by 2014."

"He might even be glad to see her again," Anthony added.

"I mentioned you when I was asking who told him where to find me," Brivari said. "He looked genuinely bewildered as to why I had, and asked me what you had to do with any of it."

"Do you mean to to tell me that 14 years from now, I still haven't told my grandkids the truth?" Dee said in astonishment.

"Well...13, anyway," Courtney said.

"Yes, thank you, I can do the math," Dee said tartly. "And that doesn't make it better."

"Of course it doesn't," Courtney agreed quickly.

"No one else should go near him until we figure out exactly what he's after," Brivari insisted.

"I think we're a little late for that," Courtney remarked. "We're not the first people he visited."

"What does that mean?" Brivari demanded. "Who else has he talked to?"






**********************************************************







November 15, 2000, 1 a.m.

Langley Residence






The hamburgers sizzled in the pan, and Zan's mouth watered so much, he was afraid he would drool. When had he last had fresh meat? Spoiled meat? Any meat? Too long ago, that's when, and the four fat burgers he'd made from a pound of ground beef would put only a dent in that deficit. The sound of grease sizzling was such music to his ears that he almost missed the sound of a Covari sidling up behind him.

"Did you find him?" Zan asked. "Or rather, did you find me?"

Brivari looked startled. "You heard me?"

Zan touched an ear. "Hybrid hearing. I was merely Antarian before. But if it's any consolation, you're still awfully quiet."

"It isn't," Brivari said. "What's all this?"

"That's what you said the last time," Zan noted. "And this is dinner."

"You already had dinner."

"No, I had a snack. There are no hamburgers where I come from. I went shopping."

"So I see," Brivari said, eyeing the bulging bags on the table and countertop. "And not just food shopping. There's a car in my driveway that's not mine."

"I needed a way to get all this home," Zan said. "I'll put it back."

"So you stole a car," Brivari said, his voice laced with a disapproval which was oh-so-familiar even though he didn't precisely remember it. "The King of Antar is a car thief."

"No, the King of Antar wants a hamburger," Zan said. "I said I'll put it back."

"That makes me feel so much better," Brivari deadpanned.

"Good," Zan said. "It should. Because when the owner gets it back, it will not only not be harmed, I'll fix that muffler that's falling off."

"And that makes it okay?"

"Would you knock it off with the preaching?" Zan said crossly. "I said I'll put it back."

"Theft for a hamburger," Brivari mused. "Seems a fair trade."

"It's not just a hamburger," Zan retorted. "It's freedom, and safety, and Fourth of July picnics, and...and lots of things I've lost. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Brivari said sharply. "I lost everything for you! I've been here for fifty years for you! I've—"

"Have you been starving?" Zan broke in. "Have you been sleeping in bombed out buildings? Have you been fighting every single day for the past year?"

"Do you really want to have this conversation?" Brivari demanded. "Are you really prepared to play topper with me? Me? Okay, fine, Mr. I've-Had-It-Worse-Than-You-Ever-Will," he went on as Zan eyed him stonily. "Just tell me this—if things are so bad in the future that you've gone on a pilgrimage to the past to mend the error of your ways, why the hell was your first stop Liz Parker?"




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




I will be busy for the next few weeks (my dance school's year is coming to an end), so I will be back with Chapter 52 on Sunday, July 3.

[keepsmiling7]

How embarrassing, now the Evan know about Max's serenade.
He doesn't care because he freely admits his love for Liz. Wouldn't we all love someone like that?
"Frito Bandito".........only Isabel would do that to her brother.
That was a strange visit from Zan.....
And their grandmother was in on the 2014 deal.
Wow, I have lots of questions,
Carolyn

[Kathy W]

Hello to everyone reading!










CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO





November 15, 2000, 12:45 a.m.

Langley Residence






Grease spattered from the pan on the stove as Zan stared at Brivari in consternation. The feeling's mutual, Brivari thought grimly. Ever since Courtney told him that the first place she'd seen this version of Zan was in Liz Parker's bedroom, he'd been absolutely beside himself. So that's who he'd been talking about when he'd said that "no one believed him"; he'd been blabbing to the Parker girl. Some things never changed.

"I don't believe it," Zan said incredulously. "That's your first question? I've come all the way back from 2014, all the way back from a bombed out Earth, and the first question you ask me, the very first question, is about Liz. Seriously?"

"Look at it another way," Brivari said coldly. "You claim to have come all the way back from 2014, spouting lofty speeches about saving the planet, and the first thing you do, the very first thing, is visit Liz Parker. Seriously?"

"So what?" Zan demanded.

"So you stood in this kitchen and claimed that the world was falling apart because of me, because I didn't support that damned treaty!" Brivari exclaimed. "Forgive me if I find it galling that the first thing you do is blab to your high school girlfriend! I thought you were supposed to be 'older and smarter'. 'Older and smarter' my ass."

"She's not my girlfriend," Zan said flatly. "She's my wife."

Brivari stared at him, dumbfounded. "You...you married her?"

"Yes. I mean, I will. Two years from now. Or maybe not," Zan amended. "Actually, I won't. If I succeed."

"Gibberish," Brivari declared. "Talk sense. Start with Ava. What did your wife think of your choice of wife?"

"Tess wasn't my wife," Zan said impatiently.

"She sure as hell used to be," Brivari declared.

"I remember," Zan said crossly. "I mean, I don't actually remember, I just...I remember some of it. I remember knowing her, but...I don't feel that way about her. Not this time." He paused. "But I do remember how you felt about her. You didn't think she was good enough for me."

"She was common," Brivari said. "You were the heir to a throne, to a dynasty. You deserved better, but you married her anyway. And now history has repeated itself."

"In more ways than one," Zan said darkly. "You don't like anyone I marry, no matter where, no matter when."

"You still haven't told me what happened to Ava," Brivari retorted. "You said Rath and Vilandra were dead. Is Ava dead too?"

Zan was quiet for a moment, flipping his hamburgers in a silence which stretched long enough to become awkward. "I don't know," he said finally. "She left."

" 'Left'? Left where?"

"I don't know," Zan said in frustration. "She just...left. We were never able to find her, so I don't know what happened to her or why she left."

"I do," Brivari said. "She left because of Liz Parker."

"No, she left because of me," Zan said impatiently. "She left because of the way I treated her."

"Is that the line you used on the Parker girl?" Brivari demanded. "That she wasn't to blame, that it was all you? Did she buy it? Because that's the biggest load of garbage I've heard in a long time."

"Don't blame this on Liz," Zan protested. "She's the reason I'm here."

"You think?" Brivari snorted.

"No, I mean she and her friend Serena were the ones who figured out how to send me back. Liz insisted I come back."

"Yes, well, since the planet was burning, I think that falls under the heading of 'hindsight is always twenty-twenty'," Brivari said sarcastically. "Talk about a Monday morning quarterback. At least one of you figured out that you'd screwed up."

"It wasn't Liz's fault," Zan insisted.

"Like hell it wasn't!" Brivari snapped. "Whatever happened to her stepping aside so you could follow your destiny? That's where she is now, and I admired her for it. What the hell happened?"

"I happened," Zan said. "I wouldn't give up. I loved her, and despite what she claimed, she loved me."

"I thought this was just a youthful infatuation," Brivari said. "I thought you'd grow out of it. I should have known better."

"If it's any consolation, I paid for it," Zan said. "Without Tess, we weren't as strong as we should have been. We functioned better as a unit, and when the ships came, we tried to find her, but we couldn't. For all I know, she was killed in the first wave."

"Doubtful," Brivari said. "Ava has shown remarkable resilience in this lifetime; I'm willing to bet she would have outlived you all. More likely she just wasn't interested in helping you, and why should she be if you drove her off by marrying another?"

"Maybe that wouldn't have happened if I'd understood better what was at stake," Zan retorted. "I had no idea there was a treaty on the table, no idea what kind of hijinks were going on behind my back. Where were you, Brivari? We only ever saw Nasedo, yet you were here all along. Why were you hiding?"

"You really need to ask me that after what you did?" Brivari said in astonishment. "You forced your way into my house!"

"I told you I was sorry!" Zan said hotly. "I was tired, and frustrated, and—"

"Who gives a shit?" Brivari shouted. "You're missing the point! You never used that prerogative on me back home! It was supposed to be an emergency measure, and you understood that, or so I thought, but here...here you can command me, and believe me, you will. You just did, and you've done it before. You got him killed!"

Zan blinked. "Wait...I got who killed?"

"When you had your meeting at the Crashdown about what to do about Pierce's bones," Brivari said. "You told Nasedo, 'We're not killing anyone. That's an order.' "

Zan paled. "I...I did?"

"Yes, you did," Brivari said grimly. "And shortly afterward he was fighting for his life, but he couldn't kill his assailant. His king had given him an order."

Zan's features had turned positively white. "But...I was talking about killing someone to get Michael out of jail, not killing someone who was trying to kill you. That's entirely different."

"You didn't specify," Brivari said furiously. "It was a blanket announcement. I didn't think it would be a problem because he certainly could wound someone, but then I didn't think he'd be in the situation in which he found himself only a day later. By the time he faced his killer, he was in such a state that he might not have had the energy to deal with nuances like 'wounding'."

"I didn't know!" Zan said desperately. "I had no idea what I was saying could do to him! And...and whose fault is that?" he went on, shock turning to anger. "How was I supposed to know that unless you told me?"

"It wouldn't do much good if I did," Brivari retorted. "If I tell you, the you who's here now, you'll abuse the privilege; if I don't, things like this happen. This is why I stayed away, why I'm staying away, why I'll continue to stay away. Introduce us now, and I'll be dead long before 2014."

Zan sank slowly into a chair. "I killed him? I killed him," he said faintly. "I killed Jaddo—wait. Why did I call him that?"

"Because that's his name," Brivari said. "I'm going to bed. Help yourself to a bedroom upstairs. We'll sort this out in the morning, assuming I live that long. By the way, your hamburger's burning."

Zan's head swung toward the stove where his dinner was charring rapidly. "Oh," he said dully. "I'm not hungry any more."






********************************************************






6 p.m.

Crashdown Cafe







Settled at a table outside the Crashdown, Tess looked at her watch for the third time and went over her mental checklist for the fourth. Book? Check. Hair tumbling over shoulders? Check. Push-up bra? Check. Black shirt with plunging neckline? Check. Actually the top wasn't doing its best job of showcasing her assets, and she subtly shifted her bra to widen the neckline even more. Every little bit helped.

"Hoik'em up any more, and they'll be pointing at the ceiling," a bored voice noted. "Not a good look. You gonna order anything, or are you just gonna sit here?"

Okay, maybe not so subtle, Tess thought as the perennially grumpy Agnes loomed over her...again. "Thanks for the advice," she said with a perfectly straight face, reasonably certain that Agnes did little in the way of "hoiking". "I told you, I'm—"

"Waiting for someone," Agnes finished with a sniff, her eyes on Tess's cleavage. "What exactly are you planning to do with this 'someone'?"

"Why?" Tess said. "Are you jealous?"

"Of what?" Agnes demanded.

"Well, the way you're looking at my breasts, I just wondered if you were a closet lesbian," Tess said blandly.

Agnes blinked, her pencil poised over her pad. "I'll have a Cherry Coke," Tess said sweetly. "And…" she leaned forward and lowered her voice "...your secret is safe with me."

Agnes blinked again before retreating without another word, Tess smiling at her consternation. She'd been in a good mood all day, and nothing was going to change that, not even Agnes. Odd as it had been to have been visited by Max's girlfriend, or rather, ex-girlfriend, it had made her heart sing to hear that he liked this top; so he had been looking at her after all. Good to know. Skeptical as she'd been about Liz's motives, she'd made her peace with it. She'd spent the day watching Liz, and Liz was definitely not in a good place. She looked tense, haunted, even, going out of her way to avoid Max whether by averting her eyes or hurrying away at lunch. Something was eating that girl; maybe she'd been pushed over the edge by Max's recent overtures. Whatever the reason for her discomfort, if the outcome was that she was willing to help return her husband, Tess was okay with that. Maybe she'd been too hasty in her pursuit of a "plan B". Maybe she just hadn't been patient enough. Maybe…

A chair scraped across from her, and Tess's heart leaped, only to have it fall when she saw who it was. "Hey Tess. Was that Agnes I saw walking away like a storm cloud?"

"Alex," Tess said, hoping her disappointment wasn't evident in her voice. "I was just yanking Agnes's chain."

"Great fun, and so easy," Alex nodded. "Like taking candy from a baby."

"I know," Tess agreed. "So what brings you here?"

"I've just finished tutoring a freshman in French," Alex said. "I need some American food, stat."

"You tutor French? I didn't know you liked it so much."

"I don't," Alex admitted, "but it turns out I'm good at it."

"At French? I thought you were into computers?"

"Oh, I am," Alex said. "But a computer language is just another language, so it turns out I'm good at languages period. And the money's good, so there's that. Buys a lot of RAM! That's 'Random Access Memory'...computer stuff," he finished when she looked blank. "It buys computer stuff."

Agnes reappeared, gave Alex a long look, set a Cherry Coke on the table, and retreated. "Good grief," Tess giggled. "She didn't even take your order!"

"What was that all about?" Alex said.

"I told her I was waiting for someone, but I don't think she believed me," Tess said. "And then I...well, that's when I yanked…"

Tess stopped, her eyes over Alex's shoulder. He's here! she thought, her heart skipping a beat. She'd been afraid he wasn't coming.

"Ah," Alex said softly, having turned around. "So that's who you're waiting for. Not judging," he added quickly when her eyes snapped back to his. "Just leaving. I'm leaving. Good luck."

He slipped away, unseen by Max, who was still a ways down the street. Tucking her hair more firmly behind one ear, Tess buried her nose in To a God Unknown, a less well known offering from Steinbeck and one that she was finding it hard to get into. Of course, that could be because she was preoccupied…

"Tess?"

Tess looked up. "Oh. Hi, Max!"

"I'm here to meet Liz," Max said. "Have you seen her?"

"No, but she might be inside," Tess answered. "I've been lost in this book…" She turned it so he could see the cover, and his eyes lit up.

"You like Steinbeck?"

"I love Steinbeck," Tess said. "He's one of my favorites."

"Really?" Max smiled, sliding into the seat recently vacated by Alex. "I don't hear that from too many people."

"Steinbeck is all about human behavior," Tess said. "Nasedo wasn't exactly the best source of information about that."

"No, I imagine he wasn't, Max agreed. "I haven't read that one. Do you like it?"

"To be honest, I'm finding it hard to get into," Tess admitted. "It's a bit of downer."

"A lot of Steinbeck's are," Max agreed.

"And it doesn't help that I...read the last page," Tess finished in a whisper.

Max broke into a wide, absolutely endearing grin. "You do that too?"

"Every time I read a book," Tess confessed. "Usually it doesn't make any sense until I get close to the end, but this time, I'm afraid I ran into a spoiler."

"That happened to me once, too," Max said. "Didn't stop me from reading the last page, though."

"Me neither," Tess smiled.

"That is so cool that you like to read," Max said. "People look at you weird when you say you like to read."

"You mean teenagers?" Tess said. "I didn't spend a lot of time around classmates. Nasedo was always afraid I would give myself way, and reading was something safe to do. I was alone a lot, and books helped."

Max's eyes dropped. "You were alone here too."

Tess shrugged. "Yeah...well…"

She let that sentence hang unfinished as Max looked increasingly uncomfortable. "I know we haven't been very welcoming," Max said. "I'm sorry about that." He paused, waiting for a response that didn't come. "Listen, I...I realize none of this is your fault," Max went on. "You just sought me out because it was your destiny."

"Hey, I...I can only imagine if you thought you'd found the love of your life, and someone comes to tell you that you're meant to be with someone else," Tess said.

"Exactly," Max agreed.

"You know if things change, they change," Tess went on. "If they don't, it's okay, Max."

"I don't think things will change," Max said softly.

"I know," Tess said, "but...it takes two, and if Liz isn't interested…" She stopped, afraid she'd gone too far.

One look at Max told her she had gone too far. "What do you mean, 'if Liz isn't interested'?" he said suspiciously.

"No, I...I didn't mean—"

"You were talking to Liz about this?" Max demanded.

"Not exactly," Tess said uncomfortably.

Max's head swung around, scanning the street. And just then the blinds in Whitaker's office flicked, then danced as someone abruptly let go of them when they realized they were being watched. Max got up without another word and jogged across the street, disappearing into Whitaker's office and out of sight. Shit, Tess thought disconsolately. Why had she said that? Why had she even mentioned Liz's name? Things had been going so well! Shit, shit, shit!

"Ouch," a voice said behind her.

It was Alex, sporting a tall glass of something or other. "You saw that," Tess said glumly.

"I admit, I was peeping," Alex said, sliding into the chair Max had just vacated.

"You're Liz's friend," Tess said. "You must think I'm awful."

"No," Alex said, "no, I don't. Liz has made if pretty clear that she thinks she and Max are over, and…"

"And what?"

"Well...you may know how I feel about Isabel," Alex said.

"Alex, everyone knows how you feel about Isabel," Tess assured him.

Alex flushed. "Yeah..well...let's just say that if I knew Isabel used to be my wife, I'd move heaven and Earth to get her back."

Tess smiled faintly. "Thanks."

"No problem. Well, I'm off," Alex said. "This time I'm tutoring in Spanish."

"You know Spanish too?"

" 'Know' Spanish? Not exactly," Alex chuckled. "I know just enough to be dangerous, and more than enough to tutor. Doesn't mean I 'know' it."

"Like you said, a language is a language," Tess said. "And it pays the bills. All that 'ram', or whatever."

"Right," Alex said. "See ya. And...good luck."

Alex loped off just as Max emerged from Whitaker's office. He looked at her briefly, dropped his eyes, then hurried away down the other side of the street. He knows, Tess thought sadly. Max knew it had been a set-up. Why the hell had Liz been watching? Couldn't she have settled for a report later on this evening? It looked like she'd be needing that "plan B" after all, although her efforts so far had been somewhat less than successful…

Tess's gaze strayed down the street, where Alex's lanky frame was still visible in the distance. Every inquiry she'd made to experts in lost languages had ended in failure or cold feet, but maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Maybe she didn't need an expert in lost languages. Maybe someone who was merely good with languages would be good enough for what she needed.






*********************************************************






"Here's your Pluto Pasta," Courtney said, handing a dish to a salivating customer, "your Saturn Salad, and your Tachyon Tea. Anything else?"

"Yeah," the guy answered, all heavy black glasses and bad teeth. "Can you make it so I'm really eating this on Saturn and Pluto?"

"I'm good, but I'm not that good," Courtney answered. "Plus it's tough to be on two planets at once—I should know. Enjoy."

Nerds, Courtney thought affectionately. God knows Roswell was full of them and officially hated them, but she thought they'd gotten a bad rap. Alien-loving nerds struck her as friendlier to real aliens than anyone else. She'd take a nerd over a Pierce any day, and gladly.

Mr. Parker appeared. "Courtney, have you seen Maria? Whoa," he went on before she could answer, looking over her shoulder. "Is that...is that Max?"

Shit! Courtney whipped around, barely breathing. "Uh...yeah," she said, trying not to collapse with relief when she spied Zan's younger self at a table outside. "Looks like."

"He's sitting with that new girl, Tess," Mr. Parker noted hopefully.

"Well, they're classmates," Courtney said. "I wouldn't read too much into it. Especially what you're reading into it right now."

Mr. Parker shook his head. "A father can dream, right?"

"About locking up his daughter and throwing away the key?" Courtney said. "I'd keep that as just a dream, or she may never speak to you again. And Maria's in the back. She's doing her best to avoid me because she's mad at me."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because we both like Michael Guerin," Courtney answered.

Mr. Parker grimaced. "Boys. Again. I'll stay out of it."

"Good plan," Courtney agreed. "Although I should note that, at some point in the past, you were a boy."

"Don't remind me," Mr. Parker muttered. "Let's just leave the past in the past, shall we?"

Love to, Courtney thought, but she didn't have that luxury, not when a future version of the King of Antar was here in Roswell telling tales of doom. She had not laid eyes on him since last night, a fact she'd reported to Dee each and every time Dee had called today to find out if he'd reappeared. She hadn't seen Brivari either, but that was just as well given how pissed he'd been when she'd told him she'd found Future Zan in Liz Parker's bedroom. She'd spent the day walking on eggs, which is why she'd clutched at Mr. Parker's surprise, but really, she was being silly; Future Zan knew better than to just plop down outside the Crashdown in full view of this younger world. The odds were good she'd never see him again anyway because now that she'd pointed him toward his Warder, what did he need her for? It sounded like he didn't need her to change anything, so hopefully she could watch this weird little drama from a distance and be done with it. After taking a couple more orders, she headed for the back in search of more napkins.

"Slut," Maria said under her breath as they passed each other.

"Takes one to know one," Courtney answered.

Maria whipped around. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"I think it was pretty self-explanatory," Courtney remarked.

"I am not a slut!" Maria hissed.

"We both want something and we're both going after it," Courtney said. "If that's what you call a 'slut', that applies to you too."

"I'm not going after another woman's man," Maria protested.

"Neither am I," Courtney said. "Michael's not married."

"Yet," Maria countered.

"I'm glad you agree he's fair game," Courtney said. "May the best woman win."

Feeling just the tiniest bit sorry for Maria, Courtney left her smoldering and went in search of her napkins. To say that things were frostier than usual after last night's shower interruptus was something of an understatement, but it was hard to care given the stakes, which had just risen exponentially. Now the specter of their world falling apart was no longer just a specter; this world, at least, had fallen apart, and it didn't take a rocket scientist of any species to figure out that Antar would be next. The conquest of Earth would have been just a stalling tactic, a way for Khivar to get his ducks, or rather, troops, in a row before he dealt the killing blow. A lovelorn human girlfriend didn't hold a candle to that.

The back door opened, and a tear-stained Liz Parker slipped inside. "Liz?" Courtney said. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, I...I was just…" Liz stopped, looking utterly forlorn.

"Hoping to get upstairs before anyone saw you?" Courtney suggested. "Go ahead. I never saw a thing."

"Thank you," Liz whispered.

Courtney shook her head as Liz literally fled. Poor kid; Future Zan had obviously done a number on her. Which meant he wanted her to do something to change the future, and she idly wondered what that was as she walked into the storeroom and snapped on the light.

"Holy shit, don't do that to me!" Courtney exclaimed, hastily locking the door behind her. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry," Future Zan said, perched atop a box at the very back of the storeroom. "Guess I needed to see a friendly face, and I couldn't exactly get a table. Though I'd love to," he added wistfully. "These were some of the best times of my life."

"So I take it the great Warder reunion was a bust?" Courtney said. "Just FYI, lurking in storerooms is a bad idea. What if someone sees you?"

"I was careful," Zan said. "You know, it's weird remembering how often we saw you, and yet we never knew. I remember asking Liz on the morning of Isabel's birthday party why you seemed to know so much about us when you didn't know us. But you knew everything about us."

" 'Everything'?" Courtney said. "Hardly. Aren't you supposed to be out saving the future, or something? Anything? Anything that would let me get back to work without having to worry about explaining some biker version of Max Evans to Mr. Parker, who was so very happy to see the younger you sitting with Ava?"

Zan winced. "Yeah, so was I. It was all going so well. Until it wasn't."

"Meaning?" Courtney asked warily.

"Meaning that we got him to sit down with her," Max said, "and then he—I—figured it out. And now we're worse off than ever because he's more determined than before, and believe me, I was pretty determined before."

" 'He figured it out…' Wait. Are you saying you deliberately tried to get Ava and…'you' together? Is that why you went to Liz? But why?" Courtney said when Zan nodded. "How did it happen in your world?"

"In my world, Tess left Roswell not long after Liz and I got married," Zan said.

Married? Oh," Courtney said quietly. "I see. But...what difference does it make? You said this was about Brivari not backing the treaty."

"It was...is...whatever," Zan amended. "But I don't know exactly when things went south. Maybe it's fixable, or maybe the damage has already been done. Maybe I can convince Brivari to change his mind, or maybe I can't. But if that future happens anyway, we have to be prepared for the invasion to follow, which means Tess needs to be in Roswell."

"She's one person," Courtney said. "What difference can one person make?"

"A lot, it turns out." Zan was quiet for a moment. "When the ships first arrived, Larak found me. He told me he'd convinced the leaders of our sister planets to assassinate Khivar here, while he was more vulnerable."

"That's freaking brilliant!" Courtney exclaimed. "He'd only have a fraction of his usual troops, and there'd be way more of us than him. But...that didn't happen," she went on when she saw the look on Zan's face. "It should have happened. Why didn't it happen?"

"There was a catch," Zan said. "Before they would join us against Khivar, the leaders wanted to meet the Royal Four. But we weren't the Royal Four; we were the Royal Three, and the king was married to a human."

"So the hell what?" Courtney exclaimed. "Did they really think life would be better under Khivar? Did they really think they had a choice? They had a golden opportunity! Why didn't they take it?"

"They got cold feet," Zan said. "Khivar had made them lots of promises. Larak couldn't change their minds."

"Seriously?" Courtney said incredulously. "That's because they…" She stopped, realizing her voice was rising. "That's because they were out of their minds!" she hissed. "They've spent the last several decades under Khivar, so if they haven't figured out by now that he's a big fat liar, they never will! Bullies don't suddenly stop bullying when they win battles, they just bully more! I don't care if you were married to Bozo the Clown or a German Shepherd; anything would have been a better gamble than staying with a known nutcase...why are you smiling?" Courtney demanded. "What's so funny?"

"You," Zan said, chuckling. "I've heard this speech before. You blew up just like this at the summit in New York City where we all met to try and hash this out."

"Oh," Courtney said, taken aback. "I did? Did it work? Must not have."

Zan shook his head. "No, it didn't. In the end, only the Resistance backed me. Even Larak walked away."

"Jesus," Courtney muttered.

"So that's why Tess has to be here. We all had different strengths, and we were always stronger as a group, but it turned out our greatest strength was just the sight of us all together, the story of the royal family reunited at last. I don't necessarily need Tess and me to be together, but I need to keep her in Roswell. The only way I know to do that is to stay unattached so she still has hope."

"You mean string her along," Courtney translated, grabbing a pack of napkins. "Good luck with that. I've got to get back. Maria's on the warpath more than ever after last night, so if I'm missing too long, she'll come looking, and find more than just me."

"Ah, yes," Zan said, "the great Michael fight. You know, he would have married you."

Courtney nearly dropped the napkins. "What?"

"Michael. He was going to marry you. That was the plan, wasn't it? You said Jaddo came up with it." He paused. "I remembered his name last night. It just popped into my head, out of nowhere."

"Are you...are you saying Michael and I were...together?"

"Where do you think you got that new husk?" Zan said. "You and Michael were good together. If he'd lived, I bet you would have been great together."

"But...he was supposed to marry Isabel," Courtney said carefully.

Zan shook his head. "Bad idea. You were his match. If we change things, maybe it'll work out this time."

"Maybe," Courtney agreed faintly. "Be careful when you leave."

"No worries," Zan said. "I learned to be a ghost a long time ago."

Courtney slipped out of the storeroom and closed the door behind her, her heart beating so hard, she completely missed Maria bearing down on her. "Where have you been?" Maria demanded. "You've got orders up, sweetheart, and I'm not delivering them!"

Courtney blinked. "What? Oh...sorry. I'll get them. Thanks for telling me."

She left Maria open-mouthed with shock and delivered three tables worth of food in a trance. Maria didn't matter any more. Brivari didn't matter any more. He would have married you. You were his match. However awful Zan's future was, she had not only survived, but she and Rath were together in that future, and the King approved. Now they just had to come up with a version of the future where they both lived.






*********************************************************






Whitman Residence






Alex tossed his keys on his desk and sank into his chair with a heavy sigh. Thank God for computers; they were just machines with no emotion, no agendas. If they didn't work, it was either a mechanical problem or a software problem, not someone trying to screw you over, or telling you they loved you right before turning up at some other girl's house with the girl in a towel. He had half a mind to give Michael Guerin a serious piece of his mind, but given that he probably wouldn't survive the encounter, perhaps he'd best get his affairs in order first.

Click

Alex glanced at the window. It sounded like someone had chucked a stone at it, and he went to the window and opened it, leaning out over the lawn below.

"Alex!" a voice called. "Over here!"

"I'll get the front door," Alex said.

"No—out here. Can we talk?"

Great, Alex sighed. Another alien, although not the one he was mad at. He made his way downstairs, past the living room where his parents were watching some sitcom or other, and into the front yard.

"Hey, Tess," Alex said. "What's up?"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'm off to the west coast to meet our son from New Zealand! He's meeting us halfway--well, less than halfway for us, more than halfway for him. I'll be back at the end of the month with Chapter 53 on Sunday, July 31.