Identity (M/L, Mature) - AN 4/29/07 [WIP]

[CME]

Title: Identity
Rating: Mature
Coupling: M/L
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Summary: Jason Stevens lost his memory when he was seventeen years old. Now, nearly a decade later he has managed to establish a good life for himself. He has a successful career as a journalist and he has a family that cares for him. What happens when a national scandal threatens that life and reveals a past that is too frightening for him to accept?




Prologue

A dark-haired man in a black suit walked the narrow sterile hallway, the heel of his shoes softly scuffing the floor. The bright fluorescent lights lit up his face, giving him a sallow complexion. His blue-grey eyes shone bright, like beams of steel gleaming against the light. In his head, he ran over the different scenarios that laid before him, the many options he had for the project. It was of the utmost importance that this experiment go well. It was the biggest project his team had ever undertaken, one that would make or break his career.

He had been patient. For years he had waited, searched, hunted. His resilience had finally paid off when he got a lead in New Mexico. It was ironic that it would lead him back to where all of this started. Back to the original crash site. And when he spotted the target he couldn’t believe his luck.

It was only a boy. A teenage boy.

Abducting him was easy enough. However, when they reached the base and the first twenty four hours of observation passed, doubts began to plague him. Could he have been wrong? Could this boy be only that? A boy. The more he doubted the angrier he got, until the loathing consumed him, fueling his determination. He would find out one way or the other if this boy was truly the one. The one his predecessors had been looking for for close to fifty years.

Turning a corner, he paused as he spotted the doctor looking over a chart.

“How’s the patient, doctor?”

“He’s doing fine. The serum seems to be working but we have to keep him under observation for a few more weeks to test for longevity.”

“I understand. I’ll go prep the team. Will you keep me updated?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” The dark-haired man nodded and pivoted toward the observation room. It was time to put the operation into effect.



Chapter 1

A soft laugh echoes. A sway of dark hair and a flash of smooth skin. The gentle voice is teasing him. Beckoning him to follow her. He smiles and follows the path she traces with her gliding footsteps. A moment later, she rounds the corner and disappears. He runs after her but she’s gone.

Jason Stevens woke up, the familiar burning feeling lodged in his chest. Every night it was the same. The same dark-haired girl haunting his dreams. Sometimes the scenarios would change but the ending would always be the same. She was someone just beyond his reach. Try as he might he couldn’t ever remember seeing her face, but the way she made him feel…it was something he’d never felt before.

Swinging his legs off to the side of his bed, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He rubbed the puckered skin on his chest, recalling the story of how the scar came to be.

He remembered waking up in a hospital bed with his father asleep on a chair beside him. The look of relief that passed on his father’s face when he opened his mouth and asked for water.

He remembered asking his father who he was, eliciting a pained response from him.

He explained that Jason had an acute bacterial infection that spread to his heart. The doctors operated and managed to remove the bacteria. Unfortunately, he had flat-lined and the oxygen to his brain had been cut-off for a couple of minutes. He lapsed into a coma that had lasted for over a week, and now, it seemed his memory had been damaged as well.

All of that happened a decade ago.

The road to recovery hadn’t been easy. He had spent over a year in therapy, both physical and psychological. He managed to graduate high school despite his struggle with his memory. The peculiar thing was the only part of his brain that had been damaged was his long-term memory. His logic and ability to learn were spared. To his father’s amazement, as well as his own, he had excelled in school and had graduated with honors from Georgetown University, going on to a burgeoning career in journalism.

His drowsy reminiscence was broken by the gentle pulsing of the telephone. He reached over to pick it up, accidentally tipping over the glass of water that sat on his bedside table.

“Hello?”

“Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty.”

Jason smiled.

“Hey Garcia. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you’re awake for Schumaker’s press conference this morning. We can’t have a replay of last week now can we?”

“Aw, c’mon man. Give me a break here. I was only five minutes late and that’s because my ID badge wasn’t coming through security check.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s always someone else’s fault, eh.”

Jason shook his head. Julio Garcia had been his best friend since grad school. Even working for rival newspapers hadn’t dampened their friendship.

“Stop talking already so I can get ready.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll see ya in the press room in an hour.”

Jason clicked the phone off and tossed it on his bed. Stripping his boxers off, he threw it in the hamper and headed for the shower.



“Can you believe that guy? He was lying through his teeth,” Julio mumbled, biting into his hotdog. “Does he actually expect the public to buy that bullshit?”

The press conference had been a zoo. FBI Director Josef Schumaker had fielded questions about the Bureau’s expenditures when information had leaked that the FBI had spent an inordinate amount of tax payers’ money on something that had been called ‘the Special Unit.’

“Man, I thought that shit only existed in the X-Files,” Julio chuckled. “Hey did you ask your dad about it?”

Jason looked at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “You know my dad doesn’t know about this crap. He’s a narc for shit’s sake. He’s been head of narcotics for the past ten years. He’s the most skeptical guy I know. I doubt he even knew about the existence of this ‘Special Unit.’”

The truth of the matter was Jason hadn’t asked his father about it. Like his father, Jason was also a skeptic. The secret existence of a group of FBI agents dedicated to the investigation of aliens and unexplained phenomena was just too preposterous for him to comprehend. If it weren’t for the million dollar figure that had been leaked, Jason would have passed up the assignment altogether.

Julio wadded up his napkin and threw it in the nearby trash can.

“I better get going. Browne will have my ass in a sling if I don’t get back soon.”

“I bet you’d like that too,” Jason laughed when his friend blushed.

“Yeah, listen you can’t be saying that too loud,” Julio whispered. “Remember the Times’ policy on inter-office romance.”

Jason sighed and shook his head. “Listen dude. You guys have to end this thing. Having an office fling is one thing. But romancing a married woman, well…that’s just not kosher.”

Julio stood up and slapped his friend on the back. “Okay, Father Stevens. I promise that I’ll stop breaking the seventh commandment…soon,” he winked before walking away.

Jason nodded his goodbye before grabbing his messenger bag. He had a full report to do and he needed to have it ready by six pm for the presses.

When Jason arrived at his office, the newsroom was already in full swing. It was Friday after all and the weekend edition was due for printing in a few hours. When he reached his cubicle the first thing he noticed was a Post-It note stuck on his computer monitor. Pulling it off, he eased down into his chair.

Had a great time last night! Hope to do it again. –C

Jason smiled as he powered up his computer. He recalled his date last night with Courtney and how well it had gone. He clicked on his Outlook icon, prepared to send her an email when Richard Lee, the department editor, popped his head over his cubicle wall.

“Can I see you in my office for a sec, Jason?”

Jason looked up and nodded. He sighed and minimized his email. I guess inter-office flirting will have to wait for another time. Duty calls, he thought then caught himself and rolled his eyes.

Richard Lee was a slim, balding man. He’d been Jason’s editor for the past four years, playing a key factor in Jason’s transition from office intern to political columnist. He had believed in Jason and his journalistic abilities from the get-go. He’d been the one to encourage Jason to apply for the columnist position when it had opened up. Jason owed a lot to this man.

Entering Richard’s office, he took in the familiar disarray of documents and old editions of the Post, before grabbing a seat. He watched as Richard sifted through a leaf of papers on his desk before pulling some out and placing it in front of him.

“What’s this?” Jason asked, giving his boss a questioning look.

“That, my friend, is proof,” Richard leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head, waiting for his protégé’s reaction.

Jason looked down at the pile of documents laid out before him. Some were memos, emails, inter-office correspondence. While the others were spreadsheets; departmental budgets spanning over fifteen years. He quickly looked through a few emails, most of which, he noted, were from a D. Pierce. They looked like field updates and requests for further funding. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Okay you got me. What’s so unique about these?” Jason gestured to the documents.

Richard raised an eyebrow but didn’t move from his relaxed position. For someone so smart, Jason sure did miss the trees from the forest sometimes, Richard thought wryly.

“Take a look at the memo stapled to one of the spreadsheets, from May of 2000,” he nudged his chin to the papers, coaxing Jason to follow his request.

He watched as Jason read the correspondence, quickly scanning the spreadsheet. He watched as the young reporter’s eyes widened and couldn’t help the self-satisfied grin that spread across his face.

“Where did you get these?” Jason asked excitedly flipping through the sheets of paper. “I mean I know about the leak but every reporter out there has been trying to get their hands on something solid. But this…wow!”

Richard laughed at Jason’s enthusiasm. He was equally excited about the documents, even more so since he managed or rather he was contacted by the “leak.” A modern day deep throat.

“Make sure you look over those carefully. You have an interview with Deep Throat on Monday morning.”

Jason’s fingers stilled on the desk. Was Richard serious? Had he really managed to contact the leak? He looked up at his boss in disbelief.

“Are you serious? I mean how? I mean…that’s awesome!” Jason clapped his hands excitedly, feeling the rush that only a good story lead could bring.

Richard grinned and shook his head. “You’ve got your work cut out for you on this one, Jase. I’ve never come across a more paranoid person in my life.”

Richard watched as his Jason’s mouth dropped open and snapped close. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t met him or her, nor have I spoken to him on the phone. DT’s preferred form of communication has been email.”

Jason couldn’t really blame the Informant for being paranoid. He knew he’d be too if he was up against a prominent government agency. He’d heard enough stories from his father to know that the FBI liked to have their fingers in every pie.

“So what changed? Why the sudden need to meet?” Jason asked.

Richard merely shrugged. “All he said was that he wanted to meet the reporter who would be,” he hooked his fingers into the air making invisible quote marks, “telling the world the truth.”

Jason raised an eyebrow waiting for his boss to continue. When he didn’t he leaned forward and asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Who knows? I’ve come across enough spooks in my career to know that they’re always paranoid but they always tell the truth.” Richard shifted in his seat, his expression turning serious. “There is a catch though. The informant wants to meet in Roswell.”

“What?! Roswell, as in New Mexico?” Jason asked in disbelief. When he saw Richard nod, Jason cocked an eyebrow and leaned back into his chair.

“Unbelievable,” Jason laughed. Was this Deep Throat for real?

“Just remember to be careful. You’re playing with the big boys now and I don’t want you getting hurt. Always watch your back.”

Jason nodded and muttered a quick thanks before letting himself out of Richard’s office. Looking down at the file of papers in his hand, he knew that he had a long road ahead of him, but he was sure that every step of the way would be worth it to uncover the truth.


tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 2

Liz Parker lay on her side staring at the wall. She knew it was Saturday morning and that there were things to do, but she couldn’t make herself get up.

A soft knock sounded at the door before it was pushed open.

“Liz?” a voice whispered softly. “Are you up?”

Liz stayed still, her eyes still focused on the wall. She made no movement to acknowledge her visitor.

A moment later, she heard the door close and a muffled argument erupt.

“I think she’s having one of her bad days again,” she heard her mother say.

“For god’s sake, Nancy. She’s been having her bad days on and off for the past five years! Don’t you think it’s time we listen to her therapist and put her in a treatment facility?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this, Jeff! She’s just depressed, not suicidal!”

“Says you,” she heard her father huff.

“Look, she’s taking her medication what more do you want?!”

“Maybe for her to get better!” Her father yelled.

Liz tuned it all out as she hugged her pillow to her, curling her body into a tight ball. She blinked, moistening her dry eyes. Tears were few and far in between nowadays. She tried to get her mind to force her body to get up but it was no use. There just was no motivation to do anything. No need. No want. If she had been brave, she would have ended her life a long time ago, but she couldn’t even do that; not that she hadn’t tried.

She remembered that May evening five years ago. It had been the anniversary of His disappearance. She had gone to visit Isabel.

After He disappeared, all of her friends had looked at her in pity. However, they didn’t hesitate to look to her for guidance. After His disappearance the onus of leadership had fallen on her shoulders. After all, she had been Max’s paramour; it was assumed that she would share his leadership role. It was up to her to keep everyone together, to keep searching for Him, but the passage of time had worn the group down, and that day five years ago had been the beginning of the end.

After His disappearance, Isabel had been inconsolable, and Liz being who she was, took on the responsibility of taking care of her. It had been a means of escape for her at the time. It kept her occupied, her mind free to be able to think of a plan to find Him, to rescue Him. At first, they all had listened to her.

She had shown up at Isabel’s apartment, excited about a new plan. When Isabel opened the door, she wasn’t prepared to find the solemn expressions or the look of pity on the faces of her friends. It wasn’t a group meeting after all.

It was an intervention.

They all turned to her and pleaded with her to give up her quest. Telling her it was futile. Max was dead. Isabel had cried, Maria had cried, but she wouldn’t let any of their tears affect her. She straightened her back and masked her hurt, turning to them with cold, stony eyes. She announced that she would continue with or without their help and had promptly walked out.

However once outside, her grief overcame her and she screamed in rage and misery, surprising herself when the lamp posts that surrounded her exploded in a shower of glass and sparks.

The aftermath of the explosion left her numb and confused. She calmly walked home, climbed up the fire escape and walked into the bathroom to run a bath. When the tub was full, she stripped out of her clothes, grabbed a pair of sharp scissors and lowered herself into the warm water.

She stared at the silver glint of the scissors and then turned her eyes to her pale wrist. It could all be so easy, just a simple cut and it would all be over. She raised the shears and poised it over her throbbing vein. Slowly, she lowered it but stopped when she felt the sharp point touch her skin. It seemed like an eternity passed as she contemplated what she was about to do. She psyched herself up and tried again but she just couldn’t do it. She was afraid. Afraid of living. Afraid of dying.

She dropped the scissors with a clang on the tiled bathroom floor before bursting into tears. She buried her face in her hands and wept until there were no more tears to cry. Stepping out of the tub, she dried off her exhausted body and slowly crawled into bed.

And there she stayed for a week.


Liz rolled onto her other side and faced her desk. Her eyes scanned the wall behind it until her gaze landed on what she was looking for. Slowly peeling the covers off of her, she padded her way to her computer, fumbling around the back of her monitor. When her fingers collided with the worn piece of paper, she breathed a sigh of relief and pulled it out of its hiding place. Clutching it in her hand, she made her way back to her bed and folded herself beneath the covers.

Staring at the worn photograph in her hand, her fingers traced her beloved’s youthful face.

She recalled the day they had taken the pictures. It had been late fall, just after their parents had come down on them hard after her and Max had spent the night in the desert. They had been told to cool it for a while but their attraction to each other couldn’t be ignored. They had sneaked off and spent the day in Artesia, looking around the local shops. When they came across the photo booth they knew that they had to get their pictures taken. They both wanted to remember that day, because they knew that as soon as their parents found out what they had done, they’d be reprimanded heavily. But that was long ago. It pained her to think that He would forever be remembered as the local boy who had been abducted and was never found. That was the story they had told the Evans and the police, with the exception of Sheriff Valenti. They had all agreed that it was the best course of action and with the Sheriff’s testimony that he had seen a man abduct the Evans boy; it had been strangely easy to pull off.

Taking a deep breath, she reached over to her nightstand and grabbed the bottle of Zoloft and shook one out to her awaiting palm. She held the little white pill between her thumb and forefinger turning it this way and that, before placing it on her tongue and swallowing it, feeling the dry pill scrape against the tender tissue of her throat. She found it funny that parents thought her salvation lay inside a pill. She hadn’t had the heart to tell her mother that antidepressant wasn’t working. That it had ceased to work months ago when her burgeoning powers had caused her to develop a tolerance for it.

Her powers. Just another thing to remember Him by.

It hadn’t developed until years after His disappearance. Her discovery of its development being when she made the street lights in front of Isabel’s apartment shatter. She hadn’t told a soul, not Michael or Isabel or even her two best friends. What was she supposed to say to them? I know you think that I’m insane but I know that He’s still alive. Oh and by the way, I’ve got superpowers now. Yeah, that was highly unlikely. And so, she suffered through her mutation alone and in fear. It had been extremely difficult to hide it from her parents but she managed. It was only when she was in emotional turmoil that it seemed to flare up. She also found that her low levels of serotonin helped mute her powers. After all, hadn’t Nasedo told them that these powers were derived from the human brain?

Shrugging off her thoughts, she placed the picture beneath her pillows and closed her eyes.

She was so very tired.


<center>* * *</center>


Jason pulled his hunter green Miata up to the curb and cut the engine. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, he looked up and stared at the brownstone that he used to call home. Nothing much had changed since he moved out all those years ago. The same apple tree still sat in the front yard. The bumper of his dad’s old Toyota peeked out from the opened garage door.

“Hi Dad!” Jason called out spotting his father coming out of the garage.

“Jason!” Mr. Steven’s grinned, clearly delighted to see his son.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, giving his son a manly hug.

“Good to see you too, Dad,” Jason replied, thumping his father on the back. “How’s Linda?”

“Why don’t you come inside and ask her yourself?” Mr. Steven’s wiped his hands on his pant legs as he led the way to the house.

“Jason!” Linda exclaimed as soon as she saw her stepson walk in with her husband. “How are you?”

“I’m good and you’re looking great,” Jason complimented as he bussed her cheek. His stepmother was a petite woman of fifty-five. She had met Jason’s father five years before a party thrown by one of their mutual friends. Three years later, they married.

“So how goes it in the world of DC politics?” Linda inquired, turning her back to check on her roast.

“Really good. I’m actually on to a new story,” Jason casually replied, popping a spicy pea into his mouth. “Ummnnn, these are really good. What are they?”

“Oh those. I got them from that new supermarket that opened up on Yew Street. They’re wasabi peas from Japan. Aren’t they great?” Linda walked over to where Jason stood and grabbed a few peas out of the bowl.

“Is dinner ready yet?” Jason’s father asked, stepping up to his wife and giving her temple a kiss. In response, Linda smiled and patted his stomach.

“Oh you, always thinking about your stomach,” she laughed and walked back to the stove.

Mr. Stevens opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. “Jase, you want something to drink?”

“Sure. Got any cherry cola?” Jason asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Of course,” Mr. Stevens grinned as he handed his son the cold can of cherry Coke.

“How’s work going?” he asked, twisting the top off of his beer bottle.

“Same old, same old. You know how Washington is. There’s always a dirty politician around every corner,” Jason replied. He contemplated whether he should mention his new assignment, unsure whether how his father would react. Through all his life, he’d always known one thing, that his father was and always will be a patriot and a loyal government employee. He and his father had butt heads several times over political views and he had learned to keep his personal political opinions to himself. However, this new situation was different. He wondered whether his father could help get him the inside track when it came to the inner workings of the Bureau.

Tentatively, he began to test the waters.

“I heard one of the reporters at work talking about the some sort of financial scandal with the Bureau…,” he let his statement dangle, hoping that his father would pick up the bait.

“Is that so,” Mr. Stevens replied, keeping his eyes trained on the kitchen window as he casually sipped his beer.

When his father grew silent, Jason continued, “Yeah, it’s probably nothing.” He sighed and gave up. When it came to his work, his father had never been forthcoming. Over the years, Jason had learned not to press.

He looked at his father’s face looking for anything that might reveal if he had knowledge about the scandal or not but as usual, he encountered nothing. Years of experience working as a G-man had given his father an impenetrable poker face. Jason knew it would be like bashing his head against the wall to pursue his questioning any further.

Dinner passed by quickly. He noticed that his father seemed preoccupied throughout the meal. When he asked him about it later that evening, Mr. Stevens dismissed it, saying that he had a long week at work and that he was tired.

“Maybe you should retire, Dad,” Jason suggested.

“Soon, son. Soon,” Mr. Stevens replied as he walked Jason to his car. “Only a couple of years to go. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Jason nodded and started the car.

“By the way, I’ll be out of town for a couple of days. I’m on assignment. You’ve got my cell number if you need me,” he stated before waving goodbye and driving off.

Mr. Stevens watched his son’s car disappear down the street. From the corner of his eye, he saw a non-descript, navy blue sedan pull out of the curb and follow. Running his fingers through his thinning hair, he sighed and walked back toward the house.



tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 3

Liz rolled over and hit the off button on her alarm. It was 5:30 Monday morning and her shift was due to start in half an hour. Rolling onto her back she clutched the covers to her chest and stared at the ceiling. It was late spring and the sun was already out and shining through the gaps in between her curtains. She watched as dust bunnies swirled in the air like little ballerina flakes. Twirling up and then cascading down. Slowly, like she was covered in molasses, she pushed herself up and swung her legs off the side of the bed.

Days passed and bled into one another. Day night, night day, it didn’t make a difference to her.

Shuffling to the bathroom, she turned on the tap and splashed her face with ice cold water. Like a madwoman she scrubbed her face. Scrubbing and scrubbing until her skin felt raw and burnt. She needed to feel something, anything, and pain was the only feeling she could identify with.

She brushed her teeth and picked up her hair brush, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. She reached for the medicine cabinet, purposely avoiding at looking at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t need to see herself. She already knew what she looked like.

She twisted the cap on her prescription bottle and popped a pill in her mouth. She cupped her hands under the tap and drank, tipping her head back.

When she finished getting dressed, she moved to the dresser and grabbed a pair of socks. Pushing her feet into her old, white sneakers, she sighed and opened the door. She paused under the doorway, her eyes scanning the empty kitchen and living room. Her parents must already be downstairs preparing the café for the breakfast crowd or they would have been all over her like butter on toast. Sometimes she felt like tearing her hair out at the way they hovered over her, constantly asking if she was okay, if she needed anything. Little did they know that they were slowly suffocating her with their love and concern.

She closed her eyes and braced herself. She knew what people said about her behind her back. She could hear them – another thing she had to thank Him for. She could hear the whispers and the rumors, how they thought she was suicidal, a little crazy even. There were times she was tempted to jump on the counter during the breakfast rush and scream her head off. After all, they all thought she was crazy to begin with; why not prove them right?

She knew the Sheriff would come by for his morning coffee, like he did everyday. He would ask her how she was to which she would reply that she was good. He’d look at her with a mixture of pity and understanding. She never had conversations with the Sheriff. Actually, she never had conversations with anybody. She mostly kept to herself, preferring to be locked up in her room. She would see her old friends from time to time, but it just wasn’t the same. Maria had Michael. Isabel had Alex. Even Kyle had formed a strange friendship with Tess, although he was still kept in the dark about the whole alien conspiracy.

She had tried to be happy for her friends but she just didn’t have it in her. Call her selfish but she just couldn’t help the bitter feelings that bubbled up every time she saw Michael and Maria or Alex and Isabel together. How come they were allowed to be happy and she wasn’t? Where was her happy ending?

Grudgingly, she made her way down the stairs into the staff area. She saw Sarah glance up at her as she hung her sweater in her locker.

“G’morning, Liz,” Sarah smiled sweetly. Liz looked at her and nodded. As usual she couldn’t even muster up a ghost of a smile.

“I’ll see you in there,” Sarah mumbled, covering up her embarrassment at being snubbed. She shut locker and quickly shuffled out to the café floor.

Liz felt bad. She knew that all the other waitresses didn’t like her. They found her bitchy and aloof, but she couldn’t worry about that now. She needed to gather herself together just to get through today.

She grabbed a new order pad off the counter and pushed her way into the café. She saw her father prepping the ice cream machine as her mother worked the till.

“What’s my area today?” she asked, stepping next to her mother.

Her mother looked up from the register at the sound of her voice. Although she didn’t look at her in the eye, she could feel Nancy Parker’s gaze bearing down on her.

“You’ve got tables five to ten and the counter,” Nancy replied.

Before Liz could walk away she felt her mother place a hand on her arm. “How are you feeling today?”

Liz glanced at her mother’s pale hand resting on her forearm and sighed. “I’m fine,” she replied. Nancy waited for her to elaborate but when Liz stayed quiet, she withdrew her hand. Liz was used to these exchanges. They did it almost every other day.

For the first few hours, Liz served customers and bussed her tables. She was glad that she was working the morning shift today. She hated serving during the after school rush. That was when her headaches would flare from the strain of having to filter too many voices. She could hear all of them as she served their sodas and fries. They would wait until she turned her back before their gossip would start. They all thought she was insane. Some thought of her as some tragic heroine while others thought she was just some loser who couldn’t get over a boy. She tried to ignore them at first but as the years passed and she was bombarded by their stares and whispers every day, it got harder and harder to dismiss.

Everyday she pulled away. Retreated into herself out of sheer self-preservation. It was rare for her to have a conversation these days. There were some days where she didn’t speak at all. Sometimes she even forgot that she had a voice. Even when her old friends dropped by for their weekly let’s-cheer-up-Liz visits, she learned to avoid them. Those days she would sneak off to the town’s library and sit for hours hiding amongst the old hard covers. Didn’t they understand that she just wanted to be left alone?

The bell rang above the door signaling the entrance of another customer. Liz looked up from where she was wiping the counter. She saw the dark-haired young man take a seat at a booth near the window. She watched as he glanced around the walls bewildered and a little amused at his surroundings. Must be a tourist, Liz thought. Only a tourist would look that awestruck being surrounded that all the alien kitsch. Sighing, she dropped the rag she was holding and made her way to the newly occupied booth.

“Welcome to the Crashdown. Can I get you something to drink?” Liz greeted, placing a menu on the table. Not once did she look up.

“Thanks,” she heard the stranger mumble. “Just a cup of coffee, please.”

Liz nodded before walking away to fetch the carafe of coffee. When she returned the young man looked up and smiled at her. Her mouth opened and closed; unsettled by the way he was looking at her.


Jason looked up from the menu and smiled at the waitress. She was short and lean, her long, chestnut hair pulled back in a messy pony tail. He could tell she was pretty, despite the sadness he glimpsed in her eyes. Quiet, maybe shy, but a definite looker.

“Cool place you got here,” he said. Truthfully, he thought all this alien paraphernalia was beyond tacky, but it wouldn’t have been wise to insult the locals. After all, he may need their help in investigating his story.

“Yeah, I guess,” the waitress replied.

When it didn’t look like the waitress was going to say anything else, Jason tossed out his plan of flirting with her and placed his order.

He watched as she walked away, enjoying the gentle sway of her hips.


Liz placed the order on the wheel with shaking hands. She knew that he was staring at her. She could feel his eyes as they followed her around the café floor. The way he looked at her made her feel uncomfortable. Not afraid but uneasy. She hadn’t been brave enough to look him in the eyes. She took his order and walked away as quickly as possible. When she came by his table to fill his coffee cup, she did it quickly with her eyes firmly locked on the Formica table. Now she had a few minutes to kill before she would have to walk back to give him his food.

He was good looking. With his cropped, dark hair and trim goatee she had a feeling that he was used to a lot of feminine attention. She didn’t understand why he would elicit this type of reaction from her. For years, no man had ever caught her favor. Some tried but quickly gave up when they realized that she was unreceptive to any of their advances.

She made her way to her other tables and checked on her customers, trying hard to shrug off the feeling that she was being watched. When she heard the kitchen bell ring signaling that her order was up, she startled. She picked the breakfast special and grabbed a bottle of Tabasco and ketchup, making her way to the stranger’s table. She placed his order in front of him and watched as he opened the bottle of Tabasco and doused his eggs in them before shaking a couple of drops of the red spicy liquid into his coffee.

Liz stifled a gasp, her eyes growing wide. She noticed her hands began to shake. She glanced down nervously and clasped her two hands together, placing them in the pockets of her uniform.

“W-will there be anything else?” she stammered, mentally kicking herself for being so jumpy.

“No thank you. This is great by the way,” he commented, tucking heartily into the Martian eggs and hash.

Liz turned and staggered into the bathroom, ignoring her father’s concerned gaze. She locked herself in a stall and leaned back against the door. Taking deep breaths, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. Just because some customer liked his eggs soaked in Tobasco didn’t mean he was an alien. After all, it was the southwest and people around here liked things spicy.

She realized that it had been a long time since she had reacted this way. It was strange to feel the jolt of surprise and fear that crept up her spine.

When she finally managed to straighten herself out, she raised her hand and brushed the wisps of hair off her face. She turned to unlock the stall door only to realize that there was no lock. Only a melted silver lump of metal stood where the lock had been. She stumbled back and fell heavily onto the toilet seat.

Her breath burned in her lungs. This couldn’t be happening now. It had been months since her powers manifested itself physically. She thought that her current mental condition had been keeping things at bay.

She stared at her hands, scrutinizing every vein and pore. She didn’t see anything, she didn’t feel anything. There were no telltale signs of a flare-up. She didn’t understand what had triggered this current surge.

Looking up, she tried to figure out a way to escape stall. Rising to her feet, she used the closed toilet seat to raise herself up. She peered onto the other side of the stall, gauging the distance of the next toilet from the wall. Once she was confident that she wouldn’t fall, she placed her sneakered feet onto the toilet tank and heaved herself up and over the wall. She landed with a dull thud on the other side.

She quickly walked to the sink and ran her hands beneath the stream of cold water, trying to cool the prickling, burning sensation beneath her skin. She had to get herself together. She still had a few more hours to go on her shift. She couldn’t afford to have an anxiety attack with her parents outside watching her like a pair of hawks.

Taking one last deep breath, she relished the cold, numbing feeling in her hands before opening the door and stepping out into the café.

Liz walked to the other side of the counter and grabbed the carafe of coffee. She noticed that the breakfast crowd was beginning to thin out. Maybe she’d have a chance to take a break, to get herself together.

As she approached the stranger’s table, she noticed him take out a notebook and a miniature tape recorder, as well as a laptop. Right away her suspicions were raised. Could he be FBI? Or maybe a reporter? But they haven’t had much of a visit from either for at least a couple of years, at least none that she had noticed.

“Would you like a refill?” she asked, covertly peeking at the laptop screen. At least it didn’t have the FBI logo blatantly flashing on it, recalling the incidence with Alex and Topolsky.

“Yes, please,” he answered, keeping his eyes trained on his laptop.

Liz poured his coffee, working hard to keep a mask of nonchalance. She didn’t know why but she had a hunch that this stranger was someone of interest and she intended to find out why.

Like a sleeping giant, the once familiar feelings of paranoia and fear were stirred and woken up, and she knew that they wouldn’t sleep again until they were appeased.


tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 4

Daniel Pierce walked to his office on the fifth floor of the historic J. Edgar Hoover Building, politely greeting his colleagues along the way. He watched as several conversations stopped as he passed by. They all waved and greeted him but he knew that he was the topic of conversation this morning, especially after Schumaker’s press conference on Friday.

He knew Schumaker didn’t like him. He had hit the roof when he found out about the covert expenditures.

Josef Schumaker was a friendly looking man. Tall and rotund, with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, he was quite a presence. His kind eyes and charisma endeared him to most everyone he met. However, despite his friendly reputation, it was well-known throughout the intel and political community that Josef Schumaker was one man you didn’t want to cross. A former Marine and Desert Storm vet, he graduated from Quantico at the top of his class. He had been credited for several successful sting operations and arrests, the most notorious one being the arrest of Vito Gandolfini, the former head of the Bonifacio crime family. He had also been heavily involved in anti-terrorism operations post September 11th. When he was appointed director he made it his mission to tighten unnecessary spending and increase homeland security.

And Pierce hated him.

Schumaker stole the position that Pierce had coveted for the past five years and now he’s managed to jeopardize his brainchild as well. Pierce felt the vein at his temple throb at the thought of the public scrutiny his project was now going to have to face.

He knew that Schumaker was angry at being left out of the information loop. Knowledge of the Special Unit was on a need-to-know basis, and the powers-that-be decided that the director of the FBI didn’t need to know. Pierce wanted to laugh. He knew that it galled Schumaker that a little peon like Pierce was on a higher information level than the director of the FBI. Pierce swore that once the scandal died down, he would see to it that he replaced Schumaker as Bureau director and his first order of business would be to expand the Special Unit.

Placing his briefcase down, he turned and shut the door to his office. He didn’t want to be disturbed this morning. He had a lot of clean up to do today.

He powered up his computer and logged on to his encoded email account. Pierce wasn’t stupid. He knew that the main server scanned all incoming and outgoing emails. He had a buddy at the NSA set up a separate email account server for his unit. However, he still had to keep up appearances, so he learned to assign the non-confidential emails to his regular Bureau account.

Everyday for the past decade he had checked on the status of Subject B. At first, he had been enthusiastic; feeling the rush when he received a status report. Now, however, that rush had ebbed and was replaced by a type of boredom something akin to apathy. Pierce didn’t care that the subject lived a normal life, with normal parents and a normal job. He thought it funny picturing how Subject B would react if his abnormal origins were revealed to him.

Pierce took a file out of his briefcase and laid its contents on his desk. The results of Subject B’s annual physical stared back at him.

Though unscientific himself, he took pride in taking credit for the development of the inhibiting serum. Administered once a year, it was efficient in repressing Subject B’s memories. To this day, he was still unsure as to whether Subject B possessed other-worldly abilities. After his predecessors’ experience with Subject A, Pierce learned to be cautious. Throughout Subject B’s captivity, Pierce had ordered him to be drugged at all times. He knew what the subject’s kind was capable of and he didn’t want a repeat performance. The military lost a lot of good men that day sixty years ago.

His computer beeped, signaling the arrival of a new email.

Code: Select all

Field report.

Subject arrival confirmed.  Will be kept under observation at all times.  Contact with Target negative.  

Next report will be tonight at 20:00 hours.

Pierce frowned. He would have thought that the Target would have made contact with Subject B by now. He needed to find out the identity of the leak as soon as possible and eliminate him. Pierce hated loose ends. He also knew he had to make a decision about his current project, since it was in danger of losing its funding.

Pulling out a key from his pocket, he inserted it into the lock on the side of his desk. When he heard the lock disengage, he pulled out the bottom drawer and searched inside. He lifted out a heavy bottle and a small glass. He filled the tumbler with the odious, tawny liquid before lifting the glass up to his lips.

As he felt the scotch burn a trail down his throat, he thought of his initial plans for this project.

The phone rang, causing Pierce to wince at the sound. He placed his glass of scotch down before picking up the receiver.

“Pierce here,” he answered, leaning back in his chair.

“Pierce!” The voice on the other end shouted causing Pierce to sit up in attention.

“Senator Andrews!” Pierce wasn’t expecting his call this morning. He must really be in deep if it warranted a call from the boss’ boss.

His first meeting with the Senator had been a surprise.

“What’s this shit I’m hearing, huh? The public was never to find out about the Unit. Now we’ve got every reporter from the Enquirer to the New York Times sniffing around in our backyard! How the fuck did this happen? You’re supposed to be in charge. What the hell were you doing? Taking a fucking vacation?!” The Senator accused.

Pierce could feel the sweat building on his brow. He hated politicians. They were all the same – always talking big but afraid to get their hands dirty. He hated the power that these politicos wielded and they never thought twice about holding it over your head.

“No, Senator,” Pierce replied, “My men and I are on top of it. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Rest assured that once the culprit is found, he will be made to pay.”

“He better, Pierce or your ass is grass!”

Pierce heard the click on the other end and he slowly lowered his phone back to its cradle. Fucking prick! How dare he accuse him of slacking! Didn’t Andrews realize that Pierce had given half his life to the project and if Andrews thought he could replace him then the Senator had another thing coming!

It was a big undertaking, that he knew, but Pierce was ambitious. He’d been warned by his superiors that if the public ever got wind of it, heads would roll. His clean track record for the past decade had vindicated his gamble. He thought that would be enough but apparently not.

Pierce’s life was all about the project. Since his induction into the elite group, all he ever thought about was how to make the operation better, more successful. It was under his leadership that Subject B was found and captured.

He leaned back and downed the last of his scotch. Checking his watch, he reached for his cell phone and dialed the familiar numbers.

Pierce was not a patient man. He wanted results and when he couldn’t get them, he made sure that someone paid for it. He knew that it would be up to him to find the leak. He didn’t trust anybody but himself to conduct the investigation. Everyone was a suspect.

When the other line was picked up, Pierce made an appointment. He hung up and put his computer in sleep mode before collecting his things.

As he passed by the department secretary’s desk, he informed her that he would be out most of the morning and would not be reachable by mobile. She nodded her understanding and continued with her typing.


Pierce cursed the traffic as he drove his black SUV through Arlington Boulevard. He was running fifteen minutes behind. He hated being late. It always gave the opponent the advantage, and he hated to lose.

After checking his watch for the tenth time, he spotted Sleepy Hollow Road and turned, spotting the familiar orange and white building ahead. Pulling into the parking lot, he grabbed his briefcase and jogged to the administration entrance of Dominion Hospital.

He hated this place. The sterile white walls and plastic waiting room chairs, and that smell. He found all hospitals smelled the same. Like disinfectant and antibiotics. This place wasn’t any different.

The receptionist at the counter looked up and smiled at him as he approached.

“I’m here to see Dr. Brown,” he said curtly, not returning her smile.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her smile vanishing from her face as she looked at the computer screen.

“He’s expecting me. Tell him it’s Daniel Pierce.”

She nodded before lifting up the phone receiver and paging Dr. Brown.

Pierce sat on the red waiting room chairs as he waited for the doctor. He shook his head and for the millionth time wondered why a former Army surgeon like Dr. Robert Brown would chose to work in a blatantly liberal psychiatric hospital such as Dominion? He didn’t understand the pull, the draw to such a touchy-feely hospital.

“Hello Agent Pierce,” Dr. Brown greeted, extending his hand. Pierce stood up and shook it.

“Follow me to my office. We can discuss things there,” Dr. Brown pivoted and began walking down the hall not looking back to see if Pierce was following.

Despite his age, Dr. Robert Brown was still a distinguished looking man. Tall, dark-skinned, with a full head of curly, silver hair, he still made the daily rounds at the hospital.

He knew people wondered why at the age of seventy he still refused to retire. They just assumed that he loved his work. True, that it was, there was still an underlying reason as to why he was still practicing – he wanted to atone for his past sins.

Dr. Brown had just come off his stint as a Marine neurosurgeon when a small group of powerful men – a senator, a couple of high-ranking army and air force officers, and an official from the NSA approached him and recruited him to join an elite group of men working on a top secret project within the Federal Bureau of Investigation. At first he was intrigued. It was a little known fact that Robert Brown was fascinated by all things extra-terrestrial. He was an avid reader of Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawking and had had aspirations to join NASA.

As years passed, he began to wonder the validity of the covert group that he now found himself a member of. The final straw came when he was presented with a live subject ten years after he joined the Unit. The boy couldn’t have been more than 18 years old and was brought in against his will under the supervision of Daniel Pierce. Dr. Brown had been ordered to keep him sedated at all times. When he was presented with DNA samples from the subject, he recalled staring at the microscope for several minutes unable to believe his eyes. The boy’s blood cells were completely different from any human he’d ever seen. His astonishment was compounded by DNA analysis that resulted from the sample. The subject’s DNA structure was not human, yet it carried unmistakable similarities. He couldn’t help it, his interest had been peaked. However, when Pierce had approached and had ordered him to perform the surgery, he had protested.

Pierce assured him that the boy would not be harmed. He had stated that the hippocampus had to be altered in order to keep the anonymity of their project. They couldn’t have the boy remembering because it would jeopardize the project, and he was too valuable to terminate. Dr. Brown was also to annually administer a serum and manipulate the neocortex in order to inhibit the boy’s ‘powers’.

He performed the surgery and had helped with the boy’s post-op recovery. A year and a half later, he left the Bureau and established his private practice.


“So what brings you by, Agent Pierce,” Dr. Brown asked walking into his office.

“Jason Stevens,” Pierce replied ominously, shutting the door behind him.


tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 5

Jason opened the door and paused as his eyes adjusted to the cool, dark interior of the building. As he made his way down the steps, he couldn’t help but marvel at the technology that surrounded him. As his foot made contact with the bottom step, an electronic feminine voice greeted him before launching into a brief history of the museum.

As Jason walked through the exhibits, he was impressed by the Center’s state of the art computer system. Each display contained a flat-screen monitor showing a brief MTV-style film about the history of each exhibit. All of the displays were interactive, inviting the viewer to participate by stepping up to a console and selecting which facts the viewer wanted to see. There was even a bank of computers that allowed visitors to search through articles and government documents which were formerly classified. Overall, the interior of the UFO Museum was the antithesis of the small town persona that Roswell, New Mexico exuded.

Jason felt the pocket of his pants vibrate. Checking his watch, he noted that thirty minutes had passed since he walked in through the doors. Fumbling through his pocket, he dug his cell phone out and flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Jase! Where the hell are ya? I’ve been calling your apartment for the past hour,” Julio Garcia barked.

“Sorry man. I forgot to tell you that I was going out of town,” Jason replied apologetically. “I’ve been so busy that it slipped my mind.”

“Don’t worry. You’re forgiven,” Julio chuckled. “Where are you anyways?”

“You’ll never believe this but I’m in Roswell.”

“Roswell, as in New Mexico?” Jason could hear the disbelief in his best friend’s voice.

“The one and only,” Jason answered, glancing at the alien memorabilia surrounding him.

“What the hell are you doing there?”

“Catching fish, my man.”

Jason was reluctant to reveal anything about his assignment. His supervisor warned him about watching his back. Despite Julio being his friend, he still felt better knowing that no one but he and Richard Lee knew the real purpose of his trip.

“Alright, well catch a real big one for me,” Julio replied. “Call me later.”

“I will. See ya,” Jason ended the call and replaced the phone back into his pocket.

“Excuse me, sir,” a boy of about fifteen wearing a yellow vest tapped his shoulder. “There are no cell phones allowed in the building.” He pointed to a sign on the wall behind Jason’s back.

Jason turned to look at the sign when his eyes were caught by a little green booth standing off the side of the stairs. Out of the blue a word flashed in his head.

Mud!

“Sir? Sir? Are you okay?” The teen asked.

“Huh?” Clearly disoriented, Jason turned toward the boy.

“I asked if you’re okay,” the boy explained. “You zoned out there for a minute.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I’m alright,” Jason answered, “Um, thanks,” he added as he backed towards the exit.

The boy looked at the well-dressed man as he made his way towards the front doors. “Damn weird tourists. Why do these nuts always flock to Roswell?” The boy muttered before walking away.


The burst of sunshine that hit Jason when he stepped outside was overwhelming. A little disoriented, he stumbled down the sidewalk toward his parked car. He didn’t understand what had just happened. One moment he was talking to the guide and the next it was like he stepped into some sort of movie, complete with sound. And that one word, Mud. He had no idea what it meant or why it would have popped into his head, but the green booth seemed to have triggered it. He suddenly had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. He tried to wrack his brain for something familiar, any previous experience that might be similar to what he had just imagined, but he came up empty.

Closing the door to his car, he took a deep breath and laid his head back against the seat. He needed to shake this feeling off if he wanted to have a good interview with the Bureau informant. He fished through his bag and pulled out his notebook. He glossed over his notes before starting the car and driving away.


Carver Park, a small strip of green located off of Virginia Avenue, was a good spot for a nondescript meeting. It was two o’clock in the afternoon and the playground was full of toddlers and their parents enjoying the warm spring weather.

Jason sat on a park bench beneath a willow tree as he waited for the informant to show up. He raised his hand and patted the digital recorder resting in his breast pocket. He wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible so he had left his laptop and notebook back at the hotel before proceeding to the park. Looking down, he checked his watch for the fifth time, making sure that he wasn’t late. In fact, he had made certain to arrive a little early in hope of making a good impression. However, he wasn’t surprised when he was unable to spot the informant right away. He didn’t know what the person looked like and was never given any indication as to what the person might be wearing.

Jason fidgeted in his seat. He felt the hum of excitement coursing along his veins. What kind of person would know enough about the inner-workings of the FBI and still want to turn on them, despite the consequences that would ensue? This person was either very brave or very stupid. Other than the IRS, the FBI was the only other US agency capable enough to turn your life and those you care about upside down.

The sudden barking of a dog caught his attention. He turned and twisted his body, trying to find the source of the commotion. A few feet away, a woman walking a golden retriever was busily trying to pull her dog away from a blonde-haired man wearing a dark suit, which Jason found a little odd since the area was more residential than commercial. After a few minutes and a few expletives later, the man walked away as the woman with the dog shouted after him.

As Jason turned back around, he was caught off-guard by a little Hispanic boy of about six years old standing about two feet away staring at him. Jason smiled at the boy and shifted uncomfortably, but the boy did not move or speak.

“Hi,” Jason greeted looking around the park for the boy’s mother. When the boy didn’t answer, he continued, “Are you lost?”

The little boy shook his head.

“Where’s your mommy?”

The boy looked behind him indicating a park bench where two women sat talking animatedly.

“Does she know you’re over here?”

Once again the boy shook his head.

Jason was getting nervous. He didn’t want to be rude but he didn’t want to look like some sort of child abductor either. Maybe he should take the little boy back to his mother. However, before he could say anything the kid stepped forward and thrust a lollipop at him.

Jason’s eyes widened, surprised by the sudden action. He looked at the lollipop peculiarly unsure as to whether he should take it. When he didn’t make a move, the boy got impatient and shook the lollipop in front of him indicating that Jason should take it. Jason looked at the boy in the eyes trying to gauge if it was okay but the child merely stared back at him.

Feeling awkward and nervous, Jason laughed at himself and reached forward, plucking the lollipop from the boy’s sticky fingers. The minute the candy slipped out of his grasp, the little boy pivoted and ran back toward the playground.

Jason slumped back and laughed as he watched the pudgy little boy run to the monkey bars, his untied shoelaces flapping behind him.

Jason looked down at the lollipop in his hand. There was nothing special about it. An oval, green-colored lollipop wrapped in clear plastic. As he turned to throw the candy away, he noticed some sort of writing on the plastic wrapper. He raised the candy and angled it so that the writing was illuminated by the sunlight. As the black writing became clearer, Jason’s eyes widened and quickly turned his head looking behind him. He scanned the area but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He saw a group of small children playing, some women chatting, two old men sitting at a picnic table playing chess – just a regular spring day at a city park. He looked back down at the wrapper and re-read the message.

You’re being watched.

Nervously, he clutched the lollipop in his palm and stuffed it inside his jacket pocket. He took a second look around him trying to spot something, anything that would indicate that he was indeed being watched.

He pushed himself up off the bench and headed toward the playground, to the little boy that gave him the candy.

Pausing at the edge of the playground, Jason crouched down low and called the boy. The kid and the friend he was playing with paused and both turned to stare at Jason.

“Hi, remember me? I just wanted to ask a question,” Jason explained.

The little boy shuffled two steps forward and stopped. He looked up and stared back at Jason.

When the kid didn’t continue, Jason fished out the lollipop and held it out to the boy.

“Do you remember who gave you this?” He asked. The boy didn’t say anything.

“Was it a man? Do you remember what he looked like?” He coaxed.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, mister?” A tall, dark-haired woman demanded, as she approached him from behind.

Startled, Jason turned and almost lost his footing on the sand.

“I was just asking him a question,” Jason replied.

“Listen you pervert I’m going to call the cops,” the woman fished out a cell phone from her oversized purse, “So you better scram!”

Jason grimaced as understanding dawned on him. He must look like some sort of pedophiliac dangling a piece of candy in front of a little kid.

He held out his hands in front of him in supplication. “No, no! I’m sorry. I’m not a criminal I’m a reporter,” he explained as he fumbled for his wallet. When the woman glared at him pointedly, he pulled out his Press ID and waved it in front of her.

“See,” he said slowly, pointing to the badge. “Jason Stevens. Washington Post.”

The woman momentarily glanced at his identification and raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay,” Jason stuffed his ID back in his wallet. Clearly, the woman was neither impressed nor did she care that he was a reporter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He looked at the lollipop and little boy one more time before putting the candy in his pocket and walking away. When he glanced back, the woman was still standing there with her hand resting on her hip glaring at him.

Disappointment settled in as Jason sat down in his car and closed the door. Not only did he manage to freak out a concerned mother but he missed his appointment as well. Not a good start at all.

Once again, he traced the shape of the candy in his pocket. Who could have given the note to the little boy? Who was watching him? Heaving a tired sigh, he ran his hand down his face and started the car, pulling out into traffic.

Across the way sitting beneath a canopy of trees, a blonde-haired man got up, brushed himself off and jogged toward his car.


tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 6

Isabel Evans stood up and stretched her back. It had been a long day judging by the disarray that surrounded her. Toys and books were stuffed into low cubby holes that were so full that some of the clutter spilt onto the carpeted floor.

A lone pink figure standing in the hallway drew her attention. Isabel glanced at her watch and frowned. It was half past three. Once again the child’s mother was late on picking her up.

“Hi Sam,” Isabel greeted bending down to the child’s level. “Are you waiting for your mom?”

The child nodded.

“Do you want to wait inside?” Isabel asked, “We can play games while you wait.” The little girl smiled and followed her inside the classroom.

Isabel watched as Sam dropped her bag on the floor and pulled out a chair. Inside, Isabel was furious. This was the fourth time in the three weeks that Pam was late in picking up her daughter. Out of all the students in her first grade class, Samantha Walker had to be one of her favorites. She was an inquisitive student but had small behavioral problems. She remembered suggesting to Pam that perhaps her Sam would benefit from seeing a behavioral therapist but Pam dismissed the notion, stating that her child was not a ‘retard’ and that she would report Isabel to the School Board for suggesting such a thing. Ever since that confrontation, Isabel had dropped the subject and avoided talking to Pam whenever she picked up and dropped off her daughter.

When Pam came by a few minutes later, the two older women exchanged disapproving looks. By the time they left, Isabel was more than ready to go home. She was looking forward to going home because tonight was movie night and Alex would be coming over.

For the past ten years, she and Alex had had a strange relationship. He had been there for her when her brother disappeared, providing comfort and friendship, but they hovered on the peripheral of a more intimate relationship. Other than her parents, he was the only other support structure she had. She distanced herself from her high school friends, preferring to sit at home alone or with Alex. She pulled out from all her extra-curricular activities and had postponed going to college. If it wasn’t for Alex’s continuing support, Isabel would have given up altogether. Max’s disappearance devastated her.

It was his encouragement that gave her the push she needed to follow through on her education. However, when it came time for him to go to college he insisted that he stay in town. She knew that he wanted to go to CalTech and it angered her to know that he was giving up his dream to be with her. His decision caused a fight between them to erupt. She had called him all sorts of names she didn’t mean, her intent being to push him away so that he pursue his goal. When he left for California, they had stopped speaking to each other and not a word was exchanged between them for the next six months.

It was the day before Valentine’s Day. Three years had passed since her brother’s disappearance. Even in her tight-knit group, she was beginning to feel isolated. Michael had Maria, while Liz was hell-bent on finding Max. She couldn’t fault Liz for being determined. If she had to admit the truth to herself, Isabel knew that her avoidance of Liz had more to do with her own guilt than Liz’s persistence. Guilt in knowing that there was nothing she could do to save her brother.

She felt that she had had enough of being lonely. She needed a friend. She needed Alex.

On impulse she packed a weekend bag and hopped on the first flight to Los Angeles. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him when she saw him. All she knew was she needed to make things right.

It was a groggy Alex that opened the door to her at 1:00 am on February 14th. They stood on opposite ends of the threshold of Alex’s apartment door both unable to say anything – Isabel from nervousness, Alex from disbelief. Their staring contest was finally broken by the sound of a toilet flushing.

When he invited her in, Isabel poured her heart out, pausing every few minutes to apologize for the things she said to him just before he left. She explained that she did it for his own good. Alex, for his part, listened intently, the years of hanging around two women finally paying off. At the end of that weekend trip, Isabel still came home alone but a sense of peace and acceptance had finally settled over her.


Pulling up to the curb in front of her apartment, she noticed a dark-haired figure sitting on the steps. As she got out of her car, she watched as that person stood up and began walking towards her.

“Liz! What are you doing here?”

To say Isabel was surprised would have been an understatement. For the past five years, she had barely seen Liz step foot outside the Crashdown, preferring to be holed up in her room.

“Um can I speak to you…inside?” Liz asked haltingly. Isabel paused for a beat before nodding her head. As they walked toward her apartment door, Isabel suddenly felt anxious. What could have brought this up? She knew Liz had avoided their group like the plague. It had to be something important for her to actually initiate a visit, let alone a conversation.

As soon as Isabel closed the door, Liz began pacing the living room. Isabel shrugged and dropped her stuff on the desk by the far wall.

Ever the gracious hostess, she offered Liz a drink, which the diminutive girl declined. Isabel eased herself onto an armchair and watched as Liz wore a hole through her hardwood floors.

As a teacher, Isabel learned that it paid to be patient; that the best results came when you eased a child along rather than force him or her to conform to change. She applied that knowledge now, preferring to sit silently and wait for Liz to speak.

“It’s probably nothing, but what if it’s not,” Liz muttered to herself. Suddenly, she stopped closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened her eyes again, she turned and met Isabel’s concerned gaze head on.

“Someone came in the Crashdown today. A man. I’ve never seen him before.” Liz sighed and slumped her shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon. I just can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

Liz looked down at the floor, trying to center her thoughts. “I think we may have a problem,” she pronounced ominously.

Isabel cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“This new guy is suspicious,” Liz stated.

“How so?” Isabel asked. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Liz; it’s just that many years have passed since they encountered the FBI or any other alien groups. Ever since Nasedo and Tess left town, there hadn’t been any otherworldly incidences that occurred.

“What do you mean?” Liz asked, irritated at Isabel’s line of questioning.

“Well, I mean do you have any proof? Did he do something to arouse your suspicion?” Isabel tried to keep the interrogational tone out of her voice. She knew Liz wasn’t well and was afraid that she was now beginning to suffer from paranoid delusions.

Liz scrutinized Isabel’s face for any signs of disbelief. She knew what Isabel must think of her, but she was certain that she wasn’t imagining this threat. She felt it in her bones. There just wasn’t something right about that stranger. She just couldn’t pinpoint what that feeling was. All she knew was that his presence made her uncomfortable, like there was something nagging at the back of her mind.

“Well for one thing, I saw him dousing his coffee and eggs with Tabasco,” Liz huffed, crossing her arms across her chest defensively.

Isabel closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t want to hurt Liz’s feelings but she had had enough of the alien abyss and was ready to leave it behind her, however impossible that may be.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Isabel shook her head. “We’re in the southwest, Liz. People like things spicy.”

“But it’s not the same. I felt it,” Liz said with conviction. She opened her mouth about to tell Isabel that her powers were triggered when she caught herself and stopped. She didn’t know why but she didn’t feel like sharing that information with anyone, even Isabel.

Isabel pushed herself up off the chair. “Liz I really don’t think that – ”

“Iz, listen to me,” Liz interrupted, “I really think there’s something going on here. I know you don’t believe me but what if this gives us a lead on Him. This person could be working for the FBI or maybe an alien faction. What if it helps us find Max!” Liz exclaimed, her eyes growing wide, a crazy sort of excitement flashing behind them.

Isabel whimpered as if struck. “My brother is dead, Liz. Dead. The sooner you can accept that, the sooner you can move on,” she turned and walked to the door. “I think you better leave.”

The two women stood their ground as they stared at each other. There seemed to be no words left to say. For a time after Max’s disappearance, their relationship had been close. Giving each other comfort at their time of need. However, without Max bridging the two of them together, they drifted further and further apart. Now it seemed that they had come to a turning point. Isabel had been able to move on while Liz had not.

Slowly, as if wearing lead shoes, Liz walked toward the opened door. She glanced at Isabel’s face one more time before walking away, her resolve hardening once again. She squared her shoulders and steeled her back. She didn’t need them. She didn’t need anybody.


Isabel watched Liz walk away through her gauzy curtains. Wiping an errant tear that ran down her cheek, she slumped down on the sofa and curled into a ball. When was she ever going to leave the ghost of her brother behind? All she wanted to do was live her life. She had been where Liz was. Hoping, wishing, and insisting that Max was alive. The night of his disappearance she was able to dreamwalk him, but that had been short and confusing. He had been incoherent, unable to help her find him. She tried again and again but was unable to form a connection. His consciousness drifted away until their link was severed altogether. She joined Liz in her search, they all did, but after years of fruitless searching she knew that it was hopeless. She couldn’t form a connection because there was no connection to be formed.

Her brother was gone.

<center>* * *</center>

Liz pounded the pavement, anger and determination once more stirring her blood. Inside, her mind was whirling. She could no longer rely on Isabel to help her, but perhaps Michael or Maria might be more willing.

By the time she reached Michael and Maria’s apartment, she was out of breath. Just as she raised her fist to knock, the door was pulled open by a laughing Maria.

“Liz! What are you doing here?” Maria asked, clearly in shock at seeing her elusive best friend standing on her doorstep.

“Hi. May I come in?” Liz flashed a brief, wan smile.

“Oh, um…sure, sure,” Maria stepped aside to let her in.

“Maria, who’s at the door?” Michael asked, pulling a shirt over his head as he stepped out of the bathroom. “Oh! Hi, Liz.”

Liz nodded her head in greeting.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Maria stepped up to her friend, concern etching her features. “Is anything wrong?”

The phone’s sudden ringing broke the tension in the room. Michael grabbed the cordless phone off its cradle and walked toward the bedroom.

“I’m okay, Maria,” Liz responded, watching Michael speak to the caller in hushed tones.

“Are you sure? You’re looking really flushed. Are you coming down with something?” Maria moved her hand to feel her friend’s forehead but Liz flinched and moved away. Hurt, Maria lowered her hand and backed off. A deep sadness washed over her. It seemed like so long ago since she shared a conversation, let alone physical contact, with Liz. She tried to continue their friendship but it seemed she was the only one trying. Since Max’s disappearance, Liz erected a thick impenetrable wall to block off her emotions. She was worried for her friend.

“Do you want to sit down?” Maria asked resigned to drop the subject for the time being. It was futile to push Liz. She knew from experience that it would only cause Liz to push back. Gone was the sweet, studious girl she knew in high school. She had been replaced by the defensive, angry woman currently standing in Maria’s living room.

As she stood there watching Liz fidget, Maria wondered if she would ever get her best friend back.



tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 7

Liz sagged down into the sofa, her fatigue showing on her face. She needed to convince Michael and Maria to help her. Logically, she knew that it would be much easier if there was more than one person to look after this stranger, but if push came to shove, she was prepared to do it by herself. After all, it had been her who had knocked on Tess’ door all those years ago when the fourth alien first came to town.

It had been quite some time since anything to do with alien abyss breezed into town. For a while after Max’s disappearance, the FBI had been in town under the guise of investigating the case. However, only the tight-knit group knew the real reason why there were there. Why else would their investigation turn up absolutely nothing? In the end, Max’s case was declared a cold case and relegated to the archives.

“Maria, can I talk to you for a sec?” Michael asked covering the mouthpiece on the phone.

“What is it, Michael?” Maria frowned, irritated at Michael for interrupting.

“Just get over here, will ya!” Michael barked.

“Sorry,” Maria gave Liz an apologetic look before grudgingly shuffling her way to Michael.

Liz watched as Michael and Maria conversed quietly. Every few seconds Maria would glare at Michael and gesture toward Liz. When they finally broke apart, Michael went back to bedroom to wrap up his phone call and Maria came back and sat down.

“Is everything okay?” Liz asked curiously.

“Oh yeah, yeah. Everything is fine,” Maria said dismissively.

Liz nodded her head and looked away. She knew her friend was lying to her but she didn’t know why.

A moment later, Michael came back into the living room and tossed the phone on cushion beside Maria.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked, leaning back against the breakfast counter. After that phone call, he was more worried for Liz than he was ever before. Isabel had called upset. She said that Liz had just left her apartment, freaking out about some new tourist in town. Liz seemed to think that this person was either an alien or an undercover FBI agent. Isabel had dismissed Liz’s suspicion as nothing more than paranoia, but Michael wasn’t quite as flippant as Isabel when it came to all things alien.

It had been him who sneaked into Valenti’s office all those years ago to steal a key that eventually lead them to Atterton’s dome in Marathon, Texas. He had been the one who followed River Dog into sweat lodge, setting off a series of events which lead into the discovery of the cave and the healing stones. In all those instances, he had set off on his own initiative on a journey of self-discovery. He hadn’t let fear stop him.

Now, he felt like he owed Liz the benefit of the doubt. After all, as Max’s best friend, it was his responsibility to look after Liz.

He knew that Liz Parker would never betray their trust. He had been suspicious at first. It wasn’t until after he read her journal that his mistrust was allayed. It seemed that that his trust was again to be called upon. Could he trust her? Could Isabel be right? It put Michael in a precarious position.

“I just wanted to talk to the two of you,” Liz began, “I just need you to listen to me and not say anything until I finish.” She looked at her two friends imploringly.

“I was working the breakfast shift this morning when a man came in,” Liz looked away, her eyes staring blankly into space as she recalled that morning’s events. “I knew he was a tourist from the way he looked at everything. I didn’t think anything of it, until I saw him pull out his laptop.”

“Was he FBI?” Maria asked nervously, thinking back of the incident with Topolsky, but Liz merely shook her head.

“I don’t think so. When I brought him his order, he did the most peculiar thing. I saw him put Tabasco in his food and his coffee.”

“How can you be sure he’s anyone of suspect?” Michael asked.

Liz looked at him for a moment before looking away.

“I can’t explain it. I just got this weird feeling when he was around,” Liz shivered recalling that morning’s events.

Maria looked at her friend incredulously. After all these years, Liz still wouldn’t let go. Maria couldn’t really blame her. She knew how Liz felt about Max and if what she felt for Michael was anything close to that, then she knew she’d probably have the same reaction as Liz. But still, it’s been almost a decade since his disappearance.

“Other than the Tabasco, did he do anything else?” Maria leaned forward, hoping that Liz would have more to base her suspicions on. Their eyes met and Liz looked down before shaking her head.

Michael sighed and pulled a stool beneath him. He had always been the impulsive one in their group. The one to act first and ask questions later, but years of experience and his best friend’s disappearance had changed all that. Since Max wasn’t there to act as the voice of reason and Liz was too deep in her grief to dispense advice, Michael had to learn to rein it in.

He learned the value of patience and careful thought. It had been years now since they last had a threat. He had taken it upon himself to look out for their tightly-knit group. No one in the group knew that he kept in contact with Nasedo, and he didn’t feel inclined to tell them. After all, he didn’t want to interrupt the normalcy that had settled over their lives.

Taking a fortifying breath, Michael spoke. “What do you want to do about this, Liz?”

Liz opened her mouth but nothing came out. For once in her life she didn’t have a plan and it scared her.

She compulsively tucked her hair behind her ear as she thought of a plan. She wanted to know who this stranger was and what his business in Roswell was. She knew she needed to follow him but didn’t know how or where she would start. Maybe ten years ago, it would have been easier; she would have known what to do, but the years hadn’t been kind to her. They had left her nervous and confused – unable to concentrate. Still, she was determined to do this with our without anyone’s help. She owed it to Him.

“I think we should follow him,” Liz replied biting back her tears of frustration. She looked up at Michael who waited before slowly nodding his head, followed by Maria. Inside of her, a tight knot slowly began to unwind. They believed her! This was her chance to prove that she wasn’t crazy.

“Did you happen to find out how long he’s here for?” Michael asked.

Liz shook her head.

Michael pursed his lips to keep from sighing. He really hoped that Isabel wasn’t right about Liz.

“Okay. If he is here for a while I’m sure he’ll be at the Crashdown tomorrow morning,” Michael stated.

“How can you be so sure?” Maria looked at him skeptically.

“There aren’t many other cafés near downtown Roswell, Maria,” Michael replied the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Besides, if he asks anyone around town where the best place to eat is, they’ll point him to the same direction.” Michael crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back, confident in his statement. After all, he did do a brief stint as a short-order cook at the café before he got his security job.

“How do you propose to tail him, hmmm? You’re working all week, so am I,” Maria quipped before turning her eyes on Liz.

“Well, I could ask for some time off,” suggested Michael.

“Michael, you’re already in trouble for being late. Do you really want to add this to the list? We can’t afford to have you get fired,” Maria argued.

“No, I’ll do it,” Liz said sighing. “I suggested it. It’s only right that I follow through with it.”

“Liz, we – ” Maria began to protest but Liz held up her hand and cut Maria off.

“No, it’s okay. I understand. You have a life. Michael has a life. I don’t expect the two of you to put that on hold for this,” Liz explained. Although she understood, she couldn’t help the bitter tone that her voice took.

How can everyone just forget Max? Forget what he meant to them. Couldn’t they see that He was still alive? He couldn’t be dead! She just wouldn’t accept it.

“Liz we really do want to help,” Maria said pleadingly. She felt guilty for letting her friend down.

Liz nodded but she felt unsettled. Slowly, she could feel desperation and anger mingling within her, making her breathing erratic and palms sweaty.

“I better go then,” Liz said, pushing herself up off the couch. She turned to leave but was stopped when she felt someone’s hand on her arm. She looked up and saw Maria looking at her with remorse.

“Liz, please don’t be like this,” Maria pleaded.

“Like what, Maria?” Liz bit back, her voice hardening. “Like my friends don’t believe me? Like they don’t think I know they think I’m crazy?! Like I’m disgusted by their acceptance of Max’s disappearance, their abandonment of him?! Like that, huh? Is that what you mean?”

Suddenly, a small shock, like a blast of static electricity, zapped Maria’s hand where it was resting on Liz. She let go of Liz’s arm and recoiled. Her green eyes fixed on her best friend’s flushed face.

“You all seem to have forgotten what Max did for us. What he was to us. How can you abandon him?” She turned and glared at Michael. “Michael, have you forgotten what he did for you? How he helped you when you were hurt? How he always looked out for you?”

Liz snorted in disbelief. “I guess I’m the only one who still believes.”

Liz turned, yanking open the door. She took a last look at her friends’ shameful expressions before slamming the door shut behind her.

The sound of the slamming door prompted Michael into action. He jumped up off the kitchen stool and strode toward the door. However, Maria’s voice stopped him from following Liz.

“Don’t. Just leave her, Michael,” Maria advised.

“But she’s upset,” Michael objected, confused as to why Maria wouldn’t want to go after her best friend.

Maria sighed and crossed her arms. “That’s exactly it. She’s upset. She’s not going to welcome any of our concern right now.”

Maria looked out the window and watched Liz walk away.

“Do you believe her?” She whispered, biting her lip in anxiety.

“I don’t know,” replied Michael as he came up to stand beside her. “I want to but I don’t, you know.”

Maria looked up at him questioningly.

“I mean if what she’s saying is true, we should listen to her because this person can be threat to us and if this person is FBI then maybe he might have some clues as to…what happened to Max.” Michael let out a shuddering breath.

“It’s also the same reason why I don’t want to believe her. I mean, we just got our lives back together. Isabel is teaching and is finally living again. And us…well, we’re managing to live somewhat normally. To reintroduce the whole alien chaos again…,” Michael shook his head.

“Liz really upset Isabel. She’s convinced that Liz is going too far this time. She thinks maybe Liz should be committed,” Michael explained.

Maria’s eyes widened at Michael’s statement. She was surprised that Isabel would say such a thing. Of all people, she thought that Isabel would be the most understanding of the situation. Liz was still consumed by grief. It clearly was affecting her logic, but not to the point where she should be institutionalized.

“She’s not insane, Michael!” Maria said angrily. “She loves him. I can’t fault her for that. God! I don’t know what I would do if it was you.” She leaned her head against the crook of his shoulder. In reaction, Michael put his arm around her and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I’ll drop by the Crashdown tomorrow after work. My shift ends at 7:00 am so I’ll pop by for breakfast, okay?” Michael rubbed her arm in assurance.

“Thanks,” Maria whispered, taking comfort in his warmth.



TBC...

[CME]

Chapter 8

Jason pulled up to the parking stall and cut the engine of his rented Honda Civic. He took a deep breath and hit the steering wheel with his palms in frustration. Not only had his afternoon had been wasted but now it seemed at least two people were following him.

At first he had been nervous and worried when he got the note at the park, but that worry had turned to irritation when it dawned on him that whoever wrote that note was following him too!

Based on the amount of subterfuge going on around him he had a feeling that the story with the FBI went deeper than misappropriated funds. His reporter instinct suddenly went on high alert. What else could this involve? Conspiracy theorists worldwide would have a field day just on the innuendos alone. It was his job to sort fact from fiction. He decided he would start by calling his editor. He trusted Richard and knew that he’d be able to give some advice as to how he should proceed.

Grabbing his briefcase, he exited the car and made his way up the stairs to his motel room.

As soon as he inserted his key into the lock and stepped into the room, a hand shot out from behind door covering his mouth while an arm wrapped around his shoulder pushing him down to the floor. Caught off guard, Jason tried to fight back but his efforts were futile. Next thing he knew, he found himself lying face down on the rough carpet with a knee lodged in the middle of his back.

He wiggled trying to get out from the stronghold when he heard the telltale click of a gun.

“Don’t move,” a female voice commanded.

Jason froze his breathing coming out in gasps. He closed his eyes and prayed for his life.

“State your name and rank!” The person ordered, but Jason did not respond.

“I said, state your name and rank!” Jason felt the knee on his back dig a little deeper causing him to grunt in pain.

He felt his stomach knot in fear when he felt the cold steel of the gun brush against the side of his head. “My name’s Jason Stevens and I work for the Washington Post!”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the pressure on his back was released and the gun was pulled back. He waited a second before he moved at all, making sure that he wasn’t going to be attacked again.

He heard some rustling and suddenly the bedside lamp flicked on draping part of the room with light.

He rolled over and pushed himself to sit up, wincing when he felt a shooting pain in his back. That definitely was going to bruise in the morning. His eyes scanned the room and stopped when he saw his assailant pressed against the wall peeking covertly at the window into the parking lot below.

Jason’s first reaction at his attacker’s appearance was surprise. He was astonished that a 5’7” woman was able to take him down. He liked to think of himself as healthy and fit but the past few minutes was slowly making him rethink that opinion.

“Did you know you’ve had a tail on you since nine o’clock this morning?” the dark-haired woman asked.

Jason didn’t reply but merely stared at her as he rubbed the back of his neck.

The woman turned to face him and Jason finally got a good look at her face. She was young, probably in her thirties and pretty. She had a pair of thick, dark-framed glasses shielding her eyes. She didn’t look threatening at all except for the nickel-plated Beretta she held in her right hand.

“Sorry about your back,” she apologized when she saw Jason wince when he stood up. “I wasn’t too sure who it was at the door and you can never be too careful.”

“Who- who are you?” Jason questioned, nervously looking at the intruder.

“Me? I’m just a ghost,” the woman replied cryptically before casting another furtive glance at the window. She turned and caught Jason staring at her questioningly.

“How did you get in here?” Jason asked as he edged his way to the door.

“Same way you did. Through the door,” she answered dismissively. “So about that shadow…,” she caught Jason reaching for the door knob. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m a lot nicer than the guy waiting for you on the other side of that door.”

Jason dropped his hand as if burned and visibly swallowed. He had no idea who or what this woman wanted but he could tell she knew what she was doing.

“Sit down,” she ordered, gesturing to the bed with the hand that was carrying the gun. Jason raised his arms in surrender as he slowly eased himself onto the bed.

“You got any ID?” She inquired circling around him.

“In my wallet, in my back pocket” Jason replied.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Fine. I want you to get it. Slowly. Any sudden movements and my little shiny friend here,” she patted the Beretta in her hand, “gets a little excited.”

Jason nodded in understanding. Slowly, keeping one arm up in the air, he reached behind him and pulled out his wallet. He presented it to her and watched as she rummaged through it looking for his ID. When she was satisfied he was who he said he was, she tossed the wallet back at him and drew back her gun.

“Huh, an honest reporter. Go figure,” she huffed, stuffing the gun back on the holster on her side. “How was the candy?” She asked dropping down on the armchair near the door.

“What are you talking about?” Jason looked at her peculiarly. She merely raised her eyebrow and drew her eyes to the scattered contents of his nylon briefcase lying on the floor. He followed her line of sight until it landed on the object of her attention.

The green lollipop.

“Was that you at the park?” Jason raked a hand through his hair causing it to stand at odd angles.

The woman nodded.

“How long have you been following me?” He asked wearily.

“Since you got off the plane,” she replied.

Jason was dumbfounded. How could he not have noticed someone following him? Was he now in danger?

“Who the hell are you?” Jason breathed.

“I’m the one you’re looking for,” the woman replied.

Jason paused in thought. “You’re the FBI leak?” he asked in disbelief.

The woman nodded and got up, moving toward the window. She peeked from behind the curtain at the nondescript black sedan parked in the corner of the lot. Only one tail. She hoped that they weren’t going to send the big guns in after the reporter. If they did, then it added another ‘challenge’ to the equation.

“Are you an agent?” Jason asked causing the woman to turn and face him. She couldn’t help the little smile that twitched the corner of her lip when she saw that he had pulled out a notebook and pen and began taking notes as they spoke.

She shook her head. “No, I was never a Fed. Worked closely with them though, that’s why I’m in this mess.

“I was in the Air Force. Lieutenant Connie Griffin. I served in Iraq in the medical unit. I was promoted after the war. A year later I was approached by a high ranking Air Force official and told that I was getting another promotion. I was recruited to join an elite group that belonged to a top secret organization run by the FBI, USAF, US Army, and the NSA. I was told I was going to be doing research for the good of the country. Little did I know what that research entailed.” Connie Griffin let out a tired breath. “These bastards don’t take well to turncoats.”

Jason paused in his note-taking and looked up. For the first time he was able to really see his attacker. She took off her glasses and slumped against the wall. With those two gestures, Jason’s initial opinion of her changed. He now saw her as the prey rather than the hunter.

“How long have you been running?” Jason whispered, eyeing her tired form.

“Too long,” she replied, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Two long years.” She looked up at Jason who watched her with interest, his notes laid on the bed forgotten.

Connie glanced at her watch. “I’ve swept your room for bugs. Nothing as of now, but that can easily change.” She pushed herself up off the wall and moved toward the door. “Be careful and always watch your back. You don’t know these people like I do.”

“Wait! Where are you going?” Jason asked in a panic when he saw that she was about to leave.

“I have to go,” she rushed, her eyes scanning the opened hallway.

“How will I find you?” Jason was afraid to lose his only link to the story. What if she didn’t want to work with him anymore? He couldn’t lose his only opportunity to make a name for himself.

“Don’t worry,” she answered, “I’ll find you.” And with that she closed the door behind her.

Jason sat on the bed and frowned. He wasn’t too sure what had just happened. One minute he was walking into his motel room, the next he was confronted by some sort of rogue Air Force lieutenant who claims that she’s his informant.

It took him a few minutes but his investigative instincts kicked back in and he leapt into action. He got up off the bed and grabbed the laptop that was sitting on top of the dresser.

He powered up his computer and initiated his wireless connection search engine. When it found a signal, he opened up his web browser and logged in to his email account. He quickly fired off an email to Richard Lee, assuring his editor that he was still on top of the story. After checking his emails, he brought up Google and typed in Connie Griffin’s name and waited. A second later a list of websites flashed onto the screen.

He clicked on the first entry and came up with nothing, the same with the second and the third sites. He sifted through all the entries and couldn’t come up with a hit. He lifted his fingers off the keyboard and scratched his eyebrow in thought. He needed to refine his search. He typed, LIEUTENANT CONSTANCE GRIFFIN and pressed enter. A moment later a new list of sites came up.

He clicked on the first link.

It was a two-year old article from the Lake County Examiner. It reported that a fatal car accident occurred near the California/Oregon border. A car had veered off the highway and had tumbled down an embankment and into a ravine. Its only occupant, an Air Force Lieutenant named Constance Griffin who was home on vacation, had been killed instantly. An investigation had ensued when fire and rescue were unable to recover her body. The Air Force and the FBI became involved and it was later determined that the explosion that had occurred minutes after impact had been so strong that it disintegrated her body. She had been given a veteran’s memorial and the case was closed.

Jason read on hoping to find some clues as to who this Lieutenant was.

The article provided a brief personal history on Lieutenant Griffin.

Her father had been an Air Force captain who had been missing in action since 2003. Her mother had passed away from cancer when she was fourteen years old. She had served in Iraq in the medical unit and was captured by enemy forces during a mission. She escaped during transport and managed to survive for five days alone in the desert with only a canteen of water.

The article contained a picture of a young, blonde cadet in full dress uniform smiling proudly at the camera. The girl in the picture looked far differently than the woman who had just left his room.

Slowly, like a fog being lifted, Jason began to recognize her story and her name. He remembered being in college and watching news reports of her story. He wondered what had happened to her to bring her to her present condition. What could have turned a celebrated war hero to a hunted deserter and how was she connected to the FBI budget scandal?

Jason felt like a kid on Christmas Eve as he got ready for bed. He had a feeling something big was about to come his way and he couldn’t wait!


Outside the motel room in the quiet parking lot, Agent Paul Bernard powered up his T250 searching for his Wi-Fi connection. He shifted in his seat as he waited. He ran a hand through blonde hair that was mussed from his earlier adventures in the park. Slowly, he let out a relieved breath. That stupid dog had almost blown his cover. If it hadn’t attacked him and drawn attention, his target would have never seen him. He was grateful for the little kid that distracted his target’s attention. If Pierce ever got hold of his fumble, he knew he’d be done.

This was his first big assignment under the Special Unit and he wanted to impress the chief operative. Actually, the drive to succeed in this mission was more due to fear than the need to impress.

He heard from the other agents of Pierce’s temper. They told him that Pierce doesn’t just fire you, he destroyed you. There were rumors of busts going wrong and an agent being killed. Agents that had been on Pierce’s black list.

Agent Bernard knew that Pierce was one of those unpredictable types of people. He was like a snake – someone who struck suddenly and without mercy and he didn’t want to be the next victim.

Finally, his computer beeped indicating that it was ready for transmission. As he focused his concentration on the computer screen before him, he missed the dark-clad figure that furtively jogged down the stairs and away from the motel.


tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 9

Michael walked into the diner, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the change in lighting. His shift at Metachem had been uneventful as usual. In fact, if it weren’t for the friends that he’d made there he doubted that he would have been able to stay awake to finish his shift.

He scanned the restaurant for an empty booth. Luckily, he spotted one near the kitchen in the back. The location was perfect. It would let him keep an eye at the front door.

“Hi, Mr. Parker. How’s it going?” Michael greeted as he passed by Liz’s father.

Jeff Parker looked up and waved Michael toward the empty booth. “Michael, my favorite ex-employee,” he joked. “Just grab a seat and I’ll be with you in a sec.”

Michael nodded and slid into a vinyl covered seat. Looking around he noticed that it was particularly busy for a Tuesday morning. There were some familiar faces but most of the customers he figured were tourists visiting for the Sci-fi festival being held that weekend.

Come to think of it, he’d actually forgotten about the Sci-fi Festival. Liz’s suspicious tourist might just be a reporter sent in to cover the event. In which case, they didn’t have any reason to be worried.

“So Michael, what’ll it be?” Jeff asked, suddenly popping up beside his table.

Michael took a cursory look at the menu. He’d been coming here for years and knew the menu like the back of his hand. He was just going to order coffee but he figured he might as well eat while he was waiting for Liz’s stranger to show up, and speaking of Liz…

“Mr. Parker, is Liz working today?”

Jeff stopped mid-stride and turned back to Michael. “No, her mom and I gave her today off. She didn’t look well last night,” he said sadly.

Michael nodded his head in understanding recalling yesterday’s events.

“Do you think it’ll be okay if I visit her after breakfast?” Michael asked. He wanted to check on Liz to see if she was okay. He knew that Maria was worried about her best friend and frankly, so was he.

“I don’t know if she’ll be up for some company but its okay with me,” Jeff replied before walking away to place Michael’s order.

Michael nodded and thought about Jeff’s comment. He wondered if their conversation with Liz yesterday had caused her to relapse back into her depression. He hadn’t really said much to anyone about how much he actually cared about Liz’s well being. He hadn’t mentioned that he suspected that Liz might be self-destructive. After all, he could relate to that. He just hoped that once and for all they could put an end to the mystery of Max’s disappearance. They all needed closure, most especially Liz.

When his food arrived, he hurried through it while trying to keep an eye out for any suspicious looking tourists. After an hour, Liz still hadn’t come down to the restaurant and he hadn’t seen anyone suspicious walk in. Making up his mind, he stood up and made his way over to the cash register to settle his tab.

“Don’t worry about it, Michael. It’s on the house,” Jeff waved him off when he saw Michael pull out his wallet.

“Thanks, Mr. Parker,” Michael smiled, grateful for the older man’s generosity. “I’m just going to pop upstairs and say hello to Liz.”

“Nancy’s gone for a supply run so the door’s unlocked. Just let yourself in,” Jeff nodded in the direction of the kitchen door.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later,” Michael turned and headed toward the back room.

As he stepped into the Parker residence, he felt a pang of uncertainty. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Liz. He had given her the benefit of the doubt, yet he didn’t see any proof that the stranger she described existed. He hoped that by the time he opened the door to Liz’s room he’d come up with something resembling a plan.

“Liz?” he called, softly knocking on her bedroom door. He waited a beat and knocked again. When he didn’t receive an answer, he slowly opened the door and called out her name.

As usual, Liz’s room was neat and organize, almost sterile looking. Her books were stacked on her desk in a utilitarian manner. Not a thing was misplaced. The room was dark, the morning sun being blocked out by the billowing curtains. In the corner of the room sat an old wooden bookshelf with shelves upon shelves of biology, chemistry, and astronomy books.

He often wondered what would have happened if Max hadn’t been kidnapped. Would Liz have gone to college rather than just getting her GED? Would he have stayed with Maria or would he have run out of town like he’d planned? Would Isabel be married and happy or would she still be tiptoeing around a relationship?

Sighing, he looked around the room until his gaze landed on the bulky figure beneath the bundle of blankets on the bed. He padded toward it calling Liz’s name. Reaching forward, he was about to tap Liz to wake her up but thought better of it and withdrew his hand. Perhaps she needed a rest. They hadn’t made it easy for her yesterday. He figured that she was probably still angry at them and he waking her up might just make it worse.

Slowly, he backed out of the room shutting the door behind him.

Little did Michael know that there was nothing beneath the blankets but pillows, the occupant of the bed long gone.


Liz walked down the street in no particular direction. She had lied to her parents that morning stating that she didn’t feel well. She needed to get out of her morning shift at the diner in order to look for the man from yesterday. She waited until her parents had been down in the café for an hour before she sneaked out of her room. Unfortunately, she didn’t anticipate her mother going shopping for supplies and taking the car with her, leaving Liz without an easy form of transportation.

When she woke up that morning, she felt a strange, familiar energy in her blood, giving her purpose. It was something she hadn’t felt for a very long time. It woke her up at dawn and wouldn’t let her go back to sleep, gnawing at her until she got up and out of bed. She had sat up on her balcony and watched as the sun made its way up from the horizon ushering in a new day.

She felt a little strange and disconnected. She didn’t understand what it was that motivated her to get up at the crack of dawn. All she knew was that it was insistent. Maybe it was this new person in town. Maybe the prospect of investigating was what was fueling her uneasiness. Maybe all this time it hadn’t been depression that had afflicted her but merely boredom; the mundanity of living in a small town, where everyone knew and was in each other’s business.

She rubbed her eyes and scanned the heavens above, watching as the last flickering stars twinkled their last hurrah before the light of the morning sun sent them back to slumber. She remembered a time long ago when she looked toward these same stars with awe and hope, thinking about the one who held her heart. Which one was his home? It fascinated her hungry mind to no end. But in the end all that idealism was wiped out by a single violent act. Maybe that’s why she was so fixated on this stranger. Maybe by pursuing him she can bring closure to her pain.

She hadn’t the clue as to where she would start. She didn’t know where this man was staying or for how long. For all she knew, he might have just been passing through town. She hadn’t even had a good look at him. She’d just have to canvass every hotel and motel in town and hope that he was staying at one of them.

Liz looked up and saw the familiar scrawl on the shop window a few doors ahead. Aromatherapy it read. Quickly, Liz looked at her watch and was relieved to see that it was a little before nine o’clock which meant that Maria wouldn’t be opening shop quite yet. Liz really didn’t feel like talking to anyone of her ‘friends’ today. She didn’t need their pity or sympathy, not after yesterday. If they didn’t want to help her then that was fine, but they better not try to stop her.

Liz quickly swiped at the sweat forming on her brow and upper lip. It was going to be a warm day today. A few shops down she saw a man hoisting a banner up in front of his store window. Liz quickly read it and paused mid-stride when she caught sight of the man from yesterday speaking quickly into a cell phone.

He looked haggard, she observed. He had on a collared olive shirt and wrinkled khakis pants. She couldn’t hear what he was saying into the phone but his face had a look of intense concentration. She noticed that he was walking towards her but he was too busy in his conversation to take any heed. She was just about to cross the street in order to avoid him when he suddenly ended his conversation, shutting his phone closed and looked up, straight into her eyes.

They both stopped and stood rooted to their spots, their mouths forming O’s of surprise. A moment later, his lips relaxed and the corners of his mouth rose up to form a friendly smile.

“Hello,” he greeted.

Liz wasn’t exactly sure what she should do. Her intention was to find him and follow him but she didn’t know where to start. As luck would have it, she ended up running into him in the middle of town. It felt too easy. She felt a sudden lurch in her stomach – her nervousness had runneth over.

Before she could stop it, before she could even comprehend what she was about to do, her mouth opened and a rumble that sounded vaguely like her voice came out.

“Hi.”

Her hand rose to her throat, angry that her body betrayed her mind. This wasn’t what she had planned at all. How was she supposed to investigate him if he was aware of her presence?

She watched as his expression turned from joy to concern.

“Are you okay?”

He moved closer to her until he was standing directly in front of her. He bent forward to look at her closely.

Liz was alarmed at his proximity. He was too close. Consciously, she took a step back and looked up. For the first time, she got a good look at his face. He was handsome. His rugged looks accented by his trim goatee. But it was his eyes that shocked her, that took her breath away.

They were a light shade of brown, with mossy undertones, framed by thick, dark lashes. They warm and familiar yet strange and distant at the same time. They reminded her of a time of innocence, of the pursuit of self-discovery, something she had hidden and long forgotten.

She felt her lungs burning and quickly realized that she had been holding her breath. She blinked, suddenly remembering that he had asked her a question.

“Sorry. Wha-what did you say?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I asked if you we’re okay.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah I’m fine,” Liz hurriedly replied. She noticed that he respected her space and stood a couple of feet away from her.

“That’s good,” he smiled at her again. “I’m Jason, by the way,” he held out his hand in greeting.

Liz looked at his proffered hand not knowing if she should shake it.

“I’m Liz,” she replied holding her hand up in a small wave, thus avoiding shaking his hand.

She watched as his face displayed a look of confusion and slight embarrassment as he slowly pulled his hand back and stuffed it in the pocket of his pants. Liz felt a twinge of guilt at having acted so rude to him.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed them as they assessed each other up.


Jason’s eyes roamed the face of the attractive woman standing in front him. A woman whose name, he learned, was Liz. He noticed that she had the look of the typical small town girl, sweet and unassuming. However, her dark, fathomless eyes held a degree of aloofness. It was what prompted him to respect the distance that she took from him.

It surprised him when she refused to shake his hand. He always thought that people from small towns were warm and friendly. Apparently, Liz broke from that mold.

As he awkwardly stood in the middle of the sidewalk, he felt intrigued by this dark-haired woman. What was it about her that nagged at him so? What was it about her that made him forget about the stranger from last night and the person following him? Whatever it was, he intended to find out. He took a breath and flashed her his most welcoming smile.

“Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me?”


tbc...

[CME]

Chapter 10

Agent Paul Bernard rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he watched the couple on the sidewalk interact. Checking his watch, he briefly noted the time in his logbook before gazing back out the window.

He watched as Subject B, a reporter named Jason Stevens, chatted up a local girl. He didn’t understand what Pierce’s fascination with this subject was. He’d seen the other specimens in the lab and they were much more interesting than Jason Stevens, in Bernard’s own opinion. Why spend the money and man power following a reporter around? Sometimes he really didn’t understand Pierce.

If truth be told, Bernard thought that the Special Unit was a joke. In fact, if it wasn’t for his sincere dedication to the Bureau he would have quit the assignment years ago.

He looked back out the window and saw that his Subject was on the move. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and tie and loosened the buttons on his shirt, before stepping out of the car. Carefully, he followed them down the street, making sure to keep a good distance away from them. Thinking back on yesterday, Agent Bernard realized it might not have been the best idea to stalk his subject wearing a suit and tie. It made him stand out in a tourist town like Roswell. He made a mental note to buy some shorts when he got a chance. He hoped that Pierce sent his relief agent in soon. He hated having to sleep in the car.

Up ahead, he watched as Jason and the girl walked into a café. He quickly looked around for a cover and saw that he was in luck when he spotted a bus bench nearby. He jogged over to it, grabbed a newspaper from the paper box and settled in to watch Subject B.


<center>* * *</center>


Liz watched Jason stop, pull the door open and hold it for her. She nodded her head in thanks and tried to shrug off the uneasy feeling that settled over her.

As they approached a table, she saw him dart from behind her to pull out her chair. She frowned but still accepted the offered seat. She wasn’t used to anyone pulling out chairs and opening doors for her. Nobody had done that since…well, she didn’t want to think about that. She needed to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. She couldn’t afford to let her memories affect her, not when she had information to dig up.

“So is the town always this busy?” Jason asked, settling into his chair.

“Uh, no. The tourists are here for the Sci-fi Festival this weekend,” Liz replied.

“Oh?” Jason perked up.

Liz arched an eyebrow. “Why? Are you a Trekkie?”

Jason chuckled and leaned back against his chair. “No, not particularly. I’m more into criminal dramas.”

“I see,” Liz nodded, her mind working quickly. “So, what is it you do?”

“I’m a reporter,” Jason replied.

“Tabloid, magazine or newspaper?” Liz quickly fired off.

Jason laughed and held up his hands in defense. “No, no. I’m totally legit. I work for the Washington Post.”

Liz watched him, keeping her eyes trained on his gestures. Could he be telling the truth?

“So are you here to report on the Festival?”

“Oh no. I’m a political reporter,” Jason went on to explain. “I cover political events, rallies, those sorts of things. But enough about me. Let’s order our drinks and you can tell me all about yourself.”

That was the last thing Liz wanted to do. She still didn’t know who he was. He could still possibly pose a danger to the group.

“What you see is really what you get,” Liz replied, leaning back into her chair. She needed to make him trust her enough to reveal any pertinent information.

“So how long have you worked at the diner?” Jason asked, taking a tentatively sip of his coffee.

“Practically my whole life,” Liz sighed. “My parents own it.”

She saw Jason raise an eyebrow as he sipped his cup. Liz slowly felt heat creep up her body as she continued to gaze at his eyes. They looked so familiar, so warm and inviting. They reminded her of another pair of eyes that she spent countless amounts of hours staring at. She tried to shake the feeling reminding herself that this person was a stranger. As much as he reminded her of Max, he wasn’t him and she had to keep her objective.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, neither of them unsure of what to say to each other.

Jason was the first to break the silence. “So are you going to this Sci-fi convention thing on the weekend?”

“I don’t think so,” Liz shook her head. “I think I’m working the afternoon shift that day. I’ll probably be pretty tired.”

“Well,” Jason coughed and cleared his throat. “I was thinking of dropping by it. Checking it out. When in Rome and all that,” he chuckled. “I was hoping that I could go with a local and get the lay of the land so to speak.”

Jason waited hoping that she would agree to go with him. He didn’t know what it was about her. It wasn’t like she was making it easy for him. In fact, he could feel the emotional walls she erected around her as if they were physically there. All he knew was he wanted to be around her. It made him feel settled and…happy. It was something he’d never felt before.

He watched as Liz thought it over, a frown marring her pretty face.

“Well, I don’t know,” Liz replied.

“Let the inner Trekkie in you come out and party,” Jason suggested, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Liz’s eyes widened at his comment, her lips involuntarily stretching into a smile.

“Aha! I knew that was in there somewhere,” Jason exclaimed causing Liz to blush. Suddenly she felt flustered, like some awkward teenager.

Jason tipped his head to the side, “You know you’re beautiful when you smile.”

Liz felt warm, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She mentally chided herself for acting so immature. Needing a distraction, she fumbled with her coffee cup, accidentally tipping its contents all over the table and the floor.

“Oh shit!” Liz exclaimed, grabbing a handful of napkins. She slipped off her chair and bent down to the floor, trying to wipe the spill. Jason followed suit, grabbing a handful of napkins and wiping down the table and the floor. As they both furiously sopped up the liquid, neither of them realized how close they were to each other. The moment that their foreheads bumped, Liz drew back, jolted by the sudden contact.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” she stammered, rubbing her forehead with her forearm. A moment later, the waitress came by with a cloth and finished cleaning up.

“Thanks for the coffee, but I better get going,” Liz got up and dug her hand in her pocket. She produced a five dollar bill and was about to place it on the table when Jason grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Don’t worry about it. My treat,” Jason smiled, unable to resist not letting his touch linger.

Liz immediately pulled her hand back. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around.” She turned and walked out the door, willing herself not to look back.

It irritated her that she couldn’t get a hold of herself around him. He made her feel things that she thought was long lost, and she didn’t like it one bit. She was so angry and frustrated at herself. The little information that she did manage to find didn’t help much with her cause. If he really was a reporter then he wasn’t a threat to them.

A sudden thought made her pause. Maybe he could still help her find Max. A reporter has access or can gain access to all sorts of things. Maybe she could use him to trace Max. All she would need to do was ignore the dormant feelings he incited in her. She wouldn’t admit that she was attracted to him. She just couldn’t. If she were to acknowledge that it would mean that she’d be betraying Max. She just couldn’t do that to him or his memory. Shrugging off the strong feelings of guilt, she contemplated whether to go back to the café. In the end, she decided it would be best if she waited until the weekend to see him again. Perhaps the Sci-fi Festival would be a good distraction and it might help her ease him into helping her cause. Quickly making a decision, she changed directions and headed toward the town library.


Jason stood at the window and watched Liz walk away. He just didn’t get it. He was usually good at reading people. He had a gift for it. It always came in handy in his line of work. However, he had a difficult time judging Liz Parker. He couldn’t tell if she was interested or not. During their conversation, he could glimpse the spark of attraction in her eyes but just as quickly as they came up, they would immediately disappear, replaced by an icy barrier. Maybe this weekend would be different. He intended to make the most of his date. He knew that Richard would re-evaluate his assignment if he was unable to produce an interview with Lieutenant Griffin and this weekend might be the last time he’d get to see Liz.

Sighing, he dropped a few bills on the table and made his way out the door. He needed to do some research on this Special Unit case. He very well couldn’t twiddle his thumbs while he waited for the Lieutenant to contact him again. He needed to get some background information. Perhaps he could dig up some history on this covert FBI group. He wasn’t quite sure where to start but he had a feeling that Roswell had a deep connection to the case.

When he arrived at the library, he headed straight for the archives where recently de-classified military records where held. He knew that the states of Nevada and New Mexico were littered with both active and inactive military bases. Nevada had Area 51 and Roswell had the incident of July 1947. Jason knew that there would be a lot of false and inaccurate information to sort through. Blowing out a tired breath he sat down in front of a records computer and began his search.

After printing several pages of reference and call numbers, Jason grabbed a pen and headed for the stacks. He was surprised that a town the size of Roswell, New Mexico had such a well-kept and large library. Furthermore, the library owned an extensive amount of archived periodicals and de-classified government documents. He found several of the documents easy enough and headed back to the reading area.

Jason looked at the old, type-written documents laid out before him and gritted his teeth. No wonder it had been allowed to be de-classified. Most of the military documents looked like crossword puzzles. Most of the letters were blacked out in thick, dark felt thus ensuring that the reader would be unable to glean any useful information from them. So far, all he’d been able to ascertain was that there was a military base in existence somewhere near the town of Roswell and that classified projects had been conducted at that location. As for the exact location of this base and the personnel who were involved, Jason was out of luck. All that information had been blocked out. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Maybe he’d have better luck at the periodicals. Gathering the papers in a pile, he stood up and headed for the microfiche section.

At the other end of the library, Liz was also doing her own research. She was sitting in front of one of the computers searching the net. She wanted to make sure that Jason’s story checked out, and to her surprise, it did. She visited the Washington Post website and was able to locate Jason’s name. She read some of his old articles and was impressed by his talent. She came to the conclusion that he would be able to help her investigate Max’s disappearance after reading his most recent article. He had written an article on a recent FBI budget scandal, which meant that he’d be able to gain access to FBI records.

As Liz walked in between the book stacks she mentally went over the information that she already knew.

Max had disappeared in the spring of 2000. She knew that the FBI was involved. She had tried to get more information from Nasedo but after he and Tess left town, she had lost contact with him. Not that she really wanted to keep in touch. After he shape-shifted into Max and kidnapped her, she blamed him for Max’s disappearance. He had used Max as bait in order to lure the FBI but his plan had backfired. Liz clenched her fists, feeling the familiar sense of anger that that memory brought.

Her arms started to tingle and she knew that she had to get her emotions under control before her powers flared up. She didn’t know what was going on but for the past week, she had been having a difficult time controlling her powers. At least she knew that her physiology was still human. She had tested her blood to make sure of that. She had a feeling that her brain was developing, that she was tapping into areas that were dormant in a normal human being. She just didn’t know how far this mutation would go. She was afraid but there was no one she could turn to. No one she could ask. She would have to just bear through it alone.

As she rounded a corner, she tripped and fell. However, instead of landing on the floor, a strong pair of arms caught her.

“Hi,” a male voice greeted.

Liz looked up and groaned. It was the reporter again. Why did she keep running into him?

“Thanks. Sorry about almost mowing you down,” she apologized and extricated herself from his grasp.

“Hey, no problem,” Jason smiled. Liz felt him staring at her, making her uncomfortable. However, as much as he made her uneasy, she knew that she needed his resources. She needed to get him to trust her enough to want to help her.

She mentally shrugged off her doubts. “Jason, I was won –”

“Liz, could you – ”

They both spoke and stopped at the same time.

Jason laughed. “You go first.”

“No, you go first,” Liz suggested.

“I was wondering if you’d like to be interviewed for my article,” Jason asked.

Liz raised an eyebrow in surprise. Maybe she wouldn’t have to ask him to help her. Maybe she could get the information she needed by helping him.

“What did you have in mind?” Liz asked.

“Just some background information stuff,” Jason replied. “I need some historical information about Roswell and the surrounding areas.”

Liz thought about it and nodded her head. “Sure. I’ll help you.”

“Great!” Jason exclaimed and led her toward the bank of microfiche viewers.

As the two of them sat down, they both felt the tension grow between them. As much as Liz tried to fight it, she couldn’t help the growing attraction she felt for Jason.

And it frightened her to no end.


tbc...