Liz Parker rapped on the apartment door with a hard fist. BAM! BAM! BAM! There was no answer for a long minute, so she tried again. BAM! BAM! BAM!

This time, she heard footsteps inside the apartment. There was the sound of a chain sliding along a track, then a deadbolt being retracted, and the door slowly swung open.

"What do you...?" The young man on the other side of the door trailed off when he saw his visitor. His eyes widened in shock.

"Hello, Kyle," Liz said sweetly. "We are going to have a little chat."

******

"Can I get you a drink or something?" Kyle asked from the kitchen as he rifled through the fridge.

Liz glanced over her shoulder from her vantage point on the couch. "No thanks, Kyle. I'm fine."

"Your loss." He snagged himself a Budweiser, and slammed the fridge door closed. Sauntering into the living room, he flopped down into a chair and looked at her with that piercing gaze he'd always been famous for. "So, whaddaya want, Liz? Long time no see."

Liz gave him a frigid smile. Her anger from the hospital had not dissipated. "You know damn well why I'm here, Kyle. I want to know where they are."

Kyle raised his eyebrows in puzzlement as he took a swig from his beer can. "And just who would you be talking about?" he asked after swallowing.

"Max, Michael and Isabelle."

Kyle guffawed, sitting forward in his chair and holding his beer can away from him so as not to spill it. "Max, Michael and Isabelle? I haven't heard about them for months now-- not since they disappeared. What makes you think I know where they are?"

"Because I know you're the one that warned them in the first place."

This elicited an even stronger reaction, and Kyle had to put the Bud down on the coffeetable to avoid spillage. "Warn them?" he chuckled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Liz sat back and gave him a calm stare. "You know what I'm talking about. You're the one that told them your father had evidence against them. You're the one that called all three of them and told them to get out of town on the first bus."

Kyle was looking less sure of himself now. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Liz," he said, looking away; but his voice betrayed his emotion.

Liz would not back down. "Yes you do, Kyle."

There was a long silence. When Kyle finally met her eyes, they were clearer than she had ever seen them. "How did you know?" he asked.

She wouldn't allow herself a relieved breath. The fact of the matter was, she hadn't been one hundred percent sure until this moment. But the need was too great-- it outweighed the risk. "It just clicked," she replied softly. "Today, in Maria's hospital room. For the longest time, I wondered who Max's 'friend' was. I was sure it was his boss at the UFO museum, or possibly some unknown face at the Crashdown. But there was always something off about it." She shrugged. "Then today...I just KNEW. The way you always seemed to be hinting that you knew their secret, but never giving it away. The way you stuck up for Max when your buddies beat him up..." Her eyes burned into his. "Why didn't you tell us?"

It was Kyle's turn to shrug. "How could I?" he asked. "I was supposed to ignore you-- distrust you. It would have looked more than a LITTLE suspicious if I'd suddenly gotten all chummy with you guys. My dad would have known something was up."

"How long did you know? About them?"

"I always knew."

That took Liz by surprise. "What? How?"

Kyle twitched an eyebrow. "When you grow up in a family that looks for aliens in every shadow, you notice the differences in people. I knew the first time I saw Max Evans in third grade that there was something odd about him. It was simple to get to Isabelle, and then Michael, from there." He ran a hand through his hair. "It was really never an option that they were anything BUT aliens. I'm surprised it took the old man so long to figure it out himself"

"Why didn't you tell your father?"

He was silent for a long minute. "I guess," he finally answered, "I just...I didn't want to see their family broken up. Max and Izzy, that is." He chuckled. "Michael would have just beaten the crap out of me if I ever gave him up, but I couldn't do that anyway, because it was a hop, skip, and a jump to the others from him." His mirth died, and he looked away, studying the condensation forming on the outside of his ignored beer can. "I had a crappy enough childhood, you know? I didn't want to ruin theirs."

Liz just watched him with fascination. For years, she'd been afraid of him, virtually despised him-- for what he was, who he was. She'd been convinced that he would turn the trio over to his father in a heartbeat. And all along... he'd known. He'd known, and he'd never told a soul. "When... Did Max and the others... Did they know you knew?"

Kyle shook his head. "Naw, not until I called them that night." He laughed. "God, you should have heard the shock in Michael's voice ALONE when he heard me telling him all this shit about Dad calling me at Notre Dame, all in a frenzy, about finally knowing. Finally having the evidence. He never told me what evidence he meant, but I knew what he was talking about."

Liz's eyes were wide with wonder. "So you told them to get out, before he could get to them."

"What else could I do? I'd spent so much time protecting them...I couldn't just stop now."

Her eyes were misting over. "I'm so sorry, Kyle," she murmured. "I...misjudged you."

He shifted uncomfortably, keeping his eyes averted. "No you didn't, Liz. You saw what I wanted you to see."

Neither spoke for some time.

Eventually, Kyle cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. "All right," he said, looking pointedly at her, "so we've established who knows who here. So why do you want to know where they are? And what makes you think I know?"

Liz blinked away the remnants of her tears and stood slowly. Moving deliberately, she circled through the furniture. "First," she said, "I expect you to know because I don't think Max, Isabelle, or even Michael for that matter, would make a complete break from Roswell. They'd want to have feelers back here in town. Their contact couldn't be me, or Maria, or even Alex-- they'd know we were too risky. So who better than the son of the sheriff, who had never outwardly shown any kind of affection towards them?"

"Second," she continued, still walking slowly, "I expect you to know because how better to get back at your father for years of ignoring you? To finally know something he doesn't? Something he desperately wants to know? I think you'd enjoy that immensely. And after saving their asses, I think they'd probably oblige you."

"And last," she finished, sitting on the edge of the coffeetable in front of him so they were eye to eye," I expect you to know, because if you don't, my best friend and her unborn child are both going to die, and that is unacceptable."

He looked at her sharply. "What? Maria?"

Liz nodded. "She's...in the hospital." She quickly outlined the story, trying hard not to cry."

When Liz was finished, she swallowed hard. "So you see why that reason is most important of all, Kyle. Maria will die if I can't get in touch with them-- Maria and her child. MICHAEL'S child."

Kyle nodded, eyes turned inward.

She hadn't been aware of the tears building in her throat, but now when she swallowed, they burned. "Please, Kyle," she whispered. "Tell me where they are. They have to heal her. I won't let her die."

His eyes were piercing when they looked up, biting into her own. He was searching her, looking for the truth in her. And she laid herself open to him.

Abruptly, he stood and strode from the room. She didn't watch him go-- her eyes stayed focused on where he'd been sitting, barely registering his departure. So that was it. He was going to ignore her-- forget her request. Maria's safety wasn't as important as their goddamned security. Liz felt the tears beginning to well.

Which was why the letters he suddenly held in front of her face took her so completely by surprise.

Kyle sat again in the chair before her, the letters never moving from her eyesight. Picking one in particular, he kept it up and let the others fall into his lap. "Isabelle," he said, indicating the letter he held in front of her nose. "New York City. Reason, and I quote, 'It's easy for one beautiful person to disappear in a city of over eight MILLION beautiful people.'"

He dropped that letter into his lap, and picked up another. "Max," he said, and Liz felt her heart leap at the name. "Keene, New Hampshire. He's getting his bachelor's degree in philosophy at Keene State College. Said he wanted a small town again, like Roswell. It's just colder there."

Max's letter joined Isabelle's in his lap as Kyle picked up the last one. "Michael," he said. "Denver, Colorado. Reason? To be closer to the sky." He shrugged. "Never did explain why he stayed so close, though. He's never strayed farther away than Billings."

Picking up all three letters again, he held them out to her. "No phone numbers. No street addresses. Just fake names and PO Boxes." His voice lowered. "You can have one," he said softly. "Just one. Who do you choose?"

Liz looked at the three letters with wide eyes. To go from total ignorance of their whereabouts to knowing their exact locations was a breathtaking experience. Her mind was still reeling as she tried to decide amongst them.

Isabelle was a logical choice. She was skilled in using her powers, and would have much better knowledge of the female body than a man, for obvious reasons. For sheer pragmatism, Isabelle was the only choice.

Max. He had healed her once before, that first day in the Crashdown, so he knew how to do it. And she wasn't going to lie to herself-- she missed him. Missed him desperately. For pragmatism and personal reasons, Max was the only choice.

Michael. He was a paranoid case of ADD. No control over his powers, except in the barest sense. There would be no guarantee that he would even know how to BEGIN healing Maria, let alone the child in her stomach.

But Maria was carrying his baby, and was willing to die from the lack of him. For Maria, Michael was the only choice.

In the end, it was a no brainer.

She reached out a tentative hand and took hold of Michael's letter, slipping it from Kyle's fingers. She winced when he quickly pulled back the other two letters, and with them, her only link to Max. Her fingers clenched around the already crumpled envelope, wrinkling it even more. "Thank you, Kyle," she whispered, bringing her eyes to his.

He gave her a half smile. "I don't want to see Maria hurt anymore than you do, Liz," he murmured. "And if I can help save her...." He trailed off.

She smiled back at him. "You know," she said softly, "you're actually kind of cute, when you're not being a jock."

He chuckled in return, but it died quickly. "But that was never enough, was it?" he asked.

Liz's smile faded, and she didn't answer.

Kyle shrugged, straightening in his chair. "Well," he said clearly, "at least I can tell people with absolute honesty that you dumped me for a guy who was out of this world."

She managed a grin again, and leaned forward to hug him. "Thank you, Kyle," she whispered. "I wish we could be friends again."

He shook his head. "Too risky," he murmured back. "Dad's still sheriff, there are still people poking around." They pulled apart and he chucked her under the chin. "Just don't keep praying for me to die in my sleep, OK?"

She nodded. "I'll remember that," she answered with a smile.

He stood and helped her up. "Don't you have a letter to write?" he asked.

She let him lead her to the door. "Yes, Kyle," she replied. "Thanks to you, I do."

******

Liz Parker stared at the simple white envelope in her hand, and, for the hundreth time that minute, wondered if she'd made the right choice.

The name on the envelope was strange to her. Adrian Smith. A simple name-- it could easily belong to anybody. Perfect for playing a life and death game of hide-and-seek. PO Box 1023. Denver, Colorado.

She sighed. Like it or not, she'd made her choice three hours ago in Kyle's apartment. There was no turning back now.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she muttered.

What had she been thinking? Going with a loose cannon case of walking, talking schizophrenia. "That's a bit harsh," she scolded herself. "He's just paranoid."

Sure. No problem there.

Max would have been a MUCH better choice. He was calm, level-headed, a natural-born leader. He would have been able to handle the situation quickly and efficiently, and Maria would have walked out of that hospital room, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, five minutes after he walked in. It was just that simple.

Then, maybe, Liz could have spent some QUALITY time with him...

She shook herself. No. She wasn't the issue here, and neither were her feelings toward Max. Maria was the one that mattered, and when she opened her eyes, there was only one being on the face of this earth the pixie-girl would want to see. And that was Michael Guerin.

Liz glared again at the letter in her hand. She hadn't put her return address on the letter-- too easily tracked that way. Kyle had told her as much. He'd even addressed the envelope for her-- because Michael would recognize his handwriting. "No need to shock him senseless before he's even read the letter," the football player told her.

Still, she wasn't happy. There were no guarantees that Michael would respond in any way to her pleas for help. He might have put Roswell as far behind him as he psychologically could, and wouldn't want to fire those particular synapses again. Perhaps he'd moved on past Maria-- that made Liz wince-- and wouldn't want to come help her.

She thought of the words she'd written. Heaven knew, she hadn't expected it to be so hard to ask such a crucial favor. It had taken over an hour to phrase it correctly. What she'd ended with had been simple, straight-forward, and she hoped it hit him right in the soul-- struck him to the core, like he had done to Maria.

"If you ever felt for her, get your ass back here and save her life. Roswell General Hospital, Room 223. You put her here-- now get her out."

No signature. He'd know it was her-- who else could it be? She hoped he sweated, fretted. And when he DID show up, if he hurt her friend again, Liz was going to personally kill him.

With a clean motion, she opened the blue swing door of the streetcorner mailbox and dropped the letter into the darkness. It was gone-- beyond her hands. She took a deep breath, turned on her heel, and wondered when it was she'd become so cold.

******

The next week was the worst Liz had ever lived through. Mrs. Deluca would rarely leave her daughter's bedside, unless Liz or Alex dragged her away. Alex-- God, if she looked as bad as he did, she was in poor shape. His face was drawn, and dark circles shadowed the area beneath his eyes. If he slept, Liz never noticed.

Tonight was her shift. She'd sent Maria's mother and Alex home to sleep. "I'll let you know if there's any change," she'd assured them. "I promise."

Change. That would have been a blessing. Any kind of change. Something to show Maria was still alive, not just a mannequin hardwired to a heart monitor and soaking up nutrients like a sponge. But the blonde girl in the hospital bed wouldn't comply- she'd stayed steady for the past week. An equilibrium that could still tilt either way.

Liz forced herself to sleep, even if it was fitful. "You're no good to Maria if you faint from exhaustion," she told herself, even as she pressed her eyelids closed, banishing another nightmare to the back of her mind and forcing herself to sleep again.

And it was during one of these meager fits of slumber that he came to her.

She was in a dark room, a place she'd visited many times before. There were no doors, no windows, and only a single lightbulb dangling from a long wire in the center of the ceiling for illumination. No furniture, no ornaments. No escape.

Liz sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, staring up at the lightbulb. "Wonder what that symbolizes?" she murmured absently.

"A spark of hope in a hopeless situation?"

She spun around, eyes wide. No one had ever joined her here before. Certainly never..."Max?" she whispered, afraid to believe.

He gifted her with his trademark half smile. "Hello, Liz. I've missed you."

******

He spoke so easily, as if six months and three thousand miles had never separated them. As if they were chatting over an Alien Blast in the Crashdown. "Are... are you real?" she murmured, uncurling and standing slowly.

Max's eyes played softly over her face. "Yes, Liz. It's me." He chuckled. "The number of times I've told Izzy off about dreamwalking, and what am I doing?" He looked around. "I'm glad I did," he said. "If you're living in a dark place like this, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Liz was an awkward teenager again-- all elbows and knees. She stuck her thumbs into her belt loops and hunched her shoulders. God, she just wanted to throw herself through the intervening space between them and wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him and kiss him....

"Why are you here, Max?" she asked instead, fighting down the manic impulses of her id.

His smiled faded. "Kyle...he wrote to me. I heard about Maria." His eyebrows pursed. "How is she?"

Liz felt a cold fist form in her stomach. "No change," she whispered.

"And the baby?"

She shrugged, uncomfortable talking about Maria's pregnancy when it was quite possible Maria herself didn't know. "The doctor's say its a miracle the baby's even alive, let alone as strong as it is."

Max managed a chuckle. "Michael and Maria always were tenacious. Guess it's in their genes."

Liz winced at Michael's name, and Max looked at her curiously. "Is something wrong? Liz?"

She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to tell anyone. It was her problem. Her emotions. She raised her eyes to his. "No."

At least, that was what was SUPPOSED to come out of her mouth.

Instead, she looked up, stared him dead in the eye, and collapsed into tears.

"Liz?" He had her wrapped in his arms in a split second, and she sobbed against him, deep, racking sobs, that tore her apart over and over.

Max stroked her long, dark hair. "It's going to be all right, Liz," he whispered. "Everything's going to be all right."

"What if he doesn't show?" she moaned, sobbing. "Maria...Maria needs him! And I don't know...."

"He'll come," Max assured her.

Sniffing, she pulled back far enough to look into his eyes. "H-how do you know?" she sniffled.

Max's gentle eyes softened even more as he ran his elegant fingers through her hair. "Because I know him," he replied. "He likes to think he's a big enigma, but he's not." He smiled. "If he didn't care for Maria, he would never have gone to her dormroom that night. He would have run as far and as fast as he could, until Roswell, and the Crashdown, and blonde waitresses with pixie haircuts were just memories." His fingers moved to cup her cheek, and Liz let her eyes drift closed. "Michael Guerin might try to hide it, but when he loves, he loves deeper than almost anyone else on the face of this earth."

Her eyes opened then, and she looked deeply into his. "What about you?" she whispered.

Max said nothing for a long minute. Then, in answer, he leaned forward, and kissed her.

It was mindblowing. Even his last night here in Roswell, they had gone no further than simple kissing. They'd laid next to each other beneath the stars, side by side, wrapped in one another's arms, rarely speaking. She could still remember the touch of his lips.

But this was different. This wasn't the tender farewell kisses she remembered. This was more-- it spoke of his hunger, and loneliness, and how much he missed her. It spoke of how long he'd wanted her, to taste her like this-- not with the tender fumblings of a teenager, or a young man, but with purpose, and knowledge. She let herself melt into him.

When they broke apart, she gasped for air with him, foreheads touching, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hand twined in her hair, the other resting on the small of her back. Parts of her she hadn't allowed herself to think about for months were tingling, pulsing.

She looked into his eyes, and he smiled. "I said ALMOST everyone," he whispered.

Liz smiled back, then went for his lips again. He didn't resist. She felt his tongue slip between her lips again, and she delved into his mouth with her own.

When they came apart, she gasped out, "Max?"

"Hmm?" His lips were on her neck now.

"Why....didn't we...do like Michael...and Maria?"

He froze, and she cursed herself for breaking the mood. Pulling away from her throat, he stood straight and gazed down into her eyes. "Why?"

"I...I just wondered," she whispered.

Max closed his eyes and let his head drop forward with a sigh. "I...God, I just...."

She stroked his cheek, and he leaned into her hand. "Why, Max?" she said softly, tenderly.

His eyes opened, and he gazed at her. "Because I knew if we did, I could never leave you," he replied, insecuriy swept away. "I knew I would stay with you and let myself die over you. And I couldn't do that. Not to you, not to me, not to the others. I had to be able to leave and not look back." He trailed off, and rested his forehead against hers. "But you want to know what's ironic?"

"What?"

"When I moved into my dorm, I made sure I got a room that faces southwest."

There was silence for a long moment, then Liz laughed.

"We are a sorry pair, aren't we, Max?" she chuckled.

He smiled in return. "I guess so."

There was silence.

"You're not here now."

Max looked puzzled at her comment. "Yes I am, Liz," he told her.

She shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean." She smiled knowingly. "You're not here to be captured. You're just here to...be here."

He saw where she was going, and smiled in return. "Maybe so," he murmured. "But if we did....would I ever want to wake up again?"

"If we don't, would I?"

"Good point."

"Make love to me, Max." She almost couldn't believe she was saying it. But once the words had left her lips, Liz felt how right they were.

His eyes burned into hers, and she felt her heart begin to pound faster. "Liz, are you sure?"

"God, yes," she murmured. "Please?"

His hands came up to cup her face, and he touched her lips lightly. "Yes, Liz," he whispered hoarsely against her lips.

There was very little to be said after that.

******

When she woke several hours later, Liz felt happier than she had in months. She had his love, the memory of his hands on her, and his promise to not be a stranger in her dreams. "Not that he had been to begin with," she thought absently. She opened her eyes, and with shock that she realized she wasn't alone in the room.

A dark figure loomed over Maria's bed, gazing down at the golden girl.

Liz gave herself a second to recover from her initial jolt. When she was sure she wouldn't squeak, she said, "You came."

Michael showed no sign of surprise at her voice. "So I did," he replied, voice hoarse.

Unfolding herself from the chair with some difficulty-- her tryst with Max might have only been in a dreamscape, but her muscles were so relaxed that she found it hard to control them-- Liz stood, and walked to Maria's bedside, across from Michael. "I wasn't sure you would," she told him.

He glanced briefly at her, then looked back to Maria's pale face. "Neither was I," he whispered.

******

Go to Part 5-6