Melinda Metz - The Dark One

"That's right. I need to talk to you," she yelled.

"Is that your girlfriend or something?" a female voice asked over the shouts of "shut up" from the rest of the audience.

"No, I'm his mother," Maria called back. "And I'm taking him home."

Alex sidestepped out of the row of seats and reached Maria in four long strides. He propelled her back into the lobby and closed the door behind them.

"What is your problem?" he demanded.

"My problem is that just because you happen to have become a babe, you've totally forgotten who your friends really are," Maria snapped.

"And I should do what? Spend every second with the UFO-lovers club?" Alex demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What you should do is stop thinking with whatever it is you've been thinking with and start thinking with your brain." Maria roughly brushed some popcorn crumbs off the front of his sweater. "We need you, Alex."

He pulled two Hot Tamales out of her hair, not bothering to be gentle. "I'm not helping you go after DuPris, if that's what this is about," Alex answered, his voice low. "There is nothing we can do against his power. We-"

"This isn't about DuPris. It's about Isabel," Maria told him.

Some of the color instantly left Alex's face, and Maria knew she had his attention.

"Tell me," he demanded. He pulled her over to one of the padded benches in front of the bathrooms, as far away from the usher as they could get.

"She entered her akino, which you'd know if you hadn't decided to become Roswell's own sex bunny," Maria said.

"It's the girls who are the bunnies," Alex corrected, rubbing the back of his neck. "Did Isabel make the connection to the consciousness?"

"No. She refused." Maria felt un-Arnold tears sting her eyes. "Isabel and Michael took off somewhere without the communication crystals. She's out there someplace dying, and we don't know how to find her."

"Oh, my God," Alex said, his face almost completely white. "I still don't know what you want me to do, but I'm there."

Maria gave him a fast hug. "I knew you would be." She checked over her shoulder to make sure the usher wasn't listening. He was twirling his flashlight like a cowboy and replacing it in an imaginary holster. Not a problem.

"When we were trying to get you back from you know where, your father found DuPris before we did," Maria explained. "He must have some kind of Clean Slate tracking device. You've got to get it from him."

Alex nodded. "It's not going to be easy. My dad has refused to answer even one question about his connection to Clean Slate. But I'll get it done."

He stood up and pulled Maria to her feet, and they headed for the exit. "You'll have to drive me."

"Oh, your girls pick you up, huh, stud?" Maria teased, relief making her giddy. "Wait a sec," she said as they reached the doors. She hurried over to the concession stand and grabbed a handful of napkins. The usher looked like he wanted to say something but didn't.

Maria rushed back over to Alex and handed him the napkins. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I know your dad well enough to be sure he's not going to want to listen to you if you have lipstick all over your face," she explained.

Michael watched Isabel sleep, hoping it was only sleep, hoping she hadn't slipped into unconsciousness. His arm was numb beneath her shoulders, and his right leg was cramping from his awkward position lying on the edge of the twin bed, but he didn't move. He wanted to stay as close to Isabel as he could get. Just listening to her breathe those horrible wheezing breaths. Knowing she was still with him.

She rolled her head toward him, sending pins and needles through his numb arm.

"You awake?" he asked softly.

"Barely," she answered. "I was having this dream… where I was being buried… in the sand. At first it… was fun, but all the little grains kept… coming down, and then I could… hardly breathe."

"I want to connect with you. I know I can't really heal you, but maybe I can make you feel a little better," Michael told her. He wished he could somehow pull her pain into his own body. It hurt more to see Izzy hurting than it would to actually experience the physical sensations himself.

"Okay," Isabel answered. Michael inched his arm out from under her, then moved the covers down a little and placed his hands on her chest, just below her throat.

"Your hands are… like Trevor's," she murmured. She paused to take a breath. "Or his are… like yours. I noticed that… when we danced."

Was she totally out of it now? Did she even know what she was saying?

"At the party… in the museum," she continued. "I thought… maybe Trevor and I… he's like you… but without the… feels-like-my-brother thing."

"Don't waste your breath talking about that," Michael told her. "Don't talk at all right now. Let me make the connection."

All he had to do was think the name Isabel, and a rush of images swept over him. Many of the images were almost as familiar to him as those from his own life because so much of his life had been spent with Isabel.

A glistening ship with shimmering sides that looked almost liquid. Max laughing. A sizzling rainbow of auras in a cave. Michael running his hands through his hair. A burned doll.

And he was in. Connected. His second heartbeat was pounding so quickly, it scared him.

Slowly Michael used his mind to examine her body-their body. The contrast between her internal organs and his own was so huge that Michael almost had to break the connection. If she can feel it, you can look at it, he told himself.

The texture of her lungs looked like old paper. As if they might disintegrate into dust at a single touch. He didn't want to risk even brushing them with his mind. A survey of her other organs showed Michael they were all in a similar condition. He carefully allowed the connection to slip, splitting them into separate beings again.

"Couldn't do anything?" Isabel asked.

Michael shook his head. As he looked down at her, he also saw the little girl Isabel, the little girl who'd adored him, who'd been so sure he could do anything.

What a laugh, he thought.

"Not your fault… stupid," Isabel said.

She'd always been able to know pretty much what he was thinking. Today he didn't think that was a good thing. What she had to deal with was enough. She didn't need all his fear and garbage dumped on her.

"Think you could… find Trevor?" Isabel asked. "Maybe he could help."

"He's with DuPris," Michael reminded her.

"I know," Isabel answered. Her chapped lips began to bleed again. "But I need… I need you to… find him."

Alex hesitated outside the door to his father's study, his heart fluttering nervously.

"No guts, no glory," he muttered, lifting his hand and knocking confidently. When his father called, "Come in," Alex straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, shooting for the posture his military-man dad preferred. Well, preferred was an understatement. More like demanded. Then he stepped inside.

"I thought you were at the movies," his father said, glancing up at Alex.

"I was, but something came up," Alex answered. "Something I need to talk to you about."

The Major looked surprised-or what passed for surprised, considering the way he kept his emotions locked down. Alex understood why. He and the old man weren't exactly known for their heart-to-heart talks. They'd basically had one-when Alex made it back from the aliens' home planet. They'd had this short but intense conversation about how Alex's dad had been trying to bring him back. That revelation had totally blown Alex away-and not just because his dad had revealed that he was a Project Clean Slate agent-but because he'd revealed the depth of his love for Alex.