Melinda Metz - The Stowaway

Another image appeared-Max's mother teaching him how to drive. Again he felt the reaction of the others-curiosity about the technology of the car, appreciation of the warmth of the relationship between Max and his mother, wonder that one of theirs could experience this with a human.

He felt as if his essence, his spirit, was being discovered and celebrated by all those in the consciousness. The images came faster and faster, with no effort from Max, revealing all the most important moments of his life.

As each image disappeared, Max felt a little piece of his memory fade, dissolving into the ocean of auras. He was becoming part of the whole. The whole was becoming part of him. It was awesome. Transcendent.

The image of his first kiss with Liz exploded in his brain. He felt the others' appreciation of the love between Liz and Max and echoes of the love the others had experienced in their own lives.

Then the memory began to slip away from him, becoming softer and blurrier as it was shared between the billions of entities making up the consciousness.

"Stop!" Max cried. "Don't." He wasn't sure if he was using his throat and tongue and lips to form the words. He wasn't even sure if he was speaking in English. But somehow the others understood him. He felt their bewilderment, their concern.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't share so much with them. If he did, he wouldn't have anything left.

Max used all his will to force the others away from him, to break the connection and stop them from pulling away the memories that formed his own consciousness, that formed the entity called Max.

You're all right, he told himself. You're safe now. You're still you.

He opened his eyes, and his heart jackhammered as he saw his own image in the mirror. His body had become almost transparent-like a ghost. He could only see an outline of himself, and his bones and organs were faintly visible underneath.

Max looked down and tried to poke his finger through his midsection. But his finger just jabbed into flesh. He closed his eyes and squeezed himself with his mind. He looked back up at the mirror-to see that his body had fully rematerialized.

"You might want to move back a little," Cameron warned Michael. "The contents of this Lime Warp soda are under pressure. If I make one wrong move when I open it, that's it. The cap could blow off, causing-" She checked the warning on the side of the can. "Causing eye or other serious injury."

"I'll risk it," Michael answered. He stayed planted on the flat beanbag next to hers.

God, he was sexy. God, she wished he would move just a little farther away. Her whole body was aching for him. But she had to hit the road soon-a couple of days, tops, and starting something with Michael wasn't going to make that any easier.

"Okay, if you want to live dangerously." Cameron unscrewed the bottle top, and the soda gave a gentle fizz. "Kind of anticlimactic," she said. "Like a lot of things."

And you should remember that, she told herself. Yeah, she felt like she'd die if she couldn't feel Michael's hands on her again, but it was probably one of those things that was a lot better in her memory than in reality. Or not.

"Oh, really?" Michael asked. "I don't find that at all." He twisted off the top of his soda, and it erupted. That was the only word for it. At least half the bottle spewed up into the air, and the cap hit the ceiling with a pop.

Cameron wiped a little foam off her cheek. "I think you gave that a little help," she accused him.

Michael grinned at her. "All it takes is the right guy."

"Okay, stop," she ordered Michael. "I'm starting to feel like we're in a movie some businessman is watching in a cheap motel."

"That doesn't sound so bad." He leaned toward her, his gray eyes smoldering.

Cameron jerked her soda can up to her mouth and took a long swallow, doing one of those numbers where she pretended she had no idea that Michael had been about to kiss her. She knew what kissing Michael felt like. And she knew if she let herself experience it again, she'd never get her butt out of Roswell.

Runaway rule number one: Always keep moving, she lectured herself. If she stayed here, or anywhere, too long, she put herself at risk of getting caught and shipped back home.

She wished that wasn't true. She wished she could just stay here forever. It was the first place she'd really felt safe in a very long time.

Yeah, safe with the people you betrayed, she thought. She felt a little sick every time she remembered how she'd manipulated Michael into telling her the names of the other aliens and then told Sheriff Valenti that Max and Isabel were the ones he was looking for.

At least nothing bad had happened to them because of what she'd done. Adam had killed Valenti before he had a chance to do anything with the info. But that didn't change the fact that Cameron had given up Michael's friends just to stop Valenti from turning her over to her parents.

It probably wasn't the last time she'd have to do something like that. That's just the way it had to be. She had to be willing to do anything to survive. It was very nice that Michael had this whole group of people willing to go to the mat for him, but she didn't. She had to take care of herself.

"So, do you want me to help you decide between psycho girl and the cheerleader?" she asked Michael, just in case the move with the soda hadn't discouraged him enough. "Isabel is definitely hotter, but you'd have to be willing to-"

"He's coming out!" Max shouted. A second later Adam burst into the living room, Max right behind him.

Cameron and Michael jumped to their feet. "If you think he's going to hurt you, use your powers on him," he told her, his voice so low, she could hardly hear him.

Oh, good, she thought. Then I'm perfectly safe. I'll just use my powers. The fake powers I lied about having so Michael would trust me enough to open up. Sure am glad I have those powers.

Cameron tried to get control over the fear whirlpooling inside her as she looked at Adam. His eyes passed over her briefly as he jerked his head from side to side, scanning the room, but he didn't seem to recognize her at all. She could have been a bug or a piece of furniture.

"What's up, big guy?" Michael called. "Cameron and I were just saying we were in the mood for a card game. Want to play?"

His voice sounded casual and friendly, but he carefully positioned himself between Cameron and Adam, and there was tension in every muscle of his body. Something was obviously very wrong with Adam.

Adam didn't answer. He did another quick survey of the room, then headed straight for the front door.

Michael and Max scrambled around him, blocking his way. "Adam, listen," Max said, his voice soft and gentle, as if he were trying to calm down an animal. "You're sick or something. I know you might not think so, but you are. We need you to stay inside until we find out what's wrong and how to help you."

"Ray took something that didn't belong to him. I have to get it back," Adam answered, his voice deeper than Cameron remembered it. He took a step forward, but Michael and Max wouldn't let him pass.

"Move," Adam demanded.

"No," Michael said firmly. "We're not moving. You want to get past us, you're going to have to take us out. Is that what you want to do, Adam? You want to attack us? Look at us. I'm the one who helped you escape from the compound. Max is the one who took care of you when you got out."

Is he even capable of remembering them? Cameron wondered. He seemed so completely different. Was there enough of the old Adam left to respond to what Michael was saying?

"Maybe you should just let him go," she cried. She'd seen what Adam had done to Valenti. She would go insane if she had to watch that happen to Michael. But there was no way she could fight Adam. She was powerless.