I'd dragged Michael out of my room, out onto my rooftop.

"I don't buy it," he was saying. "Why would we release a, a whatdidyoucallit - "

"E. M. P." I said. "I don't know, Michael."

"That makes no sense," he argued.

"I know, Michael, but I can't think of anything else that would take out all this stuff," I said, gesturing down the street. "I mean, look at the streetlights -- all of them out. The christmas lights, out. My alarm clock, the CD player, the hallway light --"

"Could just be a blackout," he said stubbornly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Michael, I'll bet you fifty dollars that none of those cars start tomorrow morning," I said, pointing down at the street. "None. All of them need electricity. That's why the lights won't work, that's why --"

That's why our hearts stopped, Michael.

His head snapped up. "What?"

I really had to get a hold on this communicating thing.

"Our hearts, Michael. Our bodies -- well, human bodies use electric energy, too," I said. "It's what fires synapses, allows the heart to pump blood --"

"You felt that?" he demanded. "You felt our --"

"Didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I thought --" he stopped. "- I thought it was just me, I didn't think --" he stopped again and rolled his head back, bringing his hands up to his temples and then letting them drop.

"Come here," I whispered. He crossed to me and pulled me into a hug. "No -- wait," I said, putting my hand on his chest. He looked puzzled.

I felt his heartbeat, powerful against the palm of my hand. His eyebrows started to knot together. "Liz, what --"

I placed his hand over my heart. "Listen," I whispered. He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn't.

Thump-thump... thump-thump...

His eyes widened in understanding.

"They're the same," he whispered.

I nodded. "Exactly the same, Michael," I whispered.

"That''s impossible," he said, his hand leaving my body. He took a step back.

"I think we did something, Michael," I whispered. "I think we changed ourselves."

He looked panicked. "I don't know what this means," he said.

"I don't either, but --" I paused and took a breath. "Michael, maybe it''s not bad. Maybe it's good."

"Good," he repeated unbelievingly. "Liz, I stopped your heart."

"And it's still beating," I argued, taking his hand back and placing it over my heart. "I'm fine, Michael."

"How do you know?" he whispered. "You don't know. There's no way to know. If I did something to you, Liz --"

"Shh," I whispered, covering his lips with my mouth. He started to push me back and gave up. When the kiss ended he leaned his forehead against mine. "I don't want to do anything to you," he whispered.

"Liar," I grinned.

"Liz," he said sharply, "this is serious. You don't --"

"I'm stronger than you give me credit for, Michael," I interrupted. "And I'm fine. So let's just leave it at that. Alright?"

He took a deep breath and pulled me into a hug. He mumbled my name and shook his head. I smiled and relaxed against his chest.

You still haven't told him about the flash.

He pulled back and looked down at me. "What flash?"


About an hour later I was headed home. To the trailer park. It took Liz about that long to explain the whole flash thing with Max.

I tried not to think about it.

Did you think you were special, Guerin?

I didn't say I was succeeding.

She insisted it was just memories. His memories, she said, of the two of them. That didn't make me feel better, but it sort of helped.

"You're sure he didn't see us?" I'd said when she first told me. "Just the two of you?"

"No, no," she said quickly. "Just the two of us."

She thought Max didn't see the two of us because she was focusing on him. That put me in a great mood. But like she said, I was more or less pushing the two of them together...

...I'd think about it tomorrow. I was too tired. I could get about two hours sleep before school.

I opened the trailer door and headed for my bedroom. Hank had been working on a bottle of Jack Daniels when I left. He should be out by now.

"'Zat you, boy?"

I froze and looked over my shoulder.

Hank was in the recliner. I must've woken him up when the door banged shut.

"Yeah," I mumbled, turning back to my room. "It's me." Fast, Guerin --

"Where you been, boy?" he said, staggering up out of the chair. He stumbled forward to catch his balance and swayed dangerously. The empty bottle dangled loose in his hand.

"I said," he slurred, taking another teetering step, "Where. Have. You. Been?"

I tried to judge his reach.

I was just far enough away. I could make it to my room in a few steps.

"Out," I said.

His eyes flashed.

"Little bastard," he hissed. His arm swung wide and lunged forward.

I judged right for his arm, but not for the bottle. It caught me full force in the face. My body whipped around and slammed into the trailer wall. I tried to catch my balance and failed, slipping down to the floor.

Something wet on my face. I reached up with my hand. Blood. He'd cut my cheek wide open, right under my eye.

I tried to think of a reason not to kill him.

"'Zat any way to talk to your father?" he mumbled.

I looked up at him. The bottle was clutched tight in his fist.

My palms were on fire. It would be so easy. No one would miss him.

Except Valenti.

I tried to stand up, keeping my hands clenched. Control, Guerin -- I tried sliding up the wall. Just make it to your bedroom --

He swung again and everything went black for a minute. When my eyes worked again, I was back on the floor, crumpled up like rag doll. I tried to raise my head.

He was towering over me. Backed me into a corner. Had me just where he wanted me.

"Sneakin' out in the middle of the night," he spat. "Little bastard. Cops might pick you up. Then they'd take you to juvey. You'd like that, wouldn't you, to get away from your old dad?"

"You're not my father," I whispered.

His eyes narrowed. His knuckles were white on the neck of the bottle. "Little bastard," he hissed.

"Who'd want ya?"

His arm swung up, and the bottle came crashing down.


It was hard lying to Michael about the flash.

Not lying: omitting information. About the constellation. The V formation I saw when I kissed Max.

I hated lying to him. But I was sure it didn't mean anything. I mean, I saw the page with the symbols on it, too, but I figured that was just because Max was thinking about it. Max was always thinking about symbols, and constellations, and everything else that might be a clue as to where they came from.

So was Michael.

It was just Max's memory. It didn't mean anything.

But I didn't know if Michael would see it that way. And we'd just gotten so close -- I didn't want to tell him something that would make him pull away from me again. Something that might make him push me toward Max.

You're sure he didn't see the two of us? Just you? Nothing else?

No, no. Nothing else.

I didn't sleep at all after he left.


The first thing out of Maria's mouth was a question about Max. Maybe it was gonna be one of those days.

I tried to play the star-struck schoolgirl -- Michael told me since I kissed Max in front of everybody they'd probably be suspicious if I was totally aloof the next day -- and I followed the rule about sticking as close to the truth as possible. But my heart wasn't in it.

Then I saw Max.

Make sure it's over. Make sure it's over.

"Max," I said. "Hey. You know, the other night, when we kissed, I --"

Isabel interrupted. Typical.

"Something's up with Michael. He's acting weird."

"Weirder than usual?" Max said.


"- I just saw him at the other end of the hall, and he just went the other way."

"Well, maybe he didn't --"

"No, he was ignoring me," she interrupted. "He practically ran into the bathroom. Will you just go in there and see what's going on?"

"Right," he said to her. He turned back to me. "Sorry." Isabel rolled her eyes and walked off.

"It's ok," I whispered. I waited until he disappeared around the corner.


If he heard me, he didn't answer.


I was late that night when I finally let her in. She'd been trying to communicate with me all day.

{I'm here, Liz.}

{Are you all right? I've been trying to reach you since -}

{Since this morning,} I interrupted. {I know. I'm fine.}

{You're sure?}

{Yeah, I'm -- I'm great.}

{Everything okay with Hank?}

How did she guess that?

{Yeah, but I can't do this now. I'll talk to you tomorrow.}

{...Okay...I'll talk to you tomorrow night.}

She sounded disappointed. I chewed on my lip.

I could tell her about Hank, but --

She doesn't need to know about that, Guerin. You can handle it.

A few minutes later Hank and I were yelling, and then Max and Is burst in.

Life, as I knew it, was over.


Unbelievable. In just a couple hours, Max and Is had effectively destroyed the last shreds of ''normal'' in my life.

Not like it was incredible to begin with, but it was mine. And now Hank knew about my powers. I just stepped right in front of the gun he was holding on Max and used my powers on the guy. Fantastic.

Isabel was saying something. I tried to snap out of it.

"- he's not gonna know what he saw and he isn't gonna remember it in the morning."

"Isabel --" Didn't they get it? "I can't go back there."


"Look, I know Hank's a jerk, but that's the only thing I had, and now you guys screwed that up for good."

"Just come back with us for now," Max said.

For what? More board games? "Max, for how long? I mean, 2 days, 3 days - what's that gonna do?"

"We'll figure something out --"

"Max, I don't belong there. I don't belong there, I don't belong here --"

I thought about Liz. Her lips on mine, her hair sliding through my fingers...

...her kissing Max.

"- I don't belong anywhere."

"Michael," Isabel again. "We understand why --"

I tried not to laugh. The homecoming queen understands. "No, you don't, Isabel," I said, shaking my head. "You don't understand."

"So you got a raw deal, no one's saying that you didn't." She was angry now. "God, Michael, you finally have a chance to change it. Would it kill you to ask for help, just once in your life?"

I thought about dinner at their house. That stupid board game.

Isabel's dad would never hesitate to give her a loan. In a game, maybe, but not in real life. Hell, the Evans were sure Max and Is were going to college. They'd probably call the local therapist if they said they were going to stay in Roswell instead.

That's why the game was fun to them. It wasn't even remotely close to their real lives.

I lived it every day.

"You know what, Isabel?" I said, getting out of the jeep. "It would."

"Michael," Max called out. "Where are you going?"

"Doesn't matter," I said.

I had one stop to make. Then I was going to see Liz.


I snuck back to the trailer. This time I used the window.

Hank was out cold on the couch. Move fast, Guerin --

I got into my room and closed the door quietly. Opened the closet and started rummaging past the junk. All I needed was a change of clothes and my sketchpads. I pulled them out and tucked them under my arm. Slipped through the window and into the open, heading for the road.

I could go to Liz's tonight. She'd help me think of something.

It was nice to have someone on my side for a change.


It was almost midnight when he tapped on the glass. I smiled. "Hey," I whispered, surprised. He climbed through the window. "I didn't expect to see you until --"

"What," he said, putting a bundle of papers on my desk. "No kiss?"

I jumped off the bed and obliged him.

"Thanks," he said, kissing my forehead and pulling me into a bear hug. "Thanks."

"You alright?" I asked. "I was worried about you."

"I can't go back to Hank's," he said.

"What?" I leaned back. "What happened?"

"He, uh --" He stepped back and cleared his throat. "He was yelling, so I yelled back - and Max and Is showed up."

"Why were they --"

"They just -- showed up," he said. "They were around."

I don't believe that. "Okay, and --"

"And I kinda used my powers in front of Hank," he finished.

"Oh my God. Michael --"

"I know," he said. "So I've gotta figure something -"

"You can stay here," I said immediately. "You can stay here."

"Liz," he said. "That's nice, but I can't hide from your parents forever."

"We'll be quiet," I said. "Come on, Michael, please? It'll be great. Please."

He pursed his lips and squinted a little. "Okay, just for tonight -"

"Oh fantastic," I breathed, jumping up and kissing him. He was smiling. "Michael, I'm so sorry -- about Hank, I mean, but I'm so glad you're out of there."

He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

...I should have told him everything about the flash...

Shut up, Liz. Don't spoil this. "C'mon," I said, pulling back the covers and climbing into my bed. "Let's get some sleep."

He walked next to me and touched my face softly, leaning down to kiss me.

Don't think about the flash. Don't think about it. Don't --

As long as we're together, nothing else matters.

It's all just magic when I think about you.

...when I'm not with you...I go crazy...

- no --

You're my dream girl, Liz.

And what if I believe you tonight?

Then we live happily ever after.

Me and Max. Kissing. All his memories about the two of us.

- NO --

The paper with the symbols on it.

The V constellation.

He broke the kiss and pushed me away from him. I fell back on the bed. "Michael --"

"You lied to me," he gasped, his breath coming in ragged breaths. "You lied to me."

"No -- Michael --"

"You kissed me," he hissed. "And you were thinking about Max -"

"Michael, I can explain --"

"Is that what you saw?" he demanded. His face was pure rage. "You saw the constellation with him? The symbols?"

"Yes," I whispered.

His mouth sagged open. I think I saw tears in his eyes. "You did," he whispered, backing up. His voice broke. "You lied to me."

"Michael," I whispered. The tears were hot in my eyes. I had to make him understand. I reached out for him. "Michael, please -"

He was crying. He shook his head, backing away from me. "I trusted you," he whispered.

Then he was running out the window, over the rooftop.

He was gone.

I sat on the bed, stunned. That didn't just happen.

That didn't just happen.

The tears were hot on my cheeks. Go after him.

"Michael," I called out, stumbling out of the bed and moving toward the window. I hit the desk and the bundle Michael brought fell, spilling papers all over the room. I looked down and stopped.

My face looked back up at me.

And another. And another. Michael's drawings. I didn't even know he was sketching.

All of them were of me.

Asleep, working at the Crashdown, smiling at him, sitting on my bed reading a book. There were dozens of them. He must have worked on them for weeks. Months.

I sank to my knees and fumbled through them, trying to pick them all up. There were too many. They spilled out of my arms. I choked back a sob and the sketches blurred in front of my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Michael," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."


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