Disclaimer: According to the disclaimer in the prologue, they're not mine. You really think that's changed?

The first thing Mia noticed was the smell.

The scent of the air she knew always smelled of smoke from the fires that nearly constantly burned because no one had enough water to spare to try and put them out choked the air, and garbage that no one cared enough to try and do anything with always rotted on what was left of the roads and the in piles around the shambles of the building. The nasty scent of whatever it was the aliens used for fuel, something that stunk like sulfur only with more of a rotten eggs smell to it, hung all around as the exhaust ate through the atmosphere at an alarming rate and killed whatever vegetation tried to use the fumes for photosynthesis. But most prevalent in the air she was use to, was the smell of death—something like coppery blood and three month old meat—always, always was there no matter where you were.

The oxygen that Mia pulled into her lungs before she could even force herself to open her eyes, held none of this. It was, at least to her, blessedly clean, with no traces of blood, death or sulfur stench to it. In fact, the air smelled—good. Like the hamburgers she could remember her Uncle Michael making at one of their family gatherings when she had been a very little girl.

Thinking about her Uncle Michael reminded her of his namesake. “Mike!” Mia cried, sitting up straight and immediately regretting it as the world spun around and around making her dizzy and sick to her stomach. She slumped back to the ground with a muttered curse that she had heard her mother use a few times, and closed her eyes.

The banging of the of metal on brick sounded like a shot through the still air, and Mia, ignoring the ringing in her head this time, bolted upright and then staggered to her feet, an almost half-forgotten memory of her brother bleeding filling her mind. Pressing her hand against something cold and metallic, the young woman quickly scanned the area, her mind assessing the lay of the land, just like Grandpa Jim had taught her so many years ago, even before the war had started, and she had dreamed of growing up and being a Sheriff just like her beloved Grandfather.

Her eyes quickly scanned and fell on her brother, slumped against a wall, his dark head slumped forward until his chin was against his chest. Disregarding the once over of wherever she was, Mia scrambled toward her brother, bile rising in her throat. What if he was dead? Oh God, he couldn’t be dead! She couldn’t do this by herself, she needed Mike…

A muffled groan reached her ears just as she collapsed next to her brother, and he lifted his head from his chest to look at her with his clear blue eyes so much like their father’s, a small grimace pulling at his features.

“Ow?” He muttered, just as a grunt of surprise reached their ears. The Whitmans looked up, and found themselves looking into the dark eyes of Michael Guerin.

@-}--}---

Michael would never admit it, but he actually rather liked his job flipping burgers at the Crashdown. It brought in a decent amount of money, and the work wasn’t anything too strenuous. And even though he would never admit it out loud, or even to himself, getting to see Maria in a non-alien, non-school way was actually sort of a plus. Even if she was pissed at him half the time. Like now.

“Michael, you know, when the garbage gets taller then I am, it’s usually considered time to take it out.” Maria Deluca informed the cook, her hands on her hips and her eye brows hitting her hairline.

“Well, if it’s only as tall as you, it can’t be that much.” Michael shot back, not turning to face her as he flipped an Eclipse on the grill.

“Excuse me!?” Maria probably had the cute pissed kitten look on her face, Michael decided. Did he want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he was paying attention to her grumbling to see it?

Yeah, he decided, as he turned around to face the fuming blonde, it was definitely worth it. Her emerald green eyes were flashing with barely suppressed fury, and her fully pink lips pressed into a thin line, and a angry flush colored her cheeks. Oh yes, it was definitely worth paying attention to see.

“Michael, while you might live in filth, I refuse to work in it, so would you please take out the garbage?!” Maria’s hands were on her hips, and she looked like she was going to start cussing at any time now. The tall alien barely kept his smirk under control as he crossed his arms over his chest and lifted an eyebrow.

“If you’re so hell bent on the garbage going out, why don’t you take it out?” He asked.

“Because that’s not part of my job—it’s part of yours. And Lord knows I do enough for you as it is, I am not doing your job as well.” Maria informed him, looking like she could spit knives if given the opportunity.

Michael knew he shouldn’t argue with her on that point, but couldn’t resist. “Exactly what are you getting at, DeLuca?”

Maria, however, appeared to have enough of the game, and turned around on her heel and stalked out of the kitchen, letting the door slam behind her as she did. Michael’s eyebrows took an excursion into his hairline, and he briefly entertained the thought of going after her, maybe to apologize, but more then likely just to continue the argument.

But the blonde pixie hadn’t really looked like she was in the mood to argue with her quasi-sometimes alien boyfriend, so Michael, for once, decided that it might not be a real good idea to completely piss her off. When he remembered that it was near the end of the month, he really decided that it was a bad idea, and opted instead to take out the garbage.

Collecting the bag, the young man headed toward the exit, the bag in his hand. He shoved the door open with more force then he had intended, and it banged against the wall. A soft scurrying, something like the noise a mouse would make as it ran for cover in a garbage can, reached his ears, but immediately forgot about when he distinctly heard Maria Deluca’s voice gleefully sing out “THANK YOU!”

The young man rolled his eyes and stepped out into the ally way—and stopped cold.

Two teenagers in black leather sat leaning against the wall, blood running down the boy’s face. They were both decked out in ragged black leather, and had the same dark brown/black hair, even though the girl’s was longer and curlier, while the boys was short and slightly spiky.

Surprised, the young man grunted. Two sets of identical blue eyes looked up at him as he stepped into view, and he stared back at them, suddenly struck by the resemblance the younger man bore to Alex Whitman.

Before he could say anything however, the girl leapt to her feet and flung her arms around his neck shrieking joyfully.

“UNCLE MICHAEL!”

@-}--}---

“UNCLE MICHAEL!”

Maria Deluca’s head jerked up in surprise, and she caught her best friend, Liz Parker’s eye. Both girls scanned the mostly empty café and the other waitress before giving each other another look. That was the best thing about being friends for as long as they had been, Maria decided, heading for the back door, sure that the dark haired waitress was right behind her. You could communicate with each other without speaking. Like now.

Reaching the door of that lead to the outside, Maria pushed herself up on her toes and peered through the little glass window. She couldn’t see anything and she shrugged, before pushing the door open and stepping into the ally way, Liz a step behind.

“Michael, did you hear…” Maria trailed off staring at the scene in front of her. A petite girl with curly dark hair and dressed in black leather had her arms flung around Michael’s next her face lit up in joy and she was apparently attempting to squeeze the life out of him. Out of the corner of her eye, the pixie blonde noticed a young man with dark hair in the same type of outfit leaning against the wall.

“Um, do you two know each other?” Liz asked, grabbing the girl’s attention away from Michael. The girl, whoever she was, shrieked again, and threw herself forward, catching Maria in much the same bone crushing hug she had inflected on Michael.

“AUNT MARIA!” She squeezed for a moment, before moving on to Liz, almost breaking the little waitress in half. “AUNT LIZ! OH MY GOD! MIKE IT WORKED!”

“Mia.” Maria and Liz both jumped at the voice, scanning for the source. The young man that had been sitting had now managed to pull himself to his feet, one arm bracing him self against the wall as she watched the jubilant girl. “You realize that they have no idea who you are, and that you probably just scared the hell out of them, right?”

“Alex!?” Maria shrieked, staring at the young man in shock, the enthusiastic young woman gone from her mind as she stared at Mike.

“Alex, what happened to your head?” Liz asked in concern, moving toward the young man she thought was her best friend.

“And why are you dressed like that?” Maria asked, cocking one eyebrow in amusement.

“And who is this? Getting over Izzy already?” Michael smirked pointing to the girl who stood off to one side, staring from the three teens back to “Alex” and then back again. Then she walked toward the young man and slipped an arm around his waist, so that he leaned against her and not the wall.

“Mike? Why do they keep calling you Alex?” She asked, her voice shaking like a leaf.

“Mike? Alex, why does she think your name is Mike? That’s Mike.” Maria told the girl, pointing at Michael, who rolled his eyes and snorted.

“No, that’s Uncle Michael—he doesn’t like to be called Mike, you know that Aunt Maria.” The girl told her, blue eyes wide and innocent.

“Um yeah.” Liz muttered, and then she was in front of the two leather clad people, her eyes wide. She studied Mike for a long moment, before catching her lower lip between her teeth. “You’re not Alex, are you?”

“Of course he’s not—who’s Al…” The girl trailed off, before gasping softly, her wide blue eyes flying to Mike’s face.

“No, I’m not Alex.” Mike didn’t respond to the girl’s questioning look, moving away from her to stand on his own.

“Who are you?” Maria’s sounded very, very soft even to her own ears.

“Mike. Michael Alexander Whitman. Alex was…is my father.” He told them, watching their faces blanch.

“Wait. I’m…” Maria started, her mouth opening.

“The Granolith.” Liz said, her voice beckoning no rebuke.

“You were right, Aunt Liz.” The girl told them, grinning. “It worked—well, it sort of worked. I mean, it got us to the past!”

“Mia. Hush.” Mike told the girl, who stuck out her tongue at him, before flashing a smile that seemed familiar but wasn’t at the same time.

“Mia? Amelia?” Maria needed to think about something else, anything else, then the idea that her best friend’s son was standing in front of her.

The girl shook her head, dark curls flying. “Maria.”

“After me?” Maria couldn’t help but be slightly pleased. That’s when she realized what Alex’s son’s name was.

“Wait. Rewind. Michael?”

“What?” Guerin asked, looking over at her.

“No, not you. You.” She pointed toward Mike. “Your name is Michael?”

“Hey—Whitman named his kid after me? Cool.” Michael Guerin piped up. Maria looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, before looking back at Mia.

“Well, she’s named after me.”

“And Liz.” Mia told her, grinning. “Maria Elizabeth Whitman.”

“Cool.” Maria nodded, grinning. “I’ll have to remember to thank Alex when you’re born.”

“You did.” Mike told her, his dark blue eyes, eyes that he had gotten from his father, sparkling.

“What…um…what are you doing here?” Liz asked her eyes wide and slightly scared.

“We here for the same reasons Max came back, Liz.” Mike told her softly, stepping toward her. Liz’s face fell, her eyes filling with tears. Mia shot a glare at her brother, before looking over at Liz.

“We’re here to save the future.” She clarified, her wide blue eyes flickering over the trio.

“From what?” Michael asked.

“Evil aliens.” Mia told him.

“You know, it sounds so campy when you say it like that.” Mike piped up, sounding so much like the man that had fathered him that Liz’s mouth dropped open.

“Liz? Michael? Maria? What are you doing back here?” Max’s Evan’s voice sounded from inside the kitchen, when the door promptly swung open, allowing the young alien to step through the door, followed by his sister Isabel and Tess Harding.

“Max…well…” Liz started, but was drowned out when Mia let out an unearthly howl.

It wasn’t the joyous shriek she had pierced the air with when she had tried to strangle Maria, Michael and Liz with her hugs—this was more like the scream of a madwoman, homicidal and blood crazed. Before anyone could react, Mia dove past them all, falling on Max with fingers hooked like claws, her nails raking across his body as she tore at him, her screams echoing through the ally.

Max tried to grab at her hands but she was far stronger then she looked, and ripped free, dragging her fingernails across his face, drawing blood. The sight of the bright red liquid spurred her on, and she howled again, drawing her fingers inward and swinging at the man.

“MONSTER! MONSTER! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!”

Her elbow caught him in the eye, and her open palm smacked against his nose, and a distinctive popping noise was heard. But Mia paid it no heed, just continued her merciless attack on the young man, grabbing a handful of his hair in her hands and ripping.

“What the hell is going on!?” Isabel shrieked, moving forward to grab the girl off of her brother. Tess stared in shock, her mouth hanging open.

Michael moved to pull her off of Max as well, but Mike’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. The young man stepped forward and caught his sister’s wrist effectively stopping her from attacking Max. Evans, for his part, fell back, swallowing hard and staring at the petite girl in shock and horror.

“Mia. Mia, stop.” Mike ordered his little sister, as she struggled against him.

“Who the hell are you!?” Isabel demanded, dropping down next to her brother and glaring daggers at the girl. Mia, for her part, kicked her foot out, as if trying to nail Isabel in jaw.

“That’s none of your concern, whore!”

“MIA! That is ENOUGH!” Mike sounded more forceful then his father had ever dreamed of as he jerked his sister around in a circle to face him. Maria blinked at the blazing fury in the girl’s eyes, blue flames spitting fire.

Liz had already run to Max’s side, and Tess was hovering over them, looking more then a little confused.

“What the hell was that all about?!” Michael demanded, and Mia whipped her head around to glare at him. “And you had BETTER take back what you just said to Isabel!”

“TAKE IT BACK!? TAKE IT BACK!? YOU WANT ME TO TAKE IT BACK!? SHE KILLED MARIA! SHE KILLED YOUR WIFE, AND YOU WANT ME TO TAKE IT BACK!?” Mia’s voice rang off the rafters and bounced back to them.

“What is going on?!” Tess demanded when the girl’s words sunk in.

Michael and Maria gaped at Mia, and Isabel’s gasp of shock and denial was quite clear. Mike looked up when he heard Tess speak, and his eyes landed on the white-faced blonde. She caught him looking, and she opened her mouth to speak again, but was silenced when Mike spun his little sister around to face her, his own face lit up like Alex’s did when he was uncommonly happy about something.

Mia’s eyes got huge, and her mouth hung open in amazement and utter joy. She broke free from her brother’s arms and darted forward again. Liz made a move to cover Max, but Evans wasn’t Mia’s intended target this time. The joyful cry the curly haired girl had given when she had seen Michael, Maria and Liz was nothing compared to shriek of pure happiness she let at as she flung herself at Tess, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. This time, Mike didn’t roll his eyes at his sister’s exuberance, but followed her, hugging both women as well, his eyes suspiciously bright.

The amazement of seeing Alex Whitman’s leather clad children from the future hugging Tess like there was no tomorrow was nothing compared to the sheer incredulity Maria experienced when she was finally able to make out what Mia Whitman was sobbing over and over again.

“MOMMA!”