Max looked at Jerry, slightly suspicious of his co-worker’s actions. He knew the man’s intentions were good, but Jerry had no idea that Max had no interest in dating anyone, let alone Jerry’s sister-in-law. Still, he couldn’t be completely rude to the woman, so he held out his right hand to shake hers. She grasped it in her own and gave his hand a warm squeeze. Max let go of her hand quickly and stood with the two women and Jerry, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. Thankfully, Becca broke the silence.

"So, Jerry tells us that you write the City Interest column," she started. Max nodded as he ran his left hand through his dark hair, spiking up the ends. The setting sun glinted off the gold band he was wearing. He paused for a minute, realizing that Becca noticed the ring as her eyes shifted a little. She’d have to be blind not to realize it was a wedding ring, and he could tell by the expression on her face that she would immediately back off from any advances. Satisfied, Max smiled to himself.

"Yeah, I write about different spots of interest in the city each day. Museum openings, displays, parades, restaurants, theater, whatever. It gets me into a lot of places for free. If you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting home," Max said, backing away. He nodded to the women. "It was nice to meet you both. I’ll see you at work tomorrow Jerry."

Max turned and walked towards where he’d left his bag. When they thought he was out of earshot Becca turned to Jerry and whispered loudly.

"You didn’t tell me he was married!" she hissed. Max grinned, his hearing was much better than the average human’s, so he could hear every word.

"He’s not married, at least not anymore. I think his wife died," Jerry said, trying to redeem himself.

"Jerry! How can you not know if he’s still married or not?"

"He’s not a big talker Becca. He’s a great guy, when we can get him to open up. I guess your halter top just didn’t do it for him," Jerry said dryly. Max grinned at the comment, the woman’s clothing had been a little over the top. He picked up his backpack and began to cut across the Lawn to the East side of the park. He knew the walk by heart, he often visited Central Park because it was the quietest place in New York City. He looked up at Cleopatra’s Needle, pointing straight up to the sky, the sandstone eroding away in the harsh city weather. His eyes settled on the hieroglyphics carved in the four sides of the column and he suddenly remembered the cave drawings back in Roswell. Both were messages from people of a lost culture. He wondered if someone had destroyed them or found them since they’d left ten years ago. He wondered if there was still anyone around to care.

Max looked both ways as he crossed Fifth Avenue to 79^th Street. His apartment was a few blocks down from the park. As he walked he tried not to think about Roswell because it inevitably brought him to thoughts of Liz. But he couldn’t stop the thoughts because they were engraved in his memory. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think of her, but lately he found that his thoughts would come back to her more and more often.

He wondered where she was. He wondered what she’d done after high school. He wondered if she was married. He wondered if she was happy. All his questions were ones he’d never know the answer to. When he and Michael had left Roswell they’d made a pact to never return or contact anyone from their home. Somehow, even though every molecule in his body protested, Max had managed not to contact anyone from their pasts. Max entered the greystone building where he lived and after grabbing his mail, he took the stairs up eight flights. The elevator was notoriously slow and he was never patient enough to wait. He dropped his bags on the floor and turned on a light as he entered his sparsely decorated apartment. As he flipped through his mail he sighed. Bill, bill, junk mail, letter addressed to M.E.

Max stopped, dropping the rest of the mail on the table. He recognized the handwriting immediately, it was Michael’s. And no one else sent him mail with his old initials. He had gone by the name Parker Maxwell for almost as long as he’d gone by Max Evans. Sometimes it felt like they really were two different people, two different lifetimes. Max tore open the letter and found a short note from Michael.

Max folded the letter and bowed his head, resting his forehead in his hands. Maybe Michael was right, maybe it was time to return to Venezuela. After they’d left Roswell, he and Michael had traveled to South America where Michael threw himself into trying to investigate alien sightings while Max occupied his time by writing articles. One of those articles that he’d sent to The New York Times brought him enough acclaim that the editor persuaded him to move to New York and work for the paper full time. He’d moved to New York five years earlier and hadn’t really made any effort to meet people. Venezuela was starting to look like a break from big city life. At least he knew one person there. Max pulled out his wallet and flipped through it, coming to the one picture of Liz that he still had. They’d had to leave Roswell so quickly that they literally had had only the clothes on their backs, but Max did have the one picture of Liz. It was getting faded and cracked with age. He worried that soon he wouldn’t have that picture, that it would crumble to dust, and he would forget what she looked like. He shook his head, he couldn’t possibly forget her. And he couldn’t possibly forget what had separated him from her.

May 2002
Roswell

Quietly, Max pulled a t-shirt from Liz’s dresser drawer. He didn’t want to wake her, so he’d dressed silently, glancing back at her every few seconds. She looked beautiful, her hair falling over her bare back as she snuggled up to a pillow. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Max grabbed his wallet and shoes. He scribbled a note quickly and laid it next to the bed. Leaning over, he kissed Liz’s bare shoulder quickly before stepping back. He couldn’t stop the happy grin from spreading over his face at the sight of the woman he loved, sleeping in bed as though the world was at peace. Retreating quietly, he went out Liz’s window and slid down the fire escape. He was tying his shoes just in time to see Michael pull up in the jeep. He jumped in and Michael pulled away. They drove in silence for a minute before they both turned to look at one another in the same instant. Both men grinned widely.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" Max asked, to which Michael merely nodded, his hands loosely gripping the steering wheel. Max watched the scenery go by as they drove to a nearby restaurant to pick up breakfast. He’d never felt more relaxed or happy, he felt like a normal guy, going with a friend to pick up some food for their girlfriends. By Michael’s posture and content face, Max knew he was feeling the same thing. He’d woken up early that morning, Liz sleeping against him, and had called Michael, knowing that he was with Maria. They’d agreed to meet up, and after attempts to find Alex failed, Michael volunteered to pick Max up. Max’s thoughts wandered until he noticed flashing lights behind them. He turned to look and found a dark sedan following closely behind.

"Michael, pull over. Were you speeding?" he asked. Michael shook his head.

"No, I was going under the speed limit. What’s going on?" he asked, puzzled. Max shrugged and turned to look as the driver’s side opened. It took a second for him to recognize who got out of the car, but he froze. Michael noticed and turned to look, his mouth setting in a hard line at the sight of Kathleen Topolski. Michael’s hand reached for the gearshift and his foot hovered above the clutch. Max held his hand out, stopping him from speeding off. Topolski walked up to the side of the car, holding up her badge. Max’s stomach turned a little at her smile, just a little too friendly and wide.

"Would you mind turning off the engine Mr. Guerin. Boys, please step out of the car," she said, her words orders and not requests. Michael’s eyes searched Max’s, looking for an answer and he nodded a little. What else could they do anyway? They certainly couldn’t run, she would either chase after them or have them arrested. They both got out of the jeep and walked around to face the FBI Agent.

"What’s this about?" Michael asked warily. Topolski’s smile froze on her face and Max felt his body still as she pulled out her gun, pointing it at both of them. They held up their hands automatically, frozen in place.

"What this is about is two years ago. This is about whatever secret you two and your friends have been hiding all these years. You’re coming with me," she said, her voice strangely calm. Max looked into her eyes and found them oddly hard. He glanced at Michael helplessly. Before either of them could respond, Max heard the grating sound of ties on gravel as another car pulled up. He turned his head to see the Sheriff get out of his truck, his hand immediately going to the gun on his hip at the sight of Max and Michael seemingly held by Topolski.

"Agent Topolski, what’s this about?" Valenti called, carefully walked around so that he had her in clear view. When she didn’t respond, he continued, pulling his own gun out and pointing it at the woman. "Ma’am, I’m going to ask you to lower your gun from these young men, you’re under arrest."

Max felt the tension in the air, the hair on the back of his neck rose as he sensed Toplolski’s movements seconds before she moved. It was almost like slow motion as she turned and fired her gun at the Sheriff, hitting him at close range in the chest. He fell down next to the sedan, hidden from view by the hood of the car. Max started to move towards the man, but Toploski turned her gun back, her eyes coldly telling him she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him too.

"I can help him!" Max yelled. She seemed to consider it for a second before shaking her head. "You can’t just let him die!"

"Yes, I can. And it seems to me that two young men accused of murder would be a good enough reason for them to run as far away from Roswell, New Mexico as possible. No one will wonder what happened to you after I file my report," Topolski said. Before Max could say anything, he saw Michael reach out with his hand. Topolski’s arm, holding the gun, flew to the side and Max watched as Michael clenched his fist and the gun went off, the shot flying wild. Max realized that Michael had crushed her hand as she screamed and crumpled to the ground. Not thinking, Max stood rooted in his spot as Michael moved towards the jeep.

"Max, come on! We’ve got to get out of here!" Michael yelled. Finally, Max tore his eyes away from the Sheriff still form and Topolski passed out in pain. He jumped into the jeep and Michael sped away. He felt numb as he looked back at the two vehicles on the road.

"What are we doing? Go back, we can help Valenti!" Max said. Michael shook his head.

"No, we can’t. Unless you’re prepared to kill Topolski we can’t go back. She’ll blame us and we’ll be exposed. That means Isabel, Maria, Liz and Alex get exposed. We have to leave."

"What do you mean leave? We can’t just leave. I can’t leave Liz," Max said, the very thought causing his heart to stop. Michael looked at Max angrily.

"Do you think I like this idea? Do you think I want to leave Maria? Or Is and Alex and Liz for that matter? Maxwell, we have to protect them, we have to leave," Michael said firmly. Max finally nodded, the thought of separating from the others sickened him, but he realized they didn’t have a choice. Max finally shook his head to clear it.

"Isabel. She can still sense us. We need to block her so she can’t find us," Max said, his voice sounding wooden in the wind. Michael nodded and they both concentrated until Max effectively blocked his sister’s presence from the back of his mind. He missed her immediately. He couldn’t even fathom what it was going to be like to miss Liz. He looked at Michael and saw his painful expression mirrored.

"How can we do this to them? What about all the plans we had?" Max said, feeling more and more helpless as they put distance between themselves and Roswell. Michael paused for a minute.

"We can be in Mexico in a few hours. We have to do this, we have to protect them," Michael said, his voice wavering a little. Then he caught Max’s eyes with his.

"They’ll have each other."

March 2013
New York City

"Mike, I’m telling you, musicians do get the ladies," Alex smirked, giving his wife a quick glance. Mike grinned back, glancing at Isabel.

"So, that’s how you got Aunt Isabel?" he asked. Alex nodded seriously, strumming his guitar quietly as Mike watched.

"She’d tell it different if you asked her, but the musician part’s what won her over," Alex said confidently, his eyebrows raised. They were sitting on the flat roof of Liz and Maria’s apartment building after dinner. Liz and Isabel were cleaning up the pizza boxes and plates while Max and Beth huddled over their schoolbooks off to the side. They were sprawled on their stomachs on a blanket, their heads bowed over a history book. Mike shook his head, he couldn’t imagine why his sister was so engrossed in anything involving school. He grinned, suspecting it might have a little something to do with Max. He glanced at Alex, who was humming a tune along with the notes he played, and Mike wondered if Alex ever felt outnumbered. They, along with Max, were the only two guys in their family. He sometimes wondered if Alex wished that he’d had a son. Mike glanced at Belle and his eyes softened. He wouldn’t wish for his aunt and uncle to have had anyone but Belle. He knew that Beth had Max to watch after her, but Mike knew it was his job to protect Belle, and he took his job very seriously. Belle chased after a napkin that was picked up by the wind and Mike watched her laugh, her red hair blowing in the breeze.

Mike had to admit, he was a little jealous of Belle’s happiness. She knew what it was like to have two parents, a father and a mother. Mike had never known the father he was named for. He knew what his mother had told him, and he understood why his father and Max’s father had left Maria and Liz. He didn’t understand the sadness that seemed to overcome his mother and Liz at times. He knew they missed them, but he couldn’t miss something he’d never known. He shrugged, he would probably never understand what his aunt and mother had gone through. That didn’t stop him from being grateful for all they’d done for them. He blinked, bringing his attention back to his uncle, who was describing the finer points of tuning a guitar. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his mother, Liz, Isabel and Belle taking the stair down to the apartments just below, on the top floor.

"Have you heard from your mother lately?" Liz asked Isabel. She shook her head, frowning slightly.

"No, she should be calling soon. She and Dad were going to be coming up again," Isabel replied, pushing through Liz’s apartment door after her. Her breath caught for a minute as it always did when she came into where Liz and Max lived. Pictures of her brother were everywhere. It made her heart ache to look around. She knew that Liz had put them up so that Max would know who his father was, but Isabel also knew that Liz had them up because she had never been able to fully move on since Max and Michael disappeared. Isabel sighed, she missed them too. Following Liz into the small kitchen, Isabel gave her daughter a stern look. Belle had hopped onto the counter while Liz put glasses and plates into the dishwasher. Belle gave her a broad smile and Isabel just shook her head. Maria came into the kitchen, carrying the last of the plates.

"The kids are still on the roof. Beth and Max can’t possibly be torn away from their homework and Mike is learning all there is to know about groupies from Alex," Maria said archly. Isabel groaned a little, but she wasn’t surprised. Alex had an odd sense of humor that no one appreciated more than she did. He’d made her laugh since the day she’d met him and since they’d been married ten years ago, he had not disappointed her. The phone rang and Liz walked over, wiping her wet hands on a towel before picking up the earpiece.

"Hello? Diane! Isabel and I were just talking about you! It’s wonderful to hear from you too," Liz said, her eyes lighting up. Isabel motioned with her hand, indicating to Liz that she wanted to speak to her mother when Liz was finished. Liz nodded and Isabel watched as her daughter slid off the counter and walked into the main room of the apartment. Isabel followed her and smiled as Belle studied the wall of photos. Belle had a fascination with the pictures of their past, every time she came over to the Parker residence she would stare at the snapshots on the wall. This time she was focused on the picture taken at Prom where Isabel was holding Alex and Max was dipping Liz while Maria perched on Michael’s back. Belle rested her arms on the short bookshelf just under the pictures. Isabel stood next to her daughter, silently waiting. Belle was a lively girl, but the traces and memories of her parent’s past had a tendency to calm her.

"This one was taken the night they left," Belle said, her voice very quiet. Isabel nodded, knowing that Belle was stating a fact, that she knew all about what had happened. Belle looked up at her mother, her eyes sad.

"You still miss them, don’t you?" she asked. Isabel knelt down and nodded, struggling not to cry. She still felt the absence of Max and Michael so keenly. The void had been filled by the feeling of the children, like a constant warm hum in the background, but she still missed them in the back of her mind. Belle gave her a wide smile, so like her father’s that Isabel couldn’t help but smile back.

"I think they’ll be back some day Mom, they’ll come back," Belle said confidently, her head nodding. Isabel ruffled her hair, hoping her daughter was right and stood as Liz walked towards them with the phone. She eagerly took it and greeted her mother while Liz turned to Belle.

"Are you looking forward to the field trip tomorrow to the Museum of Natural History?" Liz asked. Belle shrugged.

"I don’t know, all that science stuff is more like Beth and Max," her eyes brightened suddenly. "But I can’t wait for the scavenger hunt in the Park afterwards! You’re still going, right?"

"Yes, I’m still going," Liz affirmed, satisfying Belle’s hopeful expression. Belle grinned and ran after her mother, reaching for the phone to talk to her grandmother. Liz looked up at the pictures on the wall and then down at her hand, twisting the gold ring on her finger and contemplating the shiny metal. She started to pull it towards her knuckle, but she stopped before it even resisted against the skin and bone. She drew a shaky breath and her hand dropped. She couldn’t. She still wasn’t ready to let that piece of Max go. Not today anyway.