It was a "V". It was beautiful. He had looked up at these stars all his life, had searched them. He used to come to the desert to feel closer to home, and his skin would itch with expectancy as soon as the dry desert air touched it because he believed if he just looked hard enough, wanted it bad enough, it would appear.

He used to sit there under the stars for hours until his eyes burned, and his neck ached, and every crease in his clothes, every hair on his head, was coated with sand the wind lifted up and wrapped around him like a blanket. Nothing had ever appeared to him during all those nights he spent there, and he was used to feeling angry about it, like he was about everything else in his f---ed up life. It was all he knew of himself.

Anger.

And sometimes disappointment.

Always loneliness.

But he rarely, if ever, admitted to that last one. Because if he did he’d be admitting to a weakness, and that was something he couldn’t accept in himself.

But tonight he wasn’t angry, or disappointed, or lonely... because he saw it... could trace it with his fingers. Home. The sight of it almost brought tears to his eyes. It stood out against the velvet backdrop of the midnight sky, so bright, so close. His people. His home.

He laid there now under that "V" of stars, the sand hard and uneven under his back, one arm behind his head, the other stretched towards the sky, his fingers parted and bordering the shape of his destiny.

They knew they were here. They were looking for them. Although he couldn’t "read" the symbol they had burned in the grass, he knew it was a sign for them. A sign that they were coming.

Michael allowed himself a small smile. Maybe... Maybe it would be his father who finally came for them.

He heard Max shuffle his feet behind him, waiting to be acknowledged and invited. Michael squinted at him, sat up, and smacked the sand beside him. Max accepted the offer and sat. They stared up at the sky together.

"They know we’re here, Max."

"I know."

"We’re going home..."

Max was silent. Michael looked over at him and scowled. "You do want to go home, don’t you?"

"Well, we don’t know for sure if that’s going to happen..."

"Of course it’s going to happen. It’s got to. Why else would they contact us..."

"I don’t know..."

"Then stop arguing with me!"

"Michael I’m not..."

"You are! Can’t you just let me enjoy this?!" Michael ran his hands through his hair, angrily, a shower of sand falling down his back.

"Max..." he began calmly, "You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with the Evanses and you don’t belong with Liz. You know it’s true. Stop fighting it. It will make leaving worse."

"Could you really do it?"

"What?"

"Just leave..."

"Yes."

"Even if-"

"Yes." Michael swallowed then asked, "...Even if what?"

"Even if you found a reason to stay?"

"I haven’t."

"What about Maria?"

"What about her? She’s a girl. She’s a human. It matters more to me to belong... to know where I come from then some girl... Those things used to matter to you too, Max."

"They do matter to me."

"Apparently not enough..." Michael stood and brushed himself off.

"You remember... at the Crashdown... I told you I thought Riverdog was one of us... I thought he was our father. My father. He wasn’t. I think I already knew he wasn’t. I wanted him to be." Michael turned and looked down at Max. "If you tell Isabel that I’m upset because Riverdog’s not my Dad I swear to God I’ll kill you."

Max smiled at that, and stopped. "Are you upset?"

"I don’t know... No... I just..." He swallowed, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes against the stars. "I wanted what you have with... your 'parents'... but I wanted it to be real..." He opened his eyes. "I need this Max... I can’t take it here with Hank anymore, ok? I feel like I’m gonna explode half the time..."

They were silent for awhile and Michael sat back down. He played with the frayed ends of his shoe strings, unraveling them and re-raveling them without touching them. He sighed.

"How does Isabel feel about all this?"

"She’s excited... of course... But we haven’t found Nasedo yet... Michael... I just don’t think you should get your hopes up."

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"Be patient."

"I’m sick of being patient. I’ve been patient. It sucks... You asked me if I could just leave... Well, let me ask you a question..."

"What?"

"Could you really stay? Seriously, Max. If they came right now. Could you?"

"I don’t know... I’m kind of hoping I have more time than now to decide..."

"That’s another thing... what if we don’t get to decide? I mean what if they just take us?"

Back to Area 51 (Section II)