She could tell something wrong. It was in the way her heart thundered in her chest, the stale taste of fear on her tongue, that hard feeling of recoil in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right with her babies. Something was happening to them, and she was powerless to stop it.

It had started a week ago, when Michael was around a lot more than usual. Not that she didn't like Michael. But Michael was independent now, and had tried to prove his point of being independent by staying away from their house. Yet for the past few mornings, she'd woken up to find Michael in his usual spot on Max's floor.

And then her babies stopped talking to her, got quieter than usual. Things had been strained with Max since the grease fire back in January, but now he was silent. And Izzy, her beloved Izzy...she was losing the daughter of her heart too. Isabel had never had secrets from her. But now, both of her babies were close-mouthed.

She rocked back and forth in her chair, looking out at the light of the moon.

Max had run out of the house, like the hounds of Hell were chasing after him two nights ago. He hadn't even come home last night. Jeff and Nancy Parker

didn't know where he was. And neither did Jim Valenti, even though the sheriff had showed a marked interest in her son ever since January, if not before. So she sat in her rocking chair, as she had the nights her babies were in the State Home, waiting for the adoption to go through, as she had all those nights after her two miscarriages and the stillbirth that resulted in her only to term pregnancy. And she waited, because it was all she could do.

Even Philip noticed it, and usually, as wonderful as her husband was, these things escaped him. He didn't feel that fear like she did, the fear she knew wasn't her own because she'd never been this terrified, but he knew something was wrong, something on that same basic instinct that affirmed her feeling that she and Philip were meant to find their babies on the road that night, that Max and Isabel were sent here to become their family.

And now something was wrong with her babies, and she couldn't do a thing about it.

She rocked back and forth, back and forth, remembering how she'd cradled Izzy on her lap that first night, listening to the little girl cry and cry, though Isabel didn't have the words to say what was wrong. And how she'd cradled Max the same way, night after night, even after he had the words, because all he wanted was to go home. And how gradually, her babies seemed to forget that they'd ever belonged anywhere else. But she saw that look in Max's unearthly golden eyes...that look that was always turned elsewhere, as if he couldn't decide where he wanted to belong. And now those beautiful eyes were missing...those beautiful eyes that she'd give anything to see again...

Her face was wet with tears, but she didn't notice. The wind began to rise, but she didn't feel it. She was locked tightly inside a cocoon, focusing on that sharp stab of fear that ate at her heart. Someone was hurting her son, and there was nothing she could do.

Nothing but wait.

And rock, back and forth. And as she rocked, she hummed a lullaby that she'd sung to her babies those first rough nights, because that's what mothers did.

Hush Little Baby, don't say a word
Momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird...

She didn't know if he could hear her, but somehow, she thought he could.

I love you, Max. I love you. Hush, little baby...Momma will make it all better, and you'll be home safe...

And in an abandoned Air Force base, buried deep beneath the desert floor, a wan figure stopped twitching in his restless sleep. And for a moment, there was a slow, sweet smile on the boy's face. As if he did know. And he would make it out alive, if only to tell his momma how much he loved her.

Back to Area 51 (Section II)