Disclaimer: Roswell, its characters and situations, are owned by the WB. No infringement intended.

Author's Note: This story is the part of an evolving future storyline. All the stories currently in this storyline are included in order on the Future Arc page.

"Grandma," he said, clambering up into her lap, "What’s mollopolly?"

"Mollopolly?"

"Mollopolly," he repeated, pointing to the kitchen table where the crowd of middle grandchildren were playing an intense board game.

"Oh, Mo-no-po-ly," she corrected gently, sounding out the syllables so he would understand.

He gave her one of his intense looks, the one that reminded her most of his father as a little boy.

So she smiled and returned his serious look, then settled him more comfortably into her lap. After a moment, her gaze wandered back to his older cousins and their cutthroat board game. Sparks literally flew as tempers flared. Tiny pewter game pieces clattered across the table, and paper money fluttered to the floor as the twins arm-wrestled over mortgage rates. She could see why her youngest grandchild was confused by whatever was going on at the kitchen table.

"Monopoly is a game about real estate, about houses and property," she explained.

He nodded carefully, then looked longingly at his cousins. "I wanted to be the puppy, but they said I’m too little."

Knowing from her own experience how hard it was to be the youngest child, she hugged him. "You probably *are* too little, honey. It’s a complicated game. How about if I read you a story instead?"

His face scrunched up as he thought about her suggestion. She smiled as she watched him. He was such a thoughtful little boy, she thought not for the first time; so much like his father.

After a minute, he tilted his head at her and asked hopefully, "Can we read Daddy’s Book?"

Unsurprised by his choice, she nodded, and he slid off her lap and scurried out of the living room. She could hear the pattering of his footed pajamas all the way up the stairs to his bedroom.

While he was searching for his favorite book, she sat back in her chair, rocking slowly back and forth, watching her middle grandchildren play their fierce game of Monopoly. The three oldest Guerin children, Nicole, Stephen, and Leo, were arguing vehemently over something; Nicole seemed to be trying to assert herself as the eldest around the table, and the twins were having none of it. The two Whitmans, Matt and Anna, were both trying to mediate. And the youngest Guerin, Molly, was sitting back, quietly observing them all usual.

The five middle children had always been close, Diane reflected. Of course, that had a lot to do with the fact that they were all relatively close in age....

She and Philip had talked about it once and had decided that it also had to do with the fact that they all seemed to approach the world from the same place, from the security of their happy, rambunctious families. (Not that she and Philip hadn’t done everything they could have to make sure Max and Isabel grew up in a happy family; they’d even tried to help Michael, although they hadn’t been able to do as much as they would’ve liked.) It was different, though. Her grandchildren seemed to have never had doubts about their places in the universe. Which she knew had not been the case for their parents.

Sometimes (even though she knew that things couldn’t have been different because of who her children were) she wished that they had told her and Philip sooner. They could’ve helped. She was sure they could’ve helped.

A burst of laughter from the kitchen drew Diane’s attention back to her grandchildren. She smiled as Nikki poured out the box of paper money over Stephen’s head. She laughed quietly to herself over their antics and thought how wonderful it was that it had all turned out for the best.

Her grandchildren were living proof that it had all turned out for the best.

There had been more times over the years than she could have counted when she had thought she wouldn’t have any grandchildren.

Her daughter Isabel had dated a lot in high school, but Diane had known (from what Isabel *didn’t* say in their many conversations on the subject) that her daughter had been terrified of getting close to anyone.

And her son Max had just hung out with his best friend Michael. (Not that she had worried along those lines; not that she would ever worry along those lines. She would have accepted her son no matter what he was.) She had just worried that Max was too shy and too quiet to open up to anyone, let alone a girl. God knew he didn’t open up to her, his own mother, even when she’d begged him to after the kitchen fire.

Then there was Michael, the boy she had come to think of as another son after he finally allowed them to get to know him better. Michael had always seemed too angry to ask for help. He had seemed like the last person to let anyone in.

But Max had found Liz, then Isabel had found Alex, and finally Michael had found Maria. And she and Philip had grandchildren....

Josh came back then, dragging his three panda bears and a dog-eared copy of "Where The Wild Things Are."

She opened her arms to him, and he climbed back into her lap. But before she’d read through five pages of his favorite book -- even before the rumpus, which was his favorite part -- he had fallen asleep.

She rocked back and forth, holding the baby of the family against her heart, reflecting again (as she did so often) on how much her little grandson resembled her son.

She had told Philip once that Josh was God’s way of letting them know what Max had been like before they had found him and Isabel by the side of that desert road. All of their grandchildren were God’s way of letting them in on the whole story about their three children. She remembered Philip’s reaction to her revelation. He had just kissed her on the forehead and shaken his head indulgently.

But she knew he loved watching their grandchildren grow up as much as she did. And she knew that some part of him (admittedly, probably a less rational or legal part of him) agreed with her revelation.

Loud voices interrupted Diane’s musings, and she looked up to see that the board game had degenerated almost into fisticuffs. She wondered if she shouldn’t intercede since she was the only adult left in the house since the others had decided to take a leisurely after-dinner walk an hour ago. Not really wanting to disturb the little boy sleeping in her lap, Diane was unsure of what to do.

Then Claudia appeared beside her chair.

Her eldest grandchild kissed her lightly on the cheek, then bent down to kiss Josh’s cheek too. "Don’t get up, Grandma Diane," she whispered. "I’ll break it up."

And Diane knew that she would. Claudia was that way.

Claudia was her father’s daughter through and through. Wise, gentle, mature. Sometimes, though, Diane looked into Claudia’s beautiful dark eyes and saw more than simple maturity. She saw the shadow of some future tragedy, and usually she dismissed the shadow as the product of an overactive imagination, but sometimes she wondered....

Diane looked over at the kitchen table, and noted with relief that Claudia had defused the situation, and a calmer version of the Monopoly game was underway once again.

And all of a sudden, Diane remembered another Monopoly game, around a different kitchen table, so many years ago....

"All right," Isabel said. "As long as I’m back on Park Place, I think I’ll buy a hotel."

Philip glanced at Isabel then at Max, and the two Evans males exchanged a wry look. "Oh, you’re killing us here, Isabel," Philip said, but he was smiling.

Max laughed. "She’s ruthless. You gotta watch out for her."

And Philip laughed too and agreed, "Man, oh, man!"

"Okay, let’s regroup," Diane said, interrupting their banter. She looked around the table, and her gaze fell on the silent member of their group. "Uh, it’s Michael. Your turn."

Michael rolled the dice and landed on a property owned by Philip.

"Okay. Ah, let’s see." Philip reviewed his real estate holdings. "Atlantic Avenue with four houses. That’s $975 you owe."

Smiling at how her husband became so serious about these board games, Diane made sympathetic noises in Michael’s direction. "Oh, ouch. A lot."

But Michael missed her sympathetic look and noises. He was staring at the few pieces of paper money in his hand as if he’d never seen them before. "How about I just catch you next time around?" he asked Philip.

Philip looked nonplussed. "You’ll catch me on the next time around?"

Thinking Michael was joking, Diane smiled and teased him: "That’s a new rule."

But Max knew it wasn’t a joke. He said quietly, almost hesitantly, "Michael, we ... we usually pay on arrival."

And Isabel also knew it wasn’t a joke. She jumped in and offered: "That’s okay; I’ll lend it to him."

"Isabel, no." Philip was adamant. "No lending except from the bank." He looked over at Michael’s meager lot in the game. "But he doesn’t have any houses to mortgage, so...."

Michael glared at him. "Just rub it in, huh?"

His bitterness surprised Philip and Diane. Philip’s next words revealed how disturbed he was because they were less adamant, almost thoughtful. "I’m not trying to rub it in, Michael," he said quietly.

Michael still glared at him. "What’s the big deal? Why can’t she just lend me money? It’s a game."

And that put Philip’s back up. "Well," he said, "The deal is, in this house, we play by the rules."

"Well, I don’t want to play anymore," Michael stated, throwing down his paper money and getting up from the table.

As he turned to leave, Diane grabbed his arm. "Michael, wait."

But he shook her off and stormed out of the kitchen.

Isabel ran after him, and the three left sitting at the kitchen table could hear snatches of their conversation.

"Michael. Michael!" Isabel called. "You didn’t have to be so rude to my dad."

Michael snorted. "Rude? He was sticking it to me for no reason."

"It was a game!" Isabel cried. She sounded confused by the jumble of emotions they could all hear in Michael’s voice. By then, Max had gotten up to follow his sister and best friend out of the room.

And the rest of that conversation faded into the mists of memory....

Thinking back now as she rocked back and forth, Diane realized that the reactions of both her children to that Monopoly game had been typical of who they were then and had presaged who they had become. Like the caring, considerate girl she was, Isabel had tried to mother Michael, while Max had observed his best friend’s outburst quietly, with an empathetic, almost pained expression on his face.

And Michael ... Michael’s reactions had been typical of who he was then too. Defensive, gruff, spiky, but ultimately vulnerable. Like a sea urchin.

When Michael had had no money to give and nothing to mortgage, Isabel had offered to lend him money, but that had been against the rules. And Diane had known then (as she knew now) that Michael had never played by the rules, because the rules had never played by him. Monopoly had never been just a game for him.

In the midst of an inconsequential board game, Michael Guerin had been crushed by the reality of what his life could have been.

Neither Philip nor Diane had ever known him until they helped open the door to his freedom, even though he had been best friends with Max and Isabel forever. By accident, Michael was not their son. They might have been able to help him sooner if he had been.

Instead he had had to grow up on his own. Until he found Maria. His relationship with Maria DeLuca had emancipated him emotionally where Diane and Philip had only been able to emancipate him legally. And the man he was today was due in a large part to the woman in his life. And his children.

And that was true of Max and Isabel too.

Diane glanced at the kitchen table again, then down at her youngest grandchild who was cuddled in her lap, snuffling softly in his sleep. Her grandchildren were growing up in an environment that nurtured their souls, she thought. They lived without fear of secrets and loneliness and beatings. They were healthy, well-adjusted children. For that, Diane was thankful. It made up a little bit for what her three children had gone through.

Diane sighed and kissed Josh on the cheek.

"It takes a village to raise a child," someone once said, but Diane realized as she glanced once more at the crowd of grandchildren playing Monopoly on the kitchen table that it takes more than that. It takes a secure, loving family to raise a healthy, well-adjusted child. Feeling safe and secure and loved are all vital, she thought, if Monopoly is going to be nothing more than just a game.

Back to The Future Arc