Rating: (shrug) G
Spoilers: Vague spoilers up to "Meet the Dupes""

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She began to run.

It was late morning, not the ideal time to begin exercise in southeastern New Mexico, but the threat of a nightmare had kept her awake for much of the night, and she'd slept in too long. The neighborhood was quiet as she began to hesitantly jog down the sidewalk away from her house. She jogged in place for a moment at the foot of her walkway, self consciously, before choosing to turn left. Her feet made a steady plopping sound against the concrete, and her breathing regulated to fit their rhythm. The neighbor at the corner stopped in her garden to stare, open mouthed, as Isabel jogged by, and she flushed in embarrassment as she passed. For a wild moment she wondered what possessed her to do this odd activity.

But she knew why. It was the fluttering nerves in her stomach that had prompted the need for activity. Her usual avenues of distraction - fashion magazines, chick flicks, or dream walking - had proven fruitless. Yesterday she'd gone to the mall for winter clothing, and had returned with a new pair Nike running shoes, a designer sweat suit, and a copy of "Runners World" magazine, with a cover article entitled "Getting Started!" She'd ignored Entertainment Tonight in favor of reading the magazine carefully, examining the diagrams that illustrated the proper posture, the proper balance. Here was something that would be good for her, would keep her occupied, would make her feel like she was making preparations. She'd stretched carefully before starting this morning.

And she ran.

Isabel turned the corner and headed down another residential street, the morning sun at her back, watching her shadow as she jogged steadily up the sidewalk. Her ponytail bounced jauntily from side to side, tickling the sides of her neck and making the shadow weave oddly. She was beginning to breathe more deeply.

"Jogging is good for you." She could hear her brother's deep voice as if he were with her and actually speaking the words. "Running is good for the heart, good for your circulation, good for your muscles, and its good for your mind. Its like taking a little mental vacation, while you're concentrating on your body. And when I do it regularly, I eat better, and I sleep better." He'd shrugged, looking up at her with that teasing glint she usually found hard to resist. "C'mon, Isabel, try it. Just once, go running with me. Maybe you'll like it."

His voice in her mind annoyed her, and she picked up her pace just a little in an effort to leave it behind. Max's exercise mania had always annoyed her, ever since he'd gotten interested in it back in sixth grade. Why spend so much time getting stinky and sweaty, when a little deft rearranging of molecular structure would take care of any bumps or bulges that might appear on the body? Exercise seemed like unnecessary narcissism and a complete waste of time.

Then why was she doing this?

She ran.

Her pulse had picked up, just a little, and her breathing was steadily getting deeper. The sidewalk curved around the south end of town, continuing through the residential neighborhood familiar to her since they'd come here to live with the Evans, more than ten years ago. She continued to watch her shadow, seeing the springing of the ponytail in rhythm with her footsteps, keeping her breathing steady. This was relaxing. This was good for her. She would've come to this conclusion even without a lecture from her fitness-crazed brother. The thought of Max made her snort in exasperation. If Max would put a fraction of his intensity about exercise into dealing with the Skins, they'd be in much better circumstances.

Lately almost everything about Max irritated her. His mooning over Liz was tiresome, his refusal to deal with Michael's and her need for action was disconcerting, his apparent decision to cope with their mother's message by pretending it didn't happen was aggravating, his refusal to do something - anything, about the threat from the Skins was galling, and his demand that they do nothing to draw attention to themselves was infuriating. She avoided him when she could.

Maybe she was just being cranky, but Max showed no signs of being any sort of a leader, and she'd lived with him long enough to know. Nasedo was dead, the Skins had certainly not packed up and left the planet, and recent events only made Max's insistence on doing nothing more bizarre.

The resentment washed over her, making her clench her teeth because the feelings of resentment were always followed immediately by the overwhelming guilt that made her stomach turn over. She could never say these things to him. To say anything that expressed doubt in his station, in his abilities would imply . . .

the word whispered unacknowledged against the back of her mind . . . **betrayal**.......

She reached the end of First street and turned west, skirting the edge of the business district. The sun was getting higher overhead, the day was warming up. It took a little more effort to keep her breathing steady, but she focused on the steady thud of her tennis shoes and the swing of her arms. With an effort she unclenched her fists, shaking the tightness from her hands.

And she ran.

She was breathing deeply now, jogging at a good clip even though the sun was higher in the sky and she was feeling the steaming heat. Her shadow was harder to find, she seemed to be stepping directly on her own knees as she pushed herself to go just a little faster. Without slackening pace she rolled her head and worked her jaw to relieve the tension she felt there. A strand of sweat-slicked hair slid across her cheekbone and hit her left eye, stinging, hurting, and she tossed it out of her way with a hiss of annoyance and frustration.

Maybe it was lack of quality sleep that was making her so short tempered lately. She hadn't had the nightmare in the last few nights, but fear of it had kept her sleepless last night. The nightmare had been a nightly occurrence when she was little, when the Evans' home had been new to her. She'd woken from it, screaming, every night for months when she and Max had first arrived there.

The nightmare where time stopped. The nightmare where everyone around her was frozen, their heads all turned to the bright opening in the huge wall made of dark stone. The nightmare where the sick crawling horror of betrayal was a slimy taste in her mouth, and the dawning knowledge that the she was the source of the betrayal a filthy stink in her nose, a rolling nausea in her stomach. The nightmare where the low whirring sound grew louder just as her world exploded, and she ran, screaming, feeling the heat of the flames and hearing the death shrieks of her family as the bright, deadly light traveled across the courtyard, incinerating those it caught, searching for her, hunting her...

Even now, wide awake in broad daylight, the panic threatened to flutter close to the surface, and she ruthlessly squashed it back as she pushed her pace just a little faster. She threw the hair that had come loose from her ponytail out of her eyes again, making a mental note to get a headband. One with good absorbent material that matched her new sweat suit. With an effort she focused again on her even steps, counting one-two one-two one-two until she stopped thinking about what had started to distract her.

And she ran.

She was running faster now, determined to concentrate on nothing more than the steady pounding of her feet and her own harsh respiration. A cramp threatened in her side and she focused on exhaling completely, each breath, like the magazine had instructed her. It would probably be nice to have a running partner, someone to keep her company. She wondered if Alex jogged . . . maybe he would come with her. Alex could always make her laugh, although that might not be a good idea while jogging. Still, he'd help keep her mind off the burning that was starting in her lungs, and the ache in her side where the stitch wouldn't quite go away...

Alex was excellent for distractions. He could be counted on to help her keep her mind from places that she didn't want it to go. Alex was good for a great many things, actually. He was kind, intelligent, funny, dependable, thoughtful, all those qualities that made for perfect boyfriend material. He was undoubtedly the most suitable boyfriend prospect she'd ever met, putting aside the odd geeky qualities that he would almost certainly grow out of. It would be easy to fall in love with Alex, in fact, she probably would have already been hopelessly in love with Alex if she hadn't already experienced real love, if she didn't already know what real, all-consuming passion felt like ...

Isabel stumbled over a curb and lurched to a full stop, her eyes wide and her mouth open as she gasped for air. Her stomach rolled over as she struggled with the thought that had just slid into her consciousness. What the hell? Where in the hell had that thought come from?

Nicholas' taunting voice whispered through her memory. "Kivar........."

Her pounding heart lurched unsteadily in its rhythm, and she gasped as a warm chill snaked down her spine and her palms broke into a sudden sweat, as her knees trembled unsteadily....

And she ran.

With a choked cry she gathered herself and plunged forward, almost sprinting to the end of the street and turning towards the industrial area on the edge of town, feeling the cement of sidewalks give way to rough asphalt and gravel. Her eyes, wide and staring, focused on the ground disappearing beneath her feet as she fought to bring herself back under control. She passed the auto junk yard and was startled by the guard dog as it threw itself, baying, against the chain link fence separating them. She had a jumbled impression of wild eyes and gleaming fangs as the adrenaline kicked in and she dashed to the end of the yard.

It was time to stop. Her breath sobbed in her burning throat, her lungs were on fire, her body was giving anguished signals that it had reached the end of its stamina and even the magazine had said it was important not to do too much the first time you tried to run, that you could injure yourself badly if you pushed too hard . . .

And she ran.

And now she couldn't stop, even though her vision was blurring and her legs were shaking, and she was staggering more than she was jogging, and there was no rhythm to her steps anymore.

And it was past time to stop, because she was leaving the town limits and heading out to the desert and nobody in their right mind ran in the desert in the middle of the day, nobody who didn't want to inflict pain on themselves, nobody who didn't believe that they could outrun the demons of their past lives, nobody who didn't believe that it would be better for all if those demons caught you and tore you to pieces.

Isabel lurched to a rubber-legged stop. Her stomach rolled and heaved as she bent forward, bracing her arms on her shaking legs and struggling to bring air into her tortured lungs, to bring her galloping pulse under control. Wheezing, she raised her head and surveyed her surroundings with dull shock.

She was outside the town limits, fifty yards past the sign that welcomed visitors to "Roswell - the Alien Capital of the World!" The highway in front of her stretched across the desert and into infinity, disappearing into the shimmering distance without a single vehicle or building in sight. Shed been heading straight out of town, away from everyone she knew, away from everyone she loved. Or was she?

She was too depleted to go on. Her heart continued to pound, hitching her breath and echoing strangely in her eardrums. She turned and began to trudge wearily back to her home, wondering with despair how long she could keep this up.

Back to Area 51 (Section III)