Disclaimer: Characters – me no own – belong to other lucky people like the folks at the WB and o’ course Melinda Metz.

Note: takes place directly after DoFP: Betrayal

*~*~*

He wasn’t sure which one of them was responsible for the sandstorm. He had been lying there, shocked beyond movement as the last traces of Michael’s power tangled with his blood fizzled though his body. He hadn’t known Michael could do that…and he almost laughed at himself then at the lunacy of it. After everything that had happened less than two minutes ago – after everything they had learned, he was upset that Michael had hidden this new mastery of his powers from them.

When he had finally been able to move again he had turned his head in the direction that Michael had gone. He had called out his name silently, and it reverberated in the empty space before being flung up against Michael’s stone wall and shuddering its way back to him mockingly.

Michael had blocked them out.

He’d never done that before – no matter how bad it got, he’d never disconnected from him and Isabel. Ever.

He was out there alone with Nasedo.

Max had gotten to his feet still trying to shake out the current of Michael’s power that clung to the tips of his movement and tried to hold him down. And then he had run to Isabel, his broken sister, who was on her knees cradling the stone to her chest, as she stared up at the sky as though it had betrayed them. Silent tears had dripped down her wind-reddened cheeks and he felt his heart break a little more with each one.

"Isabel"

She hadn’t answered him.

"Isabel we have to help Michael…"

She had slowly turned her head the slightest bit in his direction, but didn’t look at him. Her eyes had focused on something else, something behind him, over his shoulder. Max had turned to follow her gaze, trying desperately to shake off the disorientation, trying to shake off the images of death still floating unbound around in his brain.

Then he saw it.

There was a swirl of sand and dirt in the not so far distance. It was beautiful, dancing up from the earth, dancing towards them. More and more grains of sand rose up from the ground to join it until it wasn’t a swirl anymore. It was a tornado. And it was headed straight for them.

Max ran the rest of the way to Isabel, pulled her to her feet, and grabbed her hand as they bolted for the jeep shimmering under the moonlight like salvation.

He could feel the sand funnel roaring at his back, growling like an animal, slashing with it’s claws, scratching at their unprotected arms and faces.

They made it to the jeep a second before the tornado exploded and became a full-fledged storm. It sounded like rain scraping along the canvas hood as the torrential gusts slammed into the side of their car. He backed it up, surprised it would even move at all and tried to pull out of it, tried to get back on the road.

When he reached it the storm pulled back and hovered before them, daring them to try and drive through it again.

Michael was on the other side of it.

He had to.

"Hold on Is…" He pressed his foot down on the accelerator as far as it would go and shot off the road back into the storm that swelled with fury and tried to hold them back.

The storm wasn’t natural at all – it was a living breathing angry thing trying to keep them from Michael, from Nasedo.

Max wondered if it was him doing this…

…or if it was Michael.

He risked a quick glance at his silent sister who sat so still beside him unblinking and unmoving except for her fingers occasionally brushing across the mirrored pattern on the stone.

For all he knew she could be doing it.

Nothing made sense anymore. His world had been blown apart.

Alright… he whispered to the storm, you win…

He pulled back onto the road, and once again the storm drew itself in, gloating as he turned the car towards the town.

There was nothing he could do except hope Michael was alright.

He closed his eyes at the memory of being hit by his power. He’d felt everything that Michael had felt at that moment – his howling pain, his blood red rage, his disappointment yawning like a black hole in his soul…

The brunt of Michael’s pain on top of his had been what knocked him down and left him motionless as Michael raced off alone into the night. Max knew that that’s what would keep him going, what would keep him alive.

It brought him very little comfort.

As he passed the cheerful "Welcome to Roswell" sign standing like a hitchhiker beside the road, he was struck by the horrible possibility that he may never see his best friend again.

Back to Area 51 (Section II)