“Hey.”

Liz looked up at the quiet, monosyllabic greeting. “Michael, hey.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Maria got off early tonight,” she told him. “She had an English paper to finish.”

“Oh.”

He glanced around the Crashdown then turned to go. He looked so forlorn that she couldn’t just let him walk away. “Technically we’re about to close,” she said quickly. “But if you want anything...” He shook his head. “Come on, Michael. It’ll take me like two minutes to get you some fries. On the house. Please?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward at her well-intentioned badgering. He nodded and came back to sit down at the counter. “Fine.” He flashed her a brief grin when she placed the fries and a bottle of tabasco sauce in front of him. “Thanks.”

She cleared tables while he ate. Michael was the only customer in the diner. The dreary weather seemed to have kept people home tonight, Liz thought. And the ones who had ventured out had gone home early. She was getting ready to sweep the floor when Michael materialized beside her.

“Anything I can do?” he asked. “Sort of for the fries?”

“You don’t have to...” she began.

“It’s okay. I’m in no rush.”

She looked at him carefully. I don’t have anywhere else to go. That’s what he meant. Don’t make me leave yet. She nodded almost unconsciously. “Well, okay. Um, you could flip the chairs up on the tables.”

“No problem.”

As soon as he finished that he promptly asked if there was anything else he could do. He set at each task she gave him with a quiet, nervous energy. He helped her fill the condiments bottles and smiled at some private amusement as he topped off the sugar containers. He merely sat on top of the counter and watched her mop, but when she began to mutter to herself he came to see what was the matter. A piece of chewing gum was stuck to the tile floor. It would have taken her ages to scrape it all up, but Michael simply waved his hand over the gum and it vanished.

“What did you do?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Made it go away.”

“Away where?” These powers of theirs fascinated her. Max had tried to explain a few things to her, but he was being so distant these days. She looked at Michael curiously.

“Turned it into part of the floor,” he said.

She stared at the clean tile for a moment longer then smiled. “That is terribly cool.” Her smile broadened as he gave another embarrassed shrug. “And that’s it,” she said as she stood. “We’re through.”

They both jumped as a thunderclap crashed. Michael looked out at the rain pelting the front window.

“I don’t suppose you have an umbrella I could borrow?” he asked bleakly.

“To be honest,” she answered, “I don’t think that an umbrella would do you any good out there. Maybe it’ll let up in a little while. You’re welcome to hang out in the back and wait.”

He flinched at the flash of nearby lightning. “Might be a good idea,” he agreed.

*****

Michael followed Liz into the employee lounge at the back of the diner. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here. He wasn’t sure why Liz was still putting up with him, either. But he wasn’t about to question it aloud. He would drown out there before he got halfway... well, before he got anywhere. It was really pouring down. He might call Max and ask if he’d come pick him up. But he knew that once Max came he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he could stay with them. He’d just end up asking Max to take him home. And he wasn’t sure that he was up to dealing with Hank tonight.

He sat down on the sofa which had definitely seen better days and looked up at Liz. She looked back at him with the same uncertain expression that he knew he was probably wearing. They had never spent much time together. He didn’t know what to say.

“So, uh, Michael,” Liz began hesitantly. “When you... had my journal, how much of it did you read?” she asked in a rush.

“Just the last couple of months. Just anything that might have to do with us.” He gave her a puzzled frown. He thought they’d already gone over this.

“And so you know how I feel about Max,” she said. He nodded. Again, he thought they’d covered this already. “Could I ask you something then?” she asked. “As sort of a balance, you know?” He narrowed his eyes, suddenly realizing where this might lead. “I know that you didn’t tell Max what you read, and I appreciate that. I’d give you the same courtesy.” She paused as if waiting for some acknowledgement from him. When none came she forged on anyhow. “What’s going on with you and Maria?”

He tried to sink deeper into the sofa. He knew what she wanted. She wanted him to pour out his soul to her like she’d poured hers out in her journal. It made a demented sort of logical sense; his secrets for hers. He knew that he could trust her to keep anything he said in confidence. She already held his life in her hands. What were matters of the heart compared to that? He wasn’t sure, but the thought of explaining his true feelings for Maria to Liz terrified him nearly as much as the thought of revealing his true nature to Sheriff Valenti.

Liz leaned forward. “Maria is my best friend in the whole world. I just want to know that you aren’t going to hurt her.”

“I’d never...” he began then stopped. The truth was that he already had. Several times actually. He wanted to reassure Liz that he wouldn’t do it again, but he was desperately afraid that he probably would. He didn’t want to hurt Maria, but he didn’t know how *not* to hurt her.

“Do you care about her?”

That seemed safe enough. Much as he’d like to believe otherwise he knew that his feelings on that front were already pathetically obvious to the people who knew him best. He nodded slowly.

“How much?”

Now that was the six-million dollar question, he thought. He stared down at the worn carpet.

“More than I should,” he said softly.

Liz stared at him. “How can you say that? How can you care too much? Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?” He could hear the desperate note in her voice and knew that he wasn’t really the one that she wanted to be giving this lecture to. “You know she loves you.”

“I didn’t ask her to.”

She laughed at him then. “You really don’t understand how this works, do you?”

No, he thought. He really didn’t.

“Liz?” They both looked up in surprise as Mrs. Parker’s voice echoed down the stairway. “Are you almost finished? Do you need any help, sweetheart?”

“I’m nearly done, Mom,” Liz called back. “I’ll be up in a minute.” She glanced at the back door where rain was still pounding against the glass then turned back to Michael. “It’s not letting up,” she said. “You can stay here... as long as you need to. My dad never comes down earlier than five-thirty.”

He realized that she knew he wouldn’t be going home even if it did stop raining. He mentally sighed. First Max and Isabel, then Maria. Now even Liz was trying to look after him. Next thing you know, he thought wryly, I’ll be crashing at Whitman’s. Still, he was grateful. Words of gratitude didn’t come easily for him, though, so he simply gave Liz his usual expressionless stare. She seemed to understand anyway.

“If you come around to the front of the diner about six I’ll let you in and get you breakfast.”

He couldn’t help shaking his head in bemusement. Her kind-heartedness never failed to impress him. Six months ago he could scarcely have called this girl much more than an acquaintance. Now she was one of the most important people in his life. And sometimes he could almost believe that her concern for him, for any of them, had nothing to do with the great, dangerous secret that they all now shared.

She was still looking at him expectantly, waiting for some response. He gave her a crooked grin. “You got waffles?”

“You have to ask for Deep Impact Crater Cakes,” she grinned back.

He snorted. Roswell, he thought. Only in Roswell. He leaned back on the sofa as Liz ran up the stairs.

*****

Jeff Parker was a light sleeper. He tossed restlessly as the spring storm rattled the windows. He wasn’t sure what had awakened him, but he didn’t think that it was the rain. Nancy stirred slightly in her sleep and he kissed her cheek lightly before he rose. Maybe Lizzie had left the fan on downstairs, he mused as he headed for the stairway. There was a low humming noise coming from the employee lounge. Instead of the small whirring of an oscillating fan, however, he was shocked to see a much larger shape moving on the far side of the room.

He quickly flipped on the light switch and the room was filled with a sudden blinding glare. A startled cry was accompanied by a brief blur of motion. Jeff stared at the person sitting on the old sofa, an arm blocking his face. A boy, he realized. As the boy’s arm dropped he realized that he recognized him. Recognized the hair. A friend of Liz’s.

“Mike?”

“Michael,” the boy corrected automatically. He stared back at Jeff with wide, uncertain eyes.

Jeff had no idea what Michael was doing here. His first thought was naturally of theft, but he immediately dismissed that option. Michael had obviously been asleep, but why here in the back of the diner wasn’t so apparent. As the boy made no attempt to explain his presence Jeff took a moment to study him. His clothes were rumpled and his hair seemed wilder than ever. His shadowed face wore the illusion of bruises. Jeff shook his head as he heard footsteps behind him.

“Daddy?” Liz called. His daughter, dressed only in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, flew down the stairs. She threw an anxious look at Michael then turned back to him. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I know I should have asked. But... his foster father is out of town and it was kind of last minute. He was here late and the rain... I didn’t think it would really be any trouble.”

She hadn’t called him Daddy in years, except perhaps in affectionate teasing. He could see a desperate pleading in her face that tore at his heart. Michael’s expression was still guarded and he remained silent. Despite the recent instances of recklessness in Liz’s behavior he still trusted her judgement. Something told him that there was a very good reason that his daughter had allowed this boy to sleep in their restaurant.

“You can’t stay here,” Jeff told him. Michael nodded slowly and began moving toward the door. He paused at Jeff’s next words. “We have a perfectly good guestroom upstairs.”

* * *

Michael lay beneath the hand-sewn quilt and stared at the ceiling. He wondered if blind altruism could be a hereditary trait. As soon as Mr. Parker had turned that light on he had expected to spend the rest of the night either in a jail cell or in the rain. Instead, he was spending it in the guestroom that had traditionally been reserved for Liz’s grandmother. It was ironic, he thought, that in all the years he had known Max and Isabel he had never spent a single night in the Evans’ guestroom. Not even when Mr. and Mrs. Evans had known he was staying over. He wondered if it was anything like this.

The soft scent of the bedclothes was nearly enough to give him a headache. His own sheets never smelled like this even straight from the laundromat. April freshness and generic laundry soap just didn’t mix. His old army blanket kept him adequately warm, but it didn’t have the reassuring weight that this quilt did. As his head settled deeply into the down pillow he released a weary sigh. He hadn’t thought that he’d be able to fall asleep in a strange bed, but his last coherent thought was that he could become accustomed to this comfort with frightening ease.

* * *

Jeff slept fitfully the rest of the night. Worry gnawed at the edges of his mind even in sleep. It wasn’t doubts about the boy that concerned him. It was the circumstances which had led Michael here. When morning finally came Jeff headed for the small room that had been his mother’s when she visited. Michael was curled up close to the edge of the queen-sized bed as if unused to having so much space. He reached gently to shake the boy’s shoulder. As before when he’d woken Michael there was a flurry of small, instinctive movements but in the morning light they were much easier to see. One arm quickly curved protectively across his stomach while the other rose to defend his head. Jeff was stunned by the flash of pure terror in Michael’s eyes. The raw fear faded almost instantly into a subtler wariness as his body relaxed ever so slightly. Dear God, Jeff thought, how often did he wake up like that?

“The bathroom is just down the hall,” he said, hoping that his shock wasn’t evident on his face. “My wife’s already laid out a towel for you. Breakfast’s in the diner when you’re ready.”

He oversaw the opening of the Crashdown distractedly, his mind still trying to come to terms with his enigmatic houseguest. He was standing on the dining side of the cook’s window when Maria DeLuca arrived for the early morning mini-shift that she and Liz worked before school twice a week. He felt a little guilty at eavesdropping on the two girls, but curiosity and concern were stronger.

“Isn’t it a little early for space-boy to be up and around?” Maria said. Jeff assumed she was asking about Michael. Must be the hair, he mused.

“He stayed here last night,” Liz told her.

There was a long, uncharacteristic pause as Maria absorbed the statement. “What happened?” she asked at last.

“He was here when we closed, and then the storm started. I just... I couldn’t let him go out in that. Even your house would have been too far for him to go in the rain and Max’s is even farther.”

“Thanks for letting him stay here. I’m glad to know he was safe.”

“Maria, my dad found him.”

“What?”

“It’s okay,” Liz reassured her. “Dad was cool about it, but...”

“You didn’t tell him about Hank, did you?”

“No. You know Michael would never forgive me,” Liz said sadly. “He’d never forgive any of us if we told anyone that his foster father hits him.”

Jeff felt his own hands ball into fists. It was one thing to suspect abuse. It was entirely different to hear it confirmed. That explained so much, he thought. He looked out into the dining area where Michael sat alone. Knowing what he did now, it was easy to read so much more into the perpetually defensive set of the boy’s shoulders and the dark, suspicious looks he gave to anyone who passed too close.

“I just wish we could do something more for him,” Maria said. “I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to take living with Hank. I wish Mom would let him stay with us, but I think she’s kind of ready to skin him right now. She’s still ranting about finding him in my room last week. Again. Maybe Max...”

“If the Evanses could take him, Maria, they would have done it a long time ago.”

There was a long silence.

“You said your dad seemed okay with it last night?” Maria began hesitantly. “Maybe you could...”

“Maria, even if I could talk my folks into becoming foster parents, do you really think that Michael would go for it?”

“He can’t stay with Hank much longer.” The desperation in her voice nearly broke Jeff’s heart. “Lizzie, he’s never going to do anything about it on his own and I *can’t* just sit here and let him take it.”

“Oh, Maria.” Jeff could hear his daughter pull Maria into her arms. The sounds of soft crying brought tears to his own eyes.

He delivered Michael’s order himself. He set the plate of waffles down and slid into the booth across from the boy. Michael looked at him warily as he picked up the bottle of syrup.

“So, Michael,” Jeff began. “Is your father... foster father out of town often?”

Michael gave him a one-shoulder shrug and continued to concentrate on his breakfast. “Not too often.” He carefully poured syrup into each and every crater.

Jeff wondered if he and the boy were using the same euphemisms. “Well,” he said. “Just remember, the next time he... goes out of town… our guest room is always open to you… any time.”

Michael looked up then with a rare, unguarded expression. Awe and embarrassment mingled in his dark eyes. He stared at Jeff as if trying to weigh the sincerity of the offer and the motives behind it. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Any time,” Jeff repeated firmly. “Enjoy your breakfast.” He rose and headed toward the kitchen, passing Maria on his way back. Her tear tracks had been wiped away and she gave him a chipper smile.

“Morning, Mr. Parker.”

“Good morning, Maria.” He glanced back to see his bubbly blonde waitress slip into the booth beside Michael. The girl briefly rested her head against Michael’s shoulder and squeezed his arm. Michael smiled faintly and planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Then he aimed a forkful of dripping waffle at her nose and grinned as her voice began to rise in protest.

“Daddy?” He turned to find Liz standing beside him. His baby girl looked up at him with eyes full of worry. “I’m sorry about last night. About Michael. It’s just... Things are complicated with him and I didn’t know what else to do.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Next time this happens, go ahead and bring him upstairs.” He prayed that there wouldn’t be a next time, but he knew with a sickening certainty that there probably would be.

Liz gave him a surprised look that faded into understanding. She hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Liz and Maria worked their brief shift with forced cheerfulness, as if by their brightness alone they could chase away memories. Michael watched them both with a sense of bemused wonder, as if baffled why these two girls cared at all about his welfare. And Jeff watched all three of them with sadness. When the children finally headed out the cafe’s front door he stared after them thoughtfully for a moment then reached for the phone.

“Philip? Hi, it’s Jeff... Doing all right... I had an interesting visitor last night. I think he’s a friend of your son’s...”

* * *

Back to Area 51 (Section III)