So help me, if I ever see her again, I will destroy her, if it's the last thing I do.  Destroy her like she destroyed him. 

Like she destroyed me.

I didn't know until much later that I was pregnant.  When I found out…I'm ashamed to admit it, but I ran.  Without a word to my family, my friends, I took off.  I cleaned out my bank account – actually a pretty nice nest egg, considering I went against Dr. Love's orders and hoarded my share of the 'blood money,' as he liked to call it, combined with my college fund and my inheritance from my grandparents – and took off for greener pastures.  Well, to be more specific, I headed for Tucson.

What's in Tucson, I'm sure you're wondering.  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  And that's just why I headed there.  I didn't know a soul and had no ties to the city.  No one would ever think of looking for one missing alien girl there.

Especially if they were looking for one with long blond hair instead of a brunette with short hair. 

That's where Isabel Alexander was born.  She dropped a letter in the mail to her parents every week or so – minus the return address, of course.  She found a cheap studio apartment above an all-night diner, where she worked.  And she tried desperately to forget her old life.

That worked for a while…at least until mid-December.  That's when I knew that Isabel Alexander had to leave her anonymity and reach out to someone from her not-so-distant past.  The only question was who.

I've always been connected with Max, and even then, with me blocking him, I could still feel his worry and his anger.  But I needed some alien-themed help, and I really didn't want to get into it with my brother.  So, I decided on Michael. 

I've never been as scared as I was when I called him.  But I knew that he'd help me.  He's never let me down.

I'll never forget that conversation…

*

December 21, 2001

"Hello?"

His voice sounded so happy – so un-Michael like – that I almost hung up.  Who was I to come crashing back into his life?  If it weren't for my baby, I would have.  But I was willing to do anything it took to help my child.  Even so, my voice sounded hoarse, strange to my own ears.  "Michael?"

"Yeah.  Who's this?"

"Michael…it's Isabel…if there's anyone else there, please don't tell them you're talking to me.  Please, it's important."

"Where are you?"

"Michael…I need your help.  Please."

"Of course.  Anything.  Tell me where you are."

"Is anyone else there?"

"No."

"You can't tell anyone, Michael.  Please, promise me."

I think he heard the desperation in my voice.  "I promise.  But your family is so worried about you…"

"I know.  And I'm sorry…I'm in Tucson."

"What's in Tucson?"

"Nothing.  But I need you to come and help me."

"When?"

"As soon as possible.  Um…you can bring Maria, if she swears she won't tell Liz or Max.  She might be able to help.  But Max can't know."

"Okay.  We'll leave in the morning.  What's your address?"

I gave him directions and made him repeat it as he jotted it down.  "Thank-you, Michael.  I'll explain everything when you get here.  Michael?"

"Yeah, Izzy?"

"I love you."

I could almost hear him smiling over the phone.  "I love you, too.  I'll be there soon."

I was smiling when I hung up the phone.  I knew everything would be okay if I had one of my brothers with me.

*

December 23, 2001

It was late when I heard the knock at the door.  I smiled a little as I walked towards it.  I could hear the familiar bickering from inside.

"When are you going to tell me why we're here, Michael?  What is this, the fifth, sixth time you've dragged me off?  Why is it you always need my car, anyway?"

"Hi," I say, opening the door a little.  I could see all of them, but they could see very little of me.  "Thank-you for coming.  Please, come on in."

"Isabel?" she whispered.  Then she shrieked when I opened the door fully.  Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she took in my short dark hair and expanding belly.  "You're pregnant!" she screeched.

I sighed.  "Come in and we'll talk about it." 

Michael pulled me into a bear hug as Maria trailed behind us silently, shutting the door. I think this is the first time I've ever seen Maria too shocked to say anything.

"Please, sit down," I said, gesturing towards the sofa.  "Can I get you something to eat?  Drink?"

"No, thanks.  Isabel…"

"I told you I'd explain everything, Michael." I lowered myself into an armchair and absently rubbed my growing belly.  "As you've probably figured out, I'm pregnant.  I can't go to the hospital, so I need someone to deliver the baby."

"Wait a sec."  Maria leaned forward, brushing off Michael's restraining hand.  "Who's the father?"

"Alex."

"Is this why you ran away?" Michael asked.  He seemed calm, just sad, which I took as a good sign.

"Partly.  I couldn't put any of you at risk.  And I had this horrible feeling, like something bad would happen to my baby if I stayed."  I tried to smile, but failed miserably.  "I left after I found out.  But I think I would've left anyway, even if I weren't pregnant.  Everywhere I looked, I saw him.  After a while, I thought I was going insane."  Tears trickled down my cheeks.  "I'm sorry I worried everyone.  I just…couldn't see any other way.  I had to go.  I'm so sorry."

I was crying in earnest by then, and Michael left his place on the sofa and perched on the arm of my chair.  He took me in his arms and rocked me, the same way he had done years ago, when we were kids and I was scared.  "I know.  Don't cry," he whispered.

Maria handed me a glass of water and knelt beside us.  She stroked my hair, and I saw her exchange a speaking look with Michael.

Finally, my tears subsided to sniffles.  "I'm sorry."  I chewed on my bottom lip.  "How is Max?  And my mom and dad?"

Maria smiled.  "They're okay.  They miss you like crazy and want you to come home, though."

I shook my head at the unasked question in both their eyes.  "I can't go home yet.  I'm not ready."

"Okay."  Maria reclaimed her seat on the sofa.  "So when is the baby due?  Have you seen a doctor?"

"Once.  I refused to let him do any tests, but he said it was due in early January…but a few days ago, I just knew it was going to be sooner.  I think probably tomorrow.  After you help me, I'm going to take the baby and move again.  Cover my tracks, I guess."

"Isabel, I won't let you do that.  I won't let you disappear again."  Michael's voice sounded unusual for him, desperate even.

"How about I promise I'll keep in touch?"

"Better.  Go on."

"What else do you want?"

"How about the title 'Uncle Michael'?"

"It was already yours, big brother.  How does 'Auntie Maria' sound?"

"Perfect."  Maria jumped from her spot and hugged me.

I felt the baby kick.  "Want to feel?" I asked.  They both nodded, so I positioned their hands on my stomach.

"Oh, wow," Maria breathed as she felt the kick.

"Does that hurt?"

"Not really…only when he uses my kidneys as a soccer ball.  I kind of like it, actually.  It lets me know everything's okay."

"He?" Michael asked, a goofy grin on his face.

"Yeah.  I can connect with him.  He's dreaming in there."

"What about?"

"I think clairvoyance is probably going to be one of his powers.  And maybe dreamwalking, too, because he makes a guest appearance in my dreams quite often."

"Clairvoyance?"

"Yeah…it's like I can see snippets of the future sometimes.  It's really fast – kind of like a flash – but I can see these images."  I took a deep breath.  "There's something else."

"What?"

"Michael, did you read the translation of the book?  All of it?"

"Yeah…"

"Towards the end, there are a few paragraphs about a prophecy. Remember?"

"What prophecy?" Maria asked warily.

"It's about an Antarian child born on this planet, destined to save our people and our world.  Do you remember, Michael?  At the time, we just assumed it was Max.  But since I've been pregnant…parts of the prophecy seemed to fit, and it's really scaring me.  I've read my copy of the book over and over, and some of what's said makes me wonder if my baby is the child they're talking about."

"Like what?"  Michael didn't seem to be rejecting my idea entirely, which gave me the courage to continue.

"The child is supposed to be the first-born son of one of the royal children – meaning either me or Max.  Now, at first I thought they were talking about Max's child with Tess.  But then I read something else."

"What?"  Maria asked, intrigued.

"The child has a human parent.  He's a human child, not an alien-human hybrid like us, which seems to rule out Max's son.  And this child is supposed to be more powerful than all of the royal four combined."  I paused.  "Am I totally crazy?"

"Iz…it does seems kind of far-fetched," Michael said.

"I know, and I pray that I'm wrong.  I want my baby to have a normal life…not be heir to the throne of some war-torn planet light-years from here.   That's why I can't go home to Roswell.  I've got to keep him safe – whether he's the child in the prophecy or just a normal baby."  I paused.  "I owe Alex at least that much and so much more."

"I understand.  We just miss you."

"I know.  It kills me not to talk to my parents.  Maybe I can in a year or so, when the baby's older and I'm sure we're safe."  I stood up with difficulty and smiled at them.  "You both must be tired.  Let me show you where you can sleep." 

I led them into my bedroom and told them they could have my bed.  "Are you insane?" Maria screeched.  "You're pregnant!  You sleep on the bed, and I'll sleep on the couch.  Michael can take the floor."

"Hey!"

"Relax, Spaceboy, we'll give you a pillow or something," she said, before turning to argue with me some more.

I held up my hand to stop her.  "Maria, I've slept all day – the baby likes to stay awake all night.  And I'm working the night shift at the diner downstairs."

"You're still working?" Maria asked.

"You can't," Michael ordered.

I grinned.  I'd grown a lot more independent over the past six months, since I'd been on my own.  I wasn't going to follow anyone's orders, ever again, even if they're made with the best intentions.  "Michael, it won't hurt the baby.  I promise.  It's my last shift, and I intend to work it."

When Michael seemed inclined to argue further, Maria stepped in.  "Let her do it, Spaceboy.  We'll be right upstairs if anything happens."

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

I kissed his cheek and hugged Maria as I left.  When I reached the door, I turned.  "While you're here, please call me Isabel Alexander.  It's the name everyone knows me by here.  I'll be back in a couple of hours."

*

February 28, 2006

The next day, Christmas Eve – my favourite day of the year – my son was born.  Robert Michael Evans.  The child of prophecy.

As much as I hoped it wasn't true, it became quite clear almost from the beginning.  When Maria placed him in my arms, we could all see the birthmark on his right thigh.  It was the same symbol that was on the necklace I found at Atherton's.

But that didn't matter to me as much as his appearance.  Robbie was, from the very beginning, the image of his father.  I had considered naming him after Alex, but the thought of saying his name a hundred times a day seemed too painful.  So, I settled on Robert – my father's middle name.  And I officially named him Evans, because changing his name seemed so wrong somehow.

Five days after his birth, Maria and Michael went home to Roswell.  The next day, I packed my son and our belongings into the car I had bought with my savings and set out for California.

That was where my first sin occurred.

Once I crossed the California boarder, I waved a hand over my identification and my name became Isabel Davis.  I figured Brody wouldn't mind me using his surname.  It was common enough that anyone looking for me would have to go through a lot of trouble to find me.  I had already been accepted to the San Francisco University, and planned on starting classes that summer.

I had given Michael my cell phone number, but I hadn't told either of them where I was going.  They didn't ask – probably because they knew they were better off not knowing.  And so, Robbie and I settled into our lives.

He was a happy baby, always smiling and cooing.  He was quiet – almost too quiet sometimes, he rarely cried, which made me just as nervous as if he cried constantly – and he grew to look more and more like Alex every day.  One of the few things I had brought from Roswell was a tape of his father singing, and on the rare occasions when he was restless, his father's voice quieted him immediately.

When he was almost eight months old, I met a man.  I had taken Robbie to the park near our apartment, and I was sitting on a bench while feeding him his bottle.  That's when Jake approached us.

I recognized him from one of my classes – he was the professor's aide, finishing his PhD – and he told me he always wondered where I rushed off to after each class.  He told me my son was adorable, and then he asked me out on a date.  I remember grinning at him and telling him that my time wasn't really my own, but I gave him my number anyway.  I think I just wanted to remember what it was like to be wanted by a guy again.

It wasn't like the guys in my classes hadn't asked me out hundreds of times.  But my old ice princess persona fell back into place easily, and I didn't give anyone the time of day.  I really didn't have any friends, and I preferred to keep it that way.  It was safer for Robbie.  And he was the only man I wanted in my life, anyway.

My days were spent running to classes and work and taking care of my son.  I managed to get a scholarship, which covered my tuition, and my job in the student union paid our living expenses.  And there was an excellent free daycare centre on campus, where Robbie stayed while I was at work or in class.  It was lonely, but I did what I had to do.

Then, along came Jake.  He reminded me a little of Alex, although he looked nothing like him – he was a tall, blonde man - but because he, like Alex, refused to take no for an answer.  Finally, just a few weeks before my son's first birthday, I caved in and agreed to go out with him.

Michael and Maria came to spend that Christmas with me, after I finally deemed it safe for them to know where my son and I were living, and they both liked Jake.  They had been living in Santa Fe, and when Amy and Jim announced they were planning on eloping to the Caribbean over the holidays, they took the opportunity to visit their nephew and me.  And with my permission, they brought Kyle along for the ride.

I've never seen anyone look so shocked as Kyle did when I opened the door to my apartment with Robbie in my arms.  Maria had refused to tell him where they were going – just that it would be a blast – and Michael, in typical Michael-style, simply ignored him.

On Christmas Eve, I called my parents and talked to them for the first time in more than a year.  Max was there, too, and I spoke to him briefly, but refused to tell them where I was.  I did promise to visit them for spring break, in March.  Robbie was a secret I thought better explained in person.

By March, Jake and I were pretty serious, and he had proposed.  I refused at first, because I didn't love him.  He told me he knew that, and he didn't care.  He was convinced I would grow to love him someday.  And I knew how much he loved my son, and that Robbie adored him.  So, I finally gave in and told him parts of the truth.  Not that I was a Czechoslovakian, but that I was a runaway named Isabel Evans.  He said he didn't care, and slipped a ring on my finger.  Then he came with me to Roswell, to meet my family.

It's funny.  I never actually said yes to his proposal.  Probably because in my heart, I was already married to someone else.  Alex.

My parents took the news about Jake and Robbie much better than I had expected.  They were just so happy that I was back they really didn't ask too many questions.  We arrived a day before Max and Liz were due back from Harvard, so we had time to prepare.

Max, as I expected, went crazy when he saw me.  It kinda put a damper on the homecoming.  I left Jake with my parents and took Robbie over to the Valenti's, where the rest of the gang had gathered.  Jim and Amy were away, attending a convention in Texas, and it seemed like the best place to meet.  I think both Max and I knew that seeing each other alone wasn't advisable and that seeing each other in the presence of anyone who didn't know our secret was just as bad an idea.

Max always forgave me, no matter what I did, when we were kids.  I always thought he would forgive me anything.  I guess I didn't realize that we weren't kids anymore.  And that some things, you just can't forgive…

*

March 3, 2003

When I walked into the Valenti's for the first time in nearly two years, everyone was already there, waiting for us.  I had seen Kyle the night before, when I arrived, and he just gave me a quick hug hello when he opened the door. 

I didn't say anything at first – just busied myself with taking off my jacket and taking Robbie out of his stroller – until I could delay it no longer.  With my son in my arms, I walked over to my brother.  "This is my son, Robert Michael.  Robbie.  Sweetie, this is your Uncle Max and your Aunt Liz.  Can you say 'hello,' baby?"

"Hello," Robbie cooed in his sweet baby voice.  His vocabulary was much farther along than most children his age, and he had been talking since he was nine months old.

Max didn't say anything.  He just stood there, watching me.  Liz broke the awkward silence.

"Hi, Robbie," she said.  "It's nice to meet you."

I smiled gratefully at her and placed Robbie on the floor.  She knelt to be at his level and looked up at me.

"He looks just like Alex," she said softly, blinking back tears.

"I know.  More and more each day."

"Can I have a hug?" she asked him.

He looked up at me for permission.  From an early age – once I learned he could communicate with me through dreams – I had taught Robbie to be wary of strangers.  And more importantly, I taught him to never, ever use his powers in public.  "It's okay," I told him. 

Liz grinned as he wrapped his baby arms around her neck.

"Liz, can you take Robbie into another room?" Max asked.  His voice was low and controlled, but it was impossible to ignore the anger that laced every word.  Liz glanced at me, and when I nodded, she picked up my baby and disappeared down the hall.  Max didn't say another word until we heard the door softly click shut.  "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Involuntarily, I took a step back, startled by the absolute venom in his voice.  Then I gathered my strength and reminded myself that I had had no other choice.  "I had to protect my child the only way I knew how," I answered, standing my ground as he stalked towards me.  But I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice, no matter how much I fought to keep my voice even.

"You did what you had to do," he repeated coldly.  "You did what you had to do!"  This time, he yelled the words in my face.

That's when I grew seriously pissed.  Who the hell was he to judge me?  He had no idea how hard it was to leave everything I've ever known.  But to protect my son, I would've done a hell of a lot more.  "Yes, Max, I did what I had to do," I snapped, my tenuous grip on my temper snapping.

"So who's the bastard's father?  Alex?  The latest conquest you brought home?  Do you even know?"

I heard Maria's gasp and Michael's whispered "Max."  Even Max looked shocked at what he had said.

But nothing registered except the words.  How dare he say anything about the two great loves of my life – my baby and my soulmate?  That's when I slapped him.  "Don't ever bother to speak to me again, Max," I hissed.  And then I said the most deliberately hurtful thing I could think of.  Something I knew would hurt him just as much as he'd hurt me.  "At least I know where my child is."  I pivoted on my heel and collected Robbie from a startled Liz.  As I was leaving, I turned to face my brother again.  "And for the record, the only man I've ever slept with is Alex.  I hope your little tirade was worth the cost of your sister and your nephew."  With that, I left.

*

February 28, 2006

Jake and I left Roswell a few hours later.  I swore up and down that I would never go back.  I told my parents Max and I had fought and I couldn't stay in the same town as my brother, but that I would love for them to visit us in California.  I desperately wanted my child to know my parents.

Five days later, Jake and I were married by a justice of the peace at city hall.  Our witnesses were Michael, Maria, and Kyle, who had flown out when I called to tell them about the wedding. 

That was the day my sins took over my life.  There was no turning back.  That was the day I vowed to love and honour Jake Bennington. 

I lied.

I didn't love him.  I never have.  I feel the same thing for him that I feel for Kyle.  Deep friendship and respect.

My friends agreed to baby-sit Robbie that night so we could have a pseudo-honeymoon.  When Jake made love to me for the first time, I cried.  I felt like I was betraying Alex, but he didn't know that.  He thought they were tears of happiness.

Four months later, I found out I was pregnant with twins.  The joy and relief I felt at the news was overwhelming – it was like proof that something good and positive could come out of my sham of a marriage.  I hate to admit it, especially now, but I know I made a mistake when I married him.  He loved me – I could never doubt that for a minute.  What is it about me that inspires nice, innocent men to love me?  What twisted little part of me keeps me from loving them the way they deserve to be loved until it's too late?  And why do they keep paying the ultimate price for loving me?

Our marriage was good for Jake and Robbie – he loved my son as if he was his own child, and Robbie adored Jake – but I was miserable.  I was tense every second, worrying that Robbie or I would do something to reveal our not-of-this-earth status, and I was making myself sick trying to be the perfect wife and mother.  Even Michael noticed how unhappy I was when he and Maria visited that summer, but luckily, I was able to blame it on guilt about how Max and I left things.

That, at least, wasn't a total lie.  I did miss my brother, and I did feel guilty about our fight.  But we were both still too mad, too young, and too stubborn to apologize.  He may have been my home, but we never repaired the damage that occurred when I lied about Vilandra and in the weeks after Alex died.  Those lies and hurts were tiny cracks in the veneer of our relationship.  My leaving shattered it entirely.

I always thought our friendship and love and mutual respect could withstand any problem. 

I was wrong.

I heard about him all the time, though, from our friends and our parents…and from Liz, who called at least once a week.  Right before I had the babies, she flew out to spend a few weeks with me and deliver the twins.  Maria swore she wasn't doing it again, and nominated Liz, who was studying pre-med, to take her place.

Almost a year to the day that Jake and I got married – on March 13, 2004, our children were born.  We named our eldest, our son, Christian Philip, after our fathers, and our little girl Charlotte Diane.  Diane after my mother, of course, and Charlotte for Alex Charles Whitman, the love of my life, although my husband didn't know I was naming his child after another man.  Jake thought I just liked the name.  Yet another of my sins, but they're too numerous to count anymore. 

We nicknamed her Carly.

Robbie was in love with his siblings, and referred to them as his babies.  I had taken a year off of school to have them, and by that time, Jake was a psychology professor at the university.  We'd bought a tiny house with a white picket fence after the wedding.  Kyle was drafted by the San Francisco Giants and I was thrilled to have one of my best friends living so close by.  I was beginning to think my fears about evil aliens during my first pregnancy were just delusional nightmares.  I was even learning to love my husband a little.  My life seemed perfect.

When the twins were one month old, my life fell apart.  Again.  Only this time it was Jake who paid the price of loving me…

*

April 13, 2004

"I'll get the door!" Kyle called to me.  I was upstairs, putting the twins to sleep, while he helped Robbie put together a puzzle in the living room.

"It's probably Jake – I bet he forgot his keys.  He's late," I replied as I kissed Carly's forehead.  Christian was already asleep in his crib across the room.  I turned on the music box and grabbed the baby monitor as I crept out of the room.  I grinned as I walked downstairs, expecting to see my husband dragging in his student's term papers. 

It wasn't Jake.

Kyle was talking it low tones with two uniformed police officers in the foyer.  Robbie grabbed my leg as I passed the living room.

"Who are those people, Mommy?"

I picked him up and kissed his cheek.  "I don't know, baby.  Let's go find out," I said as I settled him on my hip.  I liked carrying him around just as much as I did the twins.  He might be three years old, but he was still my baby.

Robbie patted my hair, the way he had since he was a baby.  "Okay, mommy," he whispered quietly.

"Can I help you?" I asked pleasantly as I approached.  Kyle turned to face me with a look of absolute horror on his face.

"Isabel…maybe we'd better sit down."

"What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Bennington?" the female officer asked.  I nodded.  "I'm afraid we've got some bad news…" she looked helplessly at her partner.

I swallowed.  Suddenly, my throat felt like it was completely blocked.  "Please, whatever it is, just tell me."

The older officer looked at me sadly.  "I'm sorry to inform you, ma'am, but your husband is dead.  He was shot twice during a hold-up of a convenience store.  He was killed instantly."

"Oh, god…" I whispered as I sank to my knees.  Kyle caught me before I hit the floor, and the female officer took a confused and upset Robbie into the living room.  "No… No… No… No…" I repeated the word brokenly, over and over again, as if denying it would make it untrue.  It didn't.

*

February 28, 2006

My parents, Michael and Maria, Jim and Amy, even Max and Liz, came for the funeral three days later.  It wasn't for another week that I discovered the truth about what happened to my husband.

The bullets that they pulled from his chest – the bullets that killed him - were made of a material that no one could identify.  They were alien.

That's when I knew my earlier fears weren't just the paranoid delusions of a scared, pregnant teenager.  Those fears are what kept my son and me alive – call it female intuition, motherly instinct, alien foresight, or just plain old bad vibes, but whatever it was, it told me to get the hell out of dodge.  And it was right.

Murdering Jake was a warning.  And I knew exactly who it was from and what it meant.  Killing my husband was Nicholas' way of telling me I still belonged to Kivar.

Max wouldn't listen to me – he said I was too distraught to be thinking clearly – but everyone else sat up and took notice.  I grabbed my kids and packed up whatever we needed and headed home to Roswell.  I figured that there, at least, we had home turf advantage.

I was wrong.

On the anniversary of the day the love of my life died – April 29 – I lost three of the people I loved most in the world.  Three more innocent souls whose only crime was being near me, loving me…

*

April 29, 2004

"Mom? Can you watch Christian while I'm at the market?  He's a bit fussy today and I just put him down for a nap.  I'll take Carly and Robbie with me."

"Sure, Sweetie."

"Thanks, Mom.  We'll be back soon.  Love you," I called as I strapped my daughter in her car seat and took Robbie's hand.  "Bye, Dad!"

An hour later, when we returned, fire trucks surrounded my parent's house, trying to contain the blaze.  The gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that had been plaguing me since I left grew into a boulder. "Oh my god…" I whispered.  I grabbed Robbie and Carly, holding one of my babies in each arm and abandoning the car in the middle of the street, as I pushed through the crowds of people surrounding the house.  "Please let them be okay…please…" I chanted as I searched frantically for the faces of the people I loved.

"Miss!  You can't go in there!" An officer caught me as I tried to force my way through the barrier of yellow police tape that surrounded our yard. 

"This is my house!" I screamed at him.  "My parents and my baby are in there!"

The deputy's face fell.  "This way, ma'am," he said, guiding me towards a patrol car.  I caught sight of the sheriff talking to Maria and Michael, and I broke away and ran towards him

"Jim…please…Christian…my parents were watching him…I only left them an hour ago…where's my baby?"  Tears were already trickling down my cheeks.  I already knew the truth, but I didn't want to admit it.  I barely noticed when Maria took Carly from my arms and cradled her to her chest as she cried.

"Isabel, maybe you should sit down."

"Oh, no.  Not again.  They're fine, right?  They're at the hospital.  Michael, tell him.  Tell him they're at the hospital," I said desperately.  Michael just looked at me with tears in his eyes.  Then I fainted.

*

February 28, 2006

Later, when I woke up, I was at the Valenti's, where Michael and Maria were staying until we figured out what the new alien threat was.  By that time, Kyle was already there and Max and Liz were on their way home.

Maria and Michael were sitting with me when I woke up.  They told me that Valenti had arranged for the official reason behind the fire to be listed a gas line explosion.  But Valenti had recovered fragments of what was clearly an alien bomb.

They told me my child and my parents died instantly.  That they probably didn't even have time to realize what was happening.

I pray that they're right.

Sometimes, late at night as I cry for the people I've killed just by knowing them, I wonder what Christian would look like now.  He would be just a few weeks shy of his second birthday.  My darling little boy who never got to grow up...

After the funeral, even Max admitted we had a major problem, and the string of deaths wasn't just a tragic coincidence.  We went into hiding.  And for six months, everything was fine.

Then we got word that Valenti had been killed in a car accident.  He had stayed behind to cover our tracks.  Maria and especially Kyle were devastated.  Maria arranged for her mother to join us.

Two months later, Liz's parents were the victims of a supposed robbery gone wrong.  It nearly killed Liz, too, that she couldn't attend their funerals.

And then, four months later, the worse happened.  They found us.  And this time, not all of us escaped.

Liz was outside when it happened, and she was the first casualty.  I saw a Skin toss an energy ball at her that turned her to dust.

Max was next.  He screamed at us to run, and we did.  We all knew that he would never escape alive.  Even worse, we knew he didn't want to, not without Liz.  He just didn't care about living anymore.  The only thing he cared about was inflicting as much damage on them as possible before he joined the woman he loved.

We escaped through the back.  I carried my little girl while Kyle carried Robbie.  We were in the van, driving away, when I felt my brother die.  The last thought he sent at me, in the last instant he was conscious, was I love you.

It was too dangerous for us to be together, but also far too dangerous for us to be apart.  We moved to New York and tried desperately to blend in, changing our appearances and names.

It didn't work.  Not for long.

Two months ago, they found us.  Amy and Michael were killed in what was called a mugging.  We knew better.

I was the last alien left on Earth, except for my children, and I decided that we had to run, yet again.  Kyle and I dragged Maria away from Michael's body and headed north, into Canada.  I don't know why we thought the Skins wouldn't cross the boarder, but we figured it was just as easy to hide out there as anywhere else.  And maybe it would buy us some time.

Then, three weeks ago, they found us.  Only this time, they didn't go after the adults.  They went after my sweet, innocent little girl.  Carly.

They infected her with some kind of disease.  I couldn't heal her, no matter how hard I tried, and my baby just kept getting sicker and sicker.  I even risked taking her to a hospital.  I couldn't lose another child.  I just couldn't.

Traditional medicine couldn't help her, either.  They could just give her drugs to try and lower the fever and ease the pain. 

It didn't work.  And another one of my children paid the price of having me for their mother…

*

February 14, 2006

"Mommy?" she whispered.

"Yes, baby?" I asked, gently rubbing a cool cloth over her forehead.  Her once-bouncy golden pigtails clung to her head, soaked with sweat, and her sparkling brown eyes looked dull. 

"I love you.  I don't wanna go, Mommy, but Christian's waiting for me."

"No, baby, don't go…Carly, listen to Mommy…" I started to cry, and next to me, Maria gripped my hand.  Kyle was in a hotel room we rented under assumed names, guarding Robbie.  I knew he'd protect my son with his life.

"Mommy…it hurts…make the owies go way…"

I choked back a sob as I realized, for the first time in my baby girl's life, I couldn't make the owies go away.  And then I realized that maybe it's better if I let her go instead of urging her to fight and live in pain.  "Mommy's right here, my little angel," I crooned as I crawled into bed next to her and held her close to my heart, as I did when she was a baby.  I rocked her a little and hummed a lullaby I used to sing her.  "Just close your eyes and go to sleep, sweetheart.  Mommy's always going to be right here with you."  I kissed her forehead and hugged her close to me as I felt the life drain out of her body.  And as I did, I vowed I would seek revenge for her.  For Carly, for Christian, for Max and Liz, for Michael and Jake, for my parents and Valenti and Amy and the Parkers.  I would make things right if it was the last thing I did.

*

February 28, 2006

What is it that they say?  The sins of the father are revisited on the son?  In this case, the sins of what I did in my past life have infected everyone that loves me.  The sins of the mother are passed on to her children.

I once thought I was an angel of death.  Maybe I was right.

But I'd like to think I can be an angel of life, too.  That's why I'm going to end the world as we know it in a few hours.

If you're reading this confession, then I've been unsuccessful.  I've failed my mission.  For my son's sake – for all of our sakes, really – I pray no one ever reads these words.

Shortly before she died, Liz told me about a visit she received from Future Max.  She gave me a crystal she found two years ago, similar to the one Max used to activate the granolith five years ago.  She said Future max converted the granolith, which we assumed was destroyed when Tess decided to take it for a spin, into a kind of time machine.  It wasn't.  At least, not all of it.

Three days ago, under the cover of darkness, we arrived home to Roswell and began work on the granolith, according to the specifications Liz left behind.  And tomorrow morning, at dawn, I will take my little boy and I will travel back through time.  I will wipe out this future and pray that the one we create in its place is a happier one.

It can't possibly be any worse.

I'm going back to save the love of my life and stop Tess from betraying us.  And then I'm going to kill Nicholas.

Maria and Kyle have promised to remain in the pod chamber.  We're pretty sure that anyone inside it won't feel the effect of a time shift, so if I'm unsuccessful, they can go back, too.  We all agree that any future we create, no matter how horrible it may be, has to be better than the one we're leaving behind.

I must admit my motives for taking Robbie are mostly selfish.  I can't let my last little baby out of my sight, but I also believe that perhaps this is part of the prophecy.  That perhaps my son can save this world, too.

I know neither of us can do it in the present.  I pray that we can in the past.