"Exactly. So many times I've felt like my life is so little and insignificant. And I daydream about having the chance to do something-dork alert!-heroic. Like Han Solo," Alex admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Then when I found out the truth about you and the others, it's almost like I got the chance. This year we've had to deal with a lot of life-and-death stuff. Sometimes I wonder how it's going to feel to go back to freaking about zits on my back or whatever."
"Shopping for the perfect accessories," Isabel added. She stretched her legs out in front of her. "I don't think I'll ever find anything more meaningful to do with my life than help the beings who fought against the collective consciousness."
She didn't usually spend a lot of time thinking about meaning-of-life-type issues. It seemed like a waste. But that's what this decision was really about. Isabel had the chance to be a part of something enormous-the restructuring of a whole planet. Her real home.
"And the downside is?" Alex asked, raising his eyebrows.
"It would ruin my parents' lives," Isabel answered. She didn't even need a second to think about that one. "I'd just disappear. And they'd never stop looking for me, wondering if I was alive or dead. It's different for Michael. All the people that really matter to him know the truth. They'll at least know what happened. And he'll have his brother with him."
"You'd have Michael with you," Alex said. "And Trevor." He turned and watched the kids finish up the spaceship hole. "I get the feeling something may be starting between the two of you," he added, without looking at her.
"Maybe," Isabel agreed. "But I'm not going to go live on another planet because I like the way a guy kisses." Although there was more than kisses between her and Trevor. They'd known each other such a short time, but there was this comfort between them.
"The editors of Ms. magazine will be glad to hear it," Alex said, still looking at the kids.
Isabel reached out, took his chin in her fingers, and turned his head toward her. "It's okay that I'm talking to you about Trevor, isn't it?"
Alex met her gaze steadily. "Yeah. I get a little… ping, I guess you'd call it," he said with a shrug. "But it's just your basic guy jealousy crap. I mean, we're friends, Isabel. And I-dork alert again-I love you as a friend. I want you to have everything you want. Including Trevor if that's the way it goes down."
"I love you, too," Isabel answered. "And there's nothing dorky about it. God, I would miss you so much if I went. You, and Maria, and Liz. And it's not like I could just call you up if I needed to hear your voice. I couldn't even send my parents a Christmas card."
"When is all this supposed to happen?" Alex asked, looking away again. "When are Trevor and Michael going to go back?"
"They're going to use the wormhole we open to send the device," Isabel answered.
"So tomorrow." Alex sounded a little dazed.
Isabel knew how he was feeling. How could she make a decision about the rest of her life in less than a day?
"I told Trevor I needed to see how Max was first," Isabel said, following Alex's gaze out over the golf course. "If he needs me, I'm staying. That's it."
"But if Max comes through okay…" Alex let his sentence trail off.
Isabel took a deep breath and sighed. "Then… then I might end up going."
Stop! Maria ordered her feet. Stop right there.
But her feet kept walking as if they had minds of their own-walking back toward the museum, even though she'd only left the place a few hours before.
"Turn around," she pleaded, feeling so desperate, she was willing to be seen talking to her feet on a public sidewalk. The feet didn't obey. Step by step by step, they kept taking her closer to the museum. To Michael.
Her feet marched her across the UFO parking lot, then straight up the stairs. Maria's hand seemed to have its own brain, too. It opened the apartment door, without knocking, and then the feet moved her straight inside.
Just because I'm here doesn't mean I have to say anything I don't want to say, she thought. I can just tell Michael I thought I left my jacket over here or something. Then I'll just leave. If my demonic feet will let me.
Michael stepped out of the kitchen, and Maria's heart hit her throat. He looked at her like she was the very last person on earth he wanted to see. "Thought I heard someone come in."
Maria's feet walked her right over to him, not stopping until there were only a few inches separating her from him. He took a step back. The feet took a step forward. Okay, ask about the jacket, she told herself.
"Tell me the exact, precise, Michael-Webster-dictionary definition of 'I'm thinking about it,'" she demanded, her voice coming out loud and defiant. Oh, God. Her mouth was possessed, too.
"What?" Michael asked, his voice low.
"Don't pull any crap, Michael. We both know exactly what I'm asking you. Are you going? Or are you staying? Tell me. Right here. Right now," Maria insisted.
I didn't mean to say that! I didn't want to say that! she silently wailed.
Michael went into his usual lockdown mode, giving no indication of what he was thinking or feeling. "Look, I'm not asking for much. What I want is information. And if you're leaving, I want a good-bye. You owe me that much," Maria continued.
She didn't know who she was channeling. But whoever it was, Maria was starting to like her. Michael did owe her a good-bye. He couldn't just disappear from her life as if… as if they barely knew each other.
Michael hesitated, silence filling the room all around them. All the power and fight evaporated from Maria's body. Suddenly she was in control of her feet again. And her mouth. Whatever Michael was going to say to her, she was going to have to hear without whatever force had gotten her this far.
"Good-bye." Michael's voice was flat. His eyes were on hers, but there was no hint of emotion in their gray depths. Not anger. Not sadness. Nothing. Something died inside Maria.
"Good-bye," she repeated. "That's it?"
"That's what you said you wanted," he answered. "What did you expect? You know I've been trying to find a way home my whole life. And the rebellion-my parents were part of that."
His parents. Maria hadn't even thought of that. His parents had been part of the Kindred, and his brother was part of it now. Joining the group was Michael's chance at feeling like part of a family.
"Why couldn't you say that to me before?" she asked. "If you cared about me even a little, tiny bit, you would have come out and-"
Maria stopped herself. What was the point? She was his friend. Someone he might miss a little. Someone he might think about once in a while. But she wasn't vital to him. Not like he was to her. He was her oxygen. Her water. Her sustenance. And she was his friend. Friend. What a weak, pathetic word that was.
"Maria, you know I-" Michael began.
"See you tomorrow." Maria couldn't deal with listening to him try to come up with something nice to say to her. Nice. Another weak, pathetic word. She spun around and raced for the door. Then she flew down the steps. About halfway to the ground, she stumbled. One of her feet slid on the stairs, and she fell sideways, hard.
Agony erupted in her ankle. For a moment all Maria could do was squeeze her eyes shut and let the pain wash through her. Then she grabbed the stair rail with one hand and used her other hand to straighten her leg. When she thought she could stand without screaming, she carefully limped down the remaining stairs.