He was dreaming again. The swirling gray mist, which had once been another beautiful part of her, now smothered him. He spun around, eyes seeking her out.
"Is?"
She appeared before him suddenly, red pajamas shining, hair cascading around her shoulders. She smiled softly at him.
"Hi Max."
His hands hung limply at his sides. The ache was gone, the burn that he had always felt. The need to touch her.
"Hey Is."
She moved closer to him, and he found himself stepping back. He had to get away...he had to breathe.
"Max...what's wrong?"
She sounded alarmed. Oh God. She would never understand. They would never understand.
"Nothing. I just didn't...know I was sleeping. Caught me off guard, I guess."
She was smiling again. His heart rate, his thoughts, slowed.
"Oh."
She came closer again, and he forced himself to hold his ground.
"How are things?"
Things? What in the hell were things? Is that what she called being locked up in an FBI lab? 'Things'?
"Just fine."
The sarcasm in his voice surprised even him. He could see that she was hurt.
"I was just asking�"
"I know. I'm just...tired, that's all."
She touched his face. Her skin was so soft. He wondered if Liz's was softer.
"What have they been doing to you?"
"Nothing. She's really nice, actually."
Damn. Had he just said she?
"She?"
Apparently so.
"Yeah�L�Elizabeth. The�agent that's�working with me?"
He had no idea what the right word would be. Working definitely didn't seem to be it.
"Oh. And she's nice?"
He nodded, no longer trusting words.
"Well that's nice."
He rolled his eyes.
"What, would you rather they were torturing me, Is? Because I'm sure if I asked them nicely enough, they would in a second. Actually, I can just go right now and tell..."
"What is wrong with you?"
He backed away from her, no longer caring what she thought.
"Everything, Is! In case you'd forgotten, I'm being held by the FBI right now. Me. Not you, not Michael. I know you say you care, but you don't know. I'm living in a glass cage, for God's sake. Everything I do, every move I make is watched by...whoever wants to see! I finally find somebody who is nice to me, who tries to actually talk to me and make sure that I'm not having a nervous breakdown in there, and you get jealous! Am I supposed to be okay with that?"
A tear slipped from her eye.
"I'm sorry, Max�I didn't know."
"Yeah, I know."
He turned away from her.
"I'm really tired, Is. I'd like to actually get some sleep."
"Okay."
He waited a moment before turning around, and when he did she was gone.
He woke up to the darkness.
Isabel's image was still burned clearly in his mind. Her face, shocked and hurt, the tear that had fallen from her eye. It caused a mix of emotions inside of him; one that he knew he had no hope of sorting through anytime soon. He was tired of trying. He just wanted to forget her right now. Forget everything she had been to him, before here. Forget everything that they had said, all that they had done. Just forget.
He wondered if Liz had gone home that night. He hoped so. He hated to think of her sleeping another night in this room.
He could tell, even without asking, that something was wrong with her. Something that went beyond a fight with her husband. Beyond the bright exterior, the smiles and the neat clothes, she was tired. Tired and sad.
She didn't deserve that.
If only things had been different. If only�
The door opened, and a dark figure slipped into the room.
He watched carefully, not moving.
It was probably Dr. Davies again, back to do his weird night visit thing. The figure moved quietly across the room, stopping at the desk and slinking down into the chair. Then a light came on.
It was Liz.
She was holding a coke and a huge bag of chips in one hand, a duffel bag in another. She placed her things down, and then turned around to check on him.
When she saw that he was awake, she smiled and reached to press the intercom button.
"Hey Max."
"What are you doing here, Liz?"
He grimaced at his harsh tone.
"I work here, remember?"
Her smile was strained.
"Sorry�I just meant, what are you doing here this late. Why didn't you go home tonight?"
She shrugged, and opened her coke.
"I did go home. Just picked up some clothes and things. I just...didn't want to be there when Kyle got home. I'm not ready to face him yet."
"Oh."
She looked down at her chips, and then to him.
"Max?"
"Yeah."
"What do they feed you?"
"Oh, just your normal, run of the mill alien food."
Her eyes widened.
"And what's that?"
"Hmm�pizza, sandwiches...roast beef."
He stared at her solemnly for a moment, and then burst out into laughter. She looked shocked, and then began to laugh as well.
"Very funny."
"Well, you should've seen the look on your face. It was."
"So you just...eat normal food?"
"Yep."
She opened up the bag, and pulled out a chip.
"How exactly do they get anything in there? As far as I can see, there's no door or anything."
He shrugged.
"Honestly, I don't know. They always manage to slip something in here while I'm sleeping. I've been wondering the same thing, though."
"That's strange."
"Yeah."
She put the bag back down while she kicked off her shoes and took off her jacket.
Picking up her duffel, she unzipped it and pulled out a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt.
"I hate sleeping in my work clothes."
Turning around in her desk chair, she quickly slipped off her blouse, pulling on the sweatshirt. He swallowed as he watched her, only able to see her outline from the back of her, but able to see her nonetheless. She was wiggling out of her skirt then, standing up slightly and then sitting back down. His imagination began to wander.
When she turned back around, he could barely look at her. Those shorts were very...short.
"You okay, Max?"
"Umm�fine."
He swallowed again.
"Oh. Ok."