Nightscape

Prologue

Isabel watched the road from the window of the van. She stared straight out, and the road flew past her field of vision. When she was bored with that, she could track a single spot a few feet away and watch that one pass more slowly. At least it gave the illusion of moving at a lower speed.

It was a child's game, one that would distract her for seconds at a time. When she was a girl, she would stare out the window watching the road go by and her mind would fly off to a thousand different directions… all of them fun, all of them exciting, and most of them having to do with the future. Now she was living that little girl's future and all she wanted to do was crawl back into that past life.

Isabel wasn't a girl anymore. She was a married woman… a married woman who had just lost her husband. Would she ever see Jesse again? She didn't think so. The memory of him pulled at her. How much of herself had she left in Roswell? Isabel had had plenty of time in the

last two weeks to ponder that question. She didn't like any of the answers she'd come up with.

Too much, she thought. Too many parts of herself that were good and full of new hope. What was left of her felt shredded, and the pieces didn't form a whole person… at least not a person she wanted to know, let alone be.

Finding no relief on the road, Isabel scanned the inside of the van. In the front, Max and Liz sat in contented silence. Isabel felt a flash of envy at Max's happiness. He had brought his life with him, or at least the part that mattered most to him: Liz.

Even Michael and Maria had each other. Of course they argued and got on each other's nerves, but that was no different from how it had been in Roswell. Kyle had come for his own reasons: He was running from a dead end future in Roswell. She knew he had come at least partly for her as well. There was a time when that would have fed her ego. Now, she just questioned his judgment.

Her past. Her hopes. Jesse. Silly schoolgirl dreams. They were chasing her, and Max couldn't drive fast enough to outrun them.

Ghosts.

There was only one kind of relief that Isabel had known on this trip, and she felt it tugging gently at the edge of her awareness. She allowed herself to drop deeper and finally she felt sleep take her. She didn't fight it. In fact, she embraced it fiercely…

Or desperately, she thought.

Isabel dreamed she was being pulled somewhere. She didn't want to go. She was afraid, but she felt herself going, anyway.

Then she realized she wasn't being pulled anymore. She was walking. It was her own legs that were taking her. She was no less afraid, but she felt relief that she was at least in control.

Looking down at her legs, she saw that she was wearing a dress and… those shoes. Isabel realized where she was. She looked up again, and sure enough she was on the dance floor… it was the gym at school.

The prom.

The room was full of kids from school. Isabel knew that Max and Michael were in here somewhere, but she knew it wasn't them she had come to see. Suddenly, she wanted to dance. After all, except for a few dances with her new husband at the wedding, she hadn't danced since the prom, the night that everything had changed for her.

"Can I have this dance?" a voice behind her said.

Isabel turned and saw Alex, looking just as he had at the prom. He was smiling and holding out a hand to her.

She took his hand and felt the tears come freely to her eyes.

"Hey, hey. There's no need for that. It's tough on my ego, you know," he said.

Isabel grabbed him tightly and fell into a silent, slow dance with him. When she felt she was composed enough, she leaned back and looked at him. He was smiling at her, looking at her the way he had at the prom… and a thousand times before that. She hadn't seen it for a long time. Then, she hadn't taken the look seriously. But finally she had known what the look meant, because at the prom she had looked at him the same way. "Is it really you, Alex?" Isabel asked.

"Do you really doubt it?" he asked.

She looked at him closely. He looked like Alex and, more importantly, he felt like Alex. "But is it really you, or is it me

imagining you? Imagining what you'd look like, what you'd say?" Isabel asked. She realized her voice sounded a little desperate, but she didn't care.

"I don't know, Isabel. I can't tell the difference," he said, and shrugged.

"I haven't seen you like this in so long," Isabel said.

After Alex died, she had seen him in her mind and talked

with him often, but it had been a while. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had seen him. Seen him or dreamed him? She couldn't tell the difference.

"I've been here," he said. "You just stopped coming around. You don't call, you don't write… "

"I know, I'm sorry. It's been so crazy…," she said, but it sounded weak to her own ears.

"What with, falling in love with jesse and getting married to him?" Alex said, a smile on his lips.

Isabel didn't know how to respond.

"It's okay. You had to move on. I'm stuck here, you don't have to be. And he seemed like a nice enough guy, if you like that Latin GQ type," he said.

"jealous?" she teased.

"Duh," he said.

"Aren't you supposed to be above that now?" she said.

Alex only shrugged.

Isabel smiled. "He was good to me," she said.

"I know. I want you to be happy, and if those kind of freakish good looks made you happy, so be it," he said.

"Michael said he just wasn't the one. And maybe he was right. I left fesse, and I left him because I could leave him. I love him, but I was able to go."

Alex nodded as if he understood.

Nightktscape

"I never forgot this night," she said.

"Me either," he replied. "Come on."

Alex led her to the side of the gym. On the way she noticed that everyone else had disappeared. Now it was just the two of them, alone in the gym. He stopped in front of the punch bowl and poured two cups, giving her one. "It's funny the things you miss," he said as he raised his glass.

Isabel touched hers to his. "To old friends," she said.

"To the future," he replied pointedly. Alex took a long sip, finishing the punch in one gulp.

"Isabel, you know you have to move on," he said. But as he spoke he was looking at her intently, "I mean really move on," he said. He paused for a moment and said, "It's getting late."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It means I have to move on too," he explained, "but I can't if you keep me here."

"I have tried. I don't know how to," she said. She was lying and afraid that he could see the lie on her face. Keeping him to herself was selfish, but she couldn't let go. She couldn't give him up yet.

"Okay," he said gently, "just try, okay?"

Isabel nodded, and then he leaned down and kissed her softly, and sweetly. "It's getting late," he said.

Then Alex disappeared. The room went dark, and Isabel was alone.

Then there were voices. They were talking, calling her to them.

"How about the deli?" someone said.

Isabel opened her eyes. She was in the van. They were parked on the street in a town somewhere.

"Deli food sounds good to me," she said quickly.