the last to know

Michael climbed over Isabel, pressing her deep into the blankets of her bed and kissing her again. Any hesitation they'd felt earlier had been washed away with the realization that, yes, this was really happening and they were both willing partners. Now there was an urgency in their kisses, as if they were afraid to take their mouths off each other and possibly realize it had been a mistake. A mistake that would never be able to be taken back.

He planted his knee between her legs and she parted them further, instinctively, pushing herself against him. His deft hands roamed lightly over her body, slowly searching for its meaning. Isabel squirmed beneath his solid weight, her breath coming in raspy gasps as she arched herself against him, towards him. Savoring their mingling flavor as his tongue plundered her mouth and she devoured him, sizzling as his fingers played on the exposed skin beneath the hem of her blouse.

When he touched the bare flesh of her taut stomach, she could hear colors and flashes from inside his hands. Their minds met and danced and twisted and became one. He moved one hand down the sensitive underside of her arm and twined his fingers through hers, moving partly off to rest his weight beside her and gaze into her mind, fathoms deep and neverending. They lay silently staring into each other, their lips barely touching, breathing each other's breath into their lungs.

"Hey... Ummmm... Hmm." He blinked slowly, "I- Uhhh... I knocked. Whoa." Max shook his head and stared at them as they sat up and Isabel smoothed down her disheveled hair, running a finger around her kiss-bitten lips. Her eyes didn't leave her brother's, challenging him in a language only they would ever understand. He shifted his attention to Michael, who sat staring at his hands, twisting the solid metal band around one finger and picking at his nails.

Michael would never do anything to hurt either of them, and the last thing he wanted was for Max to be angry at him. He didn't want Max to ever think that he would hurt Isabel, or him.

"No. I should have waited, or... something." The polite protocol was unecessary, the all knew that. "Mom said you guys were watching a movie or something. I had no idea... Ummmm... Hmm." He stumbled over his words, clearly embarrassed himself.

Max stood in the entrance to Isabel's in a minor state of shock. He didn't seem angry or upset, just very much taken aback and a bit confused. He looked back and forth between Isabel, who made no move to take her hand from Michael's thigh, and Michael, who seemed about to leap from his skin as he picked invisible lint from his black jeans. He never raised his eyes from their downward cast.

"Uhhh... maybe I should take off?" He practically whispered hoarsely and began to stand.

"No!," came both of their hasty replies. Isabel's hand gripped his leg and she pulled him back to seated. He looked into her dark eyes and he could feel his bottom lip begin to tremble ever so invisibly, longing to taste her lips between his again. She smiled slyly at him and they both turned back to Max. He had finally entered the room and shut the door behind him. pulling a chair close to where they say on the bed, he sat and leaned in close.

"Max, I'm not sure that this is really your business. You're my brother, not my father," Isabel said sharply.

He leaned back into the chair and looked at her incredulously, his eyes shifting to look at Michael who seemed to be waiting for the bed to swallow him whole.

"That's not what I meant... It's about," he lowered his voice a notch, "Well, I saw Sheriff Valenti with Miss Topolsky at The Crashdown, they came in right after you left, Michael. It seemed relatively random and all that, but it gave me that weird, paranoid feeling. Like they were talking about me, or us... I don't know, I just think that we should keep an eye on them."

Michael came in close, "She's been at my house a bunch of times. And yesterday, she followed me and Mar--" He tried to play it off, but Max and Isabel both caught his reaction. She shot him a half-irked glance, and he went on. "She followed us from school to the Crashdown. We were walking, but she was in her car, and everytime we turned a corner, she was there at the light, just ahead of us or just behind. I didn't really think anything of it then, but in retrospect it was kinda screwy. I'm guessing it had nothing to do with my cutting class."

Max got that concerned look in his eyes, as if he were adding up lists upon lists of numbers. Putting together every, single moment of interaction that each of them had had with the so-called guidance counselor and still coming up relatively empty. Isabel screwed up her face. For just five minutes, wouldn't it be nice to be allowed to concentrate on being a horny, sixteen-year-old? Wasn't that honestly enough to deal with? Ever since Max has chosen to reveal them to Liz Parker, the melodrama had become too much to bear.

They all felt it, but they each dealt in such different ways. Max got concerned and overwhelmed himself inside the dramatic mystery, Isabel worried and tried to remain in as complete control as she possibly could, and Michael got hyperparanoid and angry. And evidently, horny. Between the three of them, they had all the bases covered.

"So what do you think, Max?" Isabel said, a hint of impatience tinged in her voice.

"I'm not sure, yet. I guess we do nothing for now. We keep to ourselves, go about things as usual, and keep our eyes open. She could be FBI, but she could be the new guidance counselor. For all we know, she could be dating Valenti. Stranger things have happened in Roswell."

"No, Maxwell. I'm not going to just sit on my hands and wait for this bitch to come after us. We should do something." Michael started to stand but Isabel pulled him back onto the bed by the seat of his jeans.

"Michael," she whispered, "Not now. Max is right, we should just keep an eye on her for a while. I'll take a look into her later and we can maybe get some clues. Until then, let's just think about other things, OK?" Her fingers were still hooked through the belt loop of his pants and she slid her thumb up to stroke his back lightly. "So? Where are you off to now, Max?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm not going anywhere. Did you guys want to go get an ice cream or something at the Crashdown?" Max recognized that Isabel was trying to get rid of him, but he thought he'd play with them a bit before just relegating them to themselves. He smiled innocently at the pair on the bed and looked towards the television. "Hey, what movies did you get to watch?"

Michael let out a deep, irritated sigh. If Max wasn't going to let him get to the bottom of this Topolsky drama, the very least he could do was get the hell out of Isabel's bedroom and leave them alone. Isabel's cool finger playing on the small of his back, the small spirals she traced, were driving him practically psychotic.

"Max, maybe you should go to the supermarket and get us all some ice cream? Then we can watch the movies together when you get back." There was a twinkle in Isabel's eye challenging Max. Finally, he stood and replaced the chair behind Isabel's desk.

"Fine. I'll get out of your hair, but I've got two words for you guys. Be good..." He said his last statement in a nasal, drawn out voice laughing as he turned his back on them and walked from the room, closing the door behind him. Isabel went to the door and locked it. Turning her back to the door, she leered at Michael looking about to pounce.