"Nope," he answered firmly, sounding calm. He yanked open the door and strode into the living room, where he could hear the TV on. He found the Max thing sitting in front of the tube, which was where it had been when he left for school that morning. Michael walked straight over to him-it. "Hey, Max. I've been thinking about it a lot, and Isabel and Liz and Alex are right. If you want to get home, we should all be helping you."

Here goes, he thought. He clamped his hand down on Max's shoulder and focused on making the connection.

Am I in? Michael thought. He wasn't getting any images, the way he usually did when he connected, but he had felt kind of a click-a meeting of two pieces.

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax, trying to let the images in. All he saw was blackness. Did the consciousness sense his intention? Was it trying to keep him out?

Max! Michael thought. Max! I'm here. But I'm getting blocked.

A rushing sound filled his ears, and he could feel pressure building inside his brain. Pushing from all sides. Squeezing his gray matter into a tennis-ball-size lump.

Michael's eyes began to water, feeling like they would pop any second with the pressure. The pressure…

He dug his fingers into Max's skin, refusing to break the connection. He knew the Stones could help him, but it was too soon to use them. He had to wait until he was sure he could direct the power into the consciousness.

The rushing sound grew louder. Something warm and wet trickled out of his left ear. Michael gathered all his energy and threw out one more mental shout. Maaaax!

The image of Max's face flared in Michael's mind, obliterating the darkness. He felt his brain expand, the horrible crushing pressure easing up, the roaring in his ears dimming. His whole body lightened until he was no longer sure if his feet were on the floor. Max's face disintegrated into a swirl of colors. The most beautiful colors Michael had ever seen. So rich and vivid, he could almost feel them.

He rolled onto a patch of tangerine, letting it soak into every pore, mix with his blood, seep through every cell membrane, stain his protons and electrons and neutrons. He became the color. And the color became him. And the tangerine Michael felt good.

Above him was an expanse of saffron yellow. He stretched out his arms and pulled the color toward him, opening his mouth so he could swallow it. It traveled like liquid fire down his throat and into his stomach. The heat turned Michael saffron from the inside out. And the saffron Michael felt good, too.

He spun, weightless, free, and spotted a geyser of indigo. He had to experience it. With a hoot of pleasure he propelled himself under the spray, tilting back his head, letting the color drench him, letting it-

"Michael! No.'"

Michael snapped his head up. That was Max's voice.

You've got to get out! Now! Max ordered, speaking thought to thought with Michael.

Why? Michael thought back. He stared down at his indigo hands. They were so beautiful. His body was almost coated. But he wanted more. Needed it. He dove straight into the geyser.

Noooo!

Max's wail grew fainter, then cut off abruptly.

"Why is Michael smiling like that?" Maria whispered in Liz's ear, her face all scrunched up. "It's kind of… creepy."

Liz tore her eyes away from Michael and shot a quick glance at Maria. A little shiver ran from her shoulders to the base of her spine. "I don't know, but you're right."

Alex moved up closer behind them. Liz could feel his breath on the top of her head. "How do we think this is going?" he asked softly.

Liz forced herself to look down at Max's face. It was lifeless, just like always. Her blood was starting to pump faster, and she was getting tense. There were too many questions here. Too many unknowns. Who knew what was going on inside Max and Michael's heads?

"I have no idea," she said. She felt so helpless just standing here. Watching. Not even knowing exactly what she was watching for.

"If Michael had started using the Stones, we'd definitely see the glow, even through his pocket," Isabel said. She shifted a little closer to Liz, and now they were all standing in a tense little clump. "It seems like it's taking too long."

"Except this has never been done before, so there's really no way to know how long is too long," Alex offered.

"It just feels too long, okay?" Isabel snapped.

"I really don't like the way Michael's smiling," Maria said. None of them looked at one another when they were talking. The Max-Michael connection was just too riveting.

Liz didn't have any comforting response to Maria's comment, so she reached out and took Maria's hand. A moment later she felt Isabel grab her other hand. Alex stretched out his arms and managed to encompass all three of them.

And they watched. And waited. Each second stretching out until it felt as long as an hour.

Liz's eyes began to burn with the strain. She'd been trying not to blink too much just in case. You're not going to miss anything in two seconds, she told herself, letting her eyes close briefly.

A gasp escaped from deep in her throat when she opened them again. Max's face was twisted in agony. Then almost instantly it lost all animation, jaw slack, eyes dull.

"Did you see-" she began.

"Yes," Isabel answered, squeezing Liz's hand so hard, an arrow of pain zinged up her arm.

"What did it look like to you?" Liz demanded, keeping her eyes locked on Max in case there was another lightning change.

"What are you talking about?" Maria jumped in.

"Max's face-for a second it looked like he was himself again. And that something hideous was happening to him," Isabel answered. There were tears in her voice.

"I missed it," Alex said. He hadn't let go of them, and he squeezed a little tighter.

"I was looking at Michael," Maria admitted sheepishly.

Liz broke free from their little knot and slowly crossed the room toward Max and Michael. She circled them, looking for anything that might tell her what had happened, but they looked just like they had before. Maria, Alex, and Isabel joined her a moment later.

"Michael's hand," Maria choked out.

Liz's throat tightened as she lowered her gaze to Max's shoulder. She was definitely going to throw up.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Maria begged, her blue eyes wide with terror.

Liz reached out and gently gave Michael's wrist a tug. It didn't move. "You're not wrong," she told Maria. She swallowed hard before saying the next, completely ridiculous, but true words. "Michael's hand… it's started growing into Max's shoulder."

Isabel bolted toward the front door. "Trevor, get up here!" Liz heard her scream. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, then Isabel and Trevor burst back into the room. Trevor skidded to a stop in front of Michael and Max.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Alex barked. He was paler than Liz had ever seen him, and she knew she looked the same way. It was all she could do to keep from fainting at this point.

Trevor opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed, as if his throat was suddenly too dry to let him speak. "No," he croaked out. "But it looks like-I think Michael is being absorbed into Max. Into the consciousness."

"Can we cut him free?" Liz asked, wincing at the thought of a knife penetrating Max's skin. "Only one of Michael's fingers is completely submerged, and it isn't deep. I can see the lump." She had to take a deep breath to keep from dry heaving.

There was a soft sucking sound, and as Liz watched, Michael's hand slid into Max's shoulder all the way up to the wrist.

"It's speeding up," Trevor said, sounding desperate.