Isabel handed her dad's credit card to the Victoria's Secret saleslady. She already had on her new purchase-a silky, pale pink camisole edged with a thin row of delicate lace. Only the tiniest peek of it was visible under the V neck of her sweater. Just how she wanted it.

When she showed up at the museum, she didn't want to look like she was on some kind of manhunt. That kind of desperation was so not Isabel. No, she didn't want to look like she'd put any special thought into what she was wearing at all. What she did want was for Michael to catch a flash of the camisole and be… intrigued.

The saleslady handed the card back, Isabel signed the slip, and she was out of there. She strolled to the mall exit, not breaking a sweat, and then made her way across the parking lot and over to the bus stop. Usually she would have at least tried to con Max out of the Jeep keys, but he would have totally freaked if he knew she was planning to go out of the house. He thought she was spending the day in bed, recovering.

"Isabel, I thought you'd still be home in bed," Michael exclaimed. He ran over to the staircase and watched her climb up the last couple of steps. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Maybe you should have skipped the meeting."

"What meeting?" she asked.

"Everyone's coming over after school to figure out the Adam deal," he explained. "They should be here in about an hour."

"Oh, right," she mumbled.

"Sit down, at least." He snatched up three of the beanbags and stacked them.

"Michael, I'm fine. Relax, okay?" She dropped to the floor, and he positioned himself across from her. "Actually, I hardly remember any of what even happened yesterday. Max had to explain everything to me when I woke up."

"Whoa. Well, that's good, I guess." He wondered if her mind had blocked out what she'd seen when she connected to Adam because it had been too disturbing for her to handle. He would never forget the expression of raw terror on her face when he burst into the room.

"So, where's Cameron?" Isabel asked.

Michael was glad he couldn't see the expression on his own face when he heard that question. He wished he could record an answer and play it for everyone who asked.

"She took off," he muttered. "Didn't think Roswell was safe for her anymore."

"What? She just took off? I thought you guys had a little something goin' on," Isabel said.

Michael raised an eyebrow at Isabel, then smiled. "Well, we don't have anything now."

Isabel started playing with the neck of her sweater, and he caught a glimpse of some kind of silky thing underneath. He realized his eyes had lingered there a little too long, and he forced them up to Isabel's face. She was staring at him, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

"What?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "What, what?"

"You were staring at me," he answered.

"I like being able to look at you," she answered. "I thought I was going crazy when you were in the compound. I kept thinking I might never see you again." She paused and pulled in a shaky breath.

"I knew you guys would find a way to get me out of there," he answered.

"I could feel you all the time-you know, feel your feelings," she continued. "Whatever I was doing, it's like you were with me."

Including when I had my tongue in Cameron's mouth? he thought. An echo of that sensation hit him so hard, he could almost taste her again. He slapped the memory away.

Michael knew Isabel was waiting for some kind of response. This time he had no idea what to say, so he just nodded. Like a big jerk.

"So, you know Alex and I broke up, right?" she asked.

And Isabel takes the gloves off, he thought. "Yeah. I heard."

"Michael, I saw your dream," Isabel blurted out. "You had your arms around me. So now you can't… Why are you acting like you have no feelings at all for me?"

"What dream?" he asked, picking the easier of the two questions.

"The dream," Isabel repeated, as if that cleared everything up. "It was a little while before you got captured. Maria and I decided to go dream walking just for fun. She picked your dream orb, and we saw you holding me."

"Wait a second here," he said, a smile of recognition spreading across his face. "Isabel, I think you misinterpreted that hug. It was actually part of a nightmare. I dreamed that Max died and we were at his funeral. That's why I was hugging you."

"Oh," Isabel said. Her face reddened as she looked at the ground.

"It's not that-" Michael struggled to find the right words. "It's just that you're my Izzy lizard," he said, using the pet name he'd come up with for her when she was a little girl.

"And that's it?" she asked. "You've never thought of me any other way?"

"Okay, yeah, I have," he answered. He was a guy. He'd thought about a lot of things with a lot of girls.

But it was different with Isabel. He didn't think about her in that fast, speculative, pretty much automatic way he thought about a cute girl in the park or whatever.

"I've definitely thought about you as something different from a big brother," she confessed. "We come from the same place. We understand each other in ways that no human could understand us. That means something."

It meant a lot. Isabel would never betray him. It would be like betraying herself. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were capable of something more.

Michael's eyes locked with Isabel's, and when she leaned toward him and found his lips with her own, he didn't pull away. They kissed-a deep, full kiss.

But there was nothing there-no chemistry whatsoever. It was like kissing his little sister.

Michael started to pull back, but Isabel laced her hands behind his neck, keeping their lips pressed together.

Suddenly an ice pick of pain stabbed into Michael's brain. He tried to jerk away, but Isabel's hands were now pressing firmly on his back.

Michael made one last attempt to get free before his vision dimmed. His world went black.

Cameron did a quick study of the people scattered around the tiny bus station. Yeah, there were a few good faces. She should have no problem scoring a ticket.

She headed up to the window, scanned the departure times and the rates, and picked a town that was twelve bucks away. Twelve bucks was an amount that a kind stranger would be willing to give to a girl in need.

"One for Hobbs," she told the ticket guy. She reached into her pocket and allowed a slight frown to cross her face. Nothing major. She checked the other pocket. She felt her stomach cramp, as if she'd actually expected to find something there and was sort of sickened when she didn't.

I should be one of those method actors, she thought. The ones who totally live the parts they play.

"Something wrong?" the ticket guy asked.

"My wallet's gone," she answered, the tiniest quaver infecting her voice. "I know I had it at breakfast." She checked her pockets again. "Is the three-fifteen the only bus to Hobbs?"

"Only one today," he answered.

"I really have to get home today. If I called my dad, could he use his credit card to pay for the ticket?" Cameron asked. "I could call collect."

"That would be fine," the guy answered. Not a trace of suspicion on his face.

Damn, I'm good, she thought as he slid the phone toward her. She punched in the numbers for a collect call, then the numbers for a pay phone in front of a deserted gas station she'd stumbled across three towns ago. She'd been using it as hers ever since. If she happened to get picked up by the cops, she liked being able to give them a number where she was sure it would ring and very sure no one would answer.