"Ray took something that didn't belong to him. I have to get it back," Adam answered, his voice deeper than Cameron remembered it. He took a step forward, but Michael and Max wouldn't let him pass.

"Move," Adam demanded.

"No," Michael said firmly. "We're not moving. You want to get past us, you're going to have to take us out. Is that what you want to do, Adam? You want to attack us? Look at us. I'm the one who helped you escape from the compound. Max is the one who took care of you when you got out."

Is he even capable of remembering them? Cameron wondered. He seemed so completely different. Was there enough of the old Adam left to respond to what Michael was saying?

"Maybe you should just let him go," she cried. She'd seen what Adam had done to Valenti. She would go insane if she had to watch that happen to Michael. But there was no way she could fight Adam. She was powerless.

"No, we're not letting him go," Michael answered, his eyes locked on Adam's. "If he wants out, he has to go through us."

Why did he keep saying that? He might as well just dump gas all over himself, hand Adam a blowtorch, and get it over with.

Adam gave a growl of frustration. A tremor raced through his body. Then he collapsed, as if all his bones had turned to liquid.

"This was the first time I've seen him conscious since we were in the compound together," Michael said. He crouched down beside Adam.

Cameron slowly walked over. She had this crazy fear that Adam would suddenly sit up and attack them all, like a deranged killer in some horror movie. She told herself to get a grip and knelt next to Michael. "The way Adam looks is the only thing that's the same. He was like the world's biggest little boy when he was with us." She gave a choked laugh. "It kind of creeped me out at first, how innocent he was. Like he'd been raised by teddy bears or something."

"Are you starting to understand why I wanted him kept knocked out?" Max asked Michael, his voice cold enough to give a freezer burn.

I thought they were supposed to be best friends, Cameron thought. With friends like that… Although she supposed Max had his reasons.

"We're never going to be able to figure out what made him like this if he's unconscious," Michael answered.

"We're never going to be able to figure out what made him like this if we're dead," Max shot back.

"He didn't do anything to hurt us," Michael protested.

"This time." Max shook his head. "What I don't get is why he was talking about Ray. Ray died before Adam got out of the compound."

"I connected to him a few times," Michael said. "Maybe he got images of Ray from me… but that wouldn't explain why he was looking for something of Ray's."

"Well, we can't ask him now." Max bent down and grabbed Adam's limp arms. "Help me get him back to the bedroom."

Michael grabbed Adam's legs and stood up. Cameron stayed where she was, watching as they hauled him off. She hoped Adam stayed out until she was ready to leave. This was a situation she did not need to deal with.

"So is he okay?" she asked when Michael came back into the living room.

He shrugged. "You know everything I know." He dropped back down on the ripped-up beanbag chair he'd been sitting on before Adam's breakout attempt.

Cameron got up and moved over to the debeaned beanbag chair across from him. It kept her a little farther away from him than before at least. "So are you staying here again tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah. I can't exactly go back to my foster home after disappearing for more than a week," he answered. He flicked some beanbag stuffing off the knee of his jeans. "I guess when this whole Adam thing is… over, I'll have to go kiss my social worker's feet. He'll probably have to find me a new home. I don't think the Pascals are going to want me back."

Cameron nodded. She knew how that felt. She doubted her parents had even wanted her on the day she was born. The only reason they wanted her back now was because it seemed the proper parental response to her running away-and because she was a good psychological punching bag.

"So, I was going to help you choose between Maria and Isabel," Cameron said, trying to distract Michael a bit.

"Okay, here's the thing," Michael said. "Say you went into an ice-cream store and the guy behind the counter points to two of the tubs and says you can pick between those two flavors. But the freezer case is filled with all these other tubs with all these other flavors. The two tubs of ice cream look great. You're sure they would taste amazing. But what if you're really in the mood for something else?"

Cameron groaned. "Can we please go back to talking about Lime Warps?" she said, grinning. "Because I have a bad feeling that I'm a tub of ice cream in this scenario. A tub of ice cream. Do you notice something about the wording there that might not be overly appealing?"

"Bad scenario. Sorry. Let me try again." Before she knew what he was doing, he had her face cupped in his hands. An instant later his mouth was on hers.

This is a big mistake. This is a monumentally big mistake, Cameron thought. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned back, pulling Michael down on top of her.

Isabel paused outside the museum's side door and applied a fresh coat of mochaccino lipstick, then she headed in. It was time for her all-night guard duty session. By morning Michael was not even going to remember Cameron's name.

She picked her way across the trashed museum and headed up the staircase leading to Ray's living room. Halfway to the top she heard something that made her blood start to sizzle, something that made it very clear that at least right now, Michael knew Cameron's name very well. He was practically groaning it.

Isabel dashed up the rest of the stairs, and her blood went from sizzling to a full boil when she saw Michael and Cameron sprawled on the floor. Cameron's hands were buried under Michael's shirt. From where Isabel was standing, she couldn't see exactly where Michael's hands were, but she didn't need to see them to know they were someplace they shouldn't be. They should be on her-not Cameron.

She was way prettier than Cameron, no contest. The girl had a body like a boy. Why would Michael want to be making out with that?

They were held prisoner in the compound together, she reminded herself. Maybe that created some kind of twisted thing between them. Something must have happened because Isabel was standing about three feet away from Michael and he was so caught up in kissing Cameron that he hadn't noticed. That was just not something that could have happened unless Michael had been through some major psychological trauma.

Well, there was someone who could tell her exactly what went on between them in the compound. And Isabel was going to get the whole story from him right now. She rushed across the room and down the hall to the bedroom where they'd been keeping Adam. Max sat in front of the door.

"Your shifts over," she said. "Liz said to tell you she'd meet you at our house."

"Maybe I should stay," he answered. "Adam… it's not that he's done anything, exactly. He only got up once, and Michael and I kept him from leaving, but-"

"Michael's here. We'll be fine," Isabel interrupted. She reached down and hauled her brother to his feet.

"Call me if anything happens," Max told her, his voice tense. "And don't underestimate him, Izzy. You have to think of him as a completely different person from the one we first met. Think of him as dangerous."

"I will. I promise," she answered. Was he ever going to leave? She couldn't talk to Adam until he did.

"Liz and I might go over to Flying Pepperoni, so if you need me and I'm not home, try over there. And if I'm not there, try the Crashdown."