It's not working, she realized. Something else. Something else. Liz wiped off her finger and Max's hand, then rooted through her backpack frantically. She'd really thought the ketchup was a great choice, but just because that smell always jerked her back to that wonderful, horrible moment didn't mean it was the trigger for Max.

"Maybe this will work for you," Liz said. She pulled free a dark green dress, lace over a lighter, silky smooth layer, then ran the cloth down Max's cheek. "This was what I was wearing when I told you I loved you the very first time. Remember?" She rubbed the cloth against his skin again, harder. Too hard. The lace made a row of tiny scratches.

"Oh, sorry." Liz kissed her fingers, then pressed them over the scratches. "Sorry," she repeated, kissing the scratches themselves.

She scooted closer to Max, and the backpack fell onto the floor. She didn't bother to pick it up. When she'd been gathering all the items that might snap Max back to her, she'd forgotten about the physical sensation that, at least for her, was more powerful than anything else-a kiss.

Liz knew the consciousness could be feeling everything that she was doing to Max and that he might not be aware of any of it. But she pushed that thought out of her mind.

"I love you, Max," she said, clearly and forcefully. Then she lowered her head and kissed him, trying to infuse the kiss with all the emotion and passion she had inside her-that she had inside her for Max.

His lips were cool, and still, and dead feeling, but Liz didn't pull away. I love you, she thought. Can't you feel that? Remember? Remember?

A hand wrapped itself in her hair. Another hand pressed itself against her back, urging her closer, closer, closer. Without breaking the kiss, Liz opened her eyes and looked into Max's eyes-bright and aware and full of love.

She pulled back just enough to speak. "Oh, God, Max. You're all right!"

"Maybe Alex knew what he was talking about when he called me Snow White," he said, his voice thick. "I just needed the right kiss."

"You heard that?" Liz exclaimed. Then she kissed him again before he could answer, starving for the taste of him, wishing she could swallow him, absorb him, make him a part of her or become a part of him.

"Yeah, I heard that," Max answered finally, breathless. "I heard everything. But… I'd given up trying to fight my way back. I was too deep. It was too far. Then I felt you kissing me. And I just-"

He rolled her underneath him, stretching his body over hers. "Liz, there's so much I want to say. Need to say. About Adam. About how you were right about the consciousness all along. But I can't stop…" His mouth was on hers, desperate and fierce.

Liz locked one of her legs over his, then slid both her hands under his shirt so she could feel his skin. Closer. She wanted to be even closer.

"Max," she gasped, speaking his name against his lips.

Suddenly his mouth went slack. It slipped away from hers, and Max's head fell against Liz's shoulder as if all the muscles in his neck had been cut.

"Max!" Liz shouted. "Max!" His motionless body pinned her to the mattress, pressing down on her until she thought her heart and lungs would cease to function. "Max!" she screamed again.

Suddenly she was free. She sat up and found Alex and Isabel pulling Max to the other side of the bed. "What happened?" Alex demanded. "Did he attack you?"

"No." Liz shoved herself to her feet. "That's not…" She raised her fingers to her lips. They were still warm from Max's. "He kissed me."

TEN

Don't even think about demanding to know the exact meaning of "I'm thinking about it," Maria ordered herself. Don't even think about begging to know if he's going to go or if he's going to stay. She stared out at the straight stretch of highway leading to Albuquerque, not allowing herself even a sidelong, superfast peek at Michael. She could feel the questions on her tongue, crouched down, waiting to leap out.

No. No, no, no, she thought. Remember the last time you decided to hand Michael an ultimatum-choose between me and Isabel right here, right now? Remember what a babbling, stammering, sweating hunk of patheticness you were that day? And remember how you so did not like what you heard? You were positive you'd feel better if you could just make Michael say something concrete. But you were wrong. Wrong to the power of infinity. So learn from your past mistakes. Even rats in mazes can learn from their mistakes, and so can you. Keep your mouth shut.

Maria locked her teeth together. She crossed her legs. She crossed her arms. She tightened her muscles, using all her strength and will to not speak.

"Do you need to stop?" Michael asked, not even looking at her. "There's a gas station in a couple of miles, I think."

"Mmm-mmm," Maria answered, shaking her head. She didn't dare to allow herself any actual words.

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

"I'm not a toddler. I know if I have to pee or not, Michael, all right?" she blurted out. She clamped her teeth back together hard-and caught a tiny piece of her tongue between them. Do not attempt to speak again, she told herself. She'd felt this sucking sensation when she'd opened her mouth to make the pee announcement. If she hadn't gotten her lips together as fast as she had, a whole flood of words would have come rushing out. It would not have been pretty.

Maria scrunched her jean jacket into a ball, propped it against the window, and rested her head on it. She wasn't kidding herself. She knew that there was no chance she'd fall asleep. But pretending to fall asleep would make it easier to keep the dam of her teeth closed tight against the words.

She concentrated on keeping her breathing slow and even, which was the best way of appearing really zonked out, but for some reason the slower she breathed, the harder her heart pounded, slamming painfully against her ribs. It felt like it was trying to escape, to say the words she wouldn't allow her lips and tongue to form-Michael, what in the holy hell does "I'm thinking about it" mean? Are you going? Are you staying? And what about me?

"We're here," Michael announced. Maria only opened her eyes after the car came to a complete stop, then she scrambled out of the passenger door and started toward the main entrance of the Bradley Institute without waiting for Michael.

She rushed inside and over to the front desk. "I-we're-here to see Kyle Valenti," she said breathlessly, trying to concentrate on something other than the possibility that Michael was going to be living in another galaxy in the near future.

"That's nice," the nurse answered with a way-too-big smile. "Kyle hasn't had many visitors. Just his aunt." She pushed a clipboard toward Maria. "I just need you to sign here."

Maria did, then moved farther down the counter so Michael had room to sign as well. She caught a glimpse of his hands as he wrote and wished she hadn't. Just looking at them made her think about all kinds of things she didn't want to think about. Like the way they felt tangled in her hair. Or stroking her back. Not that his hands had been doing anything like that in a long time.

"I'll buzz you in," the nurse said, pulling Maria away from her thoughts. "Kyle's in the common room. It's the second door to the left."

Michael continued to trail along behind her, which wasn't exactly like him. Apparently he wasn't all that eager to talk to her, either. But why? She wasn't the one who was planning on deserting him.

"This is the second door," Michael announced from behind her.

"I knew that." Maria spun around and marched back down the hall to the second door. Michael opened it for her like she was some kind of invalid or something, and she strode through. She scanned the room and saw Kyle and a couple of older men parked on a ratty couch in front of the tube.