For one, I never expected to be married to Isabel Evans (Isabel Whitman, I love the sound of it!) I never expected to have a two year old son. And I definitely didn’t expect to be on a foreign planet where my wife’s family has practically held us hostage. But what I expected even less was to be rejoicing because I was going back to Roswell.

Funny, how things change as you grow.

I’m looking out a porthole (of sorts) as the Earth grows nearer. Aaron is sitting on my lap, watching in awe. He understands much more than other children his age; I wonder if it’s an alien thing. Or maybe it’s just a result of two brilliant parents and six brilliant aunts and uncles.

I’ve been told that these people will be setting us up financially for life, a sort of guilty thank you for saving the planet. It’s nice to know, but I think I’ll get a job anyway. No reason to make people suspicious.

Mom and Dad aren’t there, I know. It’s strange to be going home without the knowledge that they’ll be there to meet me. Not that they would be, even if they were still alive. I miss them, but I agree with the others; we have to go on with our lives.

Isabel is holding my hand, tucked as close beside me as she can be. I love her so much it’s unreal, and now we will be free to pursue that love and see where it goes. There will be no boundaries here; none of the unbreakable kind, anyway. I will be free to love Isabel, and free to make all our old classmates who are still around wildly envious. I’m looking forward to that part. Isabel just clouted me in the shoulder. I should’ve known she was reading this instead of watching the scenery.

In just minutes, we will say our final good-byes. I don’t think any of us will regret it at all.

We belong here. We always have. We always will.

For the first time, I know, for a fact, that I belong somewhere. In Roswell, with Isabel in my arms, with my wonderful Aaron, and with the group, my best friends for life.