I think we're at the front of Maria's house. Maria has a house? She walks across the front lawn to find Michael Michael sitting atop his motorcycle motorcycle. Gee, she thought he'd be gone by now. He bares his soul: "I wanted to say that this whole thing has been screwed up since the beginning. The whole stupid story." Once again, another character nails just what kind of story this has been all along. But Maria takes it personally, even though it isn't entirely her fault. But Michael isn't done, telling her, "I wouldn't trade it for anything. From day one, the moment that I kidnapped you and stole your car." Yes. I wouldn't trade it for anything either. Except for maybe being able to watch The West Wing during its first season, or Smallville this year. Or Undeclared ever. Or maintain a sense of integrity in the whole television-watching process, which I used to feel until one dark hour in October of 1999 came along and changed my sensibilities forever. Okay. I guess I'd trade it for something. I'd trade it for a small stack of pennies. But Michael wouldn't. And he's still talking! "Wherever I'm going, whatever I'm doing, I'll always love you." He rides off into the distant sunset, hopefully out of the jurisdiction of the government branch with a thirst for alien blood. I'd also trade it for cheese.

Liz's balcony. She lights candles for the purpose of meaningful coitus, but Max is preoccupied. He speaks of Mrs. Mills without knowing her name, admitting to Liz, "We saved that woman's life. I have a weird feeling about it. I've just been feeling like I have no path." How does that have anything to do with the nice twin set-clad Mrs. Mills with the two kids and an implied minivan? He muses, "Maybe that's why I've been put here. To help people." She clarifies it with a reference that will make the whole demographic go, "Oh, like that," when she says, "Like Tom Joad in The Grapes of Wrath." Right. Was that on the SAT too? He says he can only be a superhero if she's his Lois Lane, and she doesn't miss a beat (with the exception of the nine hours of paced musing): "I would do anything if it means being with you." Max opens an outdoor grill that I guess has just been sitting there for three years (please just light it and let me stick my head in already), taking out a piece of charcoal and saying, "It's a trick I learned from Superman. Let's see if it really works." He holds it real tight for a moment, and when he opens his hand, it's a diamond ring. He gets on one knee and begs, "Liz, they're taking our home from us. They want to kill us. But when I look in your eyes, I don't feel angry or deprived. I feel like the luckiest half-human on the planet." Or more like the character of "me" in Ayn Rand's Audience Shrugged. Right. SAT. Max wants to be with her forever, even if forever "is only twelve days. We'll live twelve lifetimes." Actually, the correct mathematical conversion is one lifetime = one episode. Looks like someone wasn't boning up quite as much for the math section as for the English. Max asks Liz to marry him. Liz says yes. Max sets the date: "After graduation." If that doesn't translate to "I'll marry you over my dead body," people, I don't know what does.