Title: Working Title
Author: Lavenderangel
Email:
Pixie_luver13@yahoo.com
Rating: PG for violence
Summary: Alternate Independence Day. What if Maria had noticed Michael's black eye instead of Max and Isabel?
Disclaimer: Some text is taken directly from the Roswell episode, Independence Day. This does not belong to me. Neither does anything else, for that matter.
Author's note: Okay, this takes place after sexual healing. M&M are together, as are Max and Liz. Just pretend that Sexual Healing was 115, and this is 116. The Apartment scenes in that ep took place… somewhere else O.o. Now, with that aside enjoy!
He stared down at his warn shoes as he walked down the hall of west Roswell high. His whole body ached from the beating he'd received the night before.
Hank had accused him of taking some of his beers again, and things had gotten especially bad. The only visible mark was a black eye, if no one looked under his shirt, that is.
"Hey Michael!" He cursed silently. Isabel.
Nodding briefly in her direction, he dashed into the nearest classroom.
Looking around, he realized that he was in the eraser room. Just great. Any minute some couple would come in here making out.
As though someone could read his thoughts, the door opened and a couple ran in. Michael bolted past them, careful to not let them get a close look at him.
Once he was a safe distance away from them, he scanned the hallway for anymore familiar faces.
There were none. But suddenly, he saw a flash of blonde hair. At that moment the person turned, confirming Michael's suspicions.
It was Maria.
This day was getting better and better. On any other day, Michael would've been happy to see her. But not today.
"Hey Spaceboy!" She'd seen him as well.
He could hide from Isabel. He could hide from Max and Liz. But he couldn't hide from Maria. A few weeks ago maybe, but like he'd feared he and Maria had gotten closer.
He turned slowly to face her, watching as she closed the distance between them.
"So we still on for—Michael!"
She'd seen his eye, and instantly became concerned.
\"What happened?" Her hand came up and her cool fingers gently touched the injured skin.
He winced visibly and stepped back slightly. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, removing her hand.
He looked at her for a moment, before leaning in and kissing her. Do to recent events, Michael and Maria, as well as Max and Liz could see flashes when they kissed. Liz saw glimpses of the crash and their home planet, whereas Michael and Maria saw glimpses from each other's pasts.
Maria had never experienced this before, so was extremely surprised when a series of images began playing out in front of her closed eyes.
Michael as a small child, being slapped across the face by Hank. Michael at the age of around nine, waking up from a nightmare and crying out in terror, only to have Hank come and hit him for waking him up. Michael, at age twelve, being slapped with a belt repeatedly. And Michael, at sixteen, being hit yet again.
Feelings accompanied the images, feelings of neglect, loneliness, fear, pain, and a heart wrenching sadness. Maria broke the kiss, feeling tears burning in her eyes.
"Michael," she whispered as tears began to fall. "Why didn't you tell me? Did you tell anyone?"
Michael stared blankly at her, then fear and shock came into his eyes. "Oh no. Maria, you didn't…." He broke off, fear obvious on his face.
Maria reached out and clasped his hand in hers, trying to give as well as receive comfort by doing this.
For a second she thought he would pull away, but thankfully he didn't. His hand squeezed hers and she squeezed back, relaxing as their eyes met.
"You can't tell anyone," Michael whispered urgently. "If Max and Isabel found out…"
Again he broke off, hoping that Maria knew and understood the words he hadn't spoke, with out him having to say them.
He saw the hesitation and concern clearly in her eyes, and his fear grew. Maria had kept the biggest secret so far in his life, could she keep this one? This one was almost as dangerous.
"All right," she said quietly, breaking there connected hands. "I won't tell."
He sighed in relief, and felt all his fear going completely away as she wrapped her arms around him.
He returned the embrace readily, their lips coming together seconds later. This time, no images showed for either, but their passion was as strong or perhaps greater than ever.
Michael somehow managed to get through school. It wasn't easy, though. He usually didn't stay the whole day, or sometimes didn't even come, but since he and Maria had started dating, he took every chance he could to see her.
Eventually, he'd had to face Max and Isabel. He'd made up some excuse about his black eye when he'd asked Max to heal it.
Finally the day was over, and after spending a few hours at the Crashdown, listening to Max go on and on about Liz and trying to act normal, he and Maria left to go to a movie
A while later, Michael and Maria were returning to the DeLuca's. "that movie was weird," Maria said as they stopped the car in her driveway.
"Yeah," Michael agreed, not knowing a thing about the movie having spent most of the two hours their kissing Maria or watching her when she wasn't looking.
"Well, I'd better go." Giving her one last passionate kiss, he left.
The trailer was a mess when he walked in. Hank was standing with a can of beer in his hand, looking very angry.
"Where ya been? Yeh were suppose teh make me dinner!"
"I was out," Michael responded coldly, hoping that the fear that he felt didn't show in his voice.
"Never talk to me like that!" His fist came up and smashed into Michael's face.
Once that first punch was thrown, it was pandemonium. Hank's fists hit him, boots kicked him, hands slapped him, fingers clawed wildly at him, and put Michael through probably the most pain of his life.
Michael had fallen sometime ago, and the kicking was still going on. He'd kept his lips firmly closed for the most part of this, but as Hank's foot came in contact with his stomach, he couldn't help but cry out.
Hank, satisfied that he'd punished Michael enough, moved towards the door. He passed out before he'd taken two steps, however.
Blood continued to flow from him, and he tried to move. He had to get out of here. His body ached, his face hurt, but he knew he had to move.
It wasn't safe here tonight. It was hardly ever safe here. Hank hated him, and had never cared what happened to him.
But he knew someone who cared. Someone who would understand. If he went to the Evans's, Max would help, but it wasn't the same. He was tired of always having to depend on Max for everything.
He pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he did so. This really hurt.
He could do this. He had to do this.
"Just… think… of… Maria…"
Maria sighed as she shoved her math homework into her backpack. She hated geometry.
The tap on her window was so abrupt she dropped her bag. Turning, she walked over and looked out.
Michael was standing there. He looked at her and she pulled open the window, slightly surprised to see him there.
"What are you doing—oh!" She grabbed her seeder oil and sniffed deeply in an effort to calm herself down.
Michael's face was battered. Dried blood was all over him, and he looked like he'd just been through a lot of pain.
He stood unmoving next to the window once he was inside, watching Maria. She turned back around, replacing her oil.
"Sit down."
He complied, sinking heavily onto her bed.
She knelt in front of him, sucking in her breath at the full effect of his face.
"Hank did this?" Her voice shook slightly, but she forced the tears back. She wouldn't be helping Michael any by crying over him.
"Yeah… he did." His voice was tight with pain, and a tear slid down Maria's cheek despite all her attempts to stop it.
"I'll be right back." Getting up, she raced into the bathroom and pulled out some wash cloths. Filling the sink with warm water, she let them soak while she got the first aid kit out.
Taking one of the cloths out, she hurried back to Michael.
"Most of the bad stuff will heal on it's own," Michael told her as she gently began to wipe the blood away. "It's just the bruises… and the smaller cuts…"
her finger touched his lips, and he fell silent. "Shh. Don't talk."
They sat in silence for a while, and soon Maria had done all she could for him.
"The rest will heal on its own," Michael repeated quietly, lying back on her bed.
Maria crawled up next to him, pulling the blankets over him.
"You need sleep," she told him softly.
Michael sat up and pulled off his shirt, and Maria sucked in her breath at the scars and bruises on his back.
She got up again as Michael got under the covers, and went and put the blood-soaked cloth back in the sink. When she returned, Michael was looking up at her glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.
She pulled up the covers and slid in beside him, carefully wrapping her arms around him as to not injure him anymore. He returned her embrace, breathing the sent of cedar oil and perfume that came with Maria.
He felt her hand in his hair and the other running along his back. He winced slightly as her gentle fingers touched a bruise at the back of his head.
"You know," she said suddenly, "I don't think sleeping is such a good idea anymore. I don't think it's much, but you might have a concussion."
He sat up along with her, leaning back against the headboard and sighing tiredly.
Her hand found his, and they squeezed the other's tightly. Soon their lips had come together in a passionate and much needed kiss.
Exhaustion was soon overpowering Michael, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Maria had fallen asleep sometime before, and it was torture for him not to join her.
To distract himself, he looked around at the pictures on Maria's walls.
There was a lot of her and Liz, her and Alex and of the three of them in general. He then saw one of her and Amy, from when Maria was a lot younger.
It was at the annual crash festival, which Roswell held every year. Maria looked about five, and was standing next to her mother, a big smile on her angelic features.
In a flash, Michael remembered a similar picture of the Evans's, and he guessed the Parker's and Whittman's had one's like it too. There was a look in the adult's eyes; a look that had never been directed towards him.
The look was love.
He knew of course, that Max and Isabel cared about him. They'd never told him this, but he knew. Not for the first time did he feel envy towards the Evans's. Why couldn't he have a family like that? A family who loved him? Didn't he deserve that?
A quiet whimper escaped his lips, and he forced himself to look away from the picture. He had to be strong. He was strong. He didn't need anyone's stupid love, he didn't need anything.
The hot tears filled his eyes, and he blinked them away. Stupid human emotions.
He curled up in a small ball, facing away from Maria. He forced himself not to touch her, not to hold her.
It made him feel even worse.
Maria awoke just as the son was rising. In a flash she remembered Michael, how he'd come to her last night. She turned over and saw his face, several bruises staring evilly back at her.
She was about to go back to sleep, when she noticed something else. Dried tears streaked his cheeks, and Maria couldn't help noticing how unsteady his breathing was.
She slid closer to him, pulling his body into her arms once again. He stirred at her touch, and she hurried to quiet him.
His eyes began to open slowly, and she put a finger to his lips. "Shh, go back to sleep."
His body relaxed as her hands moved gently over his sore back, and soon both were asleep again.
Michael's eyes opened again sometime later. Maria was looking at him, an unrecognizable look in her green eyes.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," he hoped she hadn't known he'd been crying.
"My Mom's gonna be up soon so…."
"Right," he rose slowly, wincing.
"Go downstairs and I'll say you came for breakfast."
He stared at her for a second, and then a rare smile crossed his face.
Amy DeLuca woke early on Saturday morning to the sound of her daughter's laughter. Heading to the top of the stairs, she listened more closely.
"You're not serious!"
"I don't see what's wrong with it."
"It's disgusting!"
"I let you make bacon…"
"You didn't have a choice! Now I am not letting you put Tabasco in the pancake batter!"
Smiling, Amy put on her bathrobe and headed downstairs.
She found Maria, still in her pajamas, and Michael Guerin. They were making pancake batter while bacon was frying on the stove and a large pan of hashbrown was cooling next to it.
"What do we have here?"
As Maria turned, Amy saw Michael sneak some Tabasco into the batter.
"Oh hi, Mom! Spaceboy and I are just making breakfast."
"There's my favorite wrestler." Amy patted Michael's shoulder, and turned to take a hashbrown, missing Michael's wince.
Sometime later, Maria's playful shriek carried through the kitchen.
"Michael! What'd I tell you about the Tabasco?!"
The enjoyable morning almost made Michael forget about Hank. Almost. He finally had to leave the DeLuca's, promising to meet her at the Crashdown later.
Walking into the trailer later, he'd expected to be alone. Hank usually left for work very early, and definitely before 11AM.
He hadn't expected to find him lying on the trailer floor, blood everywhere.
His revolver lay beside him, coated with blood. Michael ran to him, already knowing it was too late.
Blood was still flowing from him, no longer warm. It dripped onto Michael's hands as he touched his shoulder lightly. He saw a rag near by too, and Michael guessed that Hank had been cleaning his gun and it had accidentally gone off in the process.
For a minute he was frozen, unsure what to do.
He continued to stare at the red carpet, at Hank's surprised expression, at the messy trailer he'd called a hoe for so long, and at the excuse he'd had for a father, now dead on the floor in front of him.
Bile rose in his throat, and the wonderful breakfast he'd enjoyed earlier that morning with Maria was soon on the floor as well. It mixed with Hank's still flowing blood, making Michael heave even more.
Finally, he just ran.
Author: Lavenderangel
Email:
Pixie_luver13@yahoo.com
Rating: PG for violence
Summary: Alternate Independence Day. What if Maria had noticed Michael's black eye instead of Max and Isabel?
Disclaimer: Some text is taken directly from the Roswell episode, Independence Day. This does not belong to me. Neither does anything else, for that matter.
Author's note: Okay, this takes place after sexual healing. M&M are together, as are Max and Liz. Just pretend that Sexual Healing was 115, and this is 116. The Apartment scenes in that ep took place… somewhere else O.o. Now, with that aside enjoy!
He stared down at his warn shoes as he walked down the hall of west Roswell high. His whole body ached from the beating he'd received the night before.
Hank had accused him of taking some of his beers again, and things had gotten especially bad. The only visible mark was a black eye, if no one looked under his shirt, that is.
"Hey Michael!" He cursed silently. Isabel.
Nodding briefly in her direction, he dashed into the nearest classroom.
Looking around, he realized that he was in the eraser room. Just great. Any minute some couple would come in here making out.
As though someone could read his thoughts, the door opened and a couple ran in. Michael bolted past them, careful to not let them get a close look at him.
Once he was a safe distance away from them, he scanned the hallway for anymore familiar faces.
There were none. But suddenly, he saw a flash of blonde hair. At that moment the person turned, confirming Michael's suspicions.
It was Maria.
This day was getting better and better. On any other day, Michael would've been happy to see her. But not today.
"Hey Spaceboy!" She'd seen him as well.
He could hide from Isabel. He could hide from Max and Liz. But he couldn't hide from Maria. A few weeks ago maybe, but like he'd feared he and Maria had gotten closer.
He turned slowly to face her, watching as she closed the distance between them.
"So we still on for—Michael!"
She'd seen his eye, and instantly became concerned.
\"What happened?" Her hand came up and her cool fingers gently touched the injured skin.
He winced visibly and stepped back slightly. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, removing her hand.
He looked at her for a moment, before leaning in and kissing her. Do to recent events, Michael and Maria, as well as Max and Liz could see flashes when they kissed. Liz saw glimpses of the crash and their home planet, whereas Michael and Maria saw glimpses from each other's pasts.
Maria had never experienced this before, so was extremely surprised when a series of images began playing out in front of her closed eyes.
Michael as a small child, being slapped across the face by Hank. Michael at the age of around nine, waking up from a nightmare and crying out in terror, only to have Hank come and hit him for waking him up. Michael, at age twelve, being slapped with a belt repeatedly. And Michael, at sixteen, being hit yet again.
Feelings accompanied the images, feelings of neglect, loneliness, fear, pain, and a heart wrenching sadness. Maria broke the kiss, feeling tears burning in her eyes.
"Michael," she whispered as tears began to fall. "Why didn't you tell me? Did you tell anyone?"
Michael stared blankly at her, then fear and shock came into his eyes. "Oh no. Maria, you didn't…." He broke off, fear obvious on his face.
Maria reached out and clasped his hand in hers, trying to give as well as receive comfort by doing this.
For a second she thought he would pull away, but thankfully he didn't. His hand squeezed hers and she squeezed back, relaxing as their eyes met.
"You can't tell anyone," Michael whispered urgently. "If Max and Isabel found out…"
Again he broke off, hoping that Maria knew and understood the words he hadn't spoke, with out him having to say them.
He saw the hesitation and concern clearly in her eyes, and his fear grew. Maria had kept the biggest secret so far in his life, could she keep this one? This one was almost as dangerous.
"All right," she said quietly, breaking there connected hands. "I won't tell."
He sighed in relief, and felt all his fear going completely away as she wrapped her arms around him.
He returned the embrace readily, their lips coming together seconds later. This time, no images showed for either, but their passion was as strong or perhaps greater than ever.
Michael somehow managed to get through school. It wasn't easy, though. He usually didn't stay the whole day, or sometimes didn't even come, but since he and Maria had started dating, he took every chance he could to see her.
Eventually, he'd had to face Max and Isabel. He'd made up some excuse about his black eye when he'd asked Max to heal it.
Finally the day was over, and after spending a few hours at the Crashdown, listening to Max go on and on about Liz and trying to act normal, he and Maria left to go to a movie
A while later, Michael and Maria were returning to the DeLuca's. "that movie was weird," Maria said as they stopped the car in her driveway.
"Yeah," Michael agreed, not knowing a thing about the movie having spent most of the two hours their kissing Maria or watching her when she wasn't looking.
"Well, I'd better go." Giving her one last passionate kiss, he left.
The trailer was a mess when he walked in. Hank was standing with a can of beer in his hand, looking very angry.
"Where ya been? Yeh were suppose teh make me dinner!"
"I was out," Michael responded coldly, hoping that the fear that he felt didn't show in his voice.
"Never talk to me like that!" His fist came up and smashed into Michael's face.
Once that first punch was thrown, it was pandemonium. Hank's fists hit him, boots kicked him, hands slapped him, fingers clawed wildly at him, and put Michael through probably the most pain of his life.
Michael had fallen sometime ago, and the kicking was still going on. He'd kept his lips firmly closed for the most part of this, but as Hank's foot came in contact with his stomach, he couldn't help but cry out.
Hank, satisfied that he'd punished Michael enough, moved towards the door. He passed out before he'd taken two steps, however.
Blood continued to flow from him, and he tried to move. He had to get out of here. His body ached, his face hurt, but he knew he had to move.
It wasn't safe here tonight. It was hardly ever safe here. Hank hated him, and had never cared what happened to him.
But he knew someone who cared. Someone who would understand. If he went to the Evans's, Max would help, but it wasn't the same. He was tired of always having to depend on Max for everything.
He pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he did so. This really hurt.
He could do this. He had to do this.
"Just… think… of… Maria…"
Maria sighed as she shoved her math homework into her backpack. She hated geometry.
The tap on her window was so abrupt she dropped her bag. Turning, she walked over and looked out.
Michael was standing there. He looked at her and she pulled open the window, slightly surprised to see him there.
"What are you doing—oh!" She grabbed her seeder oil and sniffed deeply in an effort to calm herself down.
Michael's face was battered. Dried blood was all over him, and he looked like he'd just been through a lot of pain.
He stood unmoving next to the window once he was inside, watching Maria. She turned back around, replacing her oil.
"Sit down."
He complied, sinking heavily onto her bed.
She knelt in front of him, sucking in her breath at the full effect of his face.
"Hank did this?" Her voice shook slightly, but she forced the tears back. She wouldn't be helping Michael any by crying over him.
"Yeah… he did." His voice was tight with pain, and a tear slid down Maria's cheek despite all her attempts to stop it.
"I'll be right back." Getting up, she raced into the bathroom and pulled out some wash cloths. Filling the sink with warm water, she let them soak while she got the first aid kit out.
Taking one of the cloths out, she hurried back to Michael.
"Most of the bad stuff will heal on it's own," Michael told her as she gently began to wipe the blood away. "It's just the bruises… and the smaller cuts…"
her finger touched his lips, and he fell silent. "Shh. Don't talk."
They sat in silence for a while, and soon Maria had done all she could for him.
"The rest will heal on its own," Michael repeated quietly, lying back on her bed.
Maria crawled up next to him, pulling the blankets over him.
"You need sleep," she told him softly.
Michael sat up and pulled off his shirt, and Maria sucked in her breath at the scars and bruises on his back.
She got up again as Michael got under the covers, and went and put the blood-soaked cloth back in the sink. When she returned, Michael was looking up at her glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.
She pulled up the covers and slid in beside him, carefully wrapping her arms around him as to not injure him anymore. He returned her embrace, breathing the sent of cedar oil and perfume that came with Maria.
He felt her hand in his hair and the other running along his back. He winced slightly as her gentle fingers touched a bruise at the back of his head.
"You know," she said suddenly, "I don't think sleeping is such a good idea anymore. I don't think it's much, but you might have a concussion."
He sat up along with her, leaning back against the headboard and sighing tiredly.
Her hand found his, and they squeezed the other's tightly. Soon their lips had come together in a passionate and much needed kiss.
Exhaustion was soon overpowering Michael, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Maria had fallen asleep sometime before, and it was torture for him not to join her.
To distract himself, he looked around at the pictures on Maria's walls.
There was a lot of her and Liz, her and Alex and of the three of them in general. He then saw one of her and Amy, from when Maria was a lot younger.
It was at the annual crash festival, which Roswell held every year. Maria looked about five, and was standing next to her mother, a big smile on her angelic features.
In a flash, Michael remembered a similar picture of the Evans's, and he guessed the Parker's and Whittman's had one's like it too. There was a look in the adult's eyes; a look that had never been directed towards him.
The look was love.
He knew of course, that Max and Isabel cared about him. They'd never told him this, but he knew. Not for the first time did he feel envy towards the Evans's. Why couldn't he have a family like that? A family who loved him? Didn't he deserve that?
A quiet whimper escaped his lips, and he forced himself to look away from the picture. He had to be strong. He was strong. He didn't need anyone's stupid love, he didn't need anything.
The hot tears filled his eyes, and he blinked them away. Stupid human emotions.
He curled up in a small ball, facing away from Maria. He forced himself not to touch her, not to hold her.
It made him feel even worse.
Maria awoke just as the son was rising. In a flash she remembered Michael, how he'd come to her last night. She turned over and saw his face, several bruises staring evilly back at her.
She was about to go back to sleep, when she noticed something else. Dried tears streaked his cheeks, and Maria couldn't help noticing how unsteady his breathing was.
She slid closer to him, pulling his body into her arms once again. He stirred at her touch, and she hurried to quiet him.
His eyes began to open slowly, and she put a finger to his lips. "Shh, go back to sleep."
His body relaxed as her hands moved gently over his sore back, and soon both were asleep again.
Michael's eyes opened again sometime later. Maria was looking at him, an unrecognizable look in her green eyes.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," he hoped she hadn't known he'd been crying.
"My Mom's gonna be up soon so…."
"Right," he rose slowly, wincing.
"Go downstairs and I'll say you came for breakfast."
He stared at her for a second, and then a rare smile crossed his face.
Amy DeLuca woke early on Saturday morning to the sound of her daughter's laughter. Heading to the top of the stairs, she listened more closely.
"You're not serious!"
"I don't see what's wrong with it."
"It's disgusting!"
"I let you make bacon…"
"You didn't have a choice! Now I am not letting you put Tabasco in the pancake batter!"
Smiling, Amy put on her bathrobe and headed downstairs.
She found Maria, still in her pajamas, and Michael Guerin. They were making pancake batter while bacon was frying on the stove and a large pan of hashbrown was cooling next to it.
"What do we have here?"
As Maria turned, Amy saw Michael sneak some Tabasco into the batter.
"Oh hi, Mom! Spaceboy and I are just making breakfast."
"There's my favorite wrestler." Amy patted Michael's shoulder, and turned to take a hashbrown, missing Michael's wince.
Sometime later, Maria's playful shriek carried through the kitchen.
"Michael! What'd I tell you about the Tabasco?!"
The enjoyable morning almost made Michael forget about Hank. Almost. He finally had to leave the DeLuca's, promising to meet her at the Crashdown later.
Walking into the trailer later, he'd expected to be alone. Hank usually left for work very early, and definitely before 11AM.
He hadn't expected to find him lying on the trailer floor, blood everywhere.
His revolver lay beside him, coated with blood. Michael ran to him, already knowing it was too late.
Blood was still flowing from him, no longer warm. It dripped onto Michael's hands as he touched his shoulder lightly. He saw a rag near by too, and Michael guessed that Hank had been cleaning his gun and it had accidentally gone off in the process.
For a minute he was frozen, unsure what to do.
He continued to stare at the red carpet, at Hank's surprised expression, at the messy trailer he'd called a hoe for so long, and at the excuse he'd had for a father, now dead on the floor in front of him.
Bile rose in his throat, and the wonderful breakfast he'd enjoyed earlier that morning with Maria was soon on the floor as well. It mixed with Hank's still flowing blood, making Michael heave even more.
Finally, he just ran.