Michael lay slumped on the cold, desert floor, uncaring of the damage it was doing to his suit. His weathered body aching from the strain of running, something that reminded him of just how old he was.
The funeral was long over, and all the guests had long since moved on to the wake. But he hadn't been able to stand all the memories, memories of the woman he had lost and of their life together. Of all the good times and of course the bad, the births of their children and grandchildren, celebrating each New Year they had survived together.
He didn't want to deal with their friends, trying to comfort him, and tell him that everything was going to be okay and that his life would go on without her, but he knew it wouldn't. She was his life.
Raindrops splashed against his lined face, mingling with his tears, but he didn't bother to brush them away.
"Why?" he choked out. "Why did she have to die? I was supposed to die first, not her. I was the screw up. I was the one who did everything wrong. I want her back. Bring her back," he screamed towards the heavens. Weak, he dropped back to the ground, his body racked with sobs. "Please bring my Liz back," he whispered brokenly.
His sobs eventually eased and he found himself being dragged into the past, to a day sixty years ago. A day much like this one….
~~~~~~~~~~
He had been huddled in this exact same spot, fallen where his aching legs had collapsed beneath him. His body was curled into a foetal position, silent tears making tracks down his cheeks.
He heard the car approaching him, but he couldn't make himself move. He didn't have the energy to run anymore.
"Michael?" The sweet voice that haunted his sleep called to him.
"I killed him, Liz, I killed him. I thought he was trying to hurt us, but he wasn't and I killed him. I killed an innocent man."
Warm arms wrapped around his shaking body. "Shh, Michael. It's okay. It's going to be okay. I'll look after you," she whispered as she curled her body around his, giving him her warmth and strength as she stroked his hair soothingly. He lost track of how long they lay there like that as she comforted him.
Slowly her hands withdrew and he heard her stand up. He whimpered softly at the loss of contact and her hand was immediately back, stroking his shoulder. "It's okay, Michael. I'm right here; I'm not going to leave you. But I think you should get up now. The cold isn't good for you."
"No, I'm not going back. I can't go back," he said, the panic in his voice evident.
"We don't have to go back yet, if you don't want. But let's at least find somewhere warm. There's a motel just down the road, we can go there." At his nod, she helped him stand and led him to her car, holding his hand securely in hers.
The car ride was silent as Michael sat staring at his hand enclosed in Liz's, their fingers interlocked. He marvelled at how such a small hand could provide such warmth and comfort.
Once at the motel, Liz quickly rented a room and then led him to it, never letting go of his hand, making sure that he knew someone was there for him.
He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her kindness. He had to show her that he wasn't good enough, that he was a murderer and she should be afraid of him.
"Stop it, Liz." He hoped his voice came out stronger than it sounded to his ears. "Just stop it. Stop taking care of me, stop holding my hand. Leave. Me. Alone. I'm a monster, a murderer, I'm dangerous and you shouldn't be around me. You should be scared of me. Just go back to your perfect little life and leave me alone." He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable sound of her shoes echoing in the hallway as she walked away from him, but it didn't come.
"It won't work, Michael," she said quietly. "You can't push me away." With a gentle tug on his hand, she pulled him into the motel room and over to the bed. She turned down the blankets and waited for him to climb in, but he remained where he was, staring blindly into space.
"Come on, you need to sleep. You must rest," she prodded him, but he seemed fixed to his position, unable or unwilling to move.
With a sigh, she sank to her knees and unlaced his boots, tugging them and his socks off. Her hands rose to the waistband of his pants and undid the snap. Tugging down his zipper, she was reassured to hear his sharp intake of breath. It meant that he was still here with her; he hadn't retreated behind his walls.
Once she'd removed his pants, she gently pushed him down onto the bed, pulling the blankets around him and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
She turned away from him, wanting nothing more than to sink into an armchair and fall asleep, but something stopped her.
"Please don't go." Liz wasn't sure if she'd heard it or if it was just her imagination, it was that quiet.
"Please don't leave me," a voice choked with sobs called to her. Kicking off her shoes and pants, she crawled under the covers on the bed, curling her body around Michael's shaking form. She cradled him to her, murmuring soothing words into his ear, gently stroking his hair as he cried.
He cried for the innocent man he'd killed. He cried for the man's family, a family who had lost a father, a brother, a son. And most of all he cried for himself. Cried for his screwed up life, and all the people he had hurt. He cried until he had run out of tears, until he was too exhausted to even think, and only then did he let himself drift into unconsciousness.
~~~~~~~~~~
Liz awoke many hours later. During the night their positions had changed, Michael's form now curled against Liz's back, one arm wrapped securely around her middle, pinning her to him and his other hand …. Liz's eyes flew open. One of his large hands was cupping her breast beneath the t-shirt she wore, gently fondling it. She felt herself becoming aroused and knew it was wrong.
He was craving comfort and a connection with someone and so had reached out to her as the nearest person, and yet she knew she would not stop him. She wanted and needed this as much as he did, even if she knew he would never be able to love her.
She gasped as his other hand slid inside her panties, stroking her already wet folds. Moaning she bucked towards his exploring fingers, trying to increase the pressure. He pressed her body back against his, pressing his erection against the curve of her buttocks.
His fingers inched her panties down and she wriggled out of them. His large hand curled around her thigh and lifted it over his legs, so he was just pressing against her entrance.
With one strong thrust he buried himself inside of her. Liz winced, her body going suddenly still and he realised what he'd just done. He'd screwed up once again, but this time in the worst way possible. He had taken her virginity, something he had never imagined to be possible. He started to withdraw from her, but her hand shot out, holding him to her. She pressed her hips back, pushing him deeper.
With a soft groan he started a slow rhythm, speeding up as she moved in time with his thrusts. His hand tightened almost painfully on her hip as her muscles began to clench around him as she came. With one last deep thrust he came, groaning, "I love you, Liz," against her ear.
Liz's entire body froze, but he didn't seem to notice as he withdrew from her, cradling her body to his as he drifted off to sleep.
Liz lay awake for a long time afterwards, his words repeating endlessly in her mind. She wished that she could believe his words, yet she knew she couldn't. He didn't really love her; it was just the stress of the day and the heat of the moment. With a sigh she drifted into a restless sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
When Michael woke it was morning, and the sun was peeking around the edges of the blinds. He blindly stretched a hand out for the warm body he knew would be there, but came up empty. His eyes flew open and he scanned the room, but she was nowhere to be seen.
He'd frightened her away with how he'd acted the previous night, and he wasn't surprised that she had run from him in the cold light of day.
Climbing out of bed, he scooped up his clothes. He had to leave. He had to get as far away from the past as possible, to try and erase his memory of everything that had happened.
He was pulling on his boots when the door swung open and sunlight spilled into the room. Liz froze just inside the door, breakfast in her hands, as she saw what he was doing. "Where are you going, Michael?"
"I have to leave. I'm a danger to everyone who gets close to me."
With a sigh she said, "I won't stop you. But please answer me something first." When he didn't answer she continued, "Did you mean what you said last night?"
He glanced up at her. He was tempted to lie, but the pleading look in her eyes stopped him. "Yes," he mumbled.
"What?" Liz was sure she hadn't heard him right.
"I meant it," he said, refusing to meet her eye, "I love you so much, but I have to leave. I can't endanger your life as well as everyone else's." He turned to walk out the door, but her hand on his arm stopped him.
"I'm not going to stop you from leaving, but if you do, I'm coming with you."
"Liz, you can't. What about your family? Your dreams?"
"I don't care. I love you too much and my dreams don't seem important if you aren't with me."
"You l-love me?"
"Yes!" She threw her arms around his neck. "I love you."
~~~~~~~~~~
Out of a moment of such sadness and pain, a love was discovered. A love that had lasted from that day to the day of Liz's death, sixty years later. Death being the only thing that could tear them away from each other's side.
A smile touched Michael's age-worn face as he relived the day that his life had truly begun.
Michael's eyes slowly slid shut and he knew this was the end. And yet he wasn't as scared as he'd always thought he'd be, for Liz had owned his heart and soul and when she had passed on, she had taken those parts of him with her, so now there was so reason left to live. He welcomed the darkness that slowly enfolded him, for it brought him one step closer to once again being in Liz's arms, but this time forever.
The End.