Who would have thought?

By Crimson Nova

Summary: An odd little polar fic.  PLZ R/R

Disclaimer: I own nothing Roswell, wish I did but that's life. 

Author's note: Ok, the story is one that's been playing with my mind all day.  Sorry if it's dumb or confusing. 

She was cleaning up that night and as he opened the door he could hear the music, one of his favorite songs Torn by Creed.

"Sorry, we're closed."  She said looking up and her eyes didn't exactly greet him but they weren't angry so she didn't know.  That was definitely a good thing. 

"Michael...um, I'm sorry, the kitchens closed."  Liz had felt an odd stirring at the opening of the door but now there was something in those dark eyes, something that drew at her still she knew he shouldn't be there, that he couldn't be. 

"That's all right. I just ate."  He told her shrugging looking around to be sure she was alone.  If there was something he didn't need it was her blonde buddy snooping or eaves dropping. 

"Um, you know, actually this is for employees only."  She stammered noticing his gaze sweeping the room. 

"Max told me what happened."  He said, and he knew he sounded grim, but he was here, with one of the hottest and most intriguing girls in town and eh had not real right to be. That irritated the hell out of him. 

"Oh...he did?""  Concern hit her, what would he do?  She didn't exactly fear Michael; there was just something in those dark eyes that was hard but to exactly brutal. Still he could do something…

"What did he say?"  She asked adjusting her grip on the mop as she stalled for time.  She had to think of something to tell him, what she'd  left it in Maria's car, under the emergence aroma therapy kit? 

"He said you wrote it all down, Liz."  There it was the shimmer of thought behind those brown eyes.  It was like a small kitten's, when it was hiding from something.

"He said that?"  She asked deciding to play it cool. 

He watched her shift her stance so she could lean the broom up against a nearby table.  Then she folded her arms over her chest, not in a protective gesture but more of a challenge.  

"What do you want?"  God, if he told her that she'd probably call the cops, call max or something like that.  Instead he thought of what he needed to take care of and said. 

"I want you to know; it wasn't smart to write all those things down, Liz." He said slowly beginning to pace around her, not in a circle but around in her general area.  

"Yeah...I know that now." Liz said and he nodded. 

"I knew it a week ago."  He said moving in closer, he liked how her brown eyes were still not frightened just a little wary, he wondered what she'd do if he just outright kissed her?

"Excuse me?"  She asked wondering why he was going around and around, was he an animal on the prowl?  Would he gobble her up?  God, what was she thinking?  She was supposed to be with Max, supposed to have feelings for him.  She did but in the last days she'd come to think it might have to do with his having saved her life.  Not that she'd not had a crush on him but there had always just been something wicked about Michael… 

"That was the night I sat at the first booth. Maybe you remember."  He said passing before her again and she did, she remembered, now as she could smell him, just as she had on that night… 

 "It was late like tonight and you were at the counter...writing." he said coming in even closer, not able to resist, he had to stand near her, to smell her vanilla scented hair. 

 "Homework?"  He'd asked, and she'd looked up to find him there, his dark eyes on her journal.  She hadn't known what to say so had tried to lie. 

"Uh, yeah...a little bit."  She'd then looked back at the book. 

"But it wasn't homework, was it?"  He asked and she was a little surprised to find him so close, so close she could almost touch him with out moving a muscle.  

"No," she managed.  "It wasn't."  Was he doing this on purpose?  What would he gain by it But then she felt his breath on her forehead and found herself looking up. 

"You could have put us in an awful spot," he said as her eyes met his grey ones. "Liz."  He said and his voice was low, husky, the scent of her so thick he felt as if he were drowning in it.  "Roswell's not exactly the town you want to be unique in, if you know what I mean." He said and he couldn't help but touch her cheek, feeling the softness, as if he was merely speaking lines in a play, not trying to warn her.  "You have to know who your friends are.

"I had to know the risk…"  His voice was so low, so deep and she shivered feeling as if he were speaking love words and not a chastisement.  God, she thought, those eyes, so deep, and not dark at all just deep…    "So I had to know what your journal said."

"You took it..." she breathed, knowing it was somehow important but now, with him there like that she couldn't remember why… 

I never meant for things to get out of control…"  he said and she felt as if he didn't just kiss her she'd die but no, he was still touching her cheek ashes lips nearly brushed hers with his next words.   "It's nice to know we have at least one friend in this town."

She felt something pressed into her hand and didn't care what it was but still some part of her mind told her what it was, her journal.  It was the cause of all of this and yet there, with Michael like that she didn't care.  Then his mouth was on hers and they sank to the floor, the outside world forgotten… 

Hitting save on the last words Elizabeth Guerin smiled to herself.  It was done. She glanced around the room as reality returned to her.  It was Saturday and Michael was out with the boys.  She'd gotten so wrapped up in the latest chapter of her book that she'd completely lost all track of time.  Well, what was to be expected?  She was a best selling author after all.  The irony was she wrote about things that had truly happened to she and her friends and yet they were always written off as fiction.  Who would believe that three aliens grew up in the tiny town of Roswell New Mexico? 

The end