ANGER AND BRUISES

His anger helped him a lot. But he hated it. And hating leads to rage - a whole lot more powerful than anger. So when Tess told him to concentrate hard on the rock in front of him, told him to use his power to break it, he used his anger. He thought of Hank.

"Concentrate harder." Tess said from behind him, obviously expecting that the rock should be by now shattered into tiny little pieces.

Michael cursed and then thought of his sorry life here in Roswell, New Mexico.

The rock sat so still in front of him and it mocked him. So he thought of the mocking rock and stretched his arms, the palm of his hand facing the wall, ready to blast the goddamn piece of earth that Tess had picked up from the dessert.

"Harder Michael."

And for someone reason Michael thought of himself kissing Maria DeLuca. Hard on the lips and she would pull him tighter, and he knew that he could bruise her so easily. And he grew so angry at himself.

The rock exploded, like it had a hundred grenades all rigged inside of it that in a mere second, a surprised breath echoing from Michael's lips, all that was left of it was dust. Tess had to cough from the sudden haze of smoke that filled Michael's apartment.

"Good one." Tess said, sounding pleased with herself. "Now try this one." Tess said, placing a larger piece of rock on the already battered table.

"Let's take a break." Michael said walking away. He turned towards the ref and got himself a bottle of water. He drank hungrily from it, trying to swallow the hard beating of his heart. It was so ridiculous that his heart would start pounding whenever he thought of Maria. And how she would love to know this fact. She would probably smile at him and her green eyes would get darker and she would tease him by leaning forward, pausing long enough to give him a chance to stare down at her cherry painted lips and then she would kiss the corner of his mouth. And that in turn would make him angry at her and he would grab her, harshly, so that she would never notice how his hand would shake at the contact and he would kiss her. Hard.

"Michael?"

He cursed again and turned away, pretending to put the bottle back inside the ref, he let the coldness wash through him. He shouldn't feel so warm, he shouldn't feel anything at all! "Yeah?"

"You ok?" And the tone it held has the hint of amusement always present in everyone's voice whenever they talked to him and knew that his emotions were bothering him. It was as if they found the thought of him trying to struggle with his "emotions" was so goddamn funny. Funny, but not in the "ha-ha-ha" way. He hated this tone, among others, actually, he hated everything that has something to do with conversation and words. Words are just letters strewn together, it held so little truth or merit to him.

Except when these words are heavily coated with Maria's voice. And then everything would be different.

"Fine." He said curtly. He walked past Tess again, not meeting her eyes. He didn't trust her that much yet but since she was teaching him to gain control of his cursed alien powers, he didn't want her to see it in his eyes - the anger. The hatred and the envy. Oh and yeah, maybe, if he finds it in himself to dig deep enough, maybe even gratefulness. He sighed and turned to face her. "Let's try it again." He said, trying to convey as much gratefulness in his voice as he could muster.

He could be grateful to Tess, he should. He really should. She was the one who showed them where the pods were, she was there when they got the message from Max's and Isabel's "holo-mom" that day on the cave, she gave them a lot of answers to their questions. She was part of their destiny.

He clenched his jaws at the thought of Destiny.

"No, we should be on our way." Tess said, grabbing her jacket. "Max said we should meet at the Crashdown by eleven." She pointed at the clock on Michael's wall. It read 11:15.

Michael nodded silently and headed straight for the door. What King Max had planned didn't matter to him anymore. As far as he was concerned, Max can play king all he want. He just better be sure that when the time comes, when death is breathing down on their backs, Max would be the King to save their alien ass. For a second he was tempted to say no, to let Max wait it out in front of the closed Crashdown. It was so obvious that the alien king had been there, probably sitting at his old booth, thinking of Liz Parker. Or pestering Maria with any information about his ex-girlfriend.

He bit his lips, trying to erase the picture of Max hovering beside Maria, touching her arms, using his brown puppy-eyed look to know whether Liz was asking about him, or if she ever mention him at all. Max was always at the Crashdown lately. And so was he. It was inevitable. He worked there. Burning in the heat of the oven, drowning himself in the endless chatter and clutter of the cafe, cooking, soaking on the smell of oil and grease. And bleeding. Watching Maria as she saunter in and out of the Crashdown. Trying his best not to look in her eyes, or if by chance he did meet her green orbs, he'd be sure to have something cruel to say. Cruelty makes her green eyes burn. He had thought that flames would be better suited if they were colored green and not the wild combination of blue, red, yellow and orange. Somehow, these colored seemed so dull, in contrast to the greenness of Maria DeLuca's eyes.

He didn't have any jacket to put on. But that's ok. If he wanted to keep warm, all he had to do was think of Maria. He cursed himself again and the light bulb hanging by the door suddenly exploded.

"Good one. But try not to do it in public places." Tess said, sounding so much like Max Evans. Patronizing. Always with an air of superiority. There, there, Mickey boy, I would help you. I'll get you out of trouble.

"Yeah. Keep that in mind." He said, biting down the urge to tell her that he hadn't mean to, that it was just his anger, that he was so mad at himself for being Michael Guerin, for being an alien and a human at the same time, for having a Destiny to fulfill, for turning his back on Maria, for a lot of things actually, but he remained quiet instead. No sense in letting Tess see how weak and pathetic he was. She already knew that he couldn't even so much as control his power, why give her another reason to feel sorry for him.

They walked together in silence. Tess had her hands inside her pocket and Michael briefly wondered how it was that on some days it felt like Roswell was burning straight from hell and then at night the cold would bit down on their skin. Fucked-up town, Michael thought decisively. He listened to the sound of his shoes scraping the road, to the empty clacking sound Tess' boots made every time her hills hit the black asphalt.

He didn't know why Max had called for a meeting. He wasn't even aware of it until Tess told him. The fearless leader, King of Antar, making decision without so much as informing him - his second in command, his best friend. It feels so great to be trusted and needed he thought sarcastically. Michael clenched his jaws and shoved his pocket deeper into his jeans. Where was the anger now? The anger that was supposed to help him blow up things? He stared at the innocent lamp post and it remained still. He snorted at his inability to blow up one stupid lamp post.

Max would be pissed. He didn't tolerate people being late, he would preach that late people showed no respect for others. The great King would say that being late showed how irresponsible a person is. And then Tess would explain that it was because she was busy teaching Michael how to control his power. And Max would find it in his heart to forgive Michael. He would then ask him how his "exploding rocks" had progressed.

Michael bit his lips and then the insides of his cheeks. Rage. He needed it. Or else he would be forced to feel other emotions that he simply could never allow himself to feel. Like maybe pity, or guilt.

He heard someone giggling. He knew who it was. There was only one person who could laugh like that and make him feel so wretched and so ridiculously happy at the same time.

Maria.

Like maybe love too.

They turned at the corner and he saw Max Evans standing beside Maria DeLuca in front of the closed Crashdown. He felt the burning rage intensify that he had to stop for a while to fully drink in and comprehend the scene presented right in front of him. Tess had stopped abruptly too.

Maria smiled up at Max and sucker-punched him in the arm. Max feigned hurt. Maria giggled again and began tossing her keys on the air, catching them and tossing it again. She was nervous. Max watched her for a while. And Michael felt as though Max was taking something away from him - looking at Maria like that, that near, for that long. Max caught the keys in mid air. Maria stopped, perplexed and looked at the great king questioningly. Max handed her the keys again and then touched her shoulder. Maria smiled up at him. Brightly, gratefully.

Something inside Michael, some important internal human organ stopped and suddenly, he couldn't breath.

"'C'mmon." Tess said. It was a command and Michael wanted to turn and glare at her but he couldn't quite take his eyes off Max and Maria. Did Max arranged this meeting? Did Max think that he could try and patch things up between him and Maria? Did Maria asked for this?

Did he want this?

He refused to answer that question. "Yeah." He said his voice rough enough to actually cut skin and make it bleed. He shove his hands inside his pocket and straightened his back. He walked briskly, without any sound coming off from his dirty well worn shoes. He reached Max and Maria but he didn't look at her. He kept his gaze straight at Max and blatantly ignored the girl beside him. He could feel her. And he sensed the slight shiver that passed through her body. He could also smell her and he marveled that she could still smell like spring, flowers and freshly cut grass, even though she had spent all of the afternoon inside the smoky kitchen of the Crashdown. She must be tired now. And he felt anger coursing through him once again.

"What's up Maxwell?" He asked coldly. "Where's Isabel?"

He couldn't resist the urge not to look at her. He cursed himself for this weakness but knew that he was never going to cure himself of it, so he stole a lightning fast glance at her direction, and inside he howled in pain when he saw the hurt and anger that flickered in her green eyes when he mentioned Isabel's name. He returned his attention at Max and he could see how irritated Max was with his behavior. What? Suddenly Max had become Maria's defender? Liz had gone off to Florida and Max had replaced her to become Maria's official "girl friend?" He gritted his teeth with the thought.

Max opened his mouth but it was Maria's voice that he heard.

"I'll head home Max. It's late. I...I...thanks anyway..."

And she bolted away from them. Her steps were light and didn't make any noise like Tess' shoes. Now that he wouldn't be forced to look into her eyes, Michael was able to stare at her retreating form. She hurried to her car, parked just a foot away from them. She had longer hair now. There were wisps of it standing in all direction. When she stood still to open the car door, he could see the dark bags that formed below her eyes. She got in, started the engine and sped away into the night. She looked beautiful.

She'd always look beautiful to him.





Well that went well. Maria chided herself. She didn't even had one nasty remark to show Spaceboy that she could be insensitive too, that she could play his game. She was tired. It had been a long night at the Crashdown. And she just wanted to go home and curl on her bed and find solace in her sleep. But no, Max had to come up with a bright idea that she should stay for a while, he can get Michael to come and they can try to work it out. She knew it was a bad idea from the very start. Michael resented manipulation. If he wanted to talk to her, he could do it on his own time, on his own way. But Max had insisted. He insisted and because she was desperate she agreed.

Hadn't she told Max that she didn't think it was a good idea to let Michael come to the Crashdown on the pretext of an important alien meeting? Hadn't she convinced herself just last night that if Michael didn't care for her anymore it was his lost and not hers?

But she felt she knew that Michael did care for her. That even if they had spent most of their time arguing and the other half kissing, the whole time they were together meant something for Michael.

At least she thought so.

But standing there, with Michael not even looking at her, not even acknowledging her presence, like she wasn't there at all... like she was just a ghost, a shadow, a faded memory that just wouldn't go.... whatever. She shouldn't be trying to soothe her pain with metaphors that do not only fit her, but also sound cheesy and ridiculous. God, she should be writing this into a paper, what a dreamy pop song this would make. Girls are just gonna eat these all up.

Maria scowled at herself in the mirror. You've gone too low DeLuca, too fucking low and what for? So that Guerin can treat you like trash. So that he can make you feel like the most unimportant person in the whole universe. There, DeLuca, she told herself sternly ignoring the aching on her throat, this just proves that he doesn't give a damn about you.

And don't go telling yourself that you felt his eyes watching you as you walked away and you actually felt as though he needed you to actually breathe, because Maria, you are just delusional. Fucking delusional!

And remember, he had asked Max for Isabel and not you. Did you notice the way he said her name? Isabel...like it was candy, rolled off his tongue.

And how would he call you? Ma-ria. Always angry. Always roughly. In fact, if it was quite possible, for all the time that he had called your name, you would've have a dozen scars by now. Little cuts that would bleed every time.

Every fucking time!

Well, this was the limit. Maria thought getting worked up. Oh, yeah, get angry DeLuca.
No sense in feeling sorry for yourself. Take it all out on Michael.

She had done her part. She had done everything to reach out to him. She wasn't even dreaming of having a nice normal relationship with him anymore. That would be asking too much. And that wouldn't be fair for him either. What she wanted was for him to understand that she was strong enough to be let in. To be made his equal, his partner, his friend, and maybe sometime, in the next millennium, his girlfriend too, his lover, forget wife - no, she knew that was just next to impossible.

She just wanted to be there for him. Was that so much to ask for? He needed her and he was just too stubborn to admit it, even to himself, she guessed. Well fine. She'll give him time. Oh, plenty of time. The whole summer would be enough for him. She wasn't going to beg and threaten anymore. Michael will come to her. He always does. And until that time comes, she'd have to give him the space. She didn't want to be, but she knew that she would always be here, waiting for him. Because she loved him.

God, she needed to tell him that so much. Just so that he knows. Because she had made the mistake of letting him walk away. And she was paying for it now. She just wished he'd let her... Oh! She didn't know what Michael wanted from her. Maria cursed as she let the Jetta swerve to the other lane. Relax. Don't get yourself killed thinking about Guerin. She shook her head and was at it again before she can even stop herself.

She was so screwed. She couldn't think like Michael Guerin. She had tried once and she had to call in sick the next morning. Headache. The worst kind actually. She had long given up on trying to understand him. Because as far as she knows, he didn't want to be understood. He hated it when people try to understand him. They can never do. Because they weren't like him. No one is. Not Max, not Isabel, not Tess. No one. And he prided himself for that. And she loved him for that. She loved him for all the right and wrong reason. Which, really, is the formula for instant heartbreak.

Damn him. Damn him and his kisses and his touch, his eyes, his hands, his anger, his silent vulnerability, his stonewall. She was so addicted to him. Everything about him fascinated her, excited her, made her feel weak and alive...too many emotions in just a span of a second, his skin hot against her...

"I'm never going to think about Michael Guerin again especially when I'm driving!" Maria announced, vowing fiercely, knowing deep down, said vow would be broken in record time. Michael was always an exception.

He'd do crazy, irrational things so that no one can second-guess him, so that no one can predict what he'd do next. He loved seeing the surprise look on people when he do something so out of character for him, which is in truth is just so Michael-ish of him... and she couldn't believe the amount of Michael knowledge she has and still be so clueless and naïve. And maybe it was time that she give this stupid chase up. He didn't want to be caught. She was tired of running. He'd stop soon enough but when will she ever be able to walk beside him, in stride, not behind, and not in front of him?

She was going crazy. She is. No doubt about it. Michael Gurein had ruined her sound mind and body. She banged her head at the window. What a great summer she was having. She could only wish that Liz Parker was having a better one than her.