Part Three: The Worst of Nightmares

She opened her eyes back inside the dream and was startled to find the honeymoon suite devoid of Michael. She wondered how long she'd been gone as she scanned the room with her eyes. Before she could begin to panic, a gruff voiced wafted over her shoulder.

"Behind you."

She turned and found the man in question lounging in a chair tucked into the darkest corner of the room, cradling a tumbler of whiskey.

"Michael…" she began, but he cut her off.

"I know. I'm dreaming," he snapped before taking a huge gulp of the amber liquid swirling in his grasp.

"How…" she started, but he interrupted her again.

"You disappearing and reappearing like that was a pretty good hint. When I couldn't remember how we got from the reception hall to the room, the rest of pieces came together." He took a long pull of the seemingly bottomless glass. "Since you just got a front row seat for all that," he waved the alcohol in a lazy circle as if to encompass the room, their attire, and the reception, "and I'm pretty sure by now that you're the real Liz, while I'm still dreaming I thought I'd drink a little."

"Michael, it's okay," she said helplessly, unsure of what to say to make his obvious embarrassment less of a blow.

"Maybe you should drink a little," he replied with a bitter laugh. He wearily rubbed a hand against his eyes and asked, "Could you...not…be dressed like that?"

She frowned at him. "Is there something else for me to change into?

"Dream, Parker." he sneered at her, and with a wave of his hand the half demolished tux he was wearing melted into the t-shirt and jeans he had on in the real world. "You want to change something, you make it happen."

She looked away from his condescending smirk and ignored his request to gaze down at the gown gracing her body. "It's gorgeous," she whispered as she fingered the intricate lace detailing that clung to the fabric riding low on her hips. As a little girl, she had always imagined a mountainous confection of layered satin and tulle for her wedding dress. The simple silk sheath hugging her form made those dreams seem infantile. Had she actually gone wedding dress shopping, she would never have been brazen enough to pick this gown, with its low cut back and clinging fabric, to try on, but somehow it just FIT. Not just physically, though that was true enough, but psychologically. It fit with the woman she wanted to be. Unpretentious. Elegant. Sexy. A woman to be desired and coveted, not some childish fantasy of Barbie's Dream Wedding. Recalling her reflection in the window at the reception, her hand raised to stroke the locket at her throat, "My mother's necklace, my grandmother's mantilla veil…how did you know?"

Michael squirmed uncomfortably, "You brought them to Show and Tell once."

She gaped at him in shock, "That was in the fifth grade!"

He glared back at her, "Yeah, well; I'm observant."

She reached up to remove the veil and her fingers brushed against the white blossoms laced throughout her hair. She plucked a loose flower out as she tugged the veil free from her tresses. "I would have expected roses, but…I love the orchids," she murmured to herself as she toyed with the bloom's waxy petals.

"White roses are too plebeian," he muttered challengingly as he took another sip.

"That doing anything for you?" she asked as she lay the veil and flower down and sat across from him on the bed.

"I wish," he replied with a disgusted sigh as he tossed the remainder of the drink to the side. He took a deep breath before standing and said, "Okay, how do we get out of here?"

She rose from her seat, focusing her will to create an exit as Isabel had directed, and gestured to the suite's door. "Just step through there and you'll be back in the real world."

"Great," he snarled depreciatively. He took a couple steps forward before pausing to turn to her. "Look, this never happened. You don't mention it, I don't mention it. Deal?"

She studied him for a long minute before responding, "I'll agree if you answer one question."

"Depends on what it is," he growled back.

She reached forward to catch his left hand with hers and brought them both up to her eye level. In front of her, their 'wedding' rings gleamed with a bright platinum shine. She was more than a little surprised that he hadn't banished this raw reminder of what she'd witnessed when he'd changed his clothes, but she was glad for the opportunity to study the set side by side. The rings really were striking together; the diamond solitaire flanked by sapphires that twinkled like little stars gracing her hand perfectly complemented the simple band alternating evenly spaced white and blue gems that rested on his.

He looked uncomfortably down at their interlaced fingers before rumbling, "What about them?"

Her eyes bore into his as she asked quietly, "Why sapphires?" Knowing that Michael did nothing without what he considered a good reason; she couldn't contain her curiosity at his choice of symbolism for something as important to him as wedding rings.

He slid his hand out of her grip and headed toward the exit. Reaching out to twist the handle, he called over his shoulder without turning as he opened the door, "For loyalty."

The dream disintegrated around them as Michael stepped over the threshold.

Author's Notes & Sources

The following Michael dialogue is borrowed from Lt. Daniel Kaffee's dialogue in A Few Good Men:

My version
Michael: "…while I'm still dreaming I thought I'd drink a little"Liz: "Michael, its okay."
Michael: "Maybe you should drink a little."

The Original
Kaffee: "Anyway, since we seem to be out of witnesses, I thought I'd drink a little."
Galloway: "I still think we can win."
Kaffee: "Then maybe you should drink a little."