Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish they were mine.
A/N: I hated Samuel Rising. They'd already done one over-the-top sappy Christmas episode in S2, but they did it surprisingly well, and they should have left it at that. So I have completely tossed cannon at this point. If you don't like it…well, actually, anyone who wouldn't like it stopped reading after the first chapter, wasted their time sending an e-mail full of bad grammar, vague put-downs and dubious critical technique, and was subsequently mocked via the Muse's subtle and cutting wit (The reason the plot didn't make sense to you is because you're a moron. I'm surprised you can manage to use a computer. Or read something that doesn't include pictures of a big red dog.) I let her have the flamers; she enjoys exercising her cruel streak, and I have discovered that a polite response thanking them for taking the time to read and review my work, and asking if they, in turn, have posted anywhere so that I can return the favor, only invites comments like 'you're story is still dumb, im not reeding it, u r a stuck-up bitch.' Apparently my knee-jerk Canadian live and let live, everyone is entitled to their opinion, kindness is a mark of respect we all deserve mentality is wasted on some people. That's okay-I'd rather have intelligent readers anyway. (Oops. I think I got a little snark on the screen.) And anyone who read this huge unrelated tangent/rant of an Author's Note first without skipping to the story below totally deserves chocolate. So, back on topic, you probably will like it. Thank you. Enjoy.
Chapter Four
Michael followed her out, but cautiously, wondering if he should have brought reinforcements. He watched her cry for an eternity or two, the sound like a knife in his gut. When she seemed to be winding down, he sank down next to her, crouching at the edge of the back patio. "What did I do?" he asked tiredly.
Liz managed to giggle through her tears. "Nothing. This is just me being a girl," she explained. "I think Maria traumatized you."
He sighed. "Not like I didn't do a number on her, but no more tangents, Parker. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I'd have to be an idiot to believe that one."
Michael braced himself for a swat of annoyance, two years of conditioning having sunk deeper than bone. But instead, Liz shifted so she was sitting cross-legged and rested her head companionably on his shoulder. "Yup," she agreed.
"So, you gonna talk to me or what?"
"Or what," she decided.
"Liz…"
"You don't want to hear it, Michael. You'll think it's stupid. Trust me, okay?"
"I would never think that anything that made you this upset was stupid."
"Oh, it was just…a lot of things. Isabel, and at first I was upset that you didn't paint me anything, but this is the piece of the ship that Hal gave you, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah. And you knew all of that, didn't you? What I was upset about, and why."
"Yeah," he admitted. He'd seen her worry for Is, her disappointment, her wonder at realizing just how special his 'sparkly' gift was. He just hadn't counted on his intuition making her cry. Maria had usually been on his case for being completely in sensitive.
"I was just looking at Max…and I realized he never knew me that well. He never bothered to look. Even back when things were good…God, I can hardly remember it now…even then he didn't know me like you do. If he did, he'd know how much he hurt me…why I can't be with him anymore. God, if he'd ever known me like you do, he wouldn't have done it in the first place! He'd never have believed I slept with Kyle." She looked up at him, brown eyes serious and dark. "You didn't. You never believed me and you thought I was stupid or crazy or both for lying about it."
He didn't reply. She didn't seem to need it. "Realizing that someone you've always thought was the love of your life, and the most important person in it, really isn't, and never was…that's worth a few tears, I think."
"So you were crying because Max is oblivious and emotionally retarded?" Michael summed up.
"At least when it comes to me." Liz shivered and snuggled closer when Michael draped an arm around her. "It was all so intense and romantic, Romeo-and-Juliet. But when I actually thought about it for a minute-we did nothing but misunderstand and hurt each other. We didn't even really have anything in common."
Michael snorted. "And we do?" he retorted, forgetting for a moment that they were discussing couples and not friendship.
"We like Chinese food and pool and salt and pepper on strawberry ice cream," she countered, listing off a few of their similarities. "We hate Hugh Grant movies. We'd rather be too hot than too cold. We secretly love MASH reruns and old Warner Bros comic books. We think raw tomatoes taste like snot."
Michael let out a snort of laughter at her last comment. "But that's all just stupid little surface stuff."
"It's not stupid. Most of what I know about Max has to do with Antar. The rest I learned through flashes. I don't even know what his favorite colour is."
"You don't?" he repeated, surprised. "I thought you guys…talked. Maria was always saying-"
Liz shook her head. "We didn't talk about light stuff. Not like I do with you. It was all destiny and conspiracy and…I just got so tired of it, Michael. Being sucked into the alien abyss. You have a life outside all that. It's helping me remember that I used to have one too. I used to want other things for myself besides Max Evans. I had my own dreams."
"Don't you? Anymore?"
"I do," she aknowledged with a tilt of her head. "I just think they've changed while I wasn't paying attention."
"Well, when you figure it out, let me know."
"I will." She smiled.
""Max and I are leaving on Monday. We're going to Texas. There's a ship."
"There's always a ship."
"Seems like it. Anyway, Meta-Chem's having a Christmas party thing for the employees tomorrow night. Thought maybe you'd like to go."
"Sure…we don't usually do anything on Boxing Day anyway."
"There's that Parker enthusiasm," he drawled.
"No, it's just…it doesn't really seem like your kind of thing. We don't have to go."
"Nah, it's okay. The guys want to meet you, and there's a scientist from Boston on staff just for a couple of months, Dr…uh…Patrick?"
"Petrick," Liz corrected automatically, then gasped. "Sofia Petrick is going to be there?"
"Older lady, red hair, pretty hot in a Mrs. Robinson kind of way?" Michael offered.
"Michael!" Liz admonished, then nodded. "Yes, that's her. She's a really amazing boichemist, Michael. She completely revolutionized the way we look at hormones and pheromones and their effect on mood-"
"Okay, Little Miss Scientist. Easy. You have to promise not to pass out if I introduce you. Got a rep to keep up."
"Oh. Right." Liz flushed. "It sounds like fun, Michael. Thank you for thinking of me." She kissed his cheek, the same as she would if he was her dad, or Alex, and went back inside.
Michael sat there with one finger brushing the spot where he could feel the slight stickiness of her lipstick, whether to wipe it away or keep it there forever like a brand, he wasn't sure. "I always think of you, Liz," he said softly, wondering when it had become true.
oOo
Liz smiled faintly when Isabel met her at the door. "I'm okay," she said, before the girl could ask. They'd never be best friends, but they'd gotten closer since Maria left for New York. Neither of them really had anyone else.
"I'm the one who's pregnant," Isabel teased. "Why are you crying?"
"Oh, I-"
Michael came in behind her, and Isabel's smile fell flat. "Forget I asked."
Michael sneered, still reeling from his conversation with Liz. "Because the way you sprung the whole pregnancy thing on us was very tasteful."
"You're one to talk! Like you never-"
"Okay, you two, time out before you sprout antennae or something." Liz stepped between them, always the peacemaker, hands held out. "Michael, just because you made me cry by being too nice is no reason to be mean to Isabel. And Is, did it ever occur to you that your opinion of Michael might be slightly biased? Maria complained all the time and Michael just never said anything. We only assumed that was because she was right."
"So why didn't you say anything?" Isabel demanded after a nonplussed moment.
Michael scratched at his eyebrow. "Because I didn't want to embarrass her," he said at last. "Or fight with her or…whatever. It didn't seem like a conversation we should be having in front of other people. Or at all."
"So you just, what, let her yell at you and never said anything?" Isabel appeared to be thinking. "I remember her yelling and crying, and you refusing to give in, or making one of your patented smart remarks, but you never yelled back, Michael."
He shrugged. "Didn't seem worth the effort. Besides, most of the time she was right. I loved her, but we really seemed to bring out the worst in each other. A lot."
"Oil and water," Liz said softly.
"More like nitroglycerin and battery acid," Isabel replied, laughing softly. "I swear, some days I thought you were going to kill each other…" Isabel glanced at Liz and saw her solemn expression. Oh. "Liz, you have some kind of mascara…thing. You know where the bathroom is, right?" She retreated, tactfully, back to the living room.
"You know, you can argue with people sometimes, Michael," Liz said as she fussed in the immaculate kitchen. "You won't hurt them, just because you're mad. You're not like Nacedo…or Hank."
He barked a short laugh. "I tried to keep my cool, but Maria left because she was afraid of me. She made Billy leave for the same reason."
Liz shook her head. "Maybe that's part of it, but it's not the only reason. The whole alien chaos thing…it kind of freaks her out, you know? The way she grew up was so far from normal, that that's what she wants, or her version of it, I guess. We've talked about this," she added when Michael glanced at her curiously. "She's scared of being different…of being like her mom. And you're so different, Michael."
"And you're not scared? Of being different, I mean," he hastened to add, though his eyes were watchful.
"Nope," she replied easily. "For so long, I wanted to be anything but normal. I got my wish. It had a price that never occurred to me, but everything we want does. And there have been good things, too."
"Like?"
"Christmas Nazi. Ava. Las Vegas and the UFO Convention and lanewalking and pizza with jellybeans and a million things I never would have done and seen and felt without you."
She means the three of you, Michael's inner voice warned. Don't be an idiot. "Liz, I-"
"Liz, Michael, we still have presents to open," Jeff Parker called from the living room.
"Oh. We'll, uh, be right there!" Liz put two hands to her face, smearing the mascara worse.
"Here." Michael brushed his hand over her face, milimeters from touching. "Like it never happened."
"I wouldn't want that." Liz smiled at him and went back into the living room.
oOo
The next evening, Michael went to the Crashdown to pick Liz up, praying she wasn't wearing red. Anything but red. A little black dress…something in green, green is Christmassy…or white, white would even be okay. White showed off her tan and the darkness of her hair and the bright sparkle of her eyes, but it was…virginal. Pure. Liz in red was pure temptation.
She came down the stairs…in an at-the-knee dress the colour of good red wine. Michael closed his eyes briefly. The fates hate me. He'd started having all these really weird thoughts about Liz, and her coming downstairs in gathered filmy fabric over satin, all tied at her shoulders with ribbons-ribbons, for God's sake, in big undoable bows!-was not helping. And her hair was up in little curls baring her elegant neck and the curve of her back and he was so totally going to hell just for having the thoughts he was having. She was wearing sexy little sandals in dark red velvet and her legs were bare and…and his fingers were trembling. He hadn't even had this reaction to Maria when they first made love. Liz was walking down the stairs toward him with a smile on her beautiful face because he was wearing the sweater she made him, she had holly in her hair and his necklace around her throat, and his fingers were trembling.
"You look…" Beautiful. Amazing. Edible. "…nice," he managed.
"You too." She smiled at him again. Michael waited for her to start in on his Docs, or his hair, or the fact that he wasn't wearing a suit. She didn't, only touched the fabric of the sweater lightly. "It looks really good on you, Michael."
"Is that complimenting me, or complimenting you?"
"Both, I guess," she admitted, laughing. "But it does."
"Thanks. Are you ready to go?"
Liz made a face. "My parents want pictures."
"Of us? Why?"
"It's my mom." Liz shrugged. "She never got hours of prom pictures, now she's taking the opportunity to…inflict torture. It's traditional. Her parents embarrassed her, she embarrasses us, and someday we'll embarrass our kids. Mom wants us out front, you know those little trees with all the lights?"
Michael winced. "Why didn't she get pictures of you and Max for prom?" Liz wouldn't look at him. "Liz?"
""My parents don't like Max. Didn't, even before the whole convenience store thing. Me going to prom with him wasn't something they wanted to remember."
"And this is?"
Liz grinned. "Guess so."
Nancy captured just the look she wanted for the pictures. In all of them, Liz was glowing and happy, and Michael was looking at her as if someone had just handed him the world.
oOo
The staff party was being held at the lobby of the Springfield Hotel, while Meta-Chem was being staffed by the four antisocial members of the security team who preferred overtime to free booze. Michael had, in fact, planned on working too, but if their little trip to Texas went sideways, well…he would rather have spent the last night of his life with Liz than checking to make sure doors were secured.
When Liz walked in, eyes wide and searching for the infamous Dr. Sofia Petrick, Michael put one hand at her back and whispered, "She's not here yet."
Liz flushed. "Was I that obvious?"
"Yeah," he replied, smirking at her.
"You're such a pain," she replied lightly, toying with her necklace. "So where are your guys?"
"That's Steve, Cheryl and Marcus over there," Michael replied with a nod toward the buffet. "Let's go say hi."
"Hey, man," Michael said when he stepped up to Steve.
"Hey, Mike. And you must be Liz."
"It's nice to meet you," Liz replied, a little shyly. She hadn't thought Michael would talk about her to 'work friends'-he was such a private person-but Steve was smiling and motioning his wife over. "This is Cheryl, and Marcus, who is getting too heavy for Mom to carry," he added, easily lifting his son out of his wife's arms. "We couldn't get a sitter."
Liz glanced around the room again, seeing it in a new light. There were families here, many with young kids. Michael was probably the youngest Meta-Chem employee in the room. No wonder he hadn't wanted to go alone.
Marcus started to fuss, reaching out for his mother. "Nuh-uh, little man, Mommy needs a break," Steve crooned, but Marcus' face screwed up and he let out an ear-splitting wail.
"Good to know his lungs are working," Liz commented with a gentle smile, seeing that both Cheryl and Steve were embarassed. "Can I…?"
"Sure." Steve held Marcus out slightly and Liz settled him against her shoulder, rubbing his back in gentle circles.
"He likes to be held facing forwa-" Steve began, but Marcus had already settled to gentle huffy sighs. Michael watched, unnerved, as Liz smoothed her cheek against soft baby skin and began shifting from one foot to the other. Marcus was yawning and making sleepy noises. "Wow. Guess he likes you," Steve observed.
"It's mutual." Liz kissed the top of his head and turned toward Michael, unconsciously swaying her back so that the baby lay cuddled against her chest. "What is it?"
Michael cursed mentally. She knew him far too well, and this wasn't something he wanted to talk about. "Nothing. I just didn't know you were so good with kids."
"Remember when I went to Florida, summer before last?"
"Yeah."
"Part of the reason-aside from needing to get away from Roswell-was that my cousin Shannah had just had her third baby. A newborn with colic and two-year-old twins is hard for two parents to handle alone."
"Huh."
"Guess all the mommy practice paid off." Liz turned to Steve. "Do you want me to put him down somewhere?"
"Sure. Here, I'll take-" As Steve started to scoop him up, Marcus let out another air-raid-siren yell. "Or not," Steve added quietly. As soon as he let go of his son the kid was fast asleep again. "I don't know whether to be grateful or insulted."
"I don't mind holding him for a while. He's a sweetie."
"Are you sure?" Cheryl asked.
"I'm fine. It just gives me an excuse to have Michael wait on me hand and foot."
"Yeah, you guys have fun. Have a night off. It's Christmas," Michael added easily.
"Yeah?" Steve shared a broad grin with his wife when Liz nodded. "Thanks, Liz. Mike, she's a keeper," Steve added, clapping him on the back.
Michael glanced at Liz out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, thanks, man," he muttered, deciding anything else would be horribly rude. "Hey, Parker, your idol's here."
Liz turned as quickly as she could with a baby in her arms. "Dr. Petrick? Oh, Michael-"
"Keep your pants on, I'll introduce you. Come on."
"Hey, Sofia," Michael said easily when they approached the eminent scientist.
"Hello, Michael," she replied with a smile.
"This is Liz. She's been dying to meet you."
"Ah, so there is a Mrs. Guerin?"
Liz turned bright red. "Oh, ah, no," she managed. "We're…this is…"
"Steve and Cheryl's son," Michael finished easily. "They're out on the dance floor, and I don't really dance, so…" He was about to say more when his pager went off. "Guys checking in," Michael said, after having a look at the code on the pager. "I've gotta go find a phone." He pressed a kiss to Liz's temple. "I'll be right back, okay?"
"Okay. I wonder why they paged Michael?" she murmured.
"He got promoted to shift supervisor," the doctor replied. "Didn't you know? Oh, he probably wanted it to be a surprise, and now I've ruined it."
"No, I don't think so," Liz replied. "Michael doesn't really care about titles."
"No, he doesn't, does he? He's a very unique young man."
"How do you know Michael?"
"I work late, quite often. I seem to get a lot more done when there's no one else there. Michael insists on walking me to my car when I'm finished for the night-says it isn't safe." She added with a rueful laugh, "I thought he had a bit of a crush on me. I have to admit, I was very flattered."
"He probably does," Liz replied, studying the doctor intently. She was probably close to forty, but she carried it well, dark red hair and a peaches-and-cream skin tone as smooth as a teenager, with only very fine lines around her green eyes to belie her true age. "Michael likes older women. He's eighteen, you know."
"Are you trying to set us up?" Sofia asked, humour in her tone.
"Michael and I are just friends," Liz replied. "I used to date his best friend, and he used to date mine. We commiserated together."
"Oh. Is that why he's glaring at every man who looks at you?"
"He's very protective. You might have noticed."
"I did. Is he an older brother?"
Liz thought of Max and Isabel. "Sort of," she replied, then changed the subject. "But I actually wanted to talk to you about your last article in Biometrics Magazine, on using hormone therapy to treat hereditary mental illness…"
oOo
When Michael came back, he found Sofia and Liz seated on a loveseat, holding court with several of the Meta-Chem scientists. Liz was still rocking Marcus with one hand, and when Michael came up to her with a glass of champagne, she smiled up at him brilliantly and said, "There you are. You promised to dance with me."
The words 'I don't dance' leapt to his lips, but he swallowed them. He could see envious glances from some of the higher-ups, and the vice president looked at Liz and remarked, "You certainly don't lack for partners. I would be more than happy to dance with you."
"Thank you, Martin, but I don't think I'll be on my feet for long in these shoes." She stood and threaded through the crowd to where Steve and Cheryl were dancing. "I'm going to put him down in the side room, okay?"
"Sure. Thank you, Liz," Steve replied with a smile. "This has been the best night out we've had in a long time."
"Anytime. I mean it," Liz replied. Michael trailed her into a parlor just off the main lobby of the hotel, where several parents had set play pens up and one of the hotel staff was reading a book and keeping one eye out for the older kids watching TV. Liz put Marcus down in one of the play pens and covered him with a light blanket. "Poor little man. Too much excitement for him."
"Yeah, I know the feeling." Michael was feeling remarkably out of his depth. People who never looked twice at him in the course of a workday were watching him enviously. He'd been congratulated at the buffet and good-naturedly cursed at the bar. And now he had to dance. "Liz, I'll just step on your toes."
"My toes can take it. You promised, Michael."
"Yeah, yeah," he replied with a sigh. It wasn't just that he couldn't dance, although public humiliation hadn't been on his Christmas wish list. Holding Liz close in her red dress was sure to lead to embarassment of a more private kind.
The band started playing Eric Clapton's 'Layla' as Michael took her in his arms, a soft ballad accompanied by accoustic guitar. She smiled up at him wistfully. "I love this song."
Michael made a face. "Derek and the Dominoes."
"Huh?"
"The original version."
"The fast one? I never liked it. It's too…angry."
"It should be angry," Michael shot back. "Have you ever actually listened to the words? He's so in love it's torturing him-and she doesn't even care."
"I didn't know you were still that upset about Maria," Liz said after a stunned moment.
"I'm not still-"
"Well then why are you so angry?" She peered up at him, genuinely puzzled. "Is it Max? Because honestly, I'm not trying to lead him on-I just want us to be friends again, the way we-"
He covered her mouth with his fingertips and shook his head. "I'm not mad," he lied, knowing he had no right to be. The words rolled out, so suited to the moment it could have been a TV show soundtrack. He cringed. I tried to give you consolation, when your old man had let you down. Like a fool, I fell in love with you, you turn my whole world upside down...
"I don't think it's angry," she said when the song ended. "It's…sad. I wonder if he ever got her to love him back."
"It's just a song, Liz."
"I remember reading somewhere that he wrote it for a real person. I just wondered…"
"I don't think so." Michael smiled, a little ruefully. "Some things just aren't meant to be."
Disclaimer: I think you all have the idea by now, but just in case…all for Katims. None for me.
Author's Notes: I'm sorry! I am a bad, bad, mean mean girl for not updating sooner! I don't even have an excuse! You just mean to do things, don't you, and somehow they don't get done (for instance, right now I am supposed to be doing the dishes). But I'm sorry, and here it is, and hopefully the next bit gets done sooner.