Thank you all for the Feedback!!! I really appreciate it! Lyrics are to Eisley's "Blackened Crown" -G

Part 11

Did you hear me holler at you
to come save me I'm in danger
My pearls have fallen into mud
and you were too late

It was like last spring all over again. Coming into that room and seeing Nicholas before him, cocky and condescending – boasting about killing him in their last life, smirking over what he was sure was something related to Tess. He wanted him dead and it scared him that he could be so sure of it, especially knowing the cost of taking a life.

In the end, it hadn't mattered – he collapsed and Michael decided that saving Courtney's life was more worthwhile than taking Nicholas'. Courtney wasn't someone he trusted, but she had information about the skins, and he knew that they'd need it – down the line.

There was a part of him that still wasn't sure he'd made the right decision. But there hadn't been time – he got outside and there were screams and orders barked in rapid succession, nothing really penetrating his consciousness. Everyone was moving, running for their lives desperate to leave Copper Summit.

Everyone except Tess. She'd been practically dragged by Max and Liz over here, something that he hadn't noticed at first, but registered it when he looked back and she was still standing there – lost and confused like she was just coming into waking.

Slamming the trunk shut, his world suddenly felt like it was in slow motion. He'd reached for Tess, only to have her jerk away and press her hands to her head. Air caught in his lungs as he watched her knees buckle under her weight, her small body collapsing to the ground, his ears trained on the pained screams ripping from her mouth as she continued to claw at her hair.

His stomach felt like it was coated in lead and the metallic taste of blood registered on his tongue before he noticed that he'd bitten the inside of his mouth. He could see Liz's mouth moving from the corner of his eye but couldn't register the words coming out, all his attention focused on the blonde in front of him.

It all was hazy after that. Someone said something and someone else reminded them that they had to leave. It wasn't until Max grabbed at Tess, pulling her frail body up from the ground as if she had no value to him that he had regained his focus.

"We don't have time for this." Max spat, his exasperation and fear colored his delivery, and Tess just turned her head away from everyone, but not before he had noticed the desolate look in her eye.

"Bastard." Michael snarled, his anger rising as he clenched his fists – desperate to get out some of the fury that had been rising within him. As he'd stepped closer, he barely registered Tess cowering to his target's left; he just wanted to inform Max that his behavior was unwarranted the only way he knew how.

But then Maria had stood next to him in what he realized now was an effort to stop the rapidly escalating violence, pressing her keys into his palm, the little alien head leaving an indent.

"Michael take Tess," Maria had ordered, guiding the smaller girl to the car. She then turned to Courtney, who was trying to get into the back seat and commanded, "hey geriatric, c'mon we're going with Max."

Then, he was in the car, his thoughts leaving him with no comfort – Tess hadn't said anything the entire car ride home, and he wasn't sure he wanted to ask. In fact, the only thing that indicated that she was even conscious was the steady stream of tears falling down her face.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that something terrible had happened – and it more likely than not had to do with Nicholas. The pained, haunted look in her eyes was enough evidence for him – and after Courtney's explanation of what he was capable of, just seeing her like this made him sick to his stomach.

He just didn't know what to do to help her.

Drumming his fingertips on the steering wheel, he stole glances at her as they drove toward the Valenti's. Apprehensive, Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat as self doubt continued to assault his consciousness.

Clenching his fists, he resisted the urge to punch the steering wheel. An angry tear fell from his face and he swatted it away. Cursing Nicholas, he watched Tess wrap her arms around herself and push her body further into the seat.

Her skin was red and blotchy, marring her normally clear complexion. She looked so tiny as she receded into the passenger seat, her hair, loose and dull, beginning to veil her face. It was like a sucker punch to the gut, seeing her like this, broken and defeated, and so hopelessly alone.

You did this – it's your fault. An unspoken accusation that he repeated like a mantra in his head. It grew in strength with each choked sob and strangled cry that escaped from her throat.

Why had he even given a passing consideration to letting her do this? He knew it was a possibility that she'd run into Nicholas. Why the hell did he think she'd be okay?

He'd wanted to believe in the possibility that she was fine so desperately that he'd stopped himself from objecting. And that decision had far greater consequences than he could have even imagined.

Pulling up to the driveway, he stopped the car and exhaled. The ride had been draining, for both of them. "Tess, we're here."

His voice cracked and he bit down hard on his lip. He wasn't supposed to cry – he was supposed to be the strong one, he wasn't the one who was hurt here.

She turned toward him, and he half expected to see rage in her eyes. It would have been warranted – he failed and now he was about to cry. Wild, fearful blue orbs stared back at him, silently pleading for him not to leave her here.

Exhaling, he turned the ignition and started the car, noticing her visible relief from the corner of his eye. Why did she want to stay with him anyway?

What was it Nicholas had said he was? Dull and stupid – hell, the bastard had been kind in his description. He was scum, the eternal fuck up. Hell, he was Mickey, the boy who couldn't even put up a fight against a drunk shit like Hank. The one no one wanted.

Driving down the empty street, her fingers dragged against the window of the car, the cool desert air had created a fog and she was drawing obscure pictures, in what he was sure was an attempt to drive her attention away from what happened in Arizona.

Another jarring reminder of one simple truth: he failed her. And not for the first time either. It was in his genes to protect them, to protect her. But he continued to prove just how much he sucked at it – no wonder they'd all died the last time.

Courtney described what Nicholas could do as rape. And maybe it was, but maybe it was worse. He didn't want to know what that meant. But he didn't have a choice – he had to help her, it was the least he could do now.

"This is it."

"Okay." Tess sighed, extending her small hand outward to grasp the door handle. He couldn't help but hold his breath as she began the small movement, wondering if she'd actually complete it. It was strange how the simplest gesture could affect him, but he was relieved to see that she was doing something other than her best impersonation of a mime.

The tension was palpable as the two of them entered his small apartment. Neither wanting to discuss what, exactly had happened – and it frustrated him. Scratching his eyebrow, he wished he had the ability to use empty words to make people feel better – to be more like Max.

But her blank stares and apprehensive twiddling of her fingers told him one thing. She needed more than that – and he wasn't sure how to give it to her. Inhaling, he turned to face her head on, and was struck by just how different she looked from the girl she'd been only a day ago.

Confidence had been replaced by insecurity so raw that it was hard to even look at her. Her wide blue eyes were dull and sad, devastation imbued her gaze. She was jumping at shadows – something he'd failed to notice in the car, but now, on his couch, she would jerk, ever so slightly each time his foot met the worn carpet.

"What happened?" Two words. It was two words that verbalized the question that he had been wondering the entire ride to Roswell.

"Nothing!" She shouted, her voice cracking as the lie immediately fell from her lips. Not wanting to say anything yet, he simply raised an eyebrow in response and crossed his arms against his chest.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry." Tess mumbled, pushing her body forward, up off the couch, toward the doorway and his stomach felt like it was sinking to the floor. She was shutting him out, and, in his mind, deservedly so. It still didn't mean that it didn't hurt worse than anything else in the world.

"Don't." Michael commanded, the protest slipping from his lips without warning and his voice much stronger than he felt. Reaching out, his palm met her forearm, and without thinking, his fingers tightened around it, holding her in place. Blue met brown in a challenge, a spark of righteous indignation flashing across her face, and he felt himself being drawn into her gaze.

Her fear hit him without warning, thousands of emotions suddenly overpowering him, drawing him further into the connection. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, his lungs burning as if he'd just run a marathon and it felt like he was going to pass out from the shear force of it all.

Moments in time flashed by as the erratic thumping of his heart rang in his ear. His throat ached as his stomach tightened in knots – adrenaline kicking into high gear. Energy was coursing through his veins, desperate for release.

It was too much, and his control was too faulty. Wincing, he exhaled, silently praying that he wouldn't hurt her. Bursts of light flickered across his view as the air stilled and emotions gave way to images.

Blood, broken glass and shattered limbs permeated his view, Nicholas towering overhead, his smile malicious as he came closer, until his foot was grinding against Tess' palm. His mouth was moving, but Michael couldn't make out the words, and he wasn't sure if it was the flashes or Tess' need for him not to hear that was stopping him.

The visions shifted and changed as Nicholas moved closer, his mouth precariously close to what, he assumed, was her ear.

It felt like he had been punched in the gut, Tess fired a gun at him, cackling, her inhibitions gone as the bullet penetrated his skin, his body falling to the ground. She was towering over him now, slithering against his flesh, eyes dark and desirous, as if this was what she had wanted all along.

"Get off me!"

Violent, jerking motions pushed him away from her, and he opened his eyes to see Tess staring at him wild and angry and hurt. Her blue eyes burned him with silent accusations of violated trust.

He hadn't meant for it to happen. But there they were, easily accessible and so raw. But the scariest part was that he knew they got worse than what he'd seen in those fleeting moments. She was hiding something sinister inside herself that she didn't want him to see.

"Jesus, what the hell was that?" It was the first thing that he could think of – his mind was still reeling from what he'd experienced and how it contrasted with what, exactly he'd seen earlier. She had been bloody in those images, and then, killing him – but from what he could see there wasn't a mark on her.

Maybe Nicholas had just put all those images in her head? Courtney said he could take things out – so maybe it worked both ways? All he knew was the next time he saw that asshole would be the last.

"Nothing, okay?" Her delivery was haughty but her posture was anything but. She was fearful of her secret getting out, and unable to lie with the same gusto she had when she'd first come to Roswell.

And it infuriated him that she was covering for that little shit at all.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, the rage boiling within him as she continued to shift her weight uncomfortably from side to side. Whatever that bastard did to her, whatever he took and put in its place – he couldn't even find the words to describe how much he wanted him dead.

If he'd only been more determined – quicker on the draw in Arizona, he wouldn't be thinking about next time, he'd be tap dancing on the fucker's grave. Why was he such a fuck up and why was she trying to hide what happened?

"Don't bullshit me! Was that him? I'll fucking kill him!" His outburst was primal – his words falling over each other in stops and starts as they grew louder and more forceful until they reached a furious climax.

"Would you listen to yourself?" Tess hollered, jumping off the couch and defensively clasping a hand against her chest. The resigned look in her eye infuriated him – as if she was merely acting like she was incensed by his behavior to mask just how unwilling she was to fight.

"How can you be so calm about this? What the hell did he do?"

Pushing her hair out of her face she glared up at him, anger visible on her face. If it weren't for the way that she was shifting from side to side, he would think that she was legitimately angry at him, and not trying to hide her fear. "Someone has to be! God, Michael! You can't just kill him!"

"He's trying to kill you and you want to what, give him a hug? We're at war Tess!" Balling his fists, he resisted the urge to let his anger get the best of him. It would be so easy to take out the wall, let his fury win out. But seeing her stand there, her bottom lip trembling even as her face was void of emotion, he knew that any outward display of his anger would break her.

"Don't you think I know that? Just drop it!" She was screaming and clawing at her hair, willing him to stop, but he wouldn't drop it. He owed her more than that, especially when she refused to see just how much he'd continue to affect her, unless they came up with a solution.

"Are you crazy?"

Her palm collided with his cheek and he recoiled as her fingers drew themselves away from his skin. It burned worse than he thought it would, but he knew that he deserved it – and not just for insulting her mental state.

"Don't you ever call me that!"

"Sorry. I didn't mean… but god Tess!"

"I don't want to talk about it." Her arms were folded across her chest and she was staring at him like it was the end of the conversation, but he wasn't going to take that for an answer.

Defiant, he pressed her, repeating the question that continued to plague him.

"What did he do to you?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it Michael!" She was shrieking now, her voice growing more desperate for him to stop pressing and firm in her resolve to stop talking about the entire ordeal.

"You can't just decide not to talk about it Tess. Fuck! What I saw…Courtney said that he can take your thoughts, is that what he did? Because, what I saw, that's not you, Tess."

He was stumbling over his words, anger and frustration getting the best of him as she stared back at him, emotionless and unwilling to discuss it any further. But seeing her grow tenser, quieter as he continued to broach the subject infuriated him.

"I want to help you Tess. But you have to tell me what he did."

Pointedly, she looked at him, and exhaled, saying without words that she didn't want, or think she needed his help. Too fucking bad – he returned her glare with one of his own and she finally relented, her face softening as she shifted her hands off her hips.

"I don't know what he did, okay?"

Raising an eyebrow in response, he shut his eyes in an attempt to mask his desire to roll them. How could she not know what Nicholas did – he saw those flashes from her, sensed her fear and apprehension – so why was she lying?

Tess shifted, her feet scraping against the worn carpet as she met his gaze, anger masking any other emotion and he groaned inwardly, bracing himself for whatever she was about to say.

At least she was feeling something other than desolation, and while he hated to see the ire marring her face, he knew that she was feeling – and that, he thought, was a victory in itself.

"What do you want me to say, Michael? That I'm missing time? That he beat the shit out of me – that I thought… god I thought. I thought I was going to die! And then, I woke up, or came out of it or whatever and the first thing I notice is that I'm suddenly healed and all these people staring at me like I'm nuts! I lived and did things that I don't remember, and don't even think I had control over."

The air expelled from his lungs as he watched her shoulders sag, tears and red rimmed eyes replacing the defiant anger he'd seen moments before. He hadn't considered that Nicholas had, basically, taken over her body – and it added a new dimension to the equation. It didn't quite make sense yet, but from she was saying, he assumed that somehow Nicholas had the ability to turn them into puppets for whatever he needed.

"So, no. Michael, I don't know what he did. All I know is that he told me what he could make me do – and showed me just how easy it is for him to do it."

He had no idea how to respond to what she was saying, her tears drowning out any ability for him to think clearly. Reaching out a hand, he tried to draw her into him, only to have her step backward, away from him. She wrapped her arms around herself as she took a seat on the couch and turned away.

That fucker was going down.

Had it only been yesterday that they were hugging and happy and scared to let each other go? It seemed like a lifetime had gone by since then and they were two strangers trying to cope with a tragedy.

"What can I do?"

They were four words that he'd never really uttered before, he'd never gotten this close to anyone before, not even Max or Isabel to offer his help, not that they'd want it. He was just the one that was always fucking things up, according to them – not the one who could help find solutions.

He opened his mouth to say something else, add more words in an attempt to say something else, something more poignant that could help her, but she wasn't listening. Michael could tell from her perch that her mind was already reeling again, going a mile a minute in an attempt to find a solution.

"Don't worry, I have a plan."

She had a plan? Why did that make him feel even worse about what was going on? Maybe it was the blasé way that she introduced it – as if it was an afterthought to her, even now.

And that meant one thing – whatever it was, she was planning on going it alone. Fucking great.

"And you weren't going to tell me?"

He already knew the answer the second he opened his mouth. It was the way that she shifted further away from him, protective of whatever idea she had. It took him a moment, but then he realized what, exactly, she was doing. Tess didn't want him to touch her – and was she really to blame? He'd gotten flashes before, and although it killed him to be in the dark about this, he sort of understood. She needed something to be just hers again.

The only problem was this wasn't the right time to reclaim her privacy. She was playing up her independence card with someone who had tried to kill her. The details weren't there and he wasn't sure he wanted to press her yet, but from what he'd seen and felt and heard, he knew this was a bad idea.

Even if he wanted to kill Nicholas.

"No."

Exasperated, he clasped his hands together, fist hitting palm as she continued to hold his gaze – silently defiant. It wasn't so much what she said that was frustrating him, it was how she was saying it. She was still angry for the sake of being angry, not because she felt impassioned, irate and willing to fight.

"We're a group. We do things together –you can't just go off on your own here." God, he sounded like Max, lecturing her like this when he refused to accept the same advice.

She was up off the couch and angrily pacing in front of him. "Michael, I'm not a part of the group. Or haven't you noticed? You're the only person who…"

"Exactly! I care! Damnit Tess. I love you!"

Blanching, he continued to stare at her, the air expelling from his lungs as he realized what exactly he'd said. The last time he'd – hell, the only time he'd said those three words was to get Maria off his back. Sure, he'd sort of thought, at the time, that he'd loved her – but that was nothing compared to this.

And now he'd fucking told her – and why? Because he wasn't thinking. Story of his fucking life.

The silence dragged on for a minute in a half. Tess was shifting from side to side, but said nothing. Her face was emotionless and she stared blankly back at him, brushing a stray piece of hair off her face before she opened her mouth, a sharp monotone revealing itself.

"You shouldn't."

She was shutting down – and he wasn't about to let her, not now, not after that admission. And who the fuck was she to tell him that he shouldn't love her? It doesn't work that way!

"Well tough shit. Just because you're feeling guilty that some fuckwad who's been planning this for years attacked you doesn't mean that you get to tell me how I should feel. You beat him, Tess! You may not think that now, but you're still here – and yeah, it sucks what he did to you. But you beat him, and the only way he wins now is if you let him."

Yeah, it was clichéd and stupid and probably the lamest pep talk ever, but he was hoping that at least she was paying attention to him. Scratching his eyebrow, he watched as her eyes softened slightly as she focused on him.

"I don't do flowers and chocolates or whatever the hell it is girls want, but I love you. And I don't want to see you get yourself killed. Okay?"

"I know what I'm doing." Tess snapped, stepping closer to him, challenging him to fight her on this. It was what she wanted – for him to call her stupid, crazy, so that she could recoil again, cite some righteous indignation that would justify her pushing him away.

"No, you don't." Moving closer, his lips were inches from hers as he stared down at her, impassioned and determined, but still unwilling to close the space between them, they hung in limbo, taunting her.

Irate blue orbs stared up at him, refusing to give in to temptation. He forced back the urge to smirk as she furrowed her brow and puffed her chest up in an attempt to stand taller against him.

"Yes, I…"

Cutting her off, Michael crushed his lips to hers, violently closing the space between them. She responded in kind, her nails digging into his back as her tongue darted in and out of his mouth, colliding with his tongue as he snaked his hand into her hair.

"God, Michael," Tess moaned, her breath warm against his cheek as she lifted his shirt up and over his head before he had a chance to protest.

Lips meeting again, his hands slipped beneath her shirt, digits tracing the outline of her breast, as she took his bottom lip in her mouth, gently grating it with her teeth. Her eyes darkened as he continued to explore the soft flesh, any hesitation gone as soft curls fell away from her face as she arched her body backward.

Her hand slipped downward, underneath the waistband of his jeans and she gave him a wicked grin. Gently stroking him, he slammed his eyes shut as the course fabric grew tighter, trying not to come apart in her hands.

"Jesus," Michael groaned, Tess' body pressed against his, and he wondered, idly, when she'd lost her shirt as he cupped her breast, moving his mouth downward to meet the exposed flesh.

Flicking his tongue, he felt her shift in his arms, coming up as he pulled away, an amorous glint in her eye.

"Bedroom," she commanded, dragging him behind her – Tess suddenly fully in control. Not that he minded, he mused, all his concerns about yesterday fading away as she pulled him into the room by tugging on the waistband of his jeans, shutting the door behind him.