CHAPTER 30
It took Maria several moments to even begin to process what had just happened. Part of her was aware that the arms that were holding her up belonged to Max, that Liz and Isabel were standing nearby, but most of her mind was still awash in an ocean of sound, sight and feeling. She felt as if the top of her head had been blasted off by the pressure of the emotions she'd just experienced, and that the bits and pieces that were Maria were all jumbled together with foreign yet somehow familiar pieces of someone else.
Gradually she began to pull herself together enough to straighten and stand on her own, although Max kept a supportive hand on her back. "What happened?" she heard him ask, but didn't respond, focusing all her attention on the haggard alien before her.
His expression fluctuated rapidly between anger and worry and doubt and back again before he shut himself off, visibly steeling himself for her reaction.
"Are you happy now? Did you see enough?" he asked bitterly. "Or do I have to show you more to make you understand?"
She could read him so easily now--the abrupt demeanor and aggression used as mask to hide his self-loathing and fear. He was dreading her response, deathly afraid that she would do what he couldn't and close off from him. And just as afraid that she wouldn't.
Stumbling, Maria took a step forward, shaking off Max's hand. Looking up into Michael's face, she could see within his eyes a multitude of questions he was afraid to ask. Instinctively, without hesitation or thought, she crossed the gap between them and wrapped her arms tightly around him, both asking and giving comfort.
For a moment his hands clenched. Then, heedless of his burns, his arms closed around her, loosely at first, but growing tighter as she nestled within them. With a slump, his head found its way to the crook between her shoulder and neck, and he closed his eyes tightly, bowed down by a weight almost too heavy to bear.
The others stood, silent and unmoving, not wanting to intrude on this intensely private moment.
Finally, with a small sigh, Maria reached a hand up and ran it through his spiky hair. Michael held still, taking comfort in the gentle stroke of her hand. "It's all right," she whispered. "Everything is going to be all right."
Michael, who was not so sure of this, raised his head and straightened his slumping shoulders. He allowed his arms to slide from around her. Suddenly realizing they were surrounded, he averted his gaze from the others, refusing to look at them. Unashamed, Maria reached for his left hand, and his fingers entwined with hers of their own volition. She turned to face the worried friends around her.
"What just happened here?" asked Max, voicing everyone's concern.
"Not now, Max. Give us a few minutes, will you? We can talk about it in a little while," responded Maria. She turned to the spike-headed alien, whose fingers gripped hers tightly. "Michael," she began, "let's get your arm taken care of first, all right? You need to be healed."
Max immediately took a step forward toward his friend's side, but a small shake of Maria's head stopped him in his tracks. "Isabel?" she said questioningly. "Would you heal him?"
Confused and feeling strangely betrayed, Max watched as Maria helped Michael out of his jacket and pulled him to the couch. She gently unwrapped the towel covering his forearm before sitting next to him and taking his free hand in both of hers. Isabel gave a small hiss of dismay as she took in the damage to his arm, but a serene, reassuring glance from Maria enabled her to take a breath and begin.
Placing the very tips of her fingers as lightly as possible on the wounded flesh, Isabel ignored Michael's uncontrollable flinch and closed her eyes tightly in concentration. Under her ministrations, his arm began to lose its red, angry look, and she was able to place both of her hands fully on his arm to continue the healing. Finally, she let out a deep breath and opened her eyes. Michael blinked a few times and spoke for the first time in what seemed like days. "Thanks," he said hoarsely.
"You're welcome," Isabel answered, trying to smile.
Maria looked around at her concerned friends before turning back to Michael. "Do you feel up to talking about it?" she asked.
"Not really. But I guess we need to," he answered shortly.
"I think we could all use an explanation," put in Max. Although he didn't mean to, he came off as somewhat officious, and Michael bristled.
"Sure," Maria said, running her fingers across the back of Michael's hand in a soothing motion. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. What did Michael do to his arm? And what happened to you two just now?" asked Max, concern evident in his voice.
"Oh, that. Michael was showing me something, a vision or whatever, and I'm not used to it. I just got a little lightheaded, that's all. I think I forgot to eat lunch or something."
"Lightheaded?" protested Liz. "Maria, you almost fainted."
"Well, I didn't, and I'm fine." The corners of Maria's lips twitched as she heard Michael's usual response issuing from her own mouth. She shot an amused glance over at him. "We're both fine, aren't we, Michael?"
He looked back at her solemnly and spoke in a low voice. "Who's got the limited vocabulary now?" She smiled at him, her eyes shining.
"What happened to your arm, Michael?" asked Isabel. Maria could feel the alien stiffen even before his eyes shuttered right in front of them. He was so not ready to share the real explanation and have to ride out the ensuing fracas, that was for sure. Fine. Well, she would support him, whatever it took. They would just keep this one thing back from the others until he was ready to deal with it, no matter how long it took. So what if they were angry when they eventually found out? Liz would forgive them once she understood why, and Alex wouldn't even--
She swallowed as she realized. Oh, god. Alex already knew. He was there when she'd blurted everything out to Michael. She lifted panicked eyes to meet her friend's, wordlessly begging him to understand.
"Well, Michael?" demanded Max. "What happened?" Eyes flickering around the room as if trapped, Michael reluctantly opened his mouth to answer.
"Grease fire," said Alex unexpectedly. "He was making one of those awful Tabasco-laced dishes that you all seem to love so much, and spilled some cooking oil on the stove. It went up in flames. Right, Michael?"
For a split second, Michael stared at Alex in dumb shock before pulling himself together enough to nod mutely.
"And of course rather than getting it taken care of," Maria corroborated, "Spaceboy here had to ignore it for a few days to let it get really nasty-looking." Glancing at Alex, she tried to convey her gratitude.
"You should have come to us before now," Max lectured sternly. "Let us help you a little more often, will you?" Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked around at the small group of friends clustered in Maria's living room. "Well, since you're both all right and we've gotten that bit of excitement over for the day, maybe we can get back to the whole reason we're here in the first place. We need to continue last night's discussion."
Maria jumped to her feet, pulling her fingers from Michael's. "Let's do this over dinner, okay? You've all got to be starving. I'll get some drinks--someone call for pizza." Bustling out of the room, she got some glasses out of a kitchen cabinet, then leaned her forehead wearily against the refrigerator.
Suddenly, it had all seemed too much to bear, and she had felt an intense need to flee. Was this how Michael always felt? Was his tendency to run, to not get involved, due more to being overwhelmed by everything and less to a need to hide his alien nature? She was amazed that he was still among them. If she were Michael, she'd have left Roswell long ago.
Sensing someone behind her, she quickly jerked the refrigerator door open and pulled out some juice and a few cans of soda.
"Are you all right, Maria?" Liz said quietly.
Maria's response was casual. "Yeah, I'm fine." Oops. There was that word again. "I just want to get everything together so we don't have any interruptions during our talk, that's all."
"I don't buy that," Liz told her. "Your reaction to this vision thing was awfully strong. You looked completely shaken."
"I'm okay, I promise. It was just the surprise of Michael letting me into his warped brain," she joked. Then she realized what she had just said. Dropping the drinks on the counter, she bolted for the living room with a confused Liz right behind her.
Maria ignored the startled looks from the room's occupants and threw herself onto Michael's lap, bursting into tears. He held her stiffly, asking in an urgent tone, "What is it? What happened?" as he awkwardly patted her back. She shook her head, smiling as she cried. Reaching up, he wiped the tears off her face with an unsteady palm. "Don't."
"I'm not crying. I'm happy," she told him as the tears continued to roll down her face. "And it's all your fault, Spaceboy."
He tensed. "What did I do now?" he asked guardedly.
"Nothing, you didn't do anything," she hiccuped. Looking at his confused expression, she laughed and corrected herself. "Actually, yes. Yes, you did do something. You let me in, Michael. Don't you see? You let me see you."
"Yeah, I know, but...oh." An expression of realization crossed his face.
"No stone wall!" she chortled joyfully. "I mean, I was so caught up with what I saw that I didn't even realize. You let me in!" Tightening her arms around his neck, she pressed her cheek against his, grinning like a complete idiot.
It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't hugging her back. Keeping her arms loosely around his neck, she pulled back slightly. His expression was wary. "Just exactly what did you see?" he demanded.
"You don't know?"
"I didn't see anything. I was trying to make you see, remember?" he shot back. "So what did you see?" The nervousness in his voice belied his stony expression.
She hesitated for a moment as she ran through the memory in her head, then replied, "I'll tell you later, when it's just you and me, okay? I...I don't think everybody needs to know." His jaw tightened as he imagined what she might have picked up from him.
"What do you mean, we don't need to know?" asked Isabel. "I thought we were done with secrets."
"Yeah, well, some things are private," Maria answered.
"But if you saw--"
"I saw what I saw because Michael chose to let me see it. And if he wants you to know, fine, you all can play show and tell. But until then, you are not going to bug him about it. No questions, got that?" she said protectively.
Michael frowned. "What are you, my keeper? Let them ask. I'll answer if I want to." She bristled and glared at him.
Without a word, Alex and Liz exchanged speaking glances and headed out of the room, pulling Max and Isabel behind them. Maria barely noticed them go.
"Fine, Michael. Then while we're on the subject, there's one thing I need to ask, and even if you don't want to, I need you to answer."
He looked at her, half-afraid of what was to come, before sliding her off his lap and crossing to the window. As soon as she spoke, he turned abruptly away and shut his eyes as if to ward the question off. "Michael, what was that voice?"
His voice was hoarse. "What voice?"
"When we dreamwalked you the last time, I heard a voice in the distance. I couldn't make out what it was saying, but it sounded...familiar somehow. And it frightened me. Isabel heard it too." She swallowed. "When you gave me those visions, I heard it again. Michael...it called you a killer."
His face was blank, and could have been set in stone for all the animation in it. "I am one."
Rising to her feet, she spit out an angry protest. "You are not a killer, Michael. I don't care who tells you that, don't you believe them. You did what you had to do, to save Sheriff Valenti and the rest of us. That's all. You protected us. You're always protecting us." She studied him. "What is the voice, Michael?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "It doesn't tell me that."
"Do you...How often do you hear it?"
His forehead wrinkled as he let out a small burst of humorless laughter. "How often? Try all the time."
"What?"
"It's always there, in the back of my head, telling me things. Ever since I've been back, it's been there."
"And before then--it was in your dreams, where Isabel and I heard it?" she asked in a small voice.
He shifted uncomfortably, but answered. "Yeah." Maria's face wrinkled in concern, and he told her, "Don't worry about it. I can handle it."
"You have too much to handle as it is, Michael. How is it that you're still sane?"
He ran unsteady fingers through his hair. "Sane? Who says I am?" He focused for a moment on the ceiling, then swung his gaze around the room, looking at anything but the girl on the couch. The words began to pour from his mouth. "Half the time I think I'm going crazy, the other half I'm pretty sure I already am. I mean, I have two complete sets of memories for the same month of my life. I can remember being here, and I can remember being in wherever that room was, all at the same time, and my brain can hardly hang on to it. Add to that the constant barrage from the voice in my head, and the fact that I keep losing track of where I am--I'll be sitting there and the next thing you know it's ten minutes later and I have no idea what happened--Hell, no. There's no way I am anywhere remotely approaching sane."
"Well, for god's sake don't sign yourself into the asylum yet, buddy," Maria said stoutly. "You've been through an awful lot lately, stuff that would throw anybody. Put all that on top of some of the other things I saw--" He tensed, but she continued, "I wouldn't worry about being crazy if I were you. I'd be pretty darn proud to have pulled through things as well as you have."
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Michael turned once more to the window and stared out. Crossing, Maria stood behind him. "You do know that they'll have to be told eventually, don't you?" She could practically feel him wanting to expurgate that particular notion, but went on firmly. "Not everything. Just like I told Isabel, some things are private. But at some point, they'll need to know that you're back." A smile bloomed on her face. "Can you believe how great Alex was, not letting on? I mean, c'mon, a grease fire? Max couldn't argue with it, because the same thing happened to his mother last year. You've got to hand it to Alex, he's always the guy with the quick save."
"Yeah." His voice was low.
"He's a good friend, is Alex. And I will be too. I'll be there for you, you know? I mean, I'd like to talk about it sometime, about what's happened to you, and about what I saw...I'll try not to push you, though. But I'll be around if you need to talk or something." She smiled. "I'll make a deal with you--you watch my back and I'll watch yours."
"You shouldn't have to deal with my problems," he muttered.
Flinging her hands into the air, Maria let out a shriek of frustration. "Michael, that's what friends do. They care about each other. It's what the six of us are all about. So are we agreed? I'll let you help me and you'll let me help you?"
"I...I don't know if I can." She turned away, disappointed. A quiet voice stopped her. "I'll try," he said hesitantly. "But don't expect too much. I'm not good at that kind of stuff. Letting people...help."
Relieved, she felt a grin attach itself to her face. "Well, not everybody's perfect, Michael. Which is okay. I mean, if I wanted perfection I wouldn't be hanging out with you, would I? I'd be...I'd be...well, actually, I'd be pretty much out of luck trying to find someone to meet those standards, don't you think? So stop being so hard on yourself already. You're only human."
"But I'm not," he pointed out.
"Yes you are," she answered fervently. "In all the ways that matter, you are. And that's not such a bad thing to be, Michael."
TBC...