CHAPTER 35
Shaking, Maria wrapped her arms around herself and waited for Michael to unlock his apartment door. Reaction was finally setting in, and she shivered as she thought about the danger she could have been in. Why had she been so quick to head out into the night by herself? She didn't want to live her life in fear, but common sense should have kicked in before she got three steps out of the house. Anything could have happened to her. She grimaced--Michael's paranoia was beginning to rub off.
Shutting the door behind them, Michael pointed her towards the couch and she sank down onto it. Without looking at her, he pulled a faded blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it to her. She wrapped it around herself, snuggled into it and tried to stop shaking. She watched as Michael tossed his jacket on the kitchen counter and ran a hand through his hair before heading towards his phone. He looked particularly tense.
Avoiding her eyes, he dialed. It was picked up halfway through the first ring. "Maria?" Liz said anxiously.
"She's fine."
"Thank God," she breathed in relief. Michael could hear voices in the background, and then Liz saying, "Michael found her. He says she's fine." Isabel said something unintelligible, just barely loud enough to hear her frustration and not the words, and then Liz was back speaking with him. "So where are you?"
He gripped the phone tightly before replying, "My place."
"Well, are you bringing her back here, or do you want us to come pick her up?"
"No."
There was a moment of silence on the other end before Liz said, "Michael?"
He shot a quick glance at Maria, then turned away from her. "If you can get her out of here, she's all yours," he said into the phone. "But I don't think she's gonna--"
The receiver was taken out of his hand. He turned to see Maria standing there, still enveloped in the blanket. "Liz?" she said. "I'm fine, okay?" A moment of silence as she listened to her friend. "No, I wanted to come here. It feels safe, you know?" She listened again. "No, you don't need to come. Believe me, I'm perfectly all right. Our Czechoslovakian knight errant was back on the job, wasn't he?" Evidently Liz was still not satisfied, because Maria continued, "Fine, come over if you want. Bring the whole gang. Bring the whole town if you want to. But if you're coming over just to yell at me for being stupid, I think you'll have to get in line," she finished with a sigh, studying Michael's taut expression. "Okay, see you in a bit."
She replaced the receiver and looked up at Michael for a moment before crossing back to the couch and plopping down. "They're coming over," she said unnecessarily, since he'd been standing right there the whole conversation. Wordlessly, Michael crossed over to the counter and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest. He didn't speak.
Maria watched him. He was obviously struggling to keep a rein on his anger, and she wished he'd just go ahead and say whatever it was he had to say and get it over with. Kind of like ripping a Band-Aid off really quick. But she wasn't going to prod him into it--after all, she had promised she wouldn't make a sound, hadn't she? And she was going to do her darndest to keep that promise. At least until the others got there. That is, unless he spoke first.
But of course, he didn't, so she just sat there wrapped in the blanket, looking at him. Well, there were worse things. After all, she could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere...
A frown appeared on her expressive face, causing a matching one on Michael's. "What?" he said roughly.
Maria's only answer was a half-hearted shrug. Michael immediately knew what she was doing. "You know your little vow of silence isn't going to last," he told her. "So you might as well talk."
She looked at him indignantly and kept her mouth shut.
"You only promised you wouldn't talk so you wouldn't bother me, and I'd let you come here, remember? Well, surprise! You're not talking, and you're bothering me anyway. You got what you wanted--you're here, aren't you? So say something already!"
"And just what do you expect me to say?" she asked icily.
"How about an explanation of why the hell you were out there in the first place?" he shouted in exasperation.
"Well, obviously because I thought you wanted me to meet you there!" she shouted back. "I actually thought you wanted to talk! Stupid, huh?" She gave a bitter little laugh and clutched the blanket even tighter, as if it were a security blanket. Or her flannel sheep pajamas.
"For god's sake, I've been busting my ass trying to keep you out of trouble! Why the hell would I want you to put yourself in danger by waiting for me in a deserted park?"
She tried to defend herself. "Well, the note--"
His voice was even louder as he cut her off. "And that's another thing. How could you think I'd leave you a note in your locker like that? I mean, I know I'm not all Mr. Sensitive Wuss like Max or Alex--hell, Kyle Valenti probably ranks higher on that scale than I do--but for christ's sake, even I wouldn't be stupid enough to do that to you!"
"I know that, Michael, I do. I just..." Her voice trailed off and he couldn't make out what she mumbled.
"You just what?" he snapped.
She raised miserable eyes to his. "I wanted it to have been from you," she admitted softly. "I really wanted it."
He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, his anger deflated by her honesty. He understood what she meant. "I know," he told her. "But I can't...I'm not...Hell, I suck at this," he said, half to himself. Rubbing a hand across his face, he began to pace across the tiny room. His voice was hesitant, as if searching for words. "I'm not good at this stuff. Letting people in, I mean. There's too much I don't want anyone to see. And you--" He looked at her, then away, before continuing. "You've already seen a lot. Maybe too much. So I...push you away. I push everyone away. And..." He stopped pacing and stared down at his hands. "And I don't know if that will ever change."
Maria bit down on her lip. Whether or not he realized it, this was about as open and honest as she'd ever seen him. She spoke, not to reassure him or let him off the hook, but from the heart. "I know you're an intensely private person, Michael. You've had to be. And I don't mean to push you to do things you're not comfortable with, really I don't. I'm not asking you to tell me everything. You don't even have to tell me anything. Just...just don't close off completely, okay?"
He was still focused down on his hands. For a moment she thought he'd gone off into another trance-like state. Then he spoke, eyes downcast. His voice was harsh and regretful at the same time. "I can't promise that. I can't promise anything."
"I don't need a promise, Michael. Just think about it, that's all. And if you feel like I'm putting too much pressure on you, don't pull away from me, okay? Just tell me, and I'll stop." Understanding how acutely uncomfortable he was, she went on in a lighter tone. "Like now, for instance. That's enough serious talk, don't you think? So..." She looked around the room for inspiration. "Seen any good hockey games lately?"
He lifted his head and stared at her, disarmed by her sudden change of mood. "You're kidding me. You are actually trying to start a conversation about hockey?" Collapsing onto the far end of the couch, he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You're seriously warped, you know that. I don't know if it's 'cause you're human, or what, but I just don't get you."
A twinkle began to shine in Maria's eyes. "You don't?" she asked innocently.
He rolled his head over to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Nope."
"You're right. You don't get me," she drawled. Ha! If only Liz were here to see her. Now this was flirting. She smiled saucily and added, "Well, not unless you're very, very good."
For a split second she saw pain in his eyes and then he looked back up at the ceiling. With a sharp pang, Maria remembered. She could hear Michael clearly in her head, the day he'd killed Pierce, as he'd told Max, 'You're good and I'm bad.' Shit. Oh, shit shit shit. In one movement she was on her knees next to him on the couch. She placed one hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Michael? I didn't mean it like that." He didn't look at her. "I was just trying to...be funny, I guess, and I didn't think. I am so sorry."
"No problem," he said in a low voice, not looking at her.
"It is a problem. A big problem. And the biggest problem of all is my big fat mouth. I am really, really sorry."
He shrugged it off, but she was still angry with herself. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Michael," she began.
He turned his head towards her. "Will you shut up already?"
"But I--" His mouth descending on hers cut her off short. A split second of shock and then she returned his kiss, reveling in the sorely-missed feeling of his lips on hers. Her hands crept up to cradle his shoulders and he put his arms around her and began to pull her closer...
...only to spring backwards from her, half falling off the couch at the sound of a knock on the door and a rattle of the door handle. By the time the door was open, he was standing on the other side of the room, trying to look casual and failing miserably. At least from Maria's perspective. The four people who entered didn't seem to notice anything.
"'Ria!" cried Liz, rushing to her side. She put her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly in relief.
"It's okay, Lizzy. I mean, I'm okay," babbled Maria, unsure of whether she was more shaken from the kiss or from its being so abruptly broken off. "No harm done."
"No thanks to you," put in Isabel fiercely. "I shouldn't have let you go on your own in the first place."
What? Maria bristled and stood. "You don't let me do anything, Isabel. I do what I want to do, and I'll take responsibility for it." Her chin rose defiantly. "I'm sorry for worrying you all. It was my mistake, and I apologize. But frankly, I think I've been yelled at enough already, thank you very much."
Four pairs of eyes shot over to Michael, who stood uneasily in the corner. "You yelled at her, huh?" asked Alex, repressing a grin.
That wasn't all he'd done. Michael's jaw clenched, and he managed a gruff "Yeah."
"Way to go, man." Alex let his grin out, ignoring Maria's vexed look. "Nice to have you back."
Michael blinked a few times, not quite sure of how to respond.
Max focused on the sulky blonde. "No yelling," he promised, "since Michael's evidently taken care of that already. But can we at least talk about it?"
Maria nodded contritely. "Yeah." She sat back down on the couch. Liz settled beside her, holding her hand, and the others took places nearby. Except for Michael, who remained standing stubbornly in place.
"Liz said you got another note," Max prompted.
"Yeah, I did." Maria reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Max.
Isabel leaned over to read it with him. "This isn't even Michael's handwriting," she pointed out. "It's way too neat."
Maria flushed. "Well, how should I know that? We're not pen pals. I mean, I've gotten exactly one note from him, with the napkin holder he made. And that was printed pretty neatly."
"What exactly does it say?" Alex asked. "I'm out of the loop on this one, remember?"
Isabel read the note aloud.
We need to talk. Meet me at the
swings in the park at 9:00.
--M
She burst into laughter. "Yes, I suppose it's abrupt enough to sound like Michael, but really, Maria. M? Give me a break."
"I think you're missing the point here," said Liz. "Someone wanted to get Maria into the park for some reason, and knew enough to use Michael to do it. That's scary."
"But there wasn't anyone there," objected Maria. "I didn't see anyone, did you, Michael?"
He shook his head. "Didn't see anything, didn't feel anything."
"So what if the point wasn't to get you there, but to get you away from someplace else?" said Alex slowly.
"Like where? I wasn't working, and until I got the note this afternoon I wasn't supposed to spend the night at Liz's. I was just going to be home." Maria turned white. "My mother," she blurted. "What if--?" She scrambled towards Michael's phone and dialed her own number with shaking fingers. "Come on, pick up, pick up," she muttered, gripping the receiver tightly.
"Mom?" she said, her voice cracking in relief. "Yeah, yeah, it's me. Ummm, no I'm still spending the night at Liz's," she said, avoiding looking either Liz or Michael in the eye. "I just...I was just calling to tell you..." she looked around, searching her mind for a reasonable excuse.
A wave from Isabel brought her attention to the taller girl, who mouthed the words "The Jetta" at her. Maria shook her head and mouthed "What?" back, and Isabel repeated the phrase, along with a few car-driving gestures thrown in. A look of comprehension appeared on Maria's face. "I was calling to tell you about the Jetta," Maria said into the phone. She listened for a moment and then repeated her mother's question. "Yeah, I know it's in the driveway, so what did I want to tell you about it?"
Isabel gestured again--a steering wheel and then a big thumbs-up, Alex-style. "It's working?" blurted Maria, startled. "I mean, yeah, Mom, it's working. My friend Max was able to fix it." She listened for a minute, and then laughed. "Okay, I'll tell him when I see him. See you tomorrow, Mom."
Plunking the receiver down, she turned to Max. "Congratulations! For fixing the Jetta, you are the proud recipient of an Amy DeLuca homemade pie, your choice of flavors. She thinks you're great. Thanks, Max."
"You're welcome," he answered. "I'm glad I could help. But half of it goes to Michael--he helped me with it. Plus it was his idea in the first place."
Maria's eyes brightened at this piece of information. "Actually, there's no need to share," she said, then turned to Michael. "My mom said there'd be one waiting for Mr. Chivalry here, too." For the first time since he'd kissed her, he met her eyes squarely. She smiled at him, then moved back to the couch. "So," she said, pulling the subject back to the note. "Nothing's wrong at home, and there wasn't any trap waiting in the park. So why send me the note in the first place?"
Everyone mulled it over, but no one came to a good answer.
"Maybe someone just wanted you to get some fresh air," joked Alex finally. "You know, thought you'd been stuck indoors too long. Or maybe they just have a swing fetish."
"Fantastic," snorted Maria. "Note to self: avoid parks, playgrounds, and trees with tire swings." She looked around. "Well, whatever their plan was, I'm thinking it didn't work, right? Everything seems okay."
"We have no way of knowing what the note was trying to accomplish; it's not giving us any clues," Liz pointed out. "Unless one of you wants to try and get a vision from it," she said to the three aliens.
"It's worth a try. But Michael's the best at it," said Max supportively. "How about it, Michael?"
Maria turned to look at the spiky-haired alien, inwardly pleased that he was still watching her. Or wait--no, he wasn't. His eyes were fixated on something just past her, and he wasn't moving, just breathing shallowly. "He's gone again," she reported. "Michael?"
He didn't respond, and she scrambled off the couch and over to him. She said his name again, reaching out to touch his cheek gently, so as not to startle him. It took a moment, but eventually he blinked and focused on her. His eyes were haunted.
"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay?" She knew what he would say, that he was fine.
He didn't.
Moving to the kitchenette, he turned on the cold water and splashed his face before pulling up the hem of his shirt and using it to dry off. Then, bracing his hands on the counter, he leaned forward for a moment, trying to collect himself before he had to face them all.
Finally he turned, his arms folded across his chest and his face closed off.
"Michael," Max began. "I don't want to push you about this. I mean, I never know where the dividing line is with you anymore. But that's the third time today you've...zoned out like that. What's going on? Is something wrong?"
Michael looked around at the others. Three faces, like Max's, showed concern and worry. The fourth showed only support and determination. He tore his eyes away from Maria's and tried not to feel like he was an insect pinned up for study. Maybe this would be easier if he didn't actually look at them. "Yeah. Something's wrong," he managed, only to have his throat close off and block any other words.
"What? Are you sick? Is it like before?" Isabel burst out, moving to his side. "Please let us help you, Michael," she begged. He closed his eyes. Isabel shouldn't have to sound like that. She was strong and proud; she shouldn't have to sound so upset. He swallowed.
"Not like before," he said hoarsely. "It...it just happens. Ever since I came back." He lifted his eyes. Maria nodded at him. He went on, a little less hesitantly, "I lose track of what's going on or where I am. And when I come out of it, time has passed without my knowing it."
"How much time?" asked Liz.
"Depends. A few minutes maybe. Longer sometimes. And once..." Michael swallowed again. "The first time it happened, it was a day and a half."
Alex put two and two together. "That was why you didn't watch Maria, and why you weren't in school on Monday," he stated.
"Yeah."
"I knew there had to be a good reason. You wouldn't just give up, not when you were that determined about something," the teen said in satisfaction.
"Do you think it's physical?" Liz asked. "Maybe it's a chemical imbalance or something."
Isabel leapt on this. "If it's an imbalance, we need to use the balancing stones again. They helped before."
"Michael, would you let me scan you?" asked Max. "Maybe I can tell something from that."
Michael looked Max in the eye, obviously hating this idea. What he saw there evidently reassured him somewhat; he assented, though somewhat unwillingly. As Max crossed to him, he heard Michael mutter, "But you're not going to find anything in there." Max wasn't sure if he was supposed to overhear, so didn't respond.
Standing in front of his reluctant friend, Max put his hands out and made the connection. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense what was wrong. The others remained silent. A few minutes later, Max opened his eyes.
"Well, Dr. Evans, what's the diagnosis?" quipped Alex.
Max looked at Michael. "I don't think anything's physically wrong that can't be blamed on not getting enough sleep," he told him.
Michael's eyes narrowed. "But..." he prompted.
"But I felt something else. Isabel, when you healed Michael's arm you said that he felt 'shadowed'. I felt it too."
"I thought we decided that was the other Michael," Liz mused. "No, wait," she corrected herself. "That was because we didn't know Michael was himself again. But he was by that point."
Maria watched Michael in concern. This was a lot for him. Maybe it was time to do what she'd promised and back off a little, taking the others with her. "I think this discussion can wait until later, don't you? I mean, he seems okay. And it's been a long day. I for one am very tired."
Isabel looked at her in shock. "How can you say that he seems okay? We don't know what's going on, why this keeps happening. God, Michael didn't give up on helping you just because he was tired. I can't believe you would. So much for caring about someone, huh?"
Maria bit her lip, but refused to defend herself or explain her real motives. She just shrugged, accepting the rebuke.
"No," said Michael abruptly. "She doesn't really think that. She's just trying to make this easier on me." The others turned to him. "I knew you wouldn't find anything wrong, Max. Because the problem isn't physical. It's something else altogether."
TBC...