CHAPTER 44
He came to, confused, his head swimming. Everything hurt. God, was Hank at it again? He had to get up, then. There was nothing his foster father liked more than a helpless target. One hand was caught under him; he tried to brace it and use it to push upwards, but didn't get very far. Something was pinning him to the floor. The ringing in his ears died down a little, though, and he began to hear a babble of voices.
Not Hank this time. Hank was gone, and he was on his own. A moment later he remembered where he was, what had happened. Maria. Was she all right? He felt the weight on top of him getting lighter as the flats were moved aside, and he realized that someone was holding his outstretched hand, gripping it tightly. He knew who it was, too. He could hear her, repeating his name in a panic-stricken voice.
He let out a deep breath. She was okay, then. He closed his fingers around hers.
The final flat was lifted off, and Ms. Bedinger crouched down by his head. She spoke in a worried tone. "Michael? Don't move. You've hit your head."
"'S okay. Got the wind knocked out of me, that's all," he lied. Maria clutched his hand even more tightly, as if she knew he wasn't telling the truth. Pulling his hand roughly from her grasp, he rolled onto his back and squinted against the glare of the stage lights. "Just gimme a minute."
Feet pounded down the aisle, and a voice called out, "No one's there. The school nurse already left."
Michael could've sworn he heard the drama teacher mutter, "Damn," under her breath. Then again, it could've been his ears ringing. "We'll call the paramedics," Ms. Bedinger decided.
No. No doctors. They'd been lucky when Max had the car accident; they couldn't chance it again. "I'm okay," he said groggily, pushing himself to a sitting position before looking at the teacher. His vision swam, and he was pretty sure there were two of her. He ignored it, and managed a very unaccustomed, rather crooked grin. "I've got a hard head. I'm fine."
The teacher disagreed. "You hit your head; you could have a concussion. And in the absence of a parent, I'm required to call for help."
Panic rose in him. He had to get out of there, before they found out, before he was caught..."No doctors!"
"I'm afraid it's not your decision, Michael," Ms. Bedinger told him.
Alex's voice, firm and unwavering, broke through Michael's panic. "Actually, it is. He's an emancipated minor. He has the legal right to make his own medical decisions." What do you know. Whitman to the rescue. Seeing right to the problem and dealing with it. Covering for him. Again.
Ms. Bedinger protested again, but Michael put paid to the discussion. Brushing aside all the helping hands, he rose to his feet and stood there, willing himself not to sway. Or pass out. He couldn't allow himself to show any weakness. "I'm fine," he said again.
"But your head--"
He put his hand up to it and immediately regretted it. Gritting his teeth, he waited for the world to stop spinning. "I'll go put some ice on it or something. I'll be fine." He took a few steps towards the side of the stage. A small part of him took the time to be amazed at his steadiness. The rest of him--which hopefully wasn't showing--fought the urge to collapse.
"I can't let you leave without making sure you're okay," Ms. Bedinger insisted.
"What if he agrees to see his personal physician?" Alex spoke again. "Since you can't legally keep him here," he reminded the teacher.
"Michael?" Ms. Bedinger asked. "Do you promise you'll go straight to your doctor's?"
He started to nod but decided that wasn't a very good idea either. "Yeah," he said.
She still looked uncertain, and he made up her mind for her. Ignoring her protests, he headed towards the side door. He'd just take off. What was she gonna do? Tie him up?
"Michael!" Maria cried out. He didn't turn around.
Unexpectedly, Kyle Valenti spoke. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets there," he said, heading after Michael, who was still moving doggedly towards freedom.
Michael vaguely heard Ms. Bedinger calling, "I expect to hear from you when you get to the doctor's!" before the door swung shut behind him. He put out a hand to brace himself against the wall. The door swung back open and he turned his head reflexively. Ouch. Too fast.
Beside him, Kyle said, "I'll get my car and meet you at the back door," and took off running down the hall. Trying not to jar his head, Michael slowly made it to the door in question. Sure enough, there was Kyle's red convertible. Wordlessly, the alien got in, pulled the door shut and fastened his seatbelt before leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
"So I take it we're not going to a doctor," Kyle said as he pulled away from the curb.
"Can't. Our blood is different," Michael said.
"Oh." Kyle seemed to muse about that for a moment. "Where then?"
"My place." Michael gave him the address and then was silent.
"Are you really okay?" asked Kyle.
Michael opened his eyes and carefully turned his head in Kyle's direction. "Not unless there's really two of you."
"I could call my dad."
"No." His eyes closed again.
The obvious answer hit Kyle. "Max! He healed me. We'll call Max."
"You don't need to," Michael told him.
"Why? Does he already know? Do you guys read minds or something?" Kyle asked nervously.
"No, we don't read minds or something," Michael echoed in a sarcastic voice. "Maria's already called him."
"How do you know that?" asked Kyle.
Michael's voice was low. "I know Maria." He lapsed back into silence.
A short while later, Kyle pulled up to the curb in front of Michael's apartment building. The alien braced himself, and managed to get out of the car. He was surprised to see Kyle hop out as well. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to make sure you manage to get in all right," said the athlete.
"I don't need your help."
"Look Guerin, you're barely standing upright."
"You can't leave your car there. It's a no parking zone."
"So I'll get my dad to fix the ticket."
Michael opened his mouth to protest again, and then decided he wasn't in any shape to care, much less to argue about it. "Fine," he said ungraciously, and led the way into the apartment building. He reeled a little going up the steps, but managed to make it to the top under his own steam. Arriving at his apartment, he pulled out his key and held it out to Kyle. "You do it. Can't see the lock clearly," he mumbled, then stumbled over and collapsed on the couch once the door was open. Kyle followed and stood over him, looking down in concern.
"If you've got a concussion, you're not supposed to fall asleep," the football player instructed.
Michael opened one eye. "You have them often?" he asked.
"No. I just remember it from first aid. You were in the class too," Kyle pointed out.
Michael was about to make a rather snide remark when the door burst open on its hinges and Isabel rushed in, Max on her heels. Michael didn't have to look to know who it was. He smirked. "Told you," he said to Kyle, and then the two aliens were upon him.
"Oh my god, Michael!" Isabel cried out. "Are you all right?"
"I just had my head caved in, Izzy. Do I look all right?" he shot back.
"Well, it can't be too bad, if you're going to be your usual charming self," she responded.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her double image. "Why don't the two of you go away and let Max take a look?"
"The two of us?" she said in confusion.
"He took a good crack to the head. He's seeing double," Kyle explained.
Max knelt beside the couch, frowning. "Hold still, Michael."
"Not really planning to move anytime soon, Maxwell," Michael said evenly. Max placed his hand gently on the side of Michael's head and began the healing process. Michael kept his eyes open. The moment his double vision pulled together into a single image, he pushed Max's hand away. "Thanks," he told the other alien.
"But I'm not done yet," Max protested.
"Yes, you are."
Max's brow wrinkled. "Michael, what's this about? If you don't want me to heal you, Isabel can--" Max was interrupted.
"What the hell's the matter with you? I'm the one who got knocked out, so why am I the only one thinking straight?" barked Michael. He cautiously sat up, and then relaxed as his dizziness didn't return. "Look, Max, a whole bunch of people saw those flats land on me. It's gonna look pretty suspicious if I don't have so much as a scratch."
Isabel shouldered Max aside and took Michael's chin in her hand. "You're going to have a black eye," she told him, studying the abrasions on his temple.
"Won't be the first one." He swatted her hand gently away.
She sat on the couch next to him. "So what happened? All Maria said was that the set fell on you and you were hurt, and we should get over here."
"Yeah."
"Yeah?" Her voice rose.
"Yeah, that's what happened." He started to run a hand through his hair, but thought better of it.
"That's not the whole story," put in Kyle. "Man, I've never seen anyone move that fast! You play basketball, Guerin? We could use you on the team."
"Will someone please tell me what happened?" yelled Isabel.
Michael shrugged. "I saw the flats going down, and she was in the way. So I pushed her out of the way."
"And she's okay?"
"Of course she's okay. Do you think I'd let anything happen to her?" he asked crossly.
"Well, not on purpose, of course," Isabel admitted. "But this didn't sound like the--" She cut off, looking at Kyle. "I mean, it was an accident, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. A couple of the guys were goofing around and pushed me into the flats. I knocked them over," explained Kyle. "It was an accident. We didn't mean for it to happen."
"And she's fine," Max stated.
Michael leaned forward, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. "Yeah. Why? Did she say she wasn't, when she called you?"
"Wait a minute," Kyle broke in. "I'm confused here. When who called you?"
"Maria," Max answered shortly.
"Why wouldn't she be fine?"
Michael looked at him for a moment before dropping his eyes to the floor. "I pushed her kind of hard," he admitted.
Kyle shook his head. "Wait--you think it was Maria who you pushed out of the way? She was on the other side of the stage. The girl you saved was Melanie."
Michael blinked. Melanie? He'd risked exposure for the girl who'd been threatening Maria? His head began to pound.
Isabel was incredulous. "All this time, and you can't tell Maria from another girl? She is not going to be pleased to hear that, Michael."
Michael shook his head, racking his brain to remember exactly what had happened. He'd been watching those guys kidding Valenti, and then the flats had been falling, and he'd caught one brief glimpse of blonde hair...He'd just assumed it was her. He didn't consider that it could've been someone else. He'd just reacted. He spoke testily. "What did you want me to do, Izzy? Ask the set politely to stop falling so I could check out who it was? There wasn't time."
"No matter who it was, or who he thought it was, it was a pretty damn nervy thing to do," Kyle pointed out. "He came out of it fine, thanks to Max. But who knows what those flats would have done to someone more fragile?"
"You mean someone less hard-headed," grumbled Isabel, but she put her arms around Michael and hugged him. "I'm glad you're okay," she added.
Michael pushed her arms away, embarrassed at her display of affection. "Cut it out, Iz."
"I will if you lie down for a while. Your head is probably going to start aching," she said.
"Start?" he said wryly, then grew a little more sarcastic. "Fine, I'll lie down. I'll rest. Thank you all for coming. Have a swell trip back home."
"You have to call Ms. Bedinger," Kyle reminded him.
Michael pounced on the first excuse he could think of. "Don't have the phone number."
"I told her you'd call her."
"Yeah, well, you also told her you'd get me to the doctor, and we all know you didn't do that either. Get over it."
Isabel seized the opportunity. "They're still at rehearsal, aren't they? Call on Maria's cell phone."
Michael's brow furrowed. "No."
"I swear, Michael, you are going to drive me insane! Just talk to the girl already."
Max and Michael spoke at the same time.
"Let him be, Isabel."
"You know I can't."
"Look," said Kyle, "if you won't call, I will." He headed over to the phone. "So who's got Maria's phone number?"
Max and Isabel looked directly at Michael. He rolled his eyes but recited the number. Kyle looked at him curiously as he dialed. "Eidetic memory," Michael said gruffly. Kyle looked doubtfully at him until the call was answered. He didn't even have a chance to say hello before Maria started asking frantic questions.
"No, it's Kyle," the football player said into the phone. "He's fine. Yeah, Max fixed him up." He listened for a moment. "Hold on," he said, then held the phone out to Michael, who folded his arms across his chest and refused to take it. "Uh, Maria? Actually, he's still got a bit of a headache, so he's lying down right now. He can't talk."
She must have expressed some agitation, because he continued, "Calm down, DeLuca. I told you he's fine. Now put Ms. Bedinger on, will you? Ms. Bedinger? Kyle Valenti. Yeah, he got patched up. There's nothing wrong, no concussion or anything. He'll probably have a black eye, though. He's just supposed to get some rest and he'll be fine. Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell him."
He hung up the phone and turned to Michael. "Ms. Bedinger says she's glad you're okay. And Maria was a little pissed that you didn't want to talk to her."
Michael shrugged. "She'll get over it."
"If you say so." Kyle hesitated. "Look, Guerin," he said finally, "I'm sorry about this whole thing. We shouldn't have been horsing around backstage, and you shouldn't have gotten hurt."
"Considering the three of us got you shot, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Valenti," Michael said brusquely. "Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna crash for a while. I'll see you guys in school tomorrow."
"All right. See you," said Kyle. With a nod to Isabel and Max, he was gone.
"Do you need anything, Michael?" Isabel asked anxiously. "Do you want us to stay for a while?"
Michael looked over at his best friend. "I'm begging you, Maxwell. Get her out of here before she goes all Florence Nightingale on me, okay?"
Max smiled. "You got it. Come on, Izzy." He grabbed her arm and pulled her, protesting, out of the apartment. The door closed behind them and Michael heard the click of the lock as Max used his powers to lock it behind them.
Letting out a deep breath, Michael stretched out on the couch. He wasn't dizzy any more, but his head was still pounding. And all for Melanie. He couldn't get over the fact that it hadn't been Maria. It should have been Maria he'd saved.
Michael kicked himself mentally. What the hell was he thinking? Of course he was glad it wasn't Maria, that she hadn't been in danger. A sick feeling rose in the pit of his stomach. He knew why he'd wanted it. A part of him had wanted to be the hero. To be worthy in her eyes. In everyone's eyes. What kind of a sick bastard was he, to want her to be in danger, just so he could look good? Maybe he was even less human than he'd thought.
He let his head fall back onto the couch. The important thing was that she wasn't hurt. That's what really counted. Not what anyone thought about him. Ruthlessly, he reminded himself that he didn't care what anyone thought. He could be as hard as he needed to be. He just had to put a little more effort into it, that was all. He'd work on that. But first he would shut his eyes and rest, just for a little while.
TBC...