CHAPTER 51
By the time dawn came there were half a dozen round crystalline rocks, in varying shades of blue, lined up on the ground in front of Michael. The excitement of actually being able to manipulate the stupid things had kept him awake, but now he sat back, tired but actually reasonably content. Picking up one last stone, he idly tossed it up and down, the repetitive movement soothing in its regularity.
It had worked. Six times. He'd actually manipulated matter six times, without blowing anything up. Once could have been a fluke, but six times? And all he'd had to do was to think of Maria. He had actually figured this out, by himself. He'd tried to think logically, had come up with a hypothesis, and had done trials to test it out. And his hypothesis had been proven. He smirked. He usually tended to go more on instinct and gut feeling, reacting to things. But no, he'd reasoned it out and set up a procedure to test it, just like any research scientist geek. Liz Parker would be proud. He could just picture her, standing in some lab and droning on about the results of his 'experiment', while a glassy-eyed Max stood by.
And in an instant, a seventh blue rock was in his hand. He blinked down at it, confused. He hadn't even been thinking about Maria--he'd been thinking about Liz.
Maybe his hypothesis wasn't so brilliant after all.
Scrambling to his feet, Michael scanned the cave for more rocks. Grabbing one, he closed his eyes and concentrated on Liz again. The result was another blue crystal. A second stone and thoughts of Max: blue crystal. Thoughts of Vice Principal Sutter, hockey and the Crashdown's Men in Blackberry pie. One blue crystal after another, tumbling transformed from his hand.
Okay, so maybe this wasn't a tie to Maria. It didn't seem tied to anything, actually. He was doing this by himself. And if he was, then he should be able to manage it any time, right? Right. Yet another rock was clutched in his hand, and he closed his eyes, this time concentrating on the rock itself, willing it to change. He tried to drum up the feeling he'd gotten when he'd healed Pierce in his dream. There he'd been manipulating human cells and this was mineral, but manipulation was manipulation, right?
Evidently not. He opened his eyes to see an irregular, gray, normal-looking rock in his palm. Shit. The only time it didn't work was when he actively tried to change one. Then nothing.
Had he lost it? He frantically dropped to his knees, picking up one of the bluish crystals. Maybe he could change it back. Moments later, he dropped it, and it rolled to join the others, unchanged. Reaching over to the sleeping bag, he placed a hand on it and attempted to change its color, not bothering to consider whether Max would really want a bright green sleeping bag. It didn't matter anyway, because it stayed a nice, boring navy blue.
His mood deflated, he stood, staring at his useless hands. Great. He could use his powers, but only when he wasn't trying to use them. And when he was successful, what could he do, anyway? Make blue rocks. Really useful talent, Guerin.
He crouched down, gathering up the stones. He'd have to stash them somewhere in the cave. He couldn't leave them outside where they might be found, and he didn't want another reminder about what a useless screw-up he was. He wanted them out of his sight.
He had his hands full of them, trying to decide where to put them, when it happened. In his hands, the pile of stones began to glow.
Stumbling back in shock, Michael tripped over the discarded sleeping bag and dropped the rocks. The light inside them went out immediately. He lay for a moment where he'd fallen; then, pushing himself to his feet, he reached out and gathered them again. It was only a moment before the light reappeared. He watched it grow, casting a mellow light that dappled the walls of the pod chamber. The stones remained as cool in his hands as the light they produced. It was calming, somehow. It seemed very natural, very right.
And then he looked over at the wall beside him, and saw it. A set of pale handprints, chest high, shining against the rock wall. He slowly approached, and the prints brightened as the light drew near. There were four of them, lined up against the wall: two larger, one medium and one smaller. One of the larger ones seemed slightly separated from the others. He dumped all the stones into his left hand, holding the pile against his chest so he wouldn't drop any of them, and reached out his right hand to cover the solitary print. His hand fit it perfectly.
Not taking his eyes off of the print, he bent and placed the stones on the ground underneath it. The moment they left his hand, the light died. He crossed to the Coleman lantern, and carried it back over, scrutinizing every last inch of the wall. Nothing. No visible handprints. They'd vanished, as if they were never really there in the first place.
Letting out a deep breath, Michael once again gathered the stones and watched them glow. The handprints reappeared, washed in the bluish light. He studied them for several very long moments before crossing over to the duffel bag he'd brought with him and rooting through it for Isabel's cell phone.
Max had a pullover sweater halfway on when the telephone rang. Unceremoniously thrusting his head through the neck hole, he crossed to the phone, pulling the sweater down as he went. Picking up the receiver, he said calmly, "Hello?" Inside, he didn't feel particularly calm, though. The last time he'd answered the phone, just last night, it had been Nasedo with a very cryptic and unsettling message.
On the other end, Michael spoke quickly. "Max. There's something you need to see."
"What's going on, Michael? Are you okay?" Max asked, concerned.
He could almost hear the excitement in his friend's voice. "Yeah. I'm fine. But some...weird stuff has happened."
"Weird? How weird? In what way?"
There was a pause on the other end, and then Michael said slowly, "I think I want you to see it for yourself, Maxwell."
"Max! Hurry up, we'll be late for school!" Isabel's voice came from the doorway.
"Is that Izzy?" Michael asked, at the same time Isabel noticed Max was on the phone, and demanded, "Is that Michael?"
"Yes, and yes," Max answered both of them.
Isabel's tone was eager. "Is he ready to come back?"
"Hold on, Michael," Max said, then turned to his sister. "I don't know, but something's up. He wants me to see what's going on." He spoke into the phone once more. "Michael? Are you still at the pod chamber?"
"Yeah."
"Do you need me to come right now? Because if not, I should go to school. I've got a test in fourth period."
Michael's voice was low when he responded. "Don't worry about it then. After school is okay. I'm not going anywhere."
Max winced, noting the disappearance of Michael's former excitement. He hadn't been trying to put the other alien off, he'd just been asking, trying to get a sense of what was happening. He knew where his priorities were, but maybe his friend didn't. Time to make it perfectly clear. "No, Michael. You are more important than a test," he stated firmly.
There was silence on the other end as Michael took that in, then, "It's all right, Max. Really," he assured him. "I think I'll try and catch a nap until you get here. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Nightmares again?" Max asked, worried.
"No. Haven't had one for a while. Not since..." Michael sounded odd. "Not since Maria was over." He paused. "I just had a lot to do. Kept me up. You'll see when you get here."
"I'll be there right after school, then."
Isabel interrupted loudly. "I'm coming, too."
"Isabel says--"
"I heard her," Michael responded in a dry tone. "But let's just keep it down to the two of you, Maxwell. There are some things we need to talk about, just the three of us."
Michael was waiting for them at the pod chamber's entrance when they arrived. He squinted into the bright light, eyes adjusting after several days mostly spent in the dim recesses of the pod chamber. Isabel held her breath as she entered, but let it out as she took in the rolled-up sleeping bag and packed duffel. He must be coming back then.
Michael actually looked a little nervous, standing there, waiting for them to broach the subject. But all he said was, "Close the door behind you."
"What's going on, Michael?" Max asked, trying to show his concern and support through his tone of voice.
Isabel didn't stand on ceremony. Crossing to her spiky-haired almost-brother, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. "We missed you, you idiot," she complained. "It seemed like forever."
"Hey," Michael objected. "Cut it out, Izzy. Do you wanna see this or not?"
Just to annoy him, she squeezed him even harder before stepping away. He didn't really seem to mind, though. Behind them, Max had finished closing off the cave, and the two siblings looked expectantly at their friend. Michael ran a nervous hand through his hair and tried to figure out where to start.
Oh, to hell with it. "I made these," he said bluntly, picking up two of the blue crystals and tossing one to each of the others. "Out of rocks." Then he waited for their reaction.
"You were able to use your powers?" Isabel exclaimed with a wide smile. "That's great!" Michael didn't bother to answer her, instead staring at Max, who was intently studying the stone he held.
"Look at them, Isabel," her brother said, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the small crystal. "Don't they look...familiar somehow?"
Isabel drew her attention away from Michael and glanced down at the stone she held. Her face wrinkled as she tried to remember where she'd seen one of them before. "Yes...yes, they do," she admitted. "What are they, Michael?"
"I don't know," he answered gruffly. "But watch." Turning down the Coleman lantern, he stooped to gather up a handful of similar stones from a pile on the chamber floor. Isabel gave a little gasp as they began to glow in Michael's hand, sending out a pale bluish light. She and Max exchanged glances, then looked back at the glowing stones.
"There's more," Michael said. Crossing to the side of the cave, he held his hands up and shone the light on the cave wall. The handprints immediately came into view. "Look," he added unnecessarily, since the other aliens were already fixed on the prints. "This one fits my hand," he explained, placing his palm against the glowing mark. Almost without volition, Max and Isabel each reached up and fitted their hands against a print. They matched perfectly.
The three aliens looked at each other in silence for a few moments, before stepping back from the cave wall. "What do you think it means?" Isabel asked in a hushed tone.
"I don't know," Michael responded. "But didn't you notice? There's a fourth handprint." He held the stones back up to illuminate the wall once more, and they all stared at the fourth, smaller print.
"Tess," Isabel breathed.
Max and Michael locked gazes. "So what should we do?" Michael asked.
"I don't know. But let's not rush into anything, Michael. There's a lot to think about here."
"Believe me, I know that," Michael answered with a snort. "I don't trust Tess Harding any more than you do. Not after last spring."
"We've got a lot to talk about, Michael. We could talk on the way back to town, if you're ready to go back."
Michael shrugged. "Yeah. I think I am. It's almost like I needed to come out here, and now that I found the prints, I'm done, you know?"
"Good!" Isabel exclaimed. "Grab your stuff then, and let's get out of here. You need some real food, Michael. And a shower," she teased, darting out of his way with a laugh. Heading towards the door, she waved her hand over the silver palm print on the wall to open it, and strode through.
Grabbing the sleeping bag and duffel, Max and Michael followed her to the chamber entrance. "I'm glad you're coming back, too, Michael," Max told his friend quietly. "Because there's something I need to talk to you about. I got a phone call last night..."
"What, Maxwell?"
Max shook his head. "In the Jeep. Isabel needs to hear this, too. It's important."
Michael nodded and began to follow Max out the entrance. Stopping abruptly, he set down the duffel and crossed back to the pile of blue stones, grabbing a handful and tucking them into his pocket. Then he headed back after his friend. Time to go back to the real world and face some things. Figure out whatever these handprints meant, listen to whatever Max had to say, go back to school, see if he still had a job after leaving town for three and a half days...and, oh, yeah. Gear himself up to deal with Maria.
Amy DeLuca was in the middle of fixing a solitary dinner the next evening when the knock came. Crossing to the kitchen door, she raised her eyebrows in involuntary surprise at the tall figure standing there. Her jaw clenched. "She's not here," she said coldly through the glass door.
"I didn't think she would be," Michael responded in a low voice. "I figured she'd be at school, getting ready for the play." He glanced uneasily away, then forced himself to meet her gaze squarely. "I came to see you."
Her forehead wrinkled with suspicion, Amy opened the door just wide enough to peer between it and the jamb. "You're not going to change my mind about letting her see you," she warned.
He shook his head. "That's not why I'm here," he told her quietly. His face remained stoic, but was that a hint of emotion in his eyes? No, she wouldn't let herself soften. Her daughter was too important, and this boy was bad news. Forget whatever momentary heroic actions he'd taken recently. Who knew what sort of trouble he could drag an unprotesting Maria into? Pregnancy, jail...or worse?
"What, then?" she snapped.
He visibly steeled himself, then blurted, "I'm staying away from her, okay? I haven't even said hello to her since--" His voice cut off, and he swallowed.
This confirmed what Maria had told her last week. Amy's eyes narrowed. There was definitely emotion in his eyes, and pain, although he obviously was trying his hardest to hide them.
"You wanted me to stay away, and I'm doing that," he forced out. "I just--" He broke off again, pausing, then rushed on, "Would you give this to her?"
For the first time, Amy noticed the paper clutched in his hand. It was rolled into a tube and fastened with a rubber band. She stared blankly at it.
"It's not a secret message or anything," he said defensively. "It's just something I kind of promised her." His chin out, he stood defiantly, daring her to doubt he'd keep his word. And somehow, she had to believe he would.
This visit, whatever it was, was obviously difficult for him, and yet here he was, facing up to a woman who couldn't possibly be his favorite person right now. Well, that was putting it mildly. He was a teenager, with all the emotional storms that brought; if he had really felt something for her daughter, he probably hated Amy now. But he was here anyway, to keep some sort of promise. And if he kept this promise, mightn't he also keep the one to stay away from Maria?
Without realizing it, she relaxed a little and allowed the door to swing open a bit more.
"I know you don't trust me, but...You can look at it. See for yourself," he offered, thrusting the paper tube through the half-open door and into her hands before taking a quick step back and jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. He started to go, and then turned back abruptly.
"Mrs. DeLuca?"
She looked up from the rolled-up paper she held, lifting her eyes to study his face.
He spoke intently. "If you decide to give it to her, do it in person, okay? Don't just leave it for her to find. She doesn't like that." His eyes, strangely vulnerable, met hers, and he blurted out one more word. "Please." Then he turned and moved swiftly towards the street and out of sight.
Amy stood motionless until the beeping of her timer brought her out of her abstraction. Hurriedly placing the paper on the counter, she set about rescuing the piece of chicken she'd been reheating before the oven charred it out of recognition. Setting the pan on top of the stove, she dropped the potholder and turned to look at Michael's little gift.
To be honest, she was torn. He'd hurt Maria on more than one occasion, most recently by totally ignoring her. Amy blocked out the little voice that reminded her that it was exactly what she had wanted, and concentrated on working up a full head of righteous indignation. She was furious with this...delinquent. She certainly didn't feel the need to do him any favors.
So why then did she keep seeing the flash of pain in his eyes when he spoke about Maria?
And what was that odd comment at the end, about Maria not liking things left for her to find?
Amy shook her head. She should just tear this...whatever it was...up and get rid of it. Her daughter need never know about it. Maria would get over the boy in time, and it would be easier if she didn't have any more little reminders of him.
But even as her brain was deciding one thing, her hands were acting on another. They carefully removed the rubber band, rolling it down the tube, and set it on the counter. They unrolled the heavy white paper and held it open, so she could fully take in what she was seeing.
Her heart thumped in her chest as she studied the sketch. It was a portrait of her daughter, her eyes shining and her mouth curved into laughter. She was wearing the silly alien antennae that she always grumbled about having to wear as part of her Crashdown uniform. And at the bottom of the page, hidden in the cross-hatching of a penciled-in shadow from Maria's collar, Amy could just make out two tiny initials: MG.
She blinked. That...that delinquent was capable of this? Maria looked so...real. So vibrant. So exactly like herself. And this boy--no, Amy, get used to using his name--this Michael, Michael Guerin, had drawn it? How could he be this talented, this...sensitive? With the life he'd had, where had he learned to create something so beautiful?
Another door, another knock. Pushing himself off the couch he'd been sitting on, lost in thought, Michael headed for the door. He didn't bother glancing at the clock, but he knew it was late. His visitor was probably Max, getting even for all the times Michael had burst in at odd hours.
So he was visibly startled when, instead of Max, he found Maria DeLuca at his door. After a moment of shock, his face hardened, and he began to swing the door shut in her face.
Maria put out a hand to keep it open. "Don't. It's okay. My mother knows I'm here." He looked suspiciously at her, and the corners of her mouth curved upward. "Really," she assured him. "Actually, she drove me. She's waiting in the car. So the only thing that could possibly keep us from talking is you," she challenged.
He looked at her for a moment, obviously trying to think this through, before holding the door open for her. "You wanna come in?" he asked hoarsely.
"I can't," she responded, then smiled ruefully. "I got her to unbend far enough to let me come, but I'm not allowed inside your apartment. Believe me, considering the fact that I'm still grounded, this is pretty good." A moment of silence as she tried to figure out how to broach the subject of why she was there, and he just looked at her, and she finally opened her mouth and said, "You were at the play tonight. For opening night."
His only response was a shrug.
"Hey, I can feel you, remember? I could feel you out in the audience, and I knew when you left as soon as it was over. I know you don't want to be anywhere near me now, so..." She missed the slight darkening of his eyes, and continued, "Thank you for coming. It really meant a lot to me."
"I had to make sure the plants worked out okay," he managed.
"Oh. Right." She ran her fingers nervously over the hem of her jacket. "Well, I also wanted to give you this," she said, fishing in her pocket and pulling out a folded piece of notebook paper. "I said I'd keep it until you drew me another one, remember?"
Michael didn't have to look at it to know it was the substitute sketch of her he'd drawn so many weeks ago. He held it tightly, paying no heed to the wrinkles he was putting into it. In front of him, Maria was still talking about the new drawing. So Mrs. DeLuca had given it to her after all. He hadn't been sure she would.
"...and it's beautiful, Michael. You made me look so beautiful. You obviously used a lot of artistic license there, but--"
He interrupted her. "It looks exactly like you," he stated baldly.
This floored her for a full eight seconds. Did Michael just say, in his own roundabout way, that he thought she was beautiful? He'd never said that before. Well, she'd figured that he found her somewhat attractive, because of all the making out they'd done last year, but he'd never actually said it before. Of course, he wasn't particularly verbal, either...
She shook her head as a more likely reason for his comment occurred to her. "Of course, you would say that," she snorted. "Have to defend your skill as an artist, right?"
Michael didn't answer, and she hastened on, "Well, anyway, I think it's beautiful. Thank you, Michael."
He kept his response down to a curt nod.
Wow, this was going great, wasn't it? She shuffled nervously from foot to foot. All she had to do was say it, get it out there and over with, and then she could go. That wouldn't be so bad, right?
Michael unwittingly gave her the impetus to speak. "Is that all? Because I was kinda in the middle of something," he said, ignoring the fact that the something he'd been in the middle of was sitting on his couch and staring at the wall.
"Actually, no. It wasn't," Maria said, taking a deep breath. "I told my mom all about it," she said.
"WHAT?" he roared, reaching out and grabbing her by the shoulders. "What did you--"
"No, no, it's okay, Michael. I didn't tell her about..." She looked around the empty hallway but decided to be circumspect. "I didn't tell her where you're from. I would never do that, I promise. After the last year, you should know that by now."
Some of the tension drained from him, and he let go of her. "I do. It's just..." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "What did you tell her, then?"
Maria bit her lip. "Well, she had a lot of questions about the drawing, and about why you didn't want her to just leave it for me--way to cause suspicion there, by the way, Michael--and I ended up telling her all about Melanie and the notes and why I was really at your place that night. How you were trying to figure out who was sending them, and that you were protecting me."
"You did." It wasn't a question, but she nodded.
"Yeah. And after a long lecture about how I shouldn't have kept it a secret from her in the first place--which I couldn't exactly argue about, since she has no idea of the real reason I had to--she decided that..." Maria took another deep breath and rushed on, "maybe you weren't so bad and it was okay to talk to you."
No reaction from Michael.
"So of course I wanted to talk to you right away, but I knew you'd hang up the phone if I called, and I thought maybe I'd have better luck in person, and she agreed I could come but she was going to drive me because it's after midnight on a school night, and no daughter of hers was going to roam the town by herself at this hour..." She heard herself babbling and forcibly cut herself off.
"Anyway, I don't think she particularly likes you, but she's willing to give you a chance. So there's nothing keeping us apart except you." She swallowed. "I'm sure you've heard about my little announcement at lunch last week, so it shouldn't be a surprise that I still love you. So I guess whatever happens next is up to you. And if you want to keep ignoring me, there's not a lot I can do about it. But I hope...Can we at least be friends?"
Maria looked up at his expressionless face. It had never seemed so hard to read as it did then, as she waited, heart pounding, for his response. She could practically see the little alien gizmos in his brain working, as he tried to come up with the words to express whatever was on his mind.
But when he finally spoke, it had nothing to do with her question. "So is your middle name really Ursula?"
What? Of all the responses she had imagined, this was certainly not one of them. Her face wrinkled up with confusion, but she answered him. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. It's horrible, I know, but it was my great-grandmother's name."
"That would make your initials M-U-D," he said flatly.
Chalk up a bonus point for Mr. Brilliance. "Yeah. So?"
And then for the first time that evening, a hint of expression crossed his face. One lip began to twitch upwards, and then Michael Guerin actually laughed. Oh sure, it was a just a small chuckle, but still...He looked away, shaking his head. "No wonder it never worked," he muttered.
"What never worked?" she asked, hoping he would continue talking to her instead of shutting her out.
He did, but his eyes avoided hers as he explained, "Last year, before we...when I was trying to stay away from you, remember? I used to think about mud to take my mind off of you."
She smiled then, remembering the UFO convention, and how he'd blurted out the word after she'd kissed him in the wrestling ring. "Mud, huh?"
"Yeah." He turned and met her gaze squarely, giving her a crooked smile. "Never worked, though."
"It didn't?" she squeaked.
"Nope." His half-smile grew into a full-fledged smirk. "All that time, I thought I was thinking about mud, and I was still just thinking about MUD. You." He looked down at her, studying her carefully as if she had become someone brand new.
A rosy glow spread across her cheeks, and she suddenly felt very self-conscious. She had gotten so used to him avoiding her that now it seemed very odd to be under his scrutiny. Good, but odd. Reluctantly she tore her eyes away from his. "So, ummm..." she mumbled. "I'd better go before Mom comes after me." She hesitated. "About before...about our friendship...well, just think about it, okay? You can let me know."
She started to back away, ready to bolt down the hall. Michael didn't let her. His hand shot out and took her by the shoulder. "I don't need to think about it," he told her. "I can't be friends with you."
She dropped her eyes down away from his face, focusing on his chest but not seeing it. She swallowed, and managed to get out one word. "Oh."
"I wish I could. It would be safer. But it's too hard. I can't do it," he said fiercely, running a hand through his hair.
She knew all about hard. But she'd thought it was better than never seeing him at all. She guessed she was wrong. Still not looking up at him, she nodded her head quickly. "Okay," she said in a small voice. "G..Goodbye then, Michael." Against her will, tears started to well up in her eyes and she moved away from him, not wanting him to see her cry.
"No--don't--" he began, then realized. "Dammit," he said under his breath. He took a few steps and caught up with her, then gently pulled her back to his doorway. "Stay here," he ordered, propping her up against the doorjamb and holding her in place. "I wasn't finished, lamebrain."
His final word had the desired effect. Her eyes, no longer threatening tears, shot up to meet his. "Lamebrain?" she burst out. "This coming from you, Michael Guerin? That's kind of ironic, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I know," he said calmly. "But you're still gonna listen to me, got it?" When he was certain she wasn't going to move, he released her shoulders. "I get the feeling you think I'm trying to bail on you again. That I don't...Hell, this is hard." He looked away from her, and continued in a low voice, "I guess I can't blame you for thinking that, after everything I've done. But I didn't mean..." Another pause, then he rushed on, "Look. Staying away from you? Not an option any more. I don't want that. I want..." He trailed off, trying to find the words that would explain it, that would make her understand.
Somehow Maria found her voice. "What do you want, Michael?" she asked in a low tone.
He gave up on his search for the right words. "You," he said baldly. She was silent, and his eyes flickered towards hers, trying to catch her reaction. "I want you, Maria," he repeated. "But there's too much getting in the way of that, and I just don't know how it could work."
"We could just go on being together in private. You know, be Eraser Room buddies or whatever," she offered, her cheeks reddening. "I'll take what I can get," she admitted, almost hating herself for being so needy.
He shook his head. "No. You deserve more. And I...I think I do too."
"Where does that leave us then?" she asked. "Not apart, not friends, not together...We're nowhere."
"I didn't say we couldn't be together," he objected. "Just not in a horndog kinda way." He registered what he'd said and corrected himself quickly. "Or not just in that way, I mean. I want more than that."
"What?" she asked softly.
Michael searched his thoughts, trying to put what he was feeling into words. "I want to be friends," he decided.
"But you said we couldn't--"
"Not just friends," he admitted. "'Cause I want that, but I want the other, too."
"You do?" she breathed.
"Yeah." He seemed almost hesitant. "If that's okay with you."
She smiled then, a wide, genuine, delighted smile. "Well, of course it is! What do you think I've been waiting around for, you big dope?"
"A stubborn, screwed-up loser from another planet?" he responded with a smirk.
"A pig-headed, complex loner from another planet," she corrected firmly. He shook his head and reached out to touch her cheek, very softly. His face grew serious.
"There's still a lot I have to work out," he said. "I still have all the questions that come from being who I am. It's not gonna be easy," he warned. "I mean, no matter how I feel about you, I'm still me. I still suck at dealing with a lot of this...human stuff."
"It doesn't matter," she assured him. "I mean, yes, you drive me crazy sometimes, but it's okay. It's part of what makes you you. A challenge," she added, her eyes sparkling. "And besides, you're not the only one with faults, you know."
"Oh yeah?" he drawled.
"I'm not perfect either. I can get a little too dramatic at times, and I'm not a brain in school like Liz, and I can be irresponsible sometimes, and everyone knows I'm kind of flaky, and have I mentioned that when I get uncomfortable I tend to babble?"
Smirking, Michael covered her mouth with a large hand. "No, really?" he deadpanned. "It's a good thing that I'm around then. 'Cause I know just how to calm you down."
Maria smiled up at him, putting her arms around his neck and holding on tightly. "Good, because with the whole Czechoslovakian situation, I may need a whole lot of calming down."
He looked back down at her, his eyes growing very dark, before muttering, "I may need some myself."
Michael watched in amusement as Maria skipped down the stairs leading towards the front door of his apartment building. Once again, their kissing had been interrupted, this time by the blaring of the Jetta's horn. Maria had dragged her lips from his, saying, "Oops. Gotta go." When he had shown absolutely no inclination to release her, she'd wriggled out of his arms. "I can't take any more chances on making my mom angry again," she'd reminded him. "I am not going to blow this." With a quick peck on the lips, she'd whispered, "I love you, Spaceboy," before darting towards the stairs.
And all he'd been able to manage was a hastily blurted, "Ditto."
She'd laughed delightedly, calling back, "I know!"
Now Michael watched as her shining blonde head disappeared; then he slowly headed back inside his apartment. Throwing himself down on his couch, he relaxed, in a much better mood than he'd been in earlier. So what if they still had their enemies to fight, and Nasedo was trying to keep secrets from him--the shapeshifter should have realized that Max would have told him all about his mysterious phone call. And so what if there was a new mystery, about shining blue crystals and hidden handprints? Michael felt better than he had in a very long time. Like maybe, just maybe, he could handle whatever happened next.
Oh, yeah. Things were definitely looking up.
EPILOGUE
Michael woke with a start, panting in the dark room. His mind raced, trying to remember the details of the nightmare he'd been swept up in. All he could get was a sense of panic and confusion, then pain. He wasn't sure if the feelings had been his or someone else's.
The only thing he could remember clearly was a sound, a word, in a familiar voice. It still rang in his ears.
Killer.
Only this time, it didn't sound like an accusation.
This time, it sounded like a warning.
THE END
A/N: Well, that's it for this story. There will be a sequel, which will address some of the unanswered questions from this story. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
kLyn