The flat, featureless plains of southeastern New Mexico stretched out all around them.  In front, looking towards the east, a deep gorge bisected the terrain like a gaping wound cut into the earth.  They had parked about twenty or so feet from the edge. 

Far below, on the floor of the canyon, Maria could see a few sparse outlines of paloverde and mesquite trees being swallowed quickly by the growing darkness. 

The view was breathtaking.

A gust of wind blowing down from the north tickled her lips.  Her eyes smarted from the lack of moisture.  Still, she stared in wonder at the pastel panorama spread out before her.

Lavender and rose and pale blue slowly dissolved into the more uniform blackness of the night sky.  It darkened the chartreuse of the flat ground and the dusky ochre of the cliffs on the opposite side.  The first stars were beginning to wink and come alive over the southeastern horizon.

For a brief moment, Maria found herself completely amazed.  She'd spent her entire life growing up in Roswell without ever knowing this place existed. 

That Michael was familiar with it came as no surprise though.  She suspected he had enough secrets floating around in his head to keep a person busy at least twenty-four and seven for the next month.

"Stay here a second." 

Maria heard his voice in her ear; felt the fleeting warmth of his breath against her cheek.  She turned in time to catch the back of his head as he debarked.

He began walking in a pattern of growing circles next to the jeep, peering at the ground closely.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

"Rattlesnakes."

"Oh."

Apparently satisfied, he headed back towards the vehicle and motioned for her to get out.

Maria didn't say anything.  Instead, she picked her way over to the edge.  He backed off and leaned against the jeep.  Absently, she noted the snapping noise of the engine as it cooled, along with the lazy sound of the radio.  Michael reached over, turning it off and leaving the two of them in silence.

His coat was too big.  It hung loosely on her shoulders, forcing her to pull it closed.  The long sleeves engulfed her hands.

Even in the darkness, she could feel his eyes on her.  Maria looked back, lifting her chin against the proprietary nature of his stare.

Michael did that sometimes.  Looked at her as though she was his alone -- on a level so intense it was almost primal.  She would never, ever admit to anyone that the notion secretly thrilled her.  God, it had taken several days just to admit it to herself.

And he was doing it now.  Scoping her out, staking a claim.

A claim he had no right to anymore.

Despite the chill temperature, he looked comfortable standing there by the jeep without his jacket, dressed in his usual jeans and a dark tee-shirt. 

The cold didn't seem to bother him at all.  Surprise, surprise. 

Alien physiology wasn't without its little perks, it seemed.

Michael tore his gaze away from her after a while.  He glanced up at the sky and jammed his hands into his pockets.

"Orion is rising," he remarked.

Oh great, she thought.  Newsflash.  Orion was rising.  He'd dragged her all the way out to this god-forsaken spot with absolutely no explanation and all he could think to say was that.

Maria couldn't help herself.  She laughed.  The noise sounded harsh even to her own ears.

"What?" he asked, warily.

"Nothing."  She shook her head.  Her irritation with this whole exercise was growing by leaps and bounds.  "It's just that the idea of standing out here in the middle of nowhere, with you of all people, surfing the mellow beneath the stars isn't exactly..." she trailed off.

"What?" he asked again, almost aggressively this time.

"Well, it's not my typical Sunday night, you know?  I mean...it wasn't until recently that I could even picture you as a 'Cosmos' kind of guy.  And even then, it's only because of..."  She made a quick motion with her hand, pointing towards the sky.  "You know?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding pissed off now.  "I know."

"I guess, in retrospect, it all makes sense."  Maria forged on, despite his obvious anger.  "This particular situation is so not logical.  I keep wondering, 'Why am I here?'"

Michael pushed himself away from the jeep, letting his hands drop to his sides.  "You know what?  You're right.  It makes no sense at all."

He turned away and made as if to climb back into the vehicle.  "Let's go," he said.  "I can see this was a mistake."

A mistake?  Where did he get off with this crap?  Now she was pissed.

"Wait just a second, Michael."

He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"This is your game, you know," she said.  "You'll have to excuse me if I don't know quite how to play it."

"It isn't a game."  He let go of the door, turning towards her.  "It's not something you play."

Not a game?  Who did he think he was he kidding? 

A hail of raw emotion pelted her at his arrogance.  All the things she'd tried to ignore or set aside over the past few weeks suddenly came upon her like a winter storm full of fury and discontent.

"I don't think so," she said, looking down at her hands.  They were shaking slightly with the strain. 

"Let's just consider the situation here.  You knocked yourself out last week with my shop assignment -- even going so far as to say 'thanks' after my little tirade.  But then you tell me afterwards that we're even -- that I shouldn't ever help you again, because you still can't afford to get involved.  That's until tonight, when you pick me up without so much as a simple hello, drag me out here to god knows where without even bothering to say why.  How am I supposed to feel about to that?" 

Maria heard the tremor in her voice, knowing she was close to losing it.  And why not?  She'd been cool about this for far too long.  Maybe it was his turn to deal for a change.

"You know, Michael, the 'layers of mystery' thing gets tired after a while."

"It was enough to catch your interest," he pointed out, cruelly.

"God, you still don't get it, do you?  Weren't we speaking English the last time I checked?  What part of, 'I thought you were going to die,' didn't you understand?" 

She made no effort now to hide her desperation.

"How could I possibly refuse to help you if something else happens?"

Tears suddenly spilled from her eyes.  Maria put a hand to her mouth, turning away, struggling for control.

She had promised herself once when it all began that she would never cry in front of him...never expose herself that way.  Unfortunately, her heart wasn't dictated to that easily.  She slumped to the ground, immersed in a dark wave of humiliation and regret.

God, but it was cold out here.

Seconds passed.  Or perhaps minutes.  Hell, it could have been hours for all she knew.  Then, her senses registered the rustle of his thick-soled Sketchers on the grass behind her.

"Maria."

She quivered with unexpected pleasure at the sound of her name on his lips -- until she caught herself, thrusting an arm behind as if to ward him off.

"No," she whispered.

"Shhhh," he said, sinking down to the ground.  He reached his arms around her, pulling her close.  "It's okay."

"It isn't," she gasped, covering her face with both hands.  "It isn't okay."

"Please," Michael said.  "Just...don't say anything for a minute."

His hands spanned her waist before sliding around to the small of her back, kneading away the tension.  A thick layer of warmth spread over her at his nearness.  Maria knew instinctively that it must be due to his unique abilities.  No human metabolism could ever hope to be that efficient.  Still, the effect was soothing.  In spite of herself, she relaxed.

"I thought you told me you weren't that good at it," she said.  Sniffling, she wiped the tears from her face.

"I've been practicing."

Then, Maria felt the brush of his lips against her nape and was lost.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Michael moved his mouth along the bend of her neck.  He traced the line of her jaw before nuzzling the sensitive hollow beneath her chin.

Her heart began to beat a little harder.

The cool night air blew across the open ground, but the heat around them was building effortlessly...intensely...the way it always did...sending a sparkle of raw awareness along her nerves.

His touch was still so new to her.  Almost magical.  It was compelling in a way she didn't quite understand yet.  Forcing away the need for logic or rationality from all but the farthest reaches of her mind.

His mouth skimmed her throat, moving up to nip at the curve of her ear.  A sigh of longing escaped him.  Maria closed her eyes at the small, sensual sound.  The sights and scents of the desert all around them seemed to fade and slip away.  A heavy feeling took hold of her limbs, spreading in concert with the thick, liquid warmth between her legs. 

Giving in to the mysterious sensation was an impulse almost too tempting to resist.  Excitement consumed her, beckoning.  A sense of curiosity about what it would feel like to harness all the wild and reckless energy that was the heart of Michael's character.  Part of her wanted very badly to have it.  To hold it, understand it, before letting go and seeing just where it could take her.

He slipped his fingers beneath her chin, turning her head and tilting it back until his lips hovered just a fraction away from her own.

"Yes," she whispered.

The kiss was light; almost tentative.  Then it burned hotter, out of control, morphing into something far more extreme.

Michael drew on her mouth, sucking on her lower lip, sliding his tongue against hers in a bold display of his own need.

Unwittingly, Maria responded, matching his eagerness.  His fingers drew a scorching trail across her face, into her hair, holding her to him with a grip that was unbreakable. 

His legs were bent; thighs pressing close on either side of her.  She slid her hands over the rough denim of his jeans, gripping his knees firmly.

By now, they were both struggling for breath between kisses.  Maria shivered as she felt his free hand drift up...across her stomach...through the gaping lapels of the coat.  And then his fingertips traced randomly over the weave of her sweater before finally closing over one breast.

Michael had never done that to her before.  No one had.  The movement sent a bolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure streaking through her.  It clawed at her senses, somehow shocking her back to sanity.

"Oh my god," she gasped.  Stiffening, she pulled away from him.

He groaned, cursing softly.  Maria clutched her forehead with one hand, feeling suddenly bereft.  A few more minutes of this and who knew where it might lead?  She tried to remember why she'd stopped. 

A mistake, certainly.  Or was it?

Michael touched her shoulder.  Her head snapped up as she sensed his unspoken need for reassurance.  Forcing herself to relax, Maria allowed him to draw her close again.  She couldn't bring herself to resist, knowing somehow that she was safe -- that even he wasn't ready to pick up where they'd just left off.

"I'm sorry," she heard him say.  He drew his fingers through her hair, tucking the wayward strands behind her ear.  "I didn't want this.  It's not why I brought you here."

"Why did you bring us out here, Michael?" she asked.  Maria was grateful that her voice sounded a lot steadier than she felt.  "The least you could do right now is tell me."

He didn't respond.  She felt his reluctance thrumming at her back like a live wire.  Typical Michael.  Getting right to the point and blurting out what he thought always seemed like second nature to him.  As long as it didn't involve his personal feelings.

She was astute enough to know that her inquiry was the mental equivalent of a tooth extraction for him.  Issues of extraterrestrial dentistry aside, Maria didn't see him yielding very easily.

So much of their communication thus far seemed based on a system that didn't involve words.  A fleeting look.  A brief physical contact.  Sometimes more than that.

Maria decided to take a shot at encouraging him in the only way she knew how.

She took hold of his hand--

--and the world around her suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces.

(To Be Cont'd)