ONE MORE MOMENT IN TIME.
This is the sequel to "A Shadow of Fate."
~Prologue
Victoria couldn't go to the hospital, so Michael rented a hotel room and took her inside. Her blood was all over him, covering him as he had held her helplessly while they had driven along that lonely stretch of desert highway back to Roswell.
Michael laid her down, then turned to Max and Isabel who hovered barely in the doorway, as silent onlookers.
"Heal her, Max." -Michael.
Max shook his head. "I won't."
Victoria moaned, almost delirious, and stirred a bit. Michael turned to look at her and then back to Max frantically. "Goddammitt Max, heal her!"
"What have you done, Michael? I warned you not to get involved with her. And what did you do? You got her pregnant?" -Max.
"Don't talk to me about getting someone pregnant. Not too long ago you knocked up-" -Michael.
"Stop this, Michael." Max snapped. "She doesn't deserve to live. You know what she's done! I can't be responsible for healing her and then have her put us in danger again."
Michael stepped to Max in anger. "So help me-"
Isabel stepped between them. "Max is right, Michael. If she's one of us - it's obvious she's not friend, but an enemy."
"To us. she's better off dead." Max said resolutely.
"And my kid, too? Huh Max?" Michael raged.
Max avoided the question, instead he said, "When it's over, just do what you have to do and walk away."
"Easy for you to say. She saved my life, that's worth something." -Michael.
Max just shook his head, refusing to help.
Michael sat down on the bed and looked down at Victoria for the longest time, before picking up her hand.
Max and Isabel stood back silently.
"Since all you want to do is gloat, get out of here." Michael rasped through clenched teeth.
"Michael, we-" Isabel started.
"Get out." -Michael.
They left, almost reluctantly, leaving Michael alone to watch Victoria suffer.
Michael made Victoria as comfortable as he could and he tried with all his might to will her pain away from her and to himself. But he couldn't and he couldn't heal her. All he could do was look on.
A little later, he heard a knock on the door. Going to the door wearily, he found Maria standing there.
"I heard-" Maria said.
Michael just looked at her. What was there to say to that?
"How could you do this to me, Michael?" -Maria.
"I can't take this from you too, Maria." Michael looked up at her and Maria saw his face filled with so much pain, that she couldn't argue with him.
Michael was on an emotional overload. He couldn't tell Maria about how his heart had stopped when he realized she had been kidnapped, seeing her being pulled out of the car with Liz, Victoria's life exchanged for theirs. Truth be told, he could have gone on if she had died, but why would he have wanted to? He hadn't really had time to absorb the fact that Maria had been in grave danger, the most danger so far. But then Victoria had been shot. And she had to be his priority at the moment. Maria was fine. Maria was alive. Victoria might not be soon.
So all Michael said, was, "You should go." He turned around and went back to Victoria's side.
He didn't even see when Maria left, exactly. She was forgotten as soon as he'd turned his back. She didn't leave immediately. And she couldn't be pleased in that instance, nor gratified, nor happy. If Victoria was going to die, so was his child, and somehow she couldn't actually be happy that either of them were to die soon. She was confused, she was disturbed and she felt betrayed. So instead, she watched from the door while Michael threaded his fingers through Victoria's and willed her to live.
Maria left.
One time that night, Victoria awoke to see Michael asleep sitting up, sitting on a chair next to her, his hand in hers and his head on her arm. She gingerly stroked his long hair back from a side of his face. It was all the strength she could muster. He awoke.
"Michael." She said softly, weakly. "We're going to lose her."
"Her?" -Michael.
"Our baby." -Victoria.
"How did-" Michael started.
"No matter what happens, don't blame yourself." Victoria answered instead.
"I can't heal either of you." Michael looked conflicted, utterly heartbroken.
Victoria cried then and Michael laid his face next to hers. He saw her through the pain, the blood, through that night that she suffered. Sometime during the very early morning hours, Victoria did lose the baby. Michael held the tiny infant in his hands. It was a girl and she was so tiny, yet nearly twice as developed in age as she should have been, had she been a human's child. She was tiny, so tiny, but perfect. Heartbreakingly perfect. Michael held her as she breathed her first and last breath. And with this, he cried himself. Amazed, and heartbroken at once. Victoria was asleep now, maybe more than that - he couldn't tell. But he couldn't wake her.
Shortly thereafter, as Michael just held his so tiny child wrapped in his shirt, he had a visitor.
A man who said his name was Saelar, a man like Michael, a man who was there he said, because it was important and vital that Victoria live and he was there to help her.
Michael watched stunned as he, Saelar, put his hands over her and healed her. When Michael fretted because Victoria did not awaken afterwards, the man assured him that she would be fine and was only sleeping.
Saelar instructed Michael to put his daughter to rest in the desert. And then he was gone.
Things happened that early morning, as if sometimes in a dream. And Michael did take his daughter to the desert and he buried her tiny body with his own hands. Michael couldn't remember everything about the desert, when he awoke back in the hotel room, with the bright sun shining through the cracks in the window.
This is the sequel to "A Shadow of Fate."
~Prologue
Victoria couldn't go to the hospital, so Michael rented a hotel room and took her inside. Her blood was all over him, covering him as he had held her helplessly while they had driven along that lonely stretch of desert highway back to Roswell.
Michael laid her down, then turned to Max and Isabel who hovered barely in the doorway, as silent onlookers.
"Heal her, Max." -Michael.
Max shook his head. "I won't."
Victoria moaned, almost delirious, and stirred a bit. Michael turned to look at her and then back to Max frantically. "Goddammitt Max, heal her!"
"What have you done, Michael? I warned you not to get involved with her. And what did you do? You got her pregnant?" -Max.
"Don't talk to me about getting someone pregnant. Not too long ago you knocked up-" -Michael.
"Stop this, Michael." Max snapped. "She doesn't deserve to live. You know what she's done! I can't be responsible for healing her and then have her put us in danger again."
Michael stepped to Max in anger. "So help me-"
Isabel stepped between them. "Max is right, Michael. If she's one of us - it's obvious she's not friend, but an enemy."
"To us. she's better off dead." Max said resolutely.
"And my kid, too? Huh Max?" Michael raged.
Max avoided the question, instead he said, "When it's over, just do what you have to do and walk away."
"Easy for you to say. She saved my life, that's worth something." -Michael.
Max just shook his head, refusing to help.
Michael sat down on the bed and looked down at Victoria for the longest time, before picking up her hand.
Max and Isabel stood back silently.
"Since all you want to do is gloat, get out of here." Michael rasped through clenched teeth.
"Michael, we-" Isabel started.
"Get out." -Michael.
They left, almost reluctantly, leaving Michael alone to watch Victoria suffer.
Michael made Victoria as comfortable as he could and he tried with all his might to will her pain away from her and to himself. But he couldn't and he couldn't heal her. All he could do was look on.
A little later, he heard a knock on the door. Going to the door wearily, he found Maria standing there.
"I heard-" Maria said.
Michael just looked at her. What was there to say to that?
"How could you do this to me, Michael?" -Maria.
"I can't take this from you too, Maria." Michael looked up at her and Maria saw his face filled with so much pain, that she couldn't argue with him.
Michael was on an emotional overload. He couldn't tell Maria about how his heart had stopped when he realized she had been kidnapped, seeing her being pulled out of the car with Liz, Victoria's life exchanged for theirs. Truth be told, he could have gone on if she had died, but why would he have wanted to? He hadn't really had time to absorb the fact that Maria had been in grave danger, the most danger so far. But then Victoria had been shot. And she had to be his priority at the moment. Maria was fine. Maria was alive. Victoria might not be soon.
So all Michael said, was, "You should go." He turned around and went back to Victoria's side.
He didn't even see when Maria left, exactly. She was forgotten as soon as he'd turned his back. She didn't leave immediately. And she couldn't be pleased in that instance, nor gratified, nor happy. If Victoria was going to die, so was his child, and somehow she couldn't actually be happy that either of them were to die soon. She was confused, she was disturbed and she felt betrayed. So instead, she watched from the door while Michael threaded his fingers through Victoria's and willed her to live.
Maria left.
One time that night, Victoria awoke to see Michael asleep sitting up, sitting on a chair next to her, his hand in hers and his head on her arm. She gingerly stroked his long hair back from a side of his face. It was all the strength she could muster. He awoke.
"Michael." She said softly, weakly. "We're going to lose her."
"Her?" -Michael.
"Our baby." -Victoria.
"How did-" Michael started.
"No matter what happens, don't blame yourself." Victoria answered instead.
"I can't heal either of you." Michael looked conflicted, utterly heartbroken.
Victoria cried then and Michael laid his face next to hers. He saw her through the pain, the blood, through that night that she suffered. Sometime during the very early morning hours, Victoria did lose the baby. Michael held the tiny infant in his hands. It was a girl and she was so tiny, yet nearly twice as developed in age as she should have been, had she been a human's child. She was tiny, so tiny, but perfect. Heartbreakingly perfect. Michael held her as she breathed her first and last breath. And with this, he cried himself. Amazed, and heartbroken at once. Victoria was asleep now, maybe more than that - he couldn't tell. But he couldn't wake her.
Shortly thereafter, as Michael just held his so tiny child wrapped in his shirt, he had a visitor.
A man who said his name was Saelar, a man like Michael, a man who was there he said, because it was important and vital that Victoria live and he was there to help her.
Michael watched stunned as he, Saelar, put his hands over her and healed her. When Michael fretted because Victoria did not awaken afterwards, the man assured him that she would be fine and was only sleeping.
Saelar instructed Michael to put his daughter to rest in the desert. And then he was gone.
Things happened that early morning, as if sometimes in a dream. And Michael did take his daughter to the desert and he buried her tiny body with his own hands. Michael couldn't remember everything about the desert, when he awoke back in the hotel room, with the bright sun shining through the cracks in the window.