Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N #1: Natalie/Michael friendship and eventual romance. Set maybe a few months from what's going on with the show right now (as of early June).
A/N #2: I still consider myself a John/Natalie fan, but let's just say that the both of them have been irking me lately (although John more so). And I like the Nat/Mikey tentative friendship. It's fun! Hence the idea for this fic.
A/N #3: (This is it, I swear!) Reviews would be much appreciated. :)
Chapter 1—
Natalie Vega had finally had enough. There was only so much misery and humiliation that one woman could take. She was done with it all. She was finished with the games and the stupid plans that nearly got herself killed. She was finished chasing after men who didn't want her—or at the very least couldn't admit that they wanted her. In the end, it simply wasn't worth it.
It felt strangely liberating to let John McBain go. Or the idea of John McBain anyway. The idea was always more romantic than the reality. And the reality was that the two of them would never work out. They couldn't work out. Perhaps they were only ever meant to be good friends. But they'd never really been that to begin with. There was always something more; it went largely unspoken, but they were never just friends.
They were never anything more either.
Maybe that's why she'd held on for so long. The possibility that she and John could potentially become more. It was never fully explored and so she always wondered 'what if'? And it was the 'what if's' that always did her in. It was the 'what if's' that had kept her holding on for so long.
But she was tired of holding on. She was tired of feeding on the scraps that he would throw her. She wanted more. She wanted full and unconditional love. She wanted a man who wasn't afraid to open up. She wanted a man who wasn't consumed by his own demons. She wanted a man who wanted her and only her.
She had that once. With Cristian. No one had ever loved her like Cris did and she was beginning to think that no one else ever would. She'd never had an easy go at relationships. Either she mucked it up somehow, or circumstances got in the way.
Circumstances. They could be a bitch.
But maybe she didn't need it any longer. Maybe finding true love that one time—with Cristian—maybe that was enough. After all, that type of love wasn't something that could be recreated. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to recreate it. Somehow, that would be taking away from the love she and Cris shared. It would be saying that it wasn't real… that it wasn't special.
If Natalie Vega knew one thing, it was that her love affair with Cristian Vega was the real deal. It was special and she refused to let anything or anyone take that away from her.
But the thing was—she didn't need love any longer. Not that kind of love. Once with Cris—that was enough. She could concentrate all her love on her family—on Vicki, Jessica, Kevin, and Joey. And Rex and Roxy. She could be content with just being Natalie Balsom Buchanan Laurence (boy how she wanted to forget that) Vega. She didn't need a second half—a man—to complete her. She didn't need John McBain.
Not that she wanted to cut him out of her life for good. They'd been through a lot together. There was a bond there—a connection—that could never be ignored. They got each other because they came from similar backgrounds and like begets like. There were some things about John that she understood better than anyone else ever could. Sometimes she could look at him and it was as though she was inside his head… as though she knew every single thing passing through his brain.
And it was that kind of thinking that had caused her to hold on for so long.
Yes, she knew him. She understood him. And vice-versa. He understood parts about her—about her personality—that no one else did. But did that mean they were destined to be together? She was pretty sure that the answer was no.
If she could just figure out why things hadn't worked out. Because, really, she knew that they didn't belong together. Something in her gut told her that. She just didn't know the exact reason. It probably wouldn't change anything if she did know, but that extra bit of clarity, would certainly be welcome.
She sighed and kicked a wayward pebble with her shoe. It went flying and apparently, hit someone.
"What did you do that for?" came a slightly annoyed voice.
Natalie grinned when Michael McBain stepped into the park and into her line of vision. "Haven't you heard—death by pebble; it's all the rage these days."
He smiled his goofy smile and took a few steps closer to her. "You look horrible."
"Gee, thanks Dr. Mikey," Natalie rolled her eyes. "You don't exactly look like a million bucks either. Those dark circles under your eyes—it just screams 'exhausted doctor'. I don't think I'd trust you to take my temperature looking like that."
"I just finished my shift," he explained, ignoring her sarcasm.
"Oh, then you'll want to catch up on some sleep. Please, don't let me hold you up."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Am I that obvious?"
"Oh, you're nothing if not obvious," he threw back, but not in an unkind manner.
She looked down at that. His statement rang truer than she'd like to admit. Obvious. And pathetic. That described her to a tee when it came to Michael's brother, John. So pathetically obvious.
"You all right?" Michael asked, oblivious to the hurt his off-hand comment had caused, but certain that something was wrong.
Her head snapped up. "I'm fine. You can cut the doctorly concern."
Michael did a bit of a double take and held his hands up in mock defeat.
"Sorry," Natalie mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm not mad at you."
Against his better judgment—because really, Michael wasn't so sure he really wanted to know—he asked, "Who are you mad at then?"
"I don't know that I'm actually mad," she admitted. Then she shook her head and amended. "Well, that's not really true either. I'm mad at myself, I guess."
"You are pretty easy to get annoyed with," he jested.
She had a sharp retort already forming on her lips, but it fell short when she saw that Michael's comment was all in good humor. Michael McBain could be very grating and highly annoying when he put his mind to it, but he really wasn't that bad of a guy, she decided.
Well… at the very least, he could be worse.
"This doesn't have anything to do with my brother, does it?" came the sudden question.
"What?" Natalie feigned ignorance. "Why would me being mad at myself have anything to do with…" she faltered, "… with John?"
"You tell me."
"Mikey, much as I appreciate you attempting to be a friend," Natalie began, "the fact is, you and I aren't friends. So, no offense or anything, but I don't exactly feel like pouring my heart out to you."
"None taken," he shrugged it off. "But whatever happened, I'd be willing to bet it had something to do with John. I just hope you haven't done anything to…"
"Oh, to mess up his so-called perfect romance with Evangeline Williamson," Natalie spat, dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, nothing to worry about there. Evangeline is perfect and I'm nothing but the needy girl who gets under foot. Am I right? Is that what you were going to say?"
"Not at all," Michael truthfully told her. "I was actually worried about you."
Natalie's blue eyes widened in surprise.
"What?" she asked in disbelief. "You were worried about me? About Natalie? Natalie Vega? The red-head standing in front of you?"
"Is that so hard to believe?" Michael laughed.
"Yes. It is hard to believe. Try impossible." She looked around at her surroundings and then turned back to Michael. "It looks like the same, old park—but maybe we fell into some sort of time-vortex? An alternate reality or something?"
"No alternate reality," Michael assured her. "I was going to say," he continued, "that I hoped you hadn't done anything to hurt yourself… such as another stupid plan that very nearly gets you killed?"
"Ahhh, you heard about my latest ill-formed plan. Yeah, well, I'm finished with those."
"Oh, you're a reformed woman, are you?"
"Maybe," she playfully responded. Then more seriously, "I really am finished, you know. My stupid plans are just that… stupid."
"So what are you going to do with your free time?"
"My entire life actually doesn't revolve around concocting stupid plans, Michael."
"Could have fooled a lot of people."
"It also doesn't revolve around your brother and his girlfriend, contrary to what a lot of people—yourself included—think."
"So this… whatever's going on with you… it has nothing to do with John."
"No, it does," Natalie admitted. "But it's not what you think."
Michael sat down on a nearby bench. He patted the empty spot next to him and said to Natalie, "So, explain it to me."
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "I am not going to sit here and pour my heart out to you, of all people."
"Why not? There something wrong with me?"
"There's quite a lot wrong with you. But ignoring that, I don't like you very much."
"Likewise."
"So then why do you care?"
"Well, I don't hate you," Michael admitted.
"But how does that add up?" Natalie incredulously asked. "You don't hate me, but you don't really like me either. How does that translate into you wanting to play confidant?"
"I'm a curious guy," he shrugged. "Come on, Natalie… sit down."
She thought about it for a half-second and then did as requested.
"Let me ask you something, Michael," Natalie said. "Because at least I know you'll be honest with me." Michael nodded his head at this. "Why do you think that I'm so wrong for John?"
He blinked his eyes. "Do you really want to know?"
She gave him a pointed look. "I asked, didn't I?"
He took a deep breath. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Just get on with it," she impatiently prodded him along.
Michael searched for a way to put things into words. "All right, you know how you like mustard on your french fries? Well, it's like that."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she exploded. "That doesn't tell me anything!"
"Most people like ketchup, don't they?"
"I don't know why," she answered. "That's boring and predictable."
"Right, but some people need that."
"They need boredom and predictability?" Natalie asked in confusion. "Why would anyone want that? Life shouldn't be dull or uneventful."
"Not for someone like you," Michael corrected. "You like mustard on your fries and there's nothing wrong with that. But John… he needs ketchup. He needs stability and someone who isn't a… well… you do have a tendency to turn his world upside down and knock him off balance."
"But I don't understand why that's a bad thing."
"It's not," Michael insisted. "It's just not what John needs."
"So Evangeline is the ketchup—she's the dull, vapid, and boring one…"
"I was going for the stable and reliable one," Michael corrected her.
"Whatever," Natalie waved it off. "She's dull, vapid, and boring. She's also a know-it-all who has a snobbish streak."
"She's good for John," Michael firmly told Natalie. "It's not necessarily that you're bad… or even wrong for him… you're just…"
"I have the potential to make him miserable because I'm not ketchup," she surmised. "Because I'm not dull, vapid, and boring."
Michael nodded. "Exactly." Then, "Wait a minute, I didn't mean—Evangeline's not…"
"Save your breath," Natalie cut him off. "I get what you're saying. And furthermore, I actually agree with you."
Michael was appropriately shocked. "That's got to be a first," he commented.
"Don't look so surprised, Dr. Mikey. I'm tired of being shoved aside in favor of the ketchup. So I'm through with it. From now on, I'm the mustard and if that means I have to sit around by myself, then so be it."
"I think we're taking the whole mustard vs. ketchup metaphor a little far," Michael said, rubbing the side of his head. "What exactly are you saying?"
"I'm saying that there is no more Natalie and John."
"Not that there ever actually was," Michael added.
Natalie gave him a sideways glare. "Seriously, Michael—I'm dropping out of the race. Me? I'm proud to be mustard."
"I thought we were going to drop…"
"No, I didn't agree to any such thing," Natalie interrupted. "So. That's it."
"You're giving up? Just like that? Forgive me for being skeptical. You don't strike me as the type of person to just willingly walk away. It's something about red-heads…"
"Oh, don't pull out the stereotypical red-head card. I figure that I held on long enough. Time to cut my losses and move on. And besides, Michael McBain," she poked his shoulder rather harshly, "who says I'm a natural red-head?"
Michael laughed heartily at that last bit.
TBC