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Chapter 4—

After a particularly draining day at work, Michael plodded into the Hotel with heavy feet and even heavier eyelids. He expected to find Roxy Balsom behind the front desk, as usual. The thought wasn't exactly an appealing one. As tired as he was, the mere thought of Roxy's rather … unique voice made him cringe.

He wondered if he could sneak in unseen.

Too bad he didn't take into account that exhaustion doesn't exactly go hand and hand with coordination.

"Wow, that was a memorable entrance," a certain voice belonging to a certain redhead said from above him.

Michael, sprawled out on the floor, face down, groaned and hesitantly looked up to find that Natalie was looking down on him. She obviously found his impromptu swan dive into the carpet very amusing.

"Are you all right?" she asked in between peals of laughter.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, slowly beginning to pick himself up off the floor. "Just embarrassed."

"Don't worry about it, Mikey. You just made my day." He frowned at her jesting. She didn't pay it any attention and continued with, "It's really boring to sit around and look at the wallpaper peeling off the walls. You know, Roxy really should do something about that."

"I somehow doubt it bothers her."

"She never was one to burden herself with things like that," Natalie admitted.

"Why are you here anyway, Natalie?"

"Oh, Roxy wanted to take the night off, so I'm filling in for her. She did launch into an explanation of why and exactly what it was that she was going to be doing, but I'd taken to holding my hands over my ears and singing to try and drown her out by that point."

Michael laughed. "That was a lengthy way to say that Roxy took the night off."

"Yeah, well, we all know that I very rarely take the easy way out."

"Uh-oh," Michael intoned. "That doesn't sound good."

"Just speaking in general rather than specifics," Natalie waved it off.

"So nothing happened today?"

"Why?" she quickly asked. "Did you hear that something happened today?"

Michael screwed his face up in that comical way of his. Had Natalie not been too busy avoiding eye contact with him, she would have noticed his ridiculous expression (because it really was ridiculous). She busied herself with tidying up Roxy's mess behind the front counter and took to ignoring Michael's presence.

Of course, that was always easier said than done.

"What?" she finally demanded of Michael.

"Give me the crib notes version," Michael said, leaning his weight against the counter and trying to resist the urge to just sink to the floor and go to sleep. "Short and sweet."

Natalie loudly sighed. "It doesn't have anything to do with John."

"Really?" was the skeptical response.

"Yes, Michael … really." She played around with a few stray papers for several moments, before admitting, "Okay, so it had to do with John."

"Mmm-huh. Why am I not surprised? What happened … again, make it short and sweet."

"Okay, well … "Natalie began, "it happened at work today. See, I really was minding my own business. I was actually quite busy. You know, I'm still working on that new filing system of mine."

"Still?" Michael repeated.

"Yes, still. Now, don't interrupt me, Michael! If you want to hear the whole story, then listen … and don't fall asleep!" She slapped his shoulder at this last part, jerking him back to the present.

"Okay—just get on with it then. I don't need so much exposition, Natalie. Skip the introduction."

"No, because the introduction is important," she insisted. "So anyway—I was busy with the new filing system and getting it all set up, when Evangeline stormed past me like an ill wind or something."

"It's too much to hope that you just shrugged it off and went back to work, isn't it?"

"You're interrupting," Natalie sweetly reminded him. "And of course I didn't shrug it off. I'm curious by nature … and it's a small-ish office, so it's not as though I was the only one wondering what had happened."

"But I'm willing to bet you were the only one who stuck your nose into it."

"Michael," Natalie said through clenched teeth. "Stop with the smart-ass comments. And would you stop slumping over the counter—you're messing things up."

When he refused to acquiesce to her request, Natalie shoved him off herself. After that, he still leaned on the counter, but was careful to avoid any papers or knick-knacks that he could possibly disturb.

"Okay, so yes, I was curious. Obviously something had happened between Evangeline and John to cause her to go storming out of the place like that. And you know what—people forget this, Michael, but long before there was an Evangeline Williamson in the picture, John and I were friends. Everyone—yourself included, so don't look at me as though you're innocent—thinks that I'm just the evil interloper who wants to get rid of the competition. Granted, I wouldn't mind if that prissy schoolmarm took a flying leap off a cliff, but that isn't the point."

"Do you actually have a point?" Michael heaved a loud sigh. "In case you haven't noticed, I am exhausted. Please. Get. To. The. Point."

"Fine," Natalie glared. "I went into John's office. And I well and truly had nothing but pure intentions this time. I just wanted to see if he was okay. Despite everything that has happened, we're still friends. Well, I'm not so sure anymore after what happened, but…"

"Natalie," Michael warned. "You're getting off track.

"I asked if he was okay and if he needed anything. I mean, I was simply being concerned for a co-worker. If Uncle Bo had gone in there and asked the same thing, would John accuse him of trying to manipulate the situation? No," she sarcastically mumbled, "because I represent everything that is evil in this world."

"No offense or anything, Natalie, but it's not that big of a stretch for anyone to think that you were trying to manipulate the situation."

"You think I was trying to cause trouble?" she asked him in a hurt voice (although it would be unlikely Natalie would ever admit that).

"Surprisingly, I actually believe you," he assured her. "You and John are friends, but honestly—in what world would you think that it would be appropriate for you to stick your nose into his business with his girlfriend."

"Okay, so in retrospect, it wasn't the smartest thing to do. But did John need to yell at me and order me around like a stray dog? I know I have a tendency to ignore some of the crap that comes out of his mouth, but really Michael, in my defense, a lot of what John says is crap. But anyway, I mean—all he had to do was tell me that he didn't want to talk about it or that it wasn't any of my business and I would have left. Instead, he yelled at me and it pissed me off. I mean, it had me seeing red, Michael. I'm sure it's hard for people to believe that I just gave up when it comes to pursuing John, but the fact is, that's exactly what happened. And being accused of something that I wasn't trying to do just got under my skin."

"So what happened?" Michael eagerly asked, finding himself interested in the whole sordid tale.

"I yelled back at him. I mean, I really yelled. And things came out."

"What kind of things?"

"Just … all my frustration and anger at him. You know, he's the King of Mixed Signals. You wonder why I stuck around for so long? It's because of all the mixed signals. I'd think I had it figured out and he'd just throw another one out that confused me even further. So, I took out all my anger on him and it escalated into an argument and … well … long story short, Uncle Bo had to drag me outside to keep me from maiming your stupid brother."

When Natalie had finished her tale, Michael stared at her as though he didn't know how to react. She began to wonder if he'd fallen into some kind of waking coma after a few, silent moments.

But then he started laughing.

Loudly. Very loudly.

Natalie frowned at his reaction. It seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere and she wasn't entirely certain as to what was so funny about the situation anyway. So, she resorted to her 'Natalie-is-irked-at-Michael' glare. With all the practice she was getting, she could practically take out a patent on that glare.

"Oh, come on Natalie," Michael said in between peals of laughter, "that is funny. You were dragged out of the police station by the commissioner to avoid the possibility that you would maim your sort-of-ex."

"I don't see what's so funny about it," she pouted. "It was embarrassing."

"No, it's funny," he reiterated.

"I somehow doubt you'd think so if it had been you."

"I wouldn't have ever found myself in such a situation to begin with. You see, I can mind my own business."

"No you can't!" Natalie was quick to contradict him. "That is a bold-faced lie, McBain. Ever since you broke up with Marcie, all you do is butt into other people's lives. John's, mine, … the prissy schoolmarm's."

Despite himself, Michael had to laugh at Natalie's new nickname for his brother's girlfriend. "Where are you getting 'prissy schoolmarm' from?"

"Oh, one of the officers at work said she looked like his old high school principal. It was because of the way she had her hair up the other day." Natalie suddenly shook her head. "Michael! You're avoiding the issue. The issue is that you butt into other's people's lives far more often than I do. Don't play the sainted one; you are far from perfect."

"Fine. But I do know where to draw the line. Seriously Natalie, whether or not you had good intentions today …"

"Which I did!" she interrupted him to exclaim.

"And I believe you. But you have to realize that you simply can't get involved in anything having to do with John and Evangeline as a couple. No matter what your intentions are, it's going to be misconstrued and you'll probably just end up making the situation worse."

She groaned. "I hate it when you're right, McBain." Then, "But still! John didn't have to treat me the way he did."

Michael shrugged. "I suppose not. But you should have stayed out of it."

"You don't have to keep reiterating that, Mikey. I get it."

"Good."

"Michael?" Natalie called out to him. When he didn't answer, she grabbed a nearby newspaper, rolled it up, and went over to where he was dozing on the couch in the lobby. She stood in front of him for a few seconds, attempting to talk herself out of rudely waking him.

But in the end, compassion didn't win.

She whacked him on the back of the head with the rolled up newspaper, startling him awake. His disorientated eyes took a moment to focus, but when they did, he stared at her in shock and disbelief.

"What'd you do that for?" he whined, rubbing the back of his head.

"You were snoring," she explained. "Loudly."

"I don't snore," he asserted. Then, less confidently, "Do I?"

"Afraid so," Natalie nodded. "Obviously you're exhausted and you're certainly not providing me with any entertainment, so why don't you just go upstairs and get some sleep?"

"Why so quick to get rid of me?"

"Because you've been snoring for the past thirty minutes. It's very annoying. Go to bed."

"Sadly enough," Michael began, rising to his feet, "I think this couch is more comfortable than my bed."

"Yeah? Well, that's what you get for living in a run-down hotel. I mean, no offense or anything, but I'd think you'd want better for yourself."

"Like you can talk—you're still living at home with your Mommy."

"Ahhh, but I have lost time to make up for. I didn't even know she was mother until a few years ago. So, it's perfectly acceptable for me to live with her and Jess." Natalie paused and then confided in Michael. "I actually was thinking of moving out though. Getting a place of my own."

"How come? Did something happen?"

"Oh, no. Everything's fine," she was quick to correct him. "It's just—I was thinking that it might be a good idea to start over again. Start fresh … I mean, the first step was obviously letting go of my pursuit of John. The second step could be getting a place of my own."

"Heh," Michael was surprised, "that actually makes sense."

"Oh, imagine that. Natalie makes sense," she rolled her eyes. "It's been known to happen, Michael."

"I should do that too," he suddenly decided.

"Do what? Make sense?" Natalie asked in bewilderment. "Well, it couldn't hurt anything, that's for sure."

"No—move out of this hotel and get a better place to live," he clarified.

"Oh, lovely. Well, I haven't decided yet. It was just an idea."

"We should do it together!" Michael exclaimed in a fit of exuberance. "We could get an apartment together."

"Okay, do you realize who you're asking to be your roommate? I know we've been getting along lately, but do you really think we could live together without blood shed?"

"Why not?"

Natalie looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head. Then she went over and patted him on the top of his head, as though he were a silly child.

"Go to bed, Michael. You're delirious."

TBC