Part 29
Maria was curled up in Michael's chair, chin in her hand as she stared at the blank screen on the television. Normally she didn't sit in his chair because he threw a fit, but it made her feel a little closer to him. She didn't know why she bothered; he was an asshole of the highest order, but she actually kinda missed him. Not that she would ever admit that.
The last movie had finished a little while ago and surprisingly enough, they had been the same as the movies in her universe. It was just odd how some things were identical and others like Star Wars and Madonna just didn't even exist. She picked at a loose thread in the seam on the arm of the chair as she thought about the movies she had just watched.
In the movie, the Terminator, a machine that looked human, was sent back in time to protect John Conner, a human whose purpose was to become an adult and preserve humanity, protect it from being destroyed by the machines. He had to grow up to become a leader capable of carrying out that directive, and to do that he had to be protected by the Terminator.
She sat up suddenly, ripping the thread straight down the arm of the chair without realizing it. What if that was why the Granolith - self-serving bastard that it was - had sent her to this universe? This Michael was closed off to everything, human and alien, he was completely selfish, and he didn't give a damn about humans - individually or as a race… well, unless it involved him getting laid. He did give a damn about that.
The Granolith knew the future, knew that Khivar was certain to be entertaining thoughts of destroying the human race, and that meant that it was also aware of the fact that Michael was necessary to their victory in that war. What if she was there to awaken that side of him, to explain his origins, to help him train, so that when the time was right he could become the leader he was created to be. Could the Granolith have known how her Michael had changed because of their relationship? Was it possible that it had sent her to this universe, to this Michael, to make him care about humans? Did it somehow think that just because she had won her Michael's heart in her universe that she could manage it with this Michael?
What if that was the key? What if that was how she was going to get back home? Could that be it? Help this Michael find his way to being the leader he was supposed to be and the Granolith would send her back home… before the accident occurred so that she could prevent her Michael from going near that cliff.
That was possible. She frowned. But, if that was the Granolith's reasoning for sending her to this universe, it seemed cruel. Why put her in a position to earn his trust, get him to open up, and then leave him? Maybe she was looking too deeply into it. Yeah, that was it.
She glanced down when the sound of ripping fabric caught her attention and she swore out loud when saw the strip of material that she had pulled free. On top of everything else, he was a bad influence, she thought. She had noticed that the more time she spent around him the easier it was to swear creatively.
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Cairo was not one of Michael's favorite places for business or pleasure. It was dry, dusty, and even in the middle of December it was almost seventy degrees. He could have that at home, just without all the dryness and the sand that got into everything; at least there was moisture in the air back home. Another thing that really bugged him was the constant crowds that were everywhere… and seriously, didn't these people ever bathe? It wasn't bad enough that it was hot, he had sand in places he didn't even wanna think about, and there was a virtual sea of people always pushing and shoving to get wherever they were going. But on top of all that there was the constant stench that lingered in the air, and combined with everything else, it was making his stay in the overcrowded city unbearable.
For the past seven days they had been chasing down leads that had yet to yield anything solid on Basara, and Marcos was as close to antsy as he had ever seen the man. They had met with several sources, gathering information, tracking down leads, but so far they had only come up with false leads and dead ends.
"This is fuckin' bullshit," Marcos muttered as he viciously cut into his roasted duck.
Michael glanced around, carefully watching for any signs that anyone was paying any attention to them or what was being said. He speared a large piece of his beef fillet and brought it up to his mouth, biting into it and chewing slowly as he kept watch and let the man rant until he started to run out of steam.
"I know what's ridin' on findin' this guy, Marcos, but you need to get yourself under control before you do somethin' stupid. You were hopin' we'd be in an' out without any complications and that's not the way it's gone down, but you're gonna have to get your head on straight before we meet with that informant tomorrow." He shook his head. "You beat the fuck outta that last one when his information ended up bein' no good, and," he shrugged, "okay, we almost walked into the business end of an automatic weapon, so he deserved it. But you're not thinkin' clearly and you need to do whatever it is that you do to get your head screwed on straight."
Marcos was pissed that things weren't going the way he had hoped, but he knew Guerin was right. He reached for the beer the waiter had placed on the table, frowning when it wasn't where he remembered it being before.
"One o'clock," Michael muttered, letting Marcos know where the bottle was in relation to his plate. "Waiter moved it when he brought your salad."
"Fuckin' bastard." He hated the dim interior of the restaurant because it made it more difficult to see with his limited eyesight, but alcohol wasn't served at most restaurants in the city and finding one that also served roasted duck hadn't left them with many options. "Cailyn always watches the waiters to make sure they don't move shit when I'm not lookin'." A rare grin slid over the man's features. "She thinks I don't know she does it, but I know; I've seen her do it out of habit when we go out durin' the day and the lighting's better."
"And you let her do that?"
"I figure if she's willin' to stick around and put up with all my shit the least I can do is let her take care of me however she thinks is best."
"You've gone soft in your old age," Michael muttered, taking a drink of his beer.
"Possibly, but she understands me in a way no one else does. Most women aren't gonna even be willin' to put up with the shit this job requires. You think another woman would've just accepted my decision to come after Basara?" He shook his head as he leaned forward to bring Michael's shadowed figure into better focus. "She didn't want to, but she knows what it means to me so she put a lid on what she really wanted to say. I need to be able to close this chapter of my life, but it needs to be final when it happens." He took a long drink of his beer before leaning back in his chair so he could light a cigar. "Y'know, she'd kill me if she caught me smokin' these damn things." He chuckled as he pictured her reaction.
"I understand the revenge angle in goin' after Basara, but it seems like there's somethin' else goin' on."
"Well, I sure as fuck can't ask Cailyn to marry me with this motherfucker hidin' in the wings, waitin' to step outta the past and screw up what's left of my future."
Michael laughed out loud. "You're fuckin' kiddin' me; men like us don't get that involved, Marcos."
"Because it makes us weak?" Marcos waved a hand dismissively. "Havin' someone who knows the darkest corners of your soul and still accepts you can only make you stronger, Michael. She has no idea that I'm gonna ask her; I've never given her any reason to think that I ever would, but it hasn't stopped her from bein' with me." He nodded when he felt the weight of the younger man's stare. "You think it's a mistake."
"I think you're getting old and it's startin' to affect your brain. Seriously, Marcos, you're probably the last man I'd expect to be hearin' this bullshit from."
"Don't get me wrong, kid, I'm still a cynic… twenty years doin' this kinda work has pretty much ensured that won't change, but, I'm willin' to take the chance."
Michael shook his head in disbelief. "You've obviously lost your last fuckin' operational brain cell." He rolled his eyes and checked Marcos' bottle before signaling for two more beers from their nearby waiter. The meeting with the informant the next day couldn't come soon enough, he thought. Marcos hadn't exactly started spouting poetry or reciting sonnets, but the fact that the man was talking about marriage with a straight face was reason enough to make him uncomfortable as hell.
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Maria glanced at the calendar behind the bar, feeling a wave of sadness and loneliness wash over her when she realized that Christmas was just a few days away. This would be the first year in too long that she would be facing the holidays without Michael… her Michael, not the one from this universe, who probably had no understanding or concept of what the holiday was all about.
She had completely missed Thanksgiving, but she wasn't really shocked to learn that he hadn't even recognized the holiday or thought to mention it. She frowned as she looked around the bar, wondering why it wasn't decorated with any holiday ornamentation. The music was the same kind that was played all of the time; there was no holiday music or lyrics.
"You've got somethin' on your mind," Gabriel rasped from behind her. "And for some reason, that always makes me nervous."
"Have you thought about decorating for Christmas? Or maybe asking the band to play some Christmas carols?"
He almost laughed, but she looked so serious that he caught himself just in time. "Uh, no. These people aren't here to experience the wonders of the season, Maria; they come here to forget. Most of them don't have family… they don't have anywhere else to be. Some of them do have family, but they're not wanted; the last thing they want is to be reminded of the holidays and what they don't have."
Maria was disappointed. No way was she going to experience the Christmas spirit in Gabriel's bar. "Oh. Well, I guess that's understandable."
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter. "You really get into all that holiday stuff, huh?" He nodded when she gave him a slight smile. He knew she was worried about Guerin; the man had been gone for almost two weeks without a single effort being made to communicate with her. She had asked a couple of times if he had heard from the man, and he had regretted having to tell her that he hadn't had any contact with him. "Well, I tell ya what; we don't do Christmas here at the bar, but if you wanna come by tomorrow afternoon I can take you someplace that does. I know you're off tomorrow night, but - "
"No, that's fine, really," Maria assured him, eager to get out of the house and be around other people.
He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Cool. Be here around noon."
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Michael ducked back behind a column as another wave of bullets whizzed by him, grazing the concrete and spraying him with tiny bits of rock that cut into his left arm. "I've just about had my fill of bein' shot at," he yelled, knowing Marcos wasn't far away.
"Tell me about it," the man shouted back.
He heard the distinct sound of an automatic weapon being reloaded and he ducked down, firing off his last couple of shots to distract the man who had claimed to have information on Basara.
"You ready, Guerin?"
Michael took several deep, calming breaths, knowing that he had to be the one to draw the enemy's fire and hopefully lure him back towards Marcos' position. He was out of ammunition, so he was going to be nothing more than a moving target. "Yeah, let's do it." He ran across the front of the building, using the wide columns for cover, ducking and dodging the bullets being sprayed in his direction.
Marcos' hands were steady as he held the automatic rifle up to his shoulder, tracking Michael's movements as he slowly made his way towards him. A shadowed figure occasionally popped up behind the columns, never far behind Michael, and he felt his heartbeat begin to pound as he lined the man up in his sights. A few more feet and he'd have him… just a few more feet. He knew he wouldn't have been able to do this if it weren't the middle of the day in a deserted part of the city; the bright sunlight brought the shadowed figures into focus and allowed him to target their assailant.
His finger gently brushed against the side of the trigger, sliding to the front as Michael ran full out towards him, dodging bullets as he dove behind the column Marcos was using for cover. The fool chasing him momentarily got caught up in the chase, stepping away from his own cover, and leaving himself open. He realized it too late and he was close enough that Marcos could see his shadowed expression fill with fear as he realized his mistake. His body jerked with every bullet that slammed into his flesh and his weapon clattered to the ground seconds before he did.
Marcos and Michael glanced at each other before stepping out from behind the column and moving to make sure the man was dead.
"Yeah, this bastard ain't goin' nowhere," Michael muttered, viciously kicking the body.
"Fucker's playin' with us." Marcos looked around, squinting as he tried to see into the distance while Michael made the call to have the body collected and disposed of.
Michael felt the small hairs at the back of his neck stand up and he adjusted his sunglasses as he looked around. "There's someone else out there."
"Basara."
He wasn't expecting it when Marcos ran down the steps and out into the open and he chased after the man, launching himself at him and taking both of them to the sandy ground. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he snarled, doing his best to drag Marcos back to the relative safety of the building they had been using for cover.
Marcos was depending on his years of experience and training as he turned on Michael, extracting himself from the younger man's grip. "Don't treat me like a fuckin' child, Guerin!" His right hand balled into a fist and he swung, connecting solidly with the left side of the man's jaw.
"Quit fuckin' actin' like one."
They pushed and pulled, exchanging blows as Michael fought to get him out of the open. He lost the upper hand when Marcos landed a blow against the side of his head that momentarily stunned him.
"Come out and face me, you fuckin' coward!" Marcos shouted as he stood away from anything that could be considered cover and held his arms open wide.
Michael saw the sunlight reflect off of a scope on the roof of a nearby building and he yelled at Marcos to get down, but it was too late. The single bullet impacted the older man square in the center of his chest and Michael noted that the shooter was already gone by the time he reached the man lying on the ground.
He ripped the man's shirt open, breathing a ragged sigh of relief when he realized that the bullet hadn't penetrated the armored vest he was wearing. "Are you fuckin' insane?" he snapped when he saw Marcos' eyes shoot open.
"He's makin' a point," he grumbled as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "If he wanted me dead he would've aimed at my head instead of my chest. He knew I'd be wearin' a – "
"No, we've played this your way since we got here. I'm not takin' you home in a fuckin' body bag; I will not be the one that tells Cailyn that you were too goddamn stupid to…" He shook his head as he checked Marcos' pockets, pushing the man's hands away when he tried to stop him. He located the cell phone he was looking for and he scrolled down to find the number he wanted and hit the call button.
"Guerin, don't call…" He trailed off when the younger man started talking, relieved to hear that he was speaking with Xavier and not Cailyn. He listened to Michael as he yelled into the phone, trying to extract information from the man on the other end. He chuckled when the call suddenly ended and the phone was thrown at him, and he winced when it landed against the rapidly bruising area where the bullet had impacted. "Why'd you use my phone?"
"Because mine's in about a dozen pieces after fightin' with you. You're actin' like a fuckin' rookie and you're gonna get us both killed if you keep goin' off like that, Marcos."
"He's getting impatient; he wants this over as much as I do. Help me up, my chest hurts like hell."
"Wouldn't be a problem if you had stayed under cover, asshole."
"I'm sick of this game he's playin'," Marcos huffed as he was helped to his feet. "I want it over with so I can go home."
"He could've just as easily put a bullet in your head."
"That motherfucker's playin' with us; he's not ready to kill me just yet." He leaned over to catch his breath, rubbing his chest. "You ruined my favorite shirt," he grumbled.
Michael's gaze slid over the man's loud Hawaiian shirt and he shook his head. "That thing needed to be taken out and burned before I ever touched it."
Marcos shrugged Michael's hands off and finished brushing the sand from his favored shirt. "I'll have you know Cailyn picked this shirt out." He frowned. "What, you don't believe me?"
"No, I believe you," he said, shaking his head. "No self-respecting man would pay good money for somethin' that looks like that, and the fact that you wear it in public only confirms what I already knew - you've lost your last fuckin' operational brain cell."
Marcos laughed at the younger man's tone, watching him as he turned to motion towards the vehicles driven by people that had been sent in by Xavier to clean up the scene. "Let's get back to the hotel and figure out what our next move's gonna be."