Part 33
Michael opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he looked around the room in confusion. He vaguely remembered coming into her bedroom because the living room was just too far away and despite the desire to snap at her and somehow place the blame for his current location on her he still felt tired and worn out so he let it pass.
"Hey, dinner's ready and I know you probably don't feel like it, but you need to try to eat something. The longer you go without eating the weaker you're gonna feel." She watched him push himself up into a sitting position, breaking out into a sweat when it took more of an effort than it should have. "Do you feel like eating in the kitchen or do you want me to bring your dinner to you?"
He started to swing his legs over the side of the bed but a wave of dizziness caused the room to swim drunkenly before his eyes so he slowly leaned back against the headboard. "Maybe I'll just stay here," he muttered. "Hey, did you happen to pick up that new movie that I said I wanted to see?"
She nodded affirmatively. "Do you want me to bring it in here so you can watch it?"
"Why else would I ask that question?" he snapped irritably.
Maria had to bite her tongue to avoid lashing out in response to his tone but she managed to hold it in until she got to the kitchen. God, why did he have to be so damned difficult? She placed the bed tray on the counter and filled a bowl with soup before sitting it on the tray along with a saucer containing a handful of crackers. After pouring a carbonated soda into a chilled glass she placed it on the tray and carried it to him, stopping in the living room to retrieve his movie.
"What the fuck is this?" he snapped when she settled the tray over his lap and moved to put the movie into the player beneath the television set. "I'm not a six-year-old who stayed home from school with an upset stomach."
"No, you're a twenty-five-year-old man who's acting like a six-year-old. The flight from Cairo took, what, nineteen or twenty hours? Then another hour to get home, which, by the way tacks on another eighteen hours. So, you haven't eaten in probably forty hours, give or take an hour or two; you're weak and nauseas no matter how much you deny it, and if you eat a heavy meal, trust me, you're gonna regret it."
Michael dragged the spoon through the bowl of soup and as the scent wafted up to tease his nose his mouth watered and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. He glanced up when the remote for the DVD player landed on the bed next to his right leg, frowning when he realized that Maria was on her way out of the room. "Where're you goin'?"
"You're not in any mood for company so I'm gonna go watch TV in the living room."
His appetite faded into the background when she continued on her way out of the room and he turned his attention back to his dinner. It wasn't soup out of a can, he thought as he dragged his spoon through the noodles, small chunks of chicken, diced celery and carrots. He had noticed that she hardly ever used anything that came out of a can, claiming that it was processed, full of preservatives, and lacking in any inherent nutritional value.
He suddenly became annoyed when she didn't come back as he had expected her to do and he glanced around, looking for something he could use to get her attention. He winced as he reached for the book on the nightstand and he felt his wounded body protest against the movement. He transferred the book to his left hand and threw it as well as he could, snarling under his breath when it hit the doorframe and fell to the floor. He looked around for something else to throw, even going so far as to consider using his rarely-used powers to do so as his gaze settled on the tray in front of him. She's gonna be pissed. He didn't care. He was tired of sitting around by himself and if she was gonna be around anyway she could at least make herself useful and keep him company.
He took the crackers off of the saucer and stacked them on the tray before picking the saucer up and throwing it just by willing it. Satisfied that he had made enough noise, he nodded. Those powers came in handy now that he had started to get a grasp on them. Like the book, it hit the doorframe, but it clattered loudly as it hit the floor and Maria was standing in the doorway before the saucer had settled into place.
"What're you doing?" she asked as she leaned down to pick up the saucer and book he had thrown. She glanced at the tray as she walked around the bed to put the book back on the nightstand. "You're not eating."
"You said you were gonna watch this movie when we saw the previews."
Maria bit back a smile at his petulant tone. "You're also irritable and not in the mood - "
"Yeah, whatever. You could at least stick around while I eat. What if I choked on my food?" He pointed at the saucer in her hand. "See what I had to do just to get your attention? I could die in the time it takes for you to get in here."
"Fine," she gave in, shaking her head as she set the saucer on the nightstand. "I'll stay in here and watch the movie with you as long as you eat your dinner and be quiet. And eat slowly because if you eat too fast you're not gonna keep it down."
He didn't argue with her for once; he just settled back more comfortably and followed her directions, eating slowly and savoring every bite. He paused the movie when he was finished, intending to start it again when she came back with a second bowl of soup.
Maria waited several minutes before she walked back to her room, empty-handed. She had been pretty sure that he wouldn't stay awake for very long after eating and she had been right. He had slid down under the covers, curled up on his side facing the TV, but he was sound asleep. She crept around the bed and placed her palm against his forehead, checking for any sign of fever. Once she was convinced that he was fine she turned the TV off, tugged the blankets up over his shoulder, and because she couldn't help herself, she leaned down over him and pressed a kiss to his temple.
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Michael was dozing on the couch a couple of days later when the sound of jingling keys woke him up. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, noticing that it was early evening.
"Where're you goin'?" he asked when Maria came in and replaced the glass of lemonade on the coffee table with a fresh glass.
"I've gotta go to work," she answered, anticipating his arguments. "I've already called in twice this week to stay home and take care of you. Which I didn't mind," she hurried to add, "but you're doing just fine now and Gabriel needs me because he's short-handed tonight."
"What am I supposed to do for dinner?" he asked, pouting because she wasn't going to be there to take care of him.
Maria sighed. She was afraid that she had spoiled him. "There's a casserole in the oven and a salad in the refrigerator; let the casserole bake for an hour and then take it out. All you have to do is take it out of the oven and put it on a plate. Oh, and there are a couple of movies on the coffee table; I picked them up for you when I ran to the store earlier. The clerk assured me there was plenty of action, violence, and guns, so you should enjoy them."
Michael wandered through the house after she left, and for the first time in his life he was unnerved by the silence.
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"How's Guerin doin'?" Gabriel asked after everyone else had left for the night.
"Much better. I think he's finally getting over that cold." Michael hadn't wanted anyone to know that he had been wounded on his last assignment, so he had told her to make something up if anyone asked about him.
"Well, it's that time of the year again, and if he had that bug that's been goin' around I can understand why it knocked him on his ass." He watched her as she twisted the strap of her purse around her hand before untwisting it and doing it all over again. He knew she wouldn't have left Guerin alone if she didn't think he was well enough to be left on his own, but he had a feeling she would've been much more at ease if the man had been at the bar where she could've been keeping an eye on him.
"I'd better get going, Gabriel."
Maria drove in silence, stopping at the twenty-four hour supermarket in the small town about half an hour from home. She wanted to pick up some fresh strawberries for breakfast; Michael loved them on his pancakes and she knew they were out of them. She was studying the available selection of strawberries when a young couple caught her attention. They were arguing over something that was probably trivial but seemed monumental in that moment. The girl suddenly turned and stalked away and the guy shook his head and sighed in exasperation before chasing after her. He grabbed her arm, holding her still so he could move in front of her.
"Y'know you're gonna forgive me," he said, his tone teasing.
"Maybe later, but right now I don't even wanna see you."
"Ah, c'mon, y'know you love me, honey."
Maria snorted with laughter when the girl capitulated, going willingly into his arms and hugging him tightly. Come on, honey, we don't have to lie. The memory of Michael's words came back to her and she smiled at them. His voice, low and gruff as he implied that there was more to the scene their friends had walked in on than there really was. It wasn't until much later that she had realized that he had done it to get a rise out of her and to prevent anyone from detecting that something real had happened between them.
The smile began to fade when she felt something in her chest begin to tear and she turned to hurry from the store. She bypassed the Range Rover in favor of walking along the deserted streets of the small town, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest in an effort to hold herself together. The pressure in her chest was building and the feeling that something inside was being torn only increased as the pain she had been burying for so long clawed to get out.
Without even realizing it she began to run, paying no attention to where she was going, just knowing that she needed to outrun the pain. She entered a small park, the chains on the swings creaking ominously as they swayed back and forth, put into motion by the cool wind blowing across the playground.
She stumbled along, uncaring of the branches that slashed against the bare flesh of her arms and not feeling the cold air as it brushed over her exposed skin. The tear in her chest was getting bigger and she felt like she was being shredded from the inside out as the pain slowly dragged itself to the surface, refusing to be denied any longer.
She tripped on one of the railroad ties that had been placed on either side of the path that wound through the park and she hit her knees when she lost her balance. Her hands shot out to stop her descent and bits of gravel dug into her palms as they slid against the uneven ground. The physical pain went unnoticed, and after several attempts to push herself to her feet she gave up and shifted around so she was sitting on the hard ground.
Tears ran down her cheeks, forced from deep within despite her attempts to contain them. She had managed to avoid dealing with losing Michael for months, focusing only on her belief that she could change time, events, and alter her own reality to bring him back, but time was passing and she had achieved none of those things. He was still lost to her and as she sat there in a crumpled, hopeless, and shattered heap on the ground, the pain that she had been denying for so long finally broke free.
The grief hit her in unrelenting waves, stripping away all of her defenses and leaving her feeling broken and more alone than she had ever felt in her life. Any awareness of her surroundings was lost as the first choked, agonized sob was ripped from the very depths of her soul.
Images of Michael, his body broken and bloody as he lay on the ground next to a river intertwined with images of another Michael, wounded in a gun battle and suffering alone for hours as his life slowly bled away. Why could she save one but not the other? Why had she been sent to a place where she would have to deal with the possibility of losing him all over again? It was beyond the boundaries of what should ever be asked of any one single person.
Her fisted hands pounded against the ground in a sad mimicry of the pain that was assaulting her in a constant, unending onslaught. She leaned forward over her hands, her forehead braced against them as she rocked back and forth in an effort to shield herself against the pain. It was too much to control and she suddenly realized that she was tired of trying to hold it in, trying to prevent the pain from gaining a foothold. It had already escaped the confines holding it at bay; it was free, and it demanded recognition.
She never registered the sound of her own screams as they split the cold night air, unaware of anything beyond the bottomless well of pain and agony that had been laid open, leaving her soul raw and exposed.
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Michael sat up in bed and listened to the silence for several minutes before he reached over and turned on the lamp that sat on the nightstand. He glanced at the alarm clock to the right of the lamp and frowned when he saw that it was nearly four in the morning.
Where was Maria at? A quarter past three wasn't that unusual, but she was much later than normal and that wasn't like her. He glanced around, looking for his cell phone and then remembered that he wasn't in his own room. He had no understanding or explanation for his sudden preference for Maria's bed because it wasn't like she had changed her mind about them having sex. But, somehow, since the first night she had let him sleep in her bed while he was healing from the gunshot wound, he had managed to find his way back in there and she hadn't kicked him out yet.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching before going in search of his cell phone. He found it on the coffee table next to the movies she had picked up for him and he frowned when he checked it and didn't see any missed calls. He dialed her number and waited, counting the rings until it went to voicemail. Why wasn't she answering? She never got home this late and he was sure she would've called if she had run into trouble.
He paced back and forth in front of the television and for the first time it didn't occur to him to wonder why he was worried about her. He absently rubbed his palm over his chest, attempting to soothe the tight feeling that had taken up residence. Maybe she forgot her phone. That made sense, he thought. She was always forgetting something and running back for it at the last minute. He moved through the house once more, searching for her phone without considering that if she had left it he would have found it when he was looking for his own phone a short while ago.
Okay, maybe she had it with her and she just forgot to charge the damn thing. He nodded to himself, satisfied with that answer. That was the most likely reason… No, it still didn't explain why she hadn't made it home yet. His left hand shot out to grab the back of the couch when his chest contracted again, the sensation almost crushing in its intensity. "What the fuck is goin' on?" he hissed under his breath. He doubled over, his fingers clenching in the cushion under his hand as he fought to catch his breath.
Stop fighting it. The words whispered across his subconscious and he obeyed them without question, opening his mind to… well, he didn't know what exactly he was opening his mind up to. Something was wrong with Maria. He didn't know what it was, but he was certain of it. He grabbed his cell phone and the keys for the motorcycle before running out to the garage and hitting the button to open the door.
It didn't occur to him that he had no idea where he was going until he hit the paved road at the end of his driveway. He only knew that heading towards L.A. made sense because she would've come home from work the same way she went to work. As he drove his eyes were continually scanning both sides of the road for the truck, hoping to see that she had pulled over for some innocuous reason like a flat tire.
He didn't pay much attention to the easing pressure in his chest until he drove through the small town where he shopped anytime there was the option of avoiding the overcrowded stores in L.A. As he passed the city limits sign for the town the pressure in his chest tightened once more and he slowed down. He located a side road and turned around, the sole of his left boot barely skimming the asphalt as he leaned into the turn and went back into town.
The town was silent, the traffic lights blinking red or yellow in deference to the late hour. He drove slowly, letting the feeling in his chest guide him. He turned into the parking lot of the twenty-four-hour supermarket, momentarily relieved when he saw the truck. He parked next to it and rushed inside, grabbing the first employee he could find and demanding any information the woman had. He walked back outside mere minutes later, having discovered that Maria had been in the store an hour earlier but had left without making a single purchase.
Unlocking the drivers' side door he leaned inside and quickly located her purse and cell phone lying on the passengers' seat under her jacket. He sat behind the wheel for a few minutes, scanning the area around the supermarket. It wasn't cold out, but it was cool enough that exposure to the temperatures for an extended amount of time was certain to be uncomfortable.
Why would she just take off? It didn't make any sense for her to do anything like that. She could have been kidnapped, taken by someone who intended to hurt her in ways that he didn't even want to contemplate. He had seen plenty of the ugliness that existed in the world and he didn't want to think about any of that in connection with her.
He slid out from under the steering wheel and locked the door before slamming it shut. He walked around the truck, testing the pressure in his chest and realizing that it lessened considerably when he moved north. Pocketing his keys he took off in that direction and he settled into a jog, his pace quickening the more the pressure eased. He was getting closer to her, he could feel it, but while the pressure was dissipating a sense of urgency was quickly replacing it.
A scream ripped through the silence of the early morning hour and his movements quickened in response to the agonized sound. He slowed to a walk when he entered the city park, looking around for anything that seemed out of place. He knew he was in the right vicinity because the pressure was completely gone; he didn't understand how this thing worked, he just knew that it was responsible for him locating Maria.