Ending Two, Part 10 (or Part 86)
Darkness surrounded her and an agonized scream fought to free itself from the confines of her chest as she stared at Michael's lifeless body. The darkness made no sense because she was aware of faint sunlight breaking through the clouds overhead. She could feel the cool air against her skin and hear the rushing of the recently filled river behind her but it held a surreal quality.
The only thing that felt real was the pain radiating out from every nerve ending as she reached out to touch Michael's face. His skin was cold to the touch and it sent shivers racing through her entire body. Her hand slid down to rest over his heart and she swallowed with difficulty at the lack of movement beneath her palm. He was gone. The thing that made him a living, breathing being was gone.
"It's not real." She spoke the words aloud, needing to hear them, needing them to erase the scene before her and make it true. She forced herself to her feet and backed away from him, stumbling over the loose rocks beneath the soles of her shoes. She turned and started to run, unaware of the low tree limbs brushing against her, the leafless branches clawing at her as if they were trying to make her stay.
She suddenly broke free of the wooded area, tripping over something heavy and feeling the breath leave her lungs in an almost painful rush when she collided with a solid object. Before she could back away her upper arms were gripped painfully and she was shoved back but not released. Her heart was pounding so fast she couldn't catch her breath and as she looked up she felt it nearly stutter to a halt.
"Michael."
He stared at her but in spite of the fact that it was his eyes she knew it wasn't him. She cocked her head to one side as she studied his harsh features. It wasn't him but at the same time… it was. He looked confused. Despite the cold demeanor she could see the warring emotions in his dark eyes. Disbelief, confusion, fear, anger… love. She would recognize that emotion no matter how deeply buried it was and when her muscles shifted, indicating her intent to move her arm he released her.
"You're him," she whispered softly as she touched the warm flesh of his face.
His eyes traced over her, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. "You can't be here," he said hoarsely.
Maria shook her head in an effort to understand what was happening. This wasn't real. It was a dream. Or a nightmare, she wasn't sure which. Michael was dead, but he wasn't. The emotions rolling off of the man standing before her were so intense they were almost physical. "It's just a dream."
"If you're here then something went wrong in your universe."
Anger suddenly flooded his features again but she didn't understand it. She could feel the tension in his taut body and she brought her other hand up to rest against his cheek. "This isn't real," she assured him.
"Bullshit!" he snapped but didn't pull away from her touch. "I've gone back in time and I've made sure Max and Isabel won't be killed going back to Roswell. The only way I can be seeing you is if we've failed. If the mission was a success you'd be…" he mentally did the math, "…eight or nine years old." His dark eyes moved over her heatedly and he shook his head in denial. "Something's not right though. You're not… you're not her."
She wasn't sure she understood what he was talking about. "Not who?"
"Maria."
"I am Maria," she insisted.
He shook his head again. "You're not my Maria."
She swallowed hard at the sadness in eyes that were so familiar and yet so different at the same time. "She didn't fail," she whispered. "You're alive in my universe. When the Granolith returned her… me… it allowed her the opportunity to intercept Michael on his way to work the day before the accident."
"She convinced him," he murmured as his eyes traced over her face.
Maria watched as different emotions raced across his face but this time relief was the one most prominent. She held her breath when he lifted his right hand to cradle her cheek and she unconsciously rubbed her face against the unfamiliarly calloused palm. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"I didn't do anything."
"You had the strength to let her go." She rested her palm over his heart, feeling sadness overwhelm her at the dull thud that matched the grief in his eyes.
"It wasn't my choice alone," he said after a while. "She would've been free in my universe. She could've been with me openly, without fear that federal agents would come knocking down the door in the middle of the night."
"It hurt her to leave you." Maria knew that with certainty. "But she knew you had the better chance of surviving and being happy."
"Happiness is overrated," he bit out.
"Is it?" she countered, standing her ground when he looked ready to explode at her question. "You said you've been successful – "
He interrupted with a wave of his hand. "So far. It's not over yet."
"What more – "
"Why does it matter? She's gone and you have your life back."
"But she's not gone!"
"She is gone," he denied angrily. "She'll never exist."
Maria opened her mouth to disagree with him but the wind suddenly picked up, whipping through the trees around them and whisking his words away. She was straining to hear him, uselessly trying to understand what he was telling her, but the noise overrode his voice and as she watched he was pulled away, sucked into the dark of night. She looked around as the wind abated as quickly as it had escalated and she was surrounded by a deafening silence. The feeling of loss hit her all over again and she raised her voice to call for him.
Michael was pulled out of a deep sleep when a scream ripped through the night and every sense went into overdrive as he scanned the dark recesses of the bedroom he shared with Maria. He reached out to her as he mentally checked off every possible threat and discarded it. He pulled her into his arms and called her name, trying to wake her without scaring her.
Tears were escaping from her closed eyes to trail over her cheeks and he wondered what was bothering her so badly that it had intruded on her sleeping mind. He called her again and shook her as he reached up to gently brush the tears away.
"Michael," she gasped as she came awake, throwing her arms around him and holding onto him tightly.
He held her close, running his hands over her back and trying to calm her down. Her body was shaking and he knew whatever the nightmare was it had been intense. Even as the tremors began to subside he could feel how taut her muscles remained in spite of his attempts to soothe her.
"Wanna tell me about it?" he murmured against her temple. Her hands, fisted against his bare back, clenched tighter as she drew in a deep, gulping breath.
"I saw him."
He leaned back and angled his head to look at her. "Who?"
"You in that other universe."
"Maria, I don't think that's possible."
"I know what I saw, Michael!"
He grabbed her hand and held her still when she started to pull away. "Tell me what happened." She had listened to him when he had returned home with a fantastic story about being intercepted by a future version of her so the least her could do was listen to what she had to say.
"He was you, but different. He was relieved that the Maria he sent back had been able to alter events and save your life but he was so hurt and angry because she was gone. He kept saying she would never exist."
"She won't," he said quietly. "Think about it, Maria. The version of you he knew will never exist. She went to his universe and what she went through there would've changed her, made her… different. Even if he succeeds in changing things in his universe, that version of you won't be the woman he knew." He lay back against the pillows with her in his arms and yawned widely.
Maria snuggled close to him, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart and savoring the feeling of his skin against hers. "He was in love with her."
"Of course he was." He shrugged one shoulder, jostling her.
"If he succeeds in changing his universe, he won't be the same person either," she mused. "They'll still find each other, don't you think?"
"Can you imagine the two of us in any universe where we're not together?"
She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his chest. "No." She sobered as her mind went back to the beginning of the nightmare.
"What're you thinkin' about?" he asked when she became too quiet.
"You were dead. I saw you…" She reached up to rub her chest, trying to ease the ache there. "It was like I could feel that you weren't there anymore. You were gone and I couldn't bring you back."
"You did bring me back, Maria." He kissed the top of her head and rubbed his hand over her arm. "I'm here."
She smiled when she felt the familiar calluses on his palm rasping against her skin. "Let's stay in tonight. Just make dinner and watch a movie or something."
Michael decided not to comment on the fact that most of the time when they went out it was for groceries or some other necessary thing. "Whatever you want."
Maria sighed and closed her eyes as his heartbeat slowly lulled her back to sleep. She had come so close to losing him, so close to being left alone, and by some miracle she had been spared that loss. "Don't ever leave me, Michael," she murmured.
"Never gonna leave you, Maria," he vowed. He smiled and tightened his hold on her for a moment before relaxing it again so he wouldn't wake her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Michael stared at the woman he held at arms' length, his sharp gaze assessing as he did his best to hide his shock. He didn't understand what was going on but he knew she wasn't his Maria. She was the same woman, but at the same time she wasn't. It was a part of him he only recognized because of his time with Maria rejoiced at seeing her alive, but the rational part of him balked, refusing to believe it.
"You're him."
He could sense her amazement as she reached out to touch him as if to confirm that he were real even as he was struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. "You can't be here," he said hoarsely. "If you're here then something went wrong in your universe." He felt the anger erupt inside of him. Anger at the Granolith for screwing them over, anger at himself for letting her go, and even anger at her for going. He heard her deny that the moment was real and it enraged him.
He jerked away from her, unable to stand her touch. "I've gone back in time and I've made sure Max and Isabel won't be killed going back to Roswell. The only way I can be seeing you is if we've failed. If the mission was a success you'd be…" he mentally did the math, "…eight or nine years old." His dark eyes moved over her heatedly and he shook his head in denial. "Something's not right though. You're not… you're not her."
"Not who?"
He saw the confusion on her face as she voiced the question and it had hurt to deny what he was seeing. "Maria."
"I am Maria," she insisted.
He shook his head again. "You're not my Maria." Suddenly he understood exactly what Maria had meant when she had insisted on referring to the Michael she had known in her universe as 'her Michael'.
"She didn't fail," she whispered. "You're alive in my universe. When the Granolith returned her… me… it allowed her the opportunity to intercept Michael on his way to work the day before the accident."
"She convinced him," he murmured as his eyes traced over her face. He watched her, not missing it when she held her breath as he lifted his right hand to cradle her cheek. He felt an ache deep inside when she rubbed her face against the unfamiliarly calloused palm.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He didn't understand why she was thanking him. "I didn't do anything."
"You had the strength to let her go."
He swallowed hard when she rested her palm over his heart and he wondered what was causing her sadness. "It wasn't my choice alone," he said after a while. "She would've been free in my universe. She could've been with me openly, without fear that federal agents would come knocking down the door in the middle of the night."
"It hurt her to leave you," she said with certainty. "But she knew you had the better chance of surviving and being happy."
"Happiness is overrated," he bit out.
"Is it? You said you've been successful – "
He interrupted with a wave of his hand. "So far. It's not over yet."
"What more – "
"Why does it matter? She's gone and you have your life back." He resented her for that, hated that this other version of her had what he and his Maria had been denied.
"But she's not gone!"
"She is gone," he denied angrily. "She'll never exist." He saw her open her mouth to disagree but the wind suddenly picked up. He could feel the darkness pulling at him and somewhere inside of him he welcomed it. She was gone. This woman standing before him wasn't the woman he loved. She was… but she wasn't. The darkness finally pulled him away and he felt himself falling.
Michael awoke with a start and he pushed himself up, shaking his head and looking around to get his bearings. "Sonofabitch," he muttered and rubbed his shoulder where it had impacted with the floor when he had fallen out of bed.
He got to his feet and went to the bathroom, leaving the light off as he turned the faucet on and splashed water in his face. Where had that dream come from? It had felt so real but at the same time he didn't believe it was possible. If it had been real that meant that his Maria had ceased to exist and that thought hurt. It also meant that somehow, some way, the Granolith had given her the opportunity to alter events in her universe and save his counterpart. If the dream were real, then she had saved his life, and although the woman he loved no longer existed, their younger selves had the chance to live their lives out together.
Michael walked out of the bathroom, drying his face on a hand towel, and moving to the window that looked out over the parking lot. His gaze settled on the blue car down below and he smirked to himself. He had managed to hitch a ride with a truck driver heading out west and gotten off when the man stopped at a truck stop in Dallas. Finding out where the Evans family was staying only took a matter of a few minutes once he had gotten his hands on a computer and hacked into the father's bank account to check his recent transactions.
People should really lock their private information up even in their homes, he mused as he scratched the back of his head. He wondered if people knew just how easy it was to steal and access that information. He sat down at the table by the window and took his confiscated gun out, breaking it down to clean it. It was mindless work, something he could do in his sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore after that dream.
He didn't understand why he had let her go. He should've just said screw it and kept her with him. He could've kept her safe. The woman you saw wasn't the woman you knew, he reminded himself. She wasn't the woman who knew you. She had seemed to feel sad for him, but he could sense the underlying relief that her Michael was alive and well. She had somehow recognized him but she hadn't known him beyond that.
He shoved those thoughts away. He couldn't risk bogging himself down with a bunch of confusing, emotional crap. He needed to keep his senses sharp because his mission wasn't yet complete. He still had things to do and he had come too far to just throw it all away now.