Title: Finding Ulysses

Author: Peachykin

Rating: YTEEN for now will go ADULT

Pairing: Mi/L

Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. Unfortunately Katims did and now we're all just cleaning up his mess.

Spoliers: None

Summary:Six years after Graduation, Michael's got someone on his mind.

Chapter 2

Michael heard Liz say the words. She'd "found Ulysses", so that had to mean Max couldn't be with here, but for so long it was never one without the other. Since the day Max had healed her, even during their separations it had been MaxandLiz. Seeing her without him seemed foreign and he couldn't trust his eyes. He had to know…

"Where's Max?"

He regretted the question when he saw Liz's smile fall, and she cast her eyes to the floor. Her fists clenched at her sides and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before meeting Michael's gaze again, a confidence he'd never heard lacing her voice.

"I left him…nearly a year ago. I've been running ever since. I didn't know you were here it was an accident…I saw and ad and I took a chance…" she began to back away, tears filling her eyes, "I didn't mean to disrupt your life… I'll just…"

Her words were lost somewhere in the fabric that covered Michael chest, when as quick as lightening Michael had jumped over the bar and pulled her into his arms, engulfing her in a crushing hug. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her whole body relax at the safety, protection and most important, friendship he provided her with. Liz wasn't sure what her feelings for Michael were, or if they had definition. All she knew is that they ran deep and that part of becoming, who she was now, had something to do with him. But for the moment she just felt right sharing the same space with him.

Once Liz had announced her freedom from her old life Michael's felt his momentary paralyzation disappear, and as she began to retreat he practically flew to stop her. It was as though his heart wouldn't allow him to embrace Liz without her newfound independence. It was like she said all those years ago, he'd, "…just get sucked back in."

But there Liz was, without Max, without her old life, and he felt strength throughout her small body that had only been a flicker the night he left. He didn't know or even trust his feelings for the girl in his arms, but all he knew was that she was part of who he was now and of everyone in his old life, she was the one he'd thought of the most.

Sweet watched the two old friends holding onto each other as if they were the other's anchors. In the four years he'd known Michael, he'd never seen the boy this rattled by anyone, let alone a woman. Plenty of women tried, only to be rebuffed. Sweet had initially thought maybe Michael was gay, but when he saw the sadness in his eyes, he knew that no woman stood a chance with him because another one had either broken his heart, or still had an invisible hold on it.

Something, or someone, weighed heavily on that boy's heart and the spark Sweet saw in Michael's eyes the minute Liz walked in the door…. Well, Mrs. Johnston didn't raise any fool; this girl brought his young friend to life.

Liz also seemed to be a part of Michael's past that had been made clear early on in his friendship with Sweet he didn't talk about. Sweet had never been inclined to press Michael, but seeing his near joy with Liz, he gathered she was a least a good part of that past. Maybe the only good part. The way the large boy held her in his arms, the reasons for the boy's blues at such a young age became clearer to the weathered old man. Sweet finally felt he'd walked, at least a few steps, in Michael's over-sized shoes.

"How did you find me?" Michael asked Liz as he pulled back, unconsciously wiping away the happy tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

Liz let out a giggle, "I told you, it was an accident. I saw an ad for a waitress at the college job board. When I saw the name of the club, Ulysses and then your name at the bottom…" she let out a small laugh, "Michael Joyce? Well I had to take a chance that it could be you. I wasn't looking for you…"

"Guess I'm not that hard to find." Michael chuckled.

"Oh you are, Max looked for you for over a year after you left. He just didn't know where to look." Liz explained.

"But you did." He said softly, somehow knowing it would be her that would walk out of his past and back into his life. Like she was the only one who'd only really ever known him.

The urge to kiss her like he had the night he left was overwhelming, but he knew it was wrong, at least for now. Five years was a long time. He felt Liz had changed, but just how much and would he even fit in her life someway still had to be discovered. Or could she fit in his? Jesus, she was barely in his life again for two minutes and he was trying to figure out a way to make her a part of it? What happened to the hard edge he'd managed to maintain with everyone but Sweet? And why was he thinking about Liz that way?

The two old friends were so wrapped up in their reunion, they'd forgotten they weren't the only people in the deserted bar until Sweet cleared his throat. Michael broke his focus on the dark chocolate eyes staring up at him and released Liz from his embrace, turning to Sweet.

"Damn Sweet, I'm sorry," he took Liz's hand and guided her down the stairs for introductions, "Manners have never been my strong suit."

"Amen." Liz and Sweet said in unison, causing them all to laugh. Seems Michael hadn't completely changed everything about himself.

Sweet set down the broom and took Liz's hand in his own, "Sweet, this is Liz…" Michael began, but stopped, widening his eyes, unsure of what name Liz was going by now. When she was married to Max it had been Phillips, homage to Max's father, but she'd said she'd been on the run since leaving Max. She was bound to have changed it in that time.

"Jeffries." Liz provided, winking at Michael, " Liz Jeffries. I went back to my maiden name. Phillips doesn't fit anymore. Or at least it stopped a long time ago." Michael smiled; Liz had adopted her father's name as her own, and so in a small way she really had taken her old name back. Seemed fitting.

Sweet pretended not to notice the secret smile that passed between Michael and Liz, shaking the girl's hand gently, "Well it nice to meet you Ms. Jeffries. Melvin Walker Johnston, but everyone calls me Sweet. And anyone who can unravel the mystery of my boss here, is someone worth knowing."

Liz arched an eyebrow at the old man, "Now if you know anything about Michael, Mr. Johnston, Sweet, you know he loves being a mystery." She grinned leaning into whisper, "He likes to keep people guessing."

"And the crankiness?" Sweet asked as they both looked Michael over.

"Oh that's real, but I'm sure you know by now, it's one of his more charming features."

Sweet laughed heartily, "You most definitely have spent time with Boss man here. Although, how he left a beautiful thing like you behind, is a mystery that needs some solving."

"Well, there's no mystery as to why you are called Sweet." She mused at the old honey dripper.

"Okay, old timer," Michael said pulling Liz gently away from Sweet, "No flirting with women nearly three times your junior. Her heart couldn't take it."

"Can I help it if the ladies love me?" Sweet asked holding his hands up in mock innocence.

"I'll make sure to ask your four ex-wives, Sweet." Michael joked, before turning his attention back to Liz, "Look, I gotta finish the books, but after that we can catch up. Where are you staying?"

"Shit son," Sweet shook his head, "Go on up to your place, I'll close up. You two have a lot to catch up on."

"You sure?" Michael asked Sweet.

"Go on, Michael before I smack you on the head with this here broom. It'll be a cheap thrill for this old timer, I haven't ever seen you take a lady up to…"

"Uh…Thanks Sweet. See you tomorrow." Michael interrupted, dragging Liz with him outside to her car.

"Sure thing Son." The old man chuckled, waving at Liz as she tried to keep up with Michael's long strides, "Welcome to New Orleans Ms. Jeffries." He called out.

Once outside Michael immediately found Liz's Jeep, worn and dirty from many months spent on the road, "I just got into town, Michael. Where's a good place to stay?"

"With me." Michael told her opening the back to the car and taking out her belongings.

"Michael, I don't want to put you out…" Liz argued.

"Liz, I have three bedrooms one of which I'm not using and I told you to come find me. Now, if Max is still looking for you. You are staying with me." He said emphatically.

"Michael," Liz sighed, loving the fact that there were parts of his old persona he'd managed to hold onto, no matter how boorish they were, it was what made him Michael. "I don't need you to protect me from Max…"

"I know that." Michael said putting the bags down on the ground to scratch his eyebrow, "It's just been so long since I was able to protect anyone besides myself, it just feels right. Please. Stay with me?"

Liz swallowed back the lump in her throat. It had felt like only yesterday that she'd told Michael to go without her and she'd watched his tail lights disappear into the darkness along with a piece of her heart. Now, here they stood a few years older and definitely wiser and he was asking her to stay with him. In some ways it was if time had stood still and they were still those same two teenagers standing in the darkness on the edge of discovery and in others it had been a million years. They were both very different people now leading very different lives, could their paths meet? Or would they merely pass each other by?

"Liz?" Michael asked seeing the far off look in her eye.

Liz shook her head of her thoughts and wiped at her eyes, "Sorry. Um, I'll stay with you."

Michael smiled and picked her bags up again, motioning with his head for her to follow him up the stairs to his apartment. Liz took a moment to look him over and giggle. "What?" he asked

"Nothing." She shook her head, "It's just you look the same as you did the night you left. The long hair, the clothes…"

"For one thing the hair was never getting cut short again. Spikes were the statement of my youth. Besides chicks dig long hair…or so I'm told." He explained as they climbed the stairs, "Besides, It's only been five years."

"It's been a lifetime, Michael." Liz said quietly and bit mournfully as they stopped at the landing.

"Yeah," Michael agreed, "I guess you're right." He looked her over again, "But you still look the same Liz." Then paused, "I take that back. You look… freer."

Liz smiled, "I am."

Michael opened the door to the apartment and let Liz go in first while he carried in her bags. Liz could hardly believe her eyes when she took in the spacious apartment. It was a far cry from the government subsidized one bedroom he had back in Roswell. From the shiny hardwood floors, the crystal chandelier above the large dining room table to the enormous chef grade kitchen, it was spartanly decorated, but it all screamed Michael. It was simply amazing.

"Michael…" she said, almost breathlessly, "How did you…I mean the bar…and this place? How…?"

Michael smirked, "How can I afford it?"

Liz nodded dumbly, embarrassed for asking Michael such a question. Michael shook his head at her, telling her not to be embarrassed. It's not exactly like he'd ever been good with his money before, but time on the road and a little maturity had taught Michael the value of a dollar.

"I'll show you." He said cryptically, "After I put your stuff in your room."

"Okay." Liz agreed and followed him down the hall.

The first room they passed was small, the large unkempt bed taking up most of the room. It was obviously his. Liz chuckled to herself at the laundry strewn about the room, yet another sign that with Michael, old habits died hard. You can't teach a perpetual slob new tricks. She wouldn't want to.

She saw him disappear into the room a few feet down the hall from his. He set her bags on the neatly made double bed and passed his hand over the night stand and dresser, removing the layers of dust, "Sorry." He said sheepishly, "I don't exactly get a lot of guests."

Liz looked around the room, it was the same size and design as his, just looked less used. The walls were a pale blue and were a bit bare, but clean.

"You can fix it up however you want or I can do it for you…I mean I don't know how your powers…" He stuttered.

Liz grinned placing her hand on the wall, minute later a deep green replaced the pale blue, "I've been working on them."

"Martha Stewart has nothing on you." Michael joked.

Liz said she would unpack later and Michael quickly took her hand, "Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see." Michael said with an air of mystery.

"Michael, its one-o-clock in the morning…not my best mystery solving hour." Liz mock whined.

"Keep your panties on, Parker." He threw back as he tool her to the last bedroom at the end of the hall.

He opened the door and Liz followed him inside. It was obviously the master bedroom, but Michael had converted into a studio for his art. Canvas, oil, acrylic and watercolor paints were strewn about the area along with numerous sketchpads, charcoal and pastels. He had about five unfinished pieces on the floor depicting the city they way he saw it, vibrant, alive, organic.

"God Michael…you kept up with your art…Are you selling these?" Liz said in amazement.

"Like hotcakes." he said proudly, "Sweet, 'discovered', me not long after I got here. We were working in the same bar and he sorta stumbled onto my stuff. That man knows just about everyone in this damn town and introduced me to a friend of his. Gallery owner. She went nuts and took everything I had. The first batch I sold let me put a down payment on this building."

Liz studied some of the finished pieces recognizing places she'd seen on her way through the Big Easy. Her eye caught one theme throughout each piece. Amid all the bright colors and lights was a small woman, seemingly walking away through each piece, her long dark hair caught on the breeze. Everyone in the pictures was either sitting or standing in and their faces were visible, but her. Liz couldn't help but feel a kinship to this girl.

"Michael…is the m…" she started to ask, but Michael cleared his throat loudly and pointed at the large bay window, "I…uh… have a balcony. Do most of my sketching out there."

He walked over to the French doors and threw them open gesturing for Liz to step outside. Forgetting her earlier question about the woman in the painting, she stepped out onto the first balcony she'd been on in six years.

"God, I missed this." She said wistfully staring out onto the city. Her eye caught something off to the side and she giggled, "A lawn chair huh?"

"What?" Michael asked scratching his eyebrow, "It's comfortable."

Liz wiped her brow of the sweat that sparkled on it, "Well you went from the dry heat of the desert to the humid heat of the bayou."

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "You get used to it. Besides, I figure New Orleans was made for an alien like me. I can eat all the hot food I want and not have people look at me twice."

Liz laughed, "I remember you saying that when we first left Roswell."

"Yeah, but Max said it was stupid reason and we wound up in Colorado." Michael pointed out.

Liz nodded wiping her brow again. Michael realized, while he'd had time to adjust to the heat and humidity of a New Orleans mid-summer night, Liz had been traveling all over the place and hadn't adjusted to much of anything.

"I got some lemonade in the fridge," he told her, "Kind of a staple around here. You want some?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." Liz accepted, "You mind if I stay out here…it's been so long since…"

Michael nodded quickly, realizing how the balcony reminded her of the parents she'd left behind in Roswell and probably hadn't seen since they left, "Then you can tell me what's been going on in your life." He said.

"You have a lifetime?" Liz called out to Michael's retreating form.

"Lived two, Liz… think I can spare another." He answered.

~*~

When Michael returned to the balcony with a pitcher full of lemonade and two glasses filled with ice, he found Liz curled up on the lawn chair staring up at the sky. She must have heard the clomping of his Doc Martens on the wood floor because she started talking before he reached the open doors.

"So Michael… Joyce huh?" She mused, "Well, I like it. Much better than Michael Hetfield, anyway."

Michael rolled his eyes at her as he pulled out a chair from inside the studio and handed her a glass, "Hetfield, was a great name, but it was one of my youth. I wanted something that spoke of my adulthood." He said with comical pomposity.

Liz laughed, " I shouldn't tease. Since I left Max, I've been Liz Curie, Pasteur, Saulk and Faulkner."

"Jeffries is good name Liz." Michael told her, "It suits you."

"Well part of finding the new me, has to be rooted in who I was." She said seriously, "If I can't keep Parker, I might as well take some part of my parents."

Michael nodded his understanding and they sat in silence for a few minutes, the ever-present question burning on Michael's tongue. When the silence became too much he finally broke.

"Liz, why did you finally leave? I mean, what happened that made you decide to walk away?" he asked.

Liz hung her head for a moment and Michael watched fresh tears spring to her eyes immediately regretting asking her, "Shit Liz, I'm sorry. You don't have to answer…"

Liz held up her hand, "No it's okay, Michael." She wiped her eyes taking a deep breath, "A big part of the why I left was for me. You and I both know how much I was suffocating… But what made me finally walk away… was Alexis."

"Alexis?" Michael asked puzzled then felt his anger rise, "Who the hell is Alexis? Some girl Max cheated on you with?"

Liz shook her head; slightly amused that Michael would get so riled on her behalf, "No. Nothing like that." Another tear feel down her cheek and she wiped it away, "Alexis is your niece, Michael."

~*~

TBC…