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.

Chapter 6

Michael and Liz sat at the kitchen island, their faces far too close for two people who claimed they were "just friends." They were about to take a giant leap off that cliff into something they both so desperately wanted, but weren't entirely sure they were ready for.

Salvation, and disappointment, came in the form of a gentle knocking at the front door. Michael's eyes still held Liz's their faces stopped, but not parting. After a more insistent knock, Michael smiled, "Sweet…" he whispered.

"What?" Liz asked dimly aware of the knocking, still entranced by Michael's heated gaze and inviting lips. Sweet, yeah, she remembered Michael's lips tasting surprisingly sweet…

Abruptly Michael pulled back and got off of his barstool, removing himself from the temptation Liz's lips so effectively provided, and leaving her utterly confused, "Michael?"

"Uh…Another morning routine." He explained, running an absent hand through his hair, "Sweet comes by around nine to harass me."

"Oh… oh right." Liz nodded her head; sure her cheeks had discovered an entirely new shade of red. She let out a shuddering breath as Michael walked out of the kitchen and to the door. "Not even twenty-four hours, Jeffries and you're all ready to jump his bones… will power girl." She muttered with a slight groan.

Since when do you knock, Old Man?" Michael asked Sweet as he opened the door.

Sweet smiled brightly as he stepped inside, "Since you got someone, doing a fair impression of a beautiful young lady, to stay the night, Son." His eyes raked over Michael's form and the state of his undress, no shirt and a pair of old sweats, "Not interrupting anything am I? I'm more than willing to forego our morning ritual, if you were getting a little fancy."

"Fancy?" Michael chuckled, holding up his hand, "Liz and I are…uh… friends." He insisted weakly.

Sweet shook his head as Michael closed the door, "You've been out of the game far too long, Michael. A perfectly stunning young woman like Liz, huggin' you like she was last night…and you have no idea what to do with her?"

The two men stepped into the kitchen where Liz greeted them with a smile, "Cryin' shame, Michael." Sweet teased, before turning his attention to the exquisite brunette in front of him, "Good morning fair lady. Boss man here been humane to you at this hour?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Liz answered, winking at Michael. Humane? Hell, she'd been about to let him be inhumane all over her body.

Michael pulled down a coffee mug for Sweet, handing the wise cracking old man his morning cup of joe. "Great." He said in mock disdain, "Now I'm gonna have two of you busting my chops."

"Someone has to keep you on Earth." Liz quipped, earning a warning, but hardly threatening, glance from Michael. She quickly looked back over at Sweet and the paper bag clutched in his weathered hands, "Come bearing gifts, Sweet?" she asked.

"Breakfast." He answered shaking the bag, "Will that do?"

He pulled out a still warm croissant; fresh from the bakery a few doors down, and waved it at Liz. Her eyes widened immediately and her stomach grumbled, reminding her it had been awhile since she'd eaten. She hoped down from the barstool and snatched the bag out of Sweet's hands.

"I think I've just found my second husband." Liz mused as she opened the bag and smelled the heavenly pastry.

Sweet chuckled, "Well that would make you Number Five, Liz. Maybe that's my lucky number."

Michael rolled his eyes at Sweet's shameless flirting, "Uh, sorry, Pop, but she still has to divorce the first one."

Michael's own errant observation caused both he and Liz to freeze, and a sudden understanding passed between them. Michael hadn't meant any malice by it, but it was the truth. And in that truth they'd both found the reason they weren't ready to admit their feelings, give in to their desires, for one another. Liz had to cut that final thread with Max before either of them could allow anything to happen. Liz was freer, not free.

"D-Did everything get closed up okay last night?" Michael asked Sweet quickly, wanting to rid the room of the awkward silence that had settled in.

"No problems." Sweet said, pretending he hadn't noticed yet another secretive glance pass between the two young people in front of him, "But I did fax an order for some more Jack Daniels. That should be here in about an hour."

Michael nodded, "I'll take care of it. I need to show Liz around the bar anyway since she's the new waitress."

Sweet let out an exaggerated sigh of relief; " Finally we'll have some decent scenery 'round the place. No offense, Son, but you don't exactly make men's hearts sing when they look at ya. Now Liz here…I definitely see an increase in business with her waiting tables."

Michael furrowed his brow and folded his arms over his chest, "I take it back Liz, you can stay behind the bar…I'll wait tables…

Liz laughed at Michael's protective nature shining through, "I do know my way around bars, Michael…and it's more rowdy patrons. How many did you and I work in before you left?"

"A few." Michael grumbled, "And I do recall having to acquaint more than few 'rowdy patrons' with my fist on your behalf, Liz."

"And it was always appreciated." Liz said gripping his chin, squeezing his cheeks together comically. "Just promise me I won't have to wear a uniform that was anything like the one I wore at that dive in Boulder…"

"Cheeky's?" Michael laughed, raising an amused eyebrow, "I always had a great view."

"I take it they left little to the imagination?" Sweet inquired.

"To say the least." Liz rolled her eyes, "Think, normal sized women squeezed into Barbie sized clothes and then shrink it in the dryer."

Michael tapped his chin with his finger in thought, "Remind me to order uniforms, Sweet…New look for the bar."

Liz arched an eyebrow at Michael, "Fine, but you have to wear it too, Boss Man."

"Oh no, Son." Sweet said holding his hands up in protest, "I could go the rest of my life without that burned into my addled brain. Liz, baby, you wear what you want. No dress code at the bar."

"Not even 'No shirt. No shoes. No problem?'" Liz kidded.

"Yeah, like I'm gonna complain if you walk around without a shirt." Michael teased back, and then looked down at himself; "In fact I'm following that particular dress code at the moment. Come on Liz. Apartment policy, effective immediately."

"You wish." Liz dismissed him with a wave, unable to hide the blush on her cheeks. She turned to Sweet for a distraction, "Now how is it that you have four ex-wives, Sweet?"

The elderly Lothario shook his head and placed his hand over his heart, "Alas Liz, I am a man with a great capacity for love in my heart. Every single one of my exes was beautiful, unique and I loved them completely. Not to mention all the near Mrs."

"What Sweet's not telling you, "Michael remarked dryly, "Is that he didn't bother to stop loving Number One before falling for Number Two…Then Number Three… and…"

"Can't help the way the good Lord made me, Michael." Sweet sighed.

Liz giggled, "So is there a Number Five on the horizon?"

"Oh I'm sure out there somewhere is the greatest love of my life. Maybe that's why my other marriages never worked. My true love still hasn't found me."

Michael watched Liz's face fall and she took a deep breath, "Trust me, Sweet. While it's a nice notion, I'm not sure there is such a thing as true love."

"Ah now…" Sweet tutted her, "You sure it doesn't exist? Or is that maybe you've yet to feel it or recognize it?"

Michael hung his head, knowing what Liz's answer would be. She had known true love and it failed her. Max.

Liz thought for a moment, looking over at Michael and his undeniably defeated stance, "You know something Sweet?" she grinned, "You just might be right."

Michael's head shot up in astonishment. That certainly hadn't been the answer he'd been expecting from her. Liz still had a bit of the romantic inside her. Perhaps Max hadn't completely jaded her. Or maybe he'd jaded her just enough to be realistic. To know that love should exist without massive amounts of pain. Whatever it was she believed now, Michael saw her hope, and in that found he still had some hope of his own.

"So tell me Sweet," Liz said, quickly changing the subject, "How did you and Michael meet?"

Michael's eyes widened, "Uh…you don't really want to know that do you?" he said nervously.

Sweet chuckled, "Oh come on, Michael. It's not that embarrassing."

"Now I definitely want to know." Liz said, excitedly.

Michael was about to protest again when Liz stuffed a croissant in his mouth. He growled through the pastry, "Fine." He said chewing, "Just keep in mind that I did a lot of stupid things for money."

Liz mind went to places forbidden and she burst out laughing, "Oh Sweet, please tell me you met Michael at a male stripper review."

Michael coughed, choking on his croissant at Liz's notion, "In you dreams, Jeffries. I don't dance. Period. Although, feel free to add that to your fantasy file."

"No, Liz. I met Michael at a bar I used to work at on Bourbon Street." Sweet provided, before Michael got himself in any more trouble. "Hard not to notice a kid in a jazz bar, sporting a Metallica T-shirt and a sketchpad. Not to mention what he was drawing…" He paused for a moment studying Liz, "Well I'll be damned…"

Michael cleared his throat at Sweet and shook his head subtly. Sweet nodded and continued with his story.

"Things were pretty boring for yours truly. Wife number Four had walked out on my foolish hide a few moths earlier and I found comfort in the woes of my patrons. Not that I enjoyed them being down mind you. It just reminded me that there were people worse off than I was. You get a lot of perspective when you're behind the bar instead staring at the bottom of the glass.

"Anyway, this bar I worked at had a gimmick. A contest, if you will. One thing you have to know about New Orleans, Liz, is that we love our food Satan hot and leaving us in pain. So this contest was five hundred dollars to anyone who could eat a pepper. Not just any peeper, but a Scotch Bonnet. You familiar with those?"

Liz nodded, "I think it's used in Jamaican cooking. But isn't that something like the hottest pepper in the world?"

"If not, "Sweet confirmed, "It should be. You can't pick one up without wearing rubber gloves. So hot we had the paramedics take away some of the weaker fools. At any rate we had a crowd of dumbass and drunken college boys there one night, throwing around their testosterone trying to prove who was the alpha male by taking on the Scotch Bonnet challenge, all failing miserably.

"After about the fifth college boy ran out of the room sputtering and crying 'bout the devil trying to burn him from the inside out with the pepper, I notice Michael shaking his head at them from his corner table. You know how quiet Michael can be, but when you to take notice you don't forget."

"He does make an impression." Liz agreed. Michael blew out a puff of air, trying not to seem amused.

"Well, I wasn't the only one who noticed Michael." Sweet continued, "Those college boys saw him shaking his head and didn't take kindly to that. No M'am, not at all."

Liz groaned, "You didn't get in a fight did you? Because you know you have this uncanny ability to mock…" she asked Michael.

"Shhh." Michael said putting a finger to her lips, "Let Pop finish the story. Besides it can't be helped if some people just beg to be mocked. A lot."

"So," Sweet pressed on, although enjoying the none-too-subtle flirting happening between Michael and Liz, "These boys called Michael over and challenged him…to eat the pepper. But just to make it more interesting, not only would he get the cash prize from the bar, but each of those boys put up a hundred dollars of their own beer money."

Liz ran a had over her face, looking between her fingers at Michael, "You didn't…"

Michael smirked, "Oh, but I did, Liz. I needed the money and I had a talent that needed to be exploited." Liz widened her eyes a Michael and he laughed, "Don't worry I told Sweet about my being born with uh… weird taste buds."

Liz relaxed a bit and then smirked, "You know genetics is not talent, Michael."

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "Got me a fifteen hundred bucks and a job." He returned, quite satisfied wit the end result.

"That's true enough, Sweet laughed, wiping his eyes, "You should have seen the looks on those college boy's faces when Michael bit into one Scotch Bonnet, didn't flinch and then proceeded to eat another one. Oh, the Lord was smiling down on Michael that day. Yes M'am.

"Now those boys were drunk, but honorable and they paid Michael every red cent. Afterwards, Michael and I got to talkin', all night if I recall. We'd just lost a bartender, so we needed a new one. I needed someone somewhat interesting…"

"Michael does qualify as interesting." Liz quipped, "Somewhat."

Before Michael could retaliate, Sweet continued with his story, "So I gave him the job. I asked him about his art and while he was reluctant at first…well I can charm anyone, though Michael was definitely more difficult."

"Don't even think about it, Liz." Michael warned as he saw her smirk and open her mouth to comment.

Sweet laughed at Liz's pout and pressed on, "Michael finally showed me his sketchbook and I was immediately struck. The boy had the most stunning portraits I'd ever seen. The emotion. The little details…" He looked at Liz then up at Michael winking, "Just stunning. Then he showed me some of the newer ones he's been working on. They were different places around New Orleans. They were rough, but they had potential. Just needed the right eye. He needed to really see the beauty of the city and capture it, like he did in his sketches of y…"

Sweet's last word was cut off quickly when Michael coughed purposely. The old man realized what he'd almost said and gave Michael an apologetic look, "Well, like in his portraits." He covered, " So the next day I took Michael out and showed him my lady, New Orleans."

"Never seen her the same way since." Michael told Liz.

"Any chance I could get that tour?" Liz asked Sweet.

"Exactly what I had in mind, lady fair. Go get dressed and I'll introduce you to Her."

Liz's eyes lit up with excitement and she looked to Michael, making sure he didn't need her at the bar immediately, "Yeah. Go on" he told her, like he could have said no if he wanted to, "I just need you back here by five."

Liz's excitement faded a bit, "Oh. You aren't coming with us?"

Michael shook his head, "Got a bar to run. You remember what it was like running your own business." He said with a wink. Liz grew up in her parent's café. She knew how to run a business better than anyone. "I'll see ya when you get back. I swear you'll be a different person."

"Is that what it did for you?" Liz asked, having no doubt that Michael's love affair with New Orleans and the way Sweet had taught him to see Her had turned Michael into the man he was today.

"Among other things." He told her holding Liz's eyes with his own, leaving little doubt that she, even in her absence from his life, had been a part of it too.

They were reminded of Sweet's presence in the room when he cleared his throat and encouraged Liz to get ready, "Well… go on girl. Scoot! New Orleans waits for no man…. and especially no woman. She's a beauty, but She gets jealous."

Liz nodded and disappeared into her bedroom. Sweet turned to Michael, finding his young friend's eyes on Liz's door, "I can't believe I didn't recognize her last night." Sweet admonished himself. The sketches. I mean you hardly forget a face like that."

"Yeah." Michael said in a slightly defeated sigh, "You hardly do." He snapped out of his wistful tone and scratched at his eyebrow, "Just. Uh, do me a favor and don't tell her about those sketches you saw when we met. I'm, not sure I'm ready for her to…"

Sweet held up his hand and nodded, "I understand, Michael." His voice was gentle and fatherly; "I'm beginning to understand a lot of things with Liz in the picture."

~*~

Sweet and Liz spent the whole day together and she easily began to see New Orleans through the old man's eyes. Her moods, Her unending beauty, and Her overwhelming charm.

"How can you not fall in love with Her after seeing Her through your eyes?" Liz thanked him as they sat at a sidewalk café sipping afternoon tea.

Sweet chuckled at her excitement, thinking the same thing about Liz through Michael's eyes, through those sketches. Her moods, her unending beauty, and her overwhelming charm. Although it had been four years since he'd seen those pictures Michael drew, Sweet now marveled at how he'd captured all of Liz. But there was one thing the live model lacked now, that every one of those sketches held in some way.

"Sadness…" Sweet whispered.

"Pardon?" Liz asked, not having heard his utterance.

"Oh sorry Liz," Sweet began to explain, "But being an old barman I don't just notice things about my city, but Her people too."

"And you notice something about me?" she asked intrigued, "Should I be worried?"

Sweet chuckled "Don't worry. I'm honest, but I'm kind."

Liz nodded, "I think that's why Michael likes you so much, your honesty. Michael never liked…"

"To beat around the bush?" Sweet finished, "Yeah, I kinda figured that the minute I met him."

"So, what is it you 'notice' about me?" Liz asked, a little less fearful of what Sweet might have observed about her. He was such a charming and disarming man; it was easy to let your guard down around him.

Sweet studied Liz for a moment, although he really didn't need to. The whole day spent with her had given him quite a glimpse into this remarkable young woman and namely, why it was Michael was so very much in love with her. "I get the sense that you used to be a lot sadder than you are now."

Liz worried her lip a bit, but nodded, "Yeah."

"And I sense that Michael has played a big part in your return to happiness… as well as the lingering sadness. How am I doin'?" sweet observed.

"Too well." Liz said with a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry Darlin'." Sweet apologized regretting any discomfort he'd brought to her with his observations, "Reading people is a gift. Not exactly one I can turn off."

Liz chuckled, "Believe me Sweet, I know a little something about that."

Sweet was admittedly confused by her last comment, but shrugged it off, "Well, I won't push. You're part of Michael's past…present and well… He and I came to an agreement when we met, that I wouldn't push him about his past no matter how curious I am. After all, part of what shapes a man in what he left behind, right?"

"That's an understatement." Liz mused. "What has Michael told you?" She was curious as to what he'd shared with his kind old man, given Michael's tendency to trust no one.

"Not much really. Just that he left behind some people he cared about. Family. But that he had to go. It hurt him too much to stay." Sweet provided, "That was enough for me. I could see that hurt in his eyes. Though I must say that hurt diminished substantially when you showed up."

Liz blushed involuntarily, and then shook her head in amazement. "What's wrong, Liz?" he asked.

"Oh it nothing." She tried to brush it off, but then decided against it, "It's just that you got Michael to admit to even half of what he was feeling. You have to understand what an incredible feat that is for anyone." Liz explained, "He's not exactly one to trust people in general, let alone older men."

Sweet nodded, "I sensed that about Michael. What he doesn't know is how much he…"

"Wears his every emotion in his eyes? Body?" Liz finished, "Yeah. Only it took me a while to figure that out. I was so damn preoccupied with… my life."

"You don't have to answer me, Darlin', but I take it Michael had a less than loving childhood." Sweet said.

Liz sighed, "Michael, didn't have a childhood, Sweet. I can't tell you much, except that Michael lived with a man who saw fit to take out his problems on Michael's face, body…" she trailed off, "It was bad. And nobody really knew or did anything about it until he was in high school."

"Sweet shook his head, "I figured as much and that's a shame, but it makes me appreciate his trust in me a lot more. Thank you, Liz." He closed his eyes trying not to think about what a younger bruised Michael might have looked like. Pained his heart too much to see it. "I guess Michael is the closest thing to a son I've ever had."

Liz's eyes widened a bit, "All those ex-wives and you don't have any children?

Sweet smiled, "The good Lord gave me a great many gifts, Liz, but he did not give me seeds to sow."

"Oh…" Liz said, "I … uh… I'm sorry."

Sweet patted her hand in reassurance, "Don't be sorry. I figure He was just waitin' to send Michael my way."

Liz's face brightened with her smile, "I'm so glad He did."

"Sent you here too, He did." Sweet pointed out, "And Michael is more alive than I have ever seen him."

Liz blushed again, " Well, I don't know…" Liz protested.

"I do." Sweet told her matter-of-factly. "I see it in you too, but you're both afraid to let go of that last little bit of the past. Both been burned. In your case, that husband of yours."

Liz marveled at Sweet's uncanny ability to get right to the source of the problem on very little information. It was no wonder Michael could open up to this man.

"I guess you're right." Liz conceded, "But it is a little more complicated than that. My ex…husband, is for all intents and purposes Michael's brother."

"I know." Sweet nodded, "The same brother who has to everything his way and everyone under his control like some sort of…monarch. Especially you."

Liz couldn't deny it, "Yeah. That's Max alright."

"But you left him Liz…To be with Michael." Sweet pointed out.

"I… not just for that…I mean…" Liz stammered.

Sweet squeezed Liz's delicate hand in his old weathered one, "I know you left for reasons other that Michael and I know he's proud of you for those reasons alone, but a big part of you was looking for Michael, even if you won't admit it. And I can tell you he's glad to have you back in his life. Question becomes: How big a part do you want in his life?"

"Huge." Liz admitted effortlessly.

Sweet chuckled at her honesty and Liz was entranced by the way Sweet's laughter seemed to touch even his dark eyes, "Well, we both know Michael pretty well. He's an all or nothing kinda fella. Which means you got ta let go of the past if you want to be part of his future."

"I know." Liz said a bit mournfully, "And by staying tied to Max I'm just letting him keep some control over me and that crutch will only last so long."

"Exactly, Darlin'. So now you know what you have do?" he asked her.

Liz nodded, putting on her best Louisiana drawl, "I need to buy me a big ol' pair o' scissors."

~*~

Michael rose at his usual time the next morning and readied the coffee. He took his place out on the balcony watching the business owners open their shops up. Last night when Liz got back from her tour of the city with Sweet, she was definitely changed. She seemed lighter and if a weight had been lifted off her. He was fairly certain it had little do with New Orleans Herself and everything to do with his grinning bartender.

Sweet was mum about their discussion no matter how much Michael pressed. He just watched as Liz practically skipped from table to table, taking orders and delivering drinks.

She'd regaled him with all the sites sweet had taken her to see, the rich history of the city. It was the same look she got n her face when she'd find a class to take at the university in whatever new state they were in all those years ago. Liz was hopelessly in love with The Big Easy.

Michael thumbed through his old sketchbook with her face on every page and something Sweet had said to him last night, echoed through his mind. Liz was charming a table of Shriners, when she looked up at Michael and her smile widened.

"That smile alone belongs on a canvas." Sweet had told him, almost an air of mischief in his age graveled voice.

"Yeah." Michael whispered on the balcony, closing the sketchbook, "It sure as hell does."

He rose off the lawn chair and strode into the studio. He found a blank canvas and began pulling paints out, mixing them to find just the right golden hue to his subject's skin. His muse had returned, in more ways than one.

~*~

Liz was awakened by the sounds of Billie Holiday and paint tubes hitting the hardwood floor in Michael's studio. She smiled and stretched out; glad she wasn't the only one to have been inspired the previous day. Maybe her talk with him about all the sites Sweet had shown her had reawakened Michael's muse for his adopted city.

Whatever the reason Liz was grateful he was distracted. She rose out of bed throwing on her hockey jersey and fished out her address book, smiling as she remembered Michael's boyish look of guilt the previous morning having been caught with it. She quietly padded into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

Finding the number in her little red book she dialed the numbers, determined but still feeling the nervousness that came with what she was about to do. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

"This Jesse Ramirez. How can I help you?" the voice said.

"Jesse? It's Liz. And I think you know how you can help me."

~*~

TBC…