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 8

Michael had always prided himself on his ability to anticipate people's moves. He figured it was the years spent in paranoia as a human and his days of battle on Antar. He could read opponents and allies alike. He even felt he could read Liz, but he never saw the kiss coming. Sure they'd been close, many times over the past month, but somehow or another, they'd managed to remember their agreement and one or the other would pull back, but this time was different. She didn't pull back and he didn't stop her.

It happened so fast. One moment she was standing before him with infinite pride shining in her eyes and the next moment, Michael had made the mistake of blinking. Warm, soft lips he hadn't felt in over five years were now brushing over his own, and while he was surprised, apparently his lips were not. As if acting on instinct they accepted her light kiss, even returning it. He wondered if so many nights dreaming about those lips on his own had trained his body to ignore his fool-hearted defense mechanisms and give into his love for her.

The kiss was over far too soon, when Michael felt Liz literally take his breath away with her gasp against his mouth. She pulled away quickly, looking shocked by her own actions and brought a hand up to her mouth as though the kiss had burned. She wasn't wrong.

Liz had unwittingly lit a fuse inside Michael that weeks of denial had put fuel on. It was a spark, hot an immediate, reminding him of the sizable fire he carried for her. Always carried for her. Calling such fire as merely a torch would be far too understated a description for what he felt for Liz. A raging inferno that would make Mt. Vesuvius look like a high school science project would seem the more accurate analogy. Everything inside Michael burned for this woman and the effort it took to stave off the consumption of the flames had weakened him to this point. A point where his body, and if he was being honest, his heart would no longer be ignored.

Michael studied Liz's eyes and body, able to deny the sexually charged air that hung between them. He had to remind himself that only a few seconds had passed since her lips had left his, so she still wore a look of surprise, but the shock was fading and being replaced with something else. It wasn't regret or remorse, which he feared he might find. No, what he saw was anticipation and a pleading for him to decide their course. They, not just her, were crossing a line that had become so blurry over the weeks that neither of them were sure if a boundary even existed. She'd merely taken the first step, now it was his turn.

In Michael's mind Liz's kiss should have been simple, but there he was questioning everything that told him not to act on his feelings, finding the well built wall around his heart had been turned to dust by that simple kiss. Michael had never felt so indecisive in his life, but this was possibly the most important decision of his life.

Again, unwittingly, Liz helped Michael make his decision, helped his body and his heart overrule the nagging doubts he had about pursuing her, with the subtle passing of her tongue over her lips. The simple act of tasting him once again on her lips...it was too much for Michael to bear.

As slowly as those seconds of unnecessary indecision had passed, Michael's next actions were lightening quick. He took a step forward reaching out to Liz, gripping her waist in both hands and pulling her flush against his body. He held her eyes with his own for a split second, needing her to see that amber did indeed burn, and only for her, before capturing her mouth in a fevered kiss.

He was dimly aware that the coffee mug Liz had been holding had crashed to the floor, but couldn't bring himself to care as her arms immediately wrapped around his neck and a moan of relief escaped her throat vibrating against his lips. His senses were doubled in intensity with her finally where she belonged, but God, the taste of her was so powerful as her mouth opened to tangle her tongue intimately with his.

She tasted the same as she did all those years ago and he nearly whimpered at the privilege of being able to drink from her once again. That she wanted him too. That she wanted him. That she had opened herself so immediately to him as though kissing him were a base instinct and the games they'd been playing since her return into his life were too much.

How was it possible that someone with lips so soft and delicate could consume him so possessively? He'd expected her to be surprised by his ardor, but there he was, amazed , at how she hadn't skipped a beat. Like she'd been waiting just as long and tortured herself just as much as he had. He could suppress the moan that seemed to start at his stomach, when she pulled his bottom lip into her mouth, almost suckling on it. Hey, wasn't that his move? And who cared?

Necessity to breathe reared it's bothersome head, and Michael tore his mouth reluctantly away from Liz's, his lungs burning, but what a blissful pain. With Liz's arms still tightly wrapped around his neck, he became aware of the effort it took her just to reach him, her entire body stretched to its limits, the tips of her toes barely touching the floor. All that just to kiss his ugly mug.

The hands that gripped at Liz's waist, holding her to him, slid down over her hips, passing lightly over her backside and settled on her thighs before lifting her easily off the ground. Needing no further encouragement Liz wrapped her legs around Michael's waist, giving him control of their destination, her only request, made through increasingly deeper kisses on his neck, was that he find the destination as quickly as possible.

It wasn't his first choice, but with his knees threatening to buckle beneath him, from Liz's mouth making a meal out of his sensitive neck, Michael pressed them roughly against the refrigerator. The force, while not distraction for the ardent couple, had sent a few of their chintzy magnets and the photos of their niece scattering on the floor. Michael might have apologized to the precocious tot staring up at them from the floor, but Liz's hands tangling in his hair and her lips leaving his neck to claim his mouth sent any and all coherent thoughts out the window.

Michael vaguely remembered that he had somewhere he needed to be and that it was important, but nothing was more important to him, in that moment, than Liz pressed against his body, her mouth locked with his own and their lower bodies beginning to create an erotic friction blurred any other prior engagements from his mind. How could he think about the damn gallery when they were finally taking step, a hop, a God damn leap of faith with each other?

No words had been exchanged, nor did there need to be. Their low, lusty moans and passion labored breathing seemed to be the only vocalization they required. Even so Michael felt a nagging in the back of his mind that they were acting too hastily. She'd been so withholding from him in the past week. Words might break the delicious tension between them, but so much was going unsaid.

His body kicked into overdrive sending the thoughts away, reminding him that she was the reason he'd never known a woman's touch in their time apart, that his body rejected anyone but her and now she was in his arms, his hand was kneading her small breast, his thumb grazing over the already hardened nipple beneath the fabric of her jersey and she was arching into him, begging for more. Damn their unspoken agreement. Whatever was heavy on Liz's heart, she'd tell him eventually. He had to start truly believing that.

"Michael..." Liz panted, as his lips ran down her jaw line, deepening each kiss as he made his way down her neck.

He felt her once again arch into the hand caressing her breast and grew frustrated with the material. He took his hand away causing Liz to whimper in disappointment, but it was short lived as Michael pressed his lower body further against hers pinning her to the refrigerator with his hips, freeing his other hand. He brought his head up from her neck distracting her eyes with his as his hands gripped at the v-neck of her jersey.

"Michael..." she breathed again, "There's something... I need... to tell..."

Her words ended in a small, surprised shriek as he easily tore the jersey partly open. Sure, he could have lifted the confounding material over her head, but that meant putting her down and there was no way her was ready to let go of her. Michael watched Liz's eyes go from surprised to throughly aroused at his wild actions. There was no admonishment for ruining the material, something either of them could mend later, if anything she appeared grateful for his fervency.

Liz held perfectly still as Michael parted the material he'd torn, revealing her breasts to him for the first time, He'd only caught a faint glimpse, a teasing glance, at them the morning he'd stolen her address book and he was left only to wonder at their beauty. He glanced up into her eyes after taking them in and saw hesitancy, no, worry in her eyes. Had he been staring too long? No, that wasn't it, she was insecure, about what he couldn't imagine, but then again Liz never realized how truly beautiful she was. It was yet another thing Michael loved about Liz, her still girlish modesty.

While her eyes were still blackened with desire, Michael saw through her and the thought occurred to him that he was only the second man in her life to ever see her this vulnerable, naked. And while he cared not to think about that other man, Michael wanted to show her she had nothing to feel insecure about, but as always, words failed Michael, so his actions would have to speak for him.

Lowering his head he brushed his lips over Liz's tenderly, distracting her with his tongue wetting her lips, while his hand slid over the soft skin of her breast, cradling its sleight weight in his palm. She let out a sigh of relief that pressed her breast even further into Michael's hand, causing him to growl low in his throat. He passed his thumb lightly over her nipple, once again having his breath taken away by the gasp their skin to skin contact had caused her.

Liz unconsciously shifted her hips against Michael's sending a rush of heat through both of their bodies, Michael lowered his mouth from Liz's to taste the flesh beneath his hand, light, teasing her with his tongue avoiding her nipple, before closing his lips over it and suckling deeply. Liz tangled her hands in Michael's hair, gripping it tightly against the sensations he was delivering upon her sensitive skin. Tears pricked her eyes, not from sadness, but the sheer emotion that came from being so physically close to Michael.

The motion of Liz's hips against Michael's arousal was driving him on, drawing him further into her and only her. He heard her trying to speak, but her words were half mumbled and half moaned. She was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't hear. All he wanted was to hear his name on her lips in a lusty cry.

Liz tugged at his head, caught between needing him to know about her filing for divorce from Max, knowing Michael needed to hear it, and not want him to stop what was bringing her an insane amount of pleasure. When she felt Michael's hand beginning to push up the hem of her shirt and his fingers began to make its way to her heat, she knew she'd be well past rational to form words and needed to tell him right then.

"Michael..." Liz said insistently, pulling his face away from her breast to met hers. He tried to kiss her again, but she put a hand over his mouth, "Wait..." she panted, watching his brow furrow in confusion, "I need to...ah...God..."

Her word were cut off by Michael's fingers having made contact with her unencumbered folds. Well, that answered that question. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes at the feel of her heat on his hand, so soft, wet and...God... hot. If this was what she felt like against his hand, Jesus... He couldn't allow himself the next thought for it would definitely bring him a premature release.

Michael respected the Liz had something to say to him, but was puzzled as to why she found that moment to do so. And he did want to hear it, hoping it would be the thing that had weighed so heavily on her heart in the past week. But now? He watched her mouth work, to try and form words and began to push his fingers inside her soft walls in an effort to stave off whatever her confession maybe until after they were through with this little dance. Surely it could wait.

"Michael!" Liz gasped, and with all her strength she grasped at his hand pulling it away from her cleft abruptly.

She watched his brow furrow again, but was undeterred. He needed to know, so there was nothing left to hide between them. So he knew exactly how free she was to him. However, it would seem to backfire as their actions had left her with little breath to form words and they came out in a monosyllabic sentences that tore everything apart.

"Its...About...Max..." Liz breathed.

It was like a cold bucket of water had been thrown on Michael and Liz felt his whole body stiffen at the mention of his brother's name. Her husband. How could he have forgotten the very reason he'd kept himself from acting on these very impulses and let himself get this close to Liz? It was one thing if they were friends, but they'd leapt over that line and things could never be the same. Now his worst fears were coming true. The thread that still tied Liz to Max was cutting off any forward progress Michael could have made with her. Why did he have to be so fucking impulsive? It only ever brought him heartache.

Michael was certain that Liz's feelings for Max, or lack of them, had gone unchanged, but why would she bring him up when they were about to...? Did he have anything to do with her sadness over the past week? Is that why she'd closed herself off from this one aspect of her life? If there was one person Liz would guard him against, it was Max. Was she as free as he'd felt she was?

Michael's eyes flashed with discovery as he remembered Liz staring at the painting of Alexis only a week earlier, how she wept in his arms, but never gave him an explanation. Could she miss the little girl so much that she'd go back? Not necessarily to Max, but to the same vicinity, just to be in Lexi's life?

He knew he was being paranoid, but Max's name on Liz's lips, tended to throw Michael into that state and the fear that once again, he'd be relegated to second behind his brother. But Michael also knew that, on some level, Liz was in love with him, but was it enough to keep her with him?

He felt Liz's breath against his chest, slow, along with his own, the air still electrically charged, but this time from the confusion, pain, and burgeoning anger inside of Michael. All of it playing on his face, hiding nothing from Liz.

"Just tell me." Michael finally ground out, pulling his body away for a moment, to settle her on the floor, but pressed forward again, never giving her an inch of space, Whatever she had to tell him about Max, he didn't want to make it easy for her.

He watched her worry her bottom lip, swollen with his kisses as she seemed to be searching for the right words, "I know I should have told you this sooner, but...I don't know... I wanted to..." she stuttered, unnerved by his closeness and intensity.

"Wanted to wait until I was completely vulnerable?" Michael interrupted, unable to hide his pain in the sarcasm.

Liz looked up at him, confused. She knew he was annoyed, but the clear resonation of pain in his voice struck her at the heart, "What?"

"You're leaving aren't you?" He growled, letting his sorrow at the prospect lay bare for Liz to see, his voice softened, "You're going back to Max. We've been dancing around each other for the past month, Liz. Hell, we've been doing this dance since I left. Is it not what you expected? Wanted? Am I not enough for you?"

Liz's eyes widened as the source of Michael's pain became blatantly clear and raw before her eyes and she knew she'd made a mistake in not telling him sooner. She shook her head adamantly and damned her heavy tongue for she couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"What?" the panic heavy in her voice, "Michael I..."

"Hey, Mr. Van Gogh!" Sweet's voice rang out from the front door, immediately halting Liz's protests at Michael's assumptions, "What the hell are you still doing home?" he asked as he drew near the kitchen, "I saw your car parked outside and I know Miriam is expecting you at ten. Trust me Son, you do not want to face that lovely woman's wrath if you're la... Oh... uh...Oh..."

Sweet instantly forgot his playful ribbing when he entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of his two young friends pressed together against the refrigerator. Liz's jersey was ripped at the top and she quickly pulled it together to protect her modesty, leaving Sweet with little doubt as to what he'd walked in on.

Michael stepped away from Liz angrily, glancing at the clock, "Shit!" he hissed, "Miriam is gonna kill me!"

He took a step to walk away, when he felt Liz reach her free hand out to grab his, "Michael..." she whispered, begging him to stay so they could clear things up, but if he was right he didn't need to hear it. Max still hung between them and it couldn't come at a worse time.

Michael shook his head at Liz, taking his hand away from hers, "Not now, Liz." he said hoarsely, "I just can't right now."

He watched her nod as tears well in her eyes and fought to keep his own at bay. She was crying. Good. At least it wasn't easy for her, because it sure as hell was killing him.

Sweet had no idea what was going on between Michael and Liz, they seemed to be all over the board and his normally honed intuition about their feelings seemed to be jammed by the amount of conflicting emotions in the room. All he knew was that he didn't want Michael to leave Liz. Not with them being as broken as they both looked.

"Hell Michael, don't worry about Miriam." he said breaking the tension in an attempt at innocent cheer, "You tell her why you were late and she'll understand."

"She'd be about the only one." Michael said plaintively, not take his eyes away from Liz. Without another word Michael strode out of the kitchen slamming the front door on his way out.

Sweet raised a hand to his cover his heart, dumbfounded at what he'd seen and the pain it caused him to witness love falling apart before his eyes. What had gone so wrong? He looked to Liz, who was raising a shaky hand to wipe away the cascade of tears spilling from her eyes. He held his arms open to her and she immediately shuffled into his comforting embrace, letting out the sobs she could no longer hold inside.

"Shhh... Baby girl." Sweet said trying to soothe the distraught young woman in his arms, "Tell me what happened."

Liz sniffled, looking up at the weathered old soul and shaking her head, "God Sweet, I really screwed up. I hurt Michael. I should have told him about filing for divorce from Max weeks ago, but..."

"You wanted to handle it on your own. Your marriage. Your problem." Sweet stated.

Liz nodded wiping away a fresh tear, "But all I've done is put up this wall between us, not letting him in and now he's just confused. I just wanted to handle this so once I was really free...we could be together."

"And something broke this morning." Sweet observed with a slight chuckle.

Liz nodded again still clutching her torn jersey together, "I was so stupid. One second I'm handing him his keys and the next, I'm kissing him. It was just a small kiss, but then he kissed me back and..." she trailed off knowing that her state was pretty much telling the tale of what happened next.

Sweet furrowed his brow at her, "Darlin', I missed the part where Michael kissing you back is a bad thing."

"It wasn't." Liz said almost wistfully, unconsciously bring her fingers to her swollen lips in memory of Michael's burning kisses, but then shook her head of the thought as the pain in Michael's eyes came forward, "It was when I decided that would be the perfect moment to tell him about Max and the divorce."

"Okaaay." Sweet said still very confused, "Again, I'm missin' the part where you telling Michael about your impendin' divorce would have put the fury in his eyes that I saw."

Liz covered her face with her hands and they sat on the couch, "Well, when Michael kisses you, words sorta loose their order or get lost all together. And all I managed to get out was Max's name."

"Oh Lord..." Sweet shook his own head and looked the heavenward.

"Yeah. So Michael, not being the most secure when it comes to Max, jumped to the conclusion that I was leaving. Going back to Max., like this 'dance" as he called it, we've been doing this past month, hasn't been enough. Like he's not enough for me." Let out a small growl of frustration as fresh tears pricked her eyes, "God, when all I want to tell the stubborn jackass is that...I love him."

Sweet let out a small laugh at the situation, and the forlorn woman seated next to him, "You're right, Liz. You did screw up."

Liz arched an eyebrow at him, "You know for a guy who's nickname is 'Sweet', you sure didn't sugarcoat that, did you?"

Sweet shrugged his shoulders, "Can't have everythin' with a spoonful of molasses, Baby girl." he mused, the wrapped an arm around her shoulders. You shoulda told Michael about the divorce and about all the trouble that husband of yours has been givin' you. Now the poor boy is confused. He loves you so much, Liz, he can't hide it, but he won't let himself settle for only part of you."

"He shouldn't have to, Sweet." Liz agreed, "And he can have all of me. I just need to tell him." she worried her lips in thought, "If it's not too late. He was so...wounded."

"Well to be fair, I didn't help things along, did I?. I'm sure if my meddlin' old ass hadn't walked in it would have been said and the stubborn jackass might have actually heard the words for once."

"What if its too late?" Liz pondered, refusing to blame any of the situation she was in on Sweet. This was her problem to own.

Sweet tapped Liz's nose with his index finger, his kind eyes smiling at her, "I said you screwed up, Liz. Don't mean you can't salvage things with Michael, now did I?"

"You think so?" Liz asked a little less than hopeful. She knew how Michael could be when he was hurt. That stone wall he was so damn good at building would be fortified.

"Trust me, Liz." Sweet offered, "Michael hasn't given up on you yet. You'll see at that show of his tonight."

Liz gave Sweet a quizzical look and he shook his head, telling her she wasn't getting anymore out of him. With the shrug of her shoulders she retired to the bathroom to shower and dress for the few hours she had to run the bar.

~*~

Michael stormed into Miriam's gallery, the last thing on his mind being the lighting on his artwork, though it provided him with something to occupy his time other than the thoughts of Liz leaving, the tears in her eyes, and the jumbled mess that were his emotions.

He couldn't bring himself to care that he was late, it was only a lousy five minutes and to anyone else they would have been insignificant. But to Miriam Toussant, on show day, every single one of those missed minutes counted.

"Yes. I'm late and I don't want to talk about it. It's five minutes, get over it." Michael grumbled at the older redhead as he saw her scowl on her face.

"Well good God damn mornin' to you, Michael." Miriam said a little shocked by Michael's apparent grumpiness, sensing this was beyond oversleeping. There was an edge in his voice.

Michael softened a bit when he realized how rude he'd been to her. She'd been working just as hard as he was to make sure the show went off with a hitch and he was taking out his pain on her, "Sorry, Miriam." he said, then watched her open her mouth to ask him what was wrong, "But I still don't want to talk about it."

"Fine." Miriam surrendered raising her hands in the air, "But if this grouchiness of yours is an attempt at playing the brooding and moody artist stereotype...Knock it off."

"It's not an act, Mir." Michael said trying to lighten the mood, not only to get her off his case, but to make himself feel a little better, "I'm always brooding and moody, you're just too busy telling me how talented I am to notice."

Miriam rolled her eyes at the smart aleck young man, "Not so talented that I won't smack that perfectly combed noggin of yours, Wiseass."

Michael gave her a crooked half-hearted smile, "I really am sorry I'm late." he sighed cryptically "You have no idea how sorry."

While Michael stood back studying the placement of his paintings in the large gallery, Miriam took the opportunity to study him. The furrowed brow and the clenched fist the way he was trying to pretend to be thinking about his art when it was so clear to her that his art could have been lying on the floor in a puddle and he wouldn't have paid any mind. Then Miriam's eye caught something on Michael that she found wholly amusing and the reason for his tardiness had become all too clear.

"Oh Michael..." she tutted shaking her head at him, "Baby, you've never been on time for anything as long as I've known you." She shook her head and pointed up at him, "But, Casanova, I'd have let you be hours late if this had anything to do with it."

Michael squinted down at the woman in confusion, staring at her pointed finger. He looked down at his clothes and found them in order despite his hasty retreat from home and for once they actually matched, "What are you talking about?"

Miriam giggled at the befuddled young artist, "I mean, dear boy, unless you've been spending some quality time with a Hoover, I'm gonna assume that you and Liz finally came to your senses."

Michael's eyes widened slightly and he caught his reflection in the mirrored wall, behind the receptionist's desk. Just beneath his long hair, resting quite obviously on his neck, was a dark purple bruise that matched the shape of Liz's mouth exactly. He raised his hand up to the mark, closing his eyes at the memory only a few minutes old, of how those lips had felt on his neck.

"Bout damn time if you ask me...or Sweet... or just about anyone else with in five feet of the two of you." Miriam mused. "Cuz that's the distance you have to keep the amount of electricity you two have."

Michael's head and heart were still reeling from the mornings events. How could Liz kiss him like that, let him touch her... if she was going to leave? It didn't make any God damn sense. But it wasn't something he wanted to explore...with anyone, despite his friendship with Miriam. At least not today.

"You so sure it was Liz?" Michael joked, hoping Miriam might drop the subject if he even hinted at the prospect of another woman.

Miriam blew out an unamused puff of air at the notion, "Please Michael. If I thought it was anyone other than Liz, I'd knock you over the head with one of your paintings."

"Feeling a bit violent this morning, aren't we?" Michael teased, it being the second time Miriam had threatened him with physical violence since he walked in the door.

"Don't change the subject." Miriam mildly scolded, trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smirk "I see through you Michael Joyce. When it comes to you, there's no there woman, but Liz."

Michael looked away from Miriam, not wanting her to give her the satisfaction of seeing how right she was. Miriam wasn't content to let him shut her out, but she didn't want to make him any angrier or raw than he already seemed to be. Her face grew serious and she placed a gentle hand on Michael's shoulder.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it , Sugar?" she asked, almost motherly.

Michael shook his head, "It's between Liz and I, Mir. You've been great to me, but..."

Miriam held up her hands, "I got it, Michael. You're sticking with the whole brooding and moody artist thing... I know when to keep my nose out of your business."

"Can I get that in writing?" Michael teased with a smirk.

Miriam narrowed her eyes at Michael, "You know, you're paintings would triple in value if you died. Don't tempt me."

Michael mock shivered, "I, uh, think I'm gonna just go adjust the lighting on that one." He pointed aimlessly to no painting in particular, realizing he was pushing his luck with Miriam.

"You do that , Boy." Miriam returned in feigned menace, "Run."

When Michael was half way across the room Miriam called out to him, "Is Liz coming tonight?"

Michael turned on his heel and shrugged his shoulders. An answer that seemed so clear only twenty minutes earlier, was now so uncertain. "Don't know." he answered.

The older woman watched as Michael, picked out a painting and needlessly distracted himself with already perfect lighting.

"Oh Michael, " she whispered to herself, "If Liz doesn't know how you feel about her yet, she sure as hell will if she comes tonight. What are you gonna do then, Sug?"

~*~

TBC…