Title: Finding Ulysses
Author: Peachykin
Rating: ADULT Themes
Pairing: Mi/L
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. Unfortunately Katims did and now we're all just cleaning up his mess.
Epilogue
Pain scored Michael's upper thighs, nails digging in with the force of another...Jesus, when would they stop...contraction.
"I'm going to castrate you when this is over, Michael!" Liz grunted.
Castration...he would welcome castration...he was never touching Liz again. He brushed away piece of hair sticking to her face...well never touching her sexually again.
"Michael..Son.. Breathe..." Sweet's voice reached into his head.
Michael let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and gazed up at his father, "Shouldn't you be telling her that?" he nodded down at a grimacing Liz.
"You're starting to worry Liz, and she needs to pay attention right now" Sweet instructed.
"Trust me. This kid has my full attention...Jesus...!" Liz ground out as another contraction came on top of the other.
Christ. The kid. He was really coming. He was really having the baby...or Liz was. And he was just sitting there like a dumbass. Didn't the books say "be supportive". Fuck. Why didn't he listen to Kyle about when Isabel went through this? The midget finally had some knowledge he could actually use and Michael had ignored it like so much quoted Buddha.
Michael felt Miriam, pry one of Liz's hands off of Michael's leg, letting the petite little mother transfer the death grip to her, "Might help if Michael were in a little less pain."
"Michael in pain?!" Liz growled, "I'm the one being ripped apart here!"
Isabel mopped Liz's brow with a wet towel, "You know what wussies men are, Liz. Just focus."
Michael might have been tempted to defend his sex against Isabel's barb, but she nailed it. Liz was in an agony undescribable and he wasn't doing a thing to help. And the sharp nails digging into his flesh weren't helping things.
Isabel knew what was going on, she knew how to help. He was just a fucking armchair next to the pro...armchair, pro...why the hell was he even in the room? Isabel was coaching. Birthing Nazi to the extreme. Miriam, Miriam was calming...not that it was working...he was just making it worse, God he always made it worse...how could he do this to Liz? Sweet was saying something about breathing...
Breathe. How could he breathe, he was useless, a distraction. Hell, even Sweet had a purpose, bringing the baby into the world, the life Michael had help make. His son. Oh God, he was having a son, a little boy coming into the world . A Doc Marten wearing, thumbing his nose at authority, Metallica metalhead son. What had he done to deserve such happiness?
"Michael!!!!!!!!" Liz screamed, her nails once again digging into his leg with another fierce contraction, Sweet gently encouraging her to push.
And he had the gall to wonder why Liz was in so much pain? Michael had been a pain in the ass since the day he hatched. Why should his son be any different? Why couldn't he be different for her? Didn't he know how tiny his mother was? That maybe she wasn't meant to take on pain like this?
"Okay, I've got a head here...Michael..." Sweet said softly, tempering the chaos of the room with his gentle presence, " Michael..."
"Huh?" Michael asked, his breathing nearly as heavy as Liz's, "What...Head?"
"Your son is crowning, Michael." Sweet explained, his voice firm, "I need you to help Liz bear down."
Eureka! That was his job. Help Liz bear down. How the hell does one "bear down"? He'd always heard it as a reference...or was that buckle down? He could never remember. And help? There was something he could actually help with? Maybe he wasn't totally useless in this, if Liz needed his strength he could give her his strength, if she needed his love...well she already had that but...
"Michael, I meant you need to help her now." Sweet insisted.
Now? As in right this second? Can't you give a guy more of a warning than that? Shit, maybe he wasn't ready for this. Twenty years. Yeah that'd be enough, twenty years would be plenty for a warning. Not now.
"Fuck this hurts!" Liz yelled through her teeth.
Michael looked down and indeed saw a head. Christ that was messy. Hadn't Kyle warned him never to look? Said he'd never look at Liz the same way again. Jesus, would she ever shrink back to normal down th...
Michael felt Liz's nails and crushing grip leave his thigh and reach back, gripping his hair to gain more leverage. He bit back his own expletive in small prayer that she might not yank his hair out completely. She was pissed enough as it was without having him add to it.
"We are never having sex again!" she screamed. "Isabel, get Lexi in here! Let her see why boys are bad! Very! Bad!"
"Kinda difficult if I'm castrated." he mumbled, earning a firm twist of Liz's hand in his hair.
Michael thought it was his ill timed comment that had earned him the pain, but as she yanked her once again looked down, seeing his son's head was now completely out. She slumped against his chest for a moment when Sweet told her to take a second to relax.
Holy shit. That was his son's head. Liz was so tired and Michael knew, or at least basic anatomy told him that the shoulders were next. Head bone's connected to the neck bone... the neck bone's connected to the...He glanced down at his own shoulders as Liz, mercifully, dropped her hand from his hair. Shoulders were wider than heads, and in his case... this was far from over.
"Liz...Honey..." Sweet told her softly, so far having the grace not to incur her sizable wrath, " I know you're tired, but if you can give me one more good push I think we can get our little prince out here. What do you say?"
"I love you, Sweet... But kindly fuck off..." Liz trailed off falling back onto Michael's shoulder in utter exhaustion.
"Sorry." Michael told his father, "Guess I'm rubbing off on her."
"Oh no Michael." Liz shook her head, "You will do no more rubbing on me. Ever."
"Liz... " Isabel patted her spent friend's brow with a damp cloth, "Just a little more and its all over."
Liz shook her head again, "No. You all go home. Come back tomorrow. We'll pick up where we left off."
"Come on Sugar." Miriam encouraged, "Just one more and we'll stop buggin' ya."
"No." Liz stated firmly, and then a small whimper escaped her lips as a tear rolled down her cheek., "Too tired... I-I can't..."
Michael looked down at Sweet, and for the first time saw worry on his father's face. Time was not something they had a lot of and Liz couldn't just stop this ride half way through. He had to do something. Motivate her as only he could.
"Scared Parker?" he asked in a challenging tone. How's that for some fucking motivation?
He felt his once limp girlfriend, stiffen in his arms. His challenge tant amount to waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. He knew he might pay later, but right now it was up to her to get their son out and if it took attacking her ego, well so be it.
"Fine!" Liz growled rising back up and gripping onto the hand he'd held out for her pushing with ever last ounce of strength she had left, "How many God damn times do I have to tell you my name isn't ...Parker?!"
She let out a great scream as a tiny shoulder made its way out and Sweet pulled the baby the rest of the way out. With sparkling eyes and a great smile, the old man held the squirming and angry child up briefly to show his stunned parents.
Holy. Fuck. There he was. Their son. A bit on the slimy side, but there. Once a part of Liz, now separated. Independent. Breathing?
Michael watched Isabel take the baby from Sweet wrapping him in a towel and suctioning out the baby's mouth. Liz panted heavily, exhausted from her efforts but seemed as wide eyed as Michael waiting, every second more unbearable than the last, to see their son take his first breath or ...
"Waaaaaahhhhhh!" Let out his first cry his little mouth wide open and his lips trembling with his efforts.
Liz let out a great sob of relief and Michael closed his eyes as their son filled the room with his cries. Jesus this kid had a set of lungs. Definitely metalhead material, possibly lead singer. They got all the chicks right? No. Cant think that far ahead when right now, only a few seconds old, all of New Orleans could hear their newest member announcing his presence. "Here I am. Deal with me."
"He's okay?" Michael rasped, unable to find his own voice.
Isabel looked back at her brother and Liz, tears shining in her eyes and a brilliant smile on her face, "He's perfect, Michael"
Perfect. His son was perfect. Was that possible? From Liz sure, but from him? Michael kissed Liz's temple before leaning his forehead against her shoulder in emotional exhaustion.
"Perfect." Michael repeated in a whisper.
He felt Liz bring a hand up into his hair again and he lifted his face to meet hers, "You okay?" he asked.
Liz nodded wearily, "Good save back there." she smiled.
Michael finally allowed himself a smirk, "Well, when in doubt, piss you off. Not safe, but effective."
"Ah and you are very good at that." Liz mused.
Sweet cleared his throat interrupting the new parents. He waved a pair of scissors in front of Michael, "Wanna cut the cord, Dad?"
"Huh?" Michael asked still in a slight daze. Dad? Right that was him now. Dad. "Oh yeah right...they come with cords..."
Was Sweet serious? He wanted him to cut his son's last tie to the safety of his mother? Would it hurt? Hadn't there been enough pain that day?
"I...Uh... I don't trust myself..." Michael stammered.
"Use your powers." Isabel encouraged him, his son still wrapped in a towel in her arms, waiting to be cleaned.
"My powers?" Michael gaped, "Like those are reliable at the moment."
Liz shook her head, "No, Michael. Isabel is right. It's more sanitary. Please..."
Michael looked up at Isabel with worried eyes, "Can't you..?"
"I could, but its traditional that the father do it." she answered, quirking an eyebrow at her brother, "Kyle did it for Lexi."
Michael scowled up at his sister lifting up his hand to the spot Sweet had designated, focusing his energy, and making the clean cut. "That was cheap, Is," he mumbled.
"But effective." She teased and then looked down at her nephew, cooing, "Now lets see if we can't make you a little more presentable, huh? Knowing your daddy, he'll want every hair in place."
"He has hair?" Michael asked, wondering why he hadn't noticed before.
Isabel rolled her eyes, taking the towel briefly away from her nephew's head to show Michael and Liz the mass of brown hair currently matted to their son's head. Michael smiled and nodded, letting Isabel take him away to hurry up and clean him.
Sweet went about getting Liz cleaned up, delivering the afterbirth, while Miriam buzzed around the room aiding in whatever way she could. Michael kept Liz busy with conversation, though he was feeling far from chatty after such an enormous event and both of their attention would wane over to their son, with every new noise he made.
"Well... " Michael sighed against her neck, "That was... different."
Liz chuckled, "Of all the words in your vernacular, you chose different, to describe childbirth?"
Michael shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry. I've never been good with words."
Miriam placed a clean cool cloth in Michael's hand and he thanked her wiping off his sweaty brow. Miriam let out a small giggle, "Uh Sug... Baby, that's for Liz."
"Oh... yeah..." Michael said nearly blushing, placing the cloth on Liz's brow, "Shit... I'm no good at this..."
"You did fine." Liz reassured him, patting his leg.
"Nice of you to say, Liz, but all I did was sit here." he argued, moving the cloth down onto Liz's neck.
"You were here when it counted, Michael." Liz told him evenly. "It not like they hand out book on how to get through an alien child birth."
"Wouldn't have done any good." Michael reasoned, "I froze. The great general, warrior... rendered useless by seeing his girlfriend in pain."
"Stop it." Liz nearly growled, "He's here now. I didn't do this alone."
Michael nodded reluctantly accepting a light kiss from Liz as Sweet pulled the a clean sheet over her legs. Liz grimaced a bit as she shifted a bit to the side in Michael's arms, the after effects of her labor briefly interrupting her euphoria.
"I'll heal you in a couple days." Michael promised.
Sweet chuckled, shaking his head as he sat beside the young couple, "Better have Isabel do it, Son. After today, you aren't gonna have the energy to get dressed in the morning let alone heal your lady here. Babies have their own schedules."
"Its okay Pop." Michael laughed, "According to Liz, nudity will be futile in this house."
Liz slapped Michael's chest lightly, "Heat of battle, dork. You can't take anything a woman says in the throes of labor seriously."
"Good." Michael teased, "Because personally, I like the boys where they are... attached to my body."
Liz smirked up at him, "Oh no... I was completely serious about that part."
Michael's face fell and Sweet wiped away tears of laughter, patting Liz's hand "Liz, you are cruel, girl."
Michael's eyes darted between Liz, Sweet and across the room to his squirming son. They were both safe and healthy. All the fears he'd had about Liz's body handling the birth, about his son making it through the stressful process... they were washed away and all because of his father.
Months earlier no one was surprised when Sweet had volunteered his services as midwife and they were readily accepted with unwavering trust by Michael and Liz. What Max had never heard from Sweet about Linsey was that after she and the baby's death, when Sweet managed to pull himself together, he went about training to be a midwife. He vowed that no woman, child or husband would ever have to go through what they had. It was their legacy, Sweet's homage to their brief lives. Many of The Lady's new children had been greeted, safely and warmly, with the kind face of one of her favorite souls.
Michael reached a hand out placing over Sweet's and Liz's holding his father's eyes, "Thanks Pop." he said simply, the dam of tears behind his eyes threatening to spill over with his gratitude.
"You're welcome, Michael." Sweet smiled, "Like I told you before...If I can't make 'em, I'm more than happy to bring 'em into the world." He chuckled lightly bringing a weathered hand up to Liz's face, "Though I think I'll admit to holding a little favoritism on this one."
Liz smiled, "Not everyday you get to deliver your grandson."
"Hopefully not the last time either." Miriam added with a wink at her husband, watching both Michael and Liz's eyes widen.
"I just gave birth to this one, Mir." Liz nearly whined, "Could ya give me a year or two to block out the pain of it?"
"Yes. Please." Michael agreed heavily, unsure his tired soul could handle another pregnancy or birth with all the worry he'd been through in the last nine months and the chaos he's experienced in the last few hours of this day. "We are not a grandchild factory."
"Not yet." Miriam sang, as she turned her attention to aiding Isabel with the baby.
Michael and Liz groaned mutually and Sweet chuckled, "Don't you worry. I'll keep her distracted... how is my own business."
"Thank God." Michael rolled his eyes, not eager to hear his father talk about sex.
Sweet laughed, "Besides it'll take me that long to wipe my mind of our sweet Elizabeth here telling me to 'fuck off.' "
Liz's eyes widened and her face grew sheepish, "I said 'kindly'. And in my defense, did you see the size of my son's head?"
Sweet chuckled again, leaning forward to place a kiss on Liz's forehead. There was a gentle knock on the bedroom door and Miriam left Isabel and the baby to open it. Kyle, with Lexi up in his arms stood behind the door eager to meet their newest family member.
"We hear baby cry. He here?" Lexi asked Miriam.
"Sure is, Hon." Miriam said happy tears welling in her eyes again she opened the door wider allowing Lexi and Kyle to come in. They walked over by Isabel who was finishing her clean up on her nephew. Lexi peered down at the little boy and scrunched up her face.
"He all wrinkly... and wittle." she commented.
"Go easy on him Kiddo," Kyle told his daughter, "He's had a rough day. You looked pretty wrinkly too when you were born."
Lexi cocked her head to the side and inspected her cousin once more, "I adoable, so he be too... someday."
"Alexis Michaela James." Isabel admonished her daughter, "He is perfectly adorable now. You're just jealous because you're not the smallest anymore."
Lexi crossed her arms over her chest in defiance, but knew her mother was completely right. She looked over at a worn out Liz and Grumpy, "I go see Auntie."
Kyle nodded setting her down so he could get a closer look at his nephew. Lexi approached the bed tentatively remembering the screams and moans she'd heard coming out of the bedroom all afternoon. The man she now called Papa Sweet picked the now three year old girl and settled her in her lap.
"You okay, Auntie. You yell a lot." she said biting her lip.
Liz smiled, "Yeah I'm okay. Tired. And I yelled because it hurt."
"Must hurt lot, cuz you made Daddy bwush you cuss so bad." Lexi said earning a hearty laugh from everyone in the room.
"Its true Liz." Kyle told her, "Never knew you had it in you."
"I didn't either," Liz mused, "but you try passing the spawn of Michael through your body and see how delicate you can be."
"I'll take your word for it." Kyle winked at her.
Lexi watched her parents cooing over the newborn and her shoulders sunk a bit. Michael tipped her little face up to his, not letting her hide, "I still prettiest? She asked him.
Michael grinned, "Of course. Besides, anyone who goes around calling my son pretty... is gonna get their ass zapped."
Lexi swatted Michael's hand and he shook it away in mock pain. "You not get free pass dis time, Grumpy. Auntie have baby, not you."
"You tell him Sprite." Liz tickled her niece's tummy.
Michael waved off the mini feminist and called out to Kyle, "Gimmee a count, Man."
Kyle nodded looking down at Michael's son and doing a quick count of appendages, "Five. Five. Five. Five. And... One. All present and accounted for my friend. Certified boy. The balance has been restored."
Isabel looked back at Liz and they rolled their eyes as Michael and Kyle pumped their fists in the air in victory. Michael and Kyle never turned it off. Ever since the James had moved to New Orleans, The Brotherhood of the Obscene Body Functions was restored and life was never the same.
Once Isabel had set up shop, Astral Design, Kyle took the money from the sale of their house and bought into Ulysses, no longer being able to be called Servant Boy or Wench by his shaggy haired boss. The two of them counted the days until the baby was born, the balance having been tipped in the women's favor upon Max's departure.
Max's journey seemed to take him everywhere and while Isabel worried constantly, her fretting would ease upon the arrival of a new postcard from some exotic location. Most recently they'd received a letter from him traveling the countryside in Scotland. He left a number to call, wanting to know that Liz and the baby were okay when the time came. He'd even sent the little guy a baby kilt in homage to Michael's Braveheart obsession. He was a long ways from returning home whole, but it was evident that he was on his way.
Michael's attention returned to his son being wrapped up in a blanket by Isabel, "You know I'd like to meet my son before he goes to college, Is."
"Oh shut up, Michael. You've waited nine months you can wait another few seconds." Isabel said lifting the baby off the table and carrying him over to his anxious parents.
Liz reached her arms out immediately and took her son from Isabel's arms. Is saw Michael pouting a bit and tousled his hair, "Hey, she did all the work, she gets first touch, pal."
Michael nodded peering over Liz's shoulder to inspect his son. He watched Liz run a finger over the baby's smooth cheek and his once closed eyes slid open to gaze up at his mother.
"Ow." Liz told her son with a smile, earning laughter from everyone in the room.
Isabel sat beside them and let out an annoyed sigh as she smoothed down the boy's light brown hair, only to have it stick straight up in defiance, "Definitely has Michael's hair."
"Someone had to bring the spikes back." Michael joked. A moment later he groaned, "Damn. He got my nose. Poor kid, dwarfs his face."
"What are you complaining about? Worked for you." Liz defended her son.
"Huh?" Michael scrunched up his face in confusion.
"Big nose...Big hands...Big feet...Big..." Liz provided.
"Oh yeah." Michael said puffing his chest with pride. "They are gifts to be passed down..."
"I don't think so Bozo." Kyle interjected, "I just saw your son's package and if I were him I'd demand a refund."
"Its scale you idiot." Michael returned.
"Isn't it, Gonzo?" Kyle returned.
Michael raised an eyebrow, "Jealous Thumbelina?"
"Ugh!" Isabel moaned, "Leave it to the Grab Ass Twins to ruin a perfectly special moment."
"Little man has to get used to it sometime, Isabel" Sweet pointed out.
"True." Isabel sighed, "There's no such thing as virgin ears around Michael and Kyle."
Michael looked down at Liz in apology only to find her laughing at the two men. He turned his attention back to his son, taking in every feature. He had Liz's olive skin and while his eyes were dark grey at the moment, he was willing to bet they'd be a dark chocolate brown like his mother's.
"He has your hands." Liz whispered.
Michael brought his own hand to the baby's and sucked in a breath when he wrapped long, tiny fingers around his father's index finger. He knew, physically, it was only an instinctive reaction on the baby's part. Reflexive, to grip at something placed in his hand, but he felt the trust. The instant knowledge pass through his son's mind that this was Daddy's hand. Their first contact outside Liz's womb.
Michael spread the baby's finger out so he could inspect the hands, Liz called "His." Long slender fingers, unusual for a baby. Not like Michael had any experience around babies, but all the one's he'd seen had stubby fat fingers. Not this boy. His son.
The skin on the baby's hand was wrinkled, but smooth to the touch. No real lines. No imprint of a life before. A clean slate. But they were tiny duplicates of his own. Little hands that would never do violence. The cycle stopped with him. He was no longer a general. Or an abused kid. He was a father. And a happy one at that.
"What his name?" Lexi asked, and a collective groan seemed to escape the lips of everyone in the room.
Since knowledge of the little man's existence as a boy was revealed, various names had been tossed around by all parties. No one, especially Michael and Liz, could agree on the right name for tiny lad.
"I've had some perfectly good suggestions, "Michael told his niece, "but your aunt here shot them down."
Liz took her eyes away from her son momentarily to roll them at Michael, "Look I'm all about the Metallica and metal love, Michael, but I draw the line at giving our son their names. James, Lars, Jason, Cliff and Kirk are off the table."
Michael growled, "But what ab..."
Liz shook her head, "Nope. Not Lemmy, Sid, Johnny, Axel or Slash either. Now mine were perfectly acceptable."
Michael let out an indignant puff of air, "If I don't get to name him after a musician Liz, you sure as hell don't get to name him after scientists I've barely heard of. Jonas. Louis. Albert. Nuh uh. No way."
Kyle snapped his fingers, "I got it. How about Ghandi? Or maybe Martin." He shrugged his shoulders at the dirty look everyone in the room shot him, "Great spiritual leaders? Oh you people are mean. Fine then." he crossed his arms, "How about Troy? Joe? Payton? Dan?"
"Aikman, Nameth, Manning and Marino." Michael listed off the last names of the quarterbacks Kyle had listed off, "Kinda think they've put their stamp on their names don't you? Besides, I'm a hockey man. And no way am I having a little Wayne, Jamr or Mario. In fact everyone who's ever had to have at least one bridge replacement is immediately off the list"
"Well I think it should be regal." Isabel interjected, "Sophisticated. After all he is something of a prince. How about William? Harry? Phillip? George?"
"Yeah and watch him get his ass kicked everyday in school." Kyle said dryly, "Nice honey."
"Well, seeing how Michael's an artist, and our little mister here will more than likely be his new muse..." Miriam interrupted before Kyle got himself into anymore trouble with his wife, "Why not Vincent? Jackson? Or maybe Carrington?"
"A guy who cut off his ear. A drunk. And a chick?" Kyle chuckled.
"And definitely not David." Michael chimed in earning an impish giggle from Liz and a confused pause from the rest of the room.
"Oh I don't know, Michael" she mused, "After all David did have something to do with our son's conception."
Kyle raised both eyebrows at the couple and opened his mouth to speak, but Michael held his and up, still staring down at his son, "I beg you as your best friend, not to go there."
"Too late." Kyle snickered, "But I won't verbalize it."
"Wise." Sweet chuckled.
"Well this boy needs a name and so far we're comin' up with nuthin'." Miriam said mournfully, her heart pinching at the sight of her son cradling his son in his strong arm. "What about Michael Jr.?"
Michael looked up at his mother with a slight smile and shook his head, "I don't want him growing up feeling like he's gotta fill my shoes, Mir. Or that he has some legacy to carry on. I had to do that. Wouldn't wish that on him."
During the whole argument, the baby slept peacefully in his mother's arm's, his father gazing down on him, disagreeing with every name that came out. None of them seemed to fit. Liz turned her head slightly to see Michael staring down at his son and smiled shifting the child in her arms.
"Take him." she whispered over the melee that was ensuing over their child's name.
Michael's eyes widened a bit and he swallowed audibly. He'd been waiting for this moment since finding out about his son's existence and now he was frozen. What did he know about holding a baby, especially one so small? He thought he was a giant compared to Lexi... but this little guy... Michael was sure he could fit him in his hand.
"Go on." Liz insisted placing the tiny bundle in Michael free arm. She pulled a pillow from one side of the bed so he could rest comfortably and still hold her with his other arm. "I've had him for nine months. Your turn."
Michael smiled, slightly surprised at how natural it felt to have this little boy, who looked so much like him, resting in his arms. He panicked a bit when the baby squirmed and grunted, but quickly relaxed when the baby did. He kept his eyes locked on his child, hoping to find inspiration, something that told him who this little guy was meant to be.
"What about Scottie? Checkov? Jean Luc? Archer? Spock?"
"Kyle..."
"Or maybe Anikan, Luke, Han? Mace? Ben? Jar Jar? What was the name of the guy Liam Neeson played" he continued.
Michael snorted softly at Liz's charge that the names were just a tad too obvious, but kept his attention focused on his son."Who are you, little man?" he whispered. "Give you're old man some help."
His little boy didn't answer, just stretched his tiny mouth into a yawn, eyes opening in heavy sweeps before falling back into slumber. He'd seen that look before...
The Crashdown was quiet, the doors shutting for the last time at nine. Her antennae tilted drunkenly forward, and each blink was getting longer and longer. "Hey Parker, you goin' to clean or sleep?"
"Can't I do both?" she groaned, yawning unapologetically, "You know us humans need our rest."
"Well maybe you should think about that before you go off robbing convenience stores with your alien boyfriend, and wind up picking up double shifts as punishment."
Liz rolled her eyes picking up the broom, "Where were you with that bit of advice a few days ago?"
"Hey I'm full of wisdom, Parker. No one ever asks."
"Oh is that what you're full of..."
"You know, I've always been partial to Eric, Cartman, Kenny, Stan ... or my personal favorite...Kyle."
"Kyle, as your wife, I'm officially banning you from cable."
"How 'bout Scooby, Shaggy or Fred?"
"And no more Cartoon Network for you, Lexi." Liz stifled her laughter.
"Besides, He's little. Looks more like a Scrappy to me." Kyle finished for his daughter.
"No." Isabel growled, "I will not let my nephew be named after anyone who ever occupied the Mystery Machine."
Liz sat atop a worn out picnic bench in rest stop somewhere in Montana. The rusty old VW van that was their traveling home, calling out to her in the chill of the night, but her anger kept her more than warm enough.
"He didn't mean it, Parker." he said seating himself quietly next to her.
"Yes he did, Michael." she answered through clenched teeth.
He shrugged his shoulders, "Okay yeah he did, but what's making us wait here in the middle of nowhere gonna accomplish?"
"Why aren't you angry? The things he said about Maria leaving..." a tear slipped down her cheek.
"..Are the things he needs to believe. Max needs his reasons or everything falls apart. You gotta pick your battles with him, Parker. You and I both know why she left. That's enough."
Liz wiped her eyes and grinned, "Guess you do have a lot of wisdom, huh?"
"Nice for someone to start asking for it." he smirked.
She rose off the table and hopped down with him in tow, "And Michael...its Phillips now." a sad tone came into her voice. "I left Parker behind, remember?"
"Um... yeah. Don't think I'll ever get used to that...
"Well, if you can't stomach something royal at least pick something with class." Isabel huffed, "Like Tristan, or Blaine, or Asleigh... or..."
"...Justin, J.C., Joey, Lance, Or Chris..." Kyle added, earning a death glare from his wife, "Okay, you're more a Backstreet Boys kinda gal...so there's Nick, Brian, Howie..."
"Okay the fact that you know their names, " Liz snickered, "scares me on a whole new level."
"If you really want a musician, I've always been partial to Miles, Duke, or John Lee." Sweet chuckled, "Just don't be thinkin' about namin' him after me. I'm still mad at my momma for blessin' me with Melvin. I say the good Lord was asleep that day."
"At this point we might as well name him after the bar, Ulysses." Isabel groaned, "Or maybe after one of the ones you two used to work at."
"Hmm... Cheeky, Slim or Last Ditch don't really do it for me Is." Liz rolled her eyes.
"Ow!" he grimaced as Liz held a washcloth to the cut above his eyebrow. They had holed up in the seedy bar's back room after Michael had once again defended her honor and body, from handsy patrons.
"Sorry." Liz winced, not realizing she'd put too much pressure on the wound, "You'd think that as many times as I've done this for you, I'd get it right sometime."
"Yeah, well things would be a lot easier if you'd quit having assholes hit on you in these places." he grumbled. He smirked playfully at her, hoping she saw that he didn't blame her for his current state of disrepair.
A smile touched the corner of her mouth, "Its not me. It's the uniform. Makes objects appear sexier than they are."
"Sure. The uniform, Parker" he mumbled, hoping she hadn't heard him , "Do I have to keep this one?" he gestured at the cut she was currently bandaging.
"Afraid so." Liz sighed, "A few too many people saw you get it."
"Guy got a lucky shot." Michael mused, doing his best to ignore the softness of her fingertips brushing his hair away from his face. He watched her bite her lip staring down at him. He'd come to learn her tell, she had something on her mind, "What?"
Liz's eyes widened, realizing she'd been caught, "Nothing... I mean.. Um. Why do you do it, Michael?"
"Do what?" he asked as she wiped away the drying blood from his lip.
"Work with me in these bars." She answered, furrowing her brow, "Protect me. Did Max ask you to keep an eye on me?"
Michael cast his eyes down to the floor, "No. He didn't. But I figured he should have so..."
Liz's face fell and then she smiled down at him, tipping his face up to meet hers, "Thanks. Nice to have a friend around."
Michael blushed uncharacteristically, "Uh.. No problem." he cleared his throat and rose off the chair, "We ...uh... better finish our shift."
"Right." Liz nodded making her way out of the back room to return to the bar. She stopped in the doorway and looked back at him, "I'll fix the scrapes on your knuckles when we get home. Meet me in the usual spot?"
Michael smirked and nodded, "Rooftop."
Liz smiled making to leave but turning back abruptly, "When are you gonna stop calling me 'Parker'?"
Michael's eyes widened, realizing she'd heard his earlier opinion on what made her uniform sexy, but he wasn't about to apologize for it, "When it feels right to call you something else, I guess."
"But I'm married to Max... Shouldn't it feel right to call me..."
"Yeah, you'd think so." he waved her away, before she could question him further, "Get back to work, Parker."
"How about, Huck or Tom?" Kyle quipped, "Or maybe Harry? Ron? Hell, I'd settle for Draco at this point."
"And for those who read beyond the sixth grade level..." Isabel rolled her eyes, "Robert, Will, Edgar, Byron..."
"There's a reason I married you right?" Kyle grumbled.
Miriam chuckled softly, "Well given Michael's obsession with Braveheart we could always call him Wallace."
"Well if we go with movie characters, then we should include, Neo or Morpheus." Liz laughed, and saw Sweet raise a confused eyebrow at her, "Matrix."
"What about Charles?" Isabel threw out desperately, determined to give her nephew some sort of name, as it was looking more and more like the little boy would go through his life without a suitable moniker.
Liz smiled, "Actually," she looked back at Michael, whom was still staring down at their son in search for inspiration, "We're using Charles as his middle name. That much we know."
"Why?" Isabel asked, bewildered by the new information.
Liz sighed, "Believe it or not, Charles seems to be a running theme in our lives. My grandfather's name was Charles. Michael's human donor, Charles Dupree. And Alex..." she watched Isabel's eyes widen with realization.
"... Alex's middle name was Charles." Isabel finished, tears filling her eyes as she settled her gaze between the new baby and her daughter, "Yeah, that seems right. He can have part of someone special. Just like Lexi."
"Yeah, but we are still no closer to giving the kid a first name." Kyle pointed out. "Now hear me out Clint, Arnold, Sly...Or Bruce! Willis or Lee, its up to you. Now those are tough guy names. Not a wussy in the bunch."
"Ugh!" Isabel threw her hands in the air, "Its got to be significant Kyle. It has to mean something important to both Michael and Liz, not just some random testosterone infused moniker..."
The two of them sitting on the balcony of the apartment, catching up on life and what brought Liz to New Orleans...
"I missed you too, Parker."
"Jeffries. Mr. Joyce." Liz corrected with a smile, "Jeffries."
"You'll always be Parker to me, Liz." ...
"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."...
"Parker."
"Michael," Liz groaned, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me..."
"I was talking to our son, Liz." he stated evenly, seriously.
Liz looked down at the baby and back up at Michael, "Parker?"
"Someone has to carry on the name if you won't" Michael smirked, "And I figure it'll appease your dad, given that I haven't made an honest woman out of you... yet."
Liz smiled at him in understanding and then glanced back down at her son, "Yeah. Parker. It's a good name."
The whole room had grown quiet. Not an objection in the bunch, something of sign in itself given the bedlam that had occurred over this child's name.
Sweet reached out a weathered hand and the baby wrapped his tiny hand around his grandfather's finger, "Welcome to the family Parker Charles Jeffries-Joyce."
"Johnston." Michael corrected, watching Sweet's eyes shoot up from his new grandson to his son's.
"I don't..." he started to say.
"It's a little late in my life to have you adopt me," Michael explained to Sweet, feeling Liz grip his hand, having talked about this decision weeks earlier, "but I figured you wouldn't object to me changing my name to Johnston. Feels right. But its up to you..." Michael trailed off as he saw tears slip down Sweet and Miriam's cheeks, "I didn't mean to make you cry..."
"You just gave me a grandson, and told me you're takin' my name...Son, tears are warranted." Sweet smiled.
"So...its okay?" Michael fished needing to hear the confirmation.
Sweet shook his head chuckling, "Boy, sometimes I think you are just thick in the head. Of course its okay."
Michael let out a breath and smiled at his father. Finally he was going to have a name that meant something. Guerin had been forced upon him. Hetfield and Joyce had been youthful idols, but Johnston was his father's name. It was fitting given that Michael himself had just become one.
Michael looked down at his son, who was staring up at his daddy with crossed newborn eyes, "So it's Parker Charles Jeffries-Johnston."
"P.J. Squared." Kyle snickered.
"Daddy..." Lexi warned.
"Sorry." Kyle shrugged his shoulders, "It's a good name you two."
"It'll just be one J." Liz said cryptically.
"What do you mean?" Michael asked, a sudden fear gripping his heart , "Liz, I want him to have my last name..."
Liz leaned back cutting off Michael's worries with a kiss, "I do too. I'm dropping Jeffries and taking Johnston. Now that our son has a part of my family, I want to share his last name. No hyphen."
Michael stared back at Liz, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. She wanted his name.
"Does that mean you two are finally gonna get married?" Isabel asked excitedly, wedding cakes practically dancing in her eyes.
"Baby steps, Is." Michael laughed, reading the uncertain expression on Liz's face. She still wasn't ready for marriage and he was too happy to care.
"Lets see, she's taken your name and had just your child..." Kyle observed, "My friend you might want to get Liz to define 'baby steps'."
"We defy definition." Liz said smugly, dramatically scratching her eyebrow to mimic Michael.
Michael raised an eyebrow at her, "And you say I'm not rubbing off on you?"
"Ahh correction Daddy Dearest," Liz said with an air of arrogance, "I said you 'will do no more rubbing on me.' Subtle difference I realize."
"I'd hardly call that subtle, Liz." Isabel snickered watching Michael's smirk fall into disappointment.
"And from the sound of it, Michael won't be getting har..." Kyle began, but Isabel covered his mouth with her hand.
"Why don't we just leave the little family alone for a few minutes." she said quickly.
"Or we could just look for a way to shut your husband up." Sweet winked at Isabel.
Everyone made their way out of the room to give the new Johnston trio some privacy, Isabel promising to call Liz's parents to let them know about their grandson's arrival.
Lexi was the last to leave peering down at her new cousin and shaking his tiny hand, before running out of the room to join her parents, "We cause lots of trouble, Pawker."
As soon as the door shut Michael and Liz let out sigh and Michael shifted Parker back into his mother's arms, "Who knew picking a name would take so much effort." Michael whined.
"Oh yeah." Liz rolled her eyes, "Labor was nuthin' compared to that."
Michael laughed and watched Parker try to stretch in the confines of his blanket. Liz whispered her son's name contentedly and turned back to Michael, "What really made you settle on, Parker?"
Michael scratched his eyebrow in thought for a moment. Throughout their existence names had played such an important part of their lives. The ones from previous lives, current ones, false ones...all containing the measure of who they were. And the one thing that had always bothered Michael about Liz, the reason he always called her Parker, was because that's when he remembered her being the happiest, being Liz Parker. When she married Max, went on the run, she had to leave that behind, gave up her identity, along with her dreams and it never seemed right to him. Parker had meant safety, stability, belonging, unconditional love. To Liz it meant home.
"You always smiled when I called you Parker." he told her simply, eliciting the reaction the using name always got from her.
"Thank God you have a penchant for misunderstood Irish authors, Michael." she whispered, leaning back into him, her fingers playing with her new son's soft spiky hair.
"Hey, he's only misunderstood because the reading public is not intelligent enough..." Michael began only to be caught off by her laugh.
"It's okay Michael. I've grown pretty fond of Ulysses myself, no one can ever tell me it's not a rewarding experience."
Michael smirked at his apparent victory, "So you admit that Joyce is a better author than Faulkner?"
"I admit that the search definitely made it worth while." she offered.
"Is that a 'yes'?"
"Best you're gonna get from me."
"Dammit, Liz," he murmured, his voice lacking any real heat.
He had years to get her to change her mind. He glanced down at Parker and made a mental note to add Joyce to his baby's must reads. You could never have enough back up. Hopefully his son's journey to Ulysses would be much smoother, but filled with no less love.
THE END :)
(Epilogue was hinted at, if found, will post it)