Snapple and Tabasco Sauce (CC, M/M, TEEN) AN-10/22/08 [WIP]

[Mac]

Title: Snapple and Tabasco sauce

Author: Mac

Disclaimer: The characters of “Roswell” belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.

Pairings and Category: M/M with M/L implied. This is a CC fanfic

Rating: Teen

Summary: You know you’re still in love with your alien ex when…

AN: This one won't be a very long story and I have the vast majority of it already written so the updates should be fairly quick in coming... the speed of the updates depends entirely on the readers, so if you want another update fast then tell me! Also this is only my second Roswell fic so I'm not particularly experienced at this and i'm sure there'll be mistakes... bare with me I promise it'll be worth it!

Chapter 1

You know you’re still in love with your alien ex (lover, boyfriend, fiancé?) when you go out shopping and automatically reach for the Tabasco sauce as you walk down the condiments aisle. And only a miniscule amount of the time do you realize what you’re doing and stop yourself. Because your mind will perpetually classify Tabasco sauce as something you are eternally in need of… because it’s never quite been able to comprehend that Michael isn’t watching hockey at home and waiting for you to get back with the Snapple (and that often goes into the basket too).

Sometimes you’ll realize what you’ve done before you get to the check-out counter. And then you’ll walk back down the aisles, face crimson with shame, and reluctantly put those items you don’t really need back in their rightful place. But most times; the vast majority of them really, you only realize what you’ve done when you’re unpacking the groceries at home. And then you’ll open the fridge to put away his favorite drink and be faced with an entire shelf already dedicated to Snapple. And you’ll see the Tabasco sauce and want to bang your head against the counter in frustration… because you have a cupboard full of it already.

You know you’re still in love with your alien ex when you force yourself to drink Snapple… because there’s so much of it in the fridge and you don’t want to let it go to waste. And even though you won’t admit it to yourself, you’ll never throw it away. So there’s a constant supply of Snapple in the fridge… and you drink it so much you begin to like it.

You know you’re still in love with your alien ex when you start to add a splash of Tabasco sauce to everything you cook… because you have a cupboard full of it that you can’t stand to throw away. And the slight bite in every meal becomes so normal to you, that regular food starts to taste just a small bit wrong.

You know you’re still in love with your alien ex when you become an undercover Tabasco sauce supplier. Because even if you’re adding splashes of the stuff to every meal, you’re still buying far more than you could ever hope to consume… because you can’t drink it in your Snapple like he did. And a splash is different from half a bottle. So you leave a bottle in Liz’s cupboard when you visit, because you know Max will finish it so quickly Liz will barely notice she’s had to buy one less bottle of the stuff. And Isabel’s cupboard of Tabasco mysteriously becomes slightly more chock-a-block for all of five seconds before her kids get hold of it. And the ‘Crash Down Café’, which has always strangely gone through far too much Tabasco sauce, doesn’t go through quite as much after you’ve made a secret visit to the supply closet.

You know you’re still in love with your alien ex when even though you’re donating dribs and drabs of Tabasco to what seems like the whole of Roswell, and using the spicy sauce far more than the average household, and drinking Snapple like it’s going out of fashion… you still always have Snapple in your fridge and Tabasco in the cupboard. And you don’t like to think about it, because you refuse to admit to yourself that you’re hoping against hope that he’s going to do what you can’t… that he’s going to put his pride and his stubbornness aside and come back. And then there’ll be someone drinking Tabasco sauce in his Snapple and you’ll need the supply. And you won’t admit that the supply must always be ready just in case that does happen.

But not admitting it somehow doesn’t stop your heart and your subconscious from maintaining the constant supply, from allowing your hand to reach for the Tabasco sauce every time you walk down the condiment aisle.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when you find yourself checking the hockey scores without even thinking about it, and being a little disappointed every time his favorite team looses a game, and a little bit elated every time they win. And you know you’re still in love with him when you’re in the middle of a sappy part of a movie, and you unconsciously change to a sports channel because in your mind he’s sitting next to you on the couch moaning about being forced to watch ‘chick-flicks’.

And you know you’re still in love with him when even though you’ve realized he’s not on the couch next to you, you carry on watching wrestling because for a minute it makes you feel just a little bit connected to him. But in your mind you’ll tell yourself you’re only watching it because it’s fun to mock the wrestler’s costumes, and you didn’t really want to watch that bit of the movie anyway.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when after a really long and bad day, you’ll curl up on the couch eating ice cream and watching his copy of ‘Brave Heart’ instead of some suitably unrealistic romance.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when a new friend asks why you have Metallica on your MP3 player, and you don’t have an answer. You just know that he put it on, and you can’t make yourself delete it… you can’t even skip past the songs when they begin to play, and sometimes you even find yourself humming them in the shower. You don’t care to question why you felt the need to purchase their new CD, or why a Metallica poster still graces the lounge wall.

You know you still love him when you physically have to stop yourself from speed-dialing one if something goes wrong in your life. And you know you still love him when even after too many months Liz and your mother still sit on speed-dial two and three respectively.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when you can’t bring yourself to stop wearing the thin gold chain that’s looped though the thin gold band of your ex-engagement-ring. And when at the end of the day it comes out of hiding from underneath your clothes, you feel a pang of guilt as you look at the beloved little diamond that you so stupidly called cheap that day you’d pulled it off your finger and thrown it at him. And you rub your finger over it and remember how hard you’d cried after the door had slammed shut behind him. And you remember sinking to your knees, and searching desperately with shaking hands through the blur of constantly falling tears for that most precious possession. And you remember how hours later you were still on your hands and knees, now with eyes so red from crying and crackly with remnants of salt that you were as good as blind. And you remember how your fingers had finally stumbled across it after all that time, and fresh tears had come even though you’d thought more tears would be impossible, because your beloved little ring looked so shrunken and forlorn as it lay defeated on that cold tile… somehow isolated from every other object.

And you had dashed away your tears and scooped it up and replaced it on its rightful finger, and then you had sat down on the couch that smelled like Michael to listen for the sound of his motorcycle coming back up the road. And you had sat on that couch until dawn… your mouth slowly drawing into a thinner and thinner line as you fought back yet more tears and forced yourself not to grab your phone with your shaking hands and speed dial number one.

And as the days passed without the sound of his motorcycle coming back up the road the little ring began to become more than a little out of place when it sparkled in the sunshine on your hand. So you put it on a little gold chain that he’d given you as well, and hid it away from the sun and prying eyes under your clothes where it couldn’t sparkle. But at night when those masking clothes came off, the ring slipped right back onto the finger that had seemed to call out for it through all the excruciatingly long day.

And sometimes in the morning you forget to take it off, and only realize when your hand moves to turn the steering wheel of the Jetta, and the little ring sparkles joyously in the early morning light that streams through the windshield… as if it believes that it will be allowed to sparkle in the sunshine all day. And the cracks in your heart grow a little bit longer every time you have to hide the little ring away under your dull work shirt… every time your heart is forced to submit to the fact that today it won’t be allowed to beat for him… to belong to him.

And you know you’re still in love with your Michael when every time you hear a motorcycle coming up the road, your feet fly unbidden in the direction of the window… and your eyes scan every familiar inch of the road for the slightest hint of him without your permission.

And mostly you know you’re still in love with your Michael because in your heart he still is your Michael… and you know instinctively that if your Michael ever dared to step through the doorway again, every rebellious part of you would sing for joy, and your mutinous arms would stretch out wide to welcome him home.



You know you’re still in love with your ex (lover, girlfriend, fiancé?) when you let your cupboards and fridge slowly empty completely of all food, and put off buying groceries until the very last minute… because somehow you’re still convinced that any minute she’s going to walk through the door, arms laden with groceries, and demand that you get up off your ‘lazy ass’ to fetch the shopping bags still sitting in the boot of the Jetta.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when, after you’ve finally been able to drag yourself to the grocery store, you’ll buy a tub of vanilla and a tub of strawberry ice cream… because maybe she and Liz will have a movie night tomorrow, and Maria hardly ever allows herself to buy ice cream because she’s so conscientious about your tiny income.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when you have to ask for the Tabasco sauce at a hot dog stand… and it seems so entirely wrong. You never bring your own along because your heart still takes for granted the fact that Maria always carries a bottle in her hand bag… and when she’s working in the Crash Down she’ll always bring a bottle along with your meal without even thinking about it. So needing to ask for Tabasco at a restaurant is completely ridiculous.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when even though she’s on the other side of the country, you still always put the toilet seat down for her. And sometimes you’re ridiculously tempted to leave it up just because you’re sure that if you do, in five minutes she’ll pop up out of thin air to shout at you about it.

You know that you’re still in love with her when you miss her shouting.

You know you’re still in love with her when you brush your teeth and you look at the unused red toothbrush that lies next to yours. The red toothbrush that you bought just in case you ever had visitors… not because her toothbrush was always red… not because you’re sure one day she’ll track you down and need her red toothbrush… not because your blue toothbrush is incredibly lonely sitting in its cup all by itself.

You know you’re still in love with her when you find yourself listening to an old tape of her singing with ‘The Whits’ on nights that you can’t sleep. And you won’t admit that you can’t sleep because she isn’t lying in bed next to you… you just aren’t tired.

You don’t think about the fact that in the cupboard above the bathroom sink there’s a neat row of little bottles full of strong smelling liquids that you’ll take down and hold below your nose every now and then.

You know you’re still in love with her when after you drop your phone on a pedestrian crossing and watch in horror as it’s obliterated by the traffic from the safety of the sidewalk, you’re willing to pay a small fortune out of your still rather small salary to keep your cell phone number the same. You won’t admit that it’s because you hope against hope every time your phone rings (which isn’t too often) that it’ll be her.

You know you’re still in love with your ex when even after over four years you still can’t walk past a jewelry store without stopping to stare into the window. You can’t stop yourself from looking at all the elegant expensive rings studded with diamonds and wishing you’d been able to give Maria one of them… wishing you’d been able to give her what she deserved. You can’t help thinking about the thin gold band that held a solitary small diamond that had fit so perfectly on her hand… that little ring that you had spent so long saving and looking for. And you can’t help remembering that last fight… that last awful fight and how you had fled when she threw it at you… how you had felt when she threw it at you; unworthy… so unworthy of her with your tiny ring and your tiny income and your inability to support her and your inability to communicate with her and your constant need of reassurance from her.

You know you’re still in love with Maria every time you open your wallet and see the picture of the two of you that finds its home there; the photo so familiar that you can and have sketched it from memory. And some part of you calls out for her every time you look upon her smiling face; every time you contemplate those depthless green eyes. Some part of you dies every time you think about how long it’s been since the photo was taken… how long it’s been since you’ve seen that expression on her face… how long it’s been since you felt worthy just because you of all screwed up people could put a smile like that on her face.

You refuse to think about the fact that being without her… being without them… made you feel worthless at first. And when in the middle of the lonely night the thought sneaks up on you, your vulnerable heart must face the fact that perhaps it was part of the reason that things had gone so wrong… Perhaps the fact that you’d relied on her as the source of your self worth had been wrong… had been too much to expect even from her.

You know you’re still in love with your Maria when you acknowledge the fact that now; even though you’ve made it on your own, even though you know you’re worth so much more than the world ever taught you to believe, you still ache for the presence of your Maria. Because even though you don’t need her to make you feel like a decent human being anymore… you still want her presence to enrich your life… you still know that your life would be so much better, so much happier, with her in it.

But it’s been so long now that you’re afraid to go back… afraid to go back and find strangers living in your apartment… afraid to stumble across her in the park with a blonde haired, green eyed baby on her hip and a laughing, non-alien husband at her side.

So you don’t go home… and you don’t ask about her when you call Isabel every now and again… but you still don’t even look at the new student teacher at work that keeps trying to throw herself at you. And you still keep vanilla and strawberry ice cream in your deep freeze.

AN: Hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you thought!

[Mac]

AN: Hi everyone, here's the next chapter. Again, if you want a fast update just let me know! Thanks very much to those who sent feedback: xmag, nibbles2, stinebiene and crazysnape. you guys are awesome!

Chapter 2

She walked quickly through the streets of Chicago armed with a Styrofoam cup of coffee to help her get through the afternoon meeting she was already late for. She hated big cities! She hated business trips, and managerial conferences and being away from Roswell.

She’d never have believed in high school that she would have ever hated leaving Roswell… it was the first thing she had found out she had in common with Michael… “There had to be something better than Roswell, New Mexico.”

Darn it, Maria! She thought. You have to stop thinking about him! It’s been four years!

It didn’t occur to her that trying not to think about him was a rather pointless exercise in light of the fact that he was the reason she didn’t want to leave Roswell. Some terrified part of her believed that one day he would come back and she wouldn’t be there… he would come back and think that she had moved on, moved away, and forgotten about him.

For the same reason she had never changed the locks. She had lost her keys twice. He had the spare keys. And on both occasions she had forced Max and Isabel to lock and unlock the door every morning and evening with their powers until her keys finally turned up. She would not let him believe that she didn’t want him in that apartment. She would suffer (and make others suffer) the inconvenience of having no keys for weeks rather than take the chance of him coming home one day to find that his key didn’t fit the lock. It didn’t matter that he would have been able to get into the apartment with a wave of his hand anyway. It was a silent message that said ‘you can come in’, a message she knew he would never come in without.

As she crossed yet another busy street she thought about the note that was even now stuck to their front door. It said: ‘Mrs. Talbot… I’ve gone to Chicago on business. I’ll be back on Wednesday. Max and Liz will come by to feed Jerry so don’t worry!’ Jerry was her goldfish. Mrs. Talbot was the elderly woman that lived next door and would probably never read the note. The note was not meant for her. The note was a cleverly disguised message to Michael in case he showed up.

The note said… ‘I’m single since I need Max and Liz to feed my goldfish, and I’m not here right now so please, please, please come back!’ In, of course, a very subtle and undecipherable Maria manner.

She stopped in front of the building her meeting was being held in to dig in her oversized bag for her ID… why they needed ID for this thing she didn’t know, all she knew was that the damn thing had a talent for getting engulfed and lost in her handbag. For no particular reason she looked up while her hand groped around at the bottom of the bag.

Her hand closed around something smooth and cylindrical just as her eyes lit on a familiar scruffy brown head of her. She froze… in an instant her eyes had greedily taken in his familiar silhouette. He stood with his back to her, buying a hotdog from a vendor across the street. She shook her head to rid herself of the ridiculous thought.

It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him. It was just some random stranger and her imagination was going wild. He wouldn’t wear clothes like that anyway. It wasn’t him. Why was she trying so hard to convince herself of that? Why was she failing? Some part of her knew already.

He turned away from the stand, hotdog in hand, and she caught site of his face. Her heart flew into her throat… It was him. It was him. It was him! That was the only thing her mind appeared capable of thinking. At that moment… that one stretching, timeless moment… there was nothing else in the world for Maria but him.

Her eyes were riveted to his face. She saw him take a few steps, and then look down at his hotdog and freeze. There was something wrong. Something about that hotdog put a look that was at once both heartbroken and wistful into his eyes.

He turned back around to the vendor and requested something. The vendor shook his head and Michael sighed before taking a bite out of his hotdog and grimacing. Maria knew that look… there was no Tabasco on his hotdog. Her hungry eyes followed him until he rounded a corner and walked out of site.

Then her eyes finally drifted back to her handbag… not really seeing anything. Her hand emerged still grasping the smooth cylindrical object… it was a small bottle of Tabasco sauce.

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He didn’t know what made him stop that night, on that corner, on his walk home… but for some reason, very suddenly, all of his muscles tensed up and refused to budge, and then the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. And then he turned his head to the side to look into the wide glass front window of a restaurant.

And there she was.

At first he though he was daydreaming. He inconspicuously zapped his palm with a tiny jolt of electricity. When he looked back she was still there.

And he knew she wasn’t a daydream because she looked different.

She looked less stressed and tightly wound… but somehow more care worn around the eyes. Like she knew what disappointment felt like. Her wardrobe was very much toned down from the one he was familiar with. She was wearing formal work attire and very natural make-up. Her hair was cut shorter than when he had last seen it, and styled so that it framed and enhanced her face.

She took his breath away.

For long minutes he just stood staring at her in utter disbelief. She was here. Maria was here.

It was really her.

She was staring rather morosely at a bottle of Snapple that lay on the table in front of her. He was secretly glad to note she sat alone. She twisted the bottle around and around, her eyes taking on a dazed look that told him she had gone somewhere else. She had checked out of reality and was possibly performing on a stage somewhere in her mind.

The waiter snapped her back into reality, and she offered him a brief sad smile as he placed her food before her. She looked down at it distastefully and then looked up at another object on the table. It was a small bottle of Tabasco sauce. Like the ones she used to carry in her handbag for him. Like the one he had somehow expected at the hotdog stand today. She simply stared at it sadly for a moment before picking it up and sprinkling just a little of it on her meal and then slowly lifting her fork to begin eating.

And he would have stood there watching her just eat all night if a pedestrian hadn’t walked right into him and pulled him out of his reverie. He looked back towards her table but she was gone… her half eaten pasta still waiting for her on the table.

[Mac]

AN: Hi everyone! I know I promised this this weekend but I just didn’t have any free time… sorry! I hope you enjoy this one… the second part is my favorite so far! Thanks so much for all the feedback and encouragement: Bobby CB, Buddha-boy, crazysnape, nibbles2, RhondaAnn, Flamehair, xmag, stinebiene, bettylove8 and tequathisy.

Chapter 3: Terror

He couldn’t sleep that night.

There was a strange sense of anticipation that surrounded him; as if at any moment there would be a knock on his door and there she would be.

And when after hours of tossing and turning it finally occurred to him that even trying to sleep was entirely pointless, he got out of bed and restlessly paced the small apartment.

He changed his sheets.

For some reason he could hear her voice in his head threatening him about changing the sheets.

When that was done he picked up the discarded shirt and socks that lay on his bedroom floor and stuffed them into the laundry hamper.

Then he went to the bathroom to ensure the toilet seat was down.

And while he was there he just had to make sure that the red toothbrush was still in its place in the cup next to the sink.

Then he went to the kitchen and scrubbed the pan that he had used to make his dinner in so ferociously that that it shone brighter than it had when he’d just brought it home from the store.

When he checked the bottom drawer of the freezer he was dismayed to find that the strawberry ice cream was half eaten, and the vanilla, which he never touched, was past its expiry date. So at two in the morning he found himself pacing the aisles of a gas station convenience store in a grungy pair of jeans and a wife beater.

And once he’d picked out a fresh tub of strawberry ice cream (the most expensive brand), he suddenly felt the need to buy muesli, even though the only cereal he liked generally came with kids toys as free gifts. And then while he was passing the teas he had the sudden urge to buy a few variations of herbal teas… never mind the fact that he only drank coffee.

And suddenly he was finding he was in need of a great many things that he hadn’t been in need of the whole time he’d been in Chicago, so that by the time he reached the check out counter he had a trolley full of stuff and was obliged to use his credit card rather than the ten bucks he had in his back pocket and had intended to use for the ice cream.



She was on break again the next day when she saw him. She’d taken a walk down the street from where they were having the conference and found a pretty little park where she could have some tea in peace.

Where she could be alone with her thoughts without being bothered by the knowledge that she should be paying attention to the people around her. Because no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on work it was impossible.

Concentrating on anything but him had been impossible since the moment she’d set eyes on him only a few blocks from where she was now the day before.

So with her mind wrapped up in old daydreams she wandered through the park, until without quite realizing it she wandered out of the park, and crossed the street to stand outside of a school.

Through wire mesh she watched the children on the playground. It was recess. She caught sight of a little dark haired girl with pigtails and was immediately reminded of Liz when they were younger. The warm, gap toothed smile that transformed her face when she caught site of a friend with blonde ringlets did absolutely nothing to weaken the resemblance.

Maria smiled sadly as she watched them chatting animatedly as they ran across the playground to join a game of hopscotch.

When they had run out of sight her eyes fell on a little boy. He stood alone in the shadow of the school building with his arms crossed protectively against his chest. His sandy blonde head was bowed slightly, and dark eyes looked suspiciously out from his scowling face.

He made her heart ache.

She knew his expression too well. He was a miniature of Michael. And he was hurt, and afraid, and had built walls around himself too high and too strong to show it.

As she watched a man approached him.

And for few seconds she stood with white fingers entangled in the mesh clinging for dear life when she realized it was Michael.

She watched in complete shock, her mouth agape, as they conversed. At first the boy looked nervous. His dirty sneaker clad foot kicked idly at the pebbles beneath his feet and he made no eye contact with Michael. It didn’t seem to put Michael off a bit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a spinning top, turning it idly around in his hands and still talking to the young boy in a friendly and non menacing way.

There was something in his manner that even from this distance seemed reassuring, and Maria could tell that it was purposeful, she could tell that Michael knew just how to deal with this child.

In a few moments the boy was walking into the school building with an air of poorly disguised excitement surrounding him. He was back quickly, and went strait towards Michael, holding what seemed to be a wallet out to him. Michael ruffled his hair slightly and smiled at him. She saw his mouth clearly enunciate the words ‘Thanks dude!’, before he handed the boy the top.

There was a moment of undisguised delight as the boy received it that warmed her heart, and though he hastily retreated back into his ‘cool guy’ act, Maria could still see how pleased the boy was. She watched Michael watch him walk a little bit away and then try the top out.

A couple of the other boys were playing with tops a little way away from him, and soon a friendly bespectacled boy had noticed their new companion.

“Hey Brendan, cool top!” He shouted, and beckoned him over. Maria watched as Brendan hesitantly joined the other boys, and then saw Michaels smile as he watched the boys.

His attention however was soon drawn elsewhere by a crying little girl.

“Mr. Guerin! Derrick pulled my hair and said it was ugly!” The girl proclaimed.

Mr. Guerin? Michael was a teacher. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Somehow her brain had completely disregarded the fact that there must have been a reason for him to be standing in the middle of a playground.

Michael was a teacher.

Her Michael was a teacher.

There was something about him being a teacher that seemed so right to her that she wondered how she had never though of him being one before… and yet still her mind struggled to grasp it, struggled to understand this unknown side of Michael.

And she felt the tears welling up in her eyes.

She didn’t know him anymore. She didn’t even know what he did for a living for heavens sake!

And a sudden fear gripped her heart… fear that his profession wasn’t the only thing she didn’t know about him.

He had an entirely new life here. A life without her. He had proved that he had absolutely no need of her. And didn’t it make sense that there would be a new woman in his life. Some perfect new girlfriend that didn’t sniff cypress oil whenever she got nervous.

Maybe even a wife.

The thought was almost enough to break her heart all over again.

What if he had a wife? What if he lived in a perfect little house with a perfect pregnant wife that didn’t scream at him for leaving his shoes in the lounge and a gorgeous little toddler that liked to sit on his dads lap while he watched hockey and a dog called Rocket that licked the little boys face and made him giggle and pretty green shutters and window boxes and a white picket fence?

Maria could feel herself starting to panic.

She had to get out of here. She had to get out of here.

She turned around and bolted.

And she didn’t see a single thing until she had locked herself safely into her hotel room and collapsed on the bed to cry.

AN: Hope you enjoyed it, and please let me know what you thought!

[Mac]

AN: Hi everyone! I was so encouraged by your feedback that I’m getting this one up super fast, despite not having it prewritten. Some of the credit for one of the ideas in this chapter must go to xmag as she said something in her feedback that really triggered my imagination! I’m sorry it took me so long to reply to feedback, but I’ve been a bit sick!

Hugs and Sunflowers go out to all my wonderful feedbackers: BobbyCB, crazysnape, RhondaAnn, Nibbles2, xmag, tequathisy, Arianneleigh, spacegirl23, stinebiene and Flamehair.

Thank you so much… the encouragement I’ve been receiving for this story has meant so much to me and really fuelled my writing!

Enjoy!
Mac

Chapter 4: Hazelnut Latte’s

It was halfway through recess when he noticed her. He was in the middle of trying to figure out just exactly what had happened between Suzie Dowell and Derrick Finnegan when he felt just a slight prickling at the back of his neck and then turned and caught sight of her.

She was standing at the fence, her hands clutching the mesh so tightly her knuckles were white. And she was looking at him… except she wasn’t really. Her eyes were glazed over and on her face was an expression of such pain that it sent a lightning bolt of fear strait to his heart.

And then she turned and bolted, but not in time to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

“Maria!” He shouted, not hearing Suzie and Derrick arguing in front of him, not caring that there was a playground full of kids he was meant to be watching.

He abruptly abandoned Suzie and Derrick who watched in shock as Mr. Guerin ran towards the school gate. He sprinted as fast as his long legs would carry him, strait through the school gate and then through the park, following the blonde head moving rapidly forward some way in front of him.

He reached the street on the other side of the park and only had time to see her crossing it before he lost sight of her behind a bus. He swore and ran forward, only just missing being hit by an oncoming car which emitted an angry honk at the fact that he was crossing the street when the robot at the pedestrian crossing was quite clearly red.

Miraculously still in tact on reaching the other side of the street, Michael’s head swiveled in all directions, constantly searching in vain for the familiar head of shiny copper/gold hair. But among the bustling crowd she was nowhere to be seen. He had lost her. He had lost her again… and his heart ached at the thought. He never did seem to be able to hold onto her.

And then a woman holding the hand of a little girl walked passed him and he suddenly remembered that it was recess and he had a class of ten year olds to teach and reality wouldn’t take kindly to being put on hold while he searched for his long lost ex-fiancé.

So he slowly crossed the road again with his hands deep in his pockets and a sad look in his eyes that was all too similar to the one Brendan so often wore.

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He called in sick the next day. It was a first. Never before had he allowed the horrors of a substitute teacher to be inflicted on his students.

But today was different.

Today he knew that he would be too distracted to do any good; just as he had been the afternoon before. Today he knew that while he might have dragged his body into the familiar, cheerful classroom, the rest of him would be so far from it that going would be an exercise in futility.

Instead he went where his thoughts and heart had been ever since recess the previous day… to the busy street across from the park.

At seven thirty he entered Starbucks, ordered a large coffee, and then proceeded to sit on his own at the picture window looking out over the street, searching every passing face.

He would have waited all day; but he saw her at just after nine in the morning. On her face was a beautiful genuine smile that for a moment so enraptured and distracted him that he didn’t notice who she walked with.

When she turned her eyes up to her companion however Michael’s momentary happiness was entirely shattered.

It was Billy.

Billy who had had kissed his Maria in senior year. Billy who had almost been the ruin of their relationship!

The coffee cup in his hands started to heat up and the coffee to boil without him even noticing.

What he did notice was that Billy was wearing an expensive looking leather jacket and designer jeans. He obviously wasn’t playing his guitar on New York street corners anymore. It was a grievous disappointment, but at this point Michael would have settled for him being successful anywhere but in Chicago, because as much as he wished that Billy was slowly wasting away on a street corner, his greatest wish was to have him as far away from Maria as humanly possible. In fact keeping him as far away from Maria as Alienly possible was even better, the thought of using the granolith to catapult him into outer space was intensely satisfactory.

He was brought out of his malicious train of thought by the splashes of coffee that were erupting from his boiling hot cup to scald his fingers.

He winced and hastily withdrew his hands, hiding them beneath the table and forcing himself to calm down at least enough to heal the minor burns that stung his palms.

When he looked up again they were coming through the door into Starbucks.

He wanted to run; run far and long so that he didn’t have to bear witness to the love of his life sharing her life with someone else.

Were they dating?
Were they engaged?
Were they married?

He couldn’t see Maria’s hand… she was wearing gloves. And Billy still had her tucked up against him snugly and his arm was around her shoulder.

And he was wearing a wedding band.

And when he got to the counter Michael watched his lips form the words he knew so well himself… he even recited them softly along with him.

One hazelnut latte with extra cream.

It was what she always ordered at Starbucks. He’d always had regular coffee, but she maintained that you could have regular coffee whenever you wanted, wherever you were, so when in Starbucks you should treat yourself.

And Billy knew.

And Billy even handed her the three packets of sugar she would need when her coffee came, smiling adoringly down at her.

And he felt nauseous.

They were married. They were living in Chicago… and maybe Maria had been scoping out a school for their kids the day before. And now they were on their way to the recording studio to record a duet that would be a world wide instant hit and earn them multiple Grammy’s.

He had to get out of there!

He abandoned his half finished steaming cup of coffee on the table and made a run for the door.

But right before he got there Maria suddenly turned for no reason at all and her green eyes locked onto his. And for a second they both froze.

And she read first the shock and then the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. Then she watched as they flicked to Billy and his mouth curled slightly in a self mocking, sardonic semi-smile that cut her to the core.

She stood rooted to the spot as he turned and fled out of the door.

And Billy turned to give her her coffee just in time to hear her whispering a name that sounded suspiciously like Michael.

-----------------

She didn’t take any heed of the hand reaching to offer her her drink. She didn’t care that her very old friend was calling her name and trying to get her attention. In fact at that moment, Billy Darden didn’t exist; the only other person in the world was Michael Guerin.

Michael Guerin who was a teacher.

Michael Guerin who lived in Chicago.

Michael Guerin her Spaceboy.

Michael Guerin who managed to be a stonewall and wear his heart on his sleeve, or maybe more accurately in his eyes, all at the same time.

Michael Guerin who had somehow managed, yet again, to walk out of the door with her broken heart in his hands.

After incessant calling Billy gave up and shook Maria’s shoulder.

“What?” She asked, in a strange mixture between dazed and irritated.

“I’ve got the coffee.” He said, in his most ‘no duh’ voice. “Shall we go to a table?” It was phrased as a question when it was in fact meant as, ‘Will you come and sit down already’ (perhaps with an accompanying eye roll). Or at least that was how Michael would have said it. Michael would have said what he meant. Billy didn’t do that.

And she realized all of a sudden that she didn’t want to be in a coffee shop with Billy. She wanted to be in a coffee shop with Michael. Michael who had seen her in a coffee shop with Billy. Michael who had looked hurt and betrayed… Michael who had seen her in a coffee shop with Billy.

It became rather obvious at that moment that she had somehow stumbled into the very problem she had tried so very hard to avoid by leaving that note to Mrs. Talbot about her goldfish. And she wished Billy hadn’t called her that day, only to be pleasantly surprised that they were both in Chicago on business. In fact she rather wished Billy had never left his wife in New York so that he could cause her trouble.

She turned to him with a determined look in her eyes and told him, rather abruptly and without so much as an apology, that she had to go.

Which was how Billy Darden landed up standing alone in a Starbucks in the middle of Chicago holding two steaming cups of coffee and wearing a rather resigned expression, while Maria Deluca, the girl who had for some reason always had some kind of hold over him with her vibrancy and her magic, just about sprinted down the street after a man who had long ago usurped him.

-----------------------

An hour and a half later found the very same once determined Maria, sitting on a park bench looking altogether forlorn.

She hadn’t been able to find him.

By the time she had followed after him he was nowhere to be seen on the street. And when she went to the school they told her he’d called in sick. And when she went to the food stand where she’d seen him buying a hotdog, he wasn’t there either. And the man selling the hotdogs told her he hadn’t seen him when she showed him the picture of Michael she still kept in her wallet.

And so she sat on the park bench, because she didn’t know what else she could do. And if there was anything else to do she didn’t have the energy left to do it.

And then someone quietly sat down beside her.

And the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

And for a second she didn’t move, as if she was afraid she was daydreaming and if she moved or spoke or even breathed the daydream would shatter.

And she squeezed her eyes tight shut and listened carefully… and she could just make out the sound of someone breathing next to her.

So she opened her eyes.

And then slowly… ever so slowly… she turned her head to face him.

And when her eyes met his her heart leaped.

“Hey Maria.” He said simply.

[Mac]

AN: Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this… and thank you so much to everyone who sent me feedback… xmag, spacegirl23, BobbyCB, Arianneleigh, stinebiene, RhondaAnn, nibbles2, Flamehair, crazysnape, tequathisy and twilight. You guys are stars!

Hopefully this actually works this time... as the darn server went on the fritz just as I was about to submit this chapter this afternoon, and I'm running out of patience!

Chapter 5: In the Park

There was nothing like a park to torment a man whose hopes and dreams of a family with the one he loved had just been shattered. Nothing quite like sitting devastated on a park bench watching mothers run around after their toddlers and lovers cuddle on blankets.

He wanted to cry. As unmanly and un-Michael as it would be, he wanted to cry… as if it would bring some relief, somehow lighten the ton weight that sat on his chest, or ease the lump that constricted his throat. But nothing would come. No tears would fall. And there would be no Maria to comfort him, to lead him to her bed and hold him until his tears were spent.

She belonged to somebody else. She wasn’t his Maria anymore.

And he couldn’t find the energy to pull himself up off the park bench he had fled to. So he sat with his head in his hands.

And he kept sitting, not knowing or caring how much time had passed.

Until he felt a strange familiar thrill and looked up to see Maria’s golden head on the other side of the park. And she looked so lost; looked just as lost as he felt. And he didn’t know why she looked so lost… didn’t even want to begin guessing; because he knew his mind could come up with a thousand wonderful and a thousand horrible ideas… but he needed to know. He wanted to be near her, even if it was just in the capacity of a friend. He wanted to help her. And he was tired of letting his fear get in his way.

He had outgrown that. He had done everything he had set out to do when he left Roswell… except to go back for her. And maybe he was too late, but he wanted to show her. Wanted her to see what he had done for himself and for her. And he wanted to show himself that he wasn’t afraid anymore. That he wasn’t going to run away like a scared little boy anymore.

So he walked across the park. It was easier than he thought it would be. Like he was drawn to her. And suddenly he was aware of how difficult it was to walk away from her… how every time he had it had been like fighting himself.

The quiet confidence he felt as he approached her was familiar. It was the confidence that he had learned and cultivated in the many years they’d spent apart… in the years he’d started believing he was worth something without having to hear it from her constantly.

He sat down beside her. And he could tell she was aware of him. And for a second she didn’t look at him. As if afraid… though he couldn’t tell what she was afraid of.

And then there eyes met. And he felt like he was 16 again. And yet a smile unintentionally pulled at the corners of his mouth, which of its own accord formed the words;

“Hey Maria.”

And when she heard them the corners of her mouth turned upwards too and her eyes started to look suspiciously glassy and she answered with a simple;

“Michael.” As if her world hung on that one word. He’d never loved his name quite as much as he did in that moment.

-----------------

She didn’t know what to say after the initial greeting. They just sat looking at each other and feeling like idiots. What were you supposed to say to span the gap that four years had created? How were you to begin to explain away the misunderstandings… and to describe how much you had changed? How did you find the courage to ask about his life, knowing you could have been replaced in his heart? How did you find the courage, beyond that, to tell him how much you missed him and loved him and ask him if he still loved you?

He was the one who eventually broke the awkward silence.

“How’ve you been Maria?” He asked. And you want to tell him you’ve been terrible without him, but the words stick in your throat and you don’t have the courage to say them.

“I’ve been alright… how about you?”

“I haven’t been too bad.” He replies and then you lapse back into awkward silence. And somehow the awkward silence is so much worse than the fighting ever was.

The second awkward attempt to start a conversation was on her side.

“I saw you at the school yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“Yeah… I have been for a year.” He says.

“Do you enjoy it?” She asks, wishing he would give her longer answers, or somehow make it easier on her.

“I love it.” He says simply. And it makes her smile because she can tell by the tone of his voice that he really does. And she’s proud of him… more proud than she’ll admit.

“That’s great Michael!”

“Thanks.” He replies and there is a faint blush on his cheeks, and a tiny pleased smile hovering at the corners of his lips. “What about you, what have you been up to since…?” He trails off awkwardly and the words go unspoken, though she can hear them as clearly as if he had said them. Since you left.

She starts babbling about work to mask the awkward moment but they both know what she’s doing, and Michael looks frustrated with himself… but he listens to every word she says with rapt attention.

It’s a new feeling. With him she’s used to trying to contend with the television or any number of other things for his attention. It was why… She wasn’t going to think about that now. He was there. He was listening to her. She was going to get everything she could out of this moment, because who knew if it would ever happen again. Who knew if she would ever see him again?

He surprised her with his next words.

“Do you want to come back to my place for lunch? I still make a pretty mean burger.”

“I have a lunch meeting but…” She started, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“Oh… okay.” He paused for a while and then seemed to steel himself before saying; “Well maybe you could come for dinner then?” She was silent for a second; she couldn’t quite believe this was happening to her. And then she realized that he might think she was hesitant to take him up on his offer and stuttered out a reply that seemed more like a question.

“Um… well I was going to say I can skip the meeting, but dinner’s great too?”

His face lit up and she was reminded of Brendan when he saw the top in Michael’s hand.

“Or I could just steal you for both.” He said and he was leading her to his car before she even had the chance to answer.

[Mac]

AN: Hi everyone, I’m sorry that this took such ages, but I hope you’ll forgive me! Thanks so much for your continuous support and encouragement… I know I would never have been motivated enough to write this part on my own, so to everyone who left feedback… you are wonderful, amazing and fantastic stars!

Thank you so much: nibbles2, crazysnape, spacegirl23, xmag, Flamehair, stinebiene, RhondaAnn, tequathisy, ken_r, maji343, Morgan8 and April!

I hope you all enjoy this part and now that I’ve got a little momentum going again I’ll try not to make you wait too long for the next part!

Chapter 6: Hope

Metallica blared from the speakers the minute Michael put the key in the ignition. Maria giggled. Maybe he hadn’t changed all that much after all! Michael looked at her with a smile in his eyes when he heard her laughter, and they pulled smoothly into the road that went past his school.

The drive to his apartment took no longer than five minutes. He could probably walk to school when he wanted to. Maybe he did in summer.

It was just a little bit sad to imagine him walking to school on his own. Was he lonely? Did he have friends here? A girlfriend? A wife?

He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

She noticed this with great relief after many furtive sideways glances at the strong hands that gripped the steering wheel.

His apartment building was nice. She’d somehow expected something a little more run down. A little more like his first apartment building.

She’d already started opening her car door when she found it opening of its own accord.

He’d run around the car to open it for her. She gaped like a fish for a second before regaining her senses.

This was the kind of thing that Max had always done for Liz. The kind of thing she had spent their early years wishing for; until she’d got it though her thick skull that she loved Michael for being Michael… and didn’t want him to be Max. Then she finally realized how much she loved getting a bumper for Christmas and two-in-one shampoo and conditioner and the fact that he cooked for her.

She irrationally wished he hadn’t opened the door for her; wished he would be the Michael she knew.

When his front door opened she was slightly dismayed to find the place so homey. Sure there were still some Metallica posters on the walls… but there was also a pot plant in the corner and furniture that matched and actual curtains. And the kitchen was spotless and there were a bunch of brightly coloured finger paintings on the fridge; held up by cheery magnates.

It was a home. Michael had made himself a home without her.

-----------------------------

When he reached his apartment building he jumped out of the car and ran around to open her door for her; remembering how much she had liked that kind of thing when they were younger. Her gob smacked expression was not wholly unexpected, but the sad look that took up residence on her face shortly thereafter most certainly was.

He felt a little of the confidence he’d mysteriously gained in the park dissipate. What had he done wrong? Had he somehow managed to mess this up already?

The short journey up the stairs to his front door seemed to be the most nerve wracking one Michael had ever made. He was horrendously conscious of every move he made and clamped his mouth shut in an effort to prevent himself from anything to further offend Maria. When they had finally reached his door and he had found the right key (with some difficulty), the confidence started to return as he happily remembered all the new additions he’d made to the place and how he’d made sure it was completely spotless.

He pushed the door open and walked through it, holding it in place so she could follow behind him… he’d decided he wouldn’t try to let her in before him for fear of receiving a similar reaction to the one he’d received during the car door incident. The hint of pride in his eyes died as she watched her face fall as she slowly surveyed his living space.

Heaven preserve him.

He walked away from her and into the kitchen, putting his keys down on the counter and trying to ignore the fact that she was standing just inside his doorway inspecting every object in sight as if it had personally offended her and still managing to look like a very lost little girl.

He began to wish that he hadn’t cleaned his kitchen quite so efficiently; as it stood he would look like an idiot wiping down the already gleaming counters, and there were no dishes to wash or clear away, and so there was nothing to do in the kitchen but twiddle his thumbs.

He reflexively pulled open the refrigerator; as if it contained all of life’s answers… Unfortunately inside it he found none of the answers he was looking for. But he did catch sight of a bottle of Snapple.

“Would you like something to drink?” He asked her, closing the fridge and seizing on this pathetic topic of conversation with great relief.

“No thanks.” She said faintly, still staring intently at his recently bought lounge suite.

“I have herbal tea if you’d like some.” He said hopefully.

She finally tore her eyes from the furniture to meet his. The expression in those very familiar green eyes was unreadable.

“No, I’m alright for now thank you.” She said primly.

He looked desperately back at the fridge. He opened it and pulled out a bottle of Snapple, rather wishing he could magically turn it into Vodka but grateful for something to do with his hands and mouth none the less.

The action for some reason seemed to reassure her because the lost look faded slightly from her face and by the time the bottle of Snapple was finished she was perched awkwardly on the edge of the couch.

Their conversation was slightly stilted. They talked about Max and Liz while he turned on the stove and fished for the right pan in the chaos of the cupboards below the counter. When he finally emerged, slightly red faced but with the pan in hand, she had a small knowing smile on her face.

While he worked on the patty’s they talked about Isabel’s kids. He looked up to find her eyeing his new pot plant suspiciously and belatedly realized he’d forgotten to peel the price tag and watering instructions off of the pot. For some unfathomable reason, judging by the expression on her face, Maria seemed to like the price tag. By the time the burger patty’s were cooking Maria had migrated from her seat in the lounge to one of the bar stools on the other side of the counter… and they had moved from the rather neutral topic of Isabel’s children to the slightly less neutral topic of his work.

From his position at the stove he had managed to covertly steal a few glances over his shoulder at the small hands that now rested on the countertop.

After six or seven glimpses of her bare ring finger he finally, and with great relief, allowed himself to believe that she was not married or engaged to Billy Darden or any other man.

Though right now he was quite convinced it would have made no difference whatsoever if she had been married, because he would have been quite happy to track down and assassinate her unfortunate husband for only the prospect of awkward conversations with her over (slightly burnt) hamburgers.

---------------------------

Her very self-pitying train of thought as she contemplated his home was broken when he offered her a drink. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his hated furniture when she answered him.

However her shock when he offered her herbal tea did manage to yank her gaze away.

He had herbal tea? Why would he have herbal tea? He didn’t drink herbal tea. She knew he didn’t drink herbal tea. He didn’t drink tea period. He drank coffee. He only drank coffee. And Snapple… he drank plenty of Snapple too. Who did he keep herbal tea for? A girlfriend? A lover? Some woman that wasn’t her and therefore should not be within ten miles of him?

She refused to acknowledge her own outrage and possessiveness.

She declined his offer rather tritely. She didn’t want some other woman’s tea, thank-you-very-much!

Her anger was halted when she heard the familiar sound of a glass bottle clinking as it was pulled out of the fridge, and the faint pop of a cap being unscrewed and the seal being broken. She looked up to see him drinking a bottle of Snapple in a manner that was eerily reminiscent of the way he had furiously guzzled down alcohol at that party in high school the one and only time he’d got drunk (that she knew of).

Something inside of her was reassured by the fact that he still drank Snapple. It was a small bit of familiarity to cling to… a tiny part of the Michael she knew right in front of her.

It gave her the courage to start up a conversation about Max and Liz that he seized upon and they both drew out for a rather unbearably long time in a valiant effort to save themselves from more awkward silence.

During their conversation he had ducked below the counter to retrieve a pan. After five minutes of clattering that made it obvious that his kitchen wasn’t quite as pristine as it seemed, Michael emerged from the fray victoriously clutching the correct pan. She smiled knowingly… he was still just as messy as he’d been before.

And yet his counters were spotless and there hadn’t been as much as a dirty knife in the sink…

When she had no more news to tell of Max and Liz, Michael deftly changed the topic to Isabel’s children. She was relating an amusing story about Isabel’s daughter, Hannah, when she caught sight of the sticky label that was still attached to his pot plant.

It was still perfectly in tact. The edges weren’t curling up, the ink wasn’t smudged, there wasn’t a speck of dirt on it. The price sticker still attached had a perfectly legible ‘sell by’ date on it. The date was two weeks from now.

The pot plant was brand new.

In fact he probably hadn’t even watered it yet.

And the kitchen was sparkling clean.

Had he…? Was it possible that he’d done all of this since they’d seen each other at his school?

Had he done this for her?

He’d had herbal tea. He had a new pot plant. His kitchen, and indeed every part of his apartment she could see was spotless… but his cupboards were as chaotic as ever which seemed to indicate that he hadn’t become naturally neat in their time apart.

A small hope that this was all for her flickered to life in her heart and gave her the courage to move closer to him; taking a seat at a bar stool at the counter and looking in on him in the kitchen.

And with each minute he fed her hope. She caught him stealing glances at her over his shoulder. Their conversation became a little less stilted as he began to talk about his work. And she began to recognize, more and more, little pieces of a very familiar and very beloved boy in the man that stood in front of her.

[Mac]

AN: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for all of your patience! Special thanks to those wonderful people who have put up with me thus far and left fantastic feedback: crazysnape, stinebiene, Flamehair, nibbles2, Arianneleigh, mrs_guerin, Morgan8, tequathisy, xmag, OliveMcKay and Wench On A Leash. You guys are fantastic and I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter 7: Misunderstandings

Michael sat relaxed at the kitchen counter, long forgotten empty plate pushed aside, listening to Maria recounting the story of an evening last month when she had been charged with the task of babysitting Isabel’s daughter Molly.

Her laughter fused with his and seemed to create a haven for them; a protective bubble of love and laughter and warmth where time and hurt and past mistakes didn’t exist. If he could choose a single night in all his life to relive, it would be this one.

She was different, there was no mistaking that. Dark smudges of pain and exhaustion stained the skin beneath her eyes, her face had lost some of its roundness, her conversation some of its openness and her countenance some of its vivacity. But she was the same at the same time; his Maria, albeit grown up and somewhat hidden beneath a tarnished surface he had no doubt contributed to creating.

Her story was finished and their laughter faded slowly around them. He watched her smiling into her dinner plate. She fiddled with a few left over chips, pushing them around her plate and making patterns in her ketchup. Her long lashes masked her eyes from him, but he knew that they were smiling too. And somehow he knew that smiling was something her eyes hadn’t been doing with much frequency lately.

She shook herself out of her daydream and looked up to catch him staring.

He felt his cheeks warm slightly but didn’t avert his eyes.

She smiled cheekily.

Her eyes took on a mischievous twinkle that he hadn’t seen in years, and suddenly he knew that he was in serious trouble… and he didn’t care. In fact he wouldn’t have it any other way.

She stood up.

Disappointment lanced through him. She was going to leave? He couldn’t have read her that badly, could he?

Instead of turning and leaving she leaned against the counter; giving him a great view of her cleavage. He determinedly fixed his eyes on her face.

She leaned forward.

Her hand reached out as if to touch his face.

His heart rate sped up. She was going to kiss him!

His eyes zeroed in on her mouth.

She was centimeters away from him when he saw her mouth forming the words: let me just take your plate.

His face burned slightly as he turned it to watch her hand grasping the plate that lay beside him.

Much to his disappointment, she then proceeded to unplaster herself from his counter in order to stand upright again.

As she righted herself he caught a glint from inside the v of her top as her chain swung momentarily forward.

And then she was walking around the counter and into the kitchen with a teasing smile glittering smugly on her face, carrying his plate and hers to the sink.

He smirked. She was still a tease. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually appreciated someone flirting with him.

He felt her coming up behind him.

“Thank you for lunch Michael.” She said. And then she bent and kissed his cheek. “It was great.”

He found himself still sitting numbly at the counter five minutes later grinning from ear to ear as she scrubbed bits of burnt hamburger from his pan.

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Maria scrubbed happily at Michaels pan, watching his refection in the window panes. He still hadn’t moved a muscle. Never had she enjoyed washing dishes quite this much. She hummed happily as she scrubbed.

“The picture of a happy housewife.” Michael remarked sardonically.

She jumped a little and turned to face him. He had swiveled on his stool to face her.

“Hardly.” She snorted. “I never really was the house wife-y type.”

“I beg to differ… here you stand happily humming along while you wash the dishes… it’s like something strait out of ‘Enchanted’.”

“You’ve watched Enchanted?” She asked, barely able to stop herself from giggling. Her glee only increased when she saw Michaels face turn a suspicious pink colour. She seemed to be inspiring this reaction rather a lot today!

“Molly dragged me to see it!” He defended. She felt her smile fading from her face.

“You’ve met Molly?” She asked… and she sounded more hurt and vulnerable than she’d intended.

He frowned slightly, and in his eyes she saw confusion and hesitance.

“Yeah, Jesse’s sister lives on the other side of town. Isabel, Jesse and the kids visit whenever they’re in town to see her.”

“Right.” She replied. She couldn’t explain this sudden hurt she was feeling… couldn’t understand why she suddenly felt like she needed to cry.

“Maria what’s…?” He began, the look on her face giving him the horrible idea that he had done something terribly wrong and she was about to flee from his presence.

“Where’s the bathroom?” She asked, cutting him off.

“It’s just down the passage, first door on the left.” He told her. She didn’t notice the uncertainty in his voice as she followed his directions.

In the bathroom she put the toilet seat down, sat on it, pulled her knees up to her chest and then buried her head in her knees.

Why did this hurt so much? Why did she feel so betrayed by this new knowledge? Why had she even persisted in stupidly believing that no one in Roswell had seen Michael since she had seen him last?

She felt like such an idiot! Of course Isabel had seen him! Max and Liz had probably seen him as well… they’d gone to Florida to see Liz’s aunt twice last year. Suddenly the surprising lack of photos from the second visit was unsurprising. Liz probably had hundreds of photos of Michael hidden in a box in her closet.

Her face scrunched and her lips compressed themselves into almost nothing in an effort to keep the tears at bay.

Why did this hurt so much?

They were his family too; of course they wanted to see him. Of course he’d wanted to see them.

He just hadn’t wanted to see her.

She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry!

Her vision was blurred now, and she dashed the heels of her hands against her eyes to try to clear them. Damnit! She would not cry!

She stumbled over to the sink and turned the taps on, then splashed her face with water. What was she supposed to do now? Was she supposed to sit through a dinner with him? Was she supposed to inflict herself on him for longer?

Oh Lord! She had flirted! She had actually thought he’d wanted her and she had flirted… blatantly, obviously flirted! She had made a complete fool of herself! She’d even kissed him!

No wonder he’d been sitting there like a stunned mullet! He hadn’t known what to do. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings. For heaven’s sake she had practically plastered herself across his kitchen counter, could she have been any more stupid? She didn’t think so! No wonder he’d been blushing… he had been embarrassed for her!

She couldn’t think of anything worse!

She wanted to die. She wanted to just sink right through the floor right now! She wanted to curl up in a ball in her apartment and go into complete hibernation!

But she wasn’t in her apartment, nor was she likely to spontaneously drop dead and or sink though the floor ala Harry Potter. She was unfortunately alive and whole and in his apartment with him between her and the exit and no magic wand in sight.

For a brief few seconds she considered making a run for it… quite literally.

Then she came to her senses and decided that she would not disgrace herself any further. She would do the adult thing! She would walk out of the bathroom looking suitably heartbreakingly beautiful and then she would lie like a lawyer caught stealing money from his firm. She would tell him that work had called, or she would tell him that she’d forgotten about a prior engagement… or she could tell him that Billy had called and desperately wanted to take her out to dinner; and then she could subtly drop in the fact that he was getting a divorce and had made it quite clear that he was interested in her.

She snorted at herself. She always had had the subtlety of a battering ram.

She took a look at herself and decided rather quickly that she would need a whole lot of work before she looked ‘heartbreaking’. In fact after seeing her reflection she would have happily accepted simply looking drab and normal, but drab and normal she most certainly was not. Instead she had red eyes with scary mascara smears radiating out from them in every direction and a nose that would have put a clown to shame.

Attractive! Very attractive!

She opened the cabinet above the sink in a desperate attempt to find something to clean herself up with. Instead what she found were rows upon rows of familiar little bottles neatly lined up next to shaving cream and spare toothpaste.

She didn’t understand.

For a while she just stood and stared completely uncomprehending. Then she reached out a hand and picked out a bottle, pulling off the cap and bringing it up to her nose.

The scent was too familiar. Her bathroom cabinet at home looked almost exactly like this… minus the shaving cream.

What did all this mean? She was tired of trying to figure it all out! She was tired of reading into all of his actions and having everything she found in them contradicted five minutes later. She was tired of all of this crap! Tired of the effect it was having on her!

And she was angry… oh boy was she angry! He had had her waiting for him for years, literally years while he was off in the big city getting on with his life without her! And now he just traipsed back into her life with his smiles and burnt burgers and mixed signals after all this time! Like hell he would… she wasn’t going to take this crap anymore!

She hurled the bottle of rosemary essence at the spotless white tiled wall. It shattered satisfyingly; the noise it made was painful and great! The smell was nearly overwhelming. Thick yellow-green oil splattered across the pristine bathroom.

She smiled in satisfaction and reached for two more.

----------------------------

He watched her retreating figure as she fled to the bathroom, her control a thin veil slipping rapidly from her grasp. He couldn’t begin to fathom what he’ done wrong but her ridiculously abrupt change in demeanor made it quite clear that he most certainly had done something.

He paced the hall outside the bathroom door.

Then he decided that he was being overbearing and that having her walk out to find him right outside the door probably wouldn’t better his situation.

He then commenced pacing in the lounge.

After five minutes he began to wonder how long it should take to go to the bathroom. He decided he’d give her another three minutes before he started to worry.

He counted Mississippi’s as he paced.

After four extra minutes he walked towards the foreboding looking bathroom door.

He would knock. He would just knock and ask if she was okay. He’d just make sure that she hadn’t passed out, or slipped, or in some way injured herself. And ‘are you alright’ was a broad question. Maybe she would give him some sort of indication of why she had fled to his bathroom in the first place.

He raised his fist to knock.

A loud shattering sound pierced the silence in the apartment.

Michael stood frozen in terror for a moment with gruesome pictures of Maria lying bleeding on his bathroom tiles running on slideshow through his head.

“Maria!”

He flung the bathroom door open, and then stood framed by the doorway watching as Maria flung tiny bottles of herbal remedies at his abused wall.

She wasn’t bleeding out on the floor, that was for sure.

[Mac]

Hi everyone!

Yes... I know... this is the second Authors Note I'm writing today... but after writing the first one I found out that I was nominated for an RFFA! Yay!! I'm currently on top of the world... this is all entirely new and entirely awesome, and all I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you to whoever it was that nominated me! You have absolutely no idea how much it means to me! And I get to post this beautiful and amazing banner thingy! Yay!



So yes... again... thank you! And if any of you would like to vote for me I would really love and appreciate it, if not, thats cool too! Just getting to post this completely made my week!