Michael, Maria, Carradine and Christmas
By: ArchAngel1973 & Xmag
Disclaimer: Characters and plot lines that appeared in the series, the books, and the concept of Roswell are not mine. Belong to Melinda Metz, UPN, etc, etc…
Pairing: M&M
Rating: Teen
Summary: Post-Graduation. A few years after leaving Roswell, Michael and Maria try to spend a familial Christmas.
Authors’ note: Banner by Caliina
Part 1
The scent of baking cookies wafted through the air and as the front door opened Christmas music could be heard playing on the stereo in the living room. The apartment was warm and cozy, and it had been their home for nearly a year. It was the longest they had stayed in any one place since leaving Roswell several years earlier, running from government agents bent on capturing them for study followed by extermination. The place looked like a hurricane had blown through while he had been away at work and as he turned to hang his coat up the woman responsible for the mess suddenly appeared and threw her arms around his neck.
Michael Guerin aimed for the coat rack three times before giving up and dropping his coat on the floor in favor of wrapping his arms around his wife and kissing her thoroughly. He had only been away for a little over eight hours but it felt like it had been days since he had last held her and kissed her. He leaned back and reached up to wipe the flour smudged across her right cheek as he smirked at her.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he said with a nod towards the mess behind him.
“Carey and I were moving things around and trying to decide where the tree should go.” Maria changed the subject in hopes of distracting him from that topic. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Uh-huh, you don’t need to be movin’ furniture around by yourself; I told you I’d get to it this weekend.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I am perfectly capable of moving the living room furniture, Michael, and you’ve got a busy weekend ahead of you, so you should be thanking me.”
He opened his mouth to protest but paused when a rousing rendition of Jingle Bells started to play and he groaned. “You were supposed to lose that damn CD, Maria.” He cringed when the high-pitched voices of Alvin and the Chipmunks began to sing along with the music and moments later another voice joined them, singing loudly and off-key.
“The words are repetitive and it’s the only song he knows.”
“Daddy!”
Maria bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression under control when their four-year-old entered the room and realized Michael was home.
“He’s learnin’ a new song this weekend; that’s priority number one,” he growled, leaning down to scoop the little boy up in his arms just before he collided with Michael’s legs. “What’d you do today, little man?”
Maria bent over to pick up Michael’s coat from the floor, holding it in her arms as she turned around to watch her husband and son discuss the days’ events. She wondered what her mother would say if she could see them; Amy had liked Michael and he had proven himself to her, but they had left without a word and she had no idea what the woman really thought about him now.
Her mother knew that they were married now and that she had a grandchild courtesy of Isabel and her abilities on the dream plane, but Amy had never met Carradine. There was still too much at stake and they couldn’t risk contact with anyone in Roswell. Even now, after more than a year without any sign that they were being followed they still kept more than a thousand miles between them and the others in the group. There had been too many close calls and they were all wary of doing anything that might put them at risk again.
A wave of homesickness and sadness washed over her as her thoughts shifted to her mother and she wondered what she was doing for Christmas this year.
Michael glanced up from the colored picture his son was showing him when he felt the prickling sensation at the back of his neck that warned him when something wasn’t right with Maria. He patted the boy on the head and told him to color another picture as he stood up.
“Mama’s sad?”
He looked down at Carradine, amazed once again at his little boy’s perceptive abilities. “She just misses Grandma, buddy. I’ll be right back.”
“’Kay, Daddy.” He watched his parents as they talked quietly for several minutes and then shrugged to himself and went back to his coloring book when they hugged. They did that a lot and that meant that everything was gonna be okay. He frowned down at the blue crayon in his hand when he pressed too hard and the tip broke off. He stared at it for a while before he smiled and ran his left index over it so that it formed a new point.
“What’re you doin’?” Michael asked as he sat down on the couch, his long legs bracketing his son’s body where he was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table.
“It was broked,” Carradine said, turning to meet his father’s gaze. “It’s jus’ you an Mama.”
The boy looked just like him and he easily recognized the defiant look in the dark brown eyes Carradine had inherited from him. His features and wild hair weren’t the only things the boy had inherited; he also had some of his father’s alien abilities, but so far they had been able to keep them in check. As soon as he had exhibited his abilities, Michael and Maria had decided that they weren’t going to try to gloss it over or try to pretend that they didn’t exist. He hadn’t had anyone to teach him how to use his powers when he was growing up and as a result he’d had very poor control over them as he had gotten older.
The knowledge that their abilities needed to be kept secret seemed to be ingrained into the boy’s genetic memory and they didn’t know if that was intentional or a by-product, but so far he had shown a clear understanding of the necessity for secrecy. He was still too young to master things that were very complicated, but he had obviously learned something new because this was the first time Michael had seen him do the thing with the crayon.
He leaned over and picked up another crayon, using his thumb to snap the tip off before handing it to the boy. “Do that again,” he said, motioning to the crayon Carradine had repaired just minutes before. “Show me how you did that.”
Maria watched the two of them through the opening over the counter between the kitchen and the living room as she put the finishing touches on dinner. She had spent countless hours watching them interact, touched by the patience Michael exhibited when explaining and teaching their son different things, and so proud of the man he had become. At the moment Carradine was showing his father how to fix a broken crayon, beaming happily when Michael praised his newest accomplishment.
She had been terrified the first time they had realized that he had inherited his father’s abilities, concerned that it was only going to put her family more at risk than they already were, but Michael had helped to quiet her fears. The thought of losing either of them was more than she could bear, but it wasn’t something that consumed her thoughts the way it had after discovering that Carradine had inherited his father’s abilities.
“Hey, did Carey get in trouble for somethin’ today?” Michael asked as he stepped into the kitchen a while later.
Maria hid a smile. She had known it wouldn’t take long for him to figure out that something was up. “Why do you ask?”
“He’s hedgin’ about his day instead of givin’ me the usual run-on commentary.”
She chuckled and slapped his hand away when he reached around her to steal a corner off of the roast she had just pulled out of the oven. “He just proved once again that he is definitely your child.”
“Yeah?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Uh-huh. We ran to the store and he decided to go and investigate when he heard the announcement that Santa Claus was in the store.”
Michael’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “He actually sat on the old guy’s knee and told him what he wants for Christmas?”
“Oh, no, no, no, it was nothing like that. He hung back and studied Santa just like he does every time we see one and after, I don’t know, ten minutes or so, he declared – quite loudly – that the old guy was a fake.” She turned her head to glare at her husband when he laughed. “Not funny, Michael.”
“What?”
“This is your fault, y’know.” She moved to get something down from a cabinet and motioned for him to get out of her way. “He inherited that suspicious streak from you. Every time we go to a store he stands back and watches until he can find a reason to identify Santa as a fake.”
“Hell, Maria, it’s not like he’s the first little kid to denounce Santa Claus in public.”
“No, but he may very well be the first one to have snatched the old man’s beard off when Santa invited him to tug on it to prove it was real.”
Michael leaned forward and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth when he laughed and choked on his drink. He nodded at his wife when she thrust a handful of napkins in his hand as she walked past him again.
“Um-hmm, it was a real riot; children were screaming and crying, parents were trying to calm them down while shooting evil looks at me, and your son was just standing there, calmly taking it all in and studying the spoils of his war on Santa Claus.”
He grinned. Carradine was always his when he’d gotten into trouble.
“Needless to say, we won’t be shopping at the corner market anymore.”
“Because he yanked some phony Santa’s beard off?”
“No, because the store manager asked me to leave and not come back since my child was too disruptive.” She set the plates around the table and frowned at him when she turned back around and caught him smirking at her. “What?”
“Tell me the rest of the story.” He knew there was more; she had probably told the guy off for saying anything negative about Carradine. “That’s okay, I’ll find out one way or the other.” He nodded when she just rolled her eyes and walked to the refrigerator to get a glass of milk for their son. He leaned on the counter and cleared his throat to get the little boy’s attention. “Hey, Carey, what’d Mama say to the man at the store today?”
Carradine looked up from his coloring book and frowned in concentration. “The mean one that yelled?”
A quick glance at Maria gave him confirmation and he nodded. “Yup, that’s the one. What’d she say to him?”
He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Mama made me cover my ears ‘fore she said somethin’ to him.” The boy sighed loudly and stared down at the crayon in his hand. “Am I in trouble now?”
“Not this time, buddy, but we’re gonna talk about it after dinner.” He hid a grin when Carradine exhaled loudly, obviously relieved. “Rippin’ off Santa’s beard,” he muttered as he shifted to lean back against the counter and slouched down to rest his weight on his left elbow. “You tell the store manager off – and don’t even deny it because we both know you did – and I’ve gotta come up with a reasonable explanation for the fake Santa.” He groaned and scrubbed his right hand over his face. “You got off easy on this one.”
“Next time, you take the mob of angry parents.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words as she nudged him. “Go wash up for dinner.”