Roswell Fanatics

Title: A Taste of Honey
Author: Eve Black
Email: justalittlepolar@yahoo.com
Pairing: Michael/Liz
Rating: ADULT
Spoilers: Up through Independence Day.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Roswell or any of its characters.
Summary: Michael did leave during Independence Day, but he forgot to tell someone goodbye.
Author’s Note: This fic is an exorcism for me, releasing the demons if you will. I have some issues with Max and his role in Liz’s life; this is my look into their relationship and the ‘force’ Max is exerting on Liz. His gift may have been selfless, but over time it became his crutch, his power over the woman whose heart he would never hold.
Song Mention: Lyrics included in this fic come from A Taste of Honey by The Temptations. No infringement intended.

~*~

Thunder cracked and roared, the noise deafening in the dreary night, the sound sending tremors through her body. She should have been at home, sleeping, dreaming of the future, but she wasn’t. Instead, she was forcing her way blindly through the rain, searching, seeking, desperately trying to find Michael.

The rain beat down upon the windshield of the car as she drove down the lonely stretch of highway, the wiper blades a feeble defense against the pounding water. It was dark and desolate outside, the storm angry and unforgiving to the few poor souls who had ventured into its midst.

Very fitting, she thought. Even nature despised his leaving.

What was she doing? She didn’t know, hadn’t known when she taken her parents’ car. All she did know was that she needed to see him one last time. She needed to tell him goodbye, needed him to know how much he had come to mean to her.

He’d taken off in the middle of the night, that much Max had told her. Michael hadn’t been able to stay any longer, not since Hank had left him. Roswell was just one town in a long line of them; it held nothing special, nothing important. He had no family, no home, and none of the answers he’d sought after all of his life. He needed the journey, needed the time alone, needed to find himself.

Michael’s trip was his own; she would not keep him from it. He needed answers, purpose, and if he thought he could find that in his travels, she could not stop him. If she had courage and fortitude of her own, she would have taken off on her own quest long before. No, she could not deny him the cravings of his soul, not like she was blatantly ignoring hers.

That day Max had removed a slug from her stomach was the day she’d ceased living for herself. She’d become part of something larger; she’d become the rock that held Max to the Earth. He needed her there, holding his hand, offering her thoughts, serving as his lifeline. She’d had her chance at a life of her own, that time was over—it was in the past.

Even if she and Max weren’t together, she couldn’t leave him. He’d given up so much to keep her safe and alive; the least she could offer in return was her self—mind, soul, and body. She physically cringed at that thought; she was prostituting herself for a choice she had not made. Life was cruel, but without Max, she would not have it any longer.

The goals, ambitions, and dreams she’d had all of her life no longer held meaning. She’d once wanted nothing more than to leave Roswell, to go to Harvard, to become a molecular biologist; now all she wanted was to get through the day. The future didn’t matter, not when she’d lost her identity. Any free will she’d had disappeared that day Max played God.

Whether Max was aware of it or not, he’d purchased her life with a wave of his hands. It was a contract forged out of love, but one that she had grown to hate. She no longer lived on her own; she existed, drifting from one day to another at the whim of her dark-haired savior.

She envied Michael, was jealous of the freedom he still possessed. He was lost, in need of answers, and he was going after them with all his being. Michael was living the life that she so desperately wanted but could not have. He was not beholden to Max; he did not owe his life to another, not like she did.

There could be escape for her, but she knew she would not take it. The force that Max exerted upon her was powerful and she was too weak to break the spell. He had bound her to him in that one moment, had ensnarled her life with his. She would not leave, could not leave; she was trapped in a web of her own making. In her heart, she knew the steps she needed to take, but she’d stopped listening to it a long time ago.

A thin ribbon of lightning snaked across the sky, the pitch-darkness momentarily illuminated in its wake. She blinked at the sudden intrusion, at the immediate clarity that came with the dazzling bolt of white, her eyes easily picking out the slim figure in the distance. Her breath caught in her throat; she’d know him anywhere.

She slowed the car to a crawl as she pulled up alongside Michael, not wanting to startle him. He spared one glance at the vehicle before trudging on, his feet never once pausing in their journey. Michael was tired, soaked, and clearly did not want her aid; he failed to realize that he didn’t have a choice.

Grunting in frustration, she brought the car to a stop and climbed out into the downpour. Michael picked up his pace, but she was determined and there was nothing he could do to deter her. He would succumb to her pleas; she expected no less from him.

Hurrying around the front of the car, she stepped directly in Michael’s path. He paused at her intrusion, his body halting before her, the tendons in his jaw tensing as his teeth ground together. This was the Michael she knew. This was the proud, angry man that she’d come to admire over the years. This was the man that she loved.

Yes, loved. Cool, subdued, doe-eyed Max with his promises of forever did not hold her heart. Hot, passionate Michael did and always would. He was the unknown, the path rarely taken. He was living, breathing, struggling on his own. He was life, not merely existing.

The wet ends of her hair stung her cheeks as the wind slapped them against her skin, but she held her ground, unable to back down to the elements or Michael’s steely gaze. “Get in the car,” she stated, her voice little more than a whisper in the roar of the night.

Michael stood there, stoic, defiant, unwilling to bend to her commands. She squared off with him, her tiny hands gripping tightly at her hips. She barely felt the driving rain as it pounded into her body, or the cold, wet caress of clothes drenched by the storm. Instead she felt the burn of rage welling up inside of her, threatening to spill over. He’d left without saying goodbye…

“Get in the car now,” she ordered, her tone brooking no room for argument.

Hesitant, wary, Michael caught her eyes, his amber gaze a swirl of confusion. His body slumped as he met the determination and ire she reflected back at him. Wordlessly he turned to the vehicle and climbed inside.

~*~

<center>Winds may blow over the icy sea
I'll take with me the warmth of thee
A taste of honey
A taste much sweeter than wine</center>

~*~

The snick of the door closing reverberated through the room, loud in the near silence. Her hands quaked as she drew the chain into position, her fingers mechanically throwing the lock before her body turned to face the only other occupant. Michael…

Michael stood where she had left him, his arms stiff at his sides, his duffel poised at his feet. He’d offered no protests when she’d pulled into the out of the way hotel. He’d made no noise when she’d checked in at the lobby. He’d said nothing as she propelled him from the car into the room they would be sharing for the night. He’d followed her without question or complaint.

It was strange and beguiling, his simple acquiescence. She hadn’t expected Michael to be so docile to her silent pleas. He wasn’t the type of man to give in so easily…yet here he was.

Weak light filtered in through the lone window in the room, the heavy layer of grime not inhibiting her perusal of Michael. Her eyes raked over his body, taking in the waterlogged clothing and matted hair. She had no clue as to how long he’d been stranded in the rain or how long he’d been exposed to the elements. Too long, she guessed. His cheeks and hands were pale from the cold bite of the frigid air outside, the slightest trembling infecting his body.

“You need to get out of those clothes,” she told Michael firmly. Her eyebrows arched as she dared him to contradict her command.

He seemed to stare at her, past her, his ears unhearing. He remained stiff, unmoved, ignorant of her order.

She sighed and took a step back, her fingers curling around the cord that held the curtains open. With a gentle tug, the room was pitched into darkness, the faintest trace of light illuminating the glittering hazel of Michael’s eyes. She turned back to him, freeing the braided weight of the curtains’ release.

“I said,” she continued gruffly, “‘you need to get out of those clothes.’”

When Michael again made no move to relieve his body of the drenched garments, she edged closer. Her hands acted on their own volition, rising to push the tattered leather jacket from his shoulders. Fingertips trailed over damp cotton as she drew the coat away from his body to fall heavily to the carpeted flooring. He made no movement to help her, his sharp intake of breath the only inclination that he was aware of her actions.

She peered up at him, meeting his hooded gaze with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. Irises the color of whiskey stared back at her, the tempest of emotions swirling in them difficult to watch. Michael was there in those eyes. He was lost, alone, confused, his mind riddled with half formed thoughts and questions.

Michael’s body shook as she hooked her fingers into the wet fabric of his T-shirt, his eyes shuttering as her warm hands brushed over his chilled flesh. Slowly she pulled the fabric up his body, her palms pressing lightly into the muscles of his waist, his abdomen, his chest. His arms rose automatically when she reached the hard planes of his shoulders, her fingertips lithely working to free the cotton from his body.

The T-shirt slipped from her hands as she relaxed her grip, the dark cotton falling forgotten to the floor. A shocked gasp escaped Michael’s throat as she brought her hands back to his arms, her fingers kneading warmth into the frozen flesh. His body relaxed into hers as she became anxious…tense, as she worked life back into his deadened limbs. Her body was growing hot with desire and need, his calming with her offerings of touch and security.

It was as if he knew her, trusted her, and was giving himself over to her hands. The knowledge was heady and her mind warred with the urge to exploit such blind confidence. She craved the feel of Michael, and knew this might be her only chance to touch him, to hold him, to invite him within her body.

For one night with Michael, she would betray everything she owed Max.

For one night with Michael, she would forfeit what remained of her soul.

Palms slid over cool flesh, up arms, across toned shoulders. Hands worked into tense muscles, over the smooth expanse of chest, down the faint rippling of abdomen. Fingers flexed and curled, slipping under damp denim, releasing the hard catch of brass. The zipper purred as she pulled it down, the rough pads of her fingertips snaking inside to caress furred flesh.

Her hands pushed aside the rough material, sinking further inside, lightly tracing over the corded muscles of Michael’s thighs. Fingers slid along his skin as she circled his hips, the tips brushing against the rounded globes of his ass. Denim bunched around her wrists as she pushed it downwards, the wet garment pooling at his feet as she lowered herself towards the floor.

Kneeling before him, she lifted a boot-clad foot off the ground and pulled the bulky shoe from his body. She dropped it beside her without a thought, already releasing the other foot from its confining leather. Her fingers trailed over the downy softness of his calves as she once again captured the crumpled jeans, drawing them completely off his body. He stepped aside at her gentle urging, his body fully bared for her to see.

Large, tanned feet met her gaze as she stared at him, memorizing each dip and curve of Michael’s muscled flesh. Her eyes scanned up his body, the brown irises wide and shining as they traced up his calves, his knees, his thighs. She skimmed over the soft, dark curls at his groin, suddenly timid in her perusal. Michael’s nakedness was an intimacy she’d never thought possible; her body quaked in anticipation.

Carefully she climbed to her feet, her hands cradling Michael’s hips for support as she stood. His body jerked at her touch, edging unconsciously closer to hers. She reveled at the motion, her body beginning to glow deep within, a fire lighting in her soul. Sucking in a deep breath, she clasped his hand and led him towards the far doorway. He followed wordlessly.

Stepping inside the tiny room, she closed the door behind them and dropped Michael’s hand. His eyes watched her solemnly, narrowing in thought as she turned the small knobs in the bathtub and brought the shower to life. Hot water spilled from the tap, steam filling the room almost instantly, a searing, wet kiss in the chilly air.

Turning back towards Michael, she shrugged out of the coat that hung on her shoulders, the coarse material falling limply to the floor. His eyes widened at the clothes she wore, the flimsy nightgown barely covering her body. She hadn’t taken the effort to change, she hadn’t even bothered with shoes; she’d known that time was not on her side. Every minute, every second mattered; she hadn’t wanted to waste them.

Her tiny hands captured the thin straps of her sleepwear, pushing them off her shoulders. The scant fabric floated towards her feet, catching on the wide berth of her hips. Her fingers drifted down her sides, snagging the satiny material and dragging it from her body. She stood before Michael as bare as he. Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his.

Tension had returned to Michael’s shoulders, to his face. His arms lay at his sides, stiff and unrelenting, his fists gripped until the knuckles shone white. The tendons in his neck and jaw flexed and strained, his throat convulsing as he tried to swallow. He stood at attention, his stance military straight as he struggled for control over his body, over the swelling of his desire.

Eyes sealed closed as temptation appeared to rage through Michael, his nostrils flaring as his breath quickened. She smiled at his restraint, at his attempt to be the gentleman, to protect her virtue. He need not have bothered; she was not in danger of him.

“Michael,” she whispered, snaring one of his hands with hers. “Come.”

His eyes flew open, the raw emotion shining in his hazel orbs weakening her resolve. In them, she saw his need, his desire, his hunger. In them, she saw that Michael wanted to be loved, to be cherished, to be the man he saw reflecting in her eyes, but he held doubt, insecurities. With that one look, she knew that he wanted her, had wanted her for an eternity. With that one look, she knew his heart, his mind, his soul; he loved her as she did him.

“Come,” she repeated, tugging lightly on his hand.

Cautiously she stepped backwards into the tub, Michael following her mutely. His eyes never left hers as he walked forwards; they never blinked, never looked away. Her heart pounded as she realized he was there, with her, baring his uncertainty to her naked gaze.

“Why are you here?” he asked hoarsely, stopping before she could pull him into the shower.

A small, sad smile curved to her mouth as she raised a hand to trace the fullness of his lips. Why was she there?

“I wanted to tell you goodbye,” she admitted softly. “I wanted to tell you goodbye.”

“This…I didn’t expect this,” Michael muttered, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. “I…I don’t…”

She cut him off. “Hush,” she murmured, tilting her head to press her lips to his forehead. “I want to be here. I want this…you.”

“What about Max?” he questioned, the sad inflection of his voice not escaping her notice.

“Hush,” she repeated. “I’m here. There’s no Max. There’s only you and me. No one else.”

“Come,” she stated again, stepping backwards into the stream of water.

Michael blinked, his eyes glazing slightly as he sucked in a shaky breath of air. His head nodded, his resolve tentative but set; he slowly lifted his leg and entered the bathtub.

She retreated, stepping further into the shower, allowing Michael more space, pulling the curtain closed behind him. His face stared down at her, at the water cascading off her shoulders, at the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her body warmed at his gaze, at the burning embers she found in his eyes. His eyes seemed to plead with her, as if he thought he was asking her for more than she was willing to give. She could tell he needed her—the touch of her hands, the heat of her body, the feel of her love. She was his, if only for a night.

Hands remained motionless and idle at his sides, Michael apparently unwilling to take the first step, to continue what she had started. She knew his fear, knew that tonight was uncharted territory for each of them; she knew his awe, his wonder. It was a moment out of time, a chance event, something unlikely to be repeated. It was their night; there was no room for pause or doubt.

Slow and steady, she reached for Michael, cradling his arms with her hands. She spun them in a circle, her body brushing lightly against his as she directed him into the spray. Her nipples tightened as they rubbed against smooth flesh, her breath quickening as her hip encountered the hard length of his arousal. Michael trembled beneath her palms, his body pressing more firmly into hers.

“L…” he began, his lips whispering against her forehead.

“Hush,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear her name from his mouth. It wasn’t hers…not anymore.

Michael nodded, his breath caressing the exposed skin of her neck. A tear escaped his eye as she peered into his hazel gaze. Sadness for him, for her, for what was never meant to be. She knew he understood, knew the risks they were both taking with their hearts, knew that she would return to Max in the morning.

“We have tonight,” she whispered, her own tears threatening to fall.

“And if that’s not enough?” Michael responded, his voice ladened with emotion.

She closed her eyes, not answering his question. One night would never be enough, but it would do. It was all she had, it was all she was capable of providing. Her life was not her own; it was not for her to give away.

A shuddering sigh left Michael’s lips at her silence, his mind seemingly acknowledging her unspoken admission. She smiled weakly at him, her lips parting slightly as she released a shaky breath of air. “We have tonight.”

His head tilted, bending to capture her mouth, and she angled away, pressing a firm hand to the center of his chest. He looked down at her, the confusion evident in his startled gaze. His eyes were a mask of fear and pain, his rejection palpable. She studied him, not moving, not backing away, simply letting her love shine in her eyes. Michael sighed, his body relaxing, his eyes fluttering closed.

The hand poised over Michael’s heart slid down his torso, gently stroking over a muscular thigh before leaving his body. She grasped the small bar of soap resting on the side of the tub, her fingers tearing into the package. His eyes snapped open at the stiff crackle of paper, the hazel orbs watching her every movement.

The wrapping fell from her fingers as she freed the tiny bar of soap, the white paper disappearing behind the sheet of opaque plastic. Michael stared at her hands, at the tiny fingers working the soap into a foamy lather. She slowed her movements, gently caressing the slick bar until frothy white bubbles covered her hands.

Michael purred as she brought her hands to his chest, her slippery digits sliding over his smooth skin. Her fingers kneaded, caressed, explored, the sensitive tips delighting in the firm muscle and warm flesh beneath them. She delved lower, her thumbs grazing the hardened buds of his nipples, his body jerking at the intimate touch. The pads of her fingers trailed even further, tracing the curve of his ribs, rubbing circles across his abdomen.

He gasped, his stomach sucking in reflexively as she brushed over the tender skin. His hands flew out to grip her hips, pulling her more closely to his body. She shivered against him, her chest sliding easily along his. Their bodies moved against each other, the slick wetness separating them creating an erotic trill deep within her groin. She burned for Michael, throbbed for his touch, ached for his release.

Soap covered her breasts as she pulled away, the rosy tips slick with tiny, iridescent bubbles. They groaned at her withdrawal, both reluctant to be apart, each needing the contact, the intimacy. She watched Michael eye the coated nipples, his tongue sneaking out to wet parched lips. His fingers twitched at her hips, gripping almost painfully as he restrained himself.

She stepped back, motioning for him to turn with a flick of her wrist. A fine tremor quaked through his body as he obeyed, his hands unwillingly releasing her from his grasp. She drew closer, her palms rising to caress the hard planes of his back. Her fingers traveled higher, cupping the tense muscles of his shoulders, working down the corded strength of his arms.

Their fingers meshed when she reached Michael’s hands, his larger ones twining with her smaller digits. Their hands mated, sliding over each other, his thumb rubbing delicious circles against her fleshy palm. She sighed, her body draping weakly across his back, her breath panting heavily against his skin.

She slid to her knees, Michael’s hands releasing her as she drifted lower. A riot of sensation exploded across her body at the friction of his skin gliding along hers; her nerve endings trembled and quaked under the assault.

Limply she dropped to the bathtub floor, her hands grasping desperately to the tight muscles of Michael’s thighs. His body bucked as she pulled herself higher, her slick fingers settling onto hypersensitive flesh. She worked the soap into his skin, cleansing away the cold, the dirt, the uncertainty. She cupped his fleshy rear end, her fingers rubbing the taut muscle.

Arms encircled his waist, the tips of her fingers tangling in the coarse curls they found. Michael’s body shuddered, the stiffness of his erection bumping against her probing hands. She dipped lower, cradling the warm firmness of his testicles, gently massaging the tightening orbs.

A strangled gasp exploded from Michael’s mouth as she released his balls, her fingers immediately finding the hard flesh of his sex. She grasped it lightly, her soapy hands sliding over his turgid member, teasing the soft tip. His erection twitched as she tightened her grip, the added friction causing his knees to tremble.

Michael swayed, his entire body quaking in her arms, the curve of her chest pressing into his legs the only barrier preventing him from tumbling to the floor. She pumped her hands over him, her head resting against the line of his hip, her teeth gently nipping at his flesh. He panted above her, his arms reaching backwards to thread into her hair.

He tensed, his hold becoming painful as he began to thrust into the circle of her hands. Her body rocked with his, the tips of her breasts grinding against the hard muscle of his thigh. She quickened the movement of her palms, his body driving harder, faster into her embrace. Michael jerked, his body stilling as a ragged scream flew from his lips.

Placing a kiss to the hip she had scored with her teeth, she found her feet and stood behind him. Her hands gently washed sticky fluid from his sex, from her palms then slid up his chest to hold him to her. Michael trembled in the circle of her arms, his hands rising to clutch her more closely to him.

“Thank you,” he muttered breathlessly, his chest heaving beneath her fingertips.

She nodded into his back, words not forthcoming in the aftermath of his release. Michael spun in her arms, his hands coming to rest tenderly at the small of her back. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and inhaled deeply. Pushing him slightly away, she rinsed their bodies then shut off the tap, his eyes locked firmly with hers the entire time.

White, billowing clouds of steam filled the shower when she pulled the curtain aside, obscuring her vision. She reached blindly for the pile of towels, wrapping one tightly around her body before grabbing another. His chest rumbled as she pressed the fluffy cotton to his body, the solely masculine purr causing shivers to race through her veins.

Anxiously she rubbed at the droplets of water glistening on his chest, absorbing them into the towel. Her hands moved fluidly over his flesh, caressing areas sensitive to her touch. Michael growled as she brushed over a nipple, his hands lurching to catch her wrists in one quick movement.

Her eyes flicked up to his, to the desire burning deep within the green flecked brown. His grip relaxed and she ensnared his hand, abandoning the towel to the floor. Staring into his eyes, she carefully eased the door open and backed into the bedroom pulling him with her.

The towel fell from her body as she pushed Michael onto the bed. She crawled up beside him, her body perpendicular to his. Michael opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips, halting his words. There would be no talking; there would be no regrets. The night was for lovers; she would tell him goodbye the only way she knew how. She would give him the one thing she would not let Max take from her.

Slowly her face drifted closer to his, her mouth pressing whisper light to the softness of his crimson lips. Michael sighed into the kiss, his lips parting as her tongue slipped between them to twine with the velvety roughness of his. She stroked his tongue with soft, tentative motions, urging it into her mouth, sucking on the roughened muscle.

Teeth grazed her lips, Michael’s gentle bite easing a moan of pleasure from deep in her chest. She opened herself to him, his tongue entering the soft recess of her mouth, tracing over the tender flesh he found there. They mated smoothly, languidly; there was no urgency, no rush. They had all the time in the world to cherish each other; they had all the time in the world to show their love.

The rough pads of Michael’s fingers slid up her spine, the tips feather light as they coaxed a whimper from her lips. Her body curled towards him, her sex pressing insistently against the strength of his muscles. She rolled into him, throwing a leg across his hips. He rocked up into the weight pushing down on his groin, his stiffening arousal grinding into the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Warmth seeped into her skin at the contact of hard flesh, her eyes sliding shut at the feel of Michael’s fervor for her. She groaned, her mouth closing more adamantly over his. Energy swelled between them, the air charging with electricity as she ground her lips into his. She implored him, commanded him to respond, to show her his deepest desires, his darkest secrets.

Michael growled, his mouth slanting, opening wider, swallowing her fears, her worries, accepting the love she was giving him. His hands crawled up her back, holding her head forcefully to his, urging her more completely onto his prone form. She moved with him, her body settling over his, her thighs trapping his hips to the mattress.

She pressed into Michael, his erection hard and demanding against her nether lips. Her body throbbed with sensation, liquid heat pooling in her core. Hot steel rocked into her body, the power of his hips driving against the nub of her sex. She needed Michael, needed to have him in her body.

Her head flew back, breaking the relentless mating of their mouths. She hissed as Michael’s hands abandoned her hair, snaking around her shoulders to cup the roundness of her breasts. Large fingers pinched her nipples carefully, harshly, bordering on painful. She screamed, her voice loud and shrill as tremors began to quake through her body.

Fingers danced over taut skin, her hands frantically reaching out to Michael, seeking his body to anchor her to the earth. Her nails dug into the expanse of his shoulders, slicing through the flesh, drawing a startled grunt from the mouth of her lover. She snapped her eyes open, her vision clouded by ecstasy and desire; she never wanted to leave this behind, to leave Michael.

Chocolate eyes met hazel, Michael’s irises darkening to the deepest of blacks under her gaze. His hips jerked into her and she writhed against him, the tip of his arousal grazing her small bundle of nerves. A smile twisted to her face as she raised her body off of his, one hand snaking down to grasp his sex.

Teasingly she brushed him across her slit, smearing the reddened tip with the wetness of her arousal. His lips curved into a snarl as she held him firmly in her grip, just shy of sinking onto his shaft. Hands moved, clutched at her hips, the slightest of pressures encouraging her downwards.

The head of his penis entered her body, pressing through the tight ring of her sex. They shuddered at the contact, at the intimate joining, her muscles spasmed around Michael, squeezing him tightly. He groaned, his hips twitching ever so slightly beneath her. Slowly she eased his arousal inside, the walls of her core welcoming the rigid glide of man.

Panting, breathless, she released the grip of her hand, permitting his length to slide fully into her flesh. She groaned as Michael’s tip pressed against the proof of her virginity, his body gently prodding against the barrier. Her eyes frantically searched out his as he still underneath her hips, pausing at the pain he would be bringing her.

She met his intense stare and smiled, a happy smile. Her hand rose to caress his cheek, his forehead, her fingers easing the worry lines from his features. She bent over him, her lips pressing reassuringly to his tense mouth. He opened for her, his body relaxing as she poured herself into him, laid her soul bare for him to see.

Images flooded her mind, glimpses from earlier times and better days. Need, acceptance, desire, lust. Hate, fear, anger, neglect. Hope, light, serenity, love. He was beautiful, inside and out. Michael loved her, had loved her for as long as he could remember. She would always hold his heart no matter where his travels took him. She was his sunlight. She was his guiding force.

Her hips pressed down, Michael’s erection penetrating the last obstacle holding them apart. She flinched at the sudden sharp pain that ripped through her senses, her body dropping weakly to splay across his chest. Soothing hands traced across her back, replacing one ache with another, stoking her desire once more.

Frantic need surged through her body, her hips rocking to relieve the building pressure. Michael gasped as she tentatively squeezed the muscles of her sex, his eyes closing at the sensation. She grew bolder, sitting up on his thighs, her hands propped upon his chest. Her lower body lifted off of him, her pace achingly slow as she pressed back down, taking him inside her wet depths.

Michael’s hips pushed off the mattress, his pelvis bucking into hers as his hands settled around her waist. His fingers convulsed, the press of his fingernails biting into her skin. She moaned, her body quickening the tempo she had set, matching the increasing thrusts of her lover.

Hair flew about her face as her head dropped to the side, her neck limp and unable to support the weight. A hand left the curve of her hip, trailing down her body, nestling in the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. The hard press of a thumb against her tiny bundle of nerves incited a deep, guttural scream. Her muscles clenched around Michael, a string of profanities leaving his lips as his back arched off the bed.

The embers burning inside her body ignited, spreading through her in a roaring wave. Her lips moved frantically, no words escaping them, the faintest moans rising in her throat. She spasmed, her body convulsing on top of Michael, jerking instinctively against him. Her body was now a beast out of her control.

She writhed, her hips swirling as Michael thrust upwards into her heat. Their pace accelerated, sweat exploding across her body as he drove inside her recklessly, hurriedly, violently. Each movement, each thrust stroked her insides, quickened her breath, made her want to cry out.

Their tempo grew disjointed, each close to release, each holding on for as long as possible. Her body jerked, twitched, her movements growing more shallow, less controlled. She arched her back violently, her hands flying behind her for support. Her body bucked in time with Michael’s, the thumb worrying her clit sending spikes of pleasure straight to her core.

Her vision began to glow, white halos surrounding everything within her sight. She closed her eyes as the coil winding up inside her snapped, a scream loosing from her lips as her body exploded. Her arms folded, her body dropping to the bed between Michael’s legs as sensation washed over her.

Tired, unable to move, she lay uncomfortably on top of Michael vaguely aware of the echoing screams spilling forth from his lips. Her eyes slid shut, a small smile curving to her lips as she drifted into the realm of sleep.

~*~

<center>I'll leave behind my heart to wear
And may it e'er remind you of
A taste of honey
A taste much sweeter than wine</center>

~*~

Glittering hazel bore into her eyes when she opened them, the swirling irises awash with a multitude of emotions. A hand lifted, cradling her cheek and she nuzzled into it, savoring the warmth and comfort it provided.

“Come with me,” Michael commanded softly, his eyes desperate and imploring.

“We both know that I can’t,” she replied quietly, her determination nonexistent in the wake of their lovemaking. “Max…”

“Max doesn’t matter,” he argued, his eyes growing dark as they stared into hers. “You love me. Me! I know you do. I can feel it here,” he finished, capturing her hand and pressing it to his heart.

“Michael,” she whispered, a tear slipping from her eye at the pulse beating rapidly beneath her palm. “I do love you…I do, but we both know this is all it can ever be. One night was all I asked of you, was all I had to give. One night…”

Water blurred her vision at Michael’s solemn nod; he was closing his emotions off, distancing himself from her. She didn’t want that, not yet, not ever.

“We have tonight,” she mumbled brokenly, her voice catching as she choked back a sob.

“One night’s not enough,” Michael returned stiffly, his body angling away from hers. “I want more.”

“One night’s all we have, Michael,” she whispered, a tear spilling down her cheek. “I can’t change the past. I can’t escape him.”

“I can…” he pleaded, his face turning back towards her.

“You can’t free me,” she interrupted, her heart heavy. “I’m not strong enough to break his hold, to sever this force he’s put on me. You don’t know enough about yourself, about what you want in your life. I’m not about to make you try something you don’t understand…”

“I do understand,” he argued, his jaw clenching. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. The only thing keeping us apart is Max and his selfishness. He doesn’t love you, not like I do. He can’t…”

“Then prove it,” she returned tiredly, stroking a finger across his lips. “Do what it is that Max cannot. Let me go. Live your life.”

“How can I live my life without you?” Michael shouted, rising to his knees and seizing her shoulders. “You are my life. I won’t leave you behind for Max to prey upon.”

“It’s not your decision to make, Michael,” she volleyed, gripping his forearms with her hands. “I’m not free to be yours; Max owns me. I may love you, but I’m not selfish. I won’t bind you to my fate. I won’t let Max cage you, too.”

“L…” he began, his voice deflating.

“Don’t, Michael,” she interrupted. “That’s not me, I’m not that girl anymore. The day Max saved my life I ceased to be her. She died that day, and I was born. I am nothing, the plaything of a boy who could not let me die.”

“Don’t you see?” she continued, tears streaking down her face. “Even if I do run, even if I do go with you, Max will always be there. I am his in everyway…everyway except how he wants me. He may hold my life, my gratitude, my freedom, but he does not hold my heart. Whatever this force is, whatever this compulsion he’s inflicted upon me, I can’t break it…not even for you. You need to leave, find yourself…without me.”

“I can’t do that,” Michael admitted, pulling his hands into his lap. “Not after I’ve held you in my arms. Not after I’ve felt your love for me. I can’t leave you to suffer alone.”

“You can and you will, Michael,” she stated firmly, levering herself into a sitting position. “You will go. You will find your answers, your salvation. I will not allow you to prostrate yourself at his feet.”

“I will survive, I will continue despite Max and his control,” she added. “You, Michael, would fade here in Roswell, lose that unrelenting drive that makes you you. Do you really want that for yourself? I’m not worth the effort, the sacrifice. If you stayed, we would not be together. Could you live such a life? Watching, dreaming from afar? Never being with the woman you loved? Always wishing for something you cannot have? Full of regret and anger?’

“Maybe I <I>am</I> selfish, but I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you pining away for a love that wasn’t meant to be. I want to know that you’re happy, that you’re living the life you’re destined for. That won’t happen if you stay in Roswell, if you don’t let me go to make your own path in life.”

“Such pessimism and resolution,” he grunted in irritation, glaring down at her. “Where’s that girl I read about in your journal? Where’s that thirst for life? That spark of energy?”

“I told you that girl was gone, Michael,” she breathed heavily.

Michael sighed, his lips drawing into a tight grimace. She saw the moment her words broke through to him, saw the sad resignation settle into his eyes. He would leave her, he would escape, that was all that mattered. She would miss him, she would be alone, but she couldn’t hold him back, couldn’t keep him from finding the answers his soul sought.

“Not gone,” she heard him whisper to himself, “lost.”

She ignored the comment, pretended that he was wrong. Hope, she’d given it up months back, resigned to the plans fate had laid out for her. She had a destiny; her path in life had been selected for her. She had no choices, no free will; there was no point in pretending otherwise.

The bed shifted beside her, Michael’s weight lifting off of the mattress. She dropped to her back and closed her eyes, her arms falling limply to her sides. This was how it would end; only she wouldn’t be doing the leaving. Michael was disgusted with her, angry that she thought so little of herself, that she didn’t have the strength to leave Max.

Strength had nothing to do with her staying; she physically couldn’t leave the man…boy…that had saved her life.

Lips brushed the arch of her foot and she shivered, gooseflesh rising on her skin. The warm damp of a rough tongue slid along her sole, curling around a toe, sucking it into the wet cavern of a mouth. Her eyes snapped open, gazing down her body to the man assaulting her senses. His face was hard, serious, determined, his eyes sparkling with unwanted knowledge.

“We have tonight,” Michael answered simply, tiredly, his hand trailing lightly over the bottom of her foot.

“One night,” she muttered in return, lost in his gaze, in the gentle touch of his fingers.

His eyes, they showed so much. Desire. Love. Pain. Heartache. She could drown in them; lose her soul, if she hadn’t already. He wanted her still, despite the coming morning, despite her vows and duty.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin, his lips butterfly soft.

She sighed, her body relaxing as Michael crawled onto the bed, his mouth raining kisses on her feet, her ankles, her calves. The gentle caress of calloused palms cradled her knees, sliding up her thighs, the delicate tips of fingers teasing her flesh.

“I love you,” he murmured, nipping the bend of her knee.

His tongue trailed a wet path across her inner thigh, his nose nudging against the crease of her leg. She shuddered as his breath blew over her sensitive folds, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste her sex. Her body bucked against him, desperate to be closer to his mouth, to the pleasure he was offering.

Hands settled onto her hips, holding her down, keeping her still. His lips touched her sex, her body quivered, her legs scissoring. The grip tightened, Michael’s body wedging between her thighs, his tongue pressing demandingly against her hooded bundle of nerves. She screamed, her hands fisting into his hair.

He tortured her relentlessly, his tongue a weapon, caressing her folds, probing her sex. His hands shifted, slipping under her thighs, pressing him to her as he fed hungrily at her body. Teeth grazed her clit, pulling it tenderly into his mouth, ravaging her senses. She mewled, incapable of speech, lost to the fire racing through her blood.

A hand moved, fingers entering her body, teasing, fondling, seeking. She gasped as he pressed upwards, towards her stomach, a tingling wave of sensation washing over her. He nuzzled her with his mouth as he pumped in and out of her body, his tongue licking, sucking, driving her mad with lust.

Her eyes squeezed shut, white light bursting behind her closed lids. She screamed, Michael’s name spilling forth from her lips. Her body tensed, her hands tightening in his hair, she gave herself to the energy, to the orgasm. She exploded, her mind fragmenting into a million shards, her body falling limp and sated to the bed.

Michael lapped at her folds, his tongue bathing her body, caressing her hypersensitive flesh. She felt herself respond, a rush of moisture spilling from within. She groaned, needing more, needing Michael inside her.

“Michael,” she pleaded, begged. “Please… Please…”

He stared at her across the line of her body, his eyes glittering, his lips glistening with her juices. She watched his tongue slip from his mouth, licking the full, generous lips, a devious smirk forming. His hands released her, falling to either siding of her hips, pulling his body off the mattress.

“Please…”

The muscles bulged in his back as he crawled over her, rippling, sleek, like some great cat. She gasped at the feral gleam in his eyes, at the dangerous curve of his lips. He sniffed, his nose flaring at her scent, at the smell of sex in the air. A shiver wracked through her body as he bowed his spine, their chests brushing, the heat burning inside him threatening to light her on fire.

His weight settled down upon her, heavy and comforting, strange and unfamiliar. They aligned perfectly, seamlessly, her legs spread to welcome him, cradle him. She groaned as his tip entered her, pushing into her swollen channel. Her hips tilted off the bed, taking him more fully inside, bringing them closer together.

Michael inhaled deeply, his breath caressing her face as he exhaled. His lips hovered over hers, close but not touching, his mouth parting as he penetrated her body. He slid inside slowly, her muscles fluttering around his erection, her walls expanding to hold him, all of him.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, the staccato in time with Michael’s, matching him in its fervency. His eyes met hers, held them, glowing with love, with sadness. She cupped his cheek, pressed a light kiss to his lips, a tear leaking from her eye.

He cocked his head, staring at the tear as it trailed down her cheek. The softness of his lips washed it away. “No tears. Not tonight.”

She nodded slightly, her breath catching as his hands slid over her palms, his fingers kneading the flesh before twining with hers. Lips traveled down her cheek, her throat, Michael’s breath whispering in her ear. She arched into him, her head craning to the side. Teeth nipped at her flesh, bit, marked, teased, his tongue soothing the hurts, curling around the lobe of her ear.

The muscles gripping his erection contracted, constricting around his girth. He groaned, his body shuddering at the tightening. His body began to rock into hers, the tension in her loins building with each movement. Withdrawing, returning, he coaxed a whimper from her lips.

Her legs looped around his, her heels digging into his calves as she lifted her hips off the mattress. She urged him faster, harder, her breath growing frantic and raspy with each stroke, each thrust. He pounded into her, his face burrowing into her neck, his teeth marring her skin.

His movements became quicker, jerkier, less smooth, his body trembling with every push. Her muscles spasmed around him, her fingernails digging into his back as wave of ecstasy ripped through her. Sensation rocked through her and she tossed her head back. She arched off the bed with a scream, her back bowing as Michael tensed inside of her. Stars erupted in her eyes, her body falling limply to the mattress.

Panting, boneless, her eyes shuttered closed, her mind peaceful and empty. Her lover collapsed onto her, his body pressing her firmly into the mattress. She sighed, rolling with him, resting on his chest, drifting to sleep.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, too.”

~*~

<center>He ne'er came back to his love so fair
And so she died dreaming of his kiss
His kiss of honey
A taste more bitter than wine</center>

~*~

Michael turned, his arms cradling her even as he slept. Her eyes reluctantly drifted open, unwilling to wake from the dream. A dream it was, a moment out of time, something so unbelievable it couldn’t be true.

Aching sadness swelled in her heart; her body shuddered as she choked back a sob. This night was it, the last time she’d see Michael, the last time she’d have happiness. Would she have come if she’d known leaving him would be this hard? Would she have been so impulsive? Would she have betrayed Max?

Yes, the answer was simple enough. She would have come; she would have found him. There was nothing she would have changed about the night. There was nothing she would regret, nothing she would abhor. She’d given herself to the man she loved, her debt to Max was not enough to make her feel guilt.

Her body throbbed as she crawled out of his arms, instantly cold and missing his touch. Her flesh burned at the memory of his swollen manhood claiming her again and again, driving her to ecstasy time after time. His kisses, his touch had seared her mind, never to be forgotten, never to be replaced. She knew she would crave him for eternity.

He had been right; one night was not enough.

She closed her eyes against the building tears and turned away from Michael, ignoring the pull that compelled her back towards him, towards his embrace. Her body shivered as she climbed out of the bed, the air cool against her skin as she gathered her few items of clothing.

A hiss escaped her mouth as she drew the satiny nightgown over her head, her body tender from the night of lovemaking. He had marked her with his mouth, his hands, his body; she bore the bruises proudly, the stinging reminder of his fingernails a welcome pleasure. If only she could keep them forever…

The bed shifted, Michael’s body rolling over, his hands desperately seeking her out as he slumbered. Her eyes flicked to him, a hand rising to her mouth at the picture of him sprawled across the bed, his back scarred with the bite of her nails. His body tensed under her stare, and she knew that he had awoken.

Her heart thrummed loudly in her chest. She was scared, terrified that Michael would open his eyes, turn to her, plead with her to stay. She couldn’t have that, not now; she was too weak to deny him, too weak to leave him if he asked one more time.

She turned, bolted to the door and hurriedly threw the locks. She left him, left him for the life she did not want, for a life with a man she did not love.

Her ears caught the gentle gasp of Michael’s breath, his parting words to her as the door slammed closed. “I love you.”

~*~

~*~

<center>I will return I'll return
I'll come back for the honey and you</center>

~*~

The paper in Michael’s hand crackled as he flattened it against his palm, the carefully inked address clearly visible to his eyes. He sighed, squinting at the numbers on the house one last time before climbing out of his vehicle. With leaden feet he walked towards the front doorway, nervous and fearful as to what he might find upon knocking.

“Who are you?” a small, tinny voice piped up to his left, startling Michael.

Michael’s eyes darted to the intruder, to the small dark-haired boy that stared at him from behind a nearby stand of shrubbery. He couldn’t have been more than six, but he was tall for his age, his body long and slender. Mud and grass stained his clothing, his face nearly indistinguishable from the grime. His eyes, though, they shined through the dirt, sparkling with mischief and suspicion.

The boy’s eyes…Michael would know them anywhere. He’d seen the green-flecked whiskey in the mirror that morning, had seen it everyday for all of his life. His jaw grew slack, his mouth gaping widely as he recognized the boy for who he was. Liz’s child. <I>His</I> son.

“My name’s Michael,” he replied dumbly, quickly trying to gather his wits. “What’s yours?”

“Mom says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” he retorted with a smirk.

“And she’d be right, little man,” Michael answered, a grin spreading across his face. “But I’m not exactly a stranger.”

He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t known… How would he? How could he? Liz had left him that morning so that he could find himself, seek out the answers he’d so desperately needed. He hadn’t considered the possibility that they had created a child, that his son would be growing within her womb.

Why hadn’t she tried to find him? Why hadn’t she told him? Michael knew those answers even as his mind asked the questions. If he had known, he would have stayed.

“Finn,” the boy stated, crossing his tiny arms over his chest.

“Short for Finnegan?” Michael questioned, scratching at his eyebrow. At the boy’s nod, he added, “Your mother must not like you very much to give you that name.”

She’d named him Finnegan, Finnegan. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, but how had she known? He’d only ever told Maria about his love for Joyce.

Finn scowled, his eyebrows puckering in irritation. “I’m named after a book, and my mom happens to love me.”

“I know she does,” Michael returned honestly, noting that his eyes were not all the boy had inherited. “Is your mom home? I need to see her.”

“Did you come to take us away?” Finn asked quietly, the faint shine of tears in his eyes.

Michael blinked, caught off-guard by the question, by the raw emotion swimming in his son’s eyes. Hope, he saw hope in the child’s eyes, not fear, not anger…hope. Finn wanted to leave, wanted Michael to take he and his mother somewhere else.

Before he could answer, a loud masculine voice broke across the yard. “Finn, get in the house now.”

“No,” Finn returned petulantly, glaring up at the newcomer. “I’m talking to Michael.”

Dark hair, burning amber eyes, and large, jutting ears glared at him from the porch…Max. Michael stared at him, at his brother, barely recognizing him. Slightly heavier, a few more wrinkles, and shaggy hair, but the physical changes were not most apparent. The glow that he’d always had about him was gone; Max was harder, his face more stern, his anger palpable.

“I said get in the house, Finn,” Max barked, the veins in his neck throbbing as he stepped down onto the walkway.

When the boy still refused to move, Max grabbed his arm and pushed him towards the house. Finn stumbled to his knees, barely catching himself with his hands. Michael watched Finn’s shoulders shake as he climbed to his feet, all fight disappearing from his tiny body. The door slammed behind him as he entered the house.

Michael’s anger spiked. No one manhandled his child.

“Keep your hands off him,” he growled, placing himself between Max and the direction Finn had escaped.

Max snorted and rolled his eyes, nonchalantly crossing heavy arms over his chest as he stared at Michael. “I suppose you’re going to make me? He’s my child, I can do with him as I please.”

Air rushed through Michael’s nose as he tried to calm himself, tried to not let Max get the better of him. “I will make you,” he retorted, barely masking the rage that saturated his mind.

Laughter flew from Max’s lips, his body shaking with mirth at Michael’s words. “Like you really have the balls to stand up to me. You’ve always been weak, inferior. That’s why you left, you couldn’t handle being reminded daily that I was better than you, that I would always be better than you.”

“Try me,” Michael snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Pfft,” Max blurted, dismissively waving his hands. “What are you doing here, Michael?” he continued, his eyes narrowing. “Why come back after all this time?”

“You know why I’m here,” Michael answered coolly, all emotion disappearing from his face.

“If you’re here to take her away,” Max informed him bluntly, “don’t bother. She didn’t go with you last time, she won’t now.”

Michael’s eyes widened at the declaration, the only sign of his surprise. Last time? That meant Max knew what had happened seven years ago, knew that Liz loved him…Michael. Did that mean he knew about Finn? He’d hated Max before but now he truly despised him.

“I think she will,” Michael fired back. “And I think you know it. What’s the matter, Maxwell? Losing control over Liz? Is she finally breaking free from that spell you cast upon her? Scared to lose her to a real man?”

“You need to leave, Michael,” Max commanded, cracking his knuckles threateningly.

“Not going to happen,” he spat spitefully, towering over Max. “I’m not leaving here without Liz and Finn.”

“Fine, take Finn,” Max interjected with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Take your bastard son, it’s not like I want him here. He’s always been in the way, a nuisance since the day he was born. I would have taken care of him myself if I’d known his parentage earlier, but the bitch lied to me, told me he was mine.”

He flinched at the venom in Max’s voice, at the blind hatred radiating from him. Finn was an innocent, the result of two people in love, but Max saw him as a monster, as a lesser being. There was no doubt left in his mind; Michael was not leaving without them…without both of them.

“Imagine my surprise,” Max ranted, “after his birth…the eyes, the attitude, the facial expressions. Each and every day he became more like you, more arrogant, more weak, more imperfect. There was no doubting he was your child, no denying her betrayal.”

“If Liz betrayed you, if she’s so unworthy of your love,” Michael interrupted angrily, “then why don’t you let her go?”

Max sneered, his lips curling viciously. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Michael? You’d like for me to set her free, to forfeit my claim on her. It’s never going to happen. Liz is mine. I own her. You can’t have her.”

“You don’t own her,” Michael shouted, his eyes flashing. “She’s a person, not some possession.”

“Try telling her that, Michael,” Max gloated menacingly. “She’d mine in every sense of the term…her mind, her soul…her body.”

Inside Michael was boiling at the thought of Max’s hands on Liz, but he kept his outward calm, not rising to the bait. “Is that true?” he taunted, a sardonic grin twisting to his lips. “You hold her heart? She loves you?”

“Shut up,” Max ground out between clenched teeth. “Love’s nothing more than a weakness. I don’t need her love. I don’t need her heart.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Maxwell,” Michael stated, his mouth pursing in bemusement. “I know what it’s like to love Liz, to know that she loves me in return.”

“A lot of good it did you,” Max snarled. “She came back to me; she couldn’t have loved you as much as you thought.”

Michael’s jaw tensed, his teeth biting into his tongue. The taste of iron soothed him, calmed the murderous rage growing inside of him. “What’s the matter, Maxwell?” he sneered. “Jealous?”

He anticipated the hit, had been watching for it, and calmly sidestepped the fury of Max’s fist. The other man tumbled to the ground, his head bouncing dully off the grass. Michael turned to him, standing over his prone, unconscious body.

“Tsk, tsk, Max,” Michael chided, unimpressed and disdainful. “I see some things haven’t changed.”

“And some things have,” a voice whispered from behind him.

He spun, Max losing his interest at the husky feminine purr. She was there, standing tall and proud, her hands poised angrily on her hips. Michael had dreamed about her, about this moment for so long. It was not how he’d imagined, not how he’d wanted, but it was there.

“Welcome home, Michael,” she stated, the hint of a smile quirking at her lips as she glanced over at Max.

“I didn’t come home,” he answered roughly, meeting her eyes with purpose.

“No?” she replied, her eyebrows puckering curiously as she chewed on her lip. A brief flash of panic crossed her face, but she didn’t run.

“No,” Michael echoed firmly, stepping forward and grasping her shoulders gently with his hands. “I came for you.”

Liz’s body quaked, a giant sob spilling from her mouth as she collapsed against Michael. He held her close, his chest trembling, tears spilling from his eyes. What did this mean?

“Come with me?” he asked, his heart anxious and fearful. He didn’t know if he could take her rejection a second time.

She pulled away, out of the circle of his arms. Her eyes avoided his as she backed towards Max and dropped to the ground beside him. Michael’s head fell to his chest, his hopes plummeting, his fears confirmed. She didn’t want him; she still couldn’t leave Max.

Michael fought the rage building up inside him, tried to tamp down his disappointment, the urge to scream his pain to the world. His chest ached, his throat burned; he was tired, so tired. Slowly he backed towards the street, his eyes incapable of leaving Liz even though she had broken his heart for the last time. He watched as she brought her hands to Max’s forehead, watched the white glow rise from her fingers.

“Don’t go,” he heard Finn say, a tiny hand pressing against his palm. “She’s saying goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Michael muttered, confused at Finn’s statement.

His eyes darted down to the little boy then back to Liz, too puzzled to firmly grasp what was going on. The white glow faded from her hands, and Max’s eyes opened, horror-filled amber orbs shining brightly in the sun.

“You can’t leave,” Max shouted, his hair falling into his eyes, masking the face skewed in anger. “I won’t let you go.”

“You don’t have that control anymore, Max,” Liz threw back at him, motioning towards her head. “You’re gone; our connection is severed. I am not yours any longer.”

Max lunged at Liz, his body falling short and crumpling to the grass before Michael could move to intercede. “What did you do to me?”

“Took back what was mine, Max,” she answered dryly, scowling down at him.

“He’ll never love you like I do,” he screamed, grabbing for her leg as she moved away.

“One can only hope,” she mumbled, climbing to her feet and brushing aside the dirt clinging to her legs.

Michael nearly grinned at the imagery, at the thought of Liz wiping herself clean of Max’s taint. He couldn’t have been hearing her correctly, but his eyes and heart told him differently. She was leaving Max, finally, completely, forever, to be with him.

“You’ll be back,” Max grunted, struggling to put his feet underneath him but failing. “You can’t live without me. You couldn’t do it before, you can’t do it now.”

“That might have been true once,” Liz retorted scornfully, “but no longer. Do you think I’m stupid? Blind? I’ve seen how you treat Finn; I’ve seen your ‘loving’ touch. I’m done exposing him to you, to your temper, to your control. You can’t have him. You can’t have me. I’m done.”

“How was I supposed to treat him?” he growled, growing increasingly frustrated when his limbs failed to obey him. “He’s not my son. He’s not my blood. I could never love someone polluted with Michael’s impurities. I treated him as he deserved; I treated him as the worthless little mongrel he is. He can leave. I don’t care. Let him run away with his daddy; let him see what kind of a man he’s going to be.”

“And what kind of a man is that, Max?” she snorted, the line of her back tensing. “A kind, caring, fulfilling lover? A man that listened to me, let me go when I asked him to? A man that loves me, came back for me?”

“Wait,” she interrupted herself, tapping a finger against her jaw. “Maybe you wanted him to be more like you? Mean tempered, abusive, a man without morals? Someone who is willing to do anything to get what they want? Someone who would use their kindness as a tool, as a crutch to keep the woman they ‘love’ by their side?”

“You had an affair with him,” Max screamed, glistening strands of spittle flying from his mouth. “And you talk to me about morals and the consequences of actions?”

Liz grew eerily quiet, her body trembling. She was angry, irate; Michael could feel the emotion rolling off her, the restraint. He wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her waist, but it was her fight, he couldn’t interfere. Not unless she asked him to.

“First of all,” Liz breathed heavily, her nostrils flaring, “let’s set a few things straight. I owe you nothing. Whatever debt there was has been repaid many times over with my blood, with my sweat, with my tears. You healed me, Max, over seven years ago. I didn’t ask for you to do it. I didn’t ask to be brought into your life, that was your doing, your decision.’

“I’ve spent every moment since then feeling guilty, thinking I owed you my life, thinking that I’d never be able to repay you. I tried to love you, Max, tried let you into my heart, but I couldn’t. This connection you formed with me prevented that, made me hate you. You took away my freedom, bound me to you so tightly that I no longer had my own mind, my own thoughts.”

“Michael,” she continued, a happy lilt seeping into her voice at his name. “He was my one selfish act, the one thing I could do for myself. I love him, have for as long as I remember. I wasn’t free to love him, though, not then, but I could give him one night, show him how I felt, that I cared. I don’t regret it, can’t regret it.”

“You still cheated on me,” Max argued petulantly, his lips pursing into a fine line. “You still betrayed me.”

“What is that, Max?” Liz returned brightly, blinking down at him. “I cheated on you? I betrayed you?’

“I’m tired of living in your little world, Max, tired of seeing things through your eyes. Everything’s got to be about you, doesn’t it? Everyone should work together for your happiness? No one should do anything that might upset you, isn’t that right?”

“I did not betray you with Michael,” she spat vehemently. Michael’s breath caught as she captured his eyes over Max’s body. “I’m not yours, never have been, never will be. It’s taken me a long time to realize that. I couldn’t cheat on you, because we,” she flicked her eyes down, motioning between she and Max with her hands, “never existed.”

“If you want to talk betrayal, Max, cheating,” Liz continued menacingly, “what about Tess? How many times did you fuck her? Did you have her screaming your name? Did you rock her world? I bet she gave you everything you asked for, didn’t she? You got to be king. You got to be in control. She was your own personal whore.’

“I thought that maybe, maybe, once she’d entered your life, you’d forget about me. Thought that maybe you’d be the bigger man and release me on the off chance that she could make you happy. Couldn’t have that now, could you? You had to have us both, had to have each of us under your thumb. And what happened when she wanted more? Did she even scream for mercy when you grew tired of her? Killed her?’

“She trusted you, loved you, and you couldn’t even give her anything in return, could you? You cast her away and when she kept coming back, when she told you she was pregnant with your child? You took care of the problem, didn’t you? Made sure that no one would find out your little indiscretion. I knew, we all did. Everyone’s just too scared of you, of what you say or do, but not any longer.”

Michael blanched at Liz’s accusations, his eyes immediately seeking out his friend, his brother. He didn’t know this Tess, didn’t know what Liz was talking about, but he did know she spoke the truth. The truth…Max was a murderer, a villain; it was clear in his steely, unrepentant eyes. The years had corrupted him, made him bitter, sour; he was nowhere near the man he had been when Michael had left.

“Is that what this is about?” Max yelled, his voice growing increasingly hysterical as he tried to grasp her words. “You’re doing this to get even with me? I killed Tess for us. She was trying to come between what we have, my love for you.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Liz returned, disgust and outrage coloring her words. “I don’t love you, never have. I love Michael. And as for Tess, you killed her for you, no one else. You are a monster, a cold-hearted, despicable man, and I’m through with you.”

“Goodbye, Max Evans,” she stated dryly, without inflection. She turned calmly and walked away.

“You’re nothing but a lying, worthless whore,” Max spat at her retreating figure.

“You’re wrong,” she called over her shoulder, a smile lighting on her face as she met Michael’s eyes. “I’m Liz Parker.”

Michael ignored the curses spewing from Max’s mouth as Liz took his hand and led him to his waiting vehicle. The other man was angry, broken, his body splayed across the well-kempt lawn. Max didn’t matter anymore, not to him, not to Liz, not to the life they were starting together. She was there, with him, leading the way, finally leaving Max behind.

Was it real? Was it all an illusion? His mind was in turmoil—shock, confusion, doubt—all very real feelings, all very familiar. Liz was his. He had a son.

Rounding the car, he held the passenger’s side door open allowing Finn to scamper into the backseat. He stared after the boy, awed and amazed by the tiny person he had helped create. It still hadn’t sunk in, that he was a father, that he had a family…

“I wanted to tell you,” Liz whispered, her voice quaking at her admission.

“I know,” he replied softly, turning to take her into his arms. “I know.”

Liz leaned back in his embrace, her head inclining towards his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Michael answered, meeting her lips for the briefest of kisses.

“Gross,” he heard from deep within his car.

He and Liz chuckled, breaking apart. “Let’s get out of here,” she smiled happily up at him. “Michael, take me home.”

Home. Finally. It was the end of a very long journey.

~*~

<center>Winds may blow over the icy sea
I'll take with me the warmth of thee
A taste of honey
A taste much sweeter than wine

I will return I'll return
I'll come back for the honey and you

I'll leave behind my heart to wear
And may it e'er remind you of
A taste of honey
A taste much sweeter than wine

I will return I'll return
I'll come back for the honey and you

He ne'er came back to his love so fair
And so she died dreaming of his kiss
His kiss of honey
A taste more bitter than wine

I will return I will return
I'll come back for the honey and you
I'll come back for the honey and you</center>

~*~

The End