Finding Ulysses (Mi/L, ADULTCh.1-13 ) Ch. 14 1/03/05

[Peachykin]

Title: Finding Ulysses
Author: Peachykin
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Mi/L
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. Unfortunately Katims did and now we're all just cleaning up his mess.

Spoliers: None
Summary:Six years after Graduation, Michael's got someone on his mind.



Chapter 1

Michael looked down at his watch reading the late hour then turned his attentions to nearly deserted bar. There were a few stragglers sharing old stories or drowning their sorrows hoping to find salvation in at the bottom of a shot glass. The band had played their last set two hours earlier and the sad haunting voice of Billie Holliday serenaded the lonely souls that had picked the bar as company.

“Hey Sweet, “ Michael elbowed the old African-American bartender, “Better make this last call.”

“Got a hot date Boss man?” The much older man asked him, knowing already what the younger man’s answer would be.

Michael grinned, “Only with my pillow, Sweet.”

The old man chuckled, “Son, I still say you’re too young to have the blues.” His graveled voice drawling.

Michael slapped his weathered friend on the back, “And I still say you haven’t walked a mile in my shoes, Sweet.”

“Never could. You walk around in boats there, Boss.” Sweet returned, with a hearty chuckle, before letting out a loud whistle and announcing the night’s last call.

“When are gonna stop calling me Boss, Sweet? I hate that.” Michael said with a smile, moving his lips to Sweet’s standard reply.

“I call you three things. Michael, cause that’s the name God gave ya. Son, because hell boy I’m a good forty years older than you. And Boss, because that’s what you are, my boss. Now unless any of those things change, that’s what I’m gonna call you.” He informed Michael, before taking a few final orders.

Michael shook his head laughing. Never in his life did he ever think anyone would be calling him, “Boss”. But here he stood behind a bar, twenty-four years old and the proud owner and proprietor of Ulysses. It was a small, but moderately successful bar just off Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Hank Guerin had one thing right about his boy; he made a helluva barman.

It had been six years since he’d left Roswell with his small family: Max, Isabel, Kyle, Maria and Liz. And it had been five years since he left the group, cutting all his ties. Life in the group had become too confined, too controlled and he was dying. Max had Liz, and while Isabel had loved Jesse, they couldn’t make their marriage work under such stressful conditions. But Michael felt she had Kyle to lean on.

Maria had left him, them, only two months before he had decided to leave. He should have known their relationship would never survive the hardships, the constant moving, the odd jobs, and the uncertainty. In the end they parted as friends, but he knew it was the last time they’d ever see each other. Surprisingly he was okay with it.

The only ones who seemed to be thriving, at least outwardly, in their life on the run had been Max and Liz, or moreover, Max. He loved their life no matter where it seemed to take them, but Michael knew it was only because Max finally had Liz. They’d been so damn happy after their wedding it nearly made Michael sick, but as the months wore on Michael began to see a change in Liz, and not for the better.

Michael started to sense a sadness about Liz about six months into their departure from Roswell. Maybe she was missing her folks or the life of a small town girl. Maybe she resented missing out on Harvard and the opportunities she could have had with that kind of education. Maybe it was all those things. Max had promised to make her dreams come true; he’d even said it in their vows. But Michael couldn’t help but feel that somehow, not intentionally, Max had taken away those dreams.

What threw Michael was that even now nearly five years later he was still thinking about the dying light in Liz’s eyes. Maybe it had been the confined space they’d been forced to share in that first year, but Michael found himself caring about Liz. Not in a romantic way, or at least not that he’d admit to, but as a person.

In the two months before Michael left, he and Liz started talking about nothing and everything. They had helped each other through the finality of Maria’s departure, both finding acceptance in her reasons and while they would miss her, they envied her freedom and her bold pursuit of her dreams.

Michael never told anyone he was leaving. No long letter explaining his regrets or reasons. Not even a damn post-it note. He hadn’t even told Liz how he was feeling. He never told anyone that. He simply packed his bags late one night, throwing everything he owned into the beat-up Nova he’d bought a few months earlier, and crept out of the house he shared with the remaining group.

He’d just thrown the last bag in when he caught Liz out of the corner of his eye standing on the bottom porch step. She looked so small and weary standing there wearing her worn cotton robe. Michael approached her with a guilty look on his face.
“I…” he started to say looking away nervously, but Liz just shook her head.

“I just wanted a chance to say goodbye, Michael.” She whispered, her voice catching with emotion.

Michael met her eyes, finding they had tears welled inside them, for him, and while it broke his heart, he was confused, “You aren’t gonna try and stop me?”

“Why would I?” she asked as though he should know, then let a smile touch the corners of her mouth, “Like you’d listen?”

“I might.” He found himself saying. He’d been so sure only minutes before that he could leave and never look back, but seeing Liz cry, over him, he felt his resolve crumble.

“I won’t lie to you Michael, part of me wants you to stay.” She sighed in resignation, “But you have nothing holding you here. You’re stifled, living the life Max has chosen for you instead of the one you want. We envied Maria her freedom, now you have a real chance at it. How can I not let you go?”

Michael felt a lump forming in his own throat. Liz wasn’t giving him her permission to leave, she was giving him her blessing and in a way her hope that he could live the life she’d given up to be with Max, “Why do I feel the need to ask you to come with me?” he said scratching his eyebrow.

“Because you know I’m not happy.” Liz stated bluntly.

Michael’s eyes widened at her words. He’d been sensing it, but she never said it out loud, now there it was. “Liz… you could…”

Liz shook her head, “You need to find your own path Michael, without me, or Max, or Isabel…or anyone. If I came with you Max would be after us and we’d still be on the run. I couldn’t do that to you. That’s not freedom. That’s not what you deserve.”

Michael knew she was right, but he hated it. He wanted to take the girl who’d become such a good friend to him, away from a life he knew was killing her, but she was right. If he was ever going to find his place in the world, he’d have to do it on his own.

He nodded at her looking back at the Nova then the house, “I…uh, didn’t leave a note or anything. I didn’t know what to say.” He told her.

Liz returned his nod, hugging her arms around her body for warmth, “Probably best. They’d all read into it what they wanted to, twist it to fit their needs. You know why your leaving and so do I.”

“That’s enough for me.” Michael told her.
There was a long silence as they stood in the cold night air prolonging their goodbye, once again feeling the finality of it. Liz finally spoke, breaking the quiet of the moment, “Just promise me you won’t look back, Michael. If you do, you’ll just get sucked back in. Please?”

Michael nodded, but it bothered him, “Liz if you hate it, why are you staying?” he asked boldly.

“For better or worse, Michael.” She offered lamely, seeing him roll his eyes she dropped her hands to her sides, “I forgot what my dreams were and I’m not brave like you.”

“Yes you are Liz.” Michael said unconsciously bringing his hand up to brush away the tear that had fallen down her cheek. “And when you figure that out, you come find me.”

Liz smiled for him, but Michael saw the doubt in her eyes and feared for her. He knew if she waited too long she’d lose whatever was left of her in Max’s dreams and that would be the worst crime in the world.

“You better go, Michael.” She whispered, a sob catching in her throat.

Michael wrapped his arms around the tiny woman only the second time he’d ever done so. He didn’t want this to be goodbye. He didn’t want to lose their friendship and the undercurrent of love he knew would grow stronger if he stayed.

Uncharacteristic tears fell down Michael’s face as he held Liz’s sobbing frame, but he didn’t feel the need to wipe them away. He wanted her to see that this wasn’t easy for him. Leaving her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. Because no matter how stifled and confined he felt living in the confines of their group, in those two months after Maria had left and until that moment, he’d begun to feel he’d found a home, in Liz.

“Thank you.” Michael said, holding her face in his large hands. Liz knew he was thanking her for her friendship and understanding, and for letting him go even if now he wasn’t sure.

Michael wasn’t sure what possessed him, but the knowledge that he may never see her again seemed to force his next action. He leaned down, brushing his mouth over Liz’s. He’d only meant it to be a light kiss, just to know, for once, what her lips felt and tasted like. But Liz wrapped her arms around his neck and he felt himself pulling her closer to his body deepening the kiss. Their tongues stroked the other and a soft moan escaped her throat as he held the back of her head, threading his fingers through her long dark locks.

Air was the devil, as it caused them to part, panting, their breaths clouding in the frigid air and dissipating a moment later. Liz rested her head on his shoulder and he rubbed her back absently. A moment later Michael tipped her head back up to his own.

“Just needed to see what that would feel like.” He told her with a smirk, belying the now stronger pull he felt to stay, just for her. The kiss had been that powerful.

“Thanks.” She returned his smile, because she had wanted the same thing, “See, I told you, you’re the brave one.” He chuckled softly kissing her forehead lightly.

Liz looked at the Nova then back at Michael, her eyes welling with tears again, “You really need to go Michael, before you wake anyone up.”

“I know.” He said mournfully, taking a step back, releasing Liz from his arms. He winced as she brought her arms back around her body to try and replace the warmth his body had given her. This couldn’t be goodbye. She’d come to mean too much to him. He needed to leave her with an option, or at the very least a sense of hope.

He pulled on her arms, taking her hands in his own, “Should you uncover your strength one day, Liz… look for me. Promise me.”

“Michael…” Liz protested, sure she would never find what he saw in her.

“Promise. Me.” He said insistently.

Liz softened and smiled, “I promise, Michael." she relented, “But how will I know where you are?”

Michael taxed his mind for a moment, then a grin spread over his face as he remembered a particularly spirited discussion they’d once had about the greatest novel ever written. Neither of them convinced the other in the end, but it had been a kick-start to their new friendship.

“Find Ulysses.” He whispered.

When Liz smiled Michael knew he’d gotten through to her. He only hoped someday she’d realize her own bravery. He gently dropped her hands, and before he could change his mind about leaving, he ran to the Nova. He started the engine catching a glimpse of her as he shut the door. Pulling out of the driveway he’d been tempted to take one last look at her through the rear view mirror, but she’d made him promise not to look back.

~*~

Sweet was wiping down tables and putting chairs up while Michael turned away from the bar bringing his attention to the till. It had been a good night and he’d be up at least another hour doing the books. He heard the door to the bar open, assuming Sweet hadn’t locked it yet.

“Oh I’m sorry Miss, but the bar is closed for the night.” The old man said in a kind voice. Michael smiled at his friend’s demeanor; he really lived up to his nickname.

“Even for a Shirley Temple?” the familiar female voice asked.
Michael’s heart leapt into his throat and his eyes widened. His eyes shot up to the mirrored wall of the bar and saw her standing there. But it couldn’t be her. She wasn’t real. It had to be a trick of the eyes. He was tired and seeing things.

“Michael?” she said. Apparently he was hearing them too.

Michael closed his eyes turning around, sure she’d be gone when he opened them, but she was really there. Still small and weary, but beautiful. He looked behind her to see if her husband was close by and found no one.

“Liz?” He finally rasped, “What are you...? How did you…”

Liz smiled, “I found Ulysses.”

~*~
TBC

Chapter 2


Michael heard Liz say the words. She’d “found Ulysses”, so that had to mean Max couldn’t be with here, but for so long it was never one without the other. Since the day Max had healed her, even during their separations it had been MaxandLiz. Seeing her without him seemed foreign and he couldn’t trust his eyes. He had to know…

“Where’s Max?”

He regretted the question when he saw Liz’s smile fall, and she cast her eyes to the floor. Her fists clenched at her sides and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before meeting Michael’s gaze again, a confidence he’d never heard lacing her voice.

“I left him…nearly a year ago. I’ve been running ever since. I didn’t know you were here it was an accident…I saw and ad and I took a chance…” she began to back away, tears filling her eyes, “I didn’t mean to disrupt your life… I’ll just…”

Her words were lost somewhere in the fabric that covered Michael chest, when as quick as lightening Michael had jumped over the bar and pulled her into his arms, engulfing her in a crushing hug. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her whole body relax at the safety, protection and most important, friendship he provided her with. Liz wasn’t sure what her feelings for Michael were, or if they had definition. All she knew is that they ran deep and that part of becoming, who she was now, had something to do with him. But for the moment she just felt right sharing the same space with him.

Once Liz had announced her freedom from her old life Michael’s felt his momentary paralyzation disappear, and as she began to retreat he practically flew to stop her. It was as though his heart wouldn’t allow him to embrace Liz without her newfound independence. It was like she said all those years ago, he’d, “…just get sucked back in.”

But there Liz was, without Max, without her old life, and he felt strength throughout her small body that had only been a flicker the night he left. He didn’t know or even trust his feelings for the girl in his arms, but all he knew was that she was part of who he was now and of everyone in his old life, she was the one he’d thought of the most.


Sweet watched the two old friends holding onto each other as if they were the other’s anchors. In the four years he’d known Michael, he’d never seen the boy this rattled by anyone, let alone a woman. Plenty of women tried, only to be rebuffed. Sweet had initially thought maybe Michael was gay, but when he saw the sadness in his eyes, he knew that no woman stood a chance with him because another one had either broken his heart, or still had an invisible hold on it.

Something, or someone, weighed heavily on that boy’s heart and the spark Sweet saw in Michael’s eyes the minute Liz walked in the door…. Well, Mrs. Johnston didn’t raise any fool; this girl brought his young friend to life.
Liz also seemed to be a part of Michael’s past that had been made clear early on in his friendship with Sweet he didn’t talk about. Sweet had never been inclined to press Michael, but seeing his near joy with Liz, he gathered she was a least a good part of that past. Maybe the only good part. The way the large boy held her in his arms, the reasons for the boy’s blues at such a young age became clearer to the weathered old man. Sweet finally felt he’d walked, at least a few steps, in Michael’s over-sized shoes.

“How did you find me?” Michael asked Liz as he pulled back, unconsciously wiping away the happy tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

Liz let out a giggle, “I told you, it was an accident. I saw an ad for a waitress at the college job board. When I saw the name of the club, Ulysses and then your name at the bottom…” she let out a small laugh, “Michael Joyce? Well I had to take a chance that it could be you. I wasn’t looking for you…”

“Guess I’m not that hard to find.” Michael chuckled.

“Oh you are, Max looked for you for over a year after you left. He just didn’t know where to look.” Liz explained.

“But you did.” He said softly, somehow knowing it would be her that would walk out of his past and back into his life. Like she was the only one who’d only really ever known him.

The urge to kiss her like he had the night he left was overwhelming, but he knew it was wrong, at least for now. Five years was a long time. He felt Liz had changed, but just how much and would he even fit in her life someway still had to be discovered. Or could she fit in his? Jesus, she was barely in his life again for two minutes and he was trying to figure out a way to make her a part of it? What happened to the hard edge he’d managed to maintain with everyone but Sweet? And why was he thinking about Liz that way?

The two old friends were so wrapped up in their reunion, they’d forgotten they weren’t the only people in the deserted bar until Sweet cleared his throat. Michael broke his focus on the dark chocolate eyes staring up at him and released Liz from his embrace, turning to Sweet.

“Damn Sweet, I’m sorry,” he took Liz’s hand and guided her down the stairs for introductions, “Manners have never been my strong suit.”

“Amen.” Liz and Sweet said in unison, causing them all to laugh. Seems Michael hadn’t completely changed everything about himself.

Sweet set down the broom and took Liz’s hand in his own, “Sweet, this is Liz…” Michael began, but stopped, widening his eyes, unsure of what name Liz was going by now. When she was married to Max it had been Phillips, homage to Max’s father, but she’d said she’d been on the run since leaving Max. She was bound to have changed it in that time.
“Jeffries.” Liz provided, winking at Michael, “ Liz Jeffries. I went back to my maiden name. Phillips doesn’t fit anymore. Or at least it stopped a long time ago.” Michael smiled; Liz had adopted her father’s name as her own, and so in a small way she really had taken her old name back. Seemed fitting.

Sweet pretended not to notice the secret smile that passed between Michael and Liz, shaking the girl’s hand gently, “Well it nice to meet you Ms. Jeffries. Melvin Walker Johnston, but everyone calls me Sweet. And anyone who can unravel the mystery of my boss here, is someone worth knowing.”

Liz arched an eyebrow at the old man, “Now if you know anything about Michael, Mr. Johnston, Sweet, you know he loves being a mystery.” She grinned leaning into whisper, “He likes to keep people guessing.”

“And the crankiness?” Sweet asked as they both looked Michael over.

“Oh that’s real, but I’m sure you know by now, it’s one of his more charming features.”

Sweet laughed heartily, “You most definitely have spent time with Boss man here. Although, how he left a beautiful thing like you behind, is a mystery that needs some solving.”

“Well, there’s no mystery as to why you are called Sweet.” She mused at the old honey dripper.

“Okay, old timer,” Michael said pulling Liz gently away from Sweet, “No flirting with women nearly three times your junior. Her heart couldn’t take it.”

“Can I help it if the ladies love me?” Sweet asked holding his hands up in mock innocence.

“I’ll make sure to ask your four ex-wives, Sweet.” Michael joked, before turning his attention back to Liz, “Look, I gotta finish the books, but after that we can catch up. Where are you staying?”

“Shit son,” Sweet shook his head, “Go on up to your place, I’ll close up. You two have a lot to catch up on.”

“You sure?” Michael asked Sweet.

“Go on, Michael before I smack you on the head with this here broom. It’ll be a cheap thrill for this old timer, I haven’t ever seen you take a lady up to…”

“Uh…Thanks Sweet. See you tomorrow.” Michael interrupted, dragging Liz with him outside to her car.

“Sure thing Son.” The old man chuckled, waving at Liz as she tried to keep up with Michael’s long strides, “Welcome to New Orleans Ms. Jeffries.” He called out.
Once outside Michael immediately found Liz’s Jeep, worn and dirty from many months spent on the road, “I just got into town, Michael. Where’s a good place to stay?”

“With me.” Michael told her opening the back to the car and taking out her belongings.

“Michael, I don’t want to put you out…” Liz argued.

“Liz, I have three bedrooms one of which I’m not using and I told you to come find me. Now, if Max is still looking for you. You are staying with me.” He said emphatically.

“Michael,” Liz sighed, loving the fact that there were parts of his old persona he’d managed to hold onto, no matter how boorish they were, it was what made him Michael. “I don’t need you to protect me from Max…”

“I know that.” Michael said putting the bags down on the ground to scratch his eyebrow, “It’s just been so long since I was able to protect anyone besides myself, it just feels right. Please. Stay with me?”


Liz swallowed back the lump in her throat. It had felt like only yesterday that she’d told Michael to go without her and she’d watched his tail lights disappear into the darkness along with a piece of her heart. Now, here they stood a few years older and definitely wiser and he was asking her to stay with him. In some ways it was if time had stood still and they were still those same two teenagers standing in the darkness on the edge of discovery and in others it had been a million years. They were both very different people now leading very different lives, could their paths meet? Or would they merely pass each other by?

“Liz?” Michael asked seeing the far off look in her eye.

Liz shook her head of her thoughts and wiped at her eyes, “Sorry. Um, I’ll stay with you.”

Michael smiled and picked her bags up again, motioning with his head for her to follow him up the stairs to his apartment. Liz took a moment to look him over and giggle. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She shook her head, “It’s just you look the same as you did the night you left. The long hair, the clothes…”

“For one thing the hair was never getting cut short again. Spikes were the statement of my youth. Besides chicks dig long hair…or so I’m told.” He explained as they climbed the stairs, “Besides, It’s only been five years.”

“It’s been a lifetime, Michael.” Liz said quietly and bit mournfully as they stopped at the landing.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, “I guess you’re right.” He looked her over again, “But you still look the same Liz.” Then paused, “I take that back. You look… freer.”

Liz smiled, “I am.”

Michael opened the door to the apartment and let Liz go in first while he carried in her bags. Liz could hardly believe her eyes when she took in the spacious apartment. It was a far cry from the government subsidized one bedroom he had back in Roswell. From the shiny hardwood floors, the crystal chandelier above the large dining room table to the enormous chef grade kitchen, it was spartanly decorated, but it all screamed Michael. It was simply amazing.

“Michael…” she said, almost breathlessly, “How did you…I mean the bar…and this place? How…?”

Michael smirked, “How can I afford it?”

Liz nodded dumbly, embarrassed for asking Michael such a question. Michael shook his head at her, telling her not to be embarrassed. It’s not exactly like he’d ever been good with his money before, but time on the road and a little maturity had taught Michael the value of a dollar.

“I’ll show you.” He said cryptically, “After I put your stuff in your room.”

“Okay.” Liz agreed and followed him down the hall.

The first room they passed was small, the large unkempt bed taking up most of the room. It was obviously his. Liz chuckled to herself at the laundry strewn about the room, yet another sign that with Michael, old habits died hard. You can’t teach a perpetual slob new tricks. She wouldn’t want to.

She saw him disappear into the room a few feet down the hall from his. He set her bags on the neatly made double bed and passed his hand over the night stand and dresser, removing the layers of dust, “Sorry.” He said sheepishly, “I don’t exactly get a lot of guests.”

Liz looked around the room, it was the same size and design as his, just looked less used. The walls were a pale blue and were a bit bare, but clean.

“You can fix it up however you want or I can do it for you…I mean I don’t know how your powers…” He stuttered.

Liz grinned placing her hand on the wall, minute later a deep green replaced the pale blue, “I’ve been working on them.”

“Martha Stewart has nothing on you.” Michael joked.

Liz said she would unpack later and Michael quickly took her hand, “Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see.” Michael said with an air of mystery.

“Michael, its one-o-clock in the morning…not my best mystery solving hour.” Liz mock whined.

“Keep your panties on, Parker.” He threw back as he tool her to the last bedroom at the end of the hall.

He opened the door and Liz followed him inside. It was obviously the master bedroom, but Michael had converted into a studio for his art. Canvas, oil, acrylic and watercolor paints were strewn about the area along with numerous sketchpads, charcoal and pastels. He had about five unfinished pieces on the floor depicting the city they way he saw it, vibrant, alive, organic.

“God Michael…you kept up with your art…Are you selling these?” Liz said in amazement.

“Like hotcakes.” he said proudly, “Sweet, ‘discovered’, me not long after I got here. We were working in the same bar and he sorta stumbled onto my stuff. That man knows just about everyone in this damn town and introduced me to a friend of his. Gallery owner. She went nuts and took everything I had. The first batch I sold let me put a down payment on this building.”

Liz studied some of the finished pieces recognizing places she’d seen on her way through the Big Easy. Her eye caught one theme throughout each piece. Amid all the bright colors and lights was a small woman, seemingly walking away through each piece, her long dark hair caught on the breeze. Everyone in the pictures was either sitting or standing in and their faces were visible, but her. Liz couldn’t help but feel a kinship to this girl.

“Michael…is the m…” she started to ask, but Michael cleared his throat loudly and pointed at the large bay window, “I…uh… have a balcony. Do most of my sketching out there.”

He walked over to the French doors and threw them open gesturing for Liz to step outside. Forgetting her earlier question about the woman in the painting, she stepped out onto the first balcony she’d been on in six years.

“God, I missed this.” She said wistfully staring out onto the city. Her eye caught something off to the side and she giggled, “A lawn chair huh?”

“What?” Michael asked scratching his eyebrow, “It’s comfortable.”

Liz wiped her brow of the sweat that sparkled on it, “Well you went from the dry heat of the desert to the humid heat of the bayou.”

Michael shrugged his shoulders, “You get used to it. Besides, I figure New Orleans was made for an alien like me. I can eat all the hot food I want and not have people look at me twice.”

Liz laughed, “I remember you saying that when we first left Roswell.”
“Yeah, but Max said it was stupid reason and we wound up in Colorado.” Michael pointed out.

Liz nodded wiping her brow again. Michael realized, while he’d had time to adjust to the heat and humidity of a New Orleans mid-summer night, Liz had been traveling all over the place and hadn’t adjusted to much of anything.

“I got some lemonade in the fridge,” he told her, “Kind of a staple around here. You want some?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Liz accepted, “You mind if I stay out here…it’s been so long since…”

Michael nodded quickly, realizing how the balcony reminded her of the parents she’d left behind in Roswell and probably hadn’t seen since they left, “Then you can tell me what’s been going on in your life.” He said.

“You have a lifetime?” Liz called out to Michael’s retreating form.

“Lived two, Liz… think I can spare another.” He answered.

~*~

When Michael returned to the balcony with a pitcher full of lemonade and two glasses filled with ice, he found Liz curled up on the lawn chair staring up at the sky. She must have heard the clomping of his Doc Martens on the wood floor because she started talking before he reached the open doors.

“So Michael… Joyce huh?” She mused, “Well, I like it. Much better than Michael Hetfield, anyway.”

Michael rolled his eyes at her as he pulled out a chair from inside the studio and handed her a glass, “Hetfield, was a great name, but it was one of my youth. I wanted something that spoke of my adulthood.” He said with comical pomposity.

Liz laughed, “ I shouldn’t tease. Since I left Max, I’ve been Liz Curie, Pasteur, Saulk and Faulkner.”

“Jeffries is good name Liz.” Michael told her, “It suits you.”

“Well part of finding the new me, has to be rooted in who I was.” She said seriously, “If I can’t keep Parker, I might as well take some part of my parents.”

Michael nodded his understanding and they sat in silence for a few minutes, the ever-present question burning on Michael’s tongue. When the silence became too much he finally broke.

“Liz, why did you finally leave? I mean, what happened that made you decide to walk away?” he asked.
Liz hung her head for a moment and Michael watched fresh tears spring to her eyes immediately regretting asking her, “Shit Liz, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer…”

Liz held up her hand, “No it’s okay, Michael.” She wiped her eyes taking a deep breath, “A big part of the why I left was for me. You and I both know how much I was suffocating… But what made me finally walk away… was Alexis.”

“Alexis?” Michael asked puzzled then felt his anger rise, “Who the hell is Alexis? Some girl Max cheated on you with?”

Liz shook her head; slightly amused that Michael would get so riled on her behalf, “No. Nothing like that.” Another tear feel down her cheek and she wiped it away, “Alexis is your niece, Michael.”

~*~

TBC…

[Peachykin]

Chapter 3

“My niece?” Michael asked stunned. If he had a niece that could only mean one of two things and he could barely allow himself to believe it, “Liz? Did you and Max have a…”

Liz shook her head emphatically, “No. No, Michael. Alexis, is Kyle and <i>Isabel’s</i> daughter. They got married about three years ago and Miss Alexis Michaela James, made her grand entrance a little over a year later.” Her voice caught with emotion, “She’d be two by now.”

Michael could hardly believe what he was hearing and a strange sense of relief that the child wasn’t Liz and Max’s. “Alexis Michaela? After Alex and…me?”

Liz nodded and smiled, “Yeah. You know you’re Isabel’s brother too. She misses you. She understands, but she still misses you.”

“I miss them too.” Michael said regretfully, then his eyes widened as something Liz said, and the sorrowful tone of her voice, caught up with him, “D-Did something happen to Alexis? You said ‘She’d be two by now.’ I mean, is she d…” His heart constricted already breaking for the niece he might never know.

Liz’s own eyes widened at what Michael had thought, “Oh God! No Michael. She’s perfectly healthy. I just miss her is all. I was there or the first year of her life and now I’ve missed one.” When she saw Michael let out a relieved breath she continued, laughing softly, “You’d love her, Michael. She has a smile that lights up the room. Reminds me a lot of Kyle. Keeps Isabel on her toes.”

Michael could help but share in Liz’s laughter, “I would expect the spawn of Kyle Valenti…I mean, Kyle James, to do nothing less.” He scratched his eyebrow, “I don’t suppose you have any pictures do you?”

Liz stood up, pulling a worn photo out of her back pocket, handing it to him. It was a candid, “family” shot, obviously taken by Max, as Liz Isabel, Kyle and a smiling baby girl, Alexis, were huddled into the picture. She was a pretty little thing, light brown, loosely curled hair and a toothy grin, well as toothy as a still teething child could be. But what also stuck Michael about the picture was Liz’s smile. It seemed genuine, unforced. She was looking down at Alexis, the little girl, Michael imagined, being the only one who could get her to smile like that. It was stunning.

After staring at the picture for another minute, Liz spoke, “That was taken at her first birthday party,” she told him, “I have a whole album full of photos you can look at later. I mean if you want to.”

Michael nodded, still smiling down at the photo, “I’d like that.” He chuckled, “Alexis is beautiful, like Isabel. But you’re right, she does have Kyle’s smile. She is definitely going to be trouble.”

Liz saw the sadness in Michael’s eyes at missing out on his niece’s life. Michael had always been great with kids, despite his gruff exterior. She surmised it had something to do with having little or no childhood of his own.

“Alexis knows who you are, Michael.” She told him, knowing he needed to hear it.

Michael looked up at her in confusion, “She does? How?”

“Pictures Isabel and I have of you.” Liz explained, “When I left she was just learning how to talk, but she calls you ‘Unca Grumpy’. Because in nearly every picture you’re scowling.”

Michael snorted, but knew it was probably accurate, “Thanks, I mean for telling her about me.”

“You’re her family, Michael. It’s important she at least knows about you.” Liz said gently.

He tried to hand the picture back to Liz, but she waved him off telling him to hold onto it. He thanked her, then shook his head as he looked at again, “Kyle and Isabel James…. and parents to boot. I can’t believe it. I mean I had a feeling they might hook up, but…Wow. The whole domesticated life?”

Liz laughed, she too had been amazed by Kyle and Isabel’s transformation and she’d seen it with her own eyes, “Yeah, but it really suits them. Kyle owns an auto shop; makes decent money and Isabel works part-time at an interior design firm, but Alexis is their life. Kyle is such a great dad. And Isabel… you’d hardly recognize her Michael. She gets down in the mud and plays with her. Finger paints, food fights…”

Michael’s jaw dropped, “You mean Isabel actually gets…messy?”

Liz nodded proudly, “Gone are the days of designer handbags and two hundred dollar shoes. She’s a down and dirty jeans and t-shirt mommy now. Her job at the design firm gives her all the fashion fix she needs.”

“Well, they say parenthood changes you.” Michael observed.

“Yeah.” Liz replied quietly and a bit mournfully. “I left two weeks after that photo was taken.”

Michael tore his eyes away from the photo to see the smile Liz had been wearing a moment early had faded. It had obviously torn Liz apart to leave the little sprite, “Liz? If you loved Alexis so much, what about her made you leave?”

Liz shook her head and sat back down facing Michael, “It wasn’t Alexis’ fault I left. If anything, she made it more difficult to leave.” She sighed heavily, “I’m not explaining this very well. I’m sorry.” She bit her lips against the tears she was fighting.

On instinct, Michael took her hands in his own, a small gesture of reassurance, “You’re doing fine.”
Liz smiled slightly and took a calming breath, “It wasn’t so much Alexis, specifically. It was what her birth brought out in Max.” she explained.

Michael could practically hear the autopilot switch on inside Liz. He had always hated it when she did that, and she’d done it a lot in the months before he left the group, but he knew if she were going to get through her story, she’d have to try and detach herself a bit.

“When Isabel got pregnant,” Liz began, “Max was furious to say the least. He felt that she and Kyle should have learned from his experience with Tess and Zan, that our lives are far too dangerous to bring a baby in to.”

Michael raised an eyebrow; “I’m guessing Mr. and Mrs. James set him straight about that?” He knew at least Isabel, wouldn’t take crap from Max, especially when it came to her life…and her body.

“Oh, there were more than a few screaming matches and royal tantrums on both sides.” Liz confirmed, “Kyle even decked Max one night.”

Michael couldn’t help blurting out an amused laugh, but apologized quickly. Liz shook her head, “Don’t be sorry. I won’t repeat what he said, but sufficed to say, Max deserved it.”

“So what happened after Alexis was born?” Michael pressed.

“Alexis, like Kyle and Isabel, is the consummate charmer, and knows how to wrap any man around her tiny, little finger; Max was no exception.” Liz said with a genuine smile, but it quickly faded, “Max saw that we could lead normal lives, have families. The FBI or extraterrestrial enemies stopped looking for us a long time ago. Seeing Kyle, Isabel and Alexis…it made Max realize what he’d given up when he put Zan up for adoption.”

Michael ran a hand over his face roughly, knowing what was coming next, “Oh Christ…”

“Yeah… He wanted us to start a family of our own.” Liz said mournfully, “Things were falling apart between Max and I before you left, Michael. You saw it yourself. You can just imagine how it had deteriorated even more over the years. How could I possibly even consider the idea of bringing a child into a marriage that had died years ago?”

“What did you tell him?” Michael asked, wondering how the hell Liz had managed to get out of that situation.

“I told him I wasn’t ready yet.” Liz explained, “That there were things I still wanted to do… He was disappointed, of course, but I think he just figured I needed a little more time and that eventually I’d be ready. The truth was…”

“You never would be.” Michael finished. How could Max expect her to… was he really that blind?

Liz nodded silently, “It worked for about six months and Alexis actually provided Max with his ‘baby’ fix, but every time we’d go back to our house after visiting her… I could tell it was weighing on Max. And he’s never really been that patient. So he started bringing it up again.”

“And when Max gets an idea in his head…” Michael rolled his eyes.

“He’s immoveable. He became obsessed, Michael.” Liz concurred with a heavy sigh. She stood up off the chair and leaned against the balcony railing, “Of course the fact that we hadn’t had sex since he’d first brought up having a baby didn’t exactly escape his notice either. By the time I left it had been nearly a year. Figures that would agitate him.”

“Pffft. Try more than five years without it. Now <i>that’s</i> agitation.” Michael muttered a little too loudly.

Liz turned around, her eyes wide, “You mean…you haven’t had…since…”

“Since before Maria left? Yeah.” Michael said, his face reddening. He cleared his throat, “But we’re not talking about me right now. So…what was the final straw with Max? I mean I can tell you loved Alexis…and Kyle and Isabel.”

Liz pushed off the balcony railing settling back on the lawn chair, staring up at the stars as she remembered the night that closed the chapter of Max Evans in her life.

“We’d just come back from Alexis’ birthday party and Max started in on me again about a baby the second we stepped inside the house. He said ‘It was time to get serious and a start a family of our own instead of living through Kyle and Isabel. Besides, Alexis needs a cousin, Liz. Someone to play with.’

He said a baby would ‘…bring us closer together. Fix the problems we’ve been having.’ He felt he had something missing from his life since giving Zan up, and that a baby of our own might help fill that empty space. Space? It was a fucking chasm nothing could fill.” The anger in her voice palpable, “It was all the same arguments he made before…just more <i>adamantly.</i>

“So…He figured what? He could bully you into having a baby?” Michael asked, incredulous that Max would do that to Liz. You couldn’t just force someone to have a baby against her will?

“Why not?” Liz said sarcastically, “ I’d let him bully me into giving up on all of my dreams. Why not one more thing? Remember me Liz Phillips… no spine included.”

A fear gripped Michael at what Max might have been capable of and she has said he was… “Adamant”. “Liz? Did Max…did he hurt you at all?”

Liz sat up, her heart softening at the concern she read on Michael’s face. They’d all felt the brunt end of Max’s notorious temper at one time or another. When backed into a corner, he tended to lash out violently.
Liz shook her head, “Sorta... I mean, I don’t know. He grabbed me, hard, and shook me.” She unconsciously rubbed her upper arms, still feeling the bruises Max’s crushing and angry grip had left behind, even a year later. “He demanded to know the real reason why I had been putting him off and that he’d indulged me for too long.”

She took a heavy breath, before continuing, “How could I bring a child into that? I snapped. Told him how dead I was inside and that not only had I stopped loving myself, but also I had long since stopped loving him. That there was no way in hell I could have a baby with him. Ever.”

“Wow.” Michael said numbly, “I’m betting Max didn’t take that well.”

“To say the least.” Liz confirmed, her brow furrowing, ‘But something happened Michael. He got so quiet. I’ll never forget it. I have never heard a silence like that.”

“Calm before the storm?” Michael provided, remembering the hushed way Max liked to fume before exploding completely.

“Kinda.” She replied, “He let go of my arms and just sat in his armchair. Just still. I don’t even think he breathed. Then an hour later he snapped his fingers and stood up. He started pacing back and forth frantically. He said we could get marriage counseling and that we could find our way back to each other. Then we could start a family.”

Liz let out a frustrated growl as every word of that conversation came back to her, “I knew then that Max would <i>never</i>give up and while, somehow, I had justified sacrificing my own happiness, I could never subject an innocent child to that.”

“I’m sorry, Liz.” Michael whispered, now regretting ever leaving her on those porch steps all those years ago. He should have stayed and protected her.

“I knew that night I had to find a way to leave. So, for the next two weeks I planned and packed. With a little help from Kyle and Isabel, I pulled off a Michael. No note. No letter. Just disappeared into the night.” She told him.

“Kyle and Isabel helped you leave Max?” Michael asked a little stunned.

Liz nodded, “They knew how unhappy I was and when I told them Max’s plan… they didn’t want to see me go, but they knew I had no other options, so they helped.” Liz wiped tears away from her eyes, “I call them when I can, to let them know I’m okay and to check on Alexis.”

“Does Max know anything? What does he think happened?” Michael asked, trying to gauge what kind of threat Max might be, if at all.

“He doesn’t know why I left, even though everyone else does. For a while he thought I’d been kidnapped, until Isabel finally told him that she had heard from me and that I was fine. Up until that point he couldn’t be convinced that I’d left of my own free will. Kyle says that just made him want to look harder, so we could work things out.” She said, wearing the frustration in her body language and in her voice.

Michael shook his head, “So, you’ve been running this whole time?”

“Not really.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Max has never really come close to finding me. Kyle and Isabel usually give me a heads up if he’s getting too close and I move on. I wanted to find a place that fit you know? A place where I can face him, and when he finds me, it's because I let him. Besides, I have to get a divorce eventually.”

“Yeah.” Michael agreed, “You know, New Orleans is a great lady. And if you treat her right, she’ll do right by you. Sweet told me that when we met and I’ll be damned if he wasn’t right.”

Liz chuckled, “You sound like a local.”

Michael shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve kinda become one. This is home. A little on the lonely side, but it’s home. So, what’s mine is yours for as long as you like. If you need to move on at some point I won’t stop you.”

“I know.” Liz said unconsciously placing her hand on his knee, the gave him an amused smile, “Since when did you learn how to share?”

Michael kept a straight face, holding her eyes with his own, “Since I stopped having anyone to share anything with.” He saw Liz’s loss for words and he realized what he’d said held a little more meaning for himself than he’d intended, even if it was the truth.

He shifted in his chair and swiftly changed the subject, “So, where did you go when you left? Your parents? Maria?”

Liz let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and took her hand off Michael’s knee when he shifted, trying to focus on his words, “My parents? No. I call them from various places, but I haven’t seen them since we all left. We all hate it, but until we’re sure the FBI has stopped watching them…” her voice choked at the sadness of missing her parents, but she quickly pushed it aside, “As for Maria. No. That would have been the first place Max would have looked. And while I adore the diva, she would have told him where I was.”

“Still needing to believe in perfect love.” Michael scoffed.

Liz rolled her eyes, “Lofty ideal, but there’s no such thing. It shouldn’t be perfect, where’s the fun? But I don’t love Max anymore, and neither he nor Maria can accept that. Not exactly the environment needed to find ones self.”

“To say the least.” Michael added.

“Anyway,” Liz continued, “When I left, I took about half of our savings and just traveled. Trying to figure out who I am <i>without</i>Max. I needed to find out if Liz Jeffries has the same dreams Liz Parker did. Which I do, but I found some new ones and I’m letting go of some old ones. I knew that’s what I had to do before I really started looking for ‘Ulysses’. Turns out in a way, Ulysses found me.”

“Ah,” Michael said folding his hands, “Kyle would call the karmic direction.”

“Or one hell of a coincidence. Either way, I think I’m supposed to be here now. It feels right.” She said taking the last sip of her sweltering lemonade.

Michael merely nodded, keeping his gratefulness at her presence to himself at the moment. But something did bother him a bit, “I know I told you to find me, Liz…and I knew someday you might, but why would you want to?”

Liz looked up at him in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

Michael scratched his eyebrow, trying to find the right words, “Like it or not, I’m part of that old life that dragged you down. I’m a constant reminder of the precise moment your life changed. I guess I figured part of you independence would mean avoiding reminders like me. I mean, I would have understood.”

Liz smiled, Michael still wore his insecurities on his sleeve, and she was grateful that part of him hadn’t changed. Here he was offering her a place in his home, and in a sense his life and he was worried about intruding on hers.

“You are right in more ways than one, Michael.” She told him cryptically, “Yes, you are a part of that old life, but a good part. In finding my new future I have to look to my past and one thing I found that had been a constant, was you. I realized I counted on you more than anyone, even Max. With you there were no pretenses and niceties. You lay it all out on the table no matter what.

So, blow me a way when I discover, that upon reflection, you didn’t hate me or resent me, at least not after a while. You always had my back, believed in me, even when it scared you to do so. Not because you felt you had to, but because you wanted to.”

“Well, and don’t go spreading this around,” Michael whispered, “more often than not…you were right, Liz.” He hung his head for moment then looked back up, “But I stopped being your constant when I left.”

Liz shook her head in disagreement, “Even when you left, you showed me that freedom, and life without Max was possible. I didn’t know where you were or if you had found any kind of happiness, but just knowing someone I knew was really free… that got me through the years and helped me eventually get away. If I didn’t know it was possible…I might not have done it.”

“Yeah you would have.” Michael countered, “You’re a lot stronger than you realize. I told you that when I left. I still mean it. You can be strong without me in your life.”

“I know I can, Michael. I have been for the past year.” She looked heavenward to pluck some kind of answer from the sky, but found nothing, “I don’t pretend to know why I need you in my life. I just know I do. Your’s is the one friendship I have truly missed over these past five years…” she ran a hand through her hair in frustration, “I’m not making any kind of sense am I?”

“You are.” Michael reassured her, giving her a patented Guerin smirk, “I missed you too, Parker.”

“Jeffries. Mr. Joyce.” Liz corrected with a smile, “Jeffries.”

“You’ll always be Parker to me, Liz.” He countered.

Liz could no longer stifle her fatigue and let out a rather large yawn. Michael realized how tired she must have been and stood up off his chair extending his hand, “Let’s get you to bed. Bar doesn’t open until eleven anyway. We can talk more in the morning.”

Liz took his hand graciously, more than ready for what she knew would be her first good night’s sleep since he’d left her all those years earlier. She wasn’t sure why, but she kept her hand locked with Michael’s as they walked through the studio and into the hallway until they were in front of her room. It was almost as if she was afraid that if she took her hand away, he might disappear. In the past year she had enjoyed her freedom, independence and discovery, but she found that she’d really missed the comfort and safety Michael’s presence provided her with.

Michael opened the door to Liz’s room for her and she stepped inside, releasing his hand. He shook his head as he watched her seat herself on the bed, “I still can’t believe you’re here, Liz.”

“Me either.” She laughed, then bit her lip, “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah.” Michael said confidently, reassuring her, “ It’s okay. Really. It’s kinda nice to have the company. Sweet’s a great friend, but he has a terrible body.” He half joked, “ Now, get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Liz nodded with a yawn, and then remembered something else, calling out to Michael as he was closing the door behind him, “Michael?”

“Yeah?” he asked, popping his head back into the room.

“Um, that waitress job… Is it still open?” she asked a bit nervously.

“Nope.” Michael said shaking his head, “Already filled it.”

Liz’s shoulders sagged in disappointment and she avoided his eyes, “Oh…well then I’ll guess I’ll find something…”
“Liz.” Michael chuckled, “You start tomorrow night.”

Liz smiled brightly for a moment, before glaring comically at the tall man’s amusement. She grabbed a pillow, throwing at Michael’s well coiffed noggin, mussing the hair before he ducked.

“Jerk.” She muttered, trying not to laugh.

Michael laughed heartily, and then winked at her, “You know you love me.” He said shutting the door before she could reload.

“Or I could” Liz whispered wistfully.

“If only you could.” Michael mumbled, on the other side of the door, before retiring to his room.

~*~
TBC…


Chapter 4

Despite getting to bed late the night before, Michael rose early the next morning, out of habit. The mornings were his best creative time. He’d spend hours in his studio painting and sketching, Sweet even got him to try sculpture. Clay was fun, but he really enjoyed marble. Chipping away and smoothing a piece of stone into something beautiful. The metaphor wasn’t lost on him.

Michael’s paintings were in demand at the moment and he had a show in one of Sweet’s “lady friend’s”, Miriam, gallery next month. He had plenty of pieces for the show and he knew they’d sell, but lately they hadn’t been giving him the sense of satisfaction he used to get from them. He felt, bored, uninspired and idle. He felt like he was just churning out what people wanted, instead of painting for himself. But while he wasn’t happy with what he’d been putting out, at least it was something. It wasn’t as though he’d felt inspired to really create anything new and his sculptures were far too amateurish to even consider showing.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and headed for the studio. He didn’t really feel like drawing or painting, so he grabbed an old sketchpad and sat on the balcony and decided to wait for inspiration to come to him. But all he could think about was the dark haired girl still fast asleep in his guest room.

Michael knew Liz would never let him regret leaving, but after hearing how suffocating her life had become with Max, he couldn’t help but wonder if things might have been different, better for her, if he’d stayed. At least then she would have had someone to stand up for her. And he would have.

“But then Liz wouldn’t have stood up for herself.” He muttered to no one.

Michael flipped open the sketchbook finding he’d grabbed the one he’d managed to take out maybe once a year, just for sentimental reasons. It was worn and the pages had yellowed with age and from the humid bayou air, but the drawings inside never lost their luster.

He should have thrown it out for the pain it caused him to look at it, but he needed to remember her face. Every page was filled with Liz’s face, as he remembered her, sad, but still with a little glimmer left in her eyes. She was all he could draw the first six months after he left. He had no photos of her, or any of the group, but she stood out in his mind so vividly that he had to preserve her on those pages with charcoal. It was no mystery to as to why. Michael missed the hell out of Liz.

But one morning, after Michael had first arrived in New Orleans, he drew his final sketch of the girl who haunted his heart. He realized that he’d never truly begin his new life if he couldn’t let go of his old one. He’d never forget Liz; she was permanently etched on his heart and he didn’t need a drawing to see her.

Michael ran a finger over the lines of the final sketch. It was Liz, the last night he saw her. Her hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders and her tiny body was wrapped in that worn out robe. Her arms were wrapped her waist looking as if she wanted to disappear inside herself. Her dark eyes were glistening with tears, for him, and her lips… those lips, swollen with their kiss.
The kiss. The one he could still taste, and feel the softness of her lips against his, five years later, even stronger now that Liz was there. They hadn’t talked about it last night and in a way Michael was glad. When he’d kissed Liz that night he’d thought it was goodbye, but instead it woke something up in him. He crossed the lines of friendship in so many ways with that kiss, but he would never have taken it back, because it was then he realized he loved her.

Somewhere between the day she was shot in the Crashdown to that night on the porch, Michael had fallen in love with Liz. What Michael didn’t realize until that kiss, was that Liz, or at least a part of her, loved him back.

Michael had told himself that it was just going to be one kiss, one less regret, a need to taste what he could never, in is mind, have. But then she had to go return the kiss. Liz loved him. She couldn’t say it, but did he ever feel it.

Michael knew then, it wouldn’t be the last time he saw Liz. It’s why he asked her to look for him when she found her feet, to “Find Ulysses.” He wanted her to know that when she did leave Max, that she wouldn’t be alone and that someone out there would be waiting for the woman she could become, once she found her strength.

It had taken five long years, but here she was, back in Michael’s life, filling a void he hadn’t realized existed until he held her in his arms again. But she also wasn’t the same woman he imagined she could become. God, she was so much better. Stronger, happier, despite the pain, and most importantly, free.

Michael never forgot he loved her, he just set it aside to live his own life, but it slammed into him full force, the second he saw her reflection in the bar’s mirror, how much he wanted her in his life. But he also knew it was way too soon to even consider pursuing anything but a friendship with Liz at this point. Michael was still very guarded about giving away his heart, despite the ever-increasing hold Liz’s mere presence, had on it. He’d waited five years, he could wait longer.

Liz was still discovering who she was without Max. Not to mention the fact that she was still married to him. It might have been in name only, but married was married. The way she talked about Max the night before, he saw there was no love left for her husband, but for some reason Liz wasn’t ready to cut that final thread that tied her to Max. Michael knew it was because she was scared, not necessarily of Max, but of letting go of the very thing she gave up her “normal” life for.

Michael knew Liz, even after the years apart. She still had the same doubts she told him about when the two of them would sit on the roof of the house they’d all shared. If her marriage to Max failed, was it worth everything she sacrificed? Alex? Never seeing her parents? Never being able to go home? Giving up her education? It couldn’t have all been for nothing. Michael knew then that was what was holding her marriage together with a man she was falling out of love with, but was so proud of her for leaving despite those same questions.
Michael also had questions he knew Liz couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer for him. He needed to talk to someone who was there during the years he’d missed, someone who was inside the group, but outside Max and Liz’s relationship. And he knew there was only one person who fit that description.

He quickly finished his coffee, already having forgone his ritual of painting that morning, and went back into the apartment. He knew Liz was the only one who would have the phone number he needed, but she was still sleeping and he didn’t exactly want her to know whom he was calling. Not yet anyway.

Michael knew that Liz kept her address book in her purse and the last place he’d seen that was on the armchair in her room. This was going to require covert actions, and he was a little out of practice. But it was like riding a bike, right? God, he hoped so.

Trying to be as stealthy as possible, Michael carefully opened Liz’s door. Cursing under his breath at the creaking the hinges made. Looking across the room he spotted her purse on the armchair and slipped into the room, absently letting his eyes fall to a slumbering Liz. Maybe those teachers in elementary school were right; if you keep staring straight ahead, you’ll be less distracted. And Liz made for quite a distraction, as Michael’s breath caught at the simple glimpse of her sleeping peacefully.

She laid on her stomach, obviously naked, the olive skin of her bare back bathing in the morning sun, and the sheets gathered at her waist. Her impossibly long hair spilled all around her, wisps of it floating in the gentle breeze of her bedside fan. Michael could just make out the curve of the underside of one breast when he forced himself to close his eyes, though it did little good. His artists mind had already imprinted her every line, curve, and dip into the forbidden, onto his brain.

Michael forgot the universal truth when it came to sleeping in bayou country. No one wore pajamas to bed, especially in the summer. Hell, he didn’t either. It was far too muggy and sticky for anything aside from a sheet. He just hadn’t counted on seeing so much of Liz’s body when he walked in or he might have just saved his phone call for later.

But it was too late now; he was already in the room and more than obviously affected by seeing so much of Liz’s skin. He could have dismissed his physical reaction as a result of his self-imposed celibacy, but he wouldn’t cheapen her beauty like that. Liz was just that simply beautiful and he’d have to be stone cold dead, not to be affected by her.

Michael’s eyes flew open when Liz began to shift and mumble incoherently, as she sensed another presence in the room. Remembering why he was there, Michael grabbed Liz’s purse and darted out of the room before she could turn over.

Once he’d shut the door, Michael leaned his forehead against it, hearing Liz settle back into sleep. While his hormone driven body was chastising him for not at least getting a glimpse of the full body Liz, he knew by his suddenly labored breathing, that it might have been too much for him.
“That was dangerous.” He whispered, shaking his head.

Yeah, Michael Joyce’s life was considerably different than Michael’s Guerin’s, when the biggest danger in Joyce’s life was a naked Liz…Jeffries.

Removing himself from the temptation Ms. Jeffries unwittingly provided, Michael settled himself in the kitchen, pulling out the red address book from the purse. As he opened it to the name he sought a sudden fear gripped at him. It had been five years since they’d heard anything from him and he was just calling out of the clear blue sky? Would they even want to talk to him? What was he thinking?

Just as Michael was talking himself out of making the call, a picture tucked into the book fell into his hands. He held it up, immediately captured by the utterly charming little girl staring back at him. Isabel must have sent it to Liz at her last stop. He flipped the photo over and read the writing on the back:

Alexis Michaela James: Age 2

Auntie Liz,
We miss you.
Kyle, Isabel and Alexis




Michael’s trepidation was still there, but even in just a picture Alexis had already wrapped her Uncle Michael around her dainty pinky. If only for that little sprite, Michael could stop being afraid of his past and those he left behind. He picked up the phone, dialing the number, unconsciously holding his breath.

After two rings, Michael glanced up at the clock, admonishing himself. They were at least an hour behind him and he was probably going to wake them up. He was about to hang up when a chipper little voice answered the phone.

“Hi!” the child said, “Whatcha want?”

Michael’s eyes widened and a smile crept on his face as he realized who he was talking to, “Uh…Alexis. Is your mommy or daddy around?”

“Mommy workin’. Daddy’s watchin’ cartoons wit me.” The little girl replied.

“Lexi…” Michael heard Kyle grumble in the background, “Give Daddy the phone.”
“No Daddy. I talkin’.” Alexis said obstinately, before turning her attention back to her caller, “Who dis?” Definitely Isabel’s daughter

“Um… my name is Mich…” he paused, grinning, “This is your Uncle Grumpy.” He took the phone away from his ear at the child’s high-pitched squeal.

“When you come see me?” Alexis asked her uncle when he managed to put his ear back to the phone. He could hear Kyle in the background demanding the phone from his precocious child.

“Sorry, Alexis. I just don’t know.” Michael answered her honestly.

“Alexis James!” Kyle raised his voice, before giving her a surrendering sigh, “At least tell Daddy who it is.”

Michael chuckled as he heard Alexis growl in annoyance and he could practically see her rolling her eyes dismissively, just like Isabel, “It’s Unca Grumpy, Daddy. You go back to Scooby.”

Michael heard a “Holy. Fuck!” from Kyle and a sudden tussle for the phone.

“That really you Guerin?” Kyle asked, his shock obvious.

Michael was about to answer when he hear Alexis giggling in the background, chanting, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...” to the tune of <i>Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.</i>

“Lexi. No.” Kyle scolded her half-heartedly, “Daddy shouldn’t have said that. Please stop.”

Michael nearly fell off the chair when Lexi began to sing louder and as Kyle tried to stop his daughter’s bout with cursing.

“Baby girl.” Kyle pleaded with his daughter, “If you love your Daddy at all, you’ll stop. Or Mommy will cut off Daddy’s… well you won’t be getting a brother or sister, even if you ask Santa.”

Alexis stopped her blue tune immediately, “Kay, Daddy. Gonna watch Scooby. Bye Unca Grumpy!” Michael could hear here skipping away singing, “Daddy said a bad wo-rd.”

“I am such a dead man.” Kyle sighed into the phone, before perking up, “So. Michael. You don’t call. You don’t write. How the hell are ya? Where the hell are you? And most importantly…How’s Liz?”

Michael was a little thrown, but hearing no malice in Kyle’s voice he fell in step, “Phone calls are overrated and expensive. I hate writing my name, let alone a letter. I’m okay and in New Orleans. And Liz is sleeping, but how the hell did you know she was here?”

“Deduction, my wayward friend. I was raised by a sheriff you know?” Kyle quipped, “First, the only possible way you could know that Lexi calls you ‘Uncle Grumpy’, was if Liz told you and I just have a gut feeling Liz wouldn’t just call you. Second, I knew once Liz found your invisible ass; you’d call wanting the full skinny on the past five years. Or am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong.” Michael admitted.

“The third reason, “Kyle offered, “Is that out of all of us, I think Liz missed you the most. Or at least it became pretty damn obvious to those of us who were <i>not</i> Max.”

“What are you talking about? You know cryptic always annoyed me, Kyle.” Michael grumbled, trying to hide his curiosity

Kyle chuckled, “Okay. Okay. Well, the first clue was the day she went into town, shopping with Isabel, and came back with just about every Metallica album ever made. Liz Parker… Phillips…. Whatever, never gave Metallica a second listen until you left.”

Michael scratched his eyebrow; “I used to play them in the garage in the morning when I worked on the Nova, or in my room after work…”

“Yeah, well thanks a ton, because until Isabel and I got our own place we were rudely awakened every morning by <i>Master of Puppets</i>. When Max asked her to quit it she switched to <i>Unforgiven</i>. My particular favorite,” Kyle snickered, “was when she was pissed at Max, which was more often towards the end, she’d play <i>King Nothing</i>.”

Michael laughed loudly, clamping his hand over his mouth so as not to wake Liz, “I used to do that when Max pissed me off, and that was all the time.” He shook his head, “I still can’t believe she got into Metallica.”

“Believe it, Michael.” Kyle said emphatically, “Don’t believe me? Play some when she gets up. The woman knows every damn one of those songs by heart. And Liz mouthing the words to <i>Whiskey In the Jar</i>, is an experience not to be forgotten.”

“I’ll have to try that.” Michael said with an amused chuckle. “Not that a change in music taste proves anything, but what else?” he asked unable to hide his curiosity.

“Let’s see, there was the denim jacket, that you left behind. If she still has it, the thing is about ten sizes too big for her, because lets face it Michael, you’re a friggin’ giant compared to her, but it was practically the only coat she’d ever wear.”

“I wondered where that was.” Michael mused, wondering if Liz really did still have it with her. The thought alone of her scent mixing with his on the fabric nearly gave him goose bumps.

“I remember we were going out one night, I think it was when Isabel and I got engaged and Max shrunk the coat to fit her when she went to put it on.” Kyle half chuckled, “Dude, I have never seen Liz get that angry. Pure fury, man. We’re talking beyond a Maria-sized tantrum. She demanded he restore it, which he did, because he valued his own life, and I believe he slept on the couch for a couple nights after that.”

“Okay,” Michael said, trying not to sound amused, “I get it. She missed me.”

“To say the least.” Kyle said in mock exhaustion, “So, did you take on any Parker-esque traits when you left?” he teased.

Michael rolled his eyes, deciding against telling Kyle about his propensity to sit out on the balcony of his apartment and the reason he bought the particular building in the first place was for the balcony, “Uh yeah, I grew my hair down to my ass and I’ve started listening to chick rock.” He joked, “I’ve also taken an interest in molecular biology. I’m getting my doctorate some time next to never.”

Kyle knew Michael was covering any hidden truths with humor and also knew not to press, so he changed the subject, “So…Liz is sleeping huh?” he asked playfully, “Wear her out did ya?”

“Shut up Valen…I mean James. She walked into my bar late last night and we caught up a little. She’s staying in my guest bedroom.” Michael tossed back.

“For now.” Kyle coughed, and then quickly moved on before Michael could say anything, “You. Owning a bar? Wonder what Dr, Freud would have to say about?”

“He’d say I’m good with drunks.” Michael joked, then chuckled, “So you and Isabel huh?”

“Yeah.” Kyle said in a mock sheepish tone, “Finally gave into her incessant come-ons.”

“More like the other way around, Cowboy.” Michael returned.

Kyle laughed, “Okay so you’re right. Glad she did though, now I’ve got two girls attached to my name… well my dad’s… but you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. Uh…Lexi’s beautiful, man. Liz showed me a couple pictures. But I still can’t believe you’re a dad.” Michael said, amused.

“Me either.” Kyle laughed, “The fact that I’m responsible for another life is completely ridiculous. But God I love it.” He paused for a moment, “So, do you still go by Hetfield, or have you moved on to Ulrich, Hammet or maybe another band all together?”

“Joyce.” Michael provided.

“Joyce?” Kyle said in comical confusion, “Okay Miss, you win the prize for Most Changed. Geez, I’ve heard of going undercover Michael, but don’t you think that was taking it a bit too far?”
“Michael Joyce you idiot.” Michael snickered, “After James Joyce…the author.” He was met with silence, “<i>Ulysses</i>.”

Kyle snapped his fingers, “So that’s what that meant?”

“What are you talking about?” Michael asked.

Kyle sighed dramatically, “Well, since you’ve decided on popping out of the woodwork and all I might as well tell you the fourth reason I knew Liz was with you.”

“Please. Enlighten me.” Michael said, waiting for another round of Kyle’s playful sarcasm.

“Because Liz wasn’t the only one who saw you leave that night. I was coming back from Isabel’s room, nothing happened by the way, just talking. If you remember right, my bedroom window faced the driveway.”

“Oh.” Was all Michael could say realizing what Kyle had seen.

“Yeah. Oh.” Kyle replied, knowing he and Michael were on the same page, “I saw that kiss, Michael. Now, you know I’ve never bullshitted you. I think that’s why we got along so well. So, I gotta tell you what I saw between you and Liz that night sure as hell wasn’t, ‘Goodbye’. That was ‘I love you’, whether you want to admit it or not. Or am I wrong?”

This time Michael sighed, he never could bullshit Kyle, “You are definitely not wrong.”

~*~

TBC…

[Peachykin]

Chapter 5

“Wow,” Kyle said, in mild shock at the ease in which Michael had just admitted he was in love with Liz, “Time has really mellowed the perpetual grump, or at least eroded the chip on your shoulder. There’s no way you would have admitted that five years ago.”

“True.” Michael sighed, “Stonewalls crumble over time Kyle, and besides, like you said we’ve never bullshitted each other before. And Liz is here…somewhat free…” he trailed off, “Shit man, I don’t know.”

“Just give it time, Michael. From where I was standing the night you left, Liz was on the same page with you. I guess she has been since that night. Think about it; why would she be there if she wasn’t feeling something too?”

Michael thought for a moment, his ever-present self doubt creeping in, “Protection?” he offered, “Max is still looking for her…”

“No way, Paul Bunyan.” Kyle admonished, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Michael asked in confusion.

“This whole, ‘I’m Not Good Enough For Liz’ routine. You are and you always have been. Don’t put her on that pedestal like Max did. You’re better than that.” Kyle argued, “The only thing that’s gonna keep you from pursing anything with Liz is your own damn paranoia about Max. Liz <i>left</i> Max for a reason. Even if he did find her, no amount of sunshine and false promises he’d manage to blow up her ass would get her to go back with him. She doesn’t want the life Max has planned for them. The fact that she’s with you now, should give you some clue.”

“Geez, Midget, tell me how you really feel” Michael joked, but knew Kyle spoke the truth, “I mean, don’t hold back or anything.”

“Well, ya piece a shit,” Kyle said exasperated, “I’ve been holding this in since Liz left. Buddha teaches us to channel our energy and I’m channeling through all that damn hair of yours and into that puny brain.”

Michael knew everything Kyle was saying was true. They’d always been straight with each other. It was one of the things Michael missed about his friendship with Kyle the most. But he also knew that only Liz could really bring Kyle’s point home.

“So,” Michael said changing the subject, “You have to tell me something.”

“I’ll try Segue Boy” Kyle said chuckling at Michael’s lack of subtlety.

Michael scratched his eyebrow, “I understand why you would help Liz leave Max, but Isabel? She’s always been fiercely loyal to Max. She had to know how much it would hurt him.”

Kyle sighed, “She did, but a lot of things changed over the years. The main reason? Alexis.”
“That’s why Liz told me she left.” Michael whispered, almost to himself.

“You’ve gotta understand that Liz and Isabel always got along, but were never really close.” Kyle explained.

“Well, yeah. Liz always had Maria…” Michael agreed.

“And you.” Kyle interrupted, “Even after you left Liz and Isabel didn’t really gravitate towards the other. They were both hurting in their own ways over you leaving. Isabel, because she just lost one of her brothers, and Liz, well, that’s more complicated isn’t it?”

Michael nodded over the phone, letting his silence speak for him. He knew his leaving had hurt Isabel, but hearing about it brought it home. He didn’t regret leaving, but he did regret the tears shed over his departure.

Kyle continued, “It wasn’t until Isabel got pregnant with Lexi that she and Liz really connect. When Is and I told Max about the baby, he was…”

“Furious.” Michael provided, “Liz told me. Heard you got less than Zen-like on his ass.”

Kyle chuckled at the memory, “Not one of my prouder moments, but I think even Buddha himself would’ve decked his royal ass if he’d heard some of the things he’d said.”

“Someday you or Liz will have to tell me what he said.” Michael said.

“Will do. Maybe after Lexi’s graduated from college. I should be over it by then.” Kyle said through his teeth, “ Anyway, Isabel, and more importantly Max, was more than a little surprised that Liz was her strongest defender. He expected her to stand with him, and she didn’t. From that moment on, Liz and Isabel were tight. Liz even delivered Lexi. Thank god, because Max and I were nervous wrecks.”

“Wow.” Was all Michael could say. It didn’t surprise him that Liz had been the one to bring Lexi into the world. She could always keep a cool head in the most chaotic of situations, but the mental picture he had awed him.

“Yeah.” Kyle continued, “After that Isabel, Lexi and Liz were inseparable. So, that much time together gave Isabel a whole new perspective on her brother’s marriage, Liz’s. Is knew things were rocky and it hardly escaped her notice that her sister-in-law had taken on decidedly Michael-like quirks, but it was like the blinders were off. She saw how unhappy Liz was.

“See, the other thing is, that parenthood changes everything. Your perspective on life, yourself, and others around you is totally changed by this one little person. You become more focused, clear, and suddenly what goes on around you, is all about how it affects your child.
“When Max started in on Liz her about having a baby of their own, Liz started shutting down. The only time she’d really come to life was when she was just with Lexi, Is and I. Isabel couldn’t ignore that. Liz was withering away inside and Max was trying to use a baby as some sort of magic glue that would hold their relationship together. Not exactly a reason, in anyone’s mind to have a baby.”

“So what was the last straw, for Isabel?” Michael asked, entranced by Kyle’s story, and filled with pride that his sister finally opened her eyes when it came to Max.

Kyle sighed heavily, debating on whether to pass the next bit of information on, knowing it might anger Michael the most, but he needed to know, regardless of whether or not Liz had told him, “Liz came over for breakfast one morning after Lexi’s first birthday party…and she had very distinct hand shaped bruises on her upper arms. She finally took herself off autopilot, broke down and told us what happened. Of course it had been Max, trying to get his point across, too roughly.”

Michael clenched his jaw at the mental image of Max yanking Liz from the couch and shaking her violently, “I know.” He growled, “She told me.”

Kyle sighed in relief. He could hear Michael’s anger, but was glad that Liz had been able to at least tell him, “So then you know there was no way in hell Liz could stay. Isabel and I knew we’d all miss her, but how could we not help her? Liz was dying right in front of us and Max wanted to have a baby? No amount of sibling loyalty to her brother would have stopped Isabel from helping her.”

“I’m just glad she did.” Michael said gratefully.

“Me too.” Kyle replied, “So, Liz calls us when he settles somewhere and we send her pictures of Lexi. We miss like crazy, but she’s better off out there, than here with Max. And I know Is will feel a million times better knowing she’s with you.”

“And Max?” Michael asked the obligatory question.

“I think we both know Max won’t give up. He still believes that they can work things out, because he wants them to. It’s a fruitless effort to try and convince him otherwise.” Kyle said in an exhausted tone.

Michael knew that was the truth, but surely it would take something, “Not even a divorce?” he asked.

“Guess we won’t know until Liz files will we?” Kyle countered.

“She will.” Michael said confidently, although unsure at the moment where the certainty came from.

Kyle laughed softly, “Sound pretty sure of that, Michael. You know something we don’t?”
“She doesn’t love him, Kyle.” Michael said, finding his answer. He’d seen it last night, heard it in her voice when she talked about him. All that was left with Max was pain.

“Yeah…. She loves you.” Kyle told him bluntly.

Michael coughed reflexively at Kyle’s words. It was one thing to entertain the idea of Liz loving him, but to have someone else point it out was another and he suddenly felt uncomfortable, “I…uhh… think I better go, Kyle.”

Kyle laughed, “Sure. Run away from love, Guerin…Joyce…whoever.”

Michael felt a low growl rise from his throat, “ <i>She</i> ran into <i>me</i>.”He said without thought.

“Um, yeah Michael, you might want to ponder that one.” Kyle returned, “Liz could have cut all her ties to us. She could have made a clean break like Maria…and you, but she didn’t. Liz went out into the world to rediscover who she was and somehow ended up on your doorstep. I hardly call that a coincidence.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Michael rolled his eyes, “Karmic direction. I know.”

“Hey, do not mock, my friend.” Kyle argued, “The universe has a plan, whether you like it or not. Liz is with you for a reason. Your job is to figure out what it is, and accept it.”

Michael growled again, hating to admit that Kyle had once again pegged his situation with an eerie pin point accuracy, “Look, I really should get going, before Liz wakes up and finds out I stole her address book.”

Kyle laughed heartily, “What? Old habits die hard?”

“I guess so.” Michael joined in Kyle’s reverie, and then sighed, “I just wanted you guys to know that Liz and I are okay,”

“Or you will be.” Kyle added.

“Don’t push it, Hobbit.” Michael warned.

“No need to get mean, Jolly Green Giant.” Kyle joked, “ Just try to call soon okay? I know my wife will want to talk to you, scream at you…whatever. We all miss you. I think even Max does.”

“I will.” Michael said, easily making the promise as he held Lexi’s photo in his hand, “Hey, put Lexi back on the phone.”

“Sure.” Kyle said setting the phone down and called out to his daughter.
Michael heard the little girl come bounding into the room, roughly picking up the phone, “Whatcha want Unca Grumpy?”

“I…uh… just wanted to say goodbye and tell you to listen to your daddy. He can’t help it if he’s goofy looking’, but he usually knows what he’s talking about.” Michael told her.

Lexi giggled, “Mommy say dat too.”

Michael snickered, ‘Well, your mommy always has been a smart lady, but don’t go telling’ her that. Wouldn’t want her to get a big head.”

Lexi giggled even harder, “Dat what Daddy say.”

Michael held his sides, the little girl's angelic laughter so very contagious. “Maybe you, Mommy and Daddy can come visit me soon.”

“And Auntie Liz?” Lexi pressed.

Michael was a little taken aback that she knew about Liz being with him, but then again he was discovering what an exceptional child Alexis James was, “Um… Yeah… Aunt Liz too. Uh… Lex? You might not want to mention me or your Auntie Liz to Uncle Max.”

“Oh I know.” Lexi said matter-of-factly, “I keep secret.”

“Good.” Michael breathed, thinking to himself that this little girl would have to get used to keeping more than a few secrets over her lifetime. He just wished she didn’t have to do it at such a young age.

“Unca Grumpy? Will you give Auntie Liz a kiss for me?” she asked sweetly.

Michael’s eyes widened at Lexi’s request and could distinctly hear Kyle laughing heartily in the background, “Uh… sure thing, Lex.” He sheepishly answered.

Lexi found her father’s laughter contagious, “Daddy’s weird.” She commented.

“He’s always been that way, kiddo.” Michael informed her.

“Okay. Bye Unca Grumpy.” Lexi sang, “I wuv you.”

Michael felt a lump form in his throat, but managed to get some words past it, “Love you too Lexi.” His voice cracked with emotion, “Bye.”

He hung up the phone, staring down at Lexi’s picture, the image blurring with the tears that stung his eyes.
“So how is the little munchkin? Liz asked quietly.

Michael’s head shot up, seeing her standing in the kitchen’s entryway. Her hair was pulled up loosely in a messy bun and an oversized hockey jersey that ended just above her knee, swallowed her lithe form.

He quickly wiped the tears away trying to pass them off with yawn, “She’s… amazing.” He said with a proud grin.

His eyes widened as he realized he’d been caught red-handed with Liz’s purse and address book, “Uh…damn… Liz I’m sorry… I just wanted them to know…” he stammered.

Liz held her hand up, smiling, “It’s okay. I was going to call them this morning anyway and Lexi is pretty hard to resist.” She said, gesturing at the photo clutched between Michael’s long fingers. She shrugged her shoulders absently, “Besides, I’m sorta used to you stealing my stuff. Journal. Address book… can’t really hide anything from you.”

Michael gave her a sheepish grin, acknowledging the accuracy of her statement, and then rose off the barstool, “I talked to Kyle. Isabel was at work.”

“How’d that go?” Liz asked making her way over to a cupboard in search of a coffee mug.

Michael let her search, knowing if she was going to make her home with him, she’d want to find things for herself, “Well, once he got Lexi to stop swearing? It went fine. He’s still…Kyle.”

Liz laughed, knowing Kyle’s propensity for swearing in front of his impressionable young daughter. She found the coffee mugs, but groaned and stared up at them forlornly on the second shelf, forgetting she was living with a giant.

Michael smirked at her, the reached up pulling a mug down for her, fixing it the way she liked; cream, no sugar. “I’ll move those down. Forgot what it was like living with a little person.”

Liz punched his arm playfully, and accepted the coffee. Michael rubbed his arm, disappearing into the living room for a moment, making a b-line for the stereo. He had a little experiment he wanted to try; as a result of something Kyle had told him about his new roomie.

“Since when did you get into hockey?” he called out, finding the cd he needed.

Liz looked down at her morning attire, realizing she’d been caught, “Someone had to pick up the slack after you left or hockey would have fallen by the wayside at the house.” She told him, “Besides, it’s kinda therapeutic. The body checks, fights and the occasional game breaking out.”

Michael chuckled, trying to picture Liz watching a hockey game with same amount of fervor he did. He pressed play on the stereo and walked back into the kitchen to join Liz. He was more than amused to find she’d absently began bobbing her head to the beat of the song, mouthing the words to Metallica cover of <i>Whiskey In The Jar</i>..

“I’ll be damned.” Michael mumbled under his breath. Kyle was right. But he forgot to mention how sexy it was. Or maybe he was counting it. Impish bastard.

Amused, Michael sat next to Liz arching an eyebrow at her. He watched her mouth another verse to the song, before becoming aware of his scrutiny. She looked up at him, blushing slightly.

“Metallica huh?” He asked, taking another sip from his coffee.

Liz straightened up in her chair, taking on an air of feigned indignance, “Well, I heard them enough when we all lived together. I saw the light. If you can get into Billie Holliday and Miles Davis, I can certainly find the brilliance that is metal. It’s called evolving.”

“Fair enough.” Michael nodded, “And I sure as hell won’t complain. Although, <i>some</i> might consider your new taste in music a step down.”

Liz shook her head, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, well one can only take so much Moby and Counting Crows before one’s head feels it’s about to explode.”

Michael chuckled, “No argument here.” Guessing that when Liz and Max had gotten married, Max had expected her to adopt all things his.

He could sense any talk of Max wouldn’t be the best way to start the morning, so he changed the subject, “Did you sleep okay?”

Liz nodded emphatically, “Better than I have since you… um, better than I have in a long time. It’s a really comfortable bed and the fan helped.”

“Good.” Michael said trying to ignore Liz’s slip of the tongue. Better than she had since he’d left. Her mention of the fan brought back the imprinted image of the smooth skin of her back and her dark hair spilling everywhere, “Uh…” his voice cracked, “Because the heat can be hard to get used to.”

“I barely noticed.” She reassured him. It was true.

She’d never felt more at home anywhere and not even the heat of Death Valley could have kept her awake. Not to mention the dreams that danced through her mind that night, which sent an involuntary blush to her cheeks. She decided to avoid telling Michael that when she’d awakened that morning, she felt a great disappointment that the breeze on her back was the electric fan on her dresser and not his breath seducing her.

“I’m not interrupting your morning routine am I?” she asked, needing to get her mind off of anything related to bedrooms and Michael being in them. Too tempting.
Michael shook his head, “Nah. I mean normally I’d be painting, but that hasn’t been happening for the last week. Stuck I guess.”

“Why?” Liz asked, genuinely curious as to what would cause Michael’s creative flowed to be interrupted.

Michael shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t know. Uninspired, I think.” He sighed, “In any case, Miriam won’t be happy.”

“Miriam?” Liz asked in confusion, feeling a sudden twinge of jealousy. Sure, Michael had told her they hadn’t been anyone in more than five years, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t seeing someone. Taking things slow. But why wouldn’t he have mentioned her?

Michael couldn’t help the amused smirk that came over his face at the flicker of jealousy her heard in Liz’s voice and flashed in her eyes. Maybe Kyle wasn’t so far off the mark. Even if she didn’t love him, at the very least she didn’t like the idea of him with another woman.

“Miriam, is the gallery owner who sells my paintings for me.” He supplied, “She’s one of Sweet’s ‘friends.”

“Oh.” Liz said, slightly embarrassed, but unable to hide her relief, “But I saw all those paintings in your studio. Don’t you have enough for the show?”

“Yeah.” Michael agreed, “But the show is in a month and I promised Miriam something different.”

“And nothing’s coming?” Liz asked.

Michael shook his head, “She won’t be epically pissed or anything. She’ll take what I have, and they’ll sell, but she wants me to… ‘expand my horizons’.”

Liz sipped her coffee, mulling over what Michael had told her. Michael nearly laughed, Liz ever the problem solver. Liz knew not everything in the world could be fixed, but it never hurt to try.

“Well, it’s obvious to me, from those paintings, that you love New Orleans. You paint her as you see her, like a lady. You have, or at least had, a passion for her.” She observed.

“Once Sweet taught me how to see her, I just took off.” Michael agreed.

Liz set down her mug to face him, “Maybe you just need to find something else that you’re passionate about and paint that. What else do you love?”

Michael swallowed his coffee in a hard gulp, <i>“Now that’s a loaded question.”</i> he thought to himself. Hell, he was staring right at it. But there was no way he could admit that to her. Not yet. Things were too tenuous and Michael hated to admit it but he needed a sure thing, especially if he was going to lay his heart on the line for her.

But there was no reason he couldn’t at least test the waters, at least a little. He leaned in a little closer to Liz while she was taking a sip of her coffee, “I’ll let you know when I find it.” He whispered.

This time Liz swallowed hard and Michael missed how her eyes fluttered closed for a moment when his breath danced across her neck. She turned her head to meet his eyes, intent on breaking the moment of temptation, only to be met with more. How could she keep her promise to try and discover or rediscover who Michael is, was, had become, when all she could see was his face so close, those darkened amber eyes, and those full inviting lips. God, those sinful lips that had awakened her to the possibility of freedom all those years ago, now mere inches from her own.


Hadn’t she been waiting for this moment since Michael left?

She had to look back at him. Dammit. She had to stare back up at him with those dark brown eyes that men lose their souls in. Temptation came in a variety of forms, just one never so tempting as the slightly parted lips of Liz, waiting, inviting and mere inches from his own.

Hadn’t he been waiting for this since the moment he’d left?

~*~

TBC….


Chapter 6


Michael and Liz sat at the kitchen island, their faces far too close for two people who claimed they were “just friends.” They were about to take a giant leap off that cliff into something they both so desperately wanted, but weren’t entirely sure they were ready for.

Salvation, and disappointment, came in the form of a gentle knocking at the front door. Michael’s eyes still held Liz’s their faces stopped, but not parting. After a more insistent knock, Michael smiled, “Sweet…” he whispered.

“What?” Liz asked dimly aware of the knocking, still entranced by Michael’s heated gaze and inviting lips. Sweet, yeah, she remembered Michael’s lips tasting surprisingly sweet…

Abruptly Michael pulled back and got off of his barstool, removing himself from the temptation Liz’s lips so effectively provided, and leaving her utterly confused, “Michael?”

“Uh…Another morning routine.” He explained, running an absent hand through his hair, “Sweet comes by around nine to harass me.”

“Oh… oh right.” Liz nodded her head; sure her cheeks had discovered an entirely new shade of red. She let out a shuddering breath as Michael walked out of the kitchen and to the door. “Not even twenty-four hours, Jeffries and you’re all ready to jump his bones… will power girl.” She muttered with a slight groan.

“Since when do you knock, Old Man?” Michael asked Sweet as he opened the door.

Sweet smiled brightly as he stepped inside, “Since you got someone, doing a fair impression of a beautiful young lady, to stay the night, Son.” His eyes raked over Michael’s form and the state of his undress, no shirt and a pair of old sweats, “Not interrupting anything am I? I’m more than willing to forego our morning ritual, if you were getting a little fancy.”

“Fancy?” Michael chuckled, holding up his hand, “Liz and I are…uh… friends.” He insisted weakly.

Sweet shook his head as Michael closed the door, “You’ve been out of the game far too long, Michael. A perfectly stunning young woman like Liz, huggin’ you like she was last night…and you have no idea what to do with her?”

The two men stepped into the kitchen where Liz greeted them with a smile, “Cryin’ shame, Michael.” Sweet teased, before turning his attention to the exquisite brunette in front of him, “Good morning fair lady. Boss man here been humane to you at this hour?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Liz answered, winking at Michael. Humane? Hell, she’d been about to let him be inhumane all over her body.

Michael pulled down a coffee mug for Sweet, handing the wise cracking old man his morning cup of joe. “Great.” He said in mock disdain, “Now I’m gonna have two of you busting my chops.”
“Someone has to keep you on Earth.” Liz quipped, earning a warning, but hardly threatening, glance from Michael. She quickly looked back over at Sweet and the paper bag clutched in his weathered hands, “Come bearing gifts, Sweet?” she asked.

“Breakfast.” He answered shaking the bag, “Will that do?”

He pulled out a still warm croissant; fresh from the bakery a few doors down, and waved it at Liz. Her eyes widened immediately and her stomach grumbled, reminding her it had been awhile since she’d eaten. She hoped down from the barstool and snatched the bag out of Sweet’s hands.

“I think I’ve just found my second husband.” Liz mused as she opened the bag and smelled the heavenly pastry.

Sweet chuckled, “Well that would make you Number Five, Liz. Maybe that’s my lucky number.”

Michael rolled his eyes at Sweet’s shameless flirting, “Uh, sorry, Pop, but she still has to divorce the first one.”

Michael’s own errant observation caused both he and Liz to freeze, and a sudden understanding passed between them. Michael hadn’t meant any malice by it, but it was the truth. And in that truth they’d both found the reason they weren’t ready to admit their feelings, give in to their desires, for one another. Liz had to cut that final thread with Max before either of them could allow anything to happen. Liz was freer, not free.

“D-Did everything get closed up okay last night?” Michael asked Sweet quickly, wanting to rid the room of the awkward silence that had settled in.

“No problems.” Sweet said, pretending he hadn’t noticed yet another secretive glance pass between the two young people in front of him, “But I did fax an order for some more Jack Daniels. That should be here in about an hour.”

Michael nodded, “I’ll take care of it. I need to show Liz around the bar anyway since she’s the new waitress.”

Sweet let out an exaggerated sigh of relief; “ Finally we’ll have some decent scenery ‘round the place. No offense, Son, but you don’t exactly make men’s hearts sing when they look at ya. Now Liz here…I definitely see an increase in business with her waiting tables.”

Michael furrowed his brow and folded his arms over his chest, “I take it back Liz, you can stay behind the bar…I’ll wait tables…

Liz laughed at Michael’s protective nature shining through, “I do know my way around bars, Michael…and it’s more rowdy patrons. How many did you and I work in before you left?”
“A few.” Michael grumbled, “And I do recall having to acquaint more than few ‘rowdy patrons’ with my fist on your behalf, Liz.”

“And it was always appreciated.” Liz said gripping his chin, squeezing his cheeks together comically. “Just promise me I won’t have to wear a uniform that was anything like the one I wore at that dive in Boulder…”

“Cheeky’s?” Michael laughed, raising an amused eyebrow, “I always had a great view.”

“I take it they left little to the imagination?” Sweet inquired.

“To say the least.” Liz rolled her eyes, “Think, normal sized women squeezed into Barbie sized clothes and then shrink it in the dryer.”

Michael tapped his chin with his finger in thought, “Remind me to order uniforms, Sweet…New look for the bar.”

Liz arched an eyebrow at Michael, “Fine, but you have to wear it too, Boss Man.”

“Oh no, Son.” Sweet said holding his hands up in protest, “I could go the rest of my life without that burned into my addled brain. Liz, baby, you wear what you want. No dress code at the bar.”

“Not even ‘No shirt. No shoes. No problem?’” Liz kidded.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna complain if you walk around without a shirt.” Michael teased back, and then looked down at himself; “In fact I’m following that particular dress code at the moment. Come on Liz. Apartment policy, effective immediately.”

“You wish.” Liz dismissed him with a wave, unable to hide the blush on her cheeks. She turned to Sweet for a distraction, “Now how is it that you have four ex-wives, Sweet?”

The elderly Lothario shook his head and placed his hand over his heart, “Alas Liz, I am a man with a great capacity for love in my heart. Every single one of my exes was beautiful, unique and I loved them completely. Not to mention all the near Mrs.”

“What Sweet’s not telling you, “Michael remarked dryly, “Is that he didn’t bother to stop loving Number One before falling for Number Two…Then Number Three… and…”

“Can’t help the way the good Lord made me, Michael.” Sweet sighed.

Liz giggled, “So is there a Number Five on the horizon?”

“Oh I’m sure out there somewhere is the greatest love of my life. Maybe that’s why my other marriages never worked. My true love still hasn’t found me.”
Michael watched Liz’s face fall and she took a deep breath, “Trust me, Sweet. While it’s a nice notion, I’m not sure there is such a thing as true love.”

“Ah now…” Sweet tutted her, “You sure it doesn’t exist? Or is that maybe you’ve yet to feel it or recognize it?”

Michael hung his head, knowing what Liz’s answer would be. She had known true love and it failed her. Max.

Liz thought for a moment, looking over at Michael and his undeniably defeated stance, “You know something Sweet?” she grinned, “You just might be right.”

Michael’s head shot up in astonishment. That certainly hadn’t been the answer he’d been expecting from her. Liz still had a bit of the romantic inside her. Perhaps Max hadn’t completely jaded her. Or maybe he’d jaded her just enough to be realistic. To know that love should exist without massive amounts of pain. Whatever it was she believed now, Michael saw her hope, and in that found he still had some hope of his own.

“So tell me Sweet,” Liz said, quickly changing the subject, “How did you and Michael meet?”

Michael’s eyes widened, “Uh…you don’t really want to know that do you?” he said nervously.

Sweet chuckled, “Oh come on, Michael. It’s not that embarrassing.”

“Now I definitely want to know.” Liz said, excitedly.

Michael was about to protest again when Liz stuffed a croissant in his mouth. He growled through the pastry, “Fine.” He said chewing, “Just keep in mind that I did a lot of stupid things for money.”

Liz mind went to places forbidden and she burst out laughing, “Oh Sweet, please tell me you met Michael at a male stripper review.”

Michael coughed, choking on his croissant at Liz’s notion, “In you dreams, Jeffries. I don’t dance. Period. Although, feel free to add that to your fantasy file.”

“No, Liz. I met Michael at a bar I used to work at on Bourbon Street.” Sweet provided, before Michael got himself in any more trouble. “Hard not to notice a kid in a jazz bar, sporting a Metallica T-shirt and a sketchpad. Not to mention what he was drawing…” He paused for a moment studying Liz, “Well I’ll be damned…”

Michael cleared his throat at Sweet and shook his head subtly. Sweet nodded and continued with his story.

“Things were pretty boring for yours truly. Wife number Four had walked out on my foolish hide a few months earlier and I found comfort in the woes of my patrons. Not that I enjoyed them being down mind you. It just reminded me that there were people worse off than I was. You get a lot of perspective when you’re behind the bar instead staring at the bottom of the glass.

“Anyway, this bar I worked at had a gimmick. A contest, if you will. One thing you have to know about New Orleans, Liz, is that we love our food Satan hot and leaving us in pain. So this contest was five hundred dollars to anyone who could eat a pepper. Not just any peeper, but a Scotch Bonnet. You familiar with those?”

Liz nodded, “I think it’s used in Jamaican cooking. But isn’t that something like the hottest pepper in the world?”

“If not, “Sweet confirmed, “It should be. You can’t pick one up without wearing rubber gloves. So hot we had the paramedics take away some of the weaker fools. At any rate we had a crowd of dumbass and drunken college boys there one night, throwing around their testosterone trying to prove who was the alpha male by taking on the Scotch Bonnet challenge, all failing miserably.

“After about the fifth college boy ran out of the room sputtering and crying ‘bout the devil trying to burn him from the inside out with the pepper, I notice Michael shaking his head at them from his corner table. You know how quiet Michael can be, but when you to take notice you don’t forget.”

“He does make an impression.” Liz agreed. Michael blew out a puff of air, trying not to seem amused.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one who noticed Michael.” Sweet continued, “Those college boys saw him shaking his head and didn’t take kindly to that. No M’am, not at all.”

Liz groaned, “You didn’t get in a fight did you? Because you know you have this uncanny ability to mock…” she asked Michael.

“Shhh.” Michael said putting a finger to her lips, “Let Pop finish the story. Besides it can’t be helped if some people just beg to be mocked. A lot.”

“So,” Sweet pressed on, although enjoying the none-too-subtle flirting happening between Michael and Liz, “These boys called Michael over and challenged him…to eat the pepper. But just to make it more interesting, not only would he get the cash prize from the bar, but each of those boys put up a hundred dollars of their own beer money.”

Liz ran a had over her face, looking between her fingers at Michael, “You didn’t…”

Michael smirked, “Oh, but I did, Liz. I needed the money and I had a talent that needed to be exploited.” Liz widened her eyes a Michael and he laughed, “Don’t worry I told Sweet about my being born with uh… weird taste buds.”

Liz relaxed a bit and then smirked, “You know genetics is not talent, Michael.”
Michael shrugged his shoulders, “Got me a fifteen hundred bucks and a job.” He returned, quite satisfied wit the end result.

“That’s true enough,” Sweet laughed, wiping his eyes, “You should have seen the looks on those college boy’s faces when Michael bit into one Scotch Bonnet, didn’t flinch and then proceeded to eat another one. Oh, the Lord was smiling down on Michael that day. Yes M’am.

“Now those boys were drunk, but honorable and they paid Michael every red cent. Afterwards, Michael and I got to talkin’, all night if I recall. We’d just lost a bartender, so we needed a new one. I needed someone somewhat interesting…”

“Michael does qualify as interesting.” Liz quipped, “Somewhat.”

Before Michael could retaliate, Sweet continued with his story, “So I gave him the job. I asked him about his art and while he was reluctant at first…well I can charm anyone, though Michael was definitely more difficult.”

“Don’t even think about it, Liz.” Michael warned as he saw her smirk and open her mouth to comment.

Sweet laughed at Liz’s pout and pressed on, “Michael finally showed me his sketchbook and I was immediately struck. The boy had the most stunning portraits I’d ever seen. The emotion. The little details…” He looked at Liz then up at Michael winking, “Just stunning. Then he showed me some of the newer ones he’s been working on. They were different places around New Orleans. They were rough, but they had potential. Just needed the right eye. He needed to really see the beauty of the city and capture it, like he did in his sketches of y…”

Sweet’s last word was cut off quickly when Michael coughed purposely. The old man realized what he’d almost said and gave Michael an apologetic look, “Well, like in his portraits.” He covered, “ So the next day I took Michael out and showed him my lady, New Orleans.”

“Never seen her the same way since.” Michael told Liz.

“Any chance I could get that tour?” Liz asked Sweet.

“Exactly what I had in mind, lady fair. Go get dressed and I’ll introduce you to Her.”

Liz’s eyes lit up with excitement and she looked to Michael, making sure he didn’t need her at the bar immediately, “Yeah. Go on” he told her, like he could have said no if he wanted to, “I just need you back here by five.”

Liz’s excitement faded a bit, “Oh. You aren’t coming with us?”

Michael shook his head, “Got a bar to run. You remember what it was like running your own business.” He said with a wink. Liz grew up in her parent’s café. She knew how to run a business better than anyone. “I’ll see ya when you get back. I swear you’ll be a different person.”

“Is that what it did for you?” Liz asked, having no doubt that Michael’s love affair with New Orleans and the way Sweet had taught him to see Her had turned Michael into the man he was today.

“Among other things.” He told her holding Liz’s eyes with his own, leaving little doubt that she, even in her absence from his life, had been a part of it too.

They were reminded of Sweet’s presence in the room when he cleared his throat and encouraged Liz to get ready, “Well… go on girl. Scoot! New Orleans waits for no man…. and especially no woman. She’s a beauty, but She gets jealous.”

Liz nodded and disappeared into her bedroom. Sweet turned to Michael, finding his young friend’s eyes on Liz’s door, “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her last night.” Sweet admonished himself. The sketches. I mean you hardly forget a face like that.”

“Yeah.” Michael said in a slightly defeated sigh, “You hardly do.” He snapped out of his wistful tone and scratched at his eyebrow, “Just. Uh, do me a favor and don’t tell her about those sketches you saw when we met. I’m, not sure I’m ready for her to…”

Sweet held up his hand and nodded, “I understand, Michael.” His voice was gentle and fatherly; “I’m beginning to understand a lot of things with Liz in the picture.”

~*~

Sweet and Liz spent the whole day together and she easily began to see New Orleans through the old man’s eyes. Her moods, Her unending beauty, and Her overwhelming charm.

“How can you not fall in love with Her after seeing Her through your eyes?” Liz thanked him as they sat at a sidewalk café sipping afternoon tea.

Sweet chuckled at her excitement, thinking the same thing about Liz through Michael’s eyes, through those sketches. Her moods, her unending beauty, and her overwhelming charm. Although it had been four years since he’d seen those pictures Michael drew, Sweet now marveled at how he’d captured all of Liz. But there was one thing the live model lacked now, that every one of those sketches held in some way.

“Sadness…” Sweet whispered.

“Pardon?” Liz asked, not having heard his utterance.

“Oh sorry Liz,” Sweet began to explain, “But being an old barman I don’t just notice things about my city, but Her people too.”

“And you notice something about me?” she asked intrigued, “Should I be worried?”
Sweet chuckled “Don’t worry. I’m honest, but I’m kind.”

Liz nodded, “I think that’s why Michael likes you so much, your honesty. Michael never liked…”

“To beat around the bush?” Sweet finished, “Yeah, I kinda figured that the minute I met him.”

“So, what is it you ‘notice’ about me?” Liz asked, a little less fearful of what Sweet might have observed about her. He was such a charming and disarming man; it was easy to let your guard down around him.

Sweet studied Liz for a moment, although he really didn’t need to. The whole day spent with her had given him quite a glimpse into this remarkable young woman and namely, why it was Michael was so very much in love with her. “I get the sense that you used to be a lot sadder than you are now.”

Liz worried her lip a bit, but nodded, “Yeah.”

“And I sense that Michael has played a big part in your return to happiness… as well as the lingering sadness. How am I doin’?” sweet observed.

“Too well.” Liz said with a nervous laugh.

“I’m sorry Darlin’.” Sweet apologized regretting any discomfort he’d brought to her with his observations, “Reading people is a gift. Not exactly one I can turn off.”

Liz chuckled, “Believe me Sweet, I know a little something about that.”

Sweet was admittedly confused by her last comment, but shrugged it off, “Well, I won’t push. You’re part of Michael’s past…present and well… He and I came to an agreement when we met, that I wouldn’t push him about his past no matter how curious I am. After all, part of what shapes a man in what he left behind, right?”

“That’s an understatement.” Liz mused. “What has Michael told you?” She was curious as to what he’d shared with his kind old man, given Michael’s tendency to trust no one.

“Not much really. Just that he left behind some people he cared about. Family. But that he had to go. It hurt him too much to stay.” Sweet provided, “That was enough for me. I could see that hurt in his eyes. Though I must say that hurt diminished substantially when you showed up.”

Liz blushed involuntarily, and then shook her head in amazement. “What’s wrong, Liz?” he asked.

“Oh it nothing.” She tried to brush it off, but then decided against it, “It’s just that you got Michael to admit to even half of what he was feeling. You have to understand what an incredible feat that is for anyone.” Liz explained, “He’s not exactly one to trust people in general, let alone older men.”

Sweet nodded, “I sensed that about Michael. What he doesn’t know is how much he…”

“Wears his every emotion in his eyes? Body?” Liz finished, “Yeah. Only it took me a while to figure that out. I was so damn preoccupied with… my life.”

“You don’t have to answer me, Darlin’, but I take it Michael had a less than loving childhood.” Sweet said.

Liz sighed, “Michael, didn’t have a childhood, Sweet. I can’t tell you much, except that Michael lived with a man who saw fit to take out his problems on Michael’s face, body…” she trailed off, “It was bad. And nobody really knew or did anything about it until he was in high school.”

“Sweet shook his head, “I figured as much and that’s a shame, but it makes me appreciate his trust in me a lot more. Thank you, Liz.” He closed his eyes trying not to think about what a younger bruised Michael might have looked like. Pained his heart too much to see it. “I guess Michael is the closest thing to a son I’ve ever had.”

Liz’s eyes widened a bit, “All those ex-wives and you don’t have any children?

Sweet smiled, “The good Lord gave me a great many gifts, Liz, but he did not give me seeds to sow.”

“Oh…” Liz said, “I … uh… I’m sorry.”

Sweet patted her hand in reassurance, “Don’t be sorry. I figure He was just waitin’ to send Michael my way.”

Liz’s face brightened with her smile, “I’m so glad He did.”

“Sent you here too, He did.” Sweet pointed out, “And Michael is more alive than I have ever seen him.”

Liz blushed again, “ Well, I don’t know…” Liz protested.

“I do.” Sweet told her matter-of-factly. “I see it in you too, but you’re both afraid to let go of that last little bit of the past. Both been burned. In your case, that husband of yours.”

Liz marveled at Sweet’s uncanny ability to get right to the source of the problem on very little information. It was no wonder Michael could open up to this man.

“I guess you’re right.” Liz conceded, “But it is a little more complicated than that. My ex…husband, is for all intents and purposes Michael’s brother.”
“I know.” Sweet nodded, “The same brother who has to everything his way and everyone under his control like some sort of…monarch. Especially you.”

Liz couldn’t deny it, “Yeah. That’s Max alright.”

“But you left him Liz…To be with Michael.” Sweet pointed out.

“I… not just for that…I mean…” Liz stammered.

Sweet squeezed Liz’s delicate hand in his old weathered one, “I know you left for reasons other that Michael and I know he’s proud of you for those reasons alone, but a big part of you was looking for Michael, even if you won’t admit it. And I can tell you he’s glad to have you back in his life. Question becomes: How big a part do you want in his life?”

“Huge.” Liz admitted effortlessly.

Sweet chuckled at her honesty and Liz was entranced by the way Sweet’s laughter seemed to touch even his dark eyes, “Well, we both know Michael pretty well. He’s an all or nothing kinda fella. Which means you got ta let go of the past if you want to be part of his future.”


“I know.” Liz said a bit mournfully, “And by staying tied to Max I’m just letting him keep some control over me and that crutch will only last so long.”

“Exactly, Darlin’. So now you know what you have do?” he asked her.

Liz nodded, putting on her best Louisiana drawl, “I need to buy me a big ol’ pair o’ scissors.”

~*~

Michael rose at his usual time the next morning and readied the coffee. He took his place out on the balcony watching the business owners open their shops up. Last night when Liz got back from her tour of the city with Sweet, she was definitely changed. She seemed lighter and if a weight had been lifted off her. He was fairly certain it had little do with New Orleans Herself and everything to do with his grinning bartender.

Sweet was mum about their discussion no matter how much Michael pressed. He just watched as Liz practically skipped from table to table, taking orders and delivering drinks.

She’d regaled him with all the sites sweet had taken her to see, the rich history of the city. It was the same look she got n her face when she’d find a class to take at the university in whatever new state they were in all those years ago. Liz was hopelessly in love with The Big Easy.

Michael thumbed through his old sketchbook with her face on every page and something Sweet had said to him last night, echoed through his mind. Liz was charming a table of Shriners, when she looked up at Michael and her smile widened.

“That smile alone belongs on a canvas.” Sweet had told him, almost an air of mischief in his age graveled voice.

“Yeah.” Michael whispered on the balcony, closing the sketchbook, “It sure as hell does.”

He rose off the lawn chair and strode into the studio. He found a blank canvas and began pulling paints out, mixing them to find just the right golden hue to his subject’s skin. His muse had returned, in more ways than one.

~*~

Liz was awakened by the sounds of Billie Holiday and paint tubes hitting the hardwood floor in Michael’s studio. She smiled and stretched out; glad she wasn’t the only one to have been inspired the previous day. Maybe her talk with him about all the sites Sweet had shown her had reawakened Michael’s muse for his adopted city.

Whatever the reason Liz was grateful he was distracted. She rose out of bed throwing on her hockey jersey and fished out her address book, smiling as she remembered Michael’s boyish look of guilt the previous morning having been caught with it. She quietly padded into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

Finding the number in her little red book she dialed the numbers, determined but still feeling the nervousness that came with what she was about to do. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

“This Jesse Ramirez. How can I help you?” the voice said.

“Jesse? It’s Liz. And I think you know how you can help me.”

~*~

TBC…

[majiklmoon]

damn, I'm GOING to finish reading this, I swear!

[Peachykin]

After the initial shock of hearing his former sister-in-law’s voice on the other end of the line, Jesse was more than happy to help Liz. He and Isabel had parted amicably and he helped the group out with legal affairs when he could. After his and Isabel’s divorce had been finalized, he settled down with his current wife, Melinda, finally having the life he’d sought with Isabel.

Rather than being jealous, Isabel was thrilled for Jesse, finally realizing she could never give him the normalcy he so craved, and she having fallen for Kyle, someone who could embrace her life and it’s many quirks. So she stayed in touch with Jesse, exchanging photos of their new families, Jess now had a son that was a few months older than Alexis. Their contact also allowed Jesse a window into the rubble that had become Max and Liz’s marriage and when he heard she’d left, he’d been anticipating a call from Liz, but the shock of actually hearing her voice was a bit jarring.

Liz explained calmly and plainly her requests, which were few, but important, pertaining to the divorce from Max. The most important request was that Jesse not reveal her current location. Liz may have been ready to break from Max completely, but she wasn’t ready for him to come barging in on the new life she was building.

“Liz…” Jesse said with some trepidation, “of course I understand you not wanting to see Max…But you do realize he’ll want to see you.”

Liz sighed into the phone, “I know, Jesse. But he’s just going to have to accept that I don’t feel the same way. I don’t want him telling me how we can work things out, when we can’t and never will. I don’t love him… I love…” she stopped herself before she spilled her feelings for Michael to Jesse, quickly changing the subject, “Um…Look I realize this is awkward Jesse…and I’d understand if you would rather hand this divorce to someone else…”

Jesse chuckled, “Someone who understands that you were on the run from the FBI because my ex-wife, your husband, and Michael are aliens? That you had to change your names more often than you changed your socks and that your estranged husband has never quite gotten over his king complex from a former life? Sorry Liz, I think I’m the only one qualified to handle such a delicate case.”

Liz laughed at the absurdity of the situation, “Well, when you put it that way…” she let her laughter fade, “Thanks Jesse. You’ve always been good to us despite everything. I guess I’m kinda throwing you into the lion’s mouth aren’t I.. I mean we all know how belligerent Max can get. Especially…”

“When it comes to you.” Jesse finished knowingly, “I know. But I’m your attorney Liz, I work for you. You can trust me. Max might have been family once, but that won’t stop me from protecting your needs. You were family too.”

Liz was rendered speechless for a moment, touched by Jesse’s selflessness. She took a deep breath and continued, “I can’t believe I’m really doing this.”
“Long overdue from what I hear from Isabel and Kyle.” Jesse told her.

“Unfortunately you’re correct. “ Liz sighed, “So… All correspondence will go through you, right?”

“Exactly.” Jesse confirmed, “I’ll call you when I hear from Max… and I will hear a lot I can imagine. If he has anything to say to you it will have to go through me first.”

“Good.” Liz said relieved.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Jesse said a lilt of confusion in his voice, “But why so secretive about your location? I mean I can understand not wanting to see Max, but New Orleans is a big place…”

“It’s not just me I’m thinking about Jesse.” Liz explained, “I’m not exactly alone here.”

“Pardon?” Jesse asked even more confused.

“I’m staying with Michael.” She confessed.

There was a long silence on the Jesse’s end that worried Liz a bit. She was about to call out to her lawyer friend when she heard him chuckle a bit, “Well, they were right… although how you found him I’ll never know. Isabel had me looking for him forever when he left.”

“Michael’s very good at hiding, you just have to know where to look.” Liz mused, then it occurred to her that Jesse didn’t sound entirely shocked, “What do you mean ‘They were right’?”

“Isabel and Kyle said you’d probably be the one to find Michael.” Jesse admitted.

Liz rolled her eyes, “I give those two far too little credit when it comes to figuring things out.”

“So, I take it Michael isn’t exactly anxious to reunite with his brother either?” Jesse asked.

“Not really.” Liz provided, “And he doesn’t know I’m doing this, so if you call and Michael answers…Tell him…tell him…”

“Liz,” Jesse said, “I’m a lawyer. I think I can bullshit my way through a conversation with Michael.”

“Bless you.” Liz laughed.

“You not wanting Max to know your location gets clearer by the second.” Jesse laughed. “I mean it gives you that much more time alone with Michael.” He teased.

Liz snorted, he was right, but did he have to be so damn right? “Okay, you, Mr. Ramirez, have been talking to Isabel way too much. You’re damn lucky your spouses are so understanding.”

“Way to evade the subject Liz.” Jesse chided.

“I’m not evading.” Liz said a bit defensively, “It’s just…”

“Complicated.” Jesse finished with an amused sigh, “It always is with you guys.”

Liz heard Michael’s music turn off in the studio and the heavy sound of his footsteps as he headed towards the door. She said a quick “Goodbye” to Jesse and hung up the phone just as Michael entered the kitchen.

“Who was that?” he asked. Refilling his coffee mug and snagging one for her, reminding himself that he needed to move some stuff down for her.

“Uh, no one. Solicitor.” She half lied. Well, that’s what they called lawyers them in England.

“Really?” Michael asked with a furrowed brow. “I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

“How could you?” Liz laughed, “ You had our stereo on pretty loud.”

Michael looked at her sheepishly, “Damn. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Liz shrugged her shoulders at him accepting the coffee mug, “Ms. Holiday can wake me up any day. Actually she’s a bit more easing that Lars and the boys.” Her eyes roamed over Michael’s body admiring how his jeans slung low on hips, leaving just enough to the imagination and traveled upward finding speckles and tiny streaks of paint on his bare torso and arms.

“Um…you’ve been busy.” She observed, unconsciously wetting her lips.

Michael looked down at his paint-spattered body and smirked, “Just a little.”

The urge to tease the tiny brunette about her none too subtle once over of him, had Michael chomping at the bit. But he could hardly justify the ribbing when he’d been doing the same thing since he walked in the kitchen. Two great loves in one deadly package, Liz in a hockey jersey…and only a hockey jersey. The red cloth may have ended at her knee, but Michael’s imagination couldn’t. No, it kept going straight up to the slight curve of her thigh muscle and the tan skin that surrounded it. Didn’t they make hockey jerseys in a smaller size? If the didn’t, they should.

Michael of course allowed himself the mental torture of wondering if Liz chose to wear anything underneath that material, but never answered the question. That was something, maybe in time, he’d discover on his own.

“So,” Liz said, unknowingly rescuing Michael from reverting back to telling time with a sundial, “You’re muse has returned.” Her voice had the lilt of discovery and the determination to uncover Michael’s newfound creative streak.

“Yup.” Michael answered cryptically, folding his arms over his chest. They may have been apart for several years, but Michael could always tell when Nancy Drew was on a fact-finding mission.

“Anything you care to share with your roommate?” She asked sweetly, even batting her eyes.

Michael grinned, “Nope.”

Liz’s shoulders slump with animated disappointment, “You mean I have to await your next masterpiece with the rest of your adoring public?”

“Yup.” Michael answered, knowing full well he was annoying the hell out of Liz with his monosyllabic answers. But it brought that same redness to her cheeks as when she was… well he enjoyed it.

Liz growled at him in frustration, “You know ‘mysterious’, only holds a small amount of charm, Michael.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Fine. You can see what I’m painting,” He said in what appeared to be surrender, but he leaned in closer, trapping Liz, willingly, against the kitchen counter, fixing his gaze on her, “If you tell me what, and who, that phone call was really about.”

Liz narrowed her eyes at Michael, inwardly cursing his uncanny knowledge of her and when she was lying or covering something up. Seems he was the only one in the house allowed to be something of an enigma

“So,” he asked he continued, not moving from his spot, “You gonna tell me?”

Liz looked up at him, her eyes losing their glare and a grin coming over her deceptively angelic face, “Nope.”

Michael grinned back, “And you said ‘mysterious’ wasn’t charming.” Laughing again as Liz’s brow furrowed at her own quip being used against her.

Just behind her on the counter Michael noticed that next to her red address book sat a worn leather journal. He’d imagined she’d gone through a few of them in the years since he’d left. He’d been the one to encourage her to start writing in them again, knowing she’d need an outlet when he wasn’t around.

He leaned in even closer, closing his eyes as Liz’s breath danced across his collarbone, sending goose bumps to the sweat laced skin. Liz was hardly unaffected, barely believing that Michael was letting himself get so close to her, given their unspoken agreement. She had just taken a major step for them, but was hardly as free as she knew she needed to be for Michael.
What kind of resolve were they supposed to have when temptations like this were presenting themselves? Did he even know what his scent, the paint, thinner, sweat, mixed with the fading smell of the previous days cologne, did to her senses? Did he know how easily he could throw her up on the counter and…?

“Were you planning on doing this here?” he asked, inadvertently flustering the poor woman in front of him.

“What?” Liz asked, her eyes flying open, not having realized until that moment that they had been closed.

“This.” Michael said tapping her nose with the journal, now in his hand, “Were you planning on working on this here in the kitchen?” he clarified.

Liz blushed furiously, before taking the journal from his hand, “I…uh, was planning on doing it…I mean writing, here…or maybe on the couch… I could do it in my bedroom. Write, I mean.” She stammered, finding innuendo in nearly every word she spoke.

Michael broke out in a grin again as an idea struck him, “I know the perfect spot to do it.” He told her turning around, then turning back to face her, “Write that is.” He corrected, apparently Liz’s penchant for innuendo was contagious.

Liz arched an eyebrow at him, but kept quiet as Michael took her hand and led her out of the kitchen, and down the hall. They stopped abruptly at the studio door when realized the “spot” he’d picked.

“Michael,” she protested, “ The studio is your space. I don’t want to invade that.”

Michael held his hand up, “The balcony, however, is not in my space, therefore it’s yours.”

“But the balcony is attached to the studio and therefore part of your space.” Liz argued, deciding two could play the frustration game, and enjoying the red that was coming to Michael’s cheeks, biting back said frustration.

“Technically,” he corrected, “the balcony is outside the studio, therefore outside my space.”

“But…” Liz began again, but Michael gripped Liz’s hand, neither of them realizing he’d never let go of it.

“Liz…Please. If I wanted to argue I’d call Isabel. Take the balcony please.” He told her sincerely, absently running his thumb over the back of her hand.

Liz bit her lip, trying to hide her suddenly labored breathing and Michael gentle gestures, physically and emotionally. “Okay.” She said quietly and thankfully.
Michael hung his head a bit grateful to have at least semi-won the argument and discovered he’d been holding Liz’s hand far to long for someone who was doing his damndest to be her “friend”. The line was getting easier and easier to cross and he was allowing himself far too many liberties. He reluctantly dropped her hand and put his own through his hair.

Liz sensed the awkwardness Michael was feeling and covered with some humor, “Are you sure?” she asked in an impish tone, “I could, accidentally of course, see one of your new pieces in progress.”

Michael smirked, “Honor system. I’m gonna trust you not to peek.”

Liz nodded thoughtfully, “Although… by all rights I think I am allowed at least one casual glance. You did tip toe through my journal once if I recall.”

Michael rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Even eight years later, I’m still paying for that?”

“Well, you read some pretty personal stuff,” Liz answered, placing her hands on her hips “I figure I should get a sneak peek at something that’s equally as… personal, to you.”

Michael laughed, “How long have you been waiting to use that particular card, Liz?”

“Forever.” She answered in an exhausted tone.

“Fine.” Michael conceded, “But will you at least let me choose which piece you see, and when?”

“Of course.” Liz agreed, “But don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Michael returned, opening the door for her, neither of them missing the other’s innuendo.

~*~

One week later Jesse finalized the divorce papers and sent them off to Liz. All she needed to do was sign her name in the designated spots, return the documents to Jesse and he would send them off to Max. After that, it was up to her estranged husband, a wholly unappealing scenario in Liz’s mind. Once again she was relying on Max to determine her fate and the prospect of him even remotely being understanding about her need for freedom from him, seemed, to say the least, very grim.

The night she’d received the paperwork, Sweet and Michael noticed that Liz was distracted, but neither of them knew why. Normally a diligent and attentive waitress, Liz messed up orders left and right and almost ignored customers flagging her down. When things slowed down later into the evening Michael sent her upstairs, sensing she needed some time alone. To his surprise she didn’t argue.
When he and Sweet finished closing up the bar, Michael ran straight up to the apartment making a direct path to the balcony, where he and Liz would stay up for an extra hour talking, like they used to when they lived together all those years ago. Only on this night, to his disappointment, Liz was nowhere near the balcony.

Dismayed he went back inside the studio and headed down the hall, seeing light coming out from under Liz’s bedroom door. Needing to make sure she was all right, Michael gently knocked on her door, hearing papers rustling as she scrambled out of her bed. She opened the door slightly, peering out at him.

“Is everything okay?” Michael asked the obligatory question, “You, uh… seemed a little distracted tonight.” He scratched his eyebrow, debating on his next observation, knowing it might leave him a little vulnerable, “And um… you weren’t out on the balcony… like you usually are… so…”

“Oh!” Liz said raising a hand to her mouth.

She’d lost all track of time going over the paperwork, like Jesse had advised her too, and had forgotten about her nightly ritual with Michael. She too had come to love their talks about nothing and everything and her heart sank that her distraction might have hurt Michael in any way.

“I’m sorry Michael.” She apologized, “ I just um… had some stuff on my mind… I uh…”

“You don’t have to tell me, Liz.” Michael rescued her. He was admittedly disappointed that she felt she couldn’t confide in him about whatever was bothering her, but he was unwilling to force the issue, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Liz gave him a small smile and touched his forearm gently, “I will be.”

She shut the door behind her, leaving Michael more confused than when he’d first knocked.

The next morning Michael woke, feeling more tired than usual. He’d been unable to sleep until he he’d heard Liz finally go to bed in her own room. Why couldn’t she just tell him what was wrong, if there was anything? Maybe she’d just been writing a letter to her parents and the pain of missing them was catching up to her.

He rubbed a hand over his face and trudged out to the kitchen immediately heading for the coffee maker to brew his “de-grumpinator”, as Liz liked to call it, only to find a fresh pot all ready and a note from Liz explaining that she’d gone to the post office that morning and would be back soon. Once again Michael felt the sting of disappointment at another foregone ritual he and Liz were settling into.

In the past week, after “giving” her the balcony, Michael would rise first, fixing the coffee, and then knocked on her bedroom door to wake her up, as he made his way to the studio. He’d be pulling out paints and a canvas when she’d come in ten minutes later, coffee in one hand and her journal in the other, swathed in that same beguiling hockey jersey.

She’d greet Michael with a mumbled “Good morning” and a small smile. He’d grunt back in feigned grouchiness, but maintain his trademark smirk. After their pleasantries were exchanged, Liz would head out to the balcony, settle in the lawn chair and would begin writing. They’d remain that way until Sweet showed up at his usual time. And Liz kept her promise not to peek at Michael’s paintings despite the overwhelming temptation.

But Michael was finding that this particular morning was proving to be different in more ways than one as Sweet walked in the door. Michael looked up at the clock and found that he’d slept in, no doubt a result of his restless night worrying about the pain that seemed to lay heavy on Liz’s heart.

Sweet was a bit perplexed to find his young artist friend not in the studio, and the charming brunette nowhere in sight.

“Where’s our girl Elizabeth?” he asked, setting down the bag of baked breakfast goodies and accepting a cup of coffee from a bewildered Michael.

“Post office.” Michael replied, “Left early. Be back soon.”

Sweet chuckled Michael’s attempt at coherent speech when it was clearly obvious that he’d just risen from bed, “Shouldn’t you be in your cave drawing prehistoric elk?” he teased.

“Ha. Ha. Old Man.” Michael said dryly, rubbing a hand over his face, “I didn’t sleep very well last night, if you must know.”

“That have anything to do with Liz?” Sweet asked, trying to project innocence in his question.

“Yeah.” Michael answered honestly, then saw his elderly friend’s smile turn devilish, “Whoa Sweet. Not that way, you old pervert. Something was bugging her last night and she wouldn’t tell me. She just holed up in her room all night and didn’t go to bed until three. And now this morning she got up early and went out…”

Sweet patted the concerned young man’s back, “I’m sure Liz is fine, Son. Women are a truly strange breed. I’m sure she’d tell you if it was serious.”

Michael nodded, but was hardly soothed by Sweet’s advice. He would have to resign himself to trusting that Liz would come to him if it were serious. He wouldn’t be like Max. He wouldn’t push, no matter how much it was killing him.

Five minutes later a decidedly different, and much happier, Liz came through the door at a near skip. She held the day’s mail in her hands and a smile on her face that no one could take away.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite men.” She said flirtatiously, accepting a good morning hug and kiss on the cheek from Sweet.

Michael stood dumbfounded at Liz’s transformation, “I know you were up early this morning, Liz. There is no way you should be this chipper.” He told her, “It’s inhuman.”

Liz’s eyes widened and she smacked her forehead lightly, “Oh! So that’s why you’re so grouchy in the morning.” She teased.

Michael growled low at her and sent a less than threaten glare for joking about his not-exactly-human status. She snuggled into Sweet’s one-arm embrace in counterfeit fear.

“Now, now, Boss Man,” Sweet played along, “We can’t all be like you… Born grumpy.”

Liz giggled and mouthed, “Hatched,” to Michael as she left Sweet’s arm and scurried past the brooding alien, to the coffee pot. Michael did not miss the opportunity, slapping Liz’s backside playfully, eliciting a yelp from her.

Sweet cleared his throat at Michael in mild admonishment. Michael just shook his head, “Trust me, Old Man, she earned that.”

Liz turned around a dangerous grin plastered on her face, “Don’t worry, Sweet. It’s been so long since Michael’s had a piece of ass he has to justify it when he can.”

Michael choked on his coffee while Liz and Sweet burst into laughter. When he recovered Michael once again shook his head, “I’d love to argue, but she’s right.” He winked at her suggestively, “Thanks Liz.”

In far to good a mood to take offense, Liz curtsied at Michael batting her eyes, “Glad my ass could be of service, Sir.”

Before his young friends got any more suggestive, Sweet interrupted them, “So Ms. Liz… does your cheery disposition have anything to do with that envelope in your dainty hands?”

Michael glanced down at the manila envelope clutched in Liz’s hands, watching her draw it closer to her chest when attention was brought to it. “Yeah Liz.” He spoke up, “What’s in the envelope?”

“Nothing.” Liz said quickly bringing the envelope behind her back and out of view, a small giggle escaping her throat.

“Yeah right.” Michael rolled his eyes and began advancing on her, determined to find out what had her so damn amused.

Liz squealed and began running away from Michael protecting the envelope from his grasping hands. Liz soon found herself in trouble when Michael trapped her by the couch. She could have used her powers to zap Michael enough to move, but with Sweet wiping away tears of laughter watching them, powers were hardly an option. And from the glint in Michael’s eyes, he knew it too. Michael wiggled his fingers Liz, knowing that the mere threat of tickling would send her into a fit of laughter.

“Michael…” Liz said already giggling, “No… Don’t even… Michael!”

It was too later as he had already pounced, pinning the tiny woman to the couch as he straddled her hips, careful to rest his formidable weight on his own haunches. Liz, never one to give up easily, fruitlessly tried to keep the envelope away from Michael, but as his wiggling fingers drew closer to her hyper ticklish ribs she felt herself utterly weak.

“Michael!” she panted almost breathlessly between her giggles, “Please! You’ll make me bend the photos!”

Michael immediately halted his comical assault, but remained seated on his helpless prey, “Photos?”

“Yeah.” She answered her laughter subsiding, “Don’t you remember? A few days ago… when you called Isabel? Once you got her to stop talking nonstop, you made her promise to send us new pictures of Lexi.”

Liz watched the recognition pass over Michael’s face and she handed him the now precious envelope. He handled it so delicately, Sweet thought Liz might have handed him the finest crystal.

The old man cleared his throat again to gain Michael’s attention, “Now, I could be wrong, but my momma always taught me that it was rude to sit on someone bearing gifts. Especially such a lovely delivery person.”

Michael looked back at Sweet in confusion then felt Liz wiggle beneath him; “Oh!” he said quickly leaping off of her and seating himself at the other end of the couch. If she’d wiggled one more time… “Uh…sorry Liz.”

Liz shook her head laughing and sat up moving herself next to him, “It’s okay. Now, will you hurry up and open it?”

Michael looked over at her with a furrowed brow, “You mean you haven’t looked at them already?”

Liz shook her head, “No. I wanted to wait so we could see them…um… together.”

“Oh.” Michael said touched by Liz’s gesture and finding a great amount of rightness in the moment, “Uh… thanks.”

After Michael and Liz opened the photos, he, Liz and Sweet gushed over the pictures Isabel had sent of her precocious toddler. Michael was thoroughly convinced that Lexi was the second most beautiful woman on the planet. The first seated next to him clinging to his shoulder as they flipped through the new pictures, her laughter bouncing off of the walls of the apartment and straight into his still semi-guarded heart.

Michael was still on the couch marveling at the pictures when Liz excused herself to get more coffee, fatigue quickly catching up with her after the previous night’s restlessness. Sweet followed her into the kitchen on the premise of refilling his own cup.

“Are those photos the only reason you’re so chipper this morning?” he asked her.

“Partly.” Liz answered, knowing Sweet could read her, so it would be useless to try and hide anything from the wise old sage.

“And the other part?” he pressed on.

Liz smiled, taking a sip from her coffee, “Its a ‘big ol’ scissor’ thing.” She whispered to him as she headed back out to the couch to join Michael.

Sweet chuckled at the woman, ‘Devious Ms. Liz. And with the face of an angel.”

~*~

Another two weeks passed and even though she’d been anxious about Max’s response to the divorce papers, Liz made a concerted effort to not let it affect her time with Michael. They’d, gratefully, fallen back into their routines after the brief interruption and Michael had really thrown himself into his painting. So much so, that Liz had taken to opening the bar for him, a task she was more than happy to take on and found she enjoyed. Running a business seemed to suit her and Michael trusted her with his bar implicitly. And with a week before his show, Liz certainly did not want to interrupt his creative flow with her worries. Silly girl.

One morning while Michael was in the studio and Liz was retrieving her coffee, journal in hand, when the phone rang. She answered it mumbling a groggy, “Hello.”

“Hey Liz. It’s Jesse. Did I wake you up?”

“No.” Liz said quickly finding little need for coffee, “I was up. Um…so…”

“So, I just got off the phone with Max.” he supplied an exasperation lingering in his voice.

Liz heard his defeat and her shoulders slumped, ‘Well, we knew he wasn’t going to take my serving him with divorce papers with a smile.”

“That is an understatement.” Jesse mused, deciding to skip the various colorful expletives Max had leveled at him that morning, “I’m not sure furious even begins to describe his state. He’s demanding I give him your location. He wants to see you. I, of course, told him ‘No’.”

“But that didn’t do a thing.” Liz observed.

“Right. He says he won’t sign the papers. Period. And said he’d contest it. Along with more demands to see you immediately. I’m sorry Liz, but there’s not much more I can do. I’ll fight everything. No judge can make you see him I can tell you that.”

“It’s okay Jesse…” Liz sighed, “And thanks. Not that it’ll do any good, but I’ll wait him out a little longer. I’m just not ready to see him yet.”

“Take all the time you need. You absolutely do not have to do anything you don’t want to. Max has no legal recourse aside from contesting the divorce.” Jesse reassured her.

Liz felt a little lost. She knew Max wouldn’t just simply give her up, but a small part of her had hoped that seeing the divorce papers might actually make Max see how over their marriage was.

“Liz?” Jesse asked a bit worried by the silence and shaking breath on the other end of the line.

“I’m okay.” Liz answered, “I was just holding out a little hope…you know?” Thanks Jesse.” She quietly hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment as it blurred with her unshed tears.

“Why can’t he just let me go?” Liz asked no one in a strangled whisper, one tear finding it’s way down her cheek.

She glanced down at her journal and heard Michael whistling along to some B.B. King on the local jazz station; unable to help the smile it brought to her face. A little time spent in Michael’s presence and letting out her sorrows in her journal might be just the balm to sooth her aching heart. She wiped her eyes, erasing any trace of sadness from her face, and headed into the studio, intent on keeping this as normal as possible.

“Hey.” She greeted Michael as she walked into the studio.

Michael peered out from behind the canvas, a brush between his teeth and simply winked his “Good morning”. He might have been content to go back to his painting, but the sadness Liz had been trying to hide glistened in her eyes and took Michael back to that night two weeks prior when Liz seemed so lost, without an anchor.

He removed the brush from his teeth and stood back holding her gaze, “Who was on the phone?” he asked, sensing that the call might have been the source of her apparent sadness.

Liz shrugged her shoulder, “Solicitor.” She said quietly.

Michael knew she was lying and his heart constricted a bit, but he was determined to hold to his promise and not press Liz. She was sure as hell taking her time getting around to telling him what was wrong, but he was not going to push. Pushing could send her out of his life, not a prospect that held a great amount of appeal for him.

He couldn’t stand to see her looking so sad and lost again and felt the need to do something to cheer her up or at least momentarily forget her troubles. He glanced at his canvas remembering his promise from a few weeks prior. Yeah, this would definitely brighten her spirits.


He set his brush down and approached Liz, taking her journal and coffee out of her hands, resting them on the worn and paint spattered table. He held his hand out to her, and while she was confused as to what exactly Michael had in mind, Liz trusted him.

“What are we...?” she began to ask as Michael pulled her towards the canvas.

“Need your opinion on something.” He told her with a wry smile.

“Okay.” Liz said a bit of excitement filling her voice at finally getting to see one of Michael’s new paintings.

Michael asked her to close her eyes and he she complied as he placed her in front of the canvas.

“Okay.” Michael whispered, “Open them.”

Liz opened her eyes and tears; happy ones sprang to her eyes. Michael had taken one of the photos Isabel had sent them of Lexi and turned it into a portrait of their niece. The beaming smile, the impish glint in her eyes her sandy hair, even the cowlick that Isabel was always fighting.

“Oh Michael…” Liz whispered, stepping back and gripping his arm, “Its beautiful. No wonder you were so excited about those photos.”

“You really like it?” he asked a bit nervously. Liz nodded emphatically, letting her tears run freely down her face. “Um actually,” he continued, “This isn’t part of the show.”

Liz looked up at him in bewilderment, “So Lexi isn’t your new muse? But I thought…” she pointed to the canvas.

Michael shook his head, “My stuff for the show is already done. I was saving this for last. I’m gonna send it to Isabel as soon as I’m finished. Surprise her you know? It doesn’t make up for missing out on Lex…but…”

“It’s absolutely perfect, Michael.” Liz said almost breathlessly, feeling as though Lexi were right in the room with them the painting contained that much life in it.

Liz’s tears, it seemed, would not stop and Michael felt her shaking beside him. Her happy tears had turned sad again and she was unable to keep her stifling sobs at bay. Michael pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her in protection and stroked her hair in an effort to soothe her, knowing she needed to let out whatever grief her heart held. Wishing he truly could take it away with the stroke of a brush.

~*~

Michael’s show was fast approaching and he spent the few days before it transporting his new pieces to Miriam’s gallery, going over placement of the paintings, which ones were for sale and which ones were staying with him. Too personal to give up.

Liz had graciously taken over the bar during the hectic time, just enjoying the excitement and nervousness that seemed to consume Michael as the show drew closer. She had to admit the feeling was contagious. She’d been there since the inception of these new masterpieces and had yet to see them. Michael seemed most nervous about her reaction, though she couldn’t imagine why. There were going to be art critics from all over the country coming to the show and he was fussing over her?

Liz woke gently the morning of Michael’s show, stretching out in an almost catlike fashion. Her eyes widened as she caught her first sight of her bedside alarm clock and read the numbers. She sat up in her bed listening for the familiar heavy steps of Michael’s feet in the kitchen, but was met with silence.

“Shit!” she hissed, jumping out of bed and throwing on her jersey.

She threw open her door and scampered down one to Michael’s, knocking loudly before entering. Michael sat bolt upright as Liz jumped onto his bed shaking him roughly.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked trying to process in his sleep-addled brain, exactly what Liz was doing in his bed, although far from opposed to the idea.

“We forgot to set our alarms, Michael!” she said frantically, pointing at his silent clock. When she saw he was still too groggy to comprehend she continued, “Someone in this room has a big art show tonight and promised Miriam that he’d be at the gallery by ten to go over the last minute stuff…”

Michael blinked looking back at the clock a second time, “Shit! I only have twenty minutes. Damnit!”

“Calm down, Michael.” Liz said trying to follow her own advice, “You go get in the shower. I mean, I think it’s a bad omen if the artist literally stinks at his own show. I’ll make you some coffee and toast while you’re getting ready.”

“Okay.” Michael breathed, finding some humor and calm in Liz’s words, and then furrowed his brow as a thought occurred to him, “Wait a sec. You said ‘we’ forgot to set our alarms. You aren’t coming until tonight, with Sweet, right?”
Liz smiled, “Yeah. But I wanted to get up with you. I know how nervous you are about this show” she down cast her eyes for a moment, playing with a loose thread on her jersey, before meeting his gaze once more, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Michael nodded, “Uh…Thanks.”

Liz glanced over at the clock, “Nineteen minutes Mr. Matisse. Go on and get in the shower. What are you waiting for?”

Michael laughed for a moment and then arched an amused eyebrow at Liz, “Well, unless you want a whole other, X-rated, show…” he cast his glance down to his sheet-covered lower body.

Liz’s eyes widened, realizing she’d forgotten about their mutual propensity for sleeping in the nude. She rose off the bed backing out of the room, “Right. Okay. Coffee. You. Shower.”

Liz quickly shut Michael’s door, pausing for a moment, “Coffee? You? Shower?” she repeated sarcastically, “Liz. Big. Ditz.” She shook her head and padded into the kitchen.

When Michael emerged from his room, he was dressed in his only pair of clean khakis, his requisite Doc Martens, and was throwing on a black button down shirt. His hair was still dripping from he shower and he only had eleven minutes to get to the gallery, but the sight of Liz buzzing around the kitchen, trying to do everything she could to make sure she could get him to that gallery on time gave him pause. He was nervous as hell about tonight for more reasons than he could count, but seeing her like she was gave him momentary calm.

Liz caught Michael out of the corner of her eye and rushed at him with a piece of toast in her hand. Michael didn’t blink opening his mouth to accept the toast chewing one bite as quickly as he could before taking a sip of the scalding coffee, grimacing at it’s temperature.

“Uh…Liz could you dry my hair. I’m kinda nervous and you…uh know my powers get sorta…wacky…I don’t want to burn it off.”

Liz smiled. Michael was embarrassed that he had difficulty keeping his powers in check when nervous, but it was one of the things she’d come to love about him. Too much control could be just that, too much.

She raised her hands into Michael locks and closed her eyes sending the heat to her hands. She didn’t notice Michael watching her, and gripping at the counter at the feel of her hands running through his hair. Liz felt the wet strands dry and slip through her fingers like silken waves and she opened her eyes.

“There.” She said proudly, if not a little exhausted, not from the effort, but the sensations it sent through her body.
Michael turned looking at his reflection in the microwave and nodding his head, “Not bad, Liz. And under pressure. I think I’ll keep you around.”

Liz punched his arm lightly, “Drink your coffee.” She grumbled.

Michael obeyed picking up his mug, vaguely noticing that Liz was buttoning up his shirt for him, until she’d reached the third button. She left the top button undone and smoothed the lapels. She glanced at the kitchen clock with a grimace.

“Okay. You’ve got eight minutes to get to he gallery. I think you’ll make it. I can put your coffee in a travel mug if you want, because let’s face it, Miriam’s coffee sucks.”

“I’ll do without it.” Michael laughed, “Probably drink too much of it anyway.”

Liz reached into an old wicker basket handing Michael his wallet and keys, brushing imaginary lint from off of his shoulder. “Okay then. You’re set. Sweet and I will be there at seven. On time.” She teased.

“Good.” Michael breathed a sigh of relief, “I’ll need someone there who won’t tell me how brilliant I am.”

“You will be…are brilliant, Michael.” Liz said seriously, and then smiled, “I just happen to mean it.”

She took the coffee cup from his hand and took another look at the clock, “Seven minutes. Go.”

Without thinking Liz rose up on her tiptoes brushing her soft lips over Michael’s for a normal “goodbye” or “good luck” kiss. Except this wasn’t exactly normal for them. In the frenzy of the morning she’d forgotten her agreement with Michael and not only crossed the line, but bound over it. But he wasn’t resisting, if anything he was just as shocked, but definitely kissing her back.

Liz pulled back abruptly covering her mouth, unsure of what to say and the look on his face told her he was feeling the same thing. She would have apologized, but she wasn’t sorry. If anything she wanted more. She licked her lips once again tasting Michael on her and almost moaned. The question became did Michael want to cross that line with her?

Amidst the silence there was a blur of movement and a coffee mug crashed to the floor.

~*~
TBC…

[Peachykin]

Chapter 8


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Michael...” she breathed again, “There’s something... I need... to tell...”

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Its...About...Max....” Liz breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell Michael, don’t worry about Miriam.” he said breaking the tension in an attempt at innocent cheer, “You tell her <i>why</I> you were late and she’ll understand.”

“She’d be about the only one.” Michael said plaintively, not take his eyes away from Liz. Without another word Michael strode out of the kitchen slamming the front door on his way out.
Sweet raised a hand to his cover his heart, dumbfounded at what he’d seen and the pain it caused him to witness love falling apart before his eyes. What had gone so wrong? He looked to Liz, who was raising a shaky hand to wipe away the cascade of tears spilling from her eyes. He held his arms open to her and she immediately shuffled into his comforting embrace, letting out the sobs she could no longer hold inside.

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

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

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

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

“And something broke this morning,” Sweet observed with a slight chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it , Sugar?” she asked, almost motherly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~
TBC...

[Peachykin]

Chapter 9

Michael could have spent the rest of the day being nervous about the various art critics who would come to pick apart his paintings, but Michael Guerin never gave two shits about what other people thought about his creative expression, and that was a sentiment that had carried over to Michael Joyce. He saw the critics even being at his show as arbitrary and never did anything to cozy up to them, hoping for a better review.

Miriam had made the suggestion to drop the icy act upon his very first show, but she learned quickly that she should thank her lucky stars that Michael’s middle finger at people telling other people what’s good and what’s crap, was purely figurative, and if she kept pushing he might just make that analogy literal.

Michael wasn’t even fretting about his potential buyers. He respected most of them, because they’d found something in his work that touched them enough to part with a few thousand dollars and take home. Most of them liked to pull him aside and ask about his inspiration, hoping for some insight into the artist, but never got it. It was yet another thing Miriam had encouraged him to loosen up on, until Michael pointed out to her that, most people didn’t really want to know him, they just wanted to see if they were right. The buyers got what they needed from the painting and just needed confirmation of their feelings, not something Michael was willing to give.

So if it wasn’t the buyers and it wasn’t the critics that made Michael uncharacteristically distracted throughout the day leading up to the show, that what could it be? Miriam had little doubt as to whom, by the way Michael kept reaching up and almost caressing the dark bruise on his neck. Liz.

It tore at the Miriam’s heart to see Michael with such a heavy heart and unwilling to burden his troubles upon another sympathetic soul. But one thing she knew about Michael Joyce, was that while he might have enjoyed playing a man of mystery, he wore his every emotion in his body and face, if you just knew how to look, and few people cared to try and see that. She only hoped Liz did.

Michael had tortured himself all day with the memory of Liz’s body pressed against his. Her soft skin beneath his fingers and her lips, God those lips, not only accepting his ardent kisses, but returning them. Why did she kiss him? Why did she have to step over that line? And why did he have to follow her so willingly over it?

Michael looked around the gallery, first to his standards, the ones of New Orleans and her various characters, loves and charms, and then to his new pieces, towards the back, the ones that he knew were so revealing, but only to one person. He was tempted to call the bar and tell Liz not to come. After what had happened between them that morning, nothing could ever be the same again. He and Liz had taken down walls they’d both put up and let each other in, or at least he thought they had. If Liz had truly taken her wall down, why did Michael still see Max lurking behind it?

Fear wanted her to stay away. That scared little boy inside of Michael, tired of having his hand smacked away from the brass ring no matter how hard he tried, wanted him to give up and stop feeling the horrible sensation of falling off the damn merry-go-round and spinning into disappointment and heartache. Love was not a horse easily hopped back upon. Most wild things aren’t.

But as strong as that fear might have been, he knew not wanting her there was a lie to himself. When he painted his pieces he knew she’d be there to see them. That she’d see every last vestige of his soul poured into those paintings and laid bare for her to see. He knew that he was living on borrowed time when it came to suppressing his feelings for her. Maybe that was why his resolve had crumbled so easily that morning. He knew she’d see his love in those simple brush strokes, because she could always do that, see him.

Liz already had Michael on his knees, emotionally, for her, why not show her how much. That despite the “dance” they’d been doing, it was more than just that to him. She touched him in a place that no one had ever gotten to before, and for once in his life, he’d invited it. As much at peace as he was in, when she walked in those bar doors a month earlier, he knew everlasting peace could only come from completion with her. Not just sexually, although that held high appeal for him, but emotionally.

He wanted Liz in his life, but would never say needed. If she left, he would still go on breathing, painting and living, but something would always be missing and all he would have left of her were these paintings and even most of them would find new homes after that night. Could he really let her extract herself from his life that easily? Would asking her not to, make him just as bad as Max? He could hardly believe it, but for once in a very long while, Michael understood what the pain of losing Liz’s love must have meant to Max.

As seven quickly approached, Michael kept a close eye on the door, unconsciously, or maybe not so much, to see if Liz would indeed show up. The thought, among the many that day, had occurred to him that after their exchange, and from what he could see, mutual heartache, she might just make her retreat that night. He put a hand over his heart at that proposition, still having so many things to say to her.

He’d tried his best to keep up his end of the social conversation with critics, guests and buyers, but Michael was never a man of many words. He preferred to keep things simple and to the point. And when it came to his paintings he felt they should speak for themselves, what the each person took away from them was their’s to own, not his. In his opinion, no one had copyright on free thought.

Miriam watched Michael from across the room as he was vaguely listening to a wealthy female admirer of his. She, having bought several of his earlier works, seemed obviously intent on adding <i>him</I> to her collection rather than his art. But if this woman had really looked at his new pieces, she would have seen that Michael saw no other woman but Liz.

Michael had been listening to the early thirties, attractive brunette divorcee drone on about the mood behind one of his new pieces, doing everything she could to detach the relationship of the “model” to him , when it was so clear that she meant something to him, consumed him.

This woman was trying to overanalyze what, to Michael, was entirely simple. Yes, while his feelings were laid bare, that need not mean they were in anyway complicated. He’d followed some advice and painted what he loved, there was nothing existential or metaphorical about it.

His attention was mercifully, and torturously, taken away from the woman when, promptly at seven, he saw Sweet walk into the gallery with a stunning Liz on his arm. Her dark hair was piled loosely on her head and her eyes were dark and smokey, but still did nothing to hide the deep brown that seemed to be Michael’s siren song. His eyes traveled further down to her attire She was clad in a black, loose-fitting cocktail dress held together up by flimsy ties on each shoulder and had no adornment or design. When she wasn’t walking it held nicely to her curves and when she was, swayed perfectly around her legs, accented by her strappy, slightly heeled sandals. She was the epitome of simple and beautiful.

He couldn’t help but smile at the way she clung to Sweet’s arm for support. She’d told him it’d been a while since she’d worn high heels and she looked as though she was on very unsure footing, but in only the way she could made her look like the most graceful woman in the room.

Michael watched Liz’s eyes dart around the room, and by the look on her face , had yet to see his new paintings. Moreover she was looking for him, biting her lip and marring her carefully applied lipstick in the process. She seemed, worried and anxious, much like Michael felt.

“...And the model for this particular painting, she’s more as a point of reference for the light you’re playing with here. I see it as more the dark and the light contrasting creating a tunnel effect. She’s almost insignificant....” the woman next to him carried on, stopping when she realized Michael wasn’t even looking at her let alone paying attention to one word she’d said.

“Ahem.” she cleared her throat a bit haughtily when she saw that Michael attention had turned to the very girl in the painting, “Ahem, Mr. Joyce are you even listening to me?”

“What?” Michael asked, taking his eyes away from Liz for a moment when he heard the woman next to him trying to gain his attention.

He looked back up at the painting she’d been talking about and shook his head, “No, I haven’t really been listening to you, because for once I feel like the viewer has no fucking clue what they’re looking at. It’s not about darkness and light, nor is it about a tunnel effect. The model is central, as she is in all my new pieces.”

He pointed a finger up to the painting, titled <i>The More Things Change...</I>, and let out an exasperated sigh, “It was closing time and the rest of the damn bar was dark. She had the light on so she could do the books. Sometimes, there isn’t deep meaning in my paintings. It just is what it is.”

The brunette stood, mouth agape at the dressing down the hunky artist had just given her. Michael gathered she’d never actually been told the truth by anyone before and especially not someone she was about to spend thousands of dollars on. Michael looked once more at the painting, then back towards the front of the gallery and then back down that the divorcee still reeling from his honesty.

“That model, is <i>not</I> insignificant. She’s everything.” he said narrowing his eyes at the woman, far from fooled by her growing indignance. “Excuse me.” he added, turning away from her to make his way towards Liz.

Sure he was about to lose the divorcee’s business with his cantankerous rant, but it was business he was more than willing part with. It was one thing to criticize the work, Michael could deal with that, but the model, never. Liz deserved better than to be put on the walls of a woman more interested in his strokes in the bedroom than his talent as an artist..

Liz looked up at Sweet anxiously as Miriam led the older man away, knowing the couple would need to be alone. He patted her hand and winked at her, trying to reassure the worried girl that indeed everything would be okay. Liz’s faith in Sweet was infinite, but this was her heart, and Michael’s they were dealing with, two very fragile and unsure things at the moment.

Liz turned her attention to Michael now only a feet away and for the first time since she’d returned to him, she couldn’t read his face, for it seemed to read so many different emotions. Confusion, pain, relief and trepidation. One that was surprisingly missing though was his anger. What had been burning so brightly on his face that morning seemed to be gone, or at the very least deeply buried inside him. She wondered if he’d tucked it away for the show and was content to release it afterwards and she wondered how much it pained him to do so.

“You came,” he said, caught somewhere between relief and surprise.

“Of course I did, Michael. I know how important this is to you,” she answered, deliberate in her double meaning, seeing what kind of response he would have.

And awkward silence settled between them and the hum of the crowd noise surrounding them assaulted their ears. Liz wanted to yell, scream, or shout to Michael that his fears about her leaving were unwarranted. That she had never given a moments thought to leaving him, because she never wanted to know what a day without Michael felt like again. But it was far too public a place to make such a declaration. She couldn’t count on Michael’s discretion nor her own when she told him about the divorce and she needed them to be someplace where discretion wasn’t a factor.

“Look Michael,” she said after taking a deep breath, “we obviously need to talk. There are some things I need you to understand. Some things I’ve been keeping from you, but this isn’t the right place is it?”

Michael looked around at the increasingly crowding gallery and nodded, “No it really isn’t.” he let out a puff of air, annoyed at himself, “And the truth is I’ve been keeping some stuff from you too, Liz.”

Liz furrowed her brow at him in surprise. Of the two of them she’d felt Michael had been the more honest and forthcoming, or at least it appeared that way. What could he possibly have kept from her besides his suppressed feelings for her?

Michael smiled at her confusion, “Trust me. You’ll see.” he answered her cryptically.

Tempted to ask him exactly what he meant Liz grew distracted by the various people calling out Michael’s name, trying to gain the young artist’s attention. This was his night, they could clear the air later.

“I should let you get back to your teeming masses.” she gestured at the crowd of people with a smile, “I’ll be with Sweet if you need me.”

“Not like I could miss you.” Michael told her raising an eyebrow.

Liz blushed, unconsciously smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle on her dress. Her eyes widened when she caught the dark purple mark her mouth had left on his neck that morning and she let out a small gasp. She immediately grabbed her purse and began searching for her compact, much to Michael’s confusion.

“Liz, seriously you look...uh... beautiful.” he reassured her.

Liz brought out the compact opening it and removing the pad, “Its not for me, “she tried to explain, “Its for you, I...um.... gave you a...” she raised her hand to his neck. When Michael gently grabbed her wrist halting her movements she rolled her eyes, “I’m not going to put make-up on you, Michael. I’m just going to heal it through the pad. Make it look like I cov...”

Michael shook his head, lowering his voice so only she could hear him, “Don’t Liz. Don’t cover it up or make it go away. I earned it.”

Liz nodded her understanding. She had similar marks on her body that were hidden by make up or clothing, she having been unable to make them disappear as well, proud of the way Michael had claimed her without apology.

Liz could only watch, her tongue once again heavy, as Michael walked back into the crowd shaking hands with journalists and collectors.

“I’m not leaving.” she whispered, mentally chastising herself for not at least giving Michael that reassurance.

~*~

Liz caught sight of Sweet and Miriam toward the back of the gallery where Michael’s new artwork was being showcased. As she made her way towards them, she got the odd feeling of being watched and caught the conspiratorial whispers of the gallery patrons.

“Do you really think that’s her?”

“Well, I saw him talking to her.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

“Come on. The hair. The eyes. I’m tellin’ you it’s her.”

“I guess... but she seems so much smaller... Are you sure?”

‘Sure about what?’ Liz wanted to know, unable to shake the feeling that she was the exhibit. As she rounded the corner joining Miriam and Sweet everything became suddenly clear. She looked up at the canvas Miriam and Sweet were studying and was met with her own chocolate brown eyes staring back at her.

Sweet felt the tiny girl grasp his arm in order to steady herself and heard the tiny whistle of her breath being taken away. He wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed her, “Breathe, Baby girl.”

Breathe. How does one do that after seeing yourself up on a canvas? Liz stared up at the painting marveling at the moment Michael had captured. It was her the night Michael had left. She was standing on the porch step in her worn robe, eyes glistening with tears and arms wrapped around her body in an attempt to replace the warmth Michael’s embrace had provided her with only moments before it.

Liz shivered, remembering the chill she felt that night and every night after it until she walked back into Michael’s life. She glanced down at the title, <i>Last Look,</I> and realized that the painting was exactly as Michael had seen her before he’d closed the door to the Nova and drove away, obeying her request to not look back.

“I-Its m-me.” She stammered, overwhelmed. No wonder Michael had been so secretive about his new muse. It was her.

“Sug,” Miriam said softly, laying a hand on Liz’s arm, “They’re all you. Every single one of them.”

Liz tore her fixed gaze away from her anguished twin in the tattered flannel robe and looked around the room. Miriam was right. Every single new piece by Michael Joyce had the same dark-haired beauty in them. Some were happy, others sad. They were all seemingly innocuous moments in time. Moments Liz hadn’t even realized Michael was watching her. And in every single one of them, even the not so glamorous ones, she was, and truly felt, beautiful.

<i>Foresaking Faulkner</I>, a portrait of Liz in the park, she wore a serious look of concentration on her face, trying for the umpteenth time to get through <i>Ulysses</I>.

The painting of her doing the books, having a conversation with Sweet, entitled <i>Old Souls</I> and <i>Millenium Eve</I> was a brief trip the farmer’s market. He even painted her writing in her journal on the balcony, clad in that red jersey, steaming mug of coffee by her side, <i>Morning Confessions</I>

Liz let out a nervous giggle and blushed when she saw <i>Rock Star</I>, a picture of her during one of her many impromptu Metallica concerts in the kitchen. Michael captured it all. And while the recurring theme was this woman, another one screamed out of the paintings at her, Michael’s intense love.

Liz recalled the time when her life truly changed, Max had shared flashes of her, how he saw her, and she remembered feeling beautiful in his eyes. But she also remembered feeling almost idolized, put on a pedestal that left her only room to fall from grace in Max’s eyes every time she shattered that image. At one time she wanted to strived to be that beautiful for Max, but found it an impossible goal to reach no matter how much he wanted to and how much she wanted to be for him.

But in these pieces, these seemingly arbitrary, but, in fact, carefully chosen moments, Liz felt as beautiful as Michael had painted her. He didn’t leave out her flaws or paint her in some ethereal light. He let her hair be messy and her eyes be puffy or her mouth be a open a little too wide in laughter and it was all beautiful because that’s how Michael saw her, loved her. She wasn’t an angel there on earth who never made a mistake. She was a woman, human, flawed. She wasn’t perfection incarnate, she was just perfection for him. Real. Attainable, and yet just out of his reach. If only he knew all he had to do was try.

Liz had been so quiet throughout their entire walk through of Michael’s paintings. A myriad of emotions seemed to play out on her face, each one reflecting the mood of each piece and the particular memory it brought about. Sweet didn’t dare let go of Liz feeling her tremble against him, weakened by what she was seeing.

“You okay, Liz?” he asked her as they reached a small section containing Michael paintings that weren’t for sale.

“Hmm?” Liz asked as if being snapped out of a trance, “Um... yeah... I think so...”

Miriam and Sweet exchanged a worried glance, wondering if seeing Michael’s loved laid bare for her was too much to take in. Even to the casual observer Michael’s passion for Liz tugged at the heart, but being the object of that passion had to be a whole other experience entirely.

“Mir?” Liz asked, “Did Michael tell you why he wasn’t selling these?”

Miriam smiled and nodded, “As much as Michael tells anyone anything about his paintings.”
“What about this one?” Liz pointed to the one titled, <i>Little Miss Scientist</I>, and raising an amused eyebrow.

It was Liz at the university, looking at the college board where she’d found Michael’s ad for a waitress. They’d stopped by there one afternoon to take down the ad and Michael must have caught her looking at the various flyers on guest lecturers for the upcoming fall semester. But what struck Liz was the reflection in the glass of the board. From behind Liz was clad in a pair of denim shorts, tank top and back pack, but her reflection shone her in blue hospital scrubs, a crisp white lab coat and a clipboard at her hip.

“Michael said something about saving this one for a friend,” Miriam told her, “Then changed the subject when I pressed about who the friend was. He said he’s taking some of the money he gets from the sale of his paintings and putting it into a scholarship of some sort. Hadn’t really worked out the details yet.”

It hardly surprised Liz that Michael would be doing something to give back to the community he’d come to love and be a part of and while Michael had never been one for the confines of the classroom, he knew how important education was. He also knew that while Liz never regretted much in her life, even the bad things, she did regret never realizing her dream of going to college. During their balcony chats after closing the bar, Liz mused about how by now she thought she might be interning at some big lab or hospital, making her name in the field of molecular biology. Some of Liz Parker’s dreams still lived inside Liz Jeffries.

She and Michael had discussed her taking some classes or even a lecture or two at the university, just to keep her mind sharp. And since sculpting wasn’t really working out like Michael had liked, she suggested he take a photography class, given his eye for things around New Orleans. Who better to capture the great lady’s children and charms?

Miriam, Sweet and Liz moved onto the next painting and Sweet let out a small chuckle, I’ll bet my fool heart that this one is going up in the bar.”

Liz, with a tearful smile, looked up at the painting she knew would be her favorite and Michael’s. Titled <i>Finding Ulysses</I>, it was Liz standing in the doorway of the bar the night she’d walked back into Michael’s life. She was small and weary, but still beautiful, and now free.

God, why had he kept all of this from her? To protect himself? Her? How could she blame him for hiding? Hadn’t she done her fair share of that?

Liz looked away from the paintings and searched for Michael, finding him standing in a darkened corner by himself watching her reactions to the paintings. The boy, man, who preferred to remain in the shadows was now staring out from them, daring her to deny his feelings for her. The proof of his love splashed up on the canvas in the red of her hockey jersey and the blackness of her hair. All that love she saw on the canvas now danced in his eyes and she wondered why she’d been so blind to it before.
By some unknown force she found herself walking towards Michael, when all she wanted to do was get out of that gallery. She wanted to cry, weep like a baby at the privilege of being the object of Michael’s love, the thing he cherished, not worshiped. And the weeping model would ruin his show for him. She should have just run, but she just kept walking towards him.

Liz felt the weight of Michael’s love, and she suddenly felt very weak, not physically, but emotionally. Her whole world, idea of what love was supposed to be had just been turned on its axis by this man. It was as if she was opening her eyes for the first time and seeing what love was supposed to look like. Michael.

Love through Michael’s eyes was bright and almost painful to look at, in a blissful way. He was opening her arms and showing her what love was supposed to feel like and it’s power was overwhelming and frightening. Love through Michael’s eyes was intense and was more than just to be felt it was to be lived. It was to accept something so uncontrollable into your life and let it guide you. It was trust, never something easily given by Michael, and he was giving it to her without apology.

She felt herself breaking apart and tried to pull any lingering strength she could to just remain upright as she kept her slow and steady journey to Michael, holding his eyes. She thought she’d known how Michael felt about her, but never on this level. Not until she saw it in the medium he felt best expressed his soul. Loving her caused him pain, but only because he was unable to adequately express it in the way he felt she deserved it.

Liz chastised herself once again for not telling him about the divorce. That her selfish need to prove to him that she was his completely had caused Michael so much pain. She believed that in order for Michael to love her completely she had to be totally free of Max, when it was so obvious that despite their unspoken agreement, Michael would have her any way he could. All she had to do was ask.

She was also angry at him. In a purely childish way, she would admit. Here she thought she had the ultimate proof of her love and devotion for him. Her filing for divorce and then he had to go an out do her by making her his muse. By telling the world he loved her, but knowing only the true meaning behind each brush stroke would hit home with her. She loved that he’d chosen her as his muse, but a little warning would have been nice.

Now she stood a mere inches from him, not hiding the tears she’d been trying to keep at bay. God, she loved this man. This frustrating, complex, sexy, talented, deep, intense man. She loved him with her whole being and she was so frightened that she wouldn’t be able to convey that enough. Not like he had.

Liz stood before Michael, remembering her words to Sweet that morning. That all she wanted to do was tell the stubborn jackass that she loved him, and now she was sure it just wasn’t enough to tell him. That he wouldn’t see that she ran just as deep as he did. That despite being married to Max, he, Michael, was the one who coursed through her veins occupied her heart and melded with her soul. How could he think she’d leave him when he’d managed to not only capture his love for her on those canvases, but hers for him? The jerk.

“Liz?” Michael asked softly, seeing she had something to say to him. Something through the tears that ran down her face. “Do you not like them? I mean I probably should have asked you...”

Liz held her hand up asking him to stop talking, “Michael, they’re beautiful.” her breath caught with the sob that had lurched into her throat. She couldn’t hold her tears in any longer, “They are <i>so</I> beautiful... and you... God.. you...”

“I’m what Liz?” Michael asked, dying to know what Liz had to say. She looked like she was feeling so much. Was it enough to get her to stay with him?

Liz looked up at him with water filled eyes, “You are a jackass, Michael.”

Michael watched her, run out of the gallery stunned by what he’d heard. This wasn’t how he’d thought she’d react. He thought she’d see everything and understand. Had he just pushed her out of his life forever. Were the paintings to much? Had his love, like Max’s, suffocated her?

Damning his admirers Michael took the lead weights that seemed to have kept his legs from moving the second she’d turned away and began running after her. He was stopped by a strong hand and was about to shove his obstacle out of the way when he realized the hand was connected to his surrogate father, Sweet.

“Let her go, Michael.” he said insistently. “Can’t expect someone to experience love like yours, undiluted, and not be overwhelmed. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

Michael couldn’t help the tears that stung his eyes, “Jesus Sweet... I’m losing her.”

Sweet shook his head, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Son. Trust me.”

“If I didn’t, then why did she run?” Michael asked, still trying to move forward to go after her.

“Why did you?” Sweet asked, referring to Michael’s hasty retreat that morning.

Michael relaxed his body as the answer hit him, “Because its terrifying to love her this much.”

~*~

Hours passed and after the show was over Michael, Miriam and Sweet headed back to Ulysses in hopes that Liz might return there. The bar had been closed that night because of Michael’s show, so there were no patrons to fuss over. However, Sweet and Miriam were getting dizzy watching Michael pace back and forth with worry about Liz. Where she was. What she was thinking. If she was safe.

Sweet and Miriam sat at the bar sipping warm brandy, tempted to pour a snifter full down Michael’s throat if only to get the boy to relax. But years ago Michael explained that he didn’t drink. Period. And it wasn’t until Liz told Sweet about Hank that they thought they understood why.

Sweet rubbed at the arm Liz had kept a tight grip on that night feeling a slight, dull twinge of pain that had decided to reside there. Miriam looked over at her sometime paramour with a furrowed brow.

“You okay there, Sweet?”

Sweet nodded and chuckled, “Oh sure. I just think Liz held onto my arm a little too tight this evening. Who knew she had such a strong grip?”

Miriam laughed along with him and they’re gaze once again fell to Michael. He’d stopped pacing and now stood at the glass door entrance to the bar, searching for any sign of Liz.

“Sweet, if Liz doesn’t come back, that boy is gonna die of a broken heart, I just know it.” Miriam told him, a near mother’s concern touching her voice.

Sweet shook his head, “She’ll be back. I can feel it in my heart.” he moved a hand to tap his heart in emphasis then returned the hand to his sore arm.

Michael rested his forehead against the glass door, cursing that even with his heightened senses he couldn’t find Liz in the dark. The not knowing was killing him. He might have said his heart was breaking, but the pieces, at this point were merely cracked, waiting for a negative word from Liz to completely shatter to the ground.

Michael shook his head, he could hardly blame Liz for calling him a jackass. He’d broken a promise to her that he’d made a month ago. They’d sat up on the balcony and he promised her that if, at some point, she felt the need to move on, he wouldn’t try and stop her. Yet, with his paintings, his silent declaration, he’d done just that.

But how could he live with himself and not at least try to get Liz to stay? He ‘d also told her what was his was hers. How was he to know that would come to encompass so many things? That not having been able to share anything with her over the years they’d been apart, had led him to share <i>everything</I>, and now maybe too much.

Michael had been so lost in thought he didn’t notice movement from the sidewalk until, a moment later, he was face to face with Liz on the other side of the glass. Her eyes were puffy with her tears, and her arms were wrapped around her waist. It was my no means a cold night, but Michael swore he saw goose bumps on her skin.

Michael swallowed thickly, waiting for some sign from her. Something that told him where she stood with them. If he would always be stuck inside looking out at her or if all he had to do was open the door and let her in.

His answer came when her eyes fell to the door handle, a silent request to open the door and let her in. Michael did so, unsure of why his hand moved so slowly to do so. Maybe a part of him was still nervous about what she might have to say to him. But hadn’t he been running scared his whole life? Wasn’t it time to be brave?

Michael turned the lock and opened the door part way, holding it ajar for her. She had to take the next step...

The next step, was unfortunately taken for her when the sound of a glass shattering on the floor tingled in both their ears. The sounds of Miriam’s gasp and strangled scream came next and both Michael and Liz turned to see what the commotion was about, only to find Sweet , hand over his heart slumping off the barstool and onto the floor. Agony consumed the old man’s face and his breathing became shallow. It seemed the pain he’d been feeling in his heart that evening had little to do with love.

“Oh God!” Miriam practically screamed, panic setting in as she realize what was happening to her friend, “Sweet, what...Michael! Liz! Call 911!”

~*~

TBC... Bricks can be thrown in this direction. Thank you.

[majiklmoon]

Damn it Stacie...

I'm falling behind again...grrr..this story is too damn good not to get read. HEY, EVERYBODY...come read this story!!!!!

[Pooh]

I've read it many times It's a wonderful story, I hope you can post the rest of it

[dreaming of the incrowd]

Can we have an update soon? I am really enjoying this story. You're perspective of the characters is both unique and intriguing

[Peachykin]

Sorry for the delay all. Kidlet started kindergarten and its been a crazy month. lol


Warning: This chapter is NC-17.


Chapter 10


Michael and Liz shared a frightened glance before instincts took hold and they rushed to the floor, both falling on their knees at Sweet’s side. The old man writhed in agony his hand clutching his chest, a massive heart attack quickly draining him of life.

Behind them Miriam was frantic, she was hyperventilating and her hands were shaking violently. She kept rasping out, that they needed to call an ambulance, but her brain had seemed to shut off and her voice couldn’t work, “Hospital... help....!”

Sweet shook his head at the hysterical woman, despite the pain he was in, “No good....” he panted, “Lord....gonna take me... before then....”

Liz and Michael could feel the truth of Sweet’s word, both feeling their friend’s life force ebbing away with each struggling beat of his heart. A heart Michael felt could keep the whole world running with its sympathetic beat, was suddenly unable to keep time and it seemed Sweet’s gentle soul was not long for this world.

Michael’s own heart was shattering at witnessing the slow painful death of a man whom not only was his best friend, but had become so much more. Sweet had become something Michael never realized he needed, even as a grown man, a father. He’d given Michael someone to look up to, admire. His love had been unconditional, kind, and oddly, natural.

Sweet had unknowingly worn down the edges of Michael’s soul, with their ever changing friendship. Michael saw that a man could love deeply and without apology and still be very much a man. Sweet had taken the blinders off of Michael’s eyes and shown him a world worth watching. Not just New Orleans, but people. He’d shown him that not everyone was out to get him or that hidden agendas were the basis of every relationship. Friendship and respect were sometimes just enough.

Michael stared down into the gentle face of the man he was proud to know as Father, and knew he wasn’t ready to give him up. There is no greater love than that of a son to his father and just because he and Sweet were separated by genetics, generations and galaxies, didn’t make the relationship any less true. In Michael’s opinion, the Lord was gonna have to take a damn rain check on Melvin Walker Johnston’s soul.

Without a second thought to what revealing his secret might later mean, Michael pried Sweet’s hand from his chest and tore open the old man’s shirt, placing his own large palm over Sweet’s failing heart.

“Michael...” Liz said softly, placing a gentle had on his forearm.

Michael took his eyes away from Sweet’s for a moment to look up at Liz. Tears ran down his face at the very real threat beneath his palm, ripping his surrogate father’s life away from him.

“Don’t stop me, Liz.” Michael pleaded, “I can’t lose two of you in one night....I need him....”

Liz shook her head at Michael, reaching her other hand up to wipe away his tears, “I’m not stopping you, Michael. I would never...” a sob choked her words, “I just need to know if you’re strong enough.”

“I-I don’t know.” Michael answered her honestly, “But I have to try. He’s... I have to...”

Yes, Michael had always had the ability to heal, it was his weakest power, even after his brief stint as king. But in the years since, he’d never really had the need to test the limits of his ability aside from healing the minor cut or bruise. And even if he was strong enough, this wasn’t some random stranger he was rescuing. He was beyond emotionally invested in Sweet. He was so scared of losing him, his focus might not be clear enough. He was so damn scared.

Sweet let out a groan and Michael looked over at Liz desperately, “I-I don’t know if I can do it....”

Liz nodded, moving the hand clutching Michael’s forearm down and lifting his palm away from Sweet’s chest, replacing it with her own, “Together...” she said with a shaky breath, and replacing Michael’s hand on her own, “You aren’t going to lose <i>either</I> of us.”

Michael understood what Liz meant, buy “Together...”, but was too wrapped up in saving his father to weigh the meaning of Liz’s following sentence. Even though Liz was a changed human and her powers weren’t as concentrated as her hybrid counterpart, her ability to heal exceeded Michael’s. A gift from Max that she only now fully appreciated.

Separately Liz and Michael would not have been able to heal the increasing damage to Sweet’s faltering heart. But together, Liz’s healing energy combined with Michael’s, they believed they just might be able to save their friend.

Miriam, still in a frenzy and never having been a cool head in stressful situation, could barely believe the inaction she was witnessing and the eerie calm between Michael and Liz. “This is no time to be laying hands, Michael! Liz! Sweet needs a real doctor! A hospital! Damnit! You aren’t even religious!”

When neither Liz or Michael acknowledged her pleas, merely closing their eyes to find their focus Miriam balked, “Well, someone has to call!”

She picked up the phone that was just behind the bar and with shaking hands raised her fingers to the buttons, willing herself to hold it together, get Sweet help. Miriam didn’t notice Michael’s eyes had flown open and his free hand was extended. She shrieked when the phone was yanked from her hands, by some unseen force, and smashed into the mirrored wall behind the bar shattering it into a million pieces.

“Sweet will be dead before they even get in the fucking ambulance!” Michael hollered at the shell shocked woman. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself, “I adore you Mir, but right now I need you to shut up and trust me! Liz and I can help Sweet!”
Miriam nodded slowly, too shaken by what Michael had just done to speak, or even question how it was that he and Liz could accomplish what only trained professionals could. Michael turned back to Sweet, who was noticeably fading and weak, and cradled the nearly unconscious old man’s head in his hand.

A tear slid down Michael’s cheek, a son shaken by his father’s fragile and blue appearance, “Sweet... Come on, Pop...” Michael whispered, his tears strangling his voice, “...Open your eyes... let us help you...”

Liz let loose new tears at the boyish tone in Michael’s voice and watched as Sweet obeyed Michael’s request, fluttering his eyes, his chest rising and falling with his strangled breaths. He raised a weather old hand up to Michael’s face, patting his cheek.

“S’ok Son... my time to go...” he tried to reassure Michael.

“Bullshit old man.” Michael told him insistently, “I’m still too stupid for you to die. Liz and I are gonna take care of you, but you have to keep your eyes open and look at me.”

Sweet couldn’t understand what Michael or Liz could possibly do for him, the death rattle already beginning to shake, but he did as Michael asked, staring deeply into Michael’s amber eyes. They both took a sharp breath as the felt their minds connect when Liz began to emit her healing energy.

Michael felt Liz’s initial struggle to keep the energy flowing and as promised, willed his own through his hand into hers. Michael had never felt more powerful and clear in his whole life and he would later wonder if Max felt the same thing when he’d healed all those people. Liz, Kyle, Jim, the children in the hospital...

Flashes of Sweet’s life danced before Michael’s eyes, from boyhood to the present. He felt Sweet’s fatherly pride in him. His love for his “son”. Never being more happy and content in his life than he was in this time, seeing his son truly in love and loved in return. He didn’t want to die, but he was resigned, knowing he’d be leaving Michael in good hands, Liz’s.

Miriam watched from her place at the bar, gripping the counter, unable to fathom what she was witnessing. Michael, had somehow thrown the phone from her hands, yet hadn’t moved from his place on the floor, nor had he even come close to touching the phone. And now she saw an unearthly glowing coming from both Michael and Liz’s hands, concentrating some sort of energy on Sweet’s chest. Was it God working through these two fallen angels?

After a few more seconds the soft glow began to fade. Sweet took a large deep breath, as though a baby getting its first lung full of life. Gone were the short desperate breaths of a life ending. Liz opened her eyes and looked across Sweet at Michael. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on both their brows and their own breathing seemed labored. Michael squeezed Liz’s hand still resting on Sweet’s chest, unable to verbalize his thanks for her help. For not questioning him, or stopping him. For knowing how much Sweet meant to him. No words could pass between them if they tried. <i>Together</I>, they’d saved a life. How does one express that feeling?

Their hands parted as Sweet slowly sat up. Michael steadied the still weary and wholly confused man. Sweet could hardly believe what had happened, didn’t know how to explain it, despite being a child of God. One moment he felt as if an elephant had sat on his chest, and it seemed he was heading for the pearly gates. And in the next moment he was staring into his “son’s” amber eyes, finding a calm unexplainable. He felt Liz and Michael’s hands resting on his chest and a soothing warmth, some sort of electric energy replacing the excruciating pain that had taken up residence in his heart. He knew he should have been frightened, but something in Michael’s eyes told him he had nothing to fear, almost as if it was Michael’s voice in his head reassuring him.

Sweet had heard tell of ones life passing before their eyes when death was closing in, but he couldn’t understand the images he was seeing. It was as if it were someone else’s life, Michael’s. He saw a small boy of maybe six struggling to get out of some sort of encasement, He was naked, cold and incredibly frightened. He ran and ran into the night until he thought his lungs might burst. He didn’t know who to trust, how to communicate or even who he was.

Next Sweet saw that same boy a few years later, crouched inside a small closet, his bloody lip staining his t-shirt and a dam of tears, being fought not to shed, filled his amber eyes. The stench of alcohol hung in the air, raised voices filled his ears and the boy covered his head in an effort to drown out the madness around him.

Years seemed to fly by as Sweet stared at those same haunting eyes, only now in the form of a teenage Michael. His hair was wild and unruly, his clothes worn and faded, his eyes narrowing at anyone who so much as looked in his general direction and in his gate he tried to project confidence when all he’d done his whole life was live in fear.

He was in a diner of some sort, with a dark-haired boy, when a familiar brunette passed their table in a green uniform, plastic antennae bobbing on her head. Liz. The dark- haired boy stared after Liz wistfully and while Michael appreciated Liz’s beauty he could only roll his eyes at his friend’s crush. Moments later their was a struggle in the diner. A gun went off and Michael watched as Liz fell to the floor, blood staining the front of her uniform. The dark-haired boy, without thought, rushed to her side, tearing open her top despite Michael’s protests.

Michael ran to a vehicle, honking for the dark-haired boy catching a glimpse of Liz, holding her uniform together, not only alive, but her stomach unmarred by the violence that should have killed her. Sweet got the feeling that it was the beginning of where life led them to. Where, although for the most part separate, this was the moment Michael and Liz’s lives were inextricably melded together.

After that the images came too fast for Sweet to get any sort of real information on. There were dark suits and military fatigues. Guns and loud explosions went off around them. There was a ship, unlike anything he’d ever seen before shooting out from a rock formation. Liz in white, a bride to the dark haired boy. The kiss Michael shared with her when he left. There was love, heartache, hate, anger and fear. And death. Far to much to be experienced by two people still in the spring of their years.

Sweet looked over at Michael and saw worry in they young man’s eyes. He was scared of what Sweet’s reaction would be to what just happened, “You okay?” Michael panted, his breathing still very labored from his and Liz’s efforts.

Sweet nodded numbly, glancing at Liz and finding her in the same state as Michael, exhausted and scared. Sweet turned back to Michael patting his shoulder, “Jesus Son... I always knew you was touched by God, but...”

“God...” Liz breathed, her eyes drooping with fatigue, “...had very little to do with this, Sweet.”

“Would someone tell me what the hell just happened?” Miriam asked, finally feeling confident enough to move, joining them on the floor to check Sweet over.

Michael took what energy he had left and crawled over to Liz, knowing the drain of energy would take a far greater toll on her small, human body. He knew she wouldn’t want him to fuss over her so he merely lent his body as a support, letting her lean against him, so she wouldn’t topple over.

“We,” Liz said in answer to Miriam’s question, gesturing between herself and Michael, “... just cheated Death out of one soul too soon to be taken.”

“B-But how?” Miriam asked, wiping Sweet’s damp brow with a bar towel, still in shock and needing a rational explanation for what she’d just seen, “I mean Sweet was dying right before our eyes... You said yourself that there was no time... There is no earthly reason Sweet should be alive right now.”

Sweet watched Michael and Liz give each other a tired smirk at Miriam’s choice of words and though dumbfounded at what the answer indeed was, he couldn’t help but smile, “I think you’re right Miriam. There is no <i>earthly</I> reason... is there, Michael?”

Michael looked to Liz nervously for approval not needed, “Its your story to tell, Michael.” she told him, knowing it should be Michael who told people who’d become like real parents to him, about his origins, his journeys, everything that brought him to here and now.

Michael had finally found someone he could trust enough to share his story with. The good, the bad and the ugly. Liz already knew the tale chapter and verse. She’d been through it with him for the most part, but now his story could be told to fresh ears, without fear of reprisal or condemnation for what he was. Sweet would never turn his back on him, no matter what and while Miriam was shocked, Michael knew her feelings were the same. He was tired of holding back something from people he’d come to love. He’d done that far too much lately and the weight of that load was becoming unbearable.

Michael nodded at Liz, acknowledging that in the wake of nearly losing someone, so dear to them forever, whatever was left unsettled between the two of them would have to wait. Liz slid her hand into Michael’s, in an unconscious lending of strength, what little was left in her possession. Michael took a deep breath and scratched his eyebrow only now realizing the difficult task of beginning his story. Where to start? How does one begin a tale like this?

“I guess I’ll start in Roswell, New Mexico, 1947 when the ship I was housed in crashed landed in the desert...”

“I knew that was no weather balloon.” Miriam whispered to Sweet.

~*~

Michael spent the better part of three hours explaining everything he could to Sweet and Miriam. Occasionally he’d look to Liz to fill in any gaps, but essentially, as Liz had said earlier, it was Michael’s story to tell.

“So, Liz here, is human? But when Max saved her, healed her, she changed?” Sweet asked, a little befuddled.

“Well, it took a couple years, but yeah....” Michael confirmed.

“Don’t worry,” Liz said winking at Sweet. He’d been staring at the now shimmering silver handprint on his chest for some time, “That goes away in a couple days.”

Miriam snorted, “Just don’t wear anything with low necklines.” She teased, finally able to relax once she’d heard Michael’s story and knew there was nothing to fear, not that she could have ever imagined being afraid of Michael.

Michael seemed visibly relieved that Miriam had Sweet had taken the news so well, and had never once questioned if what he was telling them wasn’t the truth. Once again he realized he’d underestimated the capacity of the human heart, even his own.

“Well, this certainly explains your tendency for the mysterious.” Sweet chuckled, and then sobered placing a gentle hand on Michael’s shoulder, “I always knew you were special Michael, this just makes things a lot clearer. Thank you, Son.”

Michael nodded, but a blush crept to his cheeks at Sweet’s gratitude, when he felt he was the one who should be the one thanking Sweet. Since leaving his life behind five year earlier, Michael had strode to create a new life for himself. To realize a few dreams he’d kept tucked away in his heart. His painting. Making it on his own. And for the most part he’d done just that, but it was Sweet who gave him one thing he believed he was too old to have or even want, but craved nonetheless. And honest to God father. How could Michael not open his world up to this man, when Sweet had opened so many things for him?

Fatigue was widespread among the four friends and Miriam decided Sweet needed rest. Batting away the old man’s protests that he was perfectly fine, she promised Michael that she’d keep and eye on the stubborn codger just in case.

Michael and Liz were secure in the knowledge that their secret was safe with these two gentle souls and there was still much to talk about, but they were asking a lot of Miriam and Sweet to soak in what information had been given. But they weren’t scared of their two young friends. If anything they felt honored by their trust and Sweet by Michael’s devotion to him, enough to save his old life.

Before they left Miriam pulled Michael into a fierce hug, “Sug, I always believed there was something more out there than just us. I just never thought I’d be selling that ‘something more’s’ paintings in my gallery.”

Michael smiled, “You said my pieces would triple in price if I died. Imagine what they’d do if people found out I was an alien.”

Miriam raised an amused eyebrow at Michael, “ So... this secret thing...You’re really attached to it?”

“Our lives sorta depend on it.” Liz answered with a chuckle.

“Fine...” Miriam sighed comically, “We’ll just have to get by with Michael’s considerable talent.”

~*~

After seeing Miriam and Sweet out, Michael and Liz walked upstairs to the apartment in silence, the overall emotion of the night having rendered them speechless. It had been a merciful long while since either of them had tasted death, and once again with someone they loved deeply. Just that taste alone would have depleted them, but combined with the euphoria of working together to reclaim the life of their loved one, left them utterly exhausted.

“I ...um ...think I’m just gonna go lie down.” Liz said softly, once they were inside.

“Um yeah...” Michael agreed, “ Me too.”

The day’s and night’s events played over and over again in Michael’s mind as he watched Liz carry her sandals down the hall to her room. He followed behind her, unsure of how to tell her how grateful he was she’d been there to help him with Sweet.

“Liz....” he called out gently. When she turned to look up at him he continued, “Thanks... for Sweet...”

Liz nodded knowing how difficult it was for Michael to express his gratitude over something that meant so much to him. Michael gave her a small smile and brought his hand up to the doorknob of his room.

“Michael....” she said in a tear harshened voice, asking him to meet her eyes, “I filed for divorce from Max.”

And there it was, her confession, said merely in passing instead of the grand announcement she’d planned on. Given yet another brush with death they’d experienced together, Liz felt her news held far less importance than it had before. The way Michael’s eyes widened slightly and his whole body seemed to relax, Liz knew her point had been made, and that Michael would going to bed with one less burden on his heart. She wasn’t going to leave him. For tonight, that could be enough.

~*~

Michael had watched Liz disappear into her bedroom and found himself unable to move into his own. <i>That’s</i> what she had been trying to tell him that morning. That’s why it was about Max, but all he could manage to feel was simple relief, followed by the unknown. Liz was free. But could he still have her? Was that really the only thing standing in between them?

Michael’s fatigue was forgotten and he made his way down the hall and into the studio. As he walked in the room he immediately glanced over at a paint-cloth covered canvas against the wall. A piece too personal to even show. He removed the cloth studying it intently. He hadn’t even be sure why he’d painted it, except that it seemed to answer so many questions and held the true measure of the dilemma that raged inside him. To have Liz, or not.

Here and now, it seemed that having Liz was becoming more and more a reality, so why was he still terrified. Shouldn’t he be grateful? Isn’t that what he’d desired for so long? Was he so not used to getting what he wanted, that when it was presented to him, he ran?

Michael took one last look at the painting before turning towards the balcony shaking his head, “She’s wrong.” he muttered, “I’m not a jackass.... I’m a fucking coward.”

~*~

Liz was about to undress for bed, her fatigue so measurable she felt she could sleep for a week and still be tired, but she remembered she’d left her purse on the dining room table and with the headache she was forming, she knew she’d need aspirin soon. Michael never took any drugs, so the only bottle they had was in that purse.

With a heavy sigh Liz shuffled out of her bedroom, past Michael’s, retrieving her purse from where she’d left it. She was digging around for the aspirin, when she passed Michael’s room and noticed the door wide open, but he was nowhere to be found. He was as tired as she was, where could he be?

Her eyes fell to the to the studio’s door, finding it slightly ajar, took a chance he was there and pushed it open. She stepped inside quietly scanning the room for him finally catching him out on the balcony leaning over the railing with his head in his hands. The gentle breeze of the night air caused wisps of his long hair to dance in the moonlight. He created quite a portrait himself, if he could only see the beauty inside of him, Liz thought.

Sensing Michael needed the time alone for quiet reflection, after everything that had happened that night, she stepped back to return to her bedroom. She paused suddenly when her eye caught the painting Michael, only minutes earlier had uncovered. At first she thought it was just one of his New Orleans pieces, but upon a second look she realized it was another one of her. Why hadn’t she seen this at the gallery? Why didn’t Michael want this one shown? Was it unfinished? Or was it just too powerful, too personal to submit to the public?

Curiosity got the better of Liz and she walked slowly towards the painting, every step making the image clearer and making her weaker. His other paintings had the same effect, why should this one be any different? But it was different and so powerful with emotion, that the purse in Liz’s hands dropped to the floor and she felt herself sway.

She should have been surprised when she felt Michael’s hand at the small of her back, steadying her, but she wasn’t. She welcomed the support she knew she would always have with him, even when she didn’t know she needed it. Michael always let her lean on him and he still managed to make her stand on her own two feet.

Michael had heard Liz come in, recognizing the soft padding her feet made on the hardwood floors and the squeaky board in the studio’s entryway she always forgot about. A mild panic had settled inside him when he realized he hadn’t covered the painting. That she’d see his most raw and naked piece and he wasn’t sure if she was ready, given her reaction to his other works. Last time, she ran.

Not wanting to alarm her he crept inside slowly, taking as cautious and quiet steps as she did, doing his best to read her body language, for any hint of distress. When she stopped, standing only a few feet away from the painting, Michael saw her sway and reached a hand out instinctively to steady her. He found himself unafraid of what she felt because what ever it was, it was powerful and that was the point of the piece.

Liz just stared, tears she’d thought she’d cried out dropped onto her cheeks. Why was this piece so different from the others? Because in this one, Michael had included himself. All of his other paintings were taken from his point of view, but not this one.

It was a cross section of Liz’s room and the hallway. On one side, in her room, Liz lay sleeping peacefully on her stomach, naked from the waist up and her skin was bathed in the morning sunlight. On the other side of the door was Michael, wearing grey sweats and no shirt, the hallway was darkened and his hair was hiding some of his features, but Liz could make out that his eyes were closed and he was leaning his head against her bedroom door an almost pained expression on his face.

Liz wondered if this piece had come from Michael’s imagination, because she didn’t remember anything like what was on that canvas, ever happening. She was about to ask Michael where it had come from when her eye caught something red in his hand. Her address book. Her breath caught when she realized that it had been nearly a month ago that he’d stolen her address book to call Kyle. He must’ve seen her ... he’d loved her, even then?

She reached back with her hand sliding it into Michael’s, feeling his breath on her neck and shoulders as he wrapped the arm steadying her back, around her waist, spreading his palm against her stomach.

“What’s it called?” Liz asked him in a strangled whisper.

“<i>Dangerous</I>.” Michael answered pulling Liz closer to him.

Liz shivered at the low huskiness in Michael’s voice, wondering how he knew the perfect pitch at which to make his seduction of her that much easier. He must have felt her shake because a moment later she was pressed even closer to his hard body, flush against muscles she’d only had moments to appreciate that morning. The hand tangled with her own loosened its gentle grip and began tracing delicate circles up her arm, causing goose bumps on an otherwise humid Louisiana night.

“Am I? Dangerous?” Liz breathed, sure that Michael was the only thing holding her upright, because her legs sure has hell weren’t.

She felt Michael nod against her hair, “To me... Yes, you are very dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Fear.” Michael answered simply, not needing to think about his answer.

What had always gotten in the way of Michael expressing himself was his fear and as he’d told Sweet earlier that evening, loving Liz Parker as much as he did terrified him. She got into his chest and burrowed so deep into his heart that Michael felt like what Sweet must have experienced that night, like his heart would burst. And the worst thing of all was that he’d let her. Love always hurt for Michael, because he fought so much to resist its warm embrace.

But after that evenings brush with death, nearly losing someone he loved without them knowing how they’d affected his life, Michael realized he had to stop running away from the things that frightened him. Even men who choose to reside in the shadows cannot go untouched by love. Although Michael had sworn, after what he saw as failure with Maria, that he would never let love like that back into his life, he forgot what a worthy and powerful foe it was as it was visiting his love for Liz upon him three fold.

As strong as Michael was, he was never a match for the dark eyes, olive skin and gentle heart that was Liz and it was beyond time to be brave and accept whatever may come from it. Running away from his feelings had only served to push Liz away and as he found that morning when the possibility of her departure had arisen, losing her scared him more than loving her ever did.

“Why do I scare you so much, Michael?” Liz asked, her voice still strangled with tamped emotion, “I’m still just me.”

Michael bent his head down, brushing his mouth over the soft skin of Liz’s shoulder, moving his way up her neck with the lightest caress of his lips, almost as if they weren’t even touching her skin. He felt her breathing stop, as if any other action besides his kisses would take away from the sensation they delivered. He turned her around in his arms, needing her to face him. If he couldn’t tell her his feelings, looking into the eyes that had become his blissful undoing, he wouldn’t be able to do it at all.

“<i>Just you?</I>,” Michael began, brushing and errant hair off of Liz’s face, his light touch nearly burning her skin, “Liz, you scare the hell out of me... you’re so fucking dangerous because... I want you. I want <i>all</I> of you. Your, heart, your soul, your body... everything. I couldn’t settle for anything less and I thought I would be if you were still tied to Max, I’d still be second to him in everything... even loving you.”

“And now?” Liz asked, nearly crumbling at Michael actually admitting what she already knew to be true, he loved her.

Michael sighed, “Now? Now I know you’ll always be with Max in some way. Its what brought us together, brought us here. I have to start trusting that your tie to Max won’t take you away from me.”

“But Michael.... I’m not tied to Max any....” Liz protested.

Michael shook his head, “You are Liz, but its okay. It doesn’t matter. And what’s left of your marriage is a piece of paper, right?”

Liz nodded emphatically, the dam of information she’d been keeping from him breaking inside her, coming out at Maria-like speeds.

“I called Jesse two days after I got here, because Sweet told me I had to decide how much a part of your life I wanted to be... which is huge by the way.... so the paperwork took a week and then that night I missed our talk, I was signing those papers... I just wanted to be free for you, because you deserve all of me, but Max got the papers a week ago... and he’s fighting it and I was so scared that it wouldn’t be enough, even though I lovemppphhhh....”

Liz’s words were cut off by Michael’s mouth covering hers and when his tongue tangled with her own, she forgot what she was saying, melting into the kiss. Michael pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers and watching her hooded eyes struggle to remain open.

“Keep it simple, Parker.” he whispered with a smirk..

Liz smiled up at Michael and clutched at the collar of his shirt possessively, “Mine.” she said in a low sexy growl.

Liz’s act of possession threw fuel on the embers of their desire that morning and Michael claimed her lips, needing only the insistent swiping of his tongue on her bottom lip to open her mouth to him. Once gentle touches turned rough and demanding from both of them. So many times they’d been interrupted when on the brink of a breakthrough, they were determined that even if a nuclear holocaust hit them in the next few moments, their bodies would be found together, joined as one.

Michael urged Liz backwards, his mouth too busy devouring hers to notice the fast approaching wall. They parted when Liz’s back struck the wall with just enough force to cause the painting leaning against it to almost fall forward. Michael was about to ask Liz if she was okay, when a wicked smile came over her face. And she had to ask him if <i>she</I> was dangerous?

Liz reached up to Michael’s shirt collar again, only this time tearing the material open, as he’d done with her jersey that morning, and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She licked her lips at the sight if his bared torso knowing it was all hers. He was all hers. She wasn’t sure where this bout of possession came from, possibly a concentrated feeling that had been forced down during this agonizing month of being so damn close and so damn scared to act. Whatever it was she wasn’t about to ignore it anymore. Michael wanted her, and that meant he got to see all sides of her.

She reached her hand out running her hand from the edge of his pants, teasing the skin just above the button and causing his stomach to flex. She moved upwards stalling in slow circles around his compact chest, her fingernails dancing over his nipples. Just when she managed to elicit a shaking breath from his Michael’s lips, Liz traveled upward caressing his collarbone, finally reaching behind his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers.

Liz begged Michael, with her rough kisses, to be that same man who had come so close to taking her in the kitchen that morning. Ardent, impassioned, rough and almost beyond reason. She didn’t want him to hold back anything for fear it might scare her. If anything it excited her more. She wanted to be treated the way that she felt, hungry, sensual, demanding and all because she was so very much in love with <i>this</I> man.

Liz had seen and felt the power of Michael’s love radiating from his paintings, now she wanted to feel that power coming directly from him, his body. Pulsing through muscles that could envelop her entire body and heating skin she’d so long to touch deliberately. She wanted feel all the things that made him, Michael.

Michael obliged Liz’s need, hell he was grateful at not having to suppress the near consumptive fervency that pulsed inside him. He lifted Liz off the ground and pressed her against the wall with his hips, as he’d done against the refrigerator. He reveled in the unabashed moans that came from deep inside her as their arousals pressed together. He didn’t care if all of New Orleans heard them, if anything he felt the Lady breathe a sigh of relief at two of her precious children finally finding happiness in each other’s arms.

Somehow or another, Michael and Liz knew this was how their first time would be. Five years of repressed sexual energy combined with the euphoria of finally touching each other in ways meaningful and deliberate, it couldn’t have happened any other way. Although, Michael would have gladly given it to her should she have asked, but he knew Liz no longer dreamed of silken sheets, mood music and scented candles. That was the doe-eyed girl from Roswell, New Mexico.

She wasn’t consumed by the perfect ambience or the perfect place, she just wanted to be with him. It seemed to almost make sense that it would be in the studio where so much had been silently expressed and hidden. This was the woman from New Orleans, teeming with life and spice. She was fire. She was dangerous. She was all his.

Michael rained deep biting kisses down her neck, while his hands, gripped and kneaded at her thighs. She squeezed his hips reflexively in answer gripping at his arms and shoulders, not worried about the bruises and scratches she might leave behind, knowing this was the kind of hurt love brought, that Michael would welcome. Although, it seemed the biggest hurt at the moment was coming from the layers of clothing that separated their heats. Who knew a few centimeters of fabric could cause so much torture?

Michael took one of the flimsy straps, holding Liz’s dress to her shoulder, in his teeth, untying it quickly with an insistent tug. He nudged the material down with his nose, his tongue darting out to taste even more of her exposed skin, and rolling her nipple in his tongue once the hardened bud met his lips. He did the same with the other side and the dress collected at her waist.

Liz tangled her hands in Michael’s hair as she felt his hot mouth send electricity through her body when he concentrated on her breasts. Her hips rocked against his in answer to the delight he was visiting upon her. The friction they were creating threatened to send them into early releases. For every rock forward she made, Michael pressed her back harder into the wall, using more and more of his weight, unconcerned with her fragility, for in this moment, both knew fragility had no place.

It had been so long since either of them had been intimate with anyone, the smallest touch in just the right spot would have ended their tryst in an all too soon bliss and they were both tired of the foreplay. Hell, that’s all that month had been between them, one gigantic round of foreplay. Liz was beyond ready to feel the power that would come from having Michael inside her. They would have a lifetime for tender touches and long slow hours in bed. Their need now was too immediate to ignore and did nothing to sully the love between them.

With great effort Liz pulled Michael’s face up to hers pressing her inflamed lips to his. She reached between their damp bodies and with the flick of her wrist, undid his pants pushing them off of his hips, pooling them at his feet. He hissed against her mouth when he felt he small hand wrap around his erection, stroking him in a slow building rhythm. He arched his hips forward both groaning when he came in contact with her wet folds.

“Do you <i>ever</I> wear underwear?” Michael panted against her lips.

Liz let out a small chuckle, “This coming from the man who owns not one pair of boxers or anything even close to resembling underwear?”

Michael smirked back, amused that even in the throes their first sexual encounter they could still rib each other. His smirk disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when Liz rocked her hips forward, sinking herself ever so slightly onto the head of his erection. His hands gripped her hips possessively , halting her movements, though the animal inside him taunted him with the need to drive hard and fast into her body.

Michael sucked her bottom lip into his mouth staring back at her now midnight eyes, “And you have to ask me <i>why</I> I think you’re dangerous?”

Liz tried to fight against Michael’s strong hands, needing to feel him completely inside her. It wasn’t fair when he had the upper hand to tease. She tried arching her back, brushing her nipples against his sweat soaked chest and began nibbling his jaw line.

“Please Michael...” she breathed against his ear, “Finish this.”

Michael growled at her request sinking himself deeper before stopping suddenly. His lusty growl replaced with one of frustration. They had the love. They had the fire. They even had the all consuming desire, but one thing they didn’t have, was protection. Given the reasons Liz had left Max, Michael didn’t believe she was ready to jump into parenthood with him, as much surprising appeal as that held for him. Liz stopped her kisses and sat back studying his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, full of concern and desperation.

Michael shook his head, leaning his forehead down against her slick chest, “Liz, I want this... so much... but... but we don’t have any protection... and we are nothing if not a potent race.” he picked his head up to meet hers, “I’m sorry... I wasn’t exactly planning on this happening.”

Michael grew confused when instead of hearing a whimper of frustration on Liz’s part, he heard her giggle mischievously, the devil dancing in her eyes, “What are you up to, Parker?”

Liz gave Michael a look of feigned innocence and brought one of her hands out of Michael’s hair and extended it behind him. The purse that had fallen on the floor rose off the ground and flew into Liz’s hand.

“Good thing one of us was prepared.” she said digging into her purse, her finger brushing the aspirin bottle she’d originally been seeking for a headache long since forgotten.

Michael’s jaw nearly dropped when she pulled out a condom, tapping his nose with the foil package, “Don’t tell me you <i>knew</I> this was gonna happen...”

Liz shook her head, “I wasn’t sure... I knew I wanted it to...” she answered, and then for the first time since they began their heated exchange she blushed, “I hoped once I told you about the divorce you’d stop running.... so I raided the machine in the men’s bathroom at the bar.”

Michael grinned wide taking the condom out of her hand and kissing her feverishly, “An investment that just keeps on giving.” he mused and then pulled back kissing her tenderly, “Thank you.”

Liz nodded and licked her lips again in anticipation as Michael secured the condom, their passion momentarily interrupted with the necessity for protection. Michael wetted her lips with his own, building their need with teasing brushes of their heats. Liz clawed at his backside, trying to bring him inside her, growing frustrated by his teasing.

Michael pulled his mouth from hers, his tongue darting out playfully at the corners of her mouth, his grip on her surprisingly strong hips tightening. He held her eyes with his own, all traces of their amber and brown colors consumed by a lusty blackness. He needed to see her face when they joined, memorize the expression.

“God, I love you.” he growled as he surged forward, almost violently, sheathing himself fully inside her.

Liz cried out blissfully at hearing his tender words, accompanied by his vigorous entrance. It was more powerful than even she imagined and she was grateful. Once inside her, Michael took a moment to pause. The concentration of emotions and sensations were nearly unbearable and if she didn’t have that pause she wouldn’t have been able to stop the tidal wave that had been building inside her for so long.

Michael <i>had</I> to pause, feeling the same thing Liz did. The power he felt at having her completely surrounding him, squeezing him mercilessly, pulsing around him, it was too much to bear physically after going untouched for so long. He knew it wouldn’t last long, they were both so close before he’d entered her, but he wanted to prolong it for just a few minutes longer.

Liz opened her eyes, shut so tightly in rapture only a moment before. Her heart broke at the pained expression on Michael’s face, it almost mirrored that of the painting that had touched off their union. He was trying to hide how desperately close he was, thinking of her satisfaction and staving off his own. The muscles of his arms and back were petrified with strain and his jaw was clenched making his glorious cheekbones stand out even more.

He didn’t know that the mere shift of his hips or hers would send her over the edge and his restraint was unnecessary. Whether it had been five years or two years, so many sensations concentrated in such a short period of time would have undone the strongest of souls.

“Michael...” Liz panted softly, asking him to open his eyes. Michael shook his head fearing if he so much as looked at Liz, he might come.

“Michael...” Liz said a bit more insistently, arching her hips and pushing him impossibly deeper inside her.

The simple action caused Michael eyes to fly open. Did she know what she was doing to him? And as he stared into her eyes, there was that danger he loved so much. Liz knew <i>exactly</I> what she was doing to him, because she was in exactly the same place.

“Liz....” he whispered hoarsely.

“Michael... I’m with you....” she breathed, placing a gentle kiss on his slightly parted mouth. Her eyes flicked back up to his, “I love you.”

Michael couldn’t contain the shuddering breath and the tears that stung his eyes at her love directed so honestly at him. He released his tight grip on her hips, letting his body and her tightly locked legs keep her anchored to him. He took her hands in his pressing them slightly above her head. Clasping them tightly as he pulled his hips back to slide out of her, surging forward again.

Liz’s eyes flashed and her breath caught at the need sweeping through her body. She pushed her hips back in answer, asking Michael to speed up his movements, bring them both closer to the release they so desperately needed. Michael obeyed, barely in control of his lower body anyway.

Liz felt herself coming apart in Michael arms and she arched herself off the wall in a rapturous cry, unable to distinguish Michael’s name from God’s as her release seeped into her every molecule and burst them apart. Michael bit his lip watching Liz achieve her peak in front of his eyes and the firm knowledge that he’d been the one to give her that.

With one final hard thrust into Liz’s body Michael felt his own release slam into him, the growl it elicited echoing in the room and causing his body become rigid and shaky. His eyes momentarily were blinded by the pure pleasure that ripped through his veins and he dropped Liz’s hands, bracing himself against the wall. Liz, though weak and limp from her release, held on tightly to Michael as she felt him throb inside her and despite her precarious position, felt she was the only thing keeping Michael upright.

The thick bayou air did little to cool their now slick bodies. Hot breaths, light kisses, and whispers of affection were exchanged. Their soaked hair stuck to their faces in what Michael would describe as a beautiful mess.

When he felt strong enough, Michael removed himself from inside Liz with a hiss, experiencing the agony it was to not be a part of her. He set her down, gently spreading his palm over stomach to steady her when he saw that her legs were still wobbly. He waved his other hand over his now spent groin an tried to find his own balance after such a powerful experience.. Liz let her now thoroughly wrinkled and damp dress fall off her body, leaving her standing completely naked with Michael in the moonlight. He reached out taking her into his strong embrace, feeling all her skin against his, consumed by the sudden need to just hold her in his arms.

When Michael released her, Liz dropped a kiss on his chest where his heart still pounded furiously with their exertions. Words could have been exchanged, but they felt no need to. All that had needed to be said was done with their bodies and hearts.

Both of their eyes fell to the hallway and without a word they began to repair themselves, Michael reluctantly letting Liz leave his touch to pull up his pants and Liz grabbing his torn shirt swathing her small body in it. Once in a state of semi dress Liz took Michael’s hand, leading him out of the room and down the hallway.

Michael didn’t know where they were headed, he didn’t care as long as it was with Liz. He grinned at how tiny she looked in his shirt, although thinking she definitely made it look better than he ever could have.

Liz arrived at her bedroom, stepping across the thresh hold. She tried to pull Michael inside but found him resistant. She turned around looking up at him in confusion, “Michael?”

Michael wouldn’t have had any trouble going into any other room aside from Liz’s, but this was his painting come to life. Only this time he wasn’t sneaking into her room to steal anything. She was letting him into her room, inviting him into her bed and her life completely. They were beyond best friends now, the line demolished by what they’d just done in the studio. He wasn’t sure why, but the moment caused him pause. He was staring at Liz through an open door instead of fighting his want for her through a closed one. Guess the reason was clear after all.

Liz’s heart melted as she realized the reason behind Michael’s pause. The painting. The reality of their relationship evolving to this point at blinding speeds. He wasn’t scared, just awed and she had to admit to the same feeling. She wasn’t just inviting another man into her bed, it was Michael. He wasn’t just her friend, or the man she harbored a secret love for anymore. He was her lover. It wasn’t just him making love to her in that studio, she’d made love to him as well. He’d invited her into his heart and she knew what a guarded and delicate that place was. She’d fought to get to it and she had to admit to feeling humbled that it was a battle she’d managed to win.

Liz tugged on Michael’s hand trying to bring him inside her room, “Come to bed, Michael... Please.”

Michael let out a breath, somehow needing to hear Liz’s invitation verbalized. He looked down at the invisible line her thresh hold created and watched his foot take one step over it, and then another. No going back. She’d let him in and he’d let her in.

Michael reached for the door and shut it behind him, leaving that scared little boy on the other side, because now he had his brass ring.

~*~

Michael and Liz lay in bed spent from a decidedly longer love making session. Taking their time, getting to know each other’s bodies, what touches made them hum and which ones made them scream. A fact gathering experiment Liz threw her whole self into, much to Michael’s amusement and extreme pleasure. Also amused that not only had Liz been “prepared” for their earlier actions in the studio, but it seemed she planned for many more after that, telling Michael he’d definitely need to order more condoms for the men’s room.

“Not that I mind you depleting my stock,” Michael teased as he stared down at Liz, propped on one elbow, “But why don’t you let me take care of the birth control from now on. Some of the older patrons might keel over at the urinals if they see you in there raiding the machine for a quickie.”

Liz giggled, “Noted.”

“Healing Sweet kicked my ass,” he continued, “I don’t think I can handle doing that on a regular basis.”

He traced finger over Liz’s kiss swollen lips, “And <i>you</I> seem to have a strong effect on men’s hearts.”

Liz smiled up at him, “Well, I have it on good authority that I am, <i>dangerous</I>.”

“Lethal.” Michael added, dropping a kiss on the lips his fingers had been caressing, bringing his hand down to her sheet covered stomach, rubbing idle circles on the flat expanse.

Liz felt Michael’s arousal, swell against her leg and her eyes widened, “Again?”

“What?” Michael asked in feigned indignance, “You try going five years without sex. I have a lot of time to make up for.”

Liz rolled at her eyes at him, and stopped him before he leaned in for another kiss, “Fine, but I need you to answer me one thing that’s been bugging me all night.”

Michael fell back against his pillow with an exaggerated sigh, “I’ve been out of the game so long I’ve forgotten that chicks like to get all Chatty Cathy afterwards.” he teased.

“Don’t make me send you to your room.” Liz growled through a chuckle. Michael held his hands up in surrender, far from stupid enough to keep baiting Liz.

“The paintings at the gallery, the ones not for sale...” she began, “Sweet and I think you’re hanging <i>Finding Ulysses</I> in the bar...”

“Yep.” Michael confirmed, “It’s going up in the wooden space between the mirror, behind the bar... well once you and I, you know, restore the mirror.”

Liz nodded, biting her lip, “Miriam told me that you said, <i>Little Miss Scientist</I> is going to a friend. Now I know you’re sending that portrait of Lexi to Isabel for her birthday, so...”

“Who’s the friend?” Michael finished, watching Liz nod. Michael took a breath, “Your parents.”

Liz’s breath caught in her throat, “M-My parents?”

Michael nodded, “Yeah. All they have of you are the photos you send them, so I called them one night when you were watching the bar and asked them if they’d want it, which of course they did.”

“But why <i>that</I> painting?” Liz furrowed her brow, “I mean why not the one of me doing the books? <i>Scientist</I> will only remind them of what I could have become if I hadn’t...”

“Who says you aren’t?” Michael asked her plainly.

Liz stared down at him, “I, well... I...”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” Michael laughed, “You could go back to school if you wanted and now you can’t blame Max for holding you back.”

“But I can’t afford it. Tuition is so expensive and I can’t ask my parents to pay for it, not now.” Liz argued.

Michael smirked up at her, “Good thing you have a scholarship.”

“A scholarshi...Michael!”

Realization dawned on Liz that he scholarship Miriam had told her about that evening was meant for her. Michael was going to pay for her education.

“Don’t say no Liz. I already talked to your dad about it and he wouldn’t let me do it unless he paid for at least half of it. He’s almost as stubborn as you are.” Michael told her sitting up.

“But don’t you need that money...” Liz argued.

Michael shook his head, “Bar’s paid for and the revenue it brings in more than pays for anything I need, which isn’t much. The money I make from my painting will just sit in the bank. I want to do this for you, Liz.”

Liz could hardly believe what she was hearing. Michael had planned on doing this even if they hadn’t admitted their feelings. He was trying to be a friend, helping another friend realize dreams she hadn’t completely given up on.

“Liz?” Michael nudged her when he felt she’d been silent too long.

Liz nodded, leaning up to kiss Michael in a hungry kiss, sending him back against the pillow. Michael couldn’t help but chuckle as she peppered him with quick kisses of gratitude.

“My woman is turned on by education. God, I love the irony?”

~*~

The next morning, Michael woke feeling like he’d slept for a thousand years. He opened his eyes taking in the deep green walls and smiling. Recalling the one other time he’d woken up in Liz’s bed disoriented. New Years Eve, 2002. He’d woken up with an alien-sized hangover and the smell of Liz all around him.. A few minutes later she’d come out of the bathroom swathed in a large robe, towel drying her hair. If he’d only known then what he knew now, But even so, he wouldn’t have changed a thing, because all of it, led them here.

Smile still firmly planted, on his face Michael rolled over to take her in his arms, fully intending on taking advantage of a luxury he hadn’t even entertained all those years ago, and found her side of the bed empty. He sat up quickly scanning the room. He was normally a light sleeper and would have figured he’d have felt her leave him, but given everything that had happened the night before and the relief at having Liz’s love, he’d slept like a baby.

Michael looked around the small room for his clothes and found them nowhere in sight. Instead he found his grey sweats folded neatly at the bottom of the bed. He grabbed them quickly and threw them on, crying out in pain as he stubbed his toe on the leg of Liz’s bed, unfamiliar with the obstacles in her room.

He threw open the door to her room, the smell of coffee and bacon hitting his nose and limped out to the living room. He let out a large sigh of relief, unsure where his sudden bout of paranoia at her leaving had come from, when he saw her standing in the living room, wearing her red jersey and staring at something on wall, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand.

Michael was about to announce his presence when he saw what Liz had been staring at. The painting, their painting, was hanging on the wall above the couch, sitting proudly for anyone who came into their home to see.

Liz had heard Michael’s scrambling in the bedroom and turned to him, “You don’t mind do you? I just felt like it belonged here.”

Michael nodded his head limping over to her and wrapping his arms around her. Yeah, it belonged there. It was a tribute to how far they’d come. It belonged there as much as Liz did.

~*~

TBC...

[dreaming of the incrowd]

oh, that was so sweet, Michael sending the portrait to Liz's parents...and I love that he isn't willing to give up on her dream

[Peachykin]

Chapter 11

The end of September rolled around the James household, which meant only one thing, Isabel’s birthday. It was the one special occasion that Kyle forbade Isabel from planning, organizing and generally stamping her Nazi act upon it. While Isabel was far from pleased that her husband had forbid her from doing anything, she had to admit a sense of excitement at what he would plan for her each year. Sometimes surprises really were fun.

When Liz was still with them, in Colorado, Kyle would enlist her help, making sure she could take care of any girlie stuff Isabel might enjoy. They were grateful for Lexi’s presence once she was born, for she aided them in keeping Isabel’s ever present nose out of the planning. An unwitting accomplice of only at few weeks of age initially. This year even though only two and half, she could take a much more active role in keeping her mommy away from the party plans, having inherited her father’s sense of sneakiness and being able to keep a secret once she was told of one.

With Liz having filed the divorce papers in early August, Kyle could hardly depend on Max to help with the party that year. Max had been in a state of shock, followed by outright frustration upon receiving those papers. He realized that his marriage indeed was one step closer to ending, when in his mind, Liz hadn’t given it a fair shot. Jesse had been very little help, not telling him Liz’s location and that all communication would go through him. How was Max supposed to plead his case to his wife if he had no idea where she was?

Jesse was able to tell him that when he had spoken to Liz, that she was happy, settled, and that Max could give her no greater gift than her freedom. That if he truly loved her, he would have recognized how unhappy she’d become and that letting her go was the only true act of love Max could show her now.

Jesse’s words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. Max, was by no means stupid. He knew things between he and Liz had been bad for a while before he left. He’d seen how unhappy she was, and he thought he knew exactly what could bring them together. What would make their life complete, a child of their own. Only that seemed to be the one thing that had driven her away. It had been a mistake to think that child would fix things between them, but he really thought Liz wanted the same things he did. He thought their dreams were in tandem, but apparently they weren’t.

Max just wanted his wife back. She’d been gone for over a year and his heart still ached like it did the day he’d come home from work and found her gone. No note. No explanations. Just gone. Not unlike Michael had in the years prior. He hadn’t given up on finding his brother either. Until Liz left Max still hunted for clues as to Michael’s whereabouts, hoping to bring the family back together, but he realized Maria’s leaving left Michael alone. Max only hoped that Michael had managed to find Maria and they had mended their fences.

Max just wanted another chance to get things right with Liz. For better or worse? Wasn’t that what the minister had said? So, he’d mistakenly thought Liz wanted children. He told himself he could handle not expanding their family, if it meant Liz would return to him. He had a son out there, with another family, but he could survive knowing he had a legacy, even if Zan didn’t carry his name. And maybe in time, once they worked things out, Liz’s refusal to bear children would soften. Maybe more time spent with Lexi, would help her see the joy a child could bring. Maybe.

So with Max preoccupied and seemingly more driven to find Liz than ever, Kyle had to once again, though it was risky, enlist the help of he co-party planner, Liz. As he sat back surveying the party that had come together, a small affair, a Mardi Gras theme, with some of Isabel’s co-workers and his employees, Max and Lexi, Kyle chuckled at the memory of calling Liz one morning, only to have the phone answered by a winded Michael.

~*~<i>Three Weeks Earlier</I>~*~

The phone at the Joyce-Jeffries household was on it’s fourth ring and Kyle was preparing to hang up when strained and seemingly exhausted male voice picked up.

“This better be the literal end of the world, James!” Michael panted.

“How did you...?” Kyle asked a bit surprised by the fact that Michael seemed to know who was calling before he picked up the phone, and the way his friend sounded.

“Caller ID, genius... What do you want?” Michael nearly groaned.

Kyle furrowed his brow, “You okay there, Yogi? I get the grump factor, that’s a perpetual state of being with you, but you seem out of breath...and I know you don’t jog...”

Kyle cut his own words off as his eyes widened with realization at what other extra-curricular activity might leave his friend so winded....and with whom. “Oh shit!’ he exclaimed, “Oh man...I am so sorry.... I can call back later....you finish...yeah um...”

“Ahhh...” Michael groaned, “Don’t worry about it Kyle.... Liz....Dammit, it’s Kyle.... ah...stop...Liz....What do you need, Mini Me?”

Kyle stifled his building laughter at the idea of Michael fighting off little Liz’s advances, “Um.... actually I need to talk to Liz.... So...uh... if you could get her to remove whatever part of her body is currently attached to yours...um I’ll make it quick... not that you would...I uh...”

“Ha. Ha.” Michael said dryly, his breath slowing down, Kyle assuming he’d gotten Liz to stop, albeit reluctantly, whatever it was she’d been doing to him. “Here she is. I’m gonna run while I still can, though <i>why</I> I’m running I blame on you.”

Kyle heard the phone shuffled between hands, and even though Liz had her hand over the phone he could hear her words to what had to have been a retreating Michael, “Sure run...wussy! Just remember I know where you live!”

Kyle was wiping away tears of laughter when Liz finally greeted him with an annoyed, “Hey Kyle.”

“Of the ways I imagined you two telling us you’d finally got together, <i>that</I> was not even remotely close...” Kyle said falling into another fit of laughter.

Liz growled comically, “Well, we were going to call you today...<i>After</I>... but your timing always sucked, Kyle.”

“I won’t go with the obvious joke there Ms. Jeffries, given what you were probably doing to General Destruction...”

“Kyle...” Liz warned.

“I know. I know. I’ll stop. But you can hardly blame me. I have this pent up sarcasm to aim at my oversized alien friend. A man can only be so strong.” Kyle explained.

“Believe it or not he misses it.” Liz said honestly.

“Yeah, well, I sorta... miss the ...asshole too.” Kyle said uncomfortable with expressing his emotions for Michael, though it was the truth.

“So, what was so important that you had to ruin my...” Liz was about to say “fun” but Kyle interrupted her.

“...Breakfast?” he teased, bracing himself.

“Kyle Valenti!” Liz nearly screamed into the phone.

Kyle heard Michael chuckling in the background at what he could only imagine was Liz’s red face and wide eyes of indignation.

“Dude, she used your real name.” Michael cackled, “You are so dead!”

“I don’t know who’s worse, you or Michael.” Liz growled, though trying hard to suppress her own laughter.

Kyle quirked an eyebrow, “So, tell me I’m wrong and I’ll apologize to you. If not, its Michael I owe the apology to.” Through the pause on the other end of the line Kyle could hear Michael snickering at what had too be a seething and red-faced Liz, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You are definitely worse than Michael.” Liz grumbled.

“Guess I’m gonna have to try harder.” Kyle heard Michael say and then heard the rustling of sheets. An uncharacteristic whiny groan come from his burly friend, “Aw.... Liz... Come on! I was just kidding! You didn’t have to cover up. Babe...” he called out to Kyle, “ Hey Moron! Quit getting me in trouble.”

Kyle rolled his eyes at the couple on the other end of the line, though he was glad to hear the playfulness instead of the tension that had existed in the weeks prior.

“As much as I’d love to listen to you two play grab ass...” Kyle said dryly, getting Liz’s attention, “I was calling for a reason.”

“You sure?” Liz challenged, “Its cheaper than those 1-900 numbers you used to call that first year on the run.” she blew out an puff of air, “ Entertainment expenses my ass.”

Kyle’s eyes widened immediately, “How did you...? Guerin!”

Liz’s laughter rang out and she looked over at Michael perched in the armchair, “Ooooo he used you’re real name. You are soooo dead!”

“Got to see you naked, Liz. I can go in peace.” Michael mused, earning a tossed pillow to the head.

Kyle cleared his throat and Liz returned her attention to him, “I’m sorry Kyle. What did you need?”

Kyle bit his lip against yet another biting remark, knowing they’d never accomplish anything with the friendly ribbing that was being done, “Isabel’s birthday party...Help.”

“Oh....” Liz said in a sing song voice, ‘You know just for future reference, when you wanna sweet talk a girl into helping you.... its best not to mock her sexual appetites.”

“You have,<I> appetites</I>?” Kyle couldn’t resist.

“You know you can plan this party by yourself, Cowboy.” Liz grumbled, feigning indignance.

“No!” Kyle said desperately, “It’s the one special occasion all year where Isabel doesn’t go all Nazi on me. Please.... it has to be amazing. You know that, Liz! I’m sorry. Kyle was a very bad boy.”

Liz laughed, “I’m not a dominatrix, Kyle.”

“Not this week.” He and Michael both said.

Liz growled loudly in surrender...

~*~

Kyle sat back watching Isabel laughing with some co-workers, enjoying a party that never would have been successful if Liz had decided to hang up on his childish ass that morning.

After the party Isabel, Kyle, Lexi and Max went back to the James household for coffee and family presents. Isabel had gone straight from work to the party that afternoon, so she was more than a little surprised to see two large, flat rectangular packages sitting in her entryway.

“What are these?” She asked, unsure who else she could have received a gift from.

Her parents had sent her a palm pilot so she could organize everything electronically. She’d hoped to get at least a card from Michael and Liz, but understood with Max being ever present that, that was a risky proposition. Still judging by the size and odd shape... they could have been...

“Um...” Kyle scratched his head, unsure of what to say with Max standing right next to them, “They came this morning. Thought you might want to open them, <i>last</I>. He emphasized the, hoping Isabel would get the hint that maybe Max shouldn’t be around when she did unveil the mystery gifts.

Lexi shook her head at her daddy, “ They’re from Auntie Liz.” she said excitedly.

Isabel had a half a second to exchange an apologetic glance with her husband for not catching on sooner, before Max spoke up. Of course they were from Liz...and Michael. Oh this was not the way for him to find about everything. Not today. Not on her birthday.

“From Liz? Really?” Max asked almost out of breath as he ran a hand over the brown paper encasing the presents. His eyes searched wildly around the packages, “Was there a return address?”

“No.” Kyle said quickly, wiggling his fingers at his wife, letting her know he’d gotten rid of the gallery’s name from the packaging. Max’s face sunk, having grasped at hope for a moment that he might discover his wife’s whereabouts.


“Max?” Isabel put on a cheery voice, “Why don’t you help Kyle move these into the living room so I can open them properly.”

Max snapped out of his momentary depression and nodded picking up the larger of the two packages and took it into the living room with an overexcited hopping around him. Isabel hung back with her husband for a moment.

“What about Lexi? All she has to do is mention Michael’s name and Max will know...”

Kyle planted a soft kiss on his wife’s lips, “Don’t worry. I told her it was okay to say it was from Auntie Liz, but that Uncle Grumpy wanted it to be a secret. Told her he was shy. She’ll do okay. She hasn’t spilled the beans yet.”

“But what if he figures it out, Kyle? I can’t keep lying to him. He’s my brother.” Isabel said through teary eyes.

“And so is Michael, Is. And Liz... she’s like your sister... hell she brought our daughter into the world.” Kyle reasoned, “You and I made a promise between us, to let Michael and Liz have some time together before...”

“I know. I know.” Isabel sighed, “They didn’t ask us to hide them anymore, but they need some time before Max finds out. He’ll find out when he’s supposed to.”

Kyle hugged his wife and smiled, “If its any consolation, I don’t think it’ll be that much longer.”

Isabel gave her husband a weak smile, “Yeah, I should be reveling in this time before the shit hits the fan.”

Kyle chuckled, “It ain’t gonna be pretty when it does.” he tugged on her hand as he picked up the other package, “Come on birthday girl.”

Kyle set down Liz, (and Michael’s) gift next to the one Max had brought in and chuckled at his hyper daughter jumping up and down begging her mommy to let her open Auntie Liz’s presents. Isabel shook her head and let her daughter do just that, eliciting an ear piercing squeal from the tot.

Lexi tore into the first package revealing a painting, no doubt by Michael’s hand, and the room was silent for a moment as tears pricked Isabel’s eyes.

“Where is it, Mommy?” Lexi asked.

“New Orleans, honey.” Kyle whispered. Lexi looked up at her father, who gave her a quick wink and she smiled brightly.

Indeed it was one of Michael’s New Orleans paintings, except this one was much more personal. He’d managed to capture one of New Orleans newer children, <i>Ulysses</I> standing proud on Bourbon Street. He was giving Isabel her first glimpse at his home and the life he’d made for himself.

Isabel took in every detail, knowing it was her brother who’d picked out every color, and delivered every brush stroke on the canvas, capturing his new life in all its glory, including, though somewhat hidden, the various players.

There was an older black man standing outside the bar smoking a pipe and chatting with a late forties redhead, whom Isabel guessed to be Sweet and Miriam. The newest members of the Alien club and, as Liz had explained it, Michael’s surrogate parents.

Just inside, hidden by shadows, Isabel could see the back of Liz, dark hair flowing around her as she wiped down tables. And just behind the mirrored bar, watching Liz, was Michael. To the untrained eye not easily recognizable, but to his sister he stood out like a neon sign.

“Its amazing.” she whispered, grasping at Kyle’s hand to stave off tears she didn’t want to shed in front of Max.

“Does this mean Liz is in New Orleans?” Max asked, almost excitedly, interrupting Isabel’s tears.

“I...Uh... don’t think so. She probably just picked it up on her way through there.” Kyle covered.

“Yeah.” Isabel agreed, finding it easier to lie to Max about Liz when she saw the happiness in Michael’s painting, “We always talked about going there someday and she probably saw this and thought if I couldn’t go to New Orleans a piece of it could come to me.”

Max nodded, “That sounds like Liz.” he said wistfully.

“Open other one? Pleeeeeaaaasssse!” Lexi begged.

“Go on munchkin.” Kyle told his daughter.

Lexi tore the next painting open and stood back, with laughter, “It me Mommy!”

Isabel gasped, unable to hide her tears this time. Michael had painted a portrait of her daughter, with all the love and care a photo never did enough justice for. She’d been pleading with Kyle to have something like that done and here her brother had done it for her.

“Beautiful.” She whispered, letting a tear fall on her cheek, burying her face in Kyle’s shoulder.

Max studied each painting a few questions coming to mind. He saw the initials at the bottom of each piece and realized it was the same artist. Not to mention the fact that the portrait was a recent likeness to his niece. Something was going on and some things were coming together.

“It’s the same artist.” he said, through his teeth.

“What?” Isabel asked, wiping her eyes.

“These paintings,” Max said pointing to them “They were done by the same artist....and this one of Lexi...that was recent... How... you’ve been sending Liz photos! You know where she is!”

“Lower your voice.” Isabel hissed, casting a glance down to her Lexi who’d grabbed onto her daddy’s leg when Max raised his voice.

Kyle knelt down to his daughter’s level and asked her to go play in her room. Not needing to be told twice, Lexi shuffled out of the room, leaving the grown-ups to talk.

“Yes, we keep in contact with Liz, Max.” Kyle explained, “She’s Lexi’s aunt...”

“And she’s my damn wife!” Max bellowed.

“Seems to me she doesn’t want to be! Big clue? The divorce papers you’ve yet to sign, Genius” Kyle returned.

“Both of you stop!” Isabel yelled, placing a hand on her husband’s chest, willing him to calm down and turned to Max.

“Liz has asked us not to tell you where she is and we respect that Max.” she explained.

“But....” Max tried to interject but was met with Isabel’s icy stare.

“No buts. You are my brother and I love you, but I’m not going to forsake Liz just for that reason. She moves from place to place and calls us from time to time so we can send her photos of Lexi.” She told him honestly, “She delivered her for God’ sake and she’s still my fried. That’s supposed to mean something.”

“And being your brother doesn’t?” Max balked.

“Don’t play that card, Max. It won’t work. Liz left because she had to, whether you want to believe it or not. Kyle and I have respected her wishes, I think its time you did too.” Isabel softened.

“Is she in New Orleans?” Max asked through his teeth.

Isabel looked back at Kyle and he nodded his head, realizing it was his turn to take over the conversation. It was time to lie and he didn’t want Isabel to have to be the one to do it, “She was. She saw that painting in a gallery and knew it was for Isabel. And since she liked the artist so much she commissioned them to do a portrait of Lexi. I think once that was done she moved on.”

Max shook his head, upset that his sister and brother-in-law would keep the information from him, but satisfied with their answer, “What kind of life is she making for herself running away from me?”

“A life on her own, Max.” Isabel said placing a hand on his shoulder, “But she’ll stop running if you just let her go.”

Max looked up at his sister with tear filled eyes, “I-I can’t, Is. Not when there’s still hope.”

“Is there? Really?” Kyle asked him, knowing full well Max had no chance of ever winning Liz’s love again, not with Michael literally in the picture.

~*~

<i>Halloween Night, New Orleans</I>


Michael walked into the studio, a rare grin etched on his face at the days events. His eyes fell immediately to Liz, standing on the balcony, seemingly the reason for his recent bout with happy expressions. His grin widened to a full fledged smile as he made his way across the room to his dark -haired beauty wondering, with his artist’s eyes, if the moonlight bent, just to touch her.

The sounds of the party goblins, squeezing the last bit of fun out of the nefarious holiday, filled the night air. Various inappropriate proposals were flung at the burgundy evening dress clad young woman on the balcony and she waved them off with a pitying laugh. She returned her eyes to the night sky when she felt a pair of large, but familiar arms wrap around her body and she turned to face her admirer.

“Get any good offers yet?” Michael teased her having heard the cat calls on his way to her.

Liz shook her head and smirked, “Nope. But then again, I haven’t heard yours yet.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and slid his hands, from their place at her bared back, down to the swell of her bottom pressing her closer to him roughly. Liz gasped excitedly and her hands instinctively grasped at his tuxedo shirt collar.

“Gotta warn ya....” Michael said low and dangerous, his lips teasing hers with their closeness, “...I can be just as filthy as they were.”

Liz smiled, pulling away just as Michael attempted to lock his mouth with hers, “Yeah,” she teased curling a lock of his hair around her finger, “Well, I don’t love them.”

“Advantage me.” he grinned, finally capturing her lips, with one more rough tug of her body to his.

They were broken from their passionate exchange by the drunken calls of a group of dragged out frat boys. Liz buried her head in Michael’s chest and he shrugged his shoulders at the group.

“Sorry guys, she can’t perform in front of a crowd!” he called out, “Stage fright!”

Liz smacked his chest indignantly, but Michael held her close anyway, until her laughter mixed with his own. When the laughter died into the night air, Liz let out a contented sigh across Michael’s collar bone.

“It really was a beautiful wedding tonight.” she said wistfully.

Michael nodded against her hair, “Yeah, definitely better than the last one you were in.” He chuckled as Liz growled low in her throat, “Never thought I’d have a wedding in the bar, let alone on Halloween.

Liz pulled her face out of Michael’s chest to look up at him, A lot of traditions were forsaken tonight, Dear. The bar. The night. The music. The lack of a white dress... on anyone. But it was perfect. Unconventional, but perfect.

“Well I don’t exactly think the bride or groom in this case have ever been really stuck on conventions.” Michael added.

Liz nodded, “Well put.” And then scrunched up her face, “But Halloween?”

Michael tipped his head back in laughter, “<i>That</I> is one tradition Sweet would never forsake. All of his marriages took place on a holiday of some sort. Why should his wedding to Miriam have been any different?”

Liz raised an eyebrow at her beau, “Well, given Sweet’s track record with wives.... You’d think he woulda mixed it up a little bit. But I guess that’s your old man, huh?” When Michael nodded, Liz giggled, “Halloween? Was Thanksgiving taken?”

“Yep. Wife Number Four, Roxy.” Michael answered, “Three, Amanda, was on New Years Eve. Two, Linsey was on Valentines Day. And Number One, Doris, was on Christmas. Now there’s Number Five, Miriam, on Halloween.

Liz shook her head, “Well, I hope Miriam is the last Mrs. Johnston. Sweet’s gonna run out of holidays if she isn’t.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Michael disagreed, “He still has Easter, St. Patrick’s Day, and Fourth of July.” he snapped his fingers, “Oh and we can’t forget Flag Day. Not an often remembered holi...”

“Michael...” Liz warned, tickling his stomach with her fingers.

“Kidding.” Michael said, jumping away from Liz’s light assault on his sensitive stomach.

“They have to make it.” Liz said with a grin, “If they split up, who’d get custody of you? I mean would it be every other weekend at Sweet’s with a month in the summer and alternating holidays, assuming Sweet isn’t marrying wife Number Six at that time...”

Michael placed his index finger over Liz’s lips, “As hilarious as you are, Liz... I really think Mir, is it for Sweet.” His face sobered, “I asked him the same thing tonight. I mean as much as I love the old guy, I’d have to maul him a bit if he hurt Miriam.”

“And here I thought you were a Daddy’s boy.” Liz teased.

Michael shook his head, “Its all about the ladies with me.” he said arrogantly.

“Ugh!” Liz groaned, “If I didn’t know you were the reincarnated clone of a long dead general from another galaxy...I’d swear you were Sweet’s biological child.”

“Little too pale for that don’t you think?” Michael joked, “But he did call me his ‘soul child’.”

Liz smiled, “Born of different means, but always meant to be his?”

“Something like that.” Michael blushed, at so much parental love being aimed at him after so many years without it, “I really do think that this is Sweet’s last marriage. Something he told me tonight after the ceremony. He told me that when he thought he was dying, he thought about the heartache he’d been through and caused with all his marriages. He loved too much and spread it too thin, He said with Mir, he’s gonna be selfish and keep all his love with her.”

Liz’s eyes teared up at Michael’s relaying of Sweet’s words about his new wife, “That man just earns his nickname on a daily basis, doesn’t he?”

Michael wiped away a stray tear that had fallen on Liz’s cheek and furrowed his brow at a question that had been running through his own mind since he and Liz has finally admitted their feelings for each other. With her own marriage failing and the heartache it had caused bother her and Max, would Liz be jaded towards the idea of marrying again. Marrying him.

“H-How do you feel about it?” he finally asked, summing up the courage.

“About marriage? Or getting married again?” she sniffed, somehow knowing this conversation was coming and yet not knowing until Michael asked, what her answer might be.


“I guess... both.” Michael answered.

Liz stood back for him for a moment, still holding his hand, and studying his face. He was nervous and avoided her eyes, looking anywhere but at her. He as afraid at what her answer might be.

“Are you proposing, Michael?” she asked bringing her hand up to grip his chin, force him to answer her with his eyes locked on her own.

Was he? The words, <i>“Will you marry me?”</I>, hadn’t exactly escaped his lips but was the implication there? Why else would such a thought be running so rampant through his mind and heart in the past months?

Sure he’d entertained the idea of marriage with Maria years ago, but something inside both of them knew it would never come to fruition. Almost a premonition, that while they loved each other, their time wasn’t forever. But with Liz, nothing felt more tangible and real to him. Forever, lay comfortably in her eyes without question. Hell yes. He’d marry her tomorrow if Max would only sign those damn divorce papers.

Michael scratched his eyebrow, barely able to hold Liz’s intense gaze, sure in his heart what he felt, but so scared of what verbalizing it could bring.

“No...” he said knowing it was a lie, “I mean... uh...I don’t know....” Pony up big man, take the risk, “Maybe....” He met her eyes and found his confidence. He tugged her into his arms, matching the intensity she’d just displayed in her eyes, “Would it be so terrible? Marrying me?”

Liz’s eyes widened. He was serious and she was frightened, “Its only been a couple months, Mich...”

“Its been a lifetime, Liz.” Michael countered, reminding her of the very words she’d spoken to him about their time apart when she’d first arrived at <i>Ulysses</I>. She couldn’t use time as an excuse.

“Michael... I can’t.” Liz said weakly, immediately feeling Michael’s disappointment in the loosening hold he had around her and the utter rejection that overtook his face. Oh, she’d handled this all wrong.

“I-I... see...” Michael whispered, dropping his arms from her body but his legs unable to walk away from her, trying to run away from rejection, like he had so many times before. All he could do was turn away, not wanting Liz to see how much he’d wanted her to say, “Yes”.

“Hey...” Liz said insistently, grabbing Michael’s arm, “You don’t ‘<i>see</I>’ anything. Look at me, Michael.”

He sighed heavily and reluctantly turned back around to face her, ashamed of the tears that wet his cheeks.

“Just because I <i>can’t</I> marry you, doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Michael.” Liz explained, feeling a bit indignant at Michael not knowing that fact alone. “You know that’s true. Or have we been wasting our time these past two months?”

“Of course not!” Michael growled, angry that Liz would even imply what had been the happiest time in his life was a waste.

“Then please...” Liz softened, “... hear me out.”

With Michael’s nod, Liz began pacing, taxing her mind for words to feelings she wasn’t sure she knew how to properly express. How could she help Michael understand that she knew what his proposal meant, the courage it had taken him to admit he felt that much for her and that her refusal to accept, wasn’t a rejection of him, but the institution.
“I can’t deny that my failure with Max has a lot to do with it, but I also know <i>you</I> aren’t Max...” She watched Michael roll his eyes, and knew she wasn’t getting through, “For the longest time I’ve been going along with what people told me was right, because I was too scared to question if it was right for me. That this secure little bubble that had been created for me, that I helped grow, would protect me forever.

“Even when that bubble burst, the day Max healed me, a new one was created. So much was unknown and scary to me, so I fell back on what I knew, which more often than not was do what I was told was right. I believed that so much I let myself believe that what people were telling me was what my heart really desired. I did it with everyone... my parents, my teachers, Max, Maria.... even you Michael.”

“What?” Michael asked stunned that he’d been included in that list.

“Please. Just let me finish.” Liz pleaded, “I accepted a lot of what I was told was right, even though my heart tended to argue. The only time I think I truly made a free choice, where my heart and mind agreed without question... was loving you, Michael. <i>You</I> taught me how to live caring about people, but not letting what they think rule my world.

“So, yeah if Max signs those papers I could marry you. But I happen to think we’re beyond needing labels if we know what’s true in our hearts.”

“And that’s, what, to you, Liz?” Michael asked needing to hear the words to fully understand what she was trying to say, although his sense of rejection was already fading fast.

Liz closed the distance between them, taking Michael’s hands in her own, grateful he hadn’t flinched away. “What’s true, to me, is that I don’t need a minister, priest, rabbi, judge... whatever, to bless us. To tell us we love each other or for that to even be recognized by anyone other than us. And I damn sure don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that <i>you</I> are my family, Michael.”

Michael let Liz’s words sink in and found their pure truth in them. She was right, he hated labels and he didn’t like having people tell him what to do or how to feel. He’d taken enough orders in two lifetimes. What was it about this woman that made him temporarily forget that fact?

“You know,” he said with a smile, brining his arms around her once again, “it really annoying when you remind me that while I have philosophy in my life, I don’t always live by it... But thanks.”

“Anytime.” Liz grinned leaning up on her toes to peck Michael’s lips.

“So Little Liz Parker is up for living in sin with me... I think I can handle that.” Michael mused.

“Sin keeps things more interesting anyway. Don’t you think? And I told you, it’s <i>Jeffries</I>.”
Michael nodded, “<i>Definitely</I> more interesting. And I told you, you’ll always be <i>Parker</I> to me.”

Before Liz could protest Michael kissed her hard and insistently, knowing full well the drugging effect his kisses had on her. When he was met with her dopey gaze after parting he knew he’d accomplished his goal.

“I hate that you know how good you are at that.” Liz laughed.

“Its best to know what skills you have in your arsenal and use them for all their worth. Something I learned in my days on the Antarian battlefields.” Michael said with pomposity.

“But I’m guessing the ability to bullshit endlessly was skill that came naturally.” Liz countered.

“Of course.” he answered to which Liz rolled her eyes at his feigned arrogance.

Michael hadn’t forgotten his original plan for seduction when he’d come out onto the balcony and eyed Liz with a newfound hunger, “Since you turned down my first proposal, maybe you’ll feel inclined accept my second one.”

“Perhaps.” Liz played along, “Depends on <i>how</I> indecent it is.”

Michael smirked and whispered his highly potent suggestion in her ear, causing Liz to blush furiously in girlish embarrassment and womanly intrigue.

“Is that even legal?’ she asked, near breathless by his suggestion.

Michael shook his head, “I’m sure its not, but you love to live dangerously. And if we’re going to keep up this living in sin thing, I want it to be heavy on the sin.”

“Amen.” Liz breath before Michael claimed her mouth again.

~*~

TBC...

[dreaming of the incrowd]

Holy crap, this is fantastic...I am totally caught up in the Michael/Liz world you have created. Please update this again soon

[Peachykin]

Chapter 12


<i>Late November: New Orleans</I>

Michael and Sweet had been on the road for hours. Making their way from Memphis back home to the haven their Lady provided and the precious hearts she kept watch over in their absence. They had just spent the better part of five days helping a friend and former patron open a bar of his own, one similar to Ulysses, leaving their respective mates to mind each other and the bar.

Now Michael sped down the highway at NASCAR speeds, despite his fatigue. Sweet sat next to him gripping the door handle beside him.

“Son, being a newlywed, I understand you haven’t seen your lady in five days, but I’d like to see my bride in one piece. And seeing as I’ve filled my near death experience quota for the year, could ya slow down a bit?”

Michael looked down at the speedometer, a little surprised himself at the speeds at which he’d been traveling and eased his foot off the gas as Sweet had requested.

“Sorry Pop... just uh... anxious is all.” Michael said sheepishly. Sweet chuckled at the boy’s choice of words and patted his shoulder.

Michael had been reluctant to go on the trip at all, not because he didn’t want to help Mr. Traynor, but because he’d be leaving Liz to fend for herself at the bar, while she was taking her classes at the university. Once classes had started in early September, Liz had taken to finishing up her studies when she returned home from the university, with the bar just opening and headed upstairs an hour before it closed to finish up any last minute studying. Even though she knew the material backwards and forwards, Michael would shoo her up the stairs, her education taking much higher priority than balancing the bars books, a task he could easily do on his own.

But even with the Thanksgiving holiday approaching, finals were just around the corner and Michael wanted to make sure she had every available minute to study. Leaving her to run Ulysses for five days was hardly conducive to good study habits.

Liz had convinced him to go help Mr. Traynor, a man who’d been one of his first and more loyal customers in the early days of Ulysses, when she promised she’d close the bar early every night, so she could study, even though they’d lose some prime time business. But Michael had underestimated the team that Sweet and Miriam had become, and that Sweet had been privy to a majority of Michael’s arguments with Liz about his leaving.

Not wanting her son to lose any important holiday business, and knowing he was much too prideful to ask for help, Miriam confronted Michael one morning over coffee and rolls waiting for Liz to get out of class.

“Sug, you <i>know</I> I can help Liz with the bar for a few days. How do you think I earned the money to buy my gallery? Pumping beers, pouring shots and kickin’ out the rowdies. All ya have to do is ask.”
Michael shook his head, “I would, Mir, but I don’t want to take you away from the gallery. Christmas is coming up and...”

“And my gallery doesn’t keep bar hours, young man. I close up shop at eight, sometimes earlier. I can close up the bar and do the books.” she argued, quirking an eyebrow at the reluctant young man, “Besides, you aren’t foolin’ anyone with your macho act. You just don’t want to be away from Liz.”

Michael opened his mouth to protest but Mir gave him a warning glance not to interrupt her, “Now I know you two were apart for a long spell and ya’ll are in the honeymoon phase... I know a thing or two about that, if you recall it’ll be my husband joining you on this little trip. But trust me, the way you two go at it...” she rolled her eyes comically, “Liz might just need the break. Don’t get me wrong I’ll be mighty anxious myself with Sweet bein’ away...”

“Miriam!” Michael whined, “If I ask you to do this, will you stop talking about my sex life and yours? There’s a major ick factor in play.” he mock shuddered.

Miriam chuckled, “You know, Baby, old people do it too.”

Michael groaned, his face red, “Yeah but I have an active imagination and that’s one place it doesn’t need to go.”

Michael should have known the Fates had it in for him, when a few days before his trip Liz, “went in for repairs”, as Michael affectionately liked to call her period. Michael cursed her monthly cycle for being so damn punctual.

“Sorry Michael, but it’s not like my body takes requests to stop work when you’re in the mood.” Liz teased.

“Yeah” Michael grumbled, “Well, when you become a big fancy molecular biologist, that’s the first project I want you to work on.”

“I knew there was a reason you were so gung ho about my education.” she giggled.

“What can I say?” Michael sighed in mock arrogance, “I am a selfish bastard.”

The Fates still seemed to be holding a grudge against Michael, when after the long road trip to Memphis, he and Sweet arrived at their hotel to find that their reservations had been lost and they wound up having to share a room, thankfully, with two beds, but any kind of long distance phone seduction he had planned with Liz was then null and void with his father in the room.

Now Sweet and Michael had always been frank with each other, sharing many a conversation that would have made Hugh Hefner blush. But somehow Michael felt it a little too weird asking his dad to leave the room for an hour so he could have phone sex with Liz. Sin, had just found its limit.
Michael’s involuntary brush with celibacy, had one positive effect that showed in his work ethic. Michael had by no means been a slacker when it came to business, but he seemed more focused and driven to help Mr. Traynor, taking on tasks usually left to the laborers, but found the physical work more satisfying and kept his mind off of Liz stretched out on the living room couch in her hockey jersey, pen dangling from her mouth deeply involved in yet another article on gene splicing. Sexy came in so may forms with her.

To say Michael felt edgy by the time he and Sweet left Memphis, would have been an understatement. He’d never worked so hard in his life as he had in the past days and every muscle in his body ached with the punishment such rigorous efforts afforded. But he couldn’t bring himself to care as every mile brought him closer to home.

Sweet chuckled as they parked they car behind Ulysses and Michael, though thoroughly weary, shot out of the car retrieving their bags before Sweet had even managed to step one foot out of the vehicle. It was late, and the bar had closed just twenty minutes before they’d arrived, so Michael, feeling more comfortable about using his otherworldly gifts in front of Sweet, unlocked the front door with his powers.

Miriam looked up from her place behind the bar, tallying up the nights receipts, exchanging an amused chuckle with her husband at Michael obviously fatigued, but in a wild-eyed state of anticipation of seeing his girlfriend.

“Glad you made it back in one piece.” she mused coming from behind the bar to greet her two favorite men.

“Just barely.” Sweet shook his head, winking at Michael.

Michael’s eyes kept darting to the door and the apartment stairs, but he knew he should stay and finish the books, letting Miriam and Sweet get home. With one unconsciously heavy sigh and longing glance upstairs Michael set his and Sweet’s bags down, and made his way behind the bar to take over the books.

Miriam exchanged a look with Sweet, and the old man shrugged his shoulders casting a sympathetic glance towards his son. Miriam shook her head and held her hand up to Michael pushing him from out behind the bar.

“I don’t think so, Sug.” she told him sternly. At Michael confused face she snickered, “Good Lord boy, I believe if you don’t get upstairs and see Liz in another minute, you’ll positively burst all over the bar. And quite frankly, the only turkey I want to be cleaning up tomorrow, is the one going in my oven. Now scoot.”

Michael didn’t need to be told twice and with a great smile grabbed Miriam’s face, giving her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, making his way with lightening speed toward the apartment stairs.

“Don’t forget you’re coming to our house early to help with Thanksgiving dinner!” Sweet called out to the blurring figure of his son.

“We’ll be late!” Michael threw back, entirely serious.

“You always are, Sug!” Miriam returned, laughing her way into Sweet’s embrace.

Michael took the apartment stairs three at a time, peeking in the window before entering. He saw Liz’s dark hair peeking out from the end of the couch and the tips of her knees hanging over the edge of the cushion. She was asleep.

Michael had only recently noticed that while when she slept beside him, Liz would stretch her whole body out against his, molding herself to his every curve. But when he happened to get out of bed before her to make the morning coffee, he’d always come back to the bedroom and find her curled up in a ball with the sheet wrapped tightly around her body, a pale substitute for his body heat.

Foregoing a dramatic entrance, Michael simply crept inside the apartment, mindful not to make any noise. Her kicked off his shoes, wincing at the thud they made against the hardwood floor, and with as much stealth as he could muster made his way into the living room.

Indeed Liz was fast asleep on the couch, her little body balled up, wearing not her hockey jersey, but one of his black Motorhead t-shirts, and her textbook lay open on the floor. Michael shook his head at the simple beauty before him and knew this scene would definitely end up in his next show.

A surge of lust began curling through his stomach at the sight, sexier than anything he’d conjured up in his mind those lonely nights in his hotel room. As serene a picture as Liz made, and as nice as it would have been for Michael to simply pick her up and take her to bed, saving the ravaging until morning, he reminded himself that he was, on occasion, a very selfish bastard. He had a rep to uphold.

Tossing aside his own t-shirt Michael knelt next to his sleeping temptress, grimacing at the strain he was already feeling of his arousal, confined in once baggy jeans. Starting at Liz’s ankle, he began dropping light kisses up her leg, stopping at her knee when she shifted slightly to stretch out, his name escaping her lips in a sleepy mumble.

Michael grinned wickedly and ran his hands up her thighs pushing the shirt up her body. He was met with slight disappointment when he saw a pair of black panties covering her.

“Sure, you pick <i>now</I> to wear underwear.” he grumbled.

Liz shifted again moaning slightly and Michael bit his lip, willing himself to keep his inner monologue, inner. He was about to attempt to remove the offending garment without waking her when one of her hands moved up to her shirt, caressing her own breast through the material, freezing Michael’s movements, his attention raptly focused on her.
He felt his mouth grow dry with his increasingly labored breathing as he watched, Liz, seemingly still deep in slumber, pinch at her own nipple, making it strain against the fabric of the cotton encasing her body. The mere action seemed to have the same effect on it’s twin. Michael licked his lips deciding to help her along, eventually she’d wake up and either way, he was sure she’d have a smile on her face. He drew his hand up her thigh delicately stroking his fingers over her clothed heat, feeling the rush of moisture his touch brought her.

The breathy moan that escaped her lips caused Michael to shut his eyes as it hardened him impossibly more. Taking his hand away from Liz for a moment, and seeking to relieve the unbearable strain against his jeans, he unfastened them, releasing his erection. Now the only pain came from wanting to be inside her, but with the show she was putting on, it was a pain he could definitely endure for a little while longer.

With highly restrained ease Michael shed his jeans and climbed onto the couch delicately lifting Liz’s now splayed legs to rest in his lap, careful that she not come in contact with his erection. She was still massaging her breasts and her hips and begun to rotate, seemingly waiting for his fingers to return to her lower region, quelling the ache he’d stirred inside her. Obligingly, Michael traced his finger back up the inside of her thigh and stroked her lightly over her panties.

Liz arched off the couch a bit when he touched her again and let a soft whimper escape her lips, Michael watching with utter fascination. Deciding the effort to actually remove the panties, might wake her, he moved them aside to touch unencumbered skin. He was more than a little taken aback when Liz’s other hand moved down to join his, batting it away as her brow furrowed.

“What the hell?” Michael muttered, but quickly became enlightened when Liz’s hand inched beneath her own panties. Michael’s eyes widened. She wasn’t really going to...? They weren’t strangers to sexual adventure, but... And it was one thing to imagine her on the phone...

“Mmmm...” Liz whispered, as her finger brushed over her clit and down to her moist folds. Michael couldn’t help but groan, wishing he could tear away that damn black cloth.

Liz arched her hips as she dipped a finger into her wetness, once again, merely brushing her clit with her thumb and letting out a shaky gasp. Her smooth leg accidently brushed Michael’s erection, causing him to moan again tipping his head back against the wall, his hair touching the edge of the <i>Dangerous</I> painting. God, she was asleep and she was killing him. The talents of Liz were growing daily.

Michael might have been content to mimic Liz’s actions on himself but the motion of her leg against his arousal was providing enough friction to keep him on the edge. He gripped her leg gently to encourage her motions while his eyes remained on her, unable to tear himself away from Liz pleasuring herself in front of him.

As her pace began to increase, both their breathing picked up, Liz’s pants and moans occasionally taking on words resembling English, calling out God’s name, eyes still tightly shut. They were so very close when...

“Oh David....!” Liz rasped, “David... we can’t...Michael will be home soon...”

Michael’s jaw dropped and any pleasure he’d been receiving prior to her utterances were quickly forgotten.

“David?” He said with still labored gasps, his brow beyond furrowed in would be anger, “Who the <i>fuck</I> is David?!”

Liz opened her eyes and a wicked grin crept over her face. She removed her hand from herself and brought her leg up to Michael’s face tipping it towards her, “Hey, you kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?”

Michael was too frustrated, and approaching anger, to really notice the devilish glint in Liz’s eyes. He pushed her leg away and scowled at her, crossing his arms over his chest, “I sure as hell don’t when she’s calling out another man’s name in her sleep.”

Instead of the protestations Michael was expecting from her, Liz fell into a fit of giggles at the state he had brought himself too. Michael eyed her suspiciously tipping his head back against the wall in embarrassment. It had been too good to be true.

“So at what point did you wake up?” he asked, trying not to laugh at his own arrogance.

Liz let out another giggle, wiping her eyes, “I’d say about the second set of stairs your feet hit on the way up. I know you love Doc Martens, Michael, but they are not exactly quiet shoes.”

Michael shook his head, doing his best to keep his scowl in full effect, “So here I was thinking I was getting the show of a lifetime and your were just toying with me?”

Liz taxed her brain for a moment and nodded, “Yup.”

“I am such a chump.” Michael grumbled.

Liz sat up kneeling next to him, “Ego a little bruised, Babe?” she asked, with feigned pity.

Michael wouldn’t look her in the eye, doing his best to try and maintain some of his pride, “I think it was the ‘David’ thing that put it over the top, Dear.” He finally turned his head, staring at her, “You never answered my question. Who the fuck is David?”

Liz rolled her eyes, “David Duchovny. There was an <i>X-Files</I> marathon on F/X this afternoon....and you do kinda look like him...” she tried to be serious, but the constant giggles were causing her to fail miserably.

“I do not.” Michael growled in protest.
“Sure you do.” Liz teased, “You have the same...regal... nose.”


Michael glared over at her, “Great. While I’m gone, my girlfriend fantasizes about a guy who played an FBI alien hunter...You have a very sick sense of irony Liz.”

Michael may have been trying to play the wounded soldier, but Liz knew better if only by his still hard erection, giving him away. She crawled over his body, straddling him. Making sure her heat brushed against his, hearing his breath catch in his throat.

“Aw. You aren’t really angry are you Michael? I mean... you were prepared to let me go all the way in my sleep...”

“I...I was not.” Michael argued as she attached her mouth to his neck nibbling harshly at the flesh. He clenched his fists in an effort not to touch her, still mildly annoyed, not that she’d managed to get the better of him, but that he’d been so consumed by his desire for her, he’d let her. “I would’ve woken you up...but..th-then you had to go and say t-that h-hack’s name.”

Liz pulled back still grinning wickedly at him and pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her only in the skimpy pair of underwear that had taunted Michael earlier. She watched with amusement as Michael turned his head away from the temptation of her chest in an effort to punish her for her earlier joke.

“You’re telling me you’re really going to deny yourself another day of this...” Liz asked him caressing her breast with one hand and his erection with the other, “...because you got played by your girlfriend?”

Michael took a shaky breath at the feel of her hand on his sensitive skin, but held his ground, “Gotta hold a principle sometime.” he said weakly.

Liz abruptly took her hand away from him and shrugged her shoulders removing herself from his lap. She hooked her fingers on the sides of her panties and drug them down her legs, kicking them aside.

“I guess I’ll just have to go finish this myself in the bedroom.” she sighed and turned away from him, “Enjoy your principle, Michael.”

Liz didn’t get more than two steps before she felt Michael’s hand reach out and grip her wrist tugging her swiftly back onto the couch, shrieking slightly. She often took for granted how quickly Michael could move and found herself pinned beneath his body, staring up to blazing amber, his muscles hardened under his restraint.

“I hate that you know how good you are at that?” he told her in a low voice, dropping a kiss on her neck then letting his mouth hover above her pulse point.

“Good at what?” Liz whispered, genuinely curious and utterly weakened by his dangerous tone.

“Reading me.” Michael answered, taking the fingers Liz had been using on herself in his mouth and moaning at the taste he’d been craving for days..

Liz smiled weakly up at him, “Its best to know what skills one has in their arsenal.” she said threading her fingers through his long hair, “Learned that from sleeping with a former Antarian general.”

Michael couldn’t help but grin down at her, “But the ability to bullshit just came naturally, huh?”

“Why, I have no idea what you mean.” Liz feigned innocence.

“I mean...” Michael elaborated, shifting his hips to brush his hard length up against her wetness in a slow teasing rhythm, “You have gone without just as long as I have.” He dipped his head down to her breast teasing a nipple with his tongue in slow circles, “You had no intention of doing this by yourself, Liz. How far would you have really gotten to the bedroom?”

“A-About a h-half step.” she answered him honestly, her breathing coming in ragged breaths, his simple movements and dangerous voice already bringing her to the edge, “I missed you.”

“Next time you’re coming with me.” Michael chuckled, brushing his lips against hers, darting his tongue out to play with hers. “I missed you too.”

Without preamble or another word between them, Michael stopped teasing Liz and slid into her body, letting out a strangle puff of air at the feeling of her surrounding him. He watched her eyes widen and then hood as he filled her body and groaned as she arched her hips sending him deeper still.

Michael didn’t pause, pulling back immediately to thrust into her body once more, the feeling to great to ignore. Liz raised her head to meet his lips, trapping her gasps and his moans in their mouths. They’d done their playful teasing, prolonging this moment and now they couldn’t remember why.

Keep it simple. Isn’t that what he’d told her the night they’d admitted their feelings? Simple was there in that moment, their bodies joined in tandem with their pounding hearts. Games were fun, even amusing, but only as long as it doesn’t keep them from moments like these. When they realized they had taken the mere presence of the other person for granted, until they were taken away temporarily.

“All I could... think ... about.... was getting back to.... you.” Michael breathed against Liz’s neck, his thrusts increasing with every word.

Sure he’d told her he’d missed her but that didn’t seem like enough. He knew how glib he could be and he wanted her to be sure that he truly had missed <i>her</I>. Not just her body or the things she did to him, but her. The way just being around her made him stronger and made him see the world in a different light. Hers.

Words caught in Liz’s throat at Michael’s declaration. She knew he loved her and missed her while he’d been away, but to know she was the reason for his happiness made her heart soar and sent her spiraling into pleasure. All she could do was let out strangled cries, her tears too consumptive to allow her anything other utterances.

She wanted to tell him that despite the heat New Orleans gave off, she’d been so cold without him in their bed. A chill wind seemed to sweep through the city at the knowledge that two of her children were apart. Liz never needed Michael, but she’d never felt a want so great as when he’d left her to go to Memphis. It was only a few days, but they’d felt like those five years apart.

Michael watched all of Liz’s feelings play out on her face and the tears steak down her cheek. The tears sent him into his own release, knowing they weren’t caused by any pain he might be causing her with his ardent thrusts. No, she was so happy, she couldn’t hold them in and he was the one who brought her that happiness.

His release had been explosive and almost overwhelming, all he could manage through his own raspy cries was Liz’s name, something that had come to mean so many things to him. He sagged his weight on top of her knowing she could take it, and they way she clung to him, wanted it. She’d missed the power she felt beneath his muscles, the tremors his body always took on with his release and the complete vulnerability he exhibited in not holding back in those moments. No one, but Liz, ever got this Michael and no one ever would.

“I don’t want to move.” Michael breathed anchoring his weight on his elbows, dropping light caressing kisses on Liz’s wet cheeks, he still feel her pulsing around him and he felt he might fall apart in her arms if her removed himself.

Liz smiled up at him and with what strength remained in her leg squeezed his hips, keeping him inside her, “Like I’d let you go.” When Michael chuckled, she brushed an errant curl off his face, “You told Sweet we’d be late tomorrow, right?”

“We’re always late.” Michael smirked down at her.

~*~

<i>Thanksgiving, Colorado.</I>

Lexi sat in her booster chair, making mountains with her mashed potatoes and getting an elbow from her dad, “Lexi you’re supposed to eat the potatoes, not play god.”

Lexi rolled her eyes at her father, “They lumpy, Daddy. Make good mountains.”

Kyle stifled his snicker at his daughter’s observation. Motherhood had changed Isabel quite a bit, however her ability to cook had not been affected and her larger meals were usually followed with a large bottle of antacid.

Kyle had managed to convince Isabel that he should cook the turkey, claiming it a male duty to char the meat without literally putting a “char” on the meat. In reality he reasoned that if a bird gave up its life to sit on his table, it should at least be cooked properly. The veggies and other side dishes would be sacrificed in Isabel’s hands.

“You okay?” Isabel asked Max, forcing down another bite of her own green bean surprise. He’d been pushing around his food since they’d sat down and seemed preoccupied.

The truth was his preoccupation had begun long before that Thanksgiving. It had begun on Isabel’s birthday and those paintings Liz had sent. That little hint of a clue as too her whereabouts had sent Max back into his fury to find her. He’d spent the last weeks searching the internet and calling around various places in New Orleans trying to catch, at the very least, Liz’s scent, if she’d moved on, but had been coming up, mostly, with dead ends.

He’d been noticeably distant from the James clan, once he’d found out that they’d been in contact with Liz since she left and had refused to tell him where she was. He begged Isabel to just let him talk to her next time she called or at least give the number she was at, but Isabel held fast in her promise to Liz, frustrating Max all the more. He knew he was close he could feel it by the way Kyle and Isabel would tense up and exchange glances at the mention of Liz.

He tried various aliases he thought Liz might use, but no one had heard of an Elizabeth Alexander, Gomez, or Atherton and she certainly wasn’t using her married name. So he started looking for the artist who’d painted the pictures. Whomever they were had at least spent a little time with his wife while the portrait of Alexis was being worked on. Maybe they could tell him the name she was using or just how she was. He was living on crumbs of information, and even smaller pieces of hope.

He’d done an internet search of the various galleries in New Orleans and none of them with the letters “MJ”. He knew it’d be too easy to simply hope that the mysterious artist would actually own their own gallery and when he pressed Isabel or Kyle for the artists identity or even their gender they clammed up.

Thanksgiving morning he’d been running a random search of galleries again when her came across one called <i>Reflections</I>. It had only recently put up a website, so Max had missed it on his initial sweep. The painting it used as a background looked familiar, much like the piece Liz had sent. His eyes scanned down to the owner’s name and the black and white photo of the mid to late forties woman. Miriam Johnston. MJ.

Max wasn’t sure if he should breathe a sigh of relief that MJ was a middle-aged woman and not some young handsome man, or cheer that he’d actually, possibly found someone who might be able to help him find his wife. He quickly wrote down the galleries number and grabbed the phone dialing the numbers as quickly as possible.

“Hello. You’ve reached <i>Reflections</I>, we’re all enjoying Thanksgiving with our families but we’ll be in bright and early tomorrow morning to open your eyes and take your money. Have a wonderful day.”

Max slammed the phone down. He’d forgotten it was a holiday. He clenched his fists in frustration and ran a hand through his messy hair. Taking a deep breath he willed himself to remain calm. It was only one day. He could call this, Miriam Johnston, the next day. See what, if any information she could give him about Liz. How long she’d been in New Orleans, if she was alone, when she’d left, or if she’d said where she was headed next. Tomorrow. It was too long.

“Max!” Isabel nearly yelled, startling her brother from his self induced trance. “Where are you?” she asked him with concern.

Max looked over at his sister and then to Kyle. Lexi, who was fully aware of the tension in the room, but too young to understand it, used the adults distraction to pile more lumpy potatoes onto her plate, deciding her mountain was lonely and thus needed a range.

Max sighed heavily letting his fork drop on the plate, “I’m sure as hell not doing any good here.” he muttered and pushed away from the table, standing.

Isabel, looked to Kyle not needing to ask him to stay and keep and eye on their daughter while she tried to figure out what was wrong with Max. Rising from the table she followed him into the entryway and found him putting on his parka.

“Where are you going? Mom and Dad haven’t called yet and they’ll want to talk to you.” Isabel nearly scolded.

“I can’t stay here, Isabel.” Max said coldly. “I’ve been sitting on my ass this whole time, looking for Liz, when I should be out there searching. I got a lead this morning. The artist. I’m going to New Orleans.”

Isabel put a hand to her mouth, “You found Mi...”

“Miriam Johnston?” Max interrupted and edge in his voice, “Yeah. I found her. She owns a gallery in New Orleans. I know its her because the painting she uses on her website looks like the one you got from Liz. Maybe I can find Liz’s trail through her...”

“Look Max, I know it’s the holidays and the divorce is really hard on you, but right now you need to be with your family. Me, Kyle, Lexi...”

“Liz is my family too Isabel.” Max argued, “And as far as I can tell no one in my family wants to help me get her back. So you’ll excuse me if I’m not feeling in the holiday spirit!”

Isabel jumped at his sharp tone and Max softened a bit at the hurt in his sisters eyes, “Isabel, if you haven’t noticed, our <i>family</I> has dwindled over the past few years. First it was Jesse, then Maria... I know losing Michael killed you most of all...and now Liz... I’m just trying to salvage what’s left.”

“So you’re leaving? Then it’ll just be the three of us. Lexi is already out one uncle and her aunt. Please Max, just stay here. Who’s gonna play Santa this year, you Kyle’s too short for the costume...”

Max smiled at his sister, “If all goes well I’ll be back here by Christmas, Is. And I’ll have Mrs. Claus with me.”

Max kissed his sister on the cheek and headed for the door. Isabel reached out grabbing her brother’s arm, “Max even if you do find Liz, and you come barging in on any kind of life she’s made, you’ll only make things worse. Think about it. You do this and all you’ll come home with, is a broken heart.”

“Already got that, Isabel. It can’t get more broken than it is now.” Max shrugged and felt Isabel release his arm.

“Yes it can, little brother.” she whispered as she watched him disappear into his car.

Isabel watched his tail lights disappear from view and felt Kyle’s arms wrap around her from behind, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder, “I take it we need to call Michael and Liz.”

Isabel nodded, “If Max, finds them... I at least want someone to have a warning.”

~*~

<I> One Week Later</I>

Max drove down the interstate feeling all the miles he’d already driven. He’d only been on the road for two days, but when you’re alone with your thoughts for long periods of time it tends to weare on you. Max was no exception. He’d need the extra time to take a leave from his job and make that phone call to Miriam Johnston, who’d proven to be of no help at all. She’d said that she’d wished she could help him, but she hadn’t done a portrait in years and that she hadn’t met anyone named Elizabeth, that she could remember.


Max had been undeterred. He was going to there anyways. He figured he could show Miriam Liz’s pictures maybe jog her memory. Maybe Liz had merely contacted the artist through Miriam’s gallery and the woman had forgotten. He heard recognition in the woman’s voice. Or at least that’s what he’d told himself.

When Max had first taken off on his quest to find Liz, first stop New Orleans, he was excited at the possibilities that awaited him. Just getting out of Denver was exciting in itself. He put Isabel’s final words to him in the back of his mind, but they kept creeping forward and the more the miles stretched the louder her voice got. The radio couldn’t drown it out and the silence made it deafening. It was the sound of reason and he didn’t like that it made sense.

He told himself he wouldn’t let anything stop him from finding Liz. If Isabel wasn’t willing to help than she’d just have to live with his actions. But now her words were haunting him.

<i>Max even if you do find Liz, and you come barging in on any kind of life she’s made, you’ll only make things worse. Think about it....”</i>

“Any kind of life, she’s made?” he wondered aloud, “What could that mean?”

Max’s eyes widened at a possibility he’d never thought of. Liz moving on. Was that why Isabel had been so reluctant to tell him anything about Liz. Had Liz found someone else?

“No.” he argued, “There hasn’t been enough time.” he reasoned.

But hadn’t there been? Liz had been gone for a year and half. He’d fallen for her in one glance back in the third grade. That took what, maybe half a second? Isabel had said that Liz was moving from place to place. She wouldn’t have had any time to form any real bonds, or ties to anyone, let alone romantic ones with another man. Could she?

<i>“You do this and all you’ll come home with, is a broken heart.”</I>

Who was he kidding? This was Liz he was talking about. Everyone who’d ever met her, touched her, couldn’t help but fall in love with her. How could they not? He smile, her laugh, her compassion. Was Isabel really trying to tell him that Liz was with someone else? Maybe the artist?

Max found himself breathing hard, his heart threatening to burst at the very possibility. He pulled over and tried to regain his composure.

“The divorce.” he breathed, “Why else would she wait a whole year to ask for a divorce.”

He hadn’t heard word one from her until those papers had arrived. Initially Max had figured that Liz was taking her time, trying to decide if she wanted a life without him in it. He never stopped to ponder that she’d found someone to build a new life with. That she wanted to cut him out because he stood in the way of whatever and whomever she wanted to be with.


<i>...you’ll only make things worse...</I>

God, if he did find Liz and she had moved on, she’d hate him for disrupting her new life. She wouldn’t even give him a chance to try and work things out. Maybe Isabel was right. His heart was already breaking even more at the theory that Liz could be in the arms of another man. If he saw it with his own eyes... he was sure it would kill him.

Max knew he needed to see Liz. Had to, if there was any hope of mending their broken relationship, but now he knew he needed to be prepared for what could be waiting for him when he saw her. And since Isabel and Kyle were guarding Liz’s new life, he had to go to someone who would be honest with him. Who loved Liz as much as he did, but wouldn’t hold back, no matter what the price to his heart.

Gaining his breath back Max started up the car and turned in the opposite direction he’d been heading. Trading the bayou, for a place much more familiar.

~*~

<i>Early December: Roswell, New Mexico</I>

Max shifted his feet nervously at the front door of the Parkers apartment. He’d timed his arrival for Sunday night, knowing they always closed early that day. Even six and a half years away couldn’t change that routine.

Summing up what courage remained inside him, Max knocked on the door, bracing himself for whatever Jeff and Nancy had to say to him. He knew that he was not on their list of favorite people. He’d taken their only child away for a life on the run and even though he’d saved her life all those years ago, its difficult for a parent to lose their child and still know she’s alive out there and you can’t see her. But they would be honest with him, and Max was counting on that honesty to lead him to Liz and whatever new life she’d built for herself.

Max was a bit relieved when he saw Nancy’s kind face opening the door, watching her eyes widen in shock at the sight of her son-in-law on her front door. Her hand flew to her mouth, her breath taken away and Max smiled weakly.

“Hi...Nancy...um..” Max started, but was so busy trying to find the right words he missed Nancy’s hand flying from her mouth to slap him harshly across the cheek.

Max’s eyes widened in shock and he brought his hand up to his reddening cheek, trying to rub out the sting.

“Nanc...who as the doo... Oh.” Jeff said as he came into view. He’d heard his wife gasp and some muttered words. When he saw who was behind the door, the reason for his normally pacifist wife’s sudden bout with violence. “What the hell do you want Max?” he growled.

“Answers.” Max said, quietly, but firmly holding his ground.

“Now why in the hell would we go and do a thing like that Max?” Jeff asked harshly, “You took our daughter away to live a life in danger. You dragged her all over the country and didn’t let us see her once. You didn’t keep your promise of letting her live her dreams...”

“I didn’t force Liz to do anything, Jeff.” Max argued. “I didn’t force her to come with me. I didn’t force her to marry me...”

“And you didn’t force her to leave you either.” Nancy finally said, recovering from her initial shock.

Max nodded reluctantly, “Isabel and Kyle won’t tell me where she is or how she’s doing. I want to fix things between us...” Max looked around the street, “Please, can I at least come in. I don’t want a lot if people knowing I’m in town. I’m taking a huge risk coming back here. I didn’t know where else to go. Please.”

Jeff and Nancy shared a glance and nodded, stepping aside for Max to come inside. If voices were to be raised, there was no reason for all of Roswell to hear it. Max was at least right about that.

“Like I said,” Max continued once inside, “I just want to fix things with Liz. I know I haven’t kept a lot of my promises to her and I want to rectify that, but I can’t if she won’t give me a chance.”

“She gave you plenty of chances Max.” Nancy argued, “You ignored her every time.”

“I know. I do realize that now, but I want to try again... get it right.” Max reasoned.

“By doing what? Having a baby?” Jeff asked incredulously, “Liz’s dreams are larger than just that, Max. If you truly knew her like you say you do, you’d know that much.”

Max nodded, “I was wrong to think that a baby would make things right between us, and I’m prepared to do whatever it take to make her happy. I just need to know where she is so I can tell her. At least try...”

“Max,” Nancy said in a more soothing voice, hearing his desperation, “There is nothing left to save, please trust us on this.”

Max’s shoulders sunk and he moved from the entryway into the living room. Nancy looked nervously to her husband, knowing what Max was about to stumble on. Jeff grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Max’s frustration was visible, in his stance and the tiredness in his eyes. It was one thing to hear, albeit cryptically, from your sister that you should give up on the love of your life, but it was another to hear it from her parents. He ran a hand over his face, taxing his mind for anything that might get the Parkers to tell him where Liz was, if she was happy, or at the very least prepare him for what he might be waiting when he did find her. And then he did.
Max took his hands away from his face, opening his eyes, and was met with Liz’s. Or at least a reasonable facsimile. Hanging above the Parker’s mantle was a painting of Liz. She was standing in front of what appeared to be a college board dressed in denim shorts and a tank top, but her reflection had her in hospital scrubs. She was still so beautiful and the painting looked as though it were alive.

Jeff and Nancy stood back letting Max take in the painting watching him slowly walk toward it, as though the Liz on the canvas might step out to embrace him. Max’s eyes settled on the corner where the artists signature was held in small red letters. M.J.

Whomever painted this had spent a fair amount of time with Liz. Enough so that they knew what dreams she still held. It was possible that this, Miriam Johnston, could have had a kind ear to listen to Liz’s troubles as she painted her, but Max suspected not. No, whomever painted this knew Liz intimately. Enough to catch the longing in her eyes and the slight smile that came from even just dreaming about the things she could accomplish. This person knew her heart, almost better than he did.

Max’s gaze fell to the small gold plaque embedded in the wood frame housing the painting, <i>Little Miss Scientist</I> by Michael Joyce.

“Michael Joyce?” Max whispered in confusion.

He’d been certain that M.J. had been Miriam Johnston not this Michael Joyce. And why did everything about this feel so familiar? Even the title of the painting had struck a familiar chord. But why?

Max turned around and looked back at Jeff and Nancy, scratching his head, a nervous smile came over his face, “I...uh... don’t know who this artist is... but I remember where she got that nickname...After I healed Liz that day...she wouldn’t stop investigating for us and God, she annoyed the hell out of Isabel and Michael...” Max’s eyes widened in realization... “Michael... Uh... used ...to call her... Little Miss...Oh God...”

“Max...” Nancy said softly, seeing that he was putting the pieces together. Jeff whispered something to her and she ran into the kitchen picking up the phone, dialing hastily.

Max swiftly turned back to the painting his mind running wild. Michael Joyce. M.J. An artist... in New Orleans...Little Miss Scientist... the portrait of Lexi...Isabel’s emotions over the paintings she’d received on her birthday...yet another reason Isabel would keep Liz’s location from him. She wasn’t just hiding Liz , but Michael as well.

Max’s eye caught something else on the mantle that had escaped his notice upon his initial draw to the painting of his wife. In a small silver frame was a black and white photo of Liz standing next to Michael, in front of the bar from Isabel’s New Orleans painting, both of them smiling... at each other.

“Liz found Michael.” was all he could whisper.

But why hadn’t Michael called him to let him know where Liz was. He knew how much she meant to him. Michael hadn’t given his reason for leaving, never called nor wrote, but Max always believed he’d have his back when the chips were down. Now it appeared he didn’t, because there was Liz, in the painting, done by Michael’s hand, and in the photo, smiling at her.

Max couldn’t, wouldn’t let the next notion of anything other than a friendship enter his mind. He felt his knees would buckle if it held any sort of truth. Michael and Liz didn’t make any sense together. They were complete opposites. They hated each other. But how could ignore the intimacy of the painting or the genuine smile on Michael’s face on the photo.

“She’s in New Orleans with Michael...” Max breathed.

“Has been since the end of July.” Jeff provided placing a firm hand on Max’s shoulder, seeing the young man’s unsteady stance.

“But why Michael? I mean....” Max faltered.

“She wasn’t looking for him, Max.” Jeff explained, “ She just stumbled on him... He’s good for her...to her... He’s helping her realize the dreams you forgot she had.”

“I don’t understand...” Max rasped, his tears welling up in his eyes.

“The money he’s making from his paintings... He’s helping me put her through college.” Jeff told him.

Max’s anger began to surface, “Since when did Michael Guerin ever give a damn about Liz? Or even bother to care about what her dreams were? Michael only ever cared about himself... its why he left. Maria was gone so he...”

Nancy came in the living room sensing Max’s burgeoning rage and handed him the phone. Max gave her a bewildered look and accepted it bringing it to his ear, “Who is this?”

“Isabel.” His sister answered, “Jesus Max, why would you go to Roswell?”

“Fuck you, Isabel. You know why I came here! You knew where and who Liz has been with the last few months and never told me!” he bellowed, causing Nancy and Jeff to stand back nervously.

“Yeah I did and I wouldn’t take it back. Michael didn’t want to see you either Max. I respected that! You aren’t my only brother!” Isabel countered.

“Yeah well I’m about to pay a visit to <i>our</I> brother and there’s nothing you can say to stop me!” Max yelled.
“Don’t you think I wanted to tell you that Liz had found Michael. I was so damn happy when he called after she got there... And I wanted to tell you... but they needed time...Please don’t do this! What I told you at Thanksgiving is still true. You go barging in on Liz’s life now and she’ll only hate you for it and so will Michael! Then you’ll lose them both!”

Max growled in frustration, “Look I get it! Michael was trying to be a good friend to Liz, but letting her just keep running away isn’t going to solve anything. He should know that better than anyone!” He paced the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Isabel... How could you not tell me Liz was with Michael?”

There was a pause on the other end and all he could hear was Isabel’s temper labored breathing. “You really don’t get it do you Max? I love you little brother, but there’s a fucking neon sign flashing in front of your eyes and you refuse to see it!”

“Then enlighten me, Isabel!” Max countered, “For once since Liz has left... Enlighten me!”

Isabel sighed heavily, “Max all the pieces are before you. Put them together. The paintings? The secrecy? The divorce papers? You really think Michael is just hiding her because they’re friends?”

“Why else would Liz be with him?” Max asked, a sinking feeling centering in his stomach.

“That’s it Max. Liz isn’t just with Michael. She’s <i>with</I> him.”

Max felt his heart drop to the floor and his knees buckled as he slumped onto the Parkers couch. He looked up at the painting, the photo, the worried looks on the Parker’s faces and the words Jeff had said about Michael. How he was “helping Liz realize her dreams”.

“No...” Max shook his head, “You’re wrong Isabel. Michael wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Michael isn’t the same man he was five years ago Max. None of us are. Didn’t you notice how close he and Liz were before he left? And even after... since when did Liz listen to Metallica? Or watch hockey? Or even attempt to read anything by James Joyce?”

“You’re saying they were...all that time...?”

“No.” Isabel said quickly, “Nothing happened then, but now... they found each other, Max. Michael isn’t <i>doing</I> anything to you. He loves Liz, really loves her. And she...”

“Don’t say it.” Max gritted his teeth, “Don’t you dare say it, Isabel.”

“You can’t bury what you don’t want to hear, Max.” Isabel insisted. He needed to hear it, “Liz loves Michael, Max. <i>They</i> are happy. And I’m sorry it hurts you so much, but she’s happy without you.”

There was another long pause on the phone and Isabel knew Max’s mind was trying to catch up, digest what she’d told him. Michael and Liz in love. Not five words he would have ever strung together in his life. It was too odd. Too irrational. To painful.

It was one thing if Liz had fallen for a complete stranger. A human. Someone normal. But Michael? His own brother? What if it was another lie?

“I need to see it for myself. Now.” he finally told Isabel, “You can warn them if you want, but I’m going.”

“Max...” Isabel pleaded, “Please, not like this. I mean it. You will lose both of them forever if you try to bully your way in.”

Max laughed nervously, so many emotions running through him, he wasn’t sure which one to nail down, “And what do you suggest I do, Isabel? Since all of a sudden you are an expert on Michael and Liz.”

“If you can’t let Liz go, now. Then wait to see her...them. Kyle, Lexi and I are going to New Orleans for Christmas to see them. Come with us. Not that I think it’ll do any good, but at least then you three can talk about this. Calmly. Once <i>you’ve</I> had time to let it soak in.”

Max hated to admit it, but once again Isabel was right. They were all adults. And while his heart and mind were reeling with the new information and every instinct in his body told him to run to New Orleans and not care about the consequences, if there was even the remotest hope of winning Liz back, he’d have to show her that he’d changed as well.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” he sighed, “I don’t know what good it will do. I mean... Michael?

Isabel let out a deep breath, “I’m not saying you have to understand why Max, just that he makes her happy. And that its time for you to let go.”

“Hell hasn’t frozen over yet, Is.”Max replied dryly.

~*~

<i>Later That Night...New Orleans</I>

Michael came upstairs after closing the bar with Sweet and Miriam, hoping to find Liz either asleep, she’d been studying so hard with her finals only a week away. But instead found her sitting in the dining room, with her head in her hands and the phone resting on the table.

He could see her whole body was tense and felt it when he placed his hands on her shoulders. He bent down placing a kiss on the back of her neck, “What’s wrong?”

Liz looked up at Michael with worry in her eyes, and a pale to her normally tan skin “We’re going to have to set one more plate for Christmas dinner.”

Michael own shoulders sunk, but it had hardly been unexpected, “Max.” he said, seeing Liz nod.

Ever since Isabel had called them the day after Thanksgiving, warning them about Max possibly showing up in their neck of the woods, they’d been bracing themselves for his arrival. Even more so when Miriam got Max’s phone call a few days later looking for a woman named, “Elizabeth”.

Neither Michael or Liz had asked Miriam to lie, and technically she didn’t. She didn’t know a woman that went by any of the names Max had spouted off. Nor had she been the one to paint that portrait of Lexi. If Max had asked her about the artists she showcased, he might have found out about Michael, but then again, Max really wasn’t looking for Michael.

But now, it seemed, seeing Max again was inevitable. Michael and Liz had enjoyed their time without having to worry about him, but they knew well enough that it was a bubble that would burst soon. The honeymoon was over.

“Are we ready for this?” Liz asked Michael as he knelt beside her.

“We kinda have to be, don’t we?” Michael replied, “We knew we’d have to face him sooner or later. It’ll be tense, but I’m not worried. You can do that enough for the both of us.”

“I know, but Isabel said...”

“That Max is angry? Pissed off? Hurt? In denial? Wants to see it with his own eyes?” Michael provided.

“All of the above. Michael, he went to Roswell. To see my parents.” Liz said a hint of anger in her voice.

“Can’t imagine your dad was too happy to see him.” Michael mused, trying to get Liz to smile, but it wasn’t working. “Look I’m not half as grouchy as I used to be. Sex on a regular basis tends to tame the wild beast.”

“Hardly.” Liz joked rolling her eyes, but a meaningful glare from Michael, kept her from teasing any further and she waved her hand for him to continue.

“All I’m saying is I’m not going to get into a pissing match with Max, over you. You love me, right?”

Liz’s eye widened, “You know I do.”

Michael shrugged his shoulders, “Then I’m not worried about us. Nothing Max says or does is going to change that. It’d be nice if he’d sign those divorce papers, but like you said, we don’t need a piece of paper to tell us who our family is.” Michael accepted a kiss on the forehead from Liz before continuing. “Truth is I’m more worried about what coming here is going to do to <i>him</I>. I mean you’ve moved on. You’re happy. And at the very least sexually satisfied.”

“Michael...” Liz warned, but couldn’t hide her smile.

“This is gonna break him Liz, and we have to be able to live with that. Can you?” He asked her seriously.

“I don’t want to break him, Michael, but I spent too much time being broken myself, to ever go back.” Liz said with sorrow in her voice. She really didn’t want to hurt Max. He was her first love. Her husband, the man she’d given up so many things for to be with.

“Sometimes you have to hit bottom before you can climb back up, Liz. Max has to find that out for himself.” Michael explained.

Liz nodded, “I know but do we have to be his tour guides.”

Michael chuckled, “Who better? We both know a little bit about hitting bottom.”

“Yeah, but we had each other. I’m the reason he’s going to fall, Michael.”Liz said softly.

“No you aren’t Liz.” Michael argued, “We all are our own worst enemy. I think I’ve proven that a few thousand times. Max not letting you go is what’s sending him down. And until he does that he’ll never start moving on. You have to stop letting yourself be the center of Max’s world, or he’ll never stop seeing you as just that.”

Liz brushed her lips over Michael in a kiss of gratitude and smiled, “You’re right.”

“About what? I was kinda in a Kyle-like Zen mode. Kinda creepy really.” Michael joked.

“About regular sex making you less grouchy.” Liz laughed. “There was a time when the prospect of Max coming around made you quite a bear.”

“Still does.” Michael told her honestly and stood up, pulling her out of the chair, and pulling her towards their bedroom with a smirk, “But then again, the beast hasn’t been tamed since this morning, so...”

Liz batted her eyes, “And me without my whip, what will we do?”

“Improvise.” Michael said waggling his eyebrows.

~*~

TBC... Next: Christmas: New Orleans style.

[dreaming of the incrowd]

Thank GOD the holidays are over. I printed it this out and read it over the holidays, but I haven't had ANY chance to leave you any feedback.

This story ROCKS so much. I can't believe Max is acting that way. Grrrrr

And Michael is so good to Liz *sniff*

[Peachykin]

<i>December 23, New Orleans</I>

Michael watched Liz from his place behind the bar as he fill little cups full of fruit punch and cider. It was Christmastime at Ulysses which meant Sweet dressing up as the jolly old fat man and the kids from various shelters around town were treated to juice, cookies and a toy generously donated by the bar’s owner. The mothers of the children were treated to an hour’s peace, some cider and the knowledge that someone cared that they had a merry Christmas. Hopefully the start of new better life for them and their children.

So while Sweet listened to the various wishes of each little child that sat on his lap, Liz played Santa’s helper, complete with a little red dress, trimmed with white faux fur on the hem, collar and sleeves, and of course the requisite little red hat.

Miriam nudged Michael as he overfilled another cup, making a mess, his attention firmly focused on the little elf placing a screaming toddler on Sweet’s lap, helping him to calm her down. Michael grunted grabbing a towel and cleaning up the mess.

“I know what’s gotten into you, Sug.” Miriam teased him, “Bet you’d like to spend some time with Santa’s helper up there on your lap.” Michael smirked, but didn’t deny her assessment, “But what I can’t figure out is, what’s with Liz?”

Michael took another look at his girlfriend. Yes, there as a genuine smile on her face for each child who tugged on her skirt in anticipation, but she was worrying her bottom lip an awful lot and her brow furrowed from time to time. It was no mystery to Michael. She’d been buzzing around the apartment for the past week cleaning and re-cleaning, fluffing pillows, stocking the fridge, organizing their cd collection... and then re-doing it all the next day.

“She nervous about everyone coming for Christmas. She wants it to be as perfect as possible.” He told Miriam, “I think all that time spent with my sister during the holidays might have made her a member of Isabel’s Christmas Reich.”

Mir nodded, “But for who’s benefit? Max’s?”

Michael shook his head, “No. Actually its more for Lexi. She knows things are going to be tense with Max tagging along. So she’s trying to make sure that Lexi doesn’t pick up on that and has a good Christmas, despite the tension us adults will be under.”

“She does know that kids pick up on everything right?” Miriam chuckled, “I mean you ask any one of these little sprites runnin’ around the bar.... well... they just know.”

Michael nodded, “Liz knows that, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Its in her nature to make sure everyone is happy. But she tends to forget about herself.”

“What time do they get here?” Mir asked, detecting the sadness in Michael voice at Liz’s perpetual personality flaw. Something that had hurt her so much over time, sacrificing too much of herself.


Michael looked up at the clock, “Bout a half hour, maybe less, depends on traffic. They’re taking a cab in. I offered to pick them up but when Liz told Is about this little party we have every year... Well after Liz got my sister to stop crying, she insisted that they not interrupt it and now they’re taking a cab.”

“You nervous?” Mir asked.

“Let see. Meeting my niece for the first time and seeing my sister and best friend, not to mention my brother, who, by the way, is still married to my girlfriend... after five years....” he held up a slightly shaking hand and gave Miriam a crooked smile, “I’m a rock.”

Miriam patted her son’s shoulder and they watched Liz come down from her post as one of the waitresses took over. She wrung her hands and bit her lip as she approached the bar. “Did you call the airport?” she asked Michael anxiously.

He nodded, “Yeah. They landed about twenty minutes ago. It’ll take some time to get their luggage and then get the cab, with the holiday rush.”

“Oh.” Liz said unsure of whether to feel more excited or nervous. She smiled graciously when Michael handed her a bottle of water, “I think I need something stronger.”

Michael arched an eyebrow at her, “You don’t drink, Liz.”

“Can’t think of a better time to start?” she joked, with a weary sigh. She did a quick scan of the bar and saw everything was in order, nothing to distract her. “I um... I think I’m gonna go up to the apartment and make sure there are enough towels in the bathroom... People always run out of towels... and...”

Michael exchanged a look with Miriam and she nodded her head with a chuckle. Michael tossed her the bar towel and hopped over the bar.

“...And soap...Oh... I hope we have enough soap...Its usually just the two of us... but with Kyle, Isabel and...” Liz rambled, and then abruptly stopped when Michael took her hand dragging her over to the supply closet. They stood in the doorway underneath the mistletoe and Michael leaned down, fusing his mouth over hers.

Liz didn’t protest, wrapping her arms around Michael’s neck to return the kiss. Only when they heard the giggling of a couple small children did they break apart. Michael growled comically at the kids and gave them a wink as they scampered off.

“That, was to calm you down.” he told Liz, seeing the natural effect his kisses had on his girlfriend, her eyes hooded slightly accompanied by the dizziness.
Liz smirked up at him, “Thanks, but I hope you don’t use that tactic on every hysterical woman you encounter.”

Michael shook his head, “Nope. Only seems to work on human chicks from Roswell.”

“Who said it worked?” Liz challenged him her eyes darting suggestively to the convenience the supply closet provided.

“You have always been exhausting.” Michael returned, shifting them inside the closet and shutting the door behind him so as not to give any of their guests a lesson in alien mating rituals.

Michael had barely gotten the door shut when he felt Liz spin him around swiftly and her lips were upon his. Wasting no time he lifted Liz off the ground pressing her against the door.

“Looks like I got the naughty elf.” Michael mused between hungry kisses, “Dragging the boss man in to the supply closet for a quickie.”

Liz giggled, her nerves of minutes earlier quickly fading with Michael’s attentions, “I always knew you had a thing for us elves. First it was Snowflake...”

“Correction, Cinnamon,” Michael interrupted, recalling the elven name she’d taken on in the year she’d been referring to her, “<i>Santa</I> had a thing for Snowflake. I, however, have a major jones for hyper brunettes in short skirts.”

Michael leaned in teasing the corners of Liz’s mouth with his tongue while his hand snuck its way underneath the skirt of her dress. He growled in frustration and pulled away from her mouth.

“You know, this whole underwear thing is really getting annoying.” he teased.

Liz grinned, “Well I know what I’m <i>not</I> getting for Christmas.”

“Nope.” Michael breathed wetting her lips with his tongue, “That would be encouraging you to wear them.”

“I figured... “Liz returned, panting as he continued his task, touching her over the bothersome silk, “With the young impressionables out there... “

“Damn kids. Always ruining my fun.” Michael grumbled comically, hissing as Liz reached between them to stroke him through his jeans, “Ah, I take it you’re calmer now?”

Liz nodded with a wicked grin, “Yeah, but its been replaced by...” she was interrupted by a gentle knocking on the closet door.

“Michael? Liz? Hon, you two decent?” they heard Miriam ask from the other side, her voice tingled with withheld snickering.

“Wasn’t planning on it, Mir.” Michael replied sardonically, as Liz dropped her forehead to his neck and her shoulders shook with her own laughter.

“Well, I hate to do this to ya, but your guests have arrived.” she said seriously.

Liz’s head shot off Michael’s neck and she looked into his eyes with a mild panic. Michael let out a nervous laugh, tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling before returning back to Miriam on the other side of the door.

“So what you’re telling me Mir, is that there is no way Liz and I can come out of this closet and <i>not</I> look completely guilty?”

They both heard the older woman chuckle, “That’s about the size of it, Sug.”

Michael tipped his head downward resting his forehead against Liz’s chest, “Thanks Mir.” He called out, “Just give us a sec.”

“Sure thing, Baby.” Mir replied and they heard her footsteps walk away.

“Take them a while, huh?” Liz teased, bringing Michael’s head up to meet hers.

“I’m sorry.” he chuckled setting down so they could repair any damage that they’d done in the heat of the moment.

Liz shook her head as she smoothed her dress and hair, “Don’t worry about it, Michael. You got me to calm down and I’m not ashamed of being with you.” she turned around for him, “Now, how do I look?”

Michael smiled. She could have been covered from head to toe in swamp sludge and she would have been beautiful to him with her easy declaration. But he gave her the obligatory once over, finding her even more lovely than when she’d drug them into the closet, her lips slightly swollen with his kisses and her cheeks taking on that distinctive flush that only came from being intimate with him.

“Beautiful.” he finally told her, then looked at down at himself, “Passable?”

Liz looked him over then giggled furiously as her eyes reached his slightly tented jeans, “Um, might want to tame the wild man there before hugging Isabel.”

Michael growled at her, “For the record this is the <i>only</I> time I’m cursing my makers for blessing me.” he stared down at his inconvenient arousal, “Down boy.”

When it became apparent the stubborn was a full body emotion for Michael, Liz shook her head, “Maybe I should just stay in front of you when we come out.”

Michael nodded, “Good idea...Just don’t bend over.” he teased.

They exchanged one last, attempted chaste kiss, and Liz turned around opening the door, making sure Michael, or least his lower region was shielded by her body. She unconsciously reached back for his hand, some of her nerves returning as she saw her family again for the first time in over a year.

Michael took one last look at the back of Liz’s head as they walked out of the closet, decidedly impish grins on both their faces, and looked upon faces he hadn’t seen in five years and an entirely new one only ever seen in photos. A silence hung in the air for a moment, as though no one knew what to do or say in the moment. They all briefly registered the background notice of the children laughing , Sweet “Ho-ho-ho-ing” and the New Orleans jazz take on <i>O Holy Night</I> serenading them on the jukebox.

Michael looked up at Kyle and Isabel who held giant smiles on their faces, Isabel’s more innocent than that of her husband’s, but Michael had learned a long time ago that Kyle couldn’t physically not smirk, his brain was stuck in perpetual pervert. One of the many reason they got along.

His eyes briefly passed over Max, not surprised to see red in his brother’s cheeks, he knew from barely restrained rage at seeing his own brother coming out of a closet with his wife. But the fidgeting little sprite clasping Kyle’s hand was what held his attention. There she was in the flesh. His niece. The newest and, decidedly most adorable, member of the family, Lexi, not understanding why no one was moving, or hugging, or even speaking.

Michael watched her survey each adults face and shrug her shoulders, her excitement over seeing her auntie and meeting her uncle too strong to be contained and she released herself from Kyle’s grip, running full speed at Liz.

Liz quickly forgot her promise to not bend over in front of Michael as she knelt down and scooped her niece up into her arms. The tears that had well in her eyes spilling down her cheeks as the little girl clung to her neck.

Kyle nudged his wife, who’d seemed immobilized for a moment and Isabel snapped out of her trance. There was Michael, after five years. He looked the same as he did...no, he looked happier than he did five years ago. And Liz... gone were the dark circles, hollow cheeks and nearly dead eyes. She was full of life and God, she was smiling and damn near glowing.

Isabel followed her daughter’s lead dropping her purse to the floor and walked swiftly into Michael’s arms, her tears soaking the fabric of his white shirt. “I missed you, Jerk.” she said with a weepy laugh.

Michael couldn’t speak he just nodded his head squeezing Isabel against him feeling his sister’s love radiate off her in waves. His eyes fell to Kyle who’d dropped the luggage and was embracing Liz, Lexi still wrapped tightly in her arms.

Isabel pulled back following Michael’s gaze to Liz and remembered where they’d just seen them emerge from, a giggle escaping her lips. She smacked his chest to get his attention, “I can’t leave you alone with any of Santa’s’s elves can I?”

Michael laughed, “Nope. I think it’s the tights.”

Isabel looked back at Liz again, furrowing her brow, “Liz isn’t wearing any tights.”

“Yeah. Not now.” Michael joked waggling his eyebrows.

Isabel rolled her eyes, “You are still a pig. You and Kyle won’t skip a beat.”

“Not Kyle I’m worried about.” Michael added, his eyes passing over to Max, who’d been content to stay back, unsure of his feelings or how to greet his wife and brother.

Isabel nodded kissing Michael’s cheek before turning to Liz and enveloping the tiny woman in a huge hug, nearly crushing poor Lexi in between them. Kyle backed away quickly and turned his attention to long lost alien friend, first shaking his hand before drawing Michael into a hug.

Kyle jumped back instantly, shaking his head at Michael and chuckling, “Gee Goliath, I mean I know I’m ten kinds of pretty, but...dude, I’m <i>married</I>.”

Michael rolled his eyes at Kyle, knowing the joke about his still dwindling arousal from he and Liz’s near closet copulation, would be coming and while throughly embarrassed, he reveled in Kyle’s ribbing having gone so many years without it.

“So is Liz.” Michael and Kyle heard Max mumble, after having made his way towards the reunion.

Michael bit back any comment he might have in return when his eyes fell to the smiling angel in Liz’s arms. For her sake, and for his own, he had to be the grown up about this. Be the bigger man and while not excusing Max’s behavior, he found himself understanding it. How hurt would he be if Liz walked away from him for Max?

From the moment they’d stepped into the bar, Max had been eagerly searching for Liz, disappointed when she was nowhere to be found. An older redhead approached them and he remembered her from the photo on the website. Miriam Johnston.

She greeted Kyle, Isabel and Lexi with hugs, all having heard so much about the other and brought together by Michael and Liz. She’d shaken Max’s hand, giving him a gracious smile, which he returned, but immediately began searching for his wife again. He looked up at what normally was the stage, finding a mini North Pole, complete with a laughing Santa, a nervous tyke on his knee. Max had to admit, Michael always made a pretty decent Santa.

“Michael and Liz are a bit...um...indisposed at the moment.” Miriam said, a blush appearing on her pale cheeks, “I’ll just, uh..let them know you’re here.”

Indisposed? Max had wondered. He looked back over at the Santa in the overstuffed armchair and upon closer inspection realized that this Santa was far darker than his brother. It then became all too clear when he watched Miriam walk quickly over to what had to be a closet of some kind and knock on the door gently. He couldn’t hear the voices, but it was clear that she was talking to someone in that closet an impish smile consuming her face. Indisposed. Just fucking great.

About a minute later the door opened and Max felt his breath catch, gazing upon his wife after a year and half apart. Jesus she was beautiful, and that smile... His heart sank as Michael followed closely behind her, their hands laced together in unity. The smile had been for Michael.

A rush of red flew to Max’s own cheeks when his saw the distinct blush on Liz’s, that came only when she’d been...aroused. It had been a long time since he’d seen it, but he never forgot what it looked like and it tore him apart that he couldn’t deny Michael had been the one to put that particular rouge there. There was very little doubt as to what his and the James arrival had interrupted.

Max was grateful for the break in pain when he saw Lexi rush towards Liz. God, she looked so right holding a child in her arms and he knew that it had to have been difficult for Liz to have been away from Lexi all that time...

“Maxwell....” he heard, Michael say a little loudly, suggesting it hadn’t been the first time he’d called his name. He looked to Michael, really seeing his brother for the first time, and saw his large hand extended in invitation for a handshake.

Max narrowed his eyes at Michael, part of him wanting to embrace his brother after so many years apart and the other part wanting to lay him out where he stood for taking away what Michael must have known meant so much to his brother. Liz. He was caught in indecision and anger and he remained frozen, staring at Michael.

Michael’s shoulders sagged a bit, knowing this moment would be awkward and seeing the pure venom Max was aiming in his direction. He knew Max would heap the blame on him for the loss of Liz and his subsequent relationship with her. It was a burden he found easy to bear, if not a little painful one. He took a small step forward keeping his hand out for Max to take and muttered low so only he and his brother could hear.

“Shake now. Deal with the rest later.” his eyes flicking over to Liz and Lexi.

Max flinched at Michael’s words, finding them holding a little too much truth, but his gaze had followed Michael’s to Liz nervously chewing her lip in worry looking over at them and Lexi, who studied the men with a smile absently twirling a lock of her aunt’s dark hair around her finger. He brought his hand out of his pocket and gripped Michael’s firmly, watching Liz let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

Kyle patted Max’s back, “No royal tantrums Maxieboy. ‘Tis the season for forgiveness.”

Max looked back at Kyle with a glare and Michael narrowed his eyes at his wisecracking friend, “I’m not asking for that either.”

Kyle’s eyes widened at the tension he’d unwittingly added too and his eyes fell to the doorway Michael and Liz had exited from, “It’s..uh...also the season for ...Mistletoe! Yeah mistletoe..Isabel my dear sweet wife...I see mistletoe...”

Before Isabel could object her husband grabbed her hand and dragged her under the mistletoe, worried that leaving Lexi with Liz, Max and Michael was tant amount to dropping her toddler in a minefield. But Liz gave her a weak smile and her resistence faded as Kyle kissed her fiercely.

Lexi rolled her eyes, “Dey always do dat.” she scrunched up her nose, “Gross.”

Max turned toward Liz and began lifting his arms to embrace her. Lexi, felt Liz grip her tighter, watching her aunt’s eyes look nervously over at her Uncle Grumpy’s. Lexi felt uneasiness coming off her aunt in waves at the prospect of Uncle Max hugging her. She vaguely remembered feeling that from Liz before she’d left. Thinking quickly she hugged Liz possessively with her little body.

“No Unca Max. Dis my Auntie. Mine. Mine. Mine.” she chanted smiling sweetly at her uncle.

Max was more than disappointed, not only at Lexi’s sudden possessiveness over her long lost aunt, but at the tentativeness he saw in Liz’s stance and eyes. Had things gone so wrong that she couldn’t even stand a hug from her husband? Or at the very least, her friend?

“Can we talk later?” Max asked Liz quietly, a pleading in his eyes, “Alone?”

Liz nodded without hesitation. She wasn’t scared of Max, only scared of giving him any kind of hope. Michael was right, she could see from the hope that danced in Max’s eyes, this, she and Michael, was going to break the man she used to believe so much in.

“Yeah...Later Max. Maybe in our apartment.” Liz answered her eyes dancing over to Michael’s.

Lexi watched her Uncle Max’s shoulders sag in defeat and tears well up in his eyes he blinked away hoping no one could see. This wasn’t the reaction Uncle Max had been hoping for with Auntie Liz. The obvious distance she was trying to put between them. The way she would look at Uncle Grumpy.

Lexi felt her aunt relax even more when Uncle Grumpy placed a hand on the small of her back. Lexi had only been a short time on this Earth, but she was already gaining a strange sense of people’s emotions, seeing the lights that surrounded them when they were happy, sad or angry.

Even with her young age, or perhaps because of it, things seemed very simple, very clear to her. She loved her Uncle Max, but something about him made Auntie Liz sad. Uncle Grumpy made her happy. Simple. So why was everyone still so tense? And why did they think they could hide it from her? Silly grown-ups.

Liz sensed a need to break the tension and she glanced up at Michael who’d been studying Lexi for a while and it occurred to her, “Hey...” she said shifting Lexi up a bit in her arms, “You and Uncle Grumpy here have never been properly introduced.”

Lexi giggled, “Yeah. And we never met before.”

Liz smiled and cleared her throat, “Alexis Michaela James, meet Uncle Michael...Uncle Grumpy.”

Lexi sat back in her aunt’s arms. She’d been dying for this moment since her mommy had told her they were going to New Orleans for Christmas. She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow at the large man, imitating her favorite photo of him, the one she kept on the cork board in her room. It was of Michael sitting on a couch arms folded and brow furrowed, but a slight smirk teased the corner of his mouth.

Michael was a little bewildered with his niece’s actions, but decided to play along, imitating her stance and doing his best not to laugh at her little face trying to hold a scowl. She turned to Liz and whispered in her ear, and she set her down a moment later. Lexi walked up to her uncle arms still folded and craned her neck up to see him, not at all intimidated by his towering form.

“You a giant, Grumpy.” she finally said.

Michael knelt down to Lexi’s level unfolding his arms, but keeping his scowl on for effect, “Better?” he asked.

Lexi nodded, unfolding her arms, reaching out to smooth out her uncle’s furrowed brow with her tiny hands and pushed up one corner of his mouth into a crooked smile, “Better.” she said standing back with satisfaction.

She stepped forward wrapping her arms around his neck, her little hands getting tangled in his long hair and the smooth baby skin of her cheek pressed against his freshly shaven one, “My Unca. Mine. Mine. Mine.” she whispered, softly, staking her claim.

If Lexi hadn’t completely owned his heart before, Michael was sure she’d stolen it in that moment. And were he not already on his knees he might have fallen to them at her unwavering trust and love for a man she only knew through photos and brief phone conversations. He brought his own arms around the little girl lifting her off of the ground so he could hold onto her. Initially he was afraid that, because she was so tiny, he might squeeze her too hard, but with the tight hold she had around his neck, he was more in danger of suffocating than she ever was.

Michael had held children before, he was no stranger to their near weightlessness in his strong arms, but for some reason holding this child, someone who shared a part of who he was, shook him. She smelled so clean and pure, like he was holding the personification of innocence in his arms. The way Lexi clung to him, was if she knew this was a feeling her uncle never got to experience.

Michael had never known this age or what it felt like as a child, to be safe. He didn’t have the baby shampoo and soft touches. He’d burst into the world as a six-year-old, naked and scared. And then he was shoved into a world of alcohol, smoke, and endless pain, both emotional and physical. It was as if Lexi knew her uncle needed her love, her innocence, just a little more than anyone else.

Tears touched Liz’s and Isabel’s eyes, who’d managed to get Kyle away from the dangerous mistletoe to watch the meeting of Lexi and her other uncle take place, and the seemingly instantaneous bond that formed between them. Isabel was already dreading the end of the trip when she’d have to tear Michael and Lexi apart.

Lexi pulled back from her uncle to look at his face and quickly wiped a tear from his cheek she sensed he wouldn’t want anyone to see. Her eyes fell to the stage and the mini wonderland that had been created there.

“How you get Santa to come here, Grumpy?” she asked him.

Michael smiled and turned them around to get a better look at Sweet posing for a picture with one of the children, “Well your dad told me how piss...” he heard both Isabel and Liz clear their throats, “Uh... peeved... you were when you found out we don’t get snow here so I called in a few favors and got the fat man to come here. You wanna go over there?”

Lexi nodded emphatically but then looked back at Isabel and Kyle for approval, “Yeah go on, munchkin.” Kyle waved at her.

Lexi smiled wide at Michael and patted his shoulder, “Come on, Grumpy. I got long list.”

~*~

Two hours later the kids and their mothers from the shelter left, and with the extra help clean-up was minimal. So, Michael and Liz took their guests up to their apartment along with Sweet and Miriam. Isabel marveled at the spacious living area, absolutely in love with the old world charm Michael had managed to keep in it. It was a decorators dream come true.

She was a little disappointed at what she saw as wasted space in the master bedroom, that was serving as Michael’s studio. She took Liz aside for a little shop talk.
“You know he’d turn this into a bedroom if you asked him too Liz. I mean it could be romantic, and sexy...”

Liz shook her head, “I appreciate the thought Isabel, but I like it the way it is. I get to write in my journal while Michael’s painting. And besides, the lighting just wouldn’t be right in any other room.”

“But you could still write in your journal out there and he could paint in the other room, it wouldn’t be so different.” Isabel argued half-heartedly.

“I love knowing he’s there Isabel.” Liz countered. “I love the paint splotches on the floor and the smell of oils mixed with turpentine. I love hearing paint tubes drop on that table and his bare feet shuffle on the wood when he moves around each piece. I can’t imagine <i>not</I> hearing that. It wouldn’t be us.”

Isabel sighed heavily, the picture she’d created in her mind of a bedroom right out of <i>Gone With the Wind</I> fading with every word Liz spoke about the charm and infinite romance the room held for she and Michael. They didn’t need silk drapes and overstuffed chais lounges, matching pillows or four poster beds. She was beginning to agree that indeed her vision would not have held true to who Michael and Liz were. Bare, stripped, with nothing to hide. Simple.

Michael, with Lexi firmly glued into his arms, she already beyond smitten with her shaggy haired uncle, took Kyle and Max around the apartment telling them about the floor he’d sanded and refinished with his own labor and sweat and the cabinets in the kitchen that he and Liz had stripped and refinished together. It was evident that even before Liz had arrived in New Orleans that a lot of Michael soul had gone into his home. Now their home.

They dropped Isabel, Kyle and Lexi’s bags in Michael’s old room where’d they’d be staying and he took them into the room that he and Liz shared. Max could hear the steady rhythm of Michael’s voice telling Kyle how he did have to use a little alien magic to extend and deepen their closet when he moved into the room, but Max’s attention focused on the bed.

It took up a great deal of the room, it being California king. Michael was far too tall for the regular beds and told Max when they were teenagers one of the first things he’d buy, when he got any kind of money, was a nice big bed that wouldn’t give him muscles cramps from trying to fit on it.

The bed was neatly made, simple, not a dust ruffle in sight, a deal breaker when Michael agreed to move into the room with Liz. He was not a believer in anything frilly and he knew Liz didn’t need that. Max lost himself in the stitching of the old quilt, one of Grandma Claudia’s that Liz had inherited after her death, at the foot of the bed. That very quilt used to reside at the end of the bed he used to share with Liz. He’d never told Isabel, that the missing quilt was his final clue that Liz had left him and hadn’t been taken. And now there it was, lying comfortably on the bed that Liz, his wife, shared with Michael, his brother. It was too much.

Max let out a slight cough to cover the sob that escaped his throat and excused himself to get a glass of water from the kitchen. Kyle, Sweet and Michael all exchanged a knowing glance. This was going to be harder for Max than either Kyle or Michael had bargained for. Sweet followed Max out of the room to check on the disheartened man, finding him standing in the living room staring at Michael’s <i>Dangerous</I> painting.

“Little overwhelmin’?” Sweet asked him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Max nodded. He’d initially been wary of both Sweet and Miriam, uncomfortable with the fact that more people had been pulled into their alien web and moreover they were people he didn’t know. But even as bitter as he was with Michael, the fact that his brother had let these people not only into his life , but his heart and trusted them with both, gave Max a strong sense of comfort. That and in the short span of time he’d spent around him, Sweet had managed to work his considerable charm on the distraught young man.

“Don’t imagine this is easy for you. Seein’ your wife in love with another man.” Sweet said, still staring ahead at the painting with Max.

“Kinda hard to miss that Michael is in love with her. It’s everywhere.” Max gestured at the painting. “It’s suffocating.”

Sweet’s heart pinched a bit. Max still hadn’t acknowledged seeing the love that Liz held for Michael. He’d heard this boy was stubborn and single minded when it came to his wife, but Sweet was sure Max had to see what was so clear to everyone else. Even the little girl, Lexi, had sensed it. But there Max stood, trying to keep his toehold in Liz’s life.

“Why don’t you get your bag, Max.” Sweet said deciding that the place and moment were wrong for any words of wisdom he might have to provide the shattering young man.

Max took his eyes away from the painting, finally looking over at Sweet, “I don’t understand... I thought...”

“You really want to stay in the same apartment where your wife is in bed with your brother, while you’re sleeping on the couch underneath that painting?” Sweet asked him matter-of-factly, “You said it yourself... its suffocatin’ and from they way I see it you’re barely hangin’ on by a thread here.”

“You don’t know a thi...” Max began to protest, “Did Michael ask you to put me up?”

Sweet shook his head, “No. Liz did. And even if she hadn’t I would have volunteered. There’s way too much tension for you to be in stayin’ in their home and with your niece around...”

“But I need a chance to talk to Liz...” Max argued trying to disguise his desperation.

“And you’ll get it, Boy. She’s not avoidin’ you...”
“She’s doing a fair impression of it.” Max interrupted.

Sweet shook his head, “And I thought there wasn’t anyone alive more stubborn than Michael.” He held Max’s hard eyes with his gentle ones, “You keep pushin’ like you are Max, and this is only gonna end badly.”

“I don’t want it to end at all.” Max fired back in a forced whisper, “No one seems to get that!”

Sweet saw the pain that resided in Max’s heart bared in his eyes. This boy stood in the way of his son’s happiness and yet he found himself wanting to hug the stuffing out this poor man, who loved so deeply if not misguidedly. It was clear to anyone that saw Max that he was still in love with Liz, no one would deny him that.

But it was also clear he was clinging to whatever love Liz had left for him and in doing so, was letting himself waste away in agony at every rejection or new facet of her life that didn’t include him. He’d been so singularly focused that he was neglecting himself physically and emotionally, pinning his entire world’s happiness on retrieving Liz’s love, only to watch it crumble around him. Max had to let go, but he just wasn’t ready.

“Look,” Sweet offered, his voice sympathetic, “Just give it another day. Y’all are her til after New Years. Let them enjoy the reunion... even if you can’t.”

Max gritted his teeth, “If Michael and Liz hadn’t left in the fir...” he trailed off, but the kind wisdom of this old man soothed him, “Yeah...a day... Waited this long haven’t I?”

“That’s the spirit.” Sweet chuckled, patting the young man’s shoulder.

~*~

While there was still an uneasy tension in the air with the triangle of Liz, Michael and Max, things had managed to calm down as the day turned into evening. The time had been spent catching up on the years missed and the present. Lexi alternated between Liz and Michael’s laps reveling in the closeness and love she’d missed out on from either of them in their absence.

Liz and Michael had made a conscious effort, on Max’s behalf, to not be too overt with their affection for one another, but they weren’t inclined to hide it either. He needed to see that their relationship was real, alive, not some fleeting fling that would run its course. They’d been careful not to discuss the ins and outs of their new relationship knowing the heartache and tension it would cause him. They stuck to Michael’s art, the bar and Liz’s classes.

Max had been content to sit back and watch the revelry, elated, on some level to see his family back together and coming to really love the new editions that were Sweet and Miriam. Sweet had regaled them with stories about Michael, how they’d met the times before Liz came into the picture and even some things Liz hadn’t heard about yet.

Max watched the interaction between Michael and Sweet, seeing the paternal nature to their relationship. The awe and sense of respect Michael had for the man, not something Michael doled out to anyone, let alone an older man. Michael had always respected Jim Valenti, but Max swore he never saw the easy adoration Michael seemed to hold for Sweet. The love. It made Max miss his own father all the more, though he was genuinely happy that Michael had finally filled that piece of his heart that had always been missing.

When the day’s excitements finally caught up with her, Lexi fell asleep, her head resting comfortably in Liz’s lap and her legs draped over Michael’s. She’d threaded her little fingers through Michael’s while Liz absently stoked her hair, and the volume of their conversation lowered, as if on instinct.

About forty minutes later the reunited friends decided to turn in. Miriam and Sweet had offered to show Isabel and Kyle their city the next morning, and Michael and Liz offered to babysit Lexi.

While Liz was escorting Sweet, Miriam and Max out, he stopped her briefly, “Liz...can we talk tomorrow? I know you guys will have Lexi, but....”

Liz nodded, “Tomorrow.” a small smile touched her lips, “She’ll probably monopolize all of Michael’s time anyway.”

Max smiled looking back at the tyke curled up on Michael’s lap fast asleep. Kyle tried to pick his daughter up to take her to bed and she clutched Michael’s shirt tightly furrowing her brow, “No Daddy. I sleep with, Grumpy.”

Isabel opened her mouth to tell Lexi no, but Michael waved his hand at his sister, “She can sleep with us tonight, Is. Its okay.”

Kyle arched an eyebrow over at Liz, “You sure...I mean how grouchy is Shaggy here if he doesn’t get his nightly...” But he was stopped with a hard nudge from his wife, when a pained expression consumed Max’s face.

Liz chuckled lightly at Kyle, “Its not him you have to worry about.”

She looked back at Max and saw the same expression Isabel had. She hated that she’d put it there, but she wasn’t going to hide the fact that she shared a bed with Michael. It would be easy to avoid touchy subjects for sake of Max’s fragile ego, but the sooner he accepted that this was way things were, the sooner he could move on with his own life.

Michael rose off the couch with Lexi in his arms and Isabel came out of their room with a set of pyjamas to put her in. He looked over at Liz nodding his head towards the bedroom, and she nodded back, letting him know she’d be right behind him.

“I’ll see you in the morning then?” Max asked, doing his best to mask his discomfort. When Liz nodded, he acted boldly placing his hand over hers resting on the door handle and caressed the back of it with his thumb, “You really do look great Liz. I mean... beautiful.”

Liz didn’t jerk her hand away, but rather pulled it away gently and met the man’s eyes who once seemed to hold her soul, with her own, “Thanks Max... and I wish I could say the same for you. I mean you look so... lost.”

“You have that effect on me.” Max told her bluntly. “I miss you... so much.”

“Max... Please... don’t...” Liz protested down casting her eyes. The hope she still saw floating in his was too much for her heart. He never could make things easy.

“I know...tomorrow... sorry... I just...” Max stammered as he shuffled out the door.

“Goodnight Max” Liz said shutting the door quietly.

Max descended the stair of the apartment and down to Miriam and Sweet’s car where the couple gave him concerned looks. Max shook his head in answer letting them know he wasn’t comfortable talking about the myriad of emotions coursing through his heart at the moment.

“I think its time for Linsey.” Sweet whispered to his wife. Miriam’s eyes watered and she kissed her husband’s cheek with a nod.

~*~

When Max had settled into his room at Johnston home, he slipped into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, and found Sweet seated on a stool with a hot mug of tea. He wordlessly retrieved a glass for Max. Once he had his juice Max took a seat next to the old man.

“Miriam in bed?” he asked starting out the conversation he felt coming from the moment they’d stepped into the house.

“Yeah. She’s an early riser.” Sweet chuckled, “And me bein’ an ol’ night owl... Not sure what the Lord was thinkin’ puttin’ us together. But I sure am glad he did.”

Max smiled, finding Sweet’s grin contagious, “Thanks again for letting me stay here...I coulda just got myself a hotel room...”

“Nonsense.” Sweet admonished him, “You’re Michael and Liz’s family. Means your family to me.”

“You really love Michael don’t you?” Max asked him, upon Sweet’s nod he continued, “Well, I’m glad he found you. He...uh...didn’t have many good father figures growing up.”

“Yeah I know.” Sweet said, “Kinda hard to get that paternal feelin’ for a boy that’s your age.”

Max’s eyes widened. “I didn’t...”

“Sure ya did, Max. And no one is blaming you. It just wasn’t your role to fill.” Sweet said matter-of-factly.

“I’m beginning to wonder if I have a role to play at all anymore.” Max confessed, “Even Liz told me tonight that I look...lost. And I am. I mean how do you go on with half your heart gone?”

“Ya let go.” Sweet answered simply.

Max stared down at his juice watching the frothy bubbles pop one by one, “I’m not ready to do that.”

“You need to be. Holdin’ on is only draggin’ yourself down, boy, and from where I’m sittin’ you ain’t got much further to go before you hit bottom.”

Max sighed heavily, “I’ve loved Liz since I can remember, Sweet. And when she accepted my life, who I was...became my wife... God, I was never happier...and knowing she was there..it made the tough times that much easier... I can’t stop loving her... and I refuse to believe she’s stopped loving me. You don’t share what we had and... It just doesn’t stop.”

“First of all Max... No one has asked you to stop lovin’ Liz. That’d be like askin’ the moon to stop rising or the Earth to stop turnin’. And second, Liz hasn’t stopped lovin’ you...”

“I knew it!” Max said excitedly, but Sweet put up a hand.

“Listen up. I said she hasn’t stopped, but she has <i>changed</I> that love for you. Just like she did for Michael. We all do that.”

Max’s brow furrowed, “Says the man who’s been married...what..five times?”

“You know, just because I’ve been married a few times, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to love deeply young man.” Sweet said a little agitated, “And the truth is I would have stopped at two... ah never mind...”

He moved to get up when Max rested his hand on the old man’s arm, “No...Look Sweet I’m sorry... I just assumed...Please...sit...Two huh? She was The One?”

Sweet nodded, “Thought so. I mean... now that I have Miriam... I think she’s my second chance, but with Linsey... She was so beautiful...and funny... Wasn’t a room she walked into that didn’t just light up for her.” He chuckled a bit, “Liz looks a lot like her. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, slender, a smile that grabbed you right at your heart and didn’t let go...but Linsey, she was tall...nearly an Amazon...least compared to me....Lord, I thought I had it right with her. Shoulda known angels don’t get to stay on Earth for long.”

Max heard the sorrow in Sweet’s voice, “I’m uh...sorry... how did she um...die?”

“Childbirth.” Sweet answered, taking a sip from his tea.

Max was confused, “Childbirth? I’m sorry, but didn’t Michael tell Isabel that you couldn’t have children.”

“Couldn’t and still can’t. Sterile.” Sweet answered, “Wasn’t my baby.”

“Oh...” Max said a little dumbfounded, “That must’ve been hard to take.”

“Not really.” Sweet shrugged his shoulders, sitting back in the chair a bit to get comfortable, “See, Linsey was dating my best friend at the time. Charlie. Good enough guy, but a wild one. Never could be tied down by trivial things like a girlfriend with a baby. So, when Linsey told him she was expectin’, well the son of a bitch took off. Signed up with the merchant marines and set sail two days later. Coulda killed him myself if he hadn’t left...”

“So, how did you end up marrying her?” Max asked, genuinely curious.

“At the time? I just felt it was the right thing to do. Back in those days it was much worse to pregnant and unmarried, than it is nowadays...and with a mixed baby to boot. Linsey and I were friends and after what Charlie did to her, she wasn’t interested in marryin’ for love. So she accepted my proposal and all the prejudice that came with being a white girl married to a black man in the sixties...in the south.”

“So you weren’t even in love when you got married?” Max asked, a bit stunned.

“Oh I was smitten, but no... the love came later.” Sweet said his voice catching a bit at the memories his story was evoking. “Something about watching a life growing inside someone... in her... Didn’t matter that the baby wasn’t mine, became mine every second her belly grew. We talked about names, got through the morning sickness and the cravings. The first kick...” Sweet chuckled, “That was the first time she kissed me too. Really kissed me. I’d just come home from work and I would always put my hand on her belly greeting her and the child and boom...just kicked. Linsey was so excited she kissed me. It started out as kiss of celebration, but when she pulled back, we just knew... magic.”

Max grinned, “Yeah... felt the same way with Liz... we just had this magic...”

“<i>Had</i>, bein’ the key word there son... do ya still feel it, from her?” Sweet asked taking a momentary detour from his story.

Max downcast his eyes once again and cleared his throat, “So...um....after that kiss things were good with you and Linsey huh?”

Sweet nodded, moving on. He knew he’d hit a sore spot with Max. “Yeah. Fell in love with my best friend, go figure. Wasn’t always easy though. I mean Linsey was a pistol...and those hormones, Lord, there were days I was lucky to come out alive.” He laughed heartily, “Like the time I hid her favorite pair of platform sandals. She was about five months along by that point and it wasn’t a good thing for her to be on heels, but she argued with me about it. She didn’t see why she had to sacrifice fashion for practicality. So I hid them. Then had to hide myself.

“I tried to tell that even if not for her own safety, those shoes made us stick out even more than we did. She was a tall girl as I said, but with those shoes...made me look like a damn dwarf. A mixed race couple expectin’ a baby walking down Bourbon St. was enough of an attention getter, believe me.”

“She was character, huh?” Max asked sharing in Sweet’s laughter.

“The best of ‘em.” Sweet answered, “Now back in those days they still had separate hospitals for whites and blacks. We knew when the time came for the baby to be born, I wouldn’t be able to go into the hospital with her and while the black hospital would take her it was about a hundred miles away. Not exactly convenient. So we contacted a midwife...weren’t too many of those around either, so we couldn’t really afford to be choosey. We’d have the baby at home.”

“But something went wrong didn’t it?” Max asked tentatively, sensing the pain of what happened to Linsey was something that never waned for Sweet.

“Horribly.” Sweet answered with a shaky breath, “Baby was breech... and Linsey, well she was bleeder, add to that high blood pressure with the stress she was under when things got scary.... And that midwife... she had no idea how to handle the problems she was faced with. Found out later she’d never actually delivered a baby before. We were her first...and last She kept telling us she could handle it... all we had to do was relax... But God there was so much blood...and Linsey, she was strong... but she was in so much pain... I knew I had to get her to a hospital.”

“Did you?” Max asked enthralled.

“Yeah.” Sweet said, the tears in his eyes already beginning to spill onto his cheeks, “Took her to the white hospital five miles away. Of course they wouldn’t let me come in...be with her... but a nurse there...she was mighty kind...told me to wait outside, she’d let me know... but I knew it was bad. Linsey was unconscious when I brought her in.”

Sweet wiped his eyes and took a sip of tea, in an attempt to collect himself, “I paced out there for what must have been hours. Frantic out of my mind. Finally I just got down on my knees and prayed. That’s when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was that kind nurse... I knew when I looked up at her, she was cryin’... Linsey had bled out...she was gone. Didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Max swallowed the lump in his throat at the old man’s pain, “What about the baby? Couldn’t they save it?”

“No.” Sweet answered, his sorrow so raw, “Oxygen starved. Never had a chance.”

“I’m sorry.” Max said wiping away a tear, finally for someone’s pain other than his own and knowing something about losing a child, even though his own son was alive and well...hopefully happy.

Sweet nodded, “I was pretty much a useless soul at that point. I’d just lost my reason’s for bein’. The love of my wife and child. And I walked around for a year after that...dead...Cursin’ out God, askin’ him why he didn’t just take me along with him for all the good I was doin’. Didn’t see why there was any good in me stickin’ round and I asked him to take me, but he wouldn’t.”

“So what happened? I mean you seem okay today?” Max asked. “And no offense, but what does your wife’s death have to do with my...”

“I let go.” Sweet interrupted. “I took a look at myself and figured that for whatever reason the Lord saw fit to keep me around and I had to stop followin, Linsey and our child into the grave. I loved Linsey, but I had to let her go if I was ever gonna be useful to anyone ever again. And I did. I let go and moved on. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t be sitting with you here now.

“Sure I made mistakes. Who doesn’t? But all of that led me to here. To Miriam. To Michael. To Liz. All of that... happiness, because I let go. And you have to do the same. Liz may not be dead, but your marriage is and accordin’ to her it has been for a long time. You said it yourself, you’re lost. Best thing you can do, for her, and mostly for yourself Max, is...Just. Let. Go.”

Max clenched his jaw, as though feeling his grip on the life he wanted back, slipping through his teeth. “I’ve don’t know any other way. Liz <i>is</I> my happiness, Sweet. I’m too scared to just let that go.”

Sweet sighed heavily and got up off the stool placing his empty cup in the sink, “Then I don’t know what else to tell you Max. Liz has moved on with her life and you’re just standin’ still while the whole world goes on around you. You may have been a king, Boy, but even there the world didn’t stop for you and this one won’t either.”

Sweet made his way out of the kitchen content to let Max ruminate about his life and the story he’d relayed, hoping in some way it had made its way past the denial, pain, and anger and struck a chord of truth.

“Wait...” Max called out softly, and Sweet turned around, “Um... do you...uh, know what it was. The baby. Was it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy. A son.” Sweet answered, his voice cracking.

“A son... “ Max said wistfully, remembering the brief time he’d had with his own. “You said, you and Linsey talked about names... What...”

“Michael.” Sweet said with a smile, “His name was Michael.”
~*~

TBC...

[dreaming of the incrowd]

You're KYLE Is freaking awesome

[Peachykin]

I'm reallly glad you're liking this dreamingoftheincrowd


Liz was the first to wake the next morning, feeling a slight chill around her legs. She reached for the quilt that Michael and Lexi had kicked off in the wee hours of the morning, both unaccustomed to their current sleeping arrangements. Lexi, because of the warmer winters of the bayou, and Michael unused to wearing to pyjamas to bed.

Liz reveled in her early awakening, surveying the inseparable duo next to her. Both Lexi and Michael lay on their sides facing one another, Lexi curled up in little ball practically burying her face into her uncle’s neck. Their hair fell in soft, if not messy, light brown waves around them and Michael draped his arm, protectively over her little body, while she rested one of her palms over his heart in a silent, innocent gesture of possession.

The night before, after Liz had escorted Max out of the apartment and he’d made his uncomfortable declaration, Liz entered the room she shared with Michael, worrying her bottom lip. She looked up to their bed and found Lexi fast asleep in the middle still wearing her street clothes and Michael sitting at the edge of the bed, staring in blatant bewilderment at the tiny nightgown Isabel had given him to put on Lexi.

“Uh...Liz?” he whispered scratching his eyebrow, “How do we...uh... put this on her without waking her up?”

Liz immediately forgot her anxiety of a few minutes earlier and giggled at Michael’s predicament as she approached him, taking the tiny red nightgown out of his large hands, “One thing you need to know about Lexi is that she can sleep through just about anything, especially after having such an exciting day.”

“You sure?” Michael asked skeptically, having only rarely experienced such a deep sleep in either of his lifetimes.

Liz kissed his cheek before crawling over the bed to her niece sitting the girl up gently and delicately removing her shirt. Michael sucked in a slight breath when Lexi mumbled sleepily as Liz pulled the pyjamas over the little girl’s messy curls. Liz smiled at him watching him relax when Lexi didn’t open her eyes and fell back against her pillow laying limply on top of the blankets as her aunt pulled off her jeans and handed them to Michael to neatly fold and place on the armchair.

Liz pulled the quilt over Lexi’s legs and got up to retrieve one of Michael’s old T-shirts out of his drawer for herself to wear. Michael caught on, but his brow once again furrowed.

“Do I even own pyjamas, Liz?” He asked his girlfriend as she shed her clothes.

Liz smiled, shaking her head handing him his sweats, “Just wear these for tonight.”

Michel nodded retreating into the bathroom to change on the off chance Lexi would wake up. When he returned a few minutes later Liz was already in bed nestled next to Lexi under the quilt, running her fingers through the tot’s hair and tear slipping down her cheek.
Michael climbed onto his side of bed, leaning over Lexi to give Liz a delicate kiss, “Did Max say something to upse...” he asked when he pulled away.

Liz shook her head, “I can handle, Max. I just didn’t realize how much I’d missed Lexi until now.”

“Regrets?” Michael asked, slight worry and guilt tinging his voice.

“Only that I had to miss out on so much with her, but I wouldn’t change where it brought me.” She answered him.

Michael nodded sharing the same feeling with Liz. He sighed as they lay against the pillow, their hands laced together over Lexi’s tummy, “Tomorrow is gonna be rough...with Max isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Liz breathed, “But I’ll make it. I just don’t know how many ways I can tell him our marriage is over, before he really believes it.”

“You believe it don’t you?” Michael asked, already knowing the answer before she nodded, “Then the rest is up to him, Liz.” He added, “You can’t control his heart.”

Liz rolled her eyes and gave Michael a crooked smile, “And they call Max the control freak...”

Michael was about to comment when Lexi shifted beneath her their hands scooting herself into his body. His eyes widened a bit over at Liz, unfamiliar with having something so tiny sleep so close to him.

“I’m gonna crush her.” He whispered to Liz in a mild panic.

Liz shook her head, “No you won’t. You’re the protector, remember?” she teased.

Michael looked at her skeptically, but relaxed when Lexi, still in her slumber brought her hand up to curl a lock of his hair in her fingers, mumbling, “My Unca.”.

Not another word had been exchanged between Michael and Liz as moments later they both fell into a slumber, unusually at ease having a new body in their bed with them.

Now, as the morning light crept across the hardwood floors, Liz saw Lexi turn in her uncle’s arms and flutter her eyes open to stare up at her aunt. She sat up and away from Michael staring down at him then back up at Liz, “He still sleepy?” She asked with a yawn.

Liz nodded, “Wanna let him sleep some more?”

Lexi shook her head, “Nope. Play time.”She whispered with an impish giggle.

“Okay.” Liz told Lexi, her tone a bit warning, “But remember his name. He’s Grumpy for a reason.”

Lexi shrugged her shoulder at her aunt, “He love me.”

Liz clamped a hand over her mouth stifling loud laughter at Lexi’s confidence, well placed confidence, for Michael did love this little girl with a gentleness he rarely displayed.

“He tickle?” Lexi asked Liz in a loud whisper.

Liz chuckled seeing the corners of Michael’s mouth fight to not turn into a smile. He’d been awake since the moment Lexi had moved in his arms, but was content to let the little girl have her fun. Liz nodded, raising an eyebrow at her, “Very ticklish.”

Lexi giggled impishly and surveyed her uncle trying to guess his most ticklish spot. So much to choose from and he was a giant, so she had a lot of area to cover and didn’t know where to begin. She looked back at Liz, hoping her aunt could give her the inside track.

Now Liz could hardly give away Michael’s most ticklish spot, that area was reserved for only aunt’s and uncle’s without niece’s in the room, and usually led to things that would put them at the top of Santa’s naughty list, but she could go for spot number two and three. “I ususal get a pretty good reaction from his tummy and his ribs.” She told her niece.

Lexi nearly squealed at the information, but tamped it down not wanting to wake her slumbering uncle before she had any fun. Armed with her aunt’s traitorous information she crept her way closer and reached out her tiny fingers, wiggling them lightly over Michael’s belly button. She nearly jumped out of her skin and back into Liz as he immediately brought his hand up to brush away the tickling presence, grumbling softly before settling back into feigned sleep.

Liz nearly fell over with laughter at the devilish glint in her niece’s eyes, reminiscent of Kyle when he was playing practical jokes on his best friend. Lexi scooted forward again, this time tickling Michael’s ribs. Liz watched Michael, unable to contain the smile on his face, and then grumbled more loudly sending Lexi scrambling back into her aunt’s lap.

When Lexi was certain Michael had fallen back asleep she looked back up at her aunt and Liz made a gesture to his armpits. Lexi scrunched up her nose, trying to push down the giggles that were tickling her throat. She foolishly took her eyes away from Michael’s arms to watch his face as she wiggled her fingers toward him.

Just as her fingertips reached his skin Michael’s eyes flew open and he gathered the surprised toddler in her arms growling comically and tickling her tummy with one of his large hands. Lexi squealed, laughed and, writhed in her punishment. Tears of laughter streamed down Liz’s face at Lexi’s hearty laugh, wondering how such a small thing could hold that much joy inside her.

“You no sleep, Unca!” Lexi giggled when Michael stopped, folding his arms over his chest in an effort to look grumpy, when he could barely contain his own laughter, Lexi’s far too contagious.

“Hard to sleep when I’ve got a little bug crawling all over me.” He grumbled.

Lexi held her sides, “Auntie helped!”

Liz’s eyes widened as Michael shifted his gaze up to her and raised an amused eyebrow, “Lexi James! You sold me out!” she said, in mock shock.

Michael leaned down, whispering loudly to the now seated child, “You know...Auntie is ticklish...And she’s gotta pay the piper too.”

Lexi mimicked her uncle folding her arms across her chest, “Dat’s right. Pay da piper, Auntie.” She said with confidence, although having no idea what her uncle meant.

Liz backed off the bed slowly as Michael wiggled his fingers at Lexi, letting her know exactly wheat he intended to do her auntie, “Now... Michael...You can’t blame me... I was sucked in by Lexi’s cuteness... Can you really say no to her?”

Michael was unfazed as he rose from the bed helping Lexi down as well. Liz nearly doubled over at the hunter-like expression on both of their faces, looking much like a lion teaching a cub how to stalk her prey. Liz backed away reaching for the doorknob as Michael and Lexi made their way around the bed, the same devilish glint in their eyes.

“Lexi..” Liz reasoned, “Remember, your mommy and daddy are sleeping....”

“Dey need wake up.” The little imp argued.

Liz’s shoulder’s sagged turning the doorknob behind her and her eyes fell to Michael, “And if you want me to make breakfast...”

“I’m a better cook.” Michael interrupted he and Lexi seemingly inching toward her in a tandem.

Liz narrowed her eyes at him, momentarily forgetting her advancing tickle attackers, “You should really be nicer to me..” She tired to argue, “I still have both of your Christmas presents!”

Liz swung the door open quickly as they all broke into a run heading for the kitchen. Liz screamed and laughed as they cornered her against the cabinets and Lexi could barely tickle her aunt for her own laughter. Michael was able to hold his focus concentrating on Liz’s ribs as she squirmed against him.

“Michael!” Liz giggled, “Lexi will never get her birthday presents if you keep...ahhh!...tickling me.”

Lexi’s eyes widened and she stopped laughing, “Christmas...<i>and</I> birfday presents?”

Liz tried to nod, but Michael’s relentless tickling barely afforded her a coherent movement. Lexi furrowed her brow in thought and then a moment later started pulling on Michael’s arm. “Stop Unca! Stop! Auntie had nuff!”

Michael stopped, glaring down at Liz, “Bribery? That’s low, Elizabeth.”

Liz leaned up on her tiptoes dropping a kiss on Michael’s lips, “But effective.” She downcast her eyes at Lexi, who was tugging at her uncle’s sweats, a pleading look plastered on her face.

Michael relented, releasing Liz from his grasp and went down to the hall closet to retrieve one of Lexi’s birthday presents. Liz started the coffee and set about fixing breakfast, despite Michael’s earlier comment about being the better cook. Lexi and Michael sat at the dining room table and she tore into the box. It was a child’s board game, <i>Memory</I>.

“Oh we have dis at day care!” she squealed at Michael, “I very good!”

“Prove it.” Michael told her in challenge, beyond amused by the child’s raised eyebrow, reminiscent of both her parents.

Liz started the coffee and padded around the kitchen fixing scrambled eggs, toast and sausage every once in while tossing her gaze over to the dining room table to watch Michael and Lexi. She shook her head as they started a new game spreading the pieces out on the table and Lexi climbed into Michael’s lap, her elbows propping her head up on the table, ultimate concentration painted on their faces.

Liz nearly threw an egg at Michael when she saw him raise a hand slightly, so Lexi wouldn’t see, point a finger at a particular piece on the board and it began to shake slightly. He didn’t want Lexi to be disappointed if she didn’t get it right, so he figured he’d help her along. Lexi saw the small piece of cardboard flutter against the table and she whipped her head around pointing a finger at Michael.

“Unca, I no learn if you cheat.” she scolded.

Michael held up his hands in denial when he felt someone slap the back of his head lightly, “You tell him girlie.” Kyle chuckled. “You teaching my daughter bad habits there, Grumpy?”

“Oh shut up.” Isabel rolled her eyes as she followed behind her husband, “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve caught you helping Lexi with your powers I’d...”

“Have nuff to send me to Hav...Harvad.” Lexi said finishing her mother’s sentence with droll far too old for her young age, and then shrugged her shoulders looking back at Michael, “What Harvad?”

“Harvard.” Michael chuckled, “Is a school for really, really smart people Lexi. Like your Aunt Liz.”
Liz looked up at him from her cooking and gave a wistful smile and what might have been, but was entirely happy with where he life’s path had led her.

Lexi giggled, “Den I go to Harvad. I smart.” She scrunched up her nose in thought. “Do dey have nap time dere?”

After everyone got through laughing Liz passed out large mugs of coffee for everyone. Lexi stared at the a steaming mugs in the adults hands and pouted, “I want coffee too.”

Liz shook her head at the little girl handing her a glass of orange juice, with a crazy straw to appease the girl, “Sorry munchkin, but I’ll share some juice with ya and you won’t feel so left out.”

“Dat’s fair.” Lexi said matter-of-factly taking a sip of her juice when Liz did.

Michael laughed, “Besides Lexi, coffee stunts your growth. Just look at your dad.”

“Ha.Ha. Splice Boy.” Kyle said dryly then surveyed the table, “You letting Lexi open her presents early...cause if that’s the case...Gimmee.” he held out his hand.

Michael shook his head rising off the chair and placing Lexi back in it, “Is that how he looks when he’s asking for se...” but Isabel widened her eyes at her brother... “Uh... marital relations?”

Isabel was laughing too hard to get mad and nodded, “Except usually he’s on his knees with his pants around his ankles.”

“Now that’s appetizing.” Liz commented holding a hand over her mouth in feigned nausea.

Kyle glared between his wife and Michael, “And to think I actually admitted missing you.” he told Michael.

“You just missed catching glimpes of me in the shower, Midget. I mean, I can hardly blame you.” Michael batted his eyelashes as he plated the finished sausage and wrapped his arms around Liz as she sipped her juice.

“Ah.” Kyle sighed, “Guess it wouldn’t be a proper visit without an indecent proposal from Grumpy here. I know I’m the real reason you left. I mean how many times can you hear “No” from your hearts desire and not be utterly shattered.”

As if on some sort of unearthly cue the door to Michael and Liz’s apartment swung open ushering in Sweet, Miriam and Max, his eyes immediately searching out Liz, stiffening when he saw her residing in Michael’s embrace smiling as he pulled aside her long dark hair to drop a gentle kiss on her neck.

Michael quirked an eyebrow over at Kyle, as he joined them by the stove, “Dude, you are good.”
“It’s cosmic.” Kyle mused.

Michael felt Max’s eyes on he and Liz in their gentle embrace, almost willing them to separate, but both he and Liz refused to comply. It was an unspoken pact between the two of them, they loved Max in their own ways, but it was time to stop sparing his feelings when it came to their relationship. Releasing their hold on each other, specifically to make things less uncomfortable for Max, would suggest that they felt their relationship was wrong. Not a notion either of them held.

Max’s stomach clenched as he saw that Michael neither released his hold on Liz, nor did he tighten it either. They simply remained locked together in ease, despite the fact that he was sitting in front of them. How was he to seem unaffected by the gentle touches and gestures Liz gave Michael, that had only years before been delivered upon his own skin? She was letting Michael touch her like a lover. A husband. And yet Max remembered how she recoiled from his touch the night before, and he <i>was</I> her husband.

As much as Sweet’s story of loss had touched Max, he felt there were a few major differences. Sweet had to let go, Linsey was dead. Liz was standing only a few feet away vibrant, alive...happy. It wasn’t as if he was holding onto the spirit of someone who’d died, was he?

Max felt a delicate hand pat his clenched fist and he tore his eyes away from Michael and Liz, meeting Lexi’s smiling, but concerned face, and relaxed immediately at her innocence and charm.

“You play wit me, Unca.” she said softly, feeling his hand loosen from its balled up state. She loved her Uncle Max with all her heart, but she didn’t understand why he was so tense. Mommy had once told her that when you love someone, you want them to be happy. Auntie was happy, and Uncle Max loved her, so why was he so sad, so angry?

Max nodded, taking one last glance at Michael and Liz, unwilling to acknowledge the further sinking feeling he got. That would mean he was losing. Losing her. And with his happiness still tied to the dark-haired woman in his brother’s arms...losing was not yet an option.

~*~

After breakfast Kyle, Isabel, Liz and Lexi dressed for the day. Michael remained in his sweats, planning on doing some painting with Lexi, while Liz and Max had their talk.

Isabel was passing out last minute instructions to Michael regarding the care of her daughter. Lexi rolled her eyes up at her mother. She was with Grumpy, the protector. She’d never felt safer in her life. Michael glanced down at the toddler and saw her annoyance with her mother, winking at her.

When Isabel leaned down to give her daughter a kiss Michael disappeared into the hall closet again retrieving yet another one of Lexi’s birthday presents. The child immediately squealed with excitement when she saw a child-sized wooden easel with a pink ribbon on top of it in Michael’s hand and a package of bright finger-paints in the other

“I paint! I paint!” she chanted, stripping off her t-shirt mimicking her uncle’s state of dress when he painted.

Isabel looked at Michael and sighed, “Its not even Christmas, Michael you’re going to spoil her.”

Michael shrugged his shoulder’s trying not to double over in laughter at the topless tot, “Isn’t that my job as uncle?” he asked his sister, receiving an unamused glare, “Look, I have at least two birthdays to make up for. Indulge me?”

Isabel, having rarely seen the boyish side to Michael as they grew up, immediately caved when she saw the pleading look on his face and the genuine tone behind his words. He’d regretted missing out so much on Lexi’s, and her life. He knew gifts wouldn’t make up for it, but his gifts gave him a chance to interact with his niece, expose her to his loves and talents. Letting her know, on her level, who her Uncle Michael really was.

“Just make sure you clean her up by the time we get home.” Isabel mildly ordered, Michael chuckled and nodded.

“Fun, Mommy.” Lexi said pushing her parents out the door with Sweet and Miriam, “Go have it!”

“I swear.” Isabel said in mock exhaustion, “I don’t know where you get your bossy streak from.”

Kyle snorted, “It’s a mystery mien wife.”

Max, Michael and Liz caught the deathly glare Isabel shot back at Kyle and grinned as they exited the house. Lexi shook her head, “Daddy got big mouth.”

“No argument here sprite.” Michael told her, “But this is a pretty romantic town. I think Daddy will get off light this time.”

“‘Mantic?” Lexi asked scrunching up he nose at the word, “Dat mean more kissin?”

Michael nodded, “Yup. Fraid so.”

“Blech.” she said in disgust.

Liz chuckled, “You won’t say that when you’re older Little Miss.”

“She better.” Max and Michael said in unison, not even wanting to ponder the possibility of their niece kissing boys that weren’t them, in ways that weren’t familial.
Liz rolled her eyes, “Great. Uncles with powers. Lexi you’ll wind up a nun.”

“Nun, mean no cooties?” Lexi asked earnestly.

“Definitely.” Michael answered, “We want you cootie free for as long as possible. No boys.”

“Michael...” Liz warned half-heartedly.

“What?” Michael asked innocently, “Us boys are nuthin’ but trouble.”

“He’s got point.” Max agreed, sensing a need to lighten the mood before the heavy discussion he was destined to have with his wife in the next few minutes.

Lexi laughed, “You not boy, Grumpy. You Unca.”

“Great. I’ve been deemed asexual by my niece.” Michael mused.

“Its just one opinion, Michael.” Liz said with a wink, a low tone in her voice that let Michael know in her eyes, he was anything but asexual.

Lexi grew bored with the grown-ups conversation and took the finger-paints from Michael’s hands, “Come on Grumpy. I paint. I paint!”

“Okay. Okay Mini Monet.” Michael relented, and then approached Liz, looking at Max just behind her, “I don’t have to remind you to be civil do I?” He asked in a low tone so Lexi couldn’t hear.

“Of course not.” Max glared.

Liz put a gentle hand on Michael’s bared stomach, bringing his gaze down to her, “I’ll be fine. Go entertain your niece.”

Michael nodded kissing her forehead and muttering, “Asexual and a child’s plaything. She owns me, doesn’t she?”

“You love it.” Liz smiled glancing down at the impatient, fidgeting child.

“Yeah. I kinda do.” he admitted, dropping a small kiss on Liz’s lips before Lexi tugged on his arm.

“Ugh! You too Unca? Too much kissin’!” she griped as they disappeared into the studio.

“Can’t argue with her there.” Max muttered. Liz ignored the comment and moved to sit on the couch.

Max was about to join her when his eyes caught the <i>Dangerous</I> painting, “Uh... Liz? Do you think we can talk in the dining room... I just...”

Liz followed his gaze and nodded. Yes, Max needed to realize that she and Michael were indeed together, but their was no need to assault him with it. She rose off the couch and Max followed her into the dining seating themselves next to one another.

Silence hung in the air as neither Max nor Liz knew how to begin the conversation. It was clear that Max had a plethora of things to say or ask, but seemed to crowd his mind and he didn’t know what to ask first. Uncomfortable with the silence Max stood up pacing slightly.

“I’ve thought about all the things I’ve wanted to say to you since you left... or what you might say to me... and I can’t...”

“So keep it simple, Max.” Liz provided, Michael’s philosophy on life seeping into her own.

Max stopped pacing seating himself again next to her and stared at his hands. Another minute passed before he looked up at her, “Come. Home.” he said plainly. “Please...” he added in afterthought.

Liz tightened her lips against teeth, “I. Am. Home.”

“How can you be married to me, and call living here...” he gestured at the apartment she shared with Michael, “‘home?’”

“I’m not married to you, Max...” Liz protested, but was quickly cut off.

“Really. Because I got a minister and a piece of paper that says you are. Hell, Michael was my best man. Even he’ll admit you’re...”

“And you wonder why I won’t come back with you?” Liz raised her voice, trying desperately to be heard. “I can’t get a word in edgewise and you make everything so God damn literal Max!”

Max watched the frustration play out of Liz’s face. This was starting all wrong. She was already on the defensive and pulling away from any sort of openness they might share. If he had any hope of understanding her he needed to be prepared to hear some harsh things and swallow them no matter how much it hurt to do so. He nodded at her to continue, watching her take a breath to maintain her composure.

“Yes, I’m married to you, but in name only. I thought I could get through the bad times as long as I loved you, but Max that wasn’t enough. I always believed love would be enough and its just not.” she said with conviction, knowing the words might tear apart the man before her.

“You still love me?” Max asked, unable to hide the love in his voice.

Liz nodded, but put her hand up before Max could spew out his plans for their future, “But not like you want me to. What we had, its gone. It died with the old me.”

“Don’t say that, Liz. You aren’t dead. You’re right here with me.” Max argued, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, “I look in your eyes and I still see you.” Liz turned her face away and stood up away from Max’s touch. Tears pricked his eyes, “Can you really not stand to be touched by me?”

Liz sighed, “You don’t get to touch me like that anymore, Max.”

Max clenched his jaw, “Like what? Like a husband?” Upon Liz’s nod, Max looked away from her, “ And Michael does?”

“Yes, Max, he does.” she answered plainly, “I love him. Don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

“See what?” Max asked, standing up quickly, causing Liz to jump slightly. Max winced, it was almost as if she was afraid of him, “I see... infatuation. I saw it when he left five years ago. No one thinks I paid attention when you started listening to Metallica, watching hockey, or even wearing that damn coat he left behind. I figured it was your way of coping with the loss of yet another friend. Alex was dead. Maria left. Michael filled the hole in your heart until he left. I never mistook it for anything more than it was. A desperate need to cling to the life you left behind. Michael’s was a part of that.

“And when you found him... you acted on that infatuation. It hurts, but its not unforgivable. You want to hurt me for Tess. I mean, I thought you were over that, but coming here, I see that you aren’t.”

“<i>Infatuation</I>?” Liz balked, “You realize you’re making my case for me? Heaven forbid I should have an original thought or feeling that didn’t have your kingly stamp of approval! You really feel me incapable of loving anyone more than I loved you?” she growled, incensed that Max was whittling down her feelings, her love for Michael to something as immature and small as infatuation.

“And as for Tess, I put that behind me before I married you. Whatever feelings of deceit I felt over you sleeping with her, creating a life with her... they died right along with her. They had to or I never would have married you in the first place. So, you don’t get to place the blame on Tess. A dead woman controls nothing I feel, and she can’t be a scapegoat for our problems. “Infatuation.” she nearly laughed.

Max had all the evidence in the world around him of Michael’s love for Liz. Tangible and alive in his paintings. And Liz’s love for Michael, in the touches and she gave him. How was it Max had made through his life this far with blinders on? “It hasn’t once cross your mind since you came here, that I might really love Michael? Or that he might love me?” she asked.


“Michael is incapable of that kind of love, Liz!” Max bellowed, more angry that she was right.

Liz’s eyes widened in shock and she brought her hand up smacking him squarely across the cheek, the sting immediate and jarring. All of her anger, rage was concentrated in that act of violence and while she felt guilty for lashing out, Max’s insistence that Michael’s heart was something small was a cold slap to her own face.

“Michael has <i>always</I> been capable of that kind of love, Max.” Liz seethed, though her voice barely remained above a whisper, “Why is it that you are the only one allowed to love deeply? Just because he didn’t do everything the way you did, with midnight mariachis, white roses, and drunken graffiti, doesn’t mean he wasn’t capable. It just isn’t his style. It never has been.”

Max rubbed his cheek the sting of her cold glare, far more painful than the red mark on his face, “You don’t mean Maria...They didn’t work out.”

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other, Max. They were each other’s first loves, not the final, but the first. They took separate paths, but don’t for a minute think that their love was any less special than what you and I once had.” Liz said willing herself to calm down, for her own sake. “She was the first person he ever really let see him, Max. That’s got to count for something in your eyes.”

“Michael doesn’t let people in, Liz. Not completely. He never has and he never will. Its what drove Maria away.” Max argued.

“Have you gone completely deaf, dumb, and blind all these years Max?” Liz asked genuinely, “You’ve just been standing still all these years, even before we left Roswell, while the rest of us have grown and let go of old hurts. You still see Michael as that damaged teenage boy who trusted no one, when he stopped being that <i>boy</I> a long time ago. Maria’s love showed him that he could get hurt and still survive. That there were people out there worth trusting, worth letting in. I don’t fear Michael’s loving Maria, I embrace it. She opened his heart and helped me get inside.”

Liz approached Max, trying to find the perfect tone or words to get him to understand or hear her words, “Lexi. Yes, she’s a darling little angel, but if Michael was still that mistrusting soul he used to be, even she would have had a hard time breaking through his walls. And my God, look at how Michael is with Sweet. When have you ever known Michael to trust older men after what Hank did to him? Yet he loves that sweet old man like...”

A father.” Max conceded, “ I know. But that’s different, Liz. That’s family.”

“I’m his family too.” Liz countered confidently.

Max nodded, “Of course you are. We became a family unit after graduation...After you and I got married. We had to with all that time spent in such close quarters.” He was willing to agree that they rag tag little group had become something of a family in those strange days, but he was far from willing to admit that the dynamics of that family had changed so drastically.

“And yet that family has fallen apart, Max. One by one, they’ve all left you.” Liz pointed out. “First Maria. Then Michael. Me...”

“I still have Isabel...and Lexi.” Max said almost desperately.

“And Kyle just sorta has to stay because of Lexi and Isabel.” Liz said with biting sarcasm, but quickly returned to calm, knowing petty off hand remarks wouldn’t get them anywhere, “We didn’t fit the mold of what you wanted and you drove us away.”

Max shook his head emphatically, “No you don’t Liz! You don’t get to heap all the responsibility of our marriage falling apart on me! It takes two to succeed... or fail!”

“So you admit our marriage was less than ideal!” Liz caught him, “And I know I failed Max. I own that. The difference is I knew when to let go of something that died!”

“I never said our marriage was perfect!” Max bellowed, “I knew we had our problems, but we used to talk about things, Liz! You used to come to me if something was bothering you. Instead you went to Michael!”

Liz’s eyes widened. He knew about her’s and Michael’s rooftop chats after Maria had left? Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty about those innocent nights spent talking to Michael about everything and nothing. They were the nuggets of happiness she’d managed to find few of after Michael left. It had been the seeds of what would later become love between them, though neither of them knew it at the time.

“Michael listened to me, Max. He heard me when you stopped.” Liz told him refusing to let him make more out of those chats than what they were. “He was being my friend. Nothing more. Don’t cheapen it. Please.”

“You’re not making any sense, Liz.” Max grasped, “I was...am, your husband. You’re supposed to come to me with the troubles weighing on your heart...”

“You were the trouble on my heart, Max.” Liz said raising her voice, “You promised me that even though we were on the run, you were going to make my dreams come true. And yet you have no idea what those dreams were...are. You stopped asking me what they were. I didn’t stop talking... I just stopped telling you what you wanted to hear.”

“What I wanted to hear?” Max asked bewildered.

Liz sighed heavily, “You wanted me to tell you I was happy moving from town to town, working in seedy bars to make ends meet. You wanted me to be delirious despite the fact that I didn’t count the time in months, but the semesters I was missing. You wanted me to be happy with every new promotion you got, when I could barely find stimulation in any of the work I did, because it wasn’t what I knew I could be doing. You wanted me to tell you that your dreams for us was enough, when they weren’t and it killed me, Max.

“Didn’t you see how dead I was before I left. I told you that night after Lexi’s party and yet your answer to all our problems was a baby. A baby?”

“I said marriage counseling... then a baby.” Max corrected, “But you didn’t even try Liz. You just left. You gave up.”

“Yeah Max, I did give up. But by the time you even suggested marriage counseling... we were long over. If I really thought it would have done any good Max I would have gone, but by the time I left I was in danger of losing you as my friend... of hating you for something I gave up to be with you and I couldn’t do that. I can’t hate you, Max.”

“But you are. Being with Michael... It’s the most hateful thing you can do to me. Don’t you see that? You left me to find him, knowing that being with him would cut me so deep... How is that not hateful?” Max begged her to see his pain, and what her relationship with Michael was doing to him.

Liz shook her head, “I’m not in love with Michael to spite you.” Liz insisted, “And I didn’t go looking for Michael, though you’ll never believe that. I left you to find me. To see who I wanted to be without you or your dreams for us. I really didn’t know if my path would lead back to you or further away, but I had to find out.” She glanced toward the studio door, smiling as she heard Lexi’s high pitched giggle mixed with Michael’s low chuckle, “I was on the road for a year before stumbled onto Michael. I wasn’t planning it, but thank God I did. Seems he was part of the journey to me.”

“Why?’ Max scoffed, unable to hide the excruciating pain in his heart at Liz effectively pushing him out and replacing him with Michael. He knew his next words would be bitter, and he wasn’t inclined to disguise it, “Because he’s got the money to pay for your dreams?”

Liz clenched her fist in an effort not to strike Max again, making her relationship with Michael seem to be nothing more than a monetary arrangement. A means to an end. “Because he knows what my dreams are and loves me enough to let me pursue them.” she answered through her teeth. “I’m not his whore, Max. And even if that is what you believe the extent of my relationship is with Michael, why the hell would you want me back?”

Max flinched at her word choice. Is that what he’d really called her with his acidic accusation, “I didn’t mean that, Liz. I would never... I just miss you. I don’t want to give up what we had, could still have. You used to be a fighter. Why can’t you fight for us?”

“I still am a fighter, Max. I just can’t fight for something that isn’t there, at least for me, anymore. And I can’t pretend to fight and give you false hope. Its not fair to you or me.” Liz answered gently.
“Not to mention the fact that you’ve already moved on. Its easy for you to cut ties and walk away, isn’t it?” Max spat.

Liz sat in silence for a moment, mourning the man before her. So broken and shattered by the very act she’d considered her freedom and what he considered as her abandonment of him. They were one in the same, she couldn’t have had one without the other.

Liz let a tear slip down her cheek, “I’ve done a lot of difficult things in my lifetime, Max. But there are two that top my list. Leaving you... and letting Michael into my heart. And I couldn’t have let the second one happen if I didn’t do the first.” She wiped away the tear only to have it replaced by another, “I wanted to be so many things for you, but I lost myself trying to be those things. I’ve given up so many things in my life to be with you and I was in danger of resenting you for that. I couldn’t let that happen. You may not be my husband anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a part of my life.”

Max caught the sob the threatened to tumble over his lips, “I don’t know how to be anything else to you, Liz.” he placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling her stiffen, but not pull away, “I’ll do whatever takes to be that to you. I see what you want now and I can try harder to give that to you, if you’d just give me a chance.”

Liz brought her hands up to remove Max’s from her shoulders and bit her lip, “You aren’t what I want, Max.” she said watching the pain consume his face, “Not that way. Not anymore.”

“Don’t tell me its too late, Liz. Please. I’ll do anything.” he ran a hand through his hair mussing it, “I shouldn’t have pressured you into having kids. You don’t want them... I see that now. And if it means you come home, I’ll give up that dream. As long as we have each other...”

“Max... I never said I didn’t want...” Liz said growing exasperated. It was just as she’d feared. He was so set in his belief of what had gone wrong and that their marriage could be fixed, that he refused to see the ashes of it at his feet.. “I am begging you, Max... please hear me. I am home. My home is with Michael now. I love him. I love our life, but I need you to let me go.”

“You’re asking too much from me, Liz...” Max said weakly. “Everything I am is devoted to you. If I give you up...I already gave up my son... please... I’ll have nothing left.”

“Then there’s nothing left to talk about.” Liz said mournfully. She’d tried, but Max still refused to see the truth, or at the very least refused to acknowledge it for the pain it must bring him, “You aren’t going to sign those papers are you?”

Max shook his head numbly, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I know there’s something in you that still loves me...”

Liz felt the suffocation in the room that had made her leave him over a year earlier. She was struggling to breath inside and with nothing left to say to him, needed air, feeling the need to retreat. She turned to the kitchen’s bar and grabbed her purse off the counter heading for the door. Maybe she could catch up with Isabel, Kyle, Sweet and Miriam. Michael and Lexi would be okay without her for a few hours. Michael would understand and she took so much comfort in that faith.

“Walking away again?” Max asked.

“I don’t know what else to do when it comes to you, Max.” she answered him placing her hand on the door. She turned back to him, her lips drawn in a tight line across her teeth, “I don’t need your permission to be with Michael. You don’t have to like it, but its what’s happened. I don’t need you to sign those divorce papers to be with him. I need you to sign them to give yourself some closure. The world goes on whether you want it to or not..”

She opened the door taking one step outside, before stepping back in for a moment, her dark brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears, “I have to stop being your world, Max.”

Max opened his mouth to respond finding no words to counter Liz’s and watched her disappear out the door, once again stepping out of his life with what he saw as gentle ease.

Few minutes later, having heard the front door close, Michael emerged from the studio with a technicolor Lexi in tow. He saw Max leaning over the dining room table his head hung in agony. The smile on Lexi’s face disappeared as she felt her Uncle Max’s choking sadness and she reached out gripping Michael’s leg for comfort. She’d seen her Uncle Max sad before, but never so much so that it made her want to cry.

Michael ran an absent hand through Lexi’s hair in an unconscious effort to soothe the child. He cleared his throat getting Max’s attention without startling the shattered man.

“Where’s Auntie?” Lexi asked softly, watching Max wipe the tears off his face roughly.

“Um... out... I uh...we...” Max stammered.

“She probably just wanted to catch up with your mom and dad.” Michael covered. “Sweet’s tours are legendary.” Michael knew Liz was upset, a conversation with Max of this magnitude was bound to be emotionally draining and that she needed to get away. Take the stifling tension out of the house. They’d talk later, like they always did. His heart broke a bit for his brother with the knowledge that he, Michael, could let Liz go and know she’d come back home to him whereas Max no longer had that luxury.

“Okay.” Lexi nodded, believing wholly in Grumpy’s explanation.

Michael watched Max, shuffle from foot to foot, seemingly restless and confined. His head snapped away quickly from the <i>Dangerous</I> painting a new dam of tears building in his eyes.

Max was going to snap if he didn’t get out of what had become something of a shrine of the love that Michael and Liz had built. The bottom was approaching hard and fast for Max. Sometimes Michael hated to be right.

“Hey Lex.” Michael said kneeling down to chat with his niece, “How would you like to go to the park with me and your Uncle Max? Jungle gym, monkey bars, swings... all in December.”

Lexi smiled brightly, nodding almost violently, but then looked down at her painted skin and stained jeans, “But Mommy have fit if I go like dis.”

Michael smiled, “Well Auntie would kill me if I went out looking like this. So, we’ll get cleaned up and go, okay?”

Michael looked over at Max, who almost seemed to breath a sigh of relief and watched him nod along with his idea. Michael was unsure if or what there was left to say to one another, but whatever it was had to be now and they needed to distract Lexi in the process.

~*~

Forty-five minutes later Michael and Max were seated on the park bench at the edge of the play ground, watching Lexi climb through tunnels and whisk herself down slides, squealing with glee at the rush. The walk to the park had been silent, with Lexi latching herself onto both men’s hands, howling excitedly when they’d swing her in the air.

“I’m not going to apologize for being with Liz.” Michael finally said, staring straight ahead at Lexi, waving to her and smiling as she ran across the miniature wooden bridge.

“I don’t expect you to.” Max conceded, a bit to Michael’s surprise, and then let out a small chuckle, “Truth is I’m not even mad at you. I mean, at first I was, but now... I can’t blame you for loving her. Now you see why I did.”

Michael sighed, “No. I don’t, Max. You loved a different Liz. I love this one. They are different people. The Liz who married you... we never would have worked. I never gave her a second thought.”

“But you did.” Max argued lightly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be with her now.”

Michael ran a hand through his hair, trying to find words. It was so much easier when he could paint how he felt. Michael was far more intelligent than most people gave him credit, but even he admitted words tended to abandon him.

“The woman who walked into my... our bar in July... That wasn’t the girl I left behind. I admit, that part of me felt something for her all those years ago. I think it was part of the reason I left. I couldn’t watch someone with her potential for... I couldn’t watch her waste away trying to please you because of the vows you took, when it was clear she’d already begun to lose faith in them.”

“And who was it that walked into your bar in July?” Max asked genuinely curious, “She seems like the same woman to me.”

“To be fair Max, you haven’t really been around Liz that much since you got here.” Michael pointed out.

Max shook his head, “She won’t let me get near her. How can I if she won’t let me be...”

“That’s because you want to be close to her like you were, Max. Like her husband. And if that’s the case, she’s not the only one with a problem with it.” Michael answered plainly, his voice even, but full of warning.

“Playing the jealous boyfriend now?” Max quipped.

“Protective.” Michael corrected curtly, “Jealousy might suggest I’m worried that you might actually get her back.”

“Why aren’t you?” Max asked, a bit taken aback by Michael’s unwavering confidence in his relationship with Liz.

“Because of the woman who found Ulysses.” Michael stated simply. Seeing the confusion etched on Max’s face he sat forward on his elbows to explain, “You want to know why Liz is so different from when she left you? Here? Now? She’s happy. I left five years ago, Max and even then she was unhappy, but when she walked into the bar...Damn...she smiled. When is the last time you saw her do that with you before she left?”

Max looked away, unable to answer Michael, because he couldn’t remember himself. All he knew was that the first time he saw Liz smile in their time apart, that smile was aimed at Michael. “At least that much about her hasn’t changed.”

“Finally something I can agree with you on.” Michael nodded with smirk and then watched Lexi help dust off another toddler who’d fallen in the gravel. “She gave up a lot to be with you, Man... and to be honest I just don’t think you made it worth it. Maybe she expected too much from you too... I don’t really know.

“I just know that in once she got shot, her life was not her own anymore. She started living for everyone else. Making sure we all stayed safe and happy. But once things settled down...after we ran. I think reality hit Liz and she regretted some of the sacrifices she made for you. Whatever she did in that year between leaving you and stumbling across me, she found herself. She lives for herself.”

“And you.” Max added.

“No she doesn’t Max.” Michael countered quickly, “ I’m a part of her life. A big part. But I’m not her world. I don’t need to be. That’s the difference between you and I, Maxwell, and ultimately its one of the reasons, she’ll stay with me.”

“Enlighten me.” Max waved him on.

“You need her too much. I just want her.”Michael stated, “It’d kill me if Liz left me. Believe me I understand what you must be feeling, but the difference between you and I is that I know I would go on living when the sun came up the next day. And while I’d miss the hell out of her, I’d continue to live. I want Liz in my life, but I can’t and won’t demand that she be. That’s too much dependance on one soul, Max. Even on one as strong as Liz’s. Simply put. I love her enough to give Liz her space, let go if I had to. Can you say that?”

Max clenched his jaw, Michael’s words seemingly echoing Liz’s only a few hours earlier. It seemed Michael truly did know this woman’s heart, for she was now a mystery to Max. An enigma, one he wasn’t sure he should be searching for anymore. One he was not meant to know on an intimate level, for she was Michael’s.

“She really wants me to sign those papers.” Max stated, beginning something of a fishing expedition.

“Yeah she does.” Michael answered. Even after five years he could still read his brother like a book. He knew what Max was getting at. “But whether you do or not it won’t affect my relationship with her.”

“You mean you don’t want to marry her?” Max asked, confused.

Michael smiled, chuckling softly, “I’d marry Liz tomorrow if that’s what she wanted. She knows that, but we’re happy with the way things are right now. We don’t need a piece of paper to tell us how we feel or what we mean to each other. She’s my family.”

“Seems that family has grown a lot since you left.” Max said, biting back his tears. Holding onto that marriage license was nearly his last physical vestige of his love with Liz and to she and Michael, it wasn’t obstacle enough to part. “Sweet. Miriam...”

“Yeah, now Liz.” Michael pointed out, realizing how right it all sounded. He had a family. Small, but full of love.

They both sat in companionable silence, having said what needed to be. Michael felt for the first time in a long time, Max was really listening to him or he was at the very least doing a fair impression of it. The two men sat on the bench and watched their niece charm every child on the playground gathering them all together for game, even the bigger kids seemed enamored by the tiny girl.

Both Max and Michael felt a hand clamp down on their shoulders and they both stood bolt upright to face the person, Michael cursing himself slightly for letting anyone sneak up on him. They were met with a panting Kyle, losing more breath from the laughter consuming his lungs.
“Dammit Kyle!” Max growled, “D-don’t sneak up on us like that.”

“You know just because you are the actual size of mouse doesn’t mean you have to creep around like one.” Michael added, trying to seem serious, but like Lexi, Kyle’s laughter was contagious. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on tour with Pop, Mir and oh yeah... you’re wife?”

“Would be.” Kyle answered catching his breath, “Should be. But said wife ordered me to find you three when Liz caught up to us at the bakery. Now, while I have complete faith in your ability to care for my daughter and hammer out the mountain of issues that you have, both being in love with Liz and all. But your sister doesn’t quite hold the same belief.”

Michael and Max shared a look between each other, rolling their eyes at Isabel’s paranoia, “So,” Kyle continued, “... under threat of cut off carnal activity, I raced my fine ass back to the bar, saw your note and came here. And now that I see that you are not only bruise, but blood free... and my child is up to her Playground Nazi antics... I’m going to sit down before I pass out.”

As Kyle slumped down on the bench Michael started laughing, “You know, a simple, ‘I’m my wife’s whipping boy.’ would have sufficed, Frodo.”

Kyle glared up at his burly friend, “You know if you weren’t dead right, I’d kick your ass, Bigfoot.”

Lexi, having spotted her father when he slumped onto the bench quickly forgot her playground companions and made a mad dash for her favorite man, hopping up on his lap, “What doing, Daddy? Where Mommy?”

“Mommy is with Auntie, Sweet and Miriam. I am here to make sure you’re uncles take care of you.” Kyle explained to his little angel.

“We good.” Lexi said smiling up at her uncles, “Cept...”

“Except what Lexi?” Kyle asked, watching her brow furrow in thought.

“Cept dey whisper lot. Are dey fightin’?” she asked her dad.

Michael shook his head at her and smiled, “We aren’t fighting Lex. We just have grown-up stuff to talk about. That’s all. And contrary to your belief, you do not need to know everything.”

“Den why Unca Max so sad?” Lexi asked looking up at her dark haired uncle.

Kyle knew his daughter needed a simple answer and while Michael’s earlier words were true, they would only add to Lexi’s burgeoning curiosity. He tipped his daughter’s face towards him holding her innocent eyes with his warm ones.

“See, Little Miss, Uncle Max and Uncle Grumpy are sorta in a contest.” he put it in the simplest of terms.

Lexi nodded her understanding, “See who Auntie Liz wuv best.”

Kyle looked between the two alien men in front of him and then back at his daughter, “Um, yeah kiddo, that’s pretty much it.”

Lexi paused in thought, mulling over the information her father had bestowed upon her, “Well dat’s easy, Daddy. Auntie loves Grumpy best.”

Kyle chuckled, but saw Max hang his head at the notion that even a small child could see the love Liz had for Michael, “You sound pretty sure about that, Sprite.”

“Uh huh.” Lexi stated a big grin coming over her face as she looked up at Michael, “Auntie’s baby loves Grumpy best too.”

~*~

TBC...

[ladygloria]

I finally finished rereading this up to what you've got posted here and I have to once again leave you glowing praise for this story. It is absolutely my favorite of what you've written so far. Sweet, Miriam, and Lexi fit so well into the already established family that it seems as if they were always there. You did an incredible job creating personalities we'd believe in so heartedly and actually have images for in our minds. Amazing!

What I love more is the fact that everyone here has grown as characters, well, except for Max. I know he's still got to hit bottom before he can truly let Liz go, but I do believe the little cliffie you just left us with, with the baby, is the perfect icing on his cake of finality. How can he not see through this relevation that he's lost her for good?

I know I've read this story hundreds of times, but every time I read it I am simply lost in this world you've created for our favorite characters. I love the polar relationship, how it truly feels like more of a want than a need and how real and secure they are in each other. I love that they are finally not hiding their love or their presence from anyone and that they can finally spend time with their loved ones.

And Lexi...Lord, I want to eat her up!

Come back with more soon!
Lisa