"A Reason to Stay"
1/1
by Court
Classification: M&M
Rating: PG-13
Summary: On his road trip Michael realizes another reason to stay. "Missing scene" from ID4
Spoilers: All up to ID4
Author's Note: Thanks to Courtney for her support and faith in me. It's been a long time coming now. Thanks to the always awesome Melissa for proofing! Hope you enjoy! :o)
Feedback: Dcreeker98@aol.com
Archive: M&M Files, and anyone else who I've said yes to before. If anyone else wants it, you must e-mail me your website first, please.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Jason, Melinda and crew do. I also like to think a part of them belongs to Majandra and Brendan.
"Have you ever needed someone so bad?
Have you ever wanted someone you just couldn't have?
Have you ever tried so hard, that your world just fell apart?
Have you ever needed someone so bad?"
--Def Leppard
"Trust me, there ain't nothing in that town," the trucker grumbles as he makes his way down the highway. Ironically, they're on Route 285 South. Michael relaxes back in his seat. Doesn't matter to him. Anywhere is better than Roswell, New Mexico.
He pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. He's tired of running. No matter where he goes, it'll all be the same. He'll be different. Still an outsider looking in. At least in Roswell he had some friends-the only sense of family he's ever known, really. But, he couldn't bear it another minute. The look of disapproval in Max and Isabel's eyes... the pity. The ferocious look in Amy DeLuca's eyes when she caught him in bed with Maria. It was obvious he wasn't accepted or approved of. Well, he didn't need it, nor did he want it. Roswell had gotten too claustrophobic. There was no choice but to leave.
The trucker's droning on about how much he hates his dead end job. Michael's glad he's able to shut him out. He's had years of experience shutting people out.
The package in his lap feels like a ton of bricks. He picks up the stones again and hears them clink against something else buried within. Moving Max's "Among US" book to the side, he discovers a bottle of tobasco sauce underneath. He smirks and holds the bottle in his hand.
Sweet and spicy.
All of a sudden, an image of Maria's pretty face pops into his head. The look she gave him when she was toweling him off so carefully and lovingly will forever be burned into his memory. No amount of running could help him escape her.
He doesn't deserve her. She opens her heart and offers her bed to him, and still he runs. She's too good. Too sweet and pure. He can't taint that. He won't let himself do it.
Frustrated, he glances out the window at the raindrops glistening on it. It reminds him of falling asleep in her arms. Her soft skin soothing his own damp skin, innocently comforting him with kisses trailing up and down his shoulder and neck. Not asking for anything in return, just content to care for him. The plink of raindrops outside and her warm embrace lulled him into the best night of sleep he's ever had.
"So, where are you going, boy?" the man asks as he slows the car at a gas station.
Suddenly, he has no answers so the question catches him off guard. Anywhere but here, doesn't sound so good anymore. He's thinking of Maria again. Isabel and Max knew he was taking off, but they'd always have that "connection" to keep them together. Maria had no idea that last night was the last time they'd be together. He can't bear the thought of her finding out second hand when he didn't show up at the Crashdown after school to trade steamy gazes and sarcastic barbs laced with sexual tension. Would she be at her window tonight, thinking about him?
Probably not, he chides himself. All he's caused her is grief. It was clearly written in her eyes (and on the label of her aromatherapy bottle next to her bed) when she first caught glimpse of him through the rain last night.
But, still... He owes her. No one has ever really touched him like she does. Like Michael Guerin is actually worth a damn. Max and Izzy...well, they have to put up with him. They were a family. Not Maria, though. That girl had just popped out of seemingly nowhere and pushed and babbled her sweet way under his skin and into his heart.
He looked at the man beside him. "Uh, just let me off at this gas station. I'll find my way."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged.
Michael gathered up his belongings, meager as they may be, and hopped out of the jeep. Looking around the station, he spotted a van marked with the emblem of a UFO. Rolling his eyes, he took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on his face, approaching the woman gassing up the van.
"Excuse me, miss? You seem to be going my way, so I was hoping maybe...," he trailed off hopefully, giving her a wide charming smile.
She eyed him warily, then adjusted her "The Truth Is Out There" cap and nodded.
"Thank you," he said, climbing into the van.
There'll be plenty of time to run.
***
"What the hell am I doing here again?" he asked himself in disbelief. After the woman dropped him off, he wanted to run after her and beg her to drive him far away from Roswell. In particular, far away from Maria DeLuca's house.
His feet were cold from the rain puddles soaking into his well worn boots. He didn't have a watch on, but knew that it was late. All lights were off except one. Quietly, he crept toward her lit bedroom window. Maybe he'd just look and that would be enough.
Who was he fooling? As if he'd ever get enough of that sharp-witted petite blond.
Finally, he made it to her window and peeked inside. She was cleaning. He watched as she arranged her aromatherapy bottles on her nightstand and then crossed her room to the other side of her bed... Her bed... Her soft sweet-smelling bed. Much better than the wooden mattress Hank had so kindly supplied for him. He would give anything for another night in Maria's bed, in her arms. She actually made him feel safe, and gave him hope. But, still he was running.
Slinging, what he assumed were dirty clothes, into her hamper, she paused at something. Fearing he'd been discovered, Michael edged away from the window. But, the curiosity got the better of him and he had to look. He was surprised to see her lying on her bed, clutching the towel she had used to dry him off with the night before.
Then, he saw the tears.
Oh fuck. Had he really caused her that much pain? He never wanted to hurt her. However, he had tried to warn her from the very start, but she wouldn't listen. His bastard foster father was right. He was good for nothing.
Feeling defeated, he turned away from the window. Why did it have to hurt so much to love someone?
"Michael," her unmistakable voice called to him over the downpour of rain.
He whirled around, startled. He searched her face for signs of anger.
"Come in," she smiled, offering her hand in assistance.
He opened his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly. He's getting soaked, and her room looks quite inviting. So does she.
Once inside, he tries to whisper quietly to her. She gives him a funny look, then shakes her head.
"Mom's not here. Thank god. So, you don't have to worry about getting beaten with anymore newspapers," she trailed off softly. Her voice had wavered on the word "beaten," and he knows she knows. This should make him want to run. It was exactly what he didn't want.
Sensing he doesn't know how to respond, she tries to fill the silence. "Is this going to become habit or something?" Maria grins nervously, challenging him as always.
The impulse to take her in his arms and seal his lips to hers, melding their bodies close together is very powerful. But, he can't bring himself to do it. Not after last night when she saw him at his most vulnerable. Things have changed. He can no longer just kiss her and then pretend to ignore her for the next couple of days.
Maria's moving toward him. His silence is nothing new, but it's oddly different tonight. She reaches for his hand, but he can't be touched and backs away. Her hopeful expression falls. She tries to hide it, but he can sense she's hurt. She stares at him expectantly. The urge to run is enormous, but her pools of green boring right into his soul prevent such action.
"I wish things could be different," he starts. God, he sounds like Max. He has no idea what to say, though. Somehow, "Goodbye," just doesn't suffice for what they have between them.
Nodding, she wants him to continue. It's his turn now. She's given him everything she can.
Shaking slightly from fear, not the cold, he starts again. "Maria, I'd like to be the guy you can count on... But, I'm just not, okay? I can't offer you anything."
She tilts her head to the side and he thinks she's going to cry. He can't help himself anymore where it comes to this girl. He has to go to her.
Cupping her face, he smoothes his thumbs across her cheek. "I'm not worth it. Please don't."
She reaches up, touching his hand with hers, and suddenly he's on fire. Thoughts of leaving this place and this moment are far from his mind.
"Michael, you are. You are worth it. You're a pain in the ass, buddy, but that's just who you are. And...," she locks his eyes into hers. "I need you."
And, suddenly it's all come down to this. Michael Guerin has never needed anyone. He's always been able to pack a suitcase on any given day and just leave.
But, not tonight. Not anymore. He needs her too much. He hates it, but he loves it. No one has ever needed him, and he isn't about to let her down like he's been all his life.
A lone tear traces down her face and he wipes it away gently, then pulls her face to his for a passionate kiss. She's not going to cry over him. He won't let her tonight. He kisses her long and good, memorizing the taste of her, so that if he ever felt the urge to run again, he'd remember what he was losing. She tastes sweet and spicy, of course.
Finally, he pulls back and gives her a glimpse of that well hidden smile. "I know."
A smile quirks at her lips. He will never be perfect, but it doesn't matter. There are no substitutions for Michael Guerin.
There don't have to be.
Next...
