Maria DeLuca. He scowled to himself as he headed to the cafeteria to meet Max for lunch. Not only did the girl get under his skin in the most unnerving of ways, but now she was responsible for screwing up his history grade, and all because he didn't care what her favourite flavour of ice-cream was, or who her favourite relative was, or who her heroes were, or if she'd ever been in love ... Michael exhaled in frustration. Okay, maybe he did care a little bit about her answer to that one. Just out of ... curiosity, he told himself.

He frowned, pushing the thought out of his mind. Since he had kissed Maria, it was like he had developed an acute case of multiple personality disorder. One minute, he was his usual self, calculated and determined, with an iron will and a dedicated focus on discovering the truth about himself and where he came from and getting the hell off this planet. But the next minute ... the next minute, he was this swirling mass of complicated, uncontrollable emotions and hormones and feelings. When he was in the eraser room or the Crashdown with Maria, he lost all sense of reason and logic and purpose. All that mattered was the feel of her hair and skin against his fingers, her lips against his. He couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe, couldn't even remember his own name when they were together. He was totally, utterly, out of control. And he liked it. Too much.

That was the problem. He couldn't afford to like it, or her. Not now. Not when he and Max and Isabel were so close to discovering the truth. That was why he had to break up with her. Twice, sort-of, if he thought about it seriously. The first time was at the rave at the old soap factory, after he realized he had gotten too physically intense with her. The second was just a few days ago, just a little bit down the same hall through which he was now walking, after he realized he had gotten too emotionally attached to her.

Playing hide-and-seek from her in person was one thing, but the hardest thing of all for Michael was to stop thinking about her. Just because he had officially severed the ties didn't mean there weren't messy loose ends to deal with. Granted, a large portion of his mind was devoted to devising new ways to contact Nasedo or interrogate River Dog for new information, but, he grudgingly admitted to himself, the remainder of his thoughts were focussed solely around her. Despite his best intentions, he couldn't get Maria out of his mind. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed ... the silkiness of her pale skin against his fingertips ... the warmth of her collarbone and throat where he'd kissed her ...

He sighed angrily, annoyed with himself. He had told her he had to let go, so why couldn't he just do it then? Whomever came up with the expression out of sight, out of mind had no idea what the hell he was talking about, Michael thought ruefully. Reaching the cafeteria, he spied Max sitting alone at a table in the distance. Michael pushed his way through the sea of people, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Hey," Max nodded, taking a swig from a can of Sprite.

"Hey," Michael replied, full of surliness.

Max raised his eyebrows. "Problem?"

Michael shook his head and collapsed into the seat opposite him. "Nothing more than the usual." He picked a few french fries off Max's plate and crammed them into his mouth. "School. Home. Nasedo. Women." Max nodded sympathetically and opened his mouth to commiserate with his friend, but Michael cut him off with a dark scowl before he could even speak. "And not in that order, either."

She was sure there was some sort of cosmic entity -- God, Fate, Destiny, whatever -- that was having a really good laugh at her expense right now, but she really wished whatever it was that was responsible for the current situation she found herself in would just show her some pity and stop it.

He had said he couldn't get involved with her, and yet every single time they had hooked up, Michael had instigated it. That night at the Crashdown, when they were waiting for Max and Liz to return from the reservation, he had spun her around and kissed her. To calm her down, he had said at the time. Then again, a week or so later when she was locking up, he had suddenly just appeared outside the diner late at night, walked in without so much as a word, and initiated a make-out session so scorching, she was amazed they hadn't left burn marks on the countertop. Granted, Maria hadn't argued, but she also hadn't made the first move, either. And all those trysts in the eraser room at school ... every single one had been at Michael's urging.

So what the hell was his problem? she thought angrily. Michael had repeatedly made it abundantly clear he didn't want anything further to do with her, and yet he kept coming back to her over and over, as if he were addicted to her lips or something. And then when he finally did grow some willpower and break it off with her for good, there she was again, in the darkest depths of his mind, kissing him as if their very existences depended on it.

He was confused? Maria scoffed, shaking her head slightly. He was a hypocrite, more like. She was the one who was confused. What she had seen in his mind -- what was it supposed to mean? It wasn't some sort of subconscious fantasy he had no control over, it was one of his conscious thoughts. She knew that, because she hadn't been inside his dreams, she had been inside his mind. It was too literal to be misinterpreted as anything except reality.

A part of her was thrilled to know he still wanted her, but an equal and opposite part of her was crushed to realize that he didn't really want her in the way she wanted him. Yes, the physical dimension of their relationship had been intense. But Maria knew that if Michael would let it, the emotional connection they could have would make any make-out session seem pale by comparison.

Then there was the whole question of how she had gotten inside Michael's mind to begin with. She thought back to what Isabel had said at the Crashdown the day before, how Isabel was able to merely think about a person, drift off to sleep, and then pay a visit to their subconsious and invade their dreams. Maria rationalized with herself in the mirror. That was fine for Isabel because Isabel wasn't human, she had the capability to dreamwalk. Maria ran a hand through her hair. She, on the other hand, was very much human, and as such, shouldn't be able to do what she had very much done. She closed her eyes a moment. Perhaps a better question to ponder was not the technical merits of how she had gotten inside of Michael's mind, but why she was able to in the first place.

The door opened and a gaggle of girls entered, interrupting her thoughts. Liz was among them. "There you are," she exclaimed with a smile, which soon faded when she saw Maria's face. "Hey ... are you okay?"

"Yeah," Maria replied through a yawn. "Just kinda tired."

"I can see that," Liz said. "Didn't get a good night's sleep, huh."

Maria shrugged. "How could I? I mean, God only knows what new and disturbing subliminal imagery could have popped up to haunt me if I closed my eyes, courtesy of alien boy's twisted little mind." A girl applying mascara standing next to Maria gave her an odd look in the mirror.

Liz looked at her pitiously. "It didn't happen again, did it?"

"No," Maria sighed. "Not again." She leaned against the wall and threw her head back. "God, Liz! What am I gonna do about this?"

"Maybe it was just a one-time thing?" Liz suggested. "Maybe it was like a fluke ... or something."

"It's the 'or something' which worries me," Maria replied ominiously.

"Maria," Liz chided, "You're going all Meryl Streep on me again. I'm sure the whole thing was just some sort of little glitch or something. Nothing to worry about, just one of those weird, quirky ... things." To Maria's ears, it sounded like Liz was dismissing the situation, as if she thought Maria had blown the entire thing out of proportion and was over-reacting, as usual. She wanted to scream. Liz just didn't get it.

"You'll be fine," Liz reassured her with a smile. In return, Maria gave her the biggest smile she could muster as they walked out the door together. She had never felt more un-fine in her life.