Summary: Maria and Michael come to a decision about their relationship. Living with the consequences, however, is an entirely different matter ...
Author's Note: The inspiration for this story was Garbage's magnificent release, Version 2.0, which is full of songs about different kinds of passion -- lust, longing, betrayal, anger and denial. All snippets of lyrics, as well as the title, are taken directly from this album.
Rating: somewhere in between PG and R
"Mom?" Maria flicked on the kitchen light. "Mom?"
A note on the kitchen table caught her eye. Gone out with Jim for dinner. Coming back here for cocktails later. Don't wait up!
"Great," she muttered. Maria saw her mother less and less these days because of "Jim." Not that she was complaining -- quite the contrary. It was nice having the whole house to herself. It's just that when she thought of her mother talking and laughing and flirting with Sheriff Valenti ... Kissing Sheriff Valenti ... The thought repulsed her, and a shiver shot up her spine. She wondered if Kyle had ever had similar thoughts about his father's sex life.
Still, she didn't care if her mother and Jim did the horizontal mambo all night long, if it meant a little peace and quiet. Amy DeLuca was going through a Gregorian chanting phase, and Maria was rapidly growing tired of the image of her mother in yogic poses in their living room, repeating her mantra ad nauseum.
Maria slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Her body was stiff and sore from work as she kicked off her running shoes, inadvertantly flinging them across the room in the process. She tried in vain to massage her shoulder with one hand, but the way she contorted her arm only served to make her muscles ache even more.
It was time for a de-stress evening, she decided. She walked to the bathroom and began to fill the bathtub with hot water, then rummaged around in the cupboard under the sink for her essential oils and bath gels. A drop of lavender ... a splash of rosehip ... a capful of orange blossom ... she carefully measured and dribbled the liquids under the running water, feeling like a scientist playing with an aromatic chemistry set. Maria smiled. Liz would be proud of her precision.
Back in her bedroom, Maria inserted a mixed CD of her favourite mellow songs into her stereo. Alex had discovered the joys of burning CDs a couple of months ago, and Maria was only too happy to let him play guinea pig with her collection. She now had mixed theme CDs for every occasion and emotion -- one for when she was PMS-ing, one for when she was fighting with her mother, one which reminded her of Michael ...
Stop, she told herself sternly. This is supposed to be an anti-stress evening. No more thinking about Michael. But of course, not thinking about Michael was almost as hard as trying to stop the tides or extinguish the stars in the sky.
Maria raised the volume on the stereo a little bit and returned to the bathroom with a few tealight candles and an old book of matches, leaving the door ajar so she could hear the music better. She struck a match and lit the tiny wicks, strategically placing them around the tub as she snapped off the bathroom light. Quickly, she undressed, throwing her spaghetti-stained uniform into the laundry hamper. She tossed her aqua bra on the countertop, because she had to drain the water out before she could wash it.
Naked, she slowly sank down into the hot bubbles. The frothy, foamy water gave off thin jets of steam. She could feel her muscles unknot as the water penetrated her skin like molten lava. Maria exhaled deeply and leaned back against the bathtub, her eyes closed. Perfect. This was exactly what she needed. She felt her tension melting away as she lay there motionless for a few minutes, emptying her mind of all the random thoughts which seemed to perpetually clog it.
The flower-tinged scent of the bathwater filled the air, and she breathed in deeply. Much better. Maria decided to lay there until the water began to cool. Eventually, she would get out, maybe give herself a manicure or write in her diary a little bit. She contemplated calling Liz, but then remembered Liz and Max were out on another of their 'non-dates.'
Maria sort of half-smiled, half-frowned at the thought. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for her best friend -- of course she was -- but she just couldn't understand how Max had finally given up and given in to a relationship with Liz, and yet Michael still insisted on that whole "stone wall" nonsense. Even ice queen Isabel had caved a little and gone out to the movies with Alex a few times. But Michael? Nothing. In fact, the closer Liz and Max got, the more agitated Michael grew, and the further he pushed Maria away.
For a moment, the absurd thought crossed Maria's mind that perhaps Michael had developed a crush on Liz, but as soon as it entered her thoughts, she swatted it away. Michael's obsession wasn't with Liz -- it was with getting home, and Maria knew he felt Liz was distracting Max from seeking out the truth and a way off this planet. Still, she didn't think it was fair how Max was willing to at least try being in a relationship with Liz. He was proving it was possible to do both -- to have a girlfriend while looking for clues from the past. And as for the consequences, well, he'd deal with them when the time came. But no, not Michael. There were no grey areas in Michael Guerin's world, only black and white.
You're doing it again, she chided herself. Don't. Don't do it. Just let your mind go blank. Sighing, Maria ran a hand through her hair, and tried to let her thoughts tune out again. She breathed in deeply again, then breathed out slowly through her mouth. The water was cooling a little, but it was still warm enough to make her feel sleepy and secure. Maria imagined this must have been what it felt like to be inside her mother's womb. She felt like she could have fallen asleep right there and then.
A muffled thud from outside the bathroom mildly caught her attention. Probably the cat, she thought. "Sassy ...? C'mere, come see me," Maria called into the darkness. Sassafraz had been a gift from her mother the day after her father walked out, when Maria was four. Over the past 12 years, Maria and Sassy had become inseparable. Sassy even slept with her little face on the pillow on the other side of Maria's bed every night.
"Sassy?" Maria called again, glancing at the bathroom door. The cat didn't show, but she heard another noise, this time, the sound of her bedsprings squeaking. It was very faint against the louder backdrop of the stereo. She must be lying on my bed, she thought, then called out to her a little louder. "Sass?"
This time, she was rewarded for her efforts, and the fat Calico cat came trotting through the bathroom door,pushing it open a crack further in the process. "There you are, girl!" Maria smiled at her. "Ohhh, who's a pretty girl, hmm? Come see me." Sassy obediantly trotted over to Maria, rubbing her head against Maria's wet hand, which was draped over the side of the tub.
"There's my baby," Maria cooed. "Yes, there's my precious, hmm? Her baby- talk was cut off by a crashing noise in her bedroom. Maria froze. "Who's there?" There was no answer, except for the sound of glass bottles clinking together, as if they were being stacked together after having been knocked over. My perfume, Maria thought. She could feel her heart thumping inside her chest, and prayed whatever it was that was out there couldn't hear the panic creeping into her voice. "I said, who's there?" she demanded.
Maria heard the sound of quiet footsteps coming from her room, getting closer and closer, louder and louder. Her stomach bungee-jumped down to her ankles, leaving a fluttery, adrenaline-packed giddiness in its wake. "Hello?" she called, her voice thready and thin. She watched as a shadow spilled across the bathroom floor from the hall doorway. Oh my God, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
The hinge on the bathroom door squeaked as it opened. Whomever it was, was inside the bathroom with her now, standing a few feet away in the candlelit shadows. Maria swallowed, a dry lump caught in her throat, too frightened to open her eyes, but too terrified to keep them closed any longer. Summoning every molecule of courage she possessed, she forced herself to pry her eyes open and confront her invader.
She screamed, and in that instant, her eyes went from practically sealed-shut slits to a pair of wide saucers. "Michael!?"
Involuntarily, Maria began to sit more upright in the tub, her spine stiffening with shock. A second later she remembered exactly where she was, and plunged back down into the water before he had a chance to see anything he shouldn't have. She was grateful for the dimness of the candlelight, as the thin foam of the bathwater did little to shield her body from Michael's view.
"What ... what the hell are you doing here?"
He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, he stared at her silently, completely caught off-guard by the sight before him.
"Michael?" She gave him a hard stare. "Michael!"
"I ..." He swallowed, not knowing what to say. When he had set out for her house a little while ago, he had planned out a very concrete itinerary to discuss with her. He was prepared, organized, single-minded. He had thought it all out in his head, rehearsed exactly what he was going to say ... and then this little scenario had greeted him, and now Michael couldn't remember his own name, let alone the purpose of his visit.
In the silence, Maria listened to the sound of the bubbles evaporating and dissipating. Her cheeks were hot with anger and embarrassment. For a moment she toyed with the idea of drowning herself ... anything to escape that dumbfounded gaze.
"I ... wanted ... to talk ... to you," Michael managed to mutter. Wildly, he combed the room for something else to focus on. His eyes rested for a second on the aqua-bra stretched out on the countertop, but as soon as he recognized what the garment actually was, he quickly transferred his concentration to the garbage can in the corner of the room. "I wanted to talk to you," he swallowed nervously.
"Hello?" Maria snapped. "Haven't you ever heard of a phone? Or do you always break into peoples' houses and pay them a surprise visit in the bath when you feel the urge to chat?"
"I ... this is important," Michael whispered hoarsely.
Even with the shadowy lighting, Maria could see his face flush a deep pink. Obviously, he hadn't meant to find her like this, she reasoned with herself. He was probably just as mortified as she was. She almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him, but her brain overrode it. Regardless of embarrassment, Michael had illegally entered her home, and had certainly invaded her privacy. Still, the look of acute discomfiture on his face was more than enough punishment, she decided.
Oddly enough, she didn't feel as self-conscious as she expected to. A bit nervous, perhaps. Maybe a little awkward, sure. But after Michael had appeared at her bedroom window a few weeks ago, cold and wet, crying and broken, after he had stripped himself down emotionally before her and let her see his into his bare soul ... it was far more intimate in Maria's eyes than lying before him physically naked but for the foamy water.
"What is it."
"Not, uh ... not ... here," Michael muttered, staring at the floor. More than anything in the world at that moment, he wanted to bolt from the room and never set eyes on Maria DeLuca again. Still, it wouldn't matter even if he did -- the image of her lying in the sudsy bath surrounded by candles would be burned into his retinas forever.
"Fine," Maria exhaled. "Go wait in my room and I'll be in in a minute."
Mutely, Michael nodded. He quickly turned and left, the door softly clicking shut behind him. Maria slowly climbed out of the bath, the cold air puckering her flesh into goosebumps as it made contact with her skin. Great, she thought. All my clothes are in my bedroom, and my uniform is covered in Ragu sauce. Wonderful She looked in the cupboard for the largest towel she could find, and wrapped the fuzzy peach sheet around her underarms.
Gently, Maria blew out the ring of candles around the bath. She ran a hand through her damp, tousled hair and pulled out the stopper from the tub. The gurgling sound of the water emptying down the drain seemed to have a calming effect on her, quieting the frenetic heartbeat in her chest.
Breathe, she told herself, sitting on the edge of the tub. Just breathe. Maria tried to stem the mixture of fear, anger, be wilderment and excitement swirling throughout her insides. The fear was residual, a byproduct as her body returned to normal after being in such a state of shock. But after the initial fright had faded, anger had taken its place, infuriation at him for just invading her house and her privacy like that. Mixed in with that was a curiosity and confusion over why he had come and what he wanted. Finally, buried deep beneath the other emotions, was a small but delicious thrill of anticipation. Of hope. Of electricity-charged energy at the promise of what potentially could happen. What would happen.
She knew why he was here. Though they hadn't really spoken since the afternoon her mother had rescued him from Valenti, Maria didn't mind. After the night they had shared together, she knew he would eventually come around, when he was ready. Nothing had happened between them physically when he had stayed with her, but the emotional bond which had been forged as she rocked him in her arms while he lay crying like a small boy was more intense than any outburst of passion could ever be. Maria knew it, and now it seemed Michael was ready to admit that he knew it too.
Maria stood on shaky legs and padded down the hall to her room. She took a deep breath before nudging the half-open door with her shoulder. The door hinge made a squeaking noise as she entered.
Across the room, Michael was intently studying her CD collection. "I didn't know you liked Metallica," he said softly, without looking up.
She shrugged. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me."
He replaced the CD in his hand on the shelf and turned to face her. Michael's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, clad in only a towel, the pale skin of her shoulders and collarbone glistening with droplets of water. She looked defiant and defensive and vulernable and beautiful all at the same time. His lips parted slightly as he continued to stare at her, transfixed.
Maria folded her arms across her chest and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She didn't quite know what to do with the expression on his face, how to read it or how to respond. Anxiously, she glanced around her room, her eyes settling on everything and nothing. "So. Um ... what ... what is this about ... exactly?"
Her voice seemed to break Michael's spell. He blinked and sat down on her bed, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to figure out where to begin. Maria had a small stuffed bear on the table beside her bed, and he picked it up, absently examining it as he processed the wildly conflicting thoughts which were ricocheting inside his mind.
"I, um ... I need to .. to talk to you about this whole ... alien ... human ... relationship thing." In his head, the words were clear and coherent, but when he spoke, they came out as twisted babbling. Focus, he ordered himself.
Maria's heart exploded at his words. Wordlessly she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She watched him run a hand through his hair, remembering how silky it had felt like against her fingers during their many encounters in the eraser room. It was in sharp contrast to the hardness of his body, which was something else she could recall with crystal clarity. The strong arms which crushed her tightly in their embrace, the lean, lithe body pressed up firmly against hers, the taut shoulders and neck which she had smothered in a trail of hot, deep kisses ... Despite the claminess of her newly-bathed skin, Maria felt a fiery blush ignite her flesh.
The song from the stereo filled the silence which surrounded them. You look so fine ... I want to ... break your heart and give you mine ... You're taking me over ... It's so insane ... You've got me tethered and chained ... I hear your name ... And I'm falling over ...
From her bed, he allowed himself to look up at her again, his eyes locking with hers. Michael could project his abrasive, cynical attitude all he wanted, he could insist on being a loner and putting up his stone walls, but his eyes betrayed him, Maria thought. His soft, grey, beautiful eyes. The eyes from which tears fell freely that night in her room. They spoke volumes about the real Michael Guerin, the one who was scared and suffering, full of fear and pain and loneliness. The deeply wounded, vulnerable guy Maria had glimpsed on their trip to Marathon. The guy Maria had begun to fall in love with.
... I'm not like all the other girls ... I can't take it like the other girls ... I won't share it like the other girls ... That you used to know ... You look so fine ...
Michael felt an aching from somewhere deep down inside him as he watched her, somewhere he had thought was long lost and dead. Despite his insistances and denials and the excuses he hid behind, Maria had sparked a tiny flame within him. A fierce, tiny flame which burned with such an intensity it filled his whole being and made him feel like he was actually alive, and not just merely existing. For the first time in his life, Michael felt whole. He felt connected to something. To someone. He had never wanted anything so badly.
You're taking me over ... Over and over ... I'm falling over ... Over and over ... You're taking me over ... Drown in me ... one more time ... Hide inside me tonight ... Do what you want to do ... Just pretend happy end ...
He had never wanted anything so badly. The words were deafening inside his head. But there was something else he had wanted, just as badly. Worse, even. It was why he was here, why he had come to her. The notion sobered him, reigning in his straying thoughts back to the matter at hand.
Michael felt light-headed. It suddenly dawned on him that he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a long moment. "The thing is ..." he began quietly, puncturing the almost palpable tension that hung between them, "I've been thinking about things a lot lately, and ..." His voice trailed off, and he bit down on his bottom lip.
Maria knew Michael had trouble properly articulating what really went on inside his head, so she decided to make things a little easier for him. Just a small sign of encouragment which would let him know it was okay to do what she knew they both wanted him to do. Mustering up courage she didn't even know she possessed, she slowly crossed the room and sat down next to him on the bed. Heat radiated out from his body, warming her chilled skin. Trembling, she self-consciously pulled the towel a little tighter around her body. She took a deep breath, waiting, praying he couldn't hear the loud echo of her heartbeat.
Let me know ... let it show ... ending with ... letting go ... ending with letting go ... ending with letting go ... Let's pretend ... happy end ...
Inwardly, he groaned. Why did she have to do that? How could he possibly say what he had to say with her sitting there, inches away, her body all soft peaks and valleys, covered by just a thin layer of towel. Michael swallowed, fighting the urge to look at her. Because if he looked at her, he'd have to touch her. And if he touched her, he'd have to kiss her. And if he kissed her ...
He shifted slightly on the bed and concentrated on the stuffed bear in his hands. "The thing is ... the way things are, this whole ... situation ... it has to change. It's just ... it's insane to let it continue the way it is now. You know it, and I know it and ... we can't keep pretending it doesn't matter."
Maria inched her face closer to his. Her voice was a husky whisper. "I know."
"We can't pretend it isn't important, or that it doesn't affect everything else," Michael continued. "Because it does. And we can't ignore that anymore."
"I don't want to ignore it," she said breathlessly.
"Neither do I." His eyes flickered up from the bear to her face. "And ... that's why I'm here."
Maria's heart caught in her throat. Her entire body tensed as she waited for him to say the words she wanted so desperately to hear.
"I need you ..." Michael looked down at the floor, clearly uncomfortable.
Her spine tingled with pins and needles. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him how much she needed him, too, but stopped short as he finished his sentence.
"... I need you to help me break up Max and Liz."
 
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