Disclaimer: *sniffle* If only it were mine. But alas, it's not. If you sue, all you'll get is the roll of toilet paper I've been hauling around, since we're out of kleenex and it's officially a sinus infection. Or you could have my eclectic collection of Fushigi Yuugi cds...

~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael sat at the small kitchen table, elbow-to-elbow with Amy DeLuca and Maria, facing Sheriff Valenti, and wondered how in hell he'd managed to wind up there. He knew it had something to do with his apartment being fumigated and the fact that even now, even several months afterward, he really couldn't stomach the thought of sleeping in the room next to Isabel's. Not after what had happened. And there was still that bit of uneasiness with Max...

But that still didn't explain how he came to sit across a small dinner table from the man who had been his worst enemy before he knew there were others in his almost girlfriend's kitchen. And his almost girlfriend's knee was pressed up against his in comfort, reminding him of everything they've almost never said, but still almost knew.

"So, how's your job going, Michael?" It was summer now, and the sheriff and Mr. Evans had found him a part-time job at an architecture firm during the mornings. He still flipped burgers at the Crashdown at night, and half the time, got a ride home from Maria in the Red Jetta that had almost become his. His almost jobs, his almost car, his almost girlfriend. And now, Amy DeLuca almost trusted him with all three.

"It's good, sir. Real good." And at least he didn't eat with his hands anymore. Maria practically beamed as he daintily wiped his mouth on his napkin. They both remembered the lesson in table manners she'd given him a few months back. He half-smiled at her, rubbing his foot against her leg.

Or what he thought was her leg.

"You'd better be reaching for the table leg, Michael," Amy said mildly, giving him that look that Maria had inherited from her mother in stronger force. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. And there was his beautiful pixie, trying to smother her laughter behind her napkin, her green eyes dancing. Only another twenty-four hours...

At least Amy let him stay. She'd given the fumigation notice one long look before pointing him to the couch the night before. And he'd actually stayed on the couch all night. What she didn't have to know was that Maria had stayed with him. He slept better when his cheesehead was near. A lot better.

"How's Kyle, Jim? Maria said that he'd gotten in an accident with his car. Is he okay?"

And as the adults lapsed into conversation, Michael continued to stare at Maria. It felt weird, to sit here with her and her mother and her mother's....whatever the sheriff was. Almost like they were a family. Almost as if he could see himself doing this in a few years, every night, sharing meals with the three people who, in their own way, had saved his life.

Dinner passed. Amy walked the sheriff out to the car, and came back five minutes later, lipstick smudged all over her face. Maria got a disgusted look on her face, and he couldn't help putting his arm around her to make her feel better. Maria's mom gave him an odd look, so he dropped his arm after giving Maria one last squeeze. Michael semi-glared back at Amy, but figured that he wouldn't push it. Mrs. DeLuca had let him stay, after all, even after catching him in Maria's bed about six months before.

As Maria got up to help with the dishes, her mom shooed her away. "Let Michael and I do it, hon. Let me get to know him a little." With that sentence, Michael could feel his heart dropping to his chest. "What? Why are you looking at me like that, Maria? It's not like I'm going to turn him over to the FBI or anything."

Michael could feel the blood in his veins turn to ice. And from the way Maria automatically spooned her body to his, in spite of the dishes he held in both his hands, he knew that there was still shellshock from the past two months. He could still her that tremor in her voice sometimes... I thought this was all over with...I just really want this to be over with...

"What? Did I say something wrong?" He watched Amy's green eyes bounce from Maria to him and back again.

"Nothing, Mom. I'm gonna go over to Liz's then. She wanted to talk about some decorating ideas for this weekend, since there's another dork convention in town." Maria's brain chattered at a mile a minute, as always, but Michael had finally realized that her flapping tongue was what she hid behind when she was scared or nervous. When she'd composed herself, Maria moved away from him and kissed her mother good-bye. "I'll be home in a few hours, Mom." And then she smiled at him. "And I'd like him alive when I get home, please."

"I promise, baby. I won't do anything to hurt him that isn't due to him." And Amy gave him a long look. At least Michael knew where Maria had inherited part of her Hurricane DeLuca-ness from.

And for a moment, it looked like Maria was trying to decide whether or not to kiss him. But in the end, she didn't. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, and finally just gave him that small smile instead. "Cheesehead."

So he smirked back. "Dorkbutt." Their own almost codewords for how they really felt, the words they'd always used, even when they didn't realize it.

And she left. As the back door slammed shut, Michael felt that cold burst of fear that clenched his fragile human heart. This wasn't the 'The FBI are gonna dissect me' fear. This was the 'Amy DeLuca's gonna broil my ass and then eat it' fear.

"Sit down, Michael."

He sat, not because he wanted to, but because she told him to. The DeLuca women had some weird power over him. Maybe it was a chick thing, because Izzy had the same power over Alex, and Maximillian was definitely whipped by Liz. But that was almost a mutual whipping there... He shook his head, trying to clear it of distracting thoughts. Like he really needed that image.

Michael realized Amy was smirking at him, and didn't figure out why until he looked down, and saw that he still clutched two dirty plates in his hands. He could feel his ears burning again. He opened his mouth again to say something, but like Maria, Amy always managed to render him speechless as well.

"How old do you think I am, Michael?"

"Uhhhhhh..." His mind went blank. "Twenty-eight?" She looked young--almost too young to be Maria's mother. Mrs. Evans was old. Mrs. Parker was old too. Well, older. But women always liked to hear that they were younger than they looked. And for some reason, Michael found himself hoping that Amy DeLuca was a lot younger than she looked...

She smirked at him. "I didn't know you were funny, Michael. I'm Thirty-three. Do you know how old I was when Maria was born?"

He did some quick mental math. "Seventeen." Only a few months older than they were. They'd be seventeen soon--all of them. And if Amy DeLuca had been seventeen when she had Maria...

"Yeah. Babies having babies. Luckily, my parents were pretty understanding. Otherwise, Maria might've ended up in foster homes." That explained a lot about Maria somehow...her maturity, her strong views about sex and abortion...the whole thing with her father...

"Like me."

And Amy almost smiled, as she laid her hand on his. Her hand was small like Maria's...too small, really, to have raised a child by herself for so long. "Yeah, like you." So she knew. But of course she knew. Amy DeLuca was dating the Sheriff. And Mr. Evans was her lawyer. And Mr. Parker's daughter was her daughter's best friend. Which suddenly made Michael wonder exactly how much Amy knew about him...

"I love my daughter, Michael. I know she's smarter than I am. I know that if anyone will, she'll make it out of this stupid little town." Amy gave him a long, searching look. "And I know how you feel about her. I don't hate you--although I still haven't quite recovered to finding you in her bed that night, young man--but if you ever, ever do anything to hurt my daughter, I'll hunt you down and carve your balls off with a spoon, because my grandbabies will not grow up without a father, you hear me?"

"Ummm, yes, ma'am." He'd willingly face a thousand feds and Nasedo all over again if it meant that he'd be safe from Amy DeLuca. But somehow, Maria's personality completely made sense now...

"Mrs. DeLuca...I..." His mouth moved, but no words came out. He knew what he wanted to say, but as always, he couldn't vocalize it.

And there was a soft smile on her young face--a face too young to be a mother, but one that never regretted the choice. "I know, Michael. You'll be a better man than her father was someday. But I want you both to grow up first."

He nodded silently, since it was all he could do. They'd cross that whole bridge of sex when they came to it. And knowing his luck, alien/human sex would cause Maria to spontaneously combust or something. For now, he was content to have her laying against his heart at night, after a nice make-out session on his couch, or in the back room of the Crashdown. And when school started up again in a month, there would be the eraser room too...

"I'll take care of her. I promise." And he knew he would, for as long as he was able. And he also knew that in this moment, he couldn't leave her. There would be times in the future when he probably would, but for now...he was content to be almost a part of Maria's little family. And he was glad that her mother almost approved.

"I'm gonna get some sleep. I need to be up early tomorrow for work, and..." He stood, wiping at his eyes roughly with his hand. For some reason, they were all watery all of a sudden. It was probably the onions in the burritos Amy had made. Or the really awful cologne the Sheriff had been wearing.

Amy stood, and for a moment looked at him. Then she nodded for some reason only she would know, and leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Good night, Michael. Sweet dreams."

His dreams were pretty much always sweet now, when Maria was beside him. But Amy didn't need to be told that. Somehow, he thought she might already know.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She heard the door open two hours later, and Maria's dancing footsteps echo down the hall to her bedroom. Amy waited about ten minutes before putting on her robe and slipping out into the hallway. There was no light shining from underneath her daughter's bedroom door, so she opened it slowly and peered in. And, as she'd suspected, there were two heads lying on Maria's cloud-print pillowcases. She sighed, ready to pound on the door to wake them both up, but then something stopped her. Maybe it was the almost-natural way her daughter lay curled up against Michael's spine. They laid back to back, but on top of the covers rested their hands, Maria's small fingers intertwined in Michael's larger ones. And on Michael's usually gruff face, there was a soft smile.

She shut the door quietly, deciding to treat the whole thing as if it were a dream. If she dreamed it, she didn't have to reprimand the two in the morning. And that way, she wouldn't have to disturb their fragile peace either.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He dreamed. He dreamed of burning ozone and darkness and horrible turbulence that threw him about in his safe, warm cocoon. He dreamed of a snatch of humming song, and a burst of love from someone who must have cared something for the children they bioengineered. And the horrible crunching sound, the screeching of metal as it pounded into earth, and the smell of flames that reached him, even in his incubation sleep...

And then he saw the smiling face of a little girl with wild blond curls, face crinkling into a smirking, pixie smile. She ran at the heels of a dark-haired girl with luminous dark eyes. The two caught hands and spun and laughed, their heads thrown back with a carefree burst of happiness that only children knew. Then, the golden-haired girl turned to face him, almost as if she saw him, and a look of complete adoration washed over her cherub face. The older, dark haired girl's mouth moved in something that almost looked like his name. And the golden girl threw herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs about his body and holding him so tight. "You're home! You're home! Mama said you'd be home today, you're home!"

And the dream broke as the goldilocked child's soft mouth touched his face with a thousand smacking kisses. Maria's clock-radio was spewing some cheesy boy band song next to his head.

"What?" Her tousled golden head lifted up from his chest. "Time for you to go already?"

He kissed the crown of her head. "I'll see you at work tonight though. And then we're going out with Izzy and Alex, remember?"

She snuggled closer, her arms tightening about his waist. "Call in sick. Don't leave."

He chuckled. "I have to go, cheesehead. Remember? Independence means no more ditching." He kissed her temple, the crease in her cheek where her dimple appeared. "No more running either."

Maria's lips found his sleepily. "I'll see you at work then, but don't be late, because Jose's on vacation, and Mr. Parker really hates when he has to wear the do-rag."

She curled up into the warm hollow his body had left, wrapping the blankets into a tight nest of rainbow colors about her. Though her eyes were closed, he knew she wasn't asleep yet. She'd stay awake until he finished getting dressed.

And as he pulled on the clean dark jeans he'd stashed at the back of Maria's closet, and tucked his blue oxford shirt in, he looked back to where she lay sprawled across her bed, her golden curls spread over the pillow like a cloud. Her hair was still short, but it was growing out...maybe someday, she'd have the same long blond curls that had tempted him so much when they were younger.

He turned back to take one last look at her, snoring softly in her sleep. He snickered softly. Maybe all of that inhaling aromatheraputic crap had finally gotten to her sinuses. But she was beautiful. And in her sleep, she looked so much like the girl in his dreams.

But as he walked out the door, he realized that the dark-haired girl's ears had stuck out just a little, and that there had been something smirky about the golden-haired child's smile. That, and the fact that her eyes had been a dark, beautiful brown instead of laughing hazel.

And in the back of his mind, he heard the childish laughter of two little girls, as he wondered what part they would play in what now seemed to be his fate or something. Maybe even his destiny.

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