Comment: Note: takes place two months after DoFP: Dear Isabel

*~*~*

His fingers danced lightly across the pane of glass and hers parted the rainbow curtain. A lifted window and a breath between them. Surprise paints her features, softened by the lamplight. She hadn’t thought this would ever happen again. She hadn’t though she would ever see him again, let alone find him at her bedroom window, moonlight kissing his face as he gazed into her eyes, begging for forgiveness, for understanding, aching to be let back in, to be held.

"Can I...?" His voice is hesitant, waiting for her to say no.

A nod, "Come in...", and a step back to receive him.

It’s warm in her room, so much warmer than outside.

She waits, watching him watch the floor, awkward as always when he’s on the verge of confessing something real, something that chips away just a little bit more of the stone wall he’s been building around himself since he was a child.

"I missed you..."

"I missed you too..."

He looks at her and she wraps her arms around herself. Those arms that had held him once upon a time in the middle of the first night he had ever let anyone see him cry, had ever let anyone see him hurt.

The first time he had ever really needed someone.

She comes closer to him, and places a hand on his chest.

She looks up at him, her eyes soft, and brimming with tears. "You came back..."

He nods slowly, closing his eyes at the warmth from her hand sinking into his skin through his shirt, feeling at peace, feeling alive.

He shouldn’t be here.

There’s a reason he’s not.

This is a lie... She pushes the thought away, pushes it deep down inside her. Dreams are for escaping a reality that hurts too much to face, and she refuses to let it in and ruin everything.

She knows it’s painful for him to step away from her, the windowpane is so cold against his fingers, but he does it anyway because Dream Michael or Real Michael - it’s never as easy as saying "Yes, I want this...I’m going to let this happen..." There has to be resistance because it’s who he is. Deep down she knows he’s always felt unworthy, not good enough for her love, unwilling to take it when it’s offered for fear it will be taken away or crumble to dust between his fingers as soon as he lets himself cherish it, take it for all it’s worth and find comfort in it. She offers it anyway, just like she always had and always will.

Her voice comes from behind him, resting on his shoulder, and speaking softly, "You can...you can stay if...if you want to..."

He hears the slight lift of her shoulders and the whisper of her hair brushing across her cheek as she bows her head. He can’t say no, he doesn’t want to.

He turns to her. Not a word, just a look that says everything he has ever wanted to say. The same look she saw on his face two months ago on the night he left her.

She takes his hand in both of hers, and leads him to her bed.

He lays down beside her, barely breathing, aching to hold her, but afraid to reach out.

Her hand slides across the space between them to touch his face, cradle his chin in the curve of her palm. Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair, smoothing it back. He puts his hand over hers and draws it down to his lips, kissing it gently, breathing in the scent of cypress oil. He can’t imagine being anywhere but here.

But he’s not here.

He starts to fade like an old photograph left out in the sun, and she can’t feel him anymore. Her hands are empty, just like her heart. And she cries for the thousandth time since he left. Dreams only get you so far, only comfort you so much...but in the end they’re never enough.

Michael Guerin is gone and she doesn’t understand this...this brokenness...this emptiness she feels. She’d only known him for a year...less than that...and for most of that time she had hated him...That should have been her first clue as to how she really felt. You couldn’t hate someone with that much passion without it spilling over into other territories...into lust, desire...love.

They could have been something...something beautiful, and exciting, and...real. He believed that too.

He had said "no" to the Michael/Isabel idea. He had told "Tess" flat out in front of her and everyone else that he didn’t give a shit about who destiny thought he should be with, and that the last thing he would ever do is let it or anybody else dictate who he gave himself to for the rest of his life. He said that he would make that decision for himself and his eyes had flickered over to hers for an instant as Isabel vehemently agreed with him. She had thought at the time that that was the biggest obstacle they would ever have to face - destiny.

And then of course there was their own stubbornness, their own reluctance to let things go too far. Michael hadn’t been ready for anything more than a hot make out session in the Eraser Room, and she hadn’t been ready to trust him with her heart again, not yet. So they had decided to try the "friends" thing, and they had kept faithful to the title after the whole flashes episode, carefully avoiding the "friends-with-benefits" temptation and completely steering clear of the "fuck-buddies" area. They had barely touched each other for longer than a second or two even after the rejection of Nasedo’s explanation of "how things were supposed to be" until the night he had left, when she had come to his apartment angry and upset. The night she realized that he loved her just as much as she loved him.

And even though a part of her understood why he felt he had to go, it did nothing to ease the hopeless pain in her heart.

"Maria!" Maria hastily wiped the tears from her face as Kyle banged on her door and pushed it open before she answered.

"Don’t you knock?" she growled, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that’s what I did Delu-" He trailed off, the attitude slipping out of his voice and off his face as he looked at her. "Are you okay?"

"Do you care?" She snapped.

"No, that’s why I was asking." He fired back sarcastically and then paused. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing. What do you want?"

"That was Liz on the phone before."

"Why didn’t you get me?"

"Because I thought I’d be nice and let you sleep...you looked like you needed a rest." She stared at him and he shrugged.

"Whatever. She wanted to remind you that you said you’d start your shift early tomorrow." She nodded, and traced a butterfly on her bedspread, waiting for him to leave, so she could go back to being miserable.

"Look, DeLuca, I hate the fact that our parents are together just as much as you do, I hate the fact that we’re living here just as much as you do."

"Is there a point to this?"

"The point is parents suck...and I know we’re not friends. We barely talked to each other when Liz and I were going out...but...I’m here, you know? If you need someone to talk to and Liz or Alex or Max or Isabel or Michael aren’t around..." she flinched at Michael’s name and he stared at her "...I’m here..."

"Thanks, Kyle..." she whispered, mildly surprised. He nodded and turned to go but stopped just outside the door.

"They’re out to dinner...you wanna order some Chinese or something?" Maria shrugged. "What about ice cream? Don’t you guys usually get ice cream when you’re upset?" Maria smiled at him despite herself. "C’mon, DeLuca, you can’t spend the rest of your life like this..."

Maria bit her lip and he was afraid she was going to start crying again. "You’re right...you’re right..." she said softly and stood, nodding to herself, getting more and more determined. "It’s been two months...I can’t keep doing this to myself...I have to let him go..."

She took a deep breath to steady herself, but it turned into a sob before she was done exhaling. She sank back down onto the bed and after a moment she felt his arms around her, trying to comfort her, as she swallowed her tears, refusing to cry in front of Kyle Valenti, even though he was for once being halfway decent. He rubbed her shoulders and she closed her eyes trying not to pretend it was Michael holding her.

"Do you...want to talk?"

*~*~*

"So...he’s gone...That Michael guy..."

Maria bit her lip and dug into her pint of Ben and Jerry’s, nodding.

"And...you love him." She looked up at him, surprised. He was looking at his ice cream too, fascinated by the swirls of fudge in the vanilla, and traced them with his spoon. "But he didn’t love you?"

"I think he loved me as much as he could let himself...love..." a human..."me."

"Then why’d he leave?" Maria glared at him, and he held up his hands in a "didn’t-mean-nuthin-by-it" gesture. "He...left, Kyle...because he had to..." Kick Nasedo’s ass. "uh...find himself."

"Is that what he told you? Ouch."

"He didn’t tell me anything - he just left."

"Ouch again."

"I don’t want to talk about this anymore."

"Look, why are you so upset about this guy? He sounds like a jerk. What sixteen-year old has to 'find himself'? Jesus, at that rate he’ll be having a mid-life crisis at twenty and-"

"Kyle."

"What?"

"You aren’t helping."

They were silent for moment, their spoons scraping along the walls of their ice cream cartons.

"I just...I just wish I knew if he was okay...This wouldn’t be so hard if I knew he was all right...if I knew..."

"When he was coming back?"

"He’s not coming back." Maria rubbed her eyes mumbling, "I thought I was stronger than this. I should be used to men leaving by now."

"You never get used to being left behind." Kyle said quietly and Maria looked at him, remembering that his parents had separated a few years ago. "How did you...how did you deal with it? With your mom?"

Kyle shrugged. "I discovered the joys of alcohol." He smirked and took a bite of ice cream mumbling over it, "And then I met Liz and...umm... I didn’t need it anymore."

Maria felt her heart tighten, her own pain forgotten for a moment. "Oh Kyle,.." She reached out across the table to grab his hand and he leaned back in his chair away from her.

"Don’t look at me like that, Maria."

"Like what?"

"Like I’ve spent all these months since Liz broke up with me pining over her, cuz I haven’t. She’s with Max and I’m okay with that. I’ve been okay with that for a while. He’s the better man for her. They belong together. I mean who am I to be pissed off about something so obvious?"

"You really care about her, don’t you?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and shoved some more ice cream into his mouth. "So how do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

"That that Michael guy’s not coming back?"

"Well...because he hated it here. In Roswell. He once told me that there had to be something better out there for him than this stupid little town. I was kinda hoping for a while that that something could be me but...that was silly. I mean who am I, y’know? I’m nothing special. I’m a waitress."

"That’s not true..." Maria frowned at him.

"Umm, yeah, it is - I am a waitress..."

"What I meant was that if he can’t see that there’s more to you than that then he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought and you’re better off without him anyway." She stared at him in surprise, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at everything but her. "I’m not helping you feel better, am I?"

"We’re home!" Maria and Kyle rolled their eyes at each other as Amy and Jim came into the kitchen with their arms around each other, grinning like a pair of teenagers in love.

"Did you guys have a nice night?" Maria looked at Kyle across the table and smiled at him tentatively.

"Yeah, it wasn’t too bad."

"Well, good... we’re going to bed." Amy giggled and Maria had to make a conscious effort not to cringe. She felt Kyle doing the same.

When the "happy couple" left Maria got up from the table and tossed her empty container in the trash, grabbing her stomach.

"I can’t believe I ate that whole thing...I’m sooo gonna be sick."

Kyle smirked, shaking his head and muttered, "Girls."

She stood there behind him for a minute, staring at the curve of his strong shoulders, hunched over his ice cream. He was surprisingly easy to talk to even though he couldn’t and never would understand. She was shocked to find that they actually had some things in common. It had been nice talking to him. Weird, but nice. Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad to have around after all.

"Well, I’m going to sleep." She said, wiping her palms on her jeans.

"Yeah, it’s late." He agreed. She went to the hallway that led to her bedroom and turned back to him one last time before going.

"Y’know, maybe it’s not so terrible that you guys are here." She said and he looked up, eyebrows raised. "I mean...they seem happy...and at least we have each other to complain to whenever they get too disgusting." She heard a thump from her mother’s bedroom and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Like now..." He smiled and nodded. "Anyway, thanks, Valenti."

"Any time Deluca." She started leave again and he stopped her. "Maria? Ummm, after my mom left...dad just shut himself off. He wouldn’t talk to anyone...he was just going through the motions, y’know? And when he wasn’t sitting around waiting for her to come back he was working until that’s all he was - his job. He changed when he started going out with Amy...it was like he was letting himself try and be happy again. Don’t get me wrong, he can still be a dick, but...he’s himself again..." He laughed and took another bite of ice cream. "I know you’re prob’ly wondering why I just told you all that but...I guess my point is that if you don’t let yourself get over things...they kind of take over everything...until you don’t know who you are anymore...I’m just...I’m just trying to say be careful...don’t let what you’re feeling now determine how you feel for the rest of your life..."

*~*~*

Maria shut the door softly behind her. She strode purposely over to her nightstand where the napkin holder he had made her sat holding all of her oils. She dumped them out on the bed and picked up the empty vial of Grief Relief that she had used up that night he came to her in the rain. She tossed it into the trash bin. She turned to the rocking chair beside it and picked up the black sweater sleeping over its arm. Michael’s. He had given it to her to wear when they had gone to see The Thirteenth Floor with Alex and Isabel. It hadn’t been a double date. Alex and Isabel weren’t together then and she and Michael had gone along with the intention of proving to themselves that they could hang out as friends in a dark room without mauling each other. They had sat beside each other sharing a bucket of popcorn, being very good.

Aside from smacking him when she had caught him slyly trying to pour on some Tabasco Sauce, contact had been minimal. She only grabbed his hand twice - and that was only during the really scary parts. It had been dark out when they left and a little chilly. He had insisted she put on his sweater for the two-block walk to the car. She had forgotten to give it back to him and he had never asked for it, so she kept it. She slept in it every night, and had actually cried when she noticed that his scent was gone from it and replaced with hers. She held it to her chest and touched the paint stains on it - blue and yellow.

She took it to the bed and wrapped the napkin holder in it. She put it in her closet - the top shelf, and shoved it to the back. She stood there for a moment staring at the dark bundle, and after taking a deep breath shut the closet door and stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of it.

A stranger looked back at her. A pale, fragile looking girl with sad eyes. That person was not her. The Maria DeLuca she knew was not weak. The Maria DeLuca she knew was a survivor. And if she was going to be that girl again, she had to put his things away. They weren’t comforting, they never had been. They had kept the sadness in her eyes by reminding her of something...of someone she would never have.

She hadn’t said goodbye to him in the desert.

She was saying it now.

She knew she would still dream of him, would still miss him. Nothing could ever make her stop. But Kyle was right. It was time to start living again, time to stop crying. It was time to let go.

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