Comment: Disclaimer: Characters - me no own - belong to other lucky people like the folks at the WB and o’ course Melinda Metz.

Note: takes place after DoFP: Crash Down

*~*~*

He was made of sand. It was his skin and the night sky was his goddess. He lay stretched out beneath her, a part of the desert that worshipped at her feet. He’d done this countless times before, slept here under the moonlight, his arms and legs spread out, his body a star on the white sand. Black and white and silver, stark and icy. That was the night desert, so different from the gold and red and brown of the day. He preferred it. There was a kind of beauty to it, a simplicity that was lacking in his life. Things were black and white here. No confusion, no noise, no complications. But it was different now. Nasedo had changed everything. His mind, usually so clear here, was spinning, there was a roaring in his ears, echoes of screams and crunching metal. He no longer felt comfortable and at peace in the desert, the air hummed with a discord that separated him from the beauty, from the calm.

He wasn’t one with the sand anymore. He was a broken heap of flesh and blood and bone buried under it, a victim of it. It filled his mouth, the curves of his ears, every crease in his clothes, keeping him bound to this earth that he had always hated so much.

He stared up at her, his sad desert sky, and could almost see the faint imprint of the visions etched among her stars.

He could smell the blood that pulsed through his veins. It was how he knew he was still alive. Slowly he became aware of his body again.

He hadn’t moved in over an hour. He couldn’t fight the storm any longer. It had lifted him up and slammed him down on the ground again and again, each time the impact resonating in his teeth and making his head throb. The last time he hadn’t gotten back up. He had laid there, his eyes shut tight, his teeth clenched as the sand and stones scraped across his skin, leaving bloody trails. It hurt more than any broken jaw or rib he had ever suffered from one of Hank’s rages. Because this time he couldn’t disconnect. He couldn’t crawl into his head to escape it all because they were there. The people on the ship. His people. He could still hear them screaming, could see their bodies paralyzed with fear as the ground came closer and closer knowing there was nothing to stop death from rushing up to meet them. He concentrated on the pain in his body.

He could stand that - that didn’t kill him half as much as Nasedo’s memories of the crash.

And then suddenly it had stopped. The storm had passed over him, leaving him behind, and he laid there wondering how the hell he was still alive. It was going after Max and Isabel.

And he had a choice.

He could warn them through the connection, could send them an image of the sandstorm but that would mean letting go of Nasedo. He had blocked them out so he could concentrate on holding onto him in the first place after all hell had broken loose and the bastard had tried to run. He knew he would never be able to catch him, not when he was so weak, so shell-shocked. The connection was the only way he would ever be able to find him again. They were linked and there was nothing Nasedo could do about it. It was strong now - there was no way he could break it. Michael’s connection, once divided in two to hold onto Max and Isabel was now a strong single cord binding him to the man that had destroyed their families, their dreams of ever returning home. Holding onto Nasedo, meant letting go of Max and Isabel. It was the only choice he had. He couldn’t let him get away with what he’d done...

He chose not to warn Max and Isabel.

He chose to believe that they would see it coming, that they would have the sense to run. Revenge was more important now. It was more important than family, than love...

His throat tightened at the memory of Maria’s tear stained face greeting him as he opened his door earlier that evening. She had needed him. The one time she had needed him and he had run out on her.

A part of him wanted to leave Nasedo, to break the connection and go home to her, to comfort her, and put all of his energy into making her all right again so he could block them out, so he could forget. But he knew if he let this go he would spend the rest of his life wondering what had really happened on the ship, he would spend the rest of his life angry and guilt ridden because he had done nothing to avenge the lives of his family, of Max and Isabel’s family. He would never be able to live with himself if he let Nasedo go free.

He pictured her one last time, lying asleep on his couch, looking like a blue angel in the moonlight, breaking his heart with her beauty. He had kissed her goodbye, not knowing he might never see her again. If he had known he would have woken her up. He would have told her that he loved her, and that he would find his way back to her someday no matter what it took. He kissed her goodbye one last time in his mind and locked her away with Max and Isabel in his heart. If he was going to go through with this he couldn’t think of her, he couldn’t think of them.

He slowly got to his feet, his knees shaky, his bare arms slick with blood. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the connection, letting it tell him which way Nasedo had gone.

"Michael!"

He froze. It sounded like Maria. As faint as the cry had been he recognized her voice over the white noise of the sandstorm. "Michael!"

There was fear in her voice. Fear for him. He almost turned around and then he heard Liz’s voice. Liz would take care of her. Liz would make sure she was alright just like she always had before he ever came into her life.

Before he had complicated it and made her think she needed him, loved him. He hoped she understood someday why he had to do this.

He turned and limped in the direction Nasedo had gone.

He couldn’t hear her anymore, either of them. And he thanked a god he didn’t know for that. It was hard enough to walk away now, but if he heard her voice again, her voice so thick with anguish, with tears...he would have faced a thousand of those storms to get back to her again.

He paused.

He couldn’t even hear it. Maybe he blocked it out, maybe he blocked her out just so he could go on. But no, the desert air was finally still. Silent. The storm was far behind him. He could hear nothing now but the beating of his heart and his ragged breath tearing through that silence. He was the only sound in the world, he was the only one there.

He followed the pull of the connection, knowing it would lead him to Nasedo. And once he found him it would all be over and maybe, maybe he could begin his life, maybe he could live without all the nagging questions, the doubts, the fears that had plagued him since the day he discovered what he was.

Maybe he would finally find peace.

Back to Area 51 (Section II)