Author's note: Takes place several days after "Mr. Raddish Strikes Back", in Danilise's future arc.

James Raddish walked past the art room, momentarily stunned by the loud music that permeated the hallway. He'd heard rumors about the new art teacher--that he was some almost-famous bohemian painter. Peering in the doorway, it almost reassured him the way so little, and so much, had changed.

The floor was still the same easy-to-clean linoleum, but the windows were larger, filling the small room with more space and light. Two of the four walls were bare, waiting for the new year of student artwork. On the third wall, facing the windows, was a half-finished mural, being done in what looked like oil paints. A tall figure stood in front of the wall, back turned, applying paint with his bare fingers. There was something familiar about the stance of the man dressed in black. Something about the way the hair stuck up...

"Can I help you?" The man's voice was dry, but he didn't bother turning around. Mr. Raddish was startled that he could be heard over such loud music.

"I was just looking in..." Mr. Raddish stammered. "I'm new to the school this year, and I still haven't met what's left of the staff..."

And the art teacher began to chuckle, a laugh that also sounded familiar. The figure turned around, revealing a man in his early to mid thirties, with an almost mocking grin cutting across the clean lines of his face. There was something about the way the dark eyes laughed, and that annoyingly spiky hair...

And he began to laugh. Hysterically. Of course. If one Nicole Guerin was in his class, it would fit that her father would work with him. Of course. Michael Guerin as the art teacher at Roswell Elementary. It made perfect sense. Just as much sense as Michael Guerin and Maria DeLuca actually mating and spawning children. He laughed until tears dripped down his chin.

"Nice to see you too, sir." Mr. Guerin seemed to almost shrink into himself, thrusting his paint-smeared hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. He immediately assumed the posture of the rebel eleven year old. Maybe Michael Guerin hadn't changed. Or maybe it was James Raddish who hadn't.

James walked into the room, surprised to find that Mr. Guerin had grown to be taller than he was. But as he watched the way that Michael still almost slunk around the room, he could still see the boy inside the man. The man seemed softer though, as if Michael Guerin had finally found his own salvation.

"So you and Miss DeLuca didn't kill each other then."

And to James' surprise, Mr. Guerin actually chuckled. "We almost did a few times." The look on his face was almost...friendly. Michael Guerin really had changed. "I guess Nicole surprised you then."

James snorted. "Surprised doesn't quite describe it. Jamie Valenti was surprising. A cross of you and Miss DeLuca was...stunning." And how Sylvia had laughed over it later... A row of pictures sitting on the desk in the corner caught his eye. There was a suspiciously large number of children of various ages in them, most of whom smirked with that familiar Guerin grin... He began to whimper. "And if God has the sense of humor I think he has, then you didn't stop with Hurricane Nicole..."

Mr. Guerin came to stand behind him, running his hands in that familiar way through his hair, so that blue paint streaked the spikes. "You have three more of mine to look forward to. And two Whitmans." He pointed with one long finger to each face. "Stephen William, Leo Christopher, and Mikyelah Marie." He beamed, an expression of fatherly pride that James Raddish never expected to see on Michael Guerin's face. For a moment, he felt almost...jealous of Michael and Maria.

"And the others?" There were three other faces repeated over and over in the frames.

"Claudia Isabel Evans," pointing to the slight, dark girl with Nicole. "Matthew Philip and Anna Elizabeth Whitman," touching a picture of a dark-haired young boy with large blue eyes, and a tall, thin blond that reminded him of a young princess he once taught, with a mega-watt smile.

"So Elizabeth and Max...and Isabel and Alex?" It was funny how the childhood pairings he had watched had developed into a love strong enough to last this long. "And young Kyle? Did he end up with either of the fashion twins?" He'd heard rumors about Maggie Sherman being married and divorced before she was 21, and the Cohen girl in his class bore a suspicious resemblance to one Grace...

"Nope. He married the deputy, Bethany Braddock." And there was that grin that had caused him so much pain and agony. The funny thing was that James could actually look at it and not feel a craving for Pepto. Maybe he'd finally outgrown his fear of Michael Guerin. But Miss DeLuca on the other hand...

He moved away from the pictures and began to study some of the artwork on the wall. "These are yours, aren't they?" The style looked familiar. He'd actually seen one of them in a gallery in Los Angeles. The technique was oils done in a rough stroke--almost Rembrandtish. In fact, when he looked closer, most of the faces were very familiar. "Miss Evans. She grew to be more beautiful than I thought she would. And Miss Parker and Mr. Whitman..."

The most striking of all was a small 8x10 portrait of a young woman, sitting at a window, looking up and out at something. Her hands were clasped around her very pregnant belly. But the profile was unmistakable, even almost 25 years later. "Maria. I must say, Mr. Guerin, your talent astounds me..." He'd never thought there was so much passion inside of the hellion he'd taught.

"Mr. Guerin--"

"Mr. Raddish--"

"I'm sorry." They both spoke at the same time, then grinned sheepishly at each other.

James Raddish coughed a few times. "I'm just glad...that you found your way out. That you..."

And Michael's mouth quirked up into that old half-grin. "It wasn't me. It was Maria." Somehow, the light that shone on his usually sullenly pensive face made every bit of that year's heartache worth it to James Raddish. So James offered up a hesitant smile of his own.

"I always hoped I'd reach one student, Mr. Guerin. I never thought it would be you."

Michael opened his mouth several times to speak, another gesture James Raddish remembered from the young boy. And then, the younger man blushed. "It was all of us, Mr. Raddish. It was your class. And the camping trip."

And from somewhere deep in James Raddish's worn heart, some feeling of peace began to bubble up. But he didn't let himself feel too comfortable. Mr. Guerin was the art teacher now, and in charge of most of the paint in school. And his wife was still Maria DeLuca. "So, Mr. Guerin...do your children share your fondness for M&Ms?"

He might as well prepare for the next generation, since someone had to raise them up right.

Back to Area 51 (Section II)