(continued from previous)

"How, Michael?" Maria asked, eyes wide. "We can't just bust a hole through a wall and march out of here. This is....Well, I don't know where this is. But it has no doors, no windows....How are we going to get out?"

Michael stood slowly and helped her to her feet. "This isn't real, Maria," he told her. "This-- all of this," he made a sweeping gesture to encompass her Dreamscape, "it's all in your mind. We just have to punch through to the surface."

"I ask again-- how?"

"It should be simple enough," he continued, and she could tell he was deliberately hedging. "Don't you worry."

"Michael-- HOW?"

He wouldn't meet her gaze. That was not good. Michael would only avoid her eyes when he wanted to keep something from her. And there could be no secrets between them now.

Reaching out, she tilted his chin so that he looked into her eyes. "Michael, what aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

He shook his head, pulling his chin from her grasp. "Nothing. Really, Maria, I'm telling you everything."

He was lying. It was plain as day. But he was also being stubborn, and when Michael Guerin dug in his heels, nothing short of an act of God could dislodge him. Maria grunted, but she didn't press the issue.

"All right, spaceboy," she said. "Then what do we do?"

Michael's face changed then. Softened. He reached out a hand and pulled her closer to him, so that her chest pressed against his, and she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. "You don't have to do anything," he whispered. "I'll do all the work."

"But, Michael-" He cut her off with a kiss so tender, yet so powerful, everything else disappeared. Her hands snaked up behind his neck, and held him tightly against her lips.

Soon, she felt her limbs begin to tingle. Her torso soon followed, then her hips. Eventually, she began to feel light-headed, drifting and spacey. She thought it was simply lack of air....

Until he pulled back, and she realized she was glowing.

Well, not just her. To be more specific, EVERYTHING seemed to be glowing. A bright, ecclesiastic white that sang of angels. Maria's eyes widened. "Michael?"

He smiled at her. "You need strength," he told her. Passing his hand in front of her eyes, she saw that it was glowing. "I have strength." He placed the hand on her shoulder, and slowly, so slowly, caressed his way down her arm, slipped onto her hip, and moved up again along her side. As his hand passed over her body, she felt that same tingling follow in its wake. "Now my strength," he whispered, "is your strength."

Maria wanted to speak, to tell him something, but her throat wouldn't work. She let her head loll back as his hands moved over her, touching her everywhere, the pure white light that was his essence soaking into her, infusing her.

She could sense things now she never could before.

The criss-cross patterns of the veins behind her eyelids.

The warm, loving thoughts Michael wafted to her through the light that surrounded her-- My Maria, my only Maria, My sweet and spicy Maria... Over and over, so that her heart felt like it would burst.

And perhaps sweetest of all, she could feel her baby-- the tiny spark of life in her stomach that she had created with Michael. The continuation of them. The physical representation of something Maria couldn't begin to express. This was more than just love. This was devotion to its utmost reach.

Her knees were growing weak-- she felt them start to buckle. But Michael was there, and he caught her, lowering her slowly to the floor. Maria opened her eyes, and gazed at him in adoration. He looked like a Grecian God-- an earthbound Apollo-- backlit and shimmering. "Michael," she murmured.

He ran his hand down her throat, over her breasts, then across her stomach, where he paused. His eyes grew wide with wonder, and he looked back to her. "I can feel our baby," he breathed.

She smiled, and crossed her hands over his. "So can I," she whispered.

The tingling was stronger now-- so intense, she thought she was going to explode with the sensation. "Michael," she moaned again, arching up a little as his hands worked double duty, caressing up her legs, over her upper thighs, then back down between to her knees. Then up again. Up and up...

"Wake up now," he said softly, and her eyes snapped open.

"What?"

His smile was small, and sad. Why was his smile sad? "You should be strong enough to wake up now," he explained. "I've given you all I can."

Maria was suddenly scared. She didn't know what was waiting for her on the other side of that uncrossable boundary. "I don't want to go alone," she murmured.

Michael stretched out beside her, cradling her in his arms. "You won't go alone," he told her. "I'm right here with you. All you have to do...is open your eyes."

"They are open."

"I mean your REAL eyes."

She nodded, understanding. Taking a deep breath, she started to push her way up to conciousness.

But Michael's voice stopped her. "Maria?"

She looked at him, questioning. "Yes, Michael?"

"I love you."

It was said so simply. No fuss. No moonlight and roses and satin boxes of designer bon-bons. Just the truth. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet.

She smiled. "I love you, too." And she meant it.

Michael pulled her close. "Now open your eyes."

And she did.

******

Liz watched the couple on the bed anxiously. It had been a good thirty minutes since Michael had stretched out to lay beside her best friend, and there hadn't been so much as a twitch from either of them since. Not that she expected anything from Maria just yet-- though she could always hope. But it would have been nice to see some indication that Michael was succeeding in his goal.

"Come on, Michael," she muttered. "Give me a-"

She was cut off as Maria's back suddenly arched away from the bed and she pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. A split second later, Michael followed suit, sitting up beside the blonde and gasping for air as Maria panted below him.

Liz was stunned. She'd expected something, but even now, it was so hard to believe.... "Maria?" she said softly.

Her best friend was looking up at the ceiling, disoriented. But her head turned enough that she could look at Liz, where she sat in her customary chair in the corner. "Liz?" Maria croaked, her voice raspy and soft from disuse.

The dark-haired girl let out a whoop of joy, and she leapt to her feet. Dashing around the bed to get to Maria's free side, she hugged the girl close, eyes tearing. "Maria! God, you're AWAKE. Finally, you're awake!"

Maria's arms slipped around Liz's waist, and hugged her back. "I'm sorry I worried you, Liz," she rasped. "I didn't mean to."

Liz pulled back and looked down at her friend. "Don't you DARE apologize," she scolded. "All that matters is that you're back with us, safe and sound. And you're going to get better now." Her eyes slid up from Maria's face, and fell on Michael, who still sat beside the slim girl in the hospital bed. "Thank you," Liz said sincerely. "I mean that."

Michael nodded. He looked pale and drawn-- whatever he had done to bring Maria back must have been an ordeal. But his eyes were shining.

Maria turned away from Liz and gazed up at her knight-gallant. No words were spoken between the two, but simultaneously, their hands reached out and their fingers twined together. Liz watched the lovers silently, allowing them their privacy.

"You saved my life," Maria murmured, a hoarse whisper all her voice could manage.

Michael smiled down at her. "You think I'd let my best girl go?" he asked her softly.

Maria smiled. "Am I really you're best girl?" She was blushing, the pink flush giving her cheeks the first real color they'd had in over a week.

He nodded. "You're my ONLY girl," he told her.

She raised her lips for a kiss, which Michael willingly bestowed. Liz felt slightly envious of her best friend. If only Max were here right now.

When the two came apart, they gazed adoringly into one another's eyes.

Then, Michael said something strange.

"Goodbye, Maria," he murmured.

She looked at him strangely. "What?" she whispered.

Before he could answer, the alien teetered on the bed. Maria tried to grab hold of him, but before she could, he fell over the edge, landing on his back in a limp heap on the floor.

******

"Michael!" Maria screamed, though her voice couldn't go higher than a whisper. She struggled against the white linens that held her back as she edged her way across the bed to the side where he lay.

Liz was already at Michael's side, and Maria envied her mobility. She wasn't ready to handle this weakened self she'd suddenly been thrust back into. In her dreamworld, she'd been as strong as the first day Liz had told her Max Evans was an alien. Now, she felt exhausted just rolling over. "Michael?" she rasped.

Liz had her fingers to the pulse point on Michael's neck. When she looked up, Maria did not like the fear in her eyes. "His heart rate is slowing down," the dark-haired girl told her. "Maria, I think..." Liz swallowed, and started again. "Maria, I think he's dying.

******

Time stopped.

Reason spiralled out of the sky in great looping circles, colliding along the way with Joy, and Hope, and Understanding, exploding them into a thousand million pieces and setting fire to the microscopic fragments. Earth became Sky. Sky became earth. The sun began to orbit the moon, and air became water, as Maria Deluca's world shattered around her.

"Wha-what?" she murmured.

Liz's eyes met her own, and Maria felt her throat constrict. "He's dying." It was said as if she couldn't really believe it herself.

Which suited Maria just fine, because he WASN'T dying. He COULDN'T be. He'd just saved her life. "N-no he isn't," she croaked, cursing her weakened vocal cords. "He isn't."

Liz said nothing. Just sat and stared at her as if what she was saying were the truth.

"NO!" Maria repeated, louder this time, but even now, hardly more than a whisper. "Liz, no!"

"I'm sorry, Maria." There were tear's in the darker girl's voice.

She would show her. Shifting beneath the constraints of sheet and blanket, Maria swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, ready to set her feet on the ground.

Liz held out a hand to stop her friend. "No, Maria," she said firmly. "You're still weak."

She was right, of course, and Maria knew it. But her thin legs didn't need to support her just now. They just had to get her to the floor, which they did with very little prompting. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed hold of the edge of the bed to keep herself from falling on top of Michael like a bag of wet flour.

Liz must have known her protests would fall on deaf ears, because she just sat back a respectful distance to watch the tableau in front of her.

Somehow Maria managed to keep her body upright as she sat beside his shoulder and reached out a hand to cup his cheek. His breath across her arm was shallow and ragged, and tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed began to form in her eyes. "No," she hissed between gritted teeth. "No, you are NOT going to die, Michael Guerin."

His eyes flickered open, and she felt the first tear slip down her cheek. She reached up to dash it away, but somehow, his hand got there first. Warm fingers brushed the shimmering droplet away. "D..don't cry, Maria," he said shakily. "I h-hate it when you cry."

Michael's hand dropped back to his side, limp, and Maria grabbed it up between both of hers. "Then how about you stand up and walk out of here with me?" she rasped, as if levity could cure the situation.

But the minute shaking of his head killed all mirth dead. "That's...not going to happen, Maria." He pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, then released it with a groan, as if the effort of breathing had exhausted him too much.

"Why not?" Her voice was shaking, and another tear wound it's way down her cheek. But his hand didn't reach up to brush it away this time.

"You...know why."

"No I don't."

"I'm...dying, Ma...ria."

"No you're NOT." She just had to be firm with him. That always worked in the past. "You're going to stand up, and we're going to walk out of this hospital TOGETHER. And we're going to have this baby, and we're going to live forever and ever happy."

His hazel eyes were growing heavy now. She could see him fighting back up to the surface, and it made her stomach clench with panic. "I...WISH we cou...could do that, Maria," he breathed.

"Then help yourself!" It seemed so blatantly obvious to her. Shaking his hand in desperation, she wiped away her tears with her other hand. "Come on. Heal yourself. Just...heal yourself." The edge of panic in her own voice scared her.

Michael shook his head. "Can't." The words were growing shorter now.

"Why not?"

He didn't answer her.

"Michael, why not!?"

He just shook his head, and she suddenly knew why.

Her dams broke, and she began to slump, catching herself with one arm, gripping his hand in a white-knuckled grip with the opposite hand. "Oh, God," she choked out. "It's because of me, isn't it? Because you helped me." His silence was her answer.

The tears were blurring her vision too much now, and she blinked to flush them out. They cascaded down her cheeks like so many little waterfalls. "You knew all along, didn't you?" she whispered. "You knew, but you did it anyway."

He nodded-- a miniscule tilting of the head.

"You bastard!" Maria whispered. She bent forward so that her forehead touched his and her tears fell on his cheeks, his lips. "How DARE you do this! Don't you know, I don't want any of this without you?" She pressed his hand to her stomach, grinding it against her abdomen with bruising force. "I don't want my baby to grow up without a father!"

Michael's eyes, which had drifted shut, fluttered open again, and he gazed up into hers. "But...what a mother she'll have."

"I don't care!" Why couldn't she make him understand? "I want you! I NEED you!"

"You...never need..ed me, Maria," Michael whispered, so quietly, she almost couldn't hear him. "But I needed....you. You made...me...complete."

Maria was tired of arguing. She fell on his lips, kissing him with an intensity that could only be born of loss. His mouth responded, if weakly.

"God, please don't leave me, Michael," she sobbed as she pulled back, her lips still brushing his.

Words were beyond him now. His throat worked, but no sound came out. Slowly, so slowly, his free hand reached up to touch her cheek, as he gave her his last gift.

And she saw.

The image stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving Maria dazed and disoriented. Michael's hand fell away from her cheek and lay crossed over his still chest.

Still.

Too still.

"Michael?" she whispered.

There was no response.

Fresh panic set in, and she sat up, barely registering that Liz had left. Her mind was too preoccupied with the unmoving alien beside her. She shook him. "Michael?" Desperation edged her voice.

Still no answer.

Maria froze as realization dawned.

Then, slowly, her body crumpled forward, and she began to sob against his lifeless chest.

Michael Guerin died in the arms of the only person who had taught him how to live.

******

Liz Parker's fingers were numb as she lifted the receiver of the payphone. She saw her hand drop a dime, then a quarter, into the slot; heard the change jangle down the track. But it all seemed far away, as if it were happening in a dream.

Her fingers punched the numbers by rote, knowledge burned into her mind by years of repitition. The line jangled, and was picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" Mrs. Deluca's voice was shaky, and Liz knew she hadn't slept. Liz took a deep breath.

"Something happened," she said.

******

Maria couldn't breathe.

This was all too much. She tried to suck in air, but the sobs that shook her shoulders and racked her lungs wouldn't permit her. She gasped between each shuddering sob.

He was gone. Her Michael was dead.

Maria kept his hand pressed against her stomach, unwilling to break that final contact. Then she would have to admit he really was gone. She didn't think she could handle that.

"Michael," she gasped. "Michael!"

Her body bent in two around his hand, the lack of air causing lance after burning lance of pain to rip across her stomach. She rocked back and forth, sobbing even though her tears had long since run dry. His peaceful profile must have looked so odd, juxtaposed against her wild eyes and red cheeks.

"I can't lose you, Michael," she moaned. "God, not again. I can't lose you again!"

Maria barely noticed the tingling sensation against her belly; her pain, physical and emotional, were too great. They blocked out the world.

But soon, she DID become aware of it.

Her eyes, squeezed shut in an effort to block out some part of the pain, snapped open. "What-?" she breathed as she looked down towards her stomach, where his palm still pressed against her through the thin, greenish cloth of her hospital gown.

Michael's hand was glowing.

That same white, heavenly light she remembered from her dreamscape. It pulsed against her abdomen, rising and ebbing with her heartbeat.

Wait a minute. HER heartbeat?

That was when she noticed, Michael wasn't the one glowing. She was.

The light grew brighter, stretching out tendrils that curled up and around Michael's wrist. Maria watched in wonder as the energy emanating from her belly wrapped its way in ever quickening circles around Michael's arm, moving up to his shoulder, and then down his torso, until he was surrounded in a pure glowing nimbus that cast no shadow because it was everywhere.

How could this be happening? Maria's fingers clenched Michael's hand to her with a death-grip, afraid that letting him go would break the spell. Her eyes travelled in amazement from his face, to her stomach, and back again. She felt no different, no weaker.

How could this-?

Lightning struck.

The baby.

The baby HAD been strong. In giving of his strength, Michael had simply made it stronger. And now, it was repaying the favor the only way it could.

By saving the life that had given IT life.

Maria's eyes couldn't grow any wider, but her smile made up for it, as the light around her lover grew brighter and brighter still. It's pulsing was more extreme now, fluxing from blinding, to dim, to blinding. She forced herself not to flinch away as its pulsing grew faster and faster and faster...

There was an explosion of painfully bright light. Maria threw a hand up to shield her eyes from the blast, reeling backwards as though there were an actual concussion.

Then, there was nothing.

She lowered her hand slowly, unsure of what to expect. She half imagined Michael would be little more than a pile of ash. But he wasn't. And he still wasn't moving. The small kernel of hope she'd started to nurture began to wilt again.

Until Michael's eyes snapped open, his back arched away from the floor, and he sucked in a gasping, gargling breath.

Maria's eyes widened again as Michael collapsed back to the speckled tile, wheezing for air, chest rising and falling with his explosive breaths. She almost couldn't believe her own eyes. He was...

He was ALIVE.

His eyes were closed, so he couldn't see her hand as it reached out to touch his cheek. "Michael?" she whispered, new tears, this time of joy, in her eyes. Her free hand went to her throat-- the child in her stomach had given her a gift, too. Her voice no longer rasped.

When his lids flickered open, Maria's breathing sped up. When he smiled, it stopped all together.

"Hello, Maria," he murmured. "This is unexpected."

She gazed down at him for a moment, and he returned the look.

Then he was sitting up, and her arms were wrapping around him, and his around her, and he was ALIVE, oh GOD, he was ALIVE!

"You're back," she cried against his shoulder, holding him so tightly, her arms ached. "Oh, God, Michael, I thought you'd left me! I thought you'd left me again!"

Michael's arms twined tighter around her waist, making it harder for her to breathe, but she didn't care. She wanted to drown in him. "How?" he murmured into her hair. "How...did it happen?"

She somehow managed to pull back from him without losing contact, her forehead pressing against his. Smiling, she took his hand and moved it back to her stomach.

He looked puzzled for a second, then realization dawned. "You mean...?"

Maria nodded. "They said the baby was strong," she whispered against his lips. "If only they knew."

He smiled, and it felt good against her mouth. Kissable. So she kissed him. And it felt even better.

******

It was the shocked gasp from the doorway that finally pulled them apart.

Maria jerked back from Michael, and looked towards the sound. Liz stood framed in the doorway, frozen, one hand on the doorknob. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw hung slack. "Michael?" she gasped in disbelief.

He raised one hand and twitched it at her. "Hi, Liz."

Her eyes moved to Maria. "Maria?"

She grinned at her friend. "Hi, Liz."

The dark-haired girl gaped at them for a little longer, then shook herself and moved into the room. "But....but...." she stammered.

"It's a long story," Maria explained. "I'll tell you later."

"Maria?"

Her eyes went back to the door, and her smile lit up again. "MOM!"

Mrs. Deluca flew through the door-- Alex immediately behind her-- and wrapped her daughter in a hug, tears streaming down her cheeks. "My baby," she gasped. "My little girl, you're all right! You're awake!"

Maria was finding it even harder to breathe, being squeezed one way by Michael, and the other by her mother. But she never wanted it to end. "I'm okay, Mom," she told her, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"No, no, don't think about that," her mother chided quietly. "What matters is you're okay. Oh, sweetie, thank God!"

When they finally drew apart, reluctantly, Maria felt Michael begin to move behind her. Before she could ask what he was doing, she felt his arms wrap around her back and under her knees, and felt him swoop her up off the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes wide with surprise. "Where are we going?" she asked.

He quirked an eyebrow. "YOU are going back to bed," he told her, setting her down tenderly on the tousled mattress. Pulling the covers up to her waist, he fluffed the pillows behind her back, and pushed her back so that she rested against them. Maria just watched him adoringly-- she couldn't drink in the sight of him enough.

"Comfortable?" he asked softly. Maria nodded, and he bent down to touch his lips gently to her forehead.

Then he turned to stand face to face with her mother.

Maria swallowed. She knew the look on her mother's face. It was the personification of Hell hath no fury. She winced when the older woman lashed out and smacked Michael full-force across the face. "Mom..." she protested, leaning forward.

Michael made no noise as Mrs. Deluca's palm made contact with his cheek. His head snapped to the side, but he didn't so much as flinch.

"You hurt my baby," Mrs. Deluca told him firmly, her eyes flashing. "You will NEVER do that again."

Michael's face turned towards the older woman, and he met her eyes. "Never, ma'am," he replied.

Her face softened. A short pause followed, and then Maria allowed herself a breath of relief as her mother wrapped Michael in a tight embrace. "And thank you," Mrs. Deluca whispered, tears in her voice, "for saving my little girl."

Maria felt her heart warm as Michael returned the hug. "Thank YOU," he replied. "For giving me the little girl to save."

Maria watched the scene unfold, unable to keep the pleased smile off her face. But she didn't have much time for quiet reflection, as she soon found herself wrapped in a two way embrace again. This time, Liz and Alex. She tried her hardest to stretch her arms around them and hug back.

It was then that Dr. Peters chose to walk through the door. Her eyes were met with one of the strangest, if sweetest, sights she'd ever witnessed in her twenty years of practice. A strange young man in black clothing was hugging the mother of one of her patients, who suddenly seemed to no longer be ill, as she was sitting up in bed, having the stuffing hugged out of her by those two nice young people who had accompanied Mrs. Deluca to the hospital in the first place.

Dr. Peters cleared her throat, and all eyes turned to her.

"Excuse me," she said, "but I KNOW I've missed something. Would someone care to explain?"

******

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