PART 2: LETTING HER IN

Realizing something, Maria started to walk to Michael's bathroom. She changed her mind when she remembered that she wouldn't be able to see anything in Michael's grimy windows anyway. Michael had yet to learn the finer art of Windex. She thought it wouldn't hurt to take a look, and turned back around. Finally, she concluded that it didn't make a difference what she saw in the mirror. She was here and that was what was important.

"Come here, would you?" he requested, patting the cushions of his couch. "You're starting to make me nervous with all your pacing. Besides, I don't like you so far away." As soon as the last sentence popped out of his mouth, Michael wondered what oil Maria had used to make him spout such a cheesy line.

"Sometimes that can't be helped." Sadness seeped through her words.

That wasn't the response Michael was expecting. "Not if I can help it, Doc," he said, calling her by the nickname he gave her because of her M.D. initials. It usually got a smile out of her when he'd say it, but not this time. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I've learned my lesson. I might be a slow learner, but I know it now. I need you. Yes, call the press, Michael Guerin needs you. I know I don't always show it in the right ways--"

Maria's face brightened. "Like the shampoo debacle."

"I would like to say, for the record, that I'm moronic sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Maria chortled.

"Okay, enough of this make-fun-of-Michael moment." He poked her in the belly, making her giggle some more. "I'm spilling my guts here."

Maria put up a finger, signaling to hold on for a minute, and turned around. Her hands flew to her face, trying to stop her laughs. When she faced him again, she said, "I'll try, I swear." Maria held up two fingers, giving a Girl Scout's promise. She had never been a Girl Scout, but that was beside the point.

"I just wanted to make sure that you knew that I'm happy." He looked down at his hands. Embarrassment showing in his face. "You make me happy." He sneaked a look at her face. "Who would have thought that someone as tiny as yourself--a human, no less--could be strong enough to tear down my stone wall."

Her eyes sparkled from Michael's admission. "Michael, I hate to break it to you," she said, "but those walls of yours weren't as tough as you liked to believe. I just knew the right place to push." Her hand found its way to his thumping heart. "You know how pushy I can be when I set my mind on something I want. It may have taken a few more pushes--hard pushes, at that--than I would've like, but that wall wanted and needed to come down, and I wasn't going to give up until it did."

"You're my little bulldozer."

"Don't ever forget that I'm yours."

Michael placed his hand on her heart, so that he was mirroring Maria's position.

That's when the flashes came.

She saw him watching her, with daisies in her hair, as she skipped around the playground with Liz on his first day of school at Roswell Elementary. She felt his interest.

She saw the time that he had gotten the vision in Atherton's dome after she had told him to try again, this time with her right next to him. She felt his confidence build.

She saw his quick grin when she said that she would keep in mind that he liked things sweet and spicy. She felt his curiosity.

She saw their first kiss at the Crashdown. She felt his surprise and how it hadn't calmed him down.

She saw him staring at her through the Crashdown's window during the heat wave, and the steamy actions that followed. She felt his desire.

She saw their "kiss" in the circle when Michael had gotten sick. She felt his longing.

She saw the clock read four o'clock next to Michael as he built her a napkin holder. She felt his determination to make things right.

She saw him walking back and forth in the rain in front of her window until she had finally spotted him. She felt his need to be with someone who would comfort him when he cried.

She saw him purchasing an alien doll, which he named Spaceboy, at her mom's store for her birthday present. She felt his amusement.

She saw him after both times he had broken things off with her. She felt his sadness and regret.

She saw him opening her window to place a red rose and a note, which read, "Every time I run, I always end up back to you," on her widow sill, careful not to wake her as she slept on her tear-stained pillow. She felt his hope.

Her visions ceased after seeing half a dozen instances of him watching her from a distance with a smile on his face.

When Maria opened her eyes, she couldn't find the words to express what she had just felt. Maybe it was because she didn't need words. She just needed one:love. He could have been considered a stalker in nine states out of ten if anyone had ever caught him lurking in the shadows to watch her, but he was her stalker.

And she loved him.

And he loved her.

Continued next page...

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