Rating: PG

Spoilers: Up to, and including "The Convention"

Summary: The creek is a quiet place for contemplation and confession.

Disclaimer: None of these people are mine, dang it.

Dedicated to my Beloved.

***

Walking down the scrubby bank of Berrando Creek, Maria DeLuca kept her eyes on the ground, the blocked tips of her boots scuffing through powder dust and crunching over stick-dry shrubbery. If she turned her head, she could see the city lights glowing a little on the southern horizon, but she preferred to keep her sights and mind on her surroundings. The thin creek hushed through the earth, and the few trees scratched back a reply with crisp leaves. It wasn't an especially pretty place, but in the dark, it could be pleasant, and even though it was only a fifteen minute drive from downtown Roswell, it seemed like it was a million miles away from anywhere.

Maria pulled the string of Chinese good luck beads over her wrist until they wrapped neatly around her hand. Rubbing the warm, smooth wood with her thumb, she started counting her breaths. In through the nose, one, out through the mouth, two, she could feel her long day start to ease out of her.

As days go, it hadn't been especially bad, but she'd woken up tense and stayed that way. Every time she'd seen Liz gazing balefully across the hallway, she'd barely resisted the urge to take her friend by the shoulders and shake her hard.

It was just as bad at work- Max and Michael had come in together, and Liz had nearly dumped a bus tray down the front of her uniform watching them. Maria didn't understand why they- he, Max, kept coming in there. It wasn't like the Crashdown was the only cheap restaurant in town. It seemed like the harder she tried to convince Liz it was time to move on, the harder Liz fought to hold on. And to what, Maria wondered scathingly. The memory of a couple of weeks of sexual tension, and a couple of really good make out sessions?

Okay, excellent make out sessions, she admitted to herself, kicking a rocking in her path. It skittered forward, leaving a speckled trail in the dust. Leaning over, she picked the rock up, turning on her heel to put it back. She wouldn't ever say it out loud, but she didn't like to disturb the natural order of things at Berrando Creek. It was sort of sacred, and she liked to leave it exactly the way she found it.

Crouching down, she tilted her head and examined the dry earth until she found the rock's home, putting it back with a gentle pat. She started to fill in the grooves it had dug when she kicked it, but when she glanced up, she found herself staring at a pair of loosely laced tennis shoes. Eyes following up baggy pants and a too-tight pullover, she groaned and rolled her eyes.

"What are you doing," Michael asked, his voice low and scathing. His mouth was pulled half-way between a smirk and a sneer, staring through her.

Maria exhaled a disgusted sigh, quickly brushing her hand over the ground to fill the pits, then stood up. Smacking her hand off on her pants, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms sternly over her chest. "Are you following me? Because if you are..."

With a snort, Michael shook his head dismissively, cutting her off. "Why would I be following you?"

"I don't know," Maria shot back. "Because you're creepy?"

Michael didn't even bother to temper his contempt. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." Brushing past her, he didn't apologize when he bumped into her. In fact, he didn't even look back. He was good at that.

Maria turned around, watching him walk away, staring at him in amazement. She couldn't fathom what she'd ever liked about him. Well, except for his soft hands. And how gentle he could be, if he wanted to. The otherworldly kisses didn't hurt, either. Despite that, she wasn't going to let this trespass go unprotested. Berrando Creek was her private place, her sanctuary from the real world. Cute or not, he was definitely part of the universe she was trying to avoid. "You can't be here."

He'd already walked far enough to shroud himself in distance and darkness, but his voice carried quite well. "Too late."

"No, it's not too late," she frowned, snapping the beads back around her wrist and starting after him. It took her a moment to catch up with him, but his slow, loping gait made sure she wouldn't be left behind. Stepping in front of him quickly, she put out a hand, pressing it into the middle of his chest. She could feel his heart beat under her palm. "You can turn around, right now."

Flattening one brow, his expression bewildered, he plucked her hand away from his chest as if it were a bug. Large, strong fingers wrapped around her delicate ones, warm and firm, holding on just long enough to leave their trace when he let go. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because this is my place," she explained, very reasonably. At least, it was reasonable to her. She didn't even notice the way her voice leapt up a few notes, the first, sure sign that she was irritated.

Michael tilted his head, pursing his lips and shaking his head in insincere apology. His expression was cool and placid, with dark eyes that took everything in but reflected nothing back. "Not anymore."

Watching Maria's face with hidden fascination, Michael could almost feel the shrill, nasal tones of her contemptuous reply on his skin. Truthfully, he didn't even hear what she said, but he could tell by the way set her jaw forward and narrowed her eyes that "not anymore" was not the answer she'd wanted to hear. When her full lips finally stopped moving, he rolled his shoulders with another shrug. "Too bad, I'm here. Get used to it."

He was amazed by the myriad of expressions that crossed her heart-shaped face. Her dusky eyes flashed with dark fire, her upper lip quivered in outrage, her perfect slash eyebrows leapt up and down in time with her fury. For what he could remember of his life, she was the most animated person he'd ever met. From the curling and uncurling of her fingers when she talked, to the way her body always swayed with subtle meter, she was always moving, completely alive. Like lightning or wildfire, there was no containing Maria's crackling energy.

That's what got him into trouble. He was content with what he was, different. Not human. Max and Isabel had always been enough to fill up his odd moments of loneliness. They were good together, locking together in an intricate triad no one else could possibly understand. For the longest time, he'd felt nothing but resentment at the bland creatures that represented the 'them' in us versus them. Michael watched them move around with undisguised pity, wondering how they could stand their own, mundane company.

At least, until Max had decided to play hero. It was never any secret that Max had the hots for Liz among the three of them, but that day in the Crashdown had changed everything. Max and Liz thought they were the only ones who'd felt anything, but they were wrong. Puzzle pieces locked together for a reason, they shared borders and edges, and when put together, they created a whole. Michael could feel Max's terror that day, and he'd felt the same kicked-in- the-chest breathless shock when Max and Liz suddenly crashed into intimacy.

The bleed-through lasted long enough for to give Michael a taste of passion. Borrowed or not, it was interesting. A faltered breath here, a pounding pulse there, it had a power of its own, and he wanted to learn to wield it. He discovered that, with a mumbled admission of envy, he could make Liz cast down her eyes. The faint flicker of energy that came with her simple response of feeling good for being complimented was nice, but it didn't compare to the constant current that ran through her when she looked at Max.

Then came Maria. Fruity, new-agey, incredibly annoying Maria, with her bottles of essential oils, and mercurial temper, who exuded passion every time she took a breath. It didn't matter that it wasn't directed at him, he could easily draw from her frenetic, ever-present hum. When he looked down the crowded hallways of Roswell High, his secretive eyes saw plain faces, always shadowed, but Maria was a beacon. There was no mistaking her, and no ignoring her.

Michael knew he shouldn't have done it, but when he discovered a well-placed quip or taunt could make her flare up, he couldn't resist getting in an occasional jab. It felt good to stand in the path of her storm, it was addictive. He was smarter than Max, though- at least he thought he had been. He'd been hiding inside his own skin for so long, that it was easy to keep Maria at arm's length for a while. Jeers and gibes were enough to feed his addiction, until he made the mistake of actually spending time alone with her.

Mocking arguments that ended with a quick parting of ways were mere spring showers compared to the onslaught of all her emotions bared at once. He thought he would drown in her tears, burn to ashes under her anger, and split into a million pieces when he felt... the other. He didn't want to name it, but when she stopped bitching long enough to reach out, he felt it- that same crushed chest feeling of dizzy weightlessness Max felt when he looked at Liz. Only having tasted it on the periphery, Michael was sure he could master and control it. When Maria looked, not at him, but into him, that's when he realized he'd been a complete and total idiot.

There was only one place to go from there, and that was away. No matter what he wanted, no matter how amazing her mouth felt parting against his own, no matter how much he wanted to surround himself in her touch and scent, he resolved to stop it. He could look at the wake of destruction Max left in his path trying to get closer to Liz, and he could count the mistakes as they accumulated like so much sand in the base of an hourglass. Michael was determined to survive, and to be strong enough to make sure Max and Isabel did, too. All the feelings in the universe wouldn't help them if they were dead.

"Well, I'm not leaving," Maria announced to his stone expression, looking around for somewhere to sit, finally lighting on a downed tree. Usually, it was easier to just back away from him, but that wasn't going to happen tonight. Not in her special place, not for anybody. That didn't stop her from stealing glances at him, though. Sure, he was a jerk, but that didn't make his strong, angular features any less attractive. If she was stuck with him, she was at least going to very quietly enjoy the eye candy.

Surveying the area, Michael flopped to the ground. Dust puffed up around him, leaving a milky haze on his leather jacket. Propping his elbows on his knees and fixing his gaze out at the creek, he sank into his surroundings. The night air was cool, and close to the water it, tasted sweet. Every so often, a faint breeze would wash the spicy, sandalwood scent of Maria's skin in his direction. Mud, he thought to himself, trying to ignore the pulsing fever of her irritation. "Me either."

They were quiet for a long moment, surrounded in the whispers of the creek and the husky murmur of the breeze. The cool darkness erased grudges and stubbornness, the seclusion stealthily healing the rift between them, at least temporarily. Shifting subtly, Michael rolled out to lie back, using his arm for a pillow. His jacket squeaked as he moved, and the ground grated under the soles of his shoes. Stretched out on the ground, his pullover clung to rise and fall of his chest, and he looked almost ethereal.

Watching him from the corner of her eyes, Maria straightened her legs and crossed them at the ankles. They'd never been quiet together before, not this kind of pleasant, truce-like silence. It was okay to miss him here, she decided. Even though he'd hurt her, despite the way he could shut down with an icy stare, she knew that he was just as confused as she was. She hesitated before she opened her mouth, wondering briefly if talking to him would ruin the moment. Talking was usually what screwed them up. "Do you come out here a lot?"

Michael shook his head faintly, scratching his fingers through his unruly hair. "No."

"What was so special about tonight?" Maria winced at the thin intrusion of sarcasm in her voice. To her surprise, he didn't fire back a sharp retort. He actually seemed to think it over, and she melted a little when he turned his head to look at her.

"It just seemed... right."

Brows raising slightly, she smoothed her hands over her own knees, warming her palms on the rough fabric ofher pants. "Oh."

The barest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He could feel her confusion, and her simple exclamation amused him. She tried so hard to be casual with him, but she couldn't hide an emotional purity like hers. It was too strong, too vibrant to be dimmed. That was what he lo... Michael cut off the thought, taking a deep breath. There was smart, and there was noble, and then there was him- too close to her to resist, far enough from town that it seemed harmless. Pushing up on one elbow, he tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Are you cold?" Somehow, he made it sound like an accusation.

"Not really," she shrugged, casting her gaze away.

Sitting up a little more, he draped his arms over his knees. "You look cold."

Jeez, what was with him, she wondered, pulling her legs closer to her body. Now that she thought about it, she as cold. Probably some Czechoslovakian mind trick. Reaching up to rub the back of her neck, she looked past him and denied it again. "I'm fine. Really."

Michael sighed with feigned frustration, standing up and trudging over to her. It was an act, from beginning to finish. He wanted to be closer, but he couldn't just come out and say that. He couldn't even admit it to himself, entirely. It was easier all around to pretend he was irritated by her stubbornness. Shrugging out of his jacket, he draped it unceremoniously around her shoulders, then dropped to sit next to her. "You're cold," he insisted, leaning back against the tree.

What little reserve Maria had left melted. Suddenly, she found herself surrounded in his warmth, in his musky, leathery scent, and she closed her eyes against a wave of nostalgia. She was determined not to make anything of this. He'd probably take the coat back two minutes from now, just to be a jerk. Sliding down to sit next to him on the ground, she looked over. "Thanks."

"Sure," he murmured. He could feel her eyes tracing his features, her warmth seeping into his side. She was so real, he marveled. So alive. His throat grew tight and his breath faltered. It was too late to distract himself now, his heart was already beating hard, and he happily sank into the intoxicating oblivion of the moment. With casual ease, he slipped his arm around her shoulder, explaining the kindness away. "You're still shivering."

Curling into him, Maria laughed softly. Emotions cascaded over her, tingling in her palms and feet as a slight blush rose to her cheeks. He was warmer than she remembered, and softer. She soared each time he tightened his fingers against her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. If it didn't last, it didn't last. At that moment, she just wanted him to hold her. "Okay, if you say so."

"Listen, this doesn't mean anything," Michael said softly, his voice cracking a bit. He felt like he had to warn her. He'd broken her heart once, and it was the ugliest, emptiest thing he'd ever done, no matter how necessary. He knew he was selfish, and that he should stay away. It was easier to give her a disclaimer than to pull away from her vivid, rolling emotions, to completely deny his own, overwhelming desires. Somewhere inside, a tiny part of himself admitted he needed her. "If you're looking for love..."

Maria smiled up at him, as she pressed a little closer, reaching over to lace her fingers with his. "Oh, believe me, I already know you're all the wrong places."

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