Part 20 - Bloody Hands

Michael finally stopped running. He was out of breath, which was strange, since he was able to run miles without stopping the night when he was trying to reach Max before Hubble killed him. He understood now the strange sense of deja vu he'd felt then. He understood so many things now.

No, this pain wasn't so much physical as it was emotional. Well, you got the answers you wanted, didn't you? Now you know who you are. Tymrath. Michael Guerin. Rath. He shook his head and screamed. All his pain and grief poured out. The sound could be heard echoing across the desert.

Maria stopped where she was, listening to the sound. She shivered. Maybe going after Michael wasn't such a good idea after all. Don't be stupid, Maria. He needs you now just as much as he did that night in the rain. She kept going. There was no way she was going to let him be alone right now.

He crouched down on the ground, looking at his hands. He could feel them burning. They'd been burning ever since he remembered Vilandra's betrayal. He wanted so much to just let go, to start destroying everything around him. Maybe it wouldn't help, but maybe the release would make him feel better. Maybe he could release some of the pain inside him that way.

But who is it you really want to hurt? whispered that voice inside him. Yourself? Isabel? Max? Dagmar? Who?

"I don't know," he whispered.

Then he felt her. He looked up and saw Maria walking slowly towards him. She stopped. Michael jumped to his feet and started towards her. Then he stopped, shocked at himself. For a minute, all he had been able to think about was grabbing her and losing himself in her kisses. But he couldn't do that. He stepped back, ignoring the look of pain in her eyes. After all, he'd seen it before. He continued to back away, whispering hoarsely, "Keep away from me."

Maria nodded, unable to take her eyes off his. Inside, she felt so alone. Why was he backing away? Didn't he know that he was too far away, that she needed him? Something had changed between them that day. Everytime she saw him, she had this almost overwhelming desire to run up and touch him. She was used to wanting Michael, but this was different. She could barely keep breathing normally. Not to mention how hard it was to think about anything other than how much she wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to feel his arms around her. Pull yourself together, she told herself angrily. There are more important things going on right now than sucking face.

She kept her voice low and soothing. "All right, Michael. I won't come any closer. But you need to talk to me."

"Why?"

She stopped for a minute, thinking. "Because you can't keep all this inside you. Because it'll tear you up if you do. And because you can tell me anything." He seemed to stop short at that last. "You know you can, Michael."

"Don't call me that."

"What? Michael?" She took a step forward before she even realized she was doing it. He didn't move back. "It's your name. Michael Guerin. Why shouldn't I call you by your name?"

"I don't even know which name I should be called now. I don't know who I am anymore." Even though he was trying to keep his voice level, Maria could hear the little tremble.

"You're Michael Guerin. You're the same guy who wore a stupid wrestling costume and let himself get tossed around in order to keep my mom from losing all her money. You're the same guy who risked his life to get Max out of the White Room. You're the same guy who has risked his life more times than I can count to protect us all. You're the same guy who helped save Laurie from the Gendarium and her family. You're the same guy who took us all on a trip to Las Vegas and made my dream come true." With each sentence, Maria took another tentative step forward. His response stopped her cold.

"I'm the same guy who killed Agent Pierce." Michael was no longer looking at her.

Maria was frightened. As long as he was looking at her, things were okay. The moment they lost eye contact, though, she felt like she was losing him to his past. "You had to kill Pierce. He would have killed us all, Michael. Me, Max, Isabel, Valenti. All of us. You didn't do it because you wanted to."

"Yes, I did. That's what you've never understood Maria. I did want to." He took a deep breath. "I saw him pull his gun and start to shoot. I threw myself in front of him. I looked at him and I hated him, Maria. I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone. He was the enemy. Do you understand?" He looked at Maria then, but it didn't make her feel any better. His eyes were cold and dead. "That's how I saw him. The enemy. And I knew that I could kill him. I just knew that I could. I didn't think about disarming him or trying to wound him. I just thought about how much better it would be if he was dead. So much more permanent than trying to lock him away somewhere." He looked at the ground again. "He knew what I was going to do. Right before I raised my hand, he looked at me and mouthed 'no'." And I thought, yes, you bastard. You dared hurt Max and threaten us? There is no way I am ever going to give you a chance near any of us again. "And then I killed him." I listened to the sound his body made as it hit the wall. I felt the release of all my anger and hate. It just flowed out, so easily. So naturally. "It's what I'm good at, after all. I'm the killer, Maria. I'm the one who protects the others. And I protect them by killing the enemy. Just like Nasedo."

"Enough!" Maria burst out. "You're nothing like Nasedo. He enjoyed killing. You killed one evil man, and if you hadn't, Valenti and the rest of us would be dead in his place. Stop torturing yourself over Pierce, Michael."

Michael shook his head. "Weren't you listening? I can't even remember how many lives I've taken." He held out his hands in front of her. "Do you have any idea of how much blood I have on these hands?"

Maria reached out to take his hands, but he jerked them away and stepped back, out of her reach. She tried again. "That wasn't you, Michael. That was someone else, a long time ago. Do you blame Isabel for what Vilandra did?"

"No."

"Then you shouldn't hold yourself responsible for what Tymrath did. You aren't like him."

Michael looked away. "Did you ever wonder why I let Hank hit me all those years? Why I didn't fight back?" When she didn't answer, he went on. "I used to think about it at night when I tried to sleep. I used to fantasize about fighting back, about stopping him from hurting me anymore. I could have, you know. It would have been easy, even then." He took a deep breath. "The reason I never fought back is because I knew that if I did, I would kill him. I used to dream about killing Hank and being free. So I couldn't even try anything, because I knew how it would end." Michael looked down at her as if for understanding. "So I am like him, deep down inside."

"Michael, I'm sure that anybody in your position would think that way. But what's important is that you didn't do anything."

"No, I let my fear stop me. Besides, I guess I knew that I deserved it. It was my punishment."

"No, Michael. You didn't deserve it."

"Yes, I did." He held up his hands again. "I killed her, Maria. I killed her." He started to pace back and forth. "Life was so simple back then. If I wanted something, I found a way to get it. What I did didn't bother me at all. I enjoyed winning." He stopped and that chilling smile reappeared on his lips. "Yeah, I enjoyed that. I think I liked the challenge most of all. Zandar would give me these impossible missions to pull off. It was almost like a game for us. And I always found a way to do it." He stopped walking. "I would have given my own life in a heartbeat in order to protect any of them. Zandar. Vilandra. Aveen. But I failed. I failed, Maria. And Aveen died. And Zandar died. And I killed Vilandra myself."

Maria just stood there, speechless. What could she say to make him feel any better?

"I remember killing her. It's so vivid in my memory. I did it because Zandar ordered it. After what I had cost him, how could I refuse? But I also did it because I wanted to." Maria started to turn away, but Michael moved ( so fast, she thought in amazement, he's so fast) and grabbed her arms. "No, you need to listen."

"Michael, let go. You're hurting me." She struggled, but his hold didn't lessen even a little.

He didn't release her arms. "You need to listen to this. You need to understand. I wanted to kill her. I loved her with everything I had and I hated her with everything I had. And I wanted her dead for betraying us with a laugh." He dropped his hands. Maria took a quick step back, rubbing her arms. "I wanted her dead and she was dead. I wanted the Skins who opposed Zandar dead, and they were. I wanted Pierce dead, and he was dead. All those years, I loved Hank. He was my father. I wanted so much for him to say, just once, that he loved me or that he was proud of me." Maria's eyes started to fill up with tears. She understood that pain so well herself. "But I hated him, too. And I never once fought back or tried to stop the beatings because I knew that I deserved them. I had to atone for my sins. I knew that I must have done something bad to be left with Hank. And I was right." Michael took a deep breath, as if he was gathering his courage, and continued. "This afternoon, I wanted Brody dead. It surprised me how much. I hadn't felt that way since Pierce. I was afraid that he was going to take you away from me, and I wanted him dead before he could do that." He looked at Maria. "Please, listen. What if I ever get angry enough to want you dead? I couldn't bear to hurt you, too."

She was caught totally off-guard. "You could never hurt someone you loved, Michael."

"I did more than hurt Vilandra."

"That wasn't you. That was Tymrath." Now it was Maria's turn to reach out. She put her hands on his head, and made him look her in the eyes as she spoke. She felt that tingle again, but forced herself to ignore it. "You aren't the same person you were. You and Max and Isabel were sent here for a second chance. You were sent here to try and not make the same mistakes again."

"Dagmar was right. We're all the same as we always were," Michael whispered.

"Maybe that's true. Maybe you are the same at some fundamental level. But let's think about that, spaceboy. What did you learn tonight about Tymrath? He was loyal to his family. He was brave and willing to risk himself to protect those he loved. He was smart and resourceful. These are good things. And you, Michael Guerin, are all of those things, too. And you've learned some wisdom in this life that you didn't have before."

She was pleased to see a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What wisdom?"

"You've learned that violence isn't always the answer." Maria tried to smile. "While I might hate Hank with everything I have, he did teach you that much." She ran her thumb over his lips. "You're the gentlest soul I know, Michael. You take care of the people you love. I can't recall you ever, ever, lashing out with violence. And no, we're not going to bring up Pierce again. You had no choice. Do we agree on that?" Michael nodded. He felt like he was in a daze. All he could concentrate on was Maria. He had a suspicion that if he looked away from her, he would fall and never land. So he kept looking at her. "Instead, let's think about the fact that you didn't kill Brody. You stopped yourself. Would Tymrath have done that?" Michael shook his head silently. "I didn't think so. Besides, you've been majorly ticked with me lots of times. Have you ever wanted to kill me?"

"No," he whispered. He couldn't seem to stop staring at her lips as she was talking. Maria noticed this, and went on quickly, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.

"No. You saved me. If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead right now. You're not him, spaceboy. You're not. You've walked so far in this world, a world he knew nothing about. You've learned lessons that he never learned. You can take the good of Tymrath if you want, but you've learned to discard the stuff you don't want. You're not him."

"I'm not him." Michael repeated the words quietly. "I'm not him," he said in a stronger voice, as if he was actually starting to believe them.

"Good," Maria said. She was starting to have a hard time thinking straight. It was a good thing that she had already made her point. Did he usually stare at her quite so intently? She didn't think so. Flustered, she took her hands from his face, and tried to step back, but he grabbed her hands in his. His eyes never left hers. "Um, do you feel better now?"

"Much better," he agreed in a low voice. He was gently tracing patterns on her palms with his thumbs. His voice sent shivers up and down her spine.

Okay, this was getting strange. Since when did she feel this nervous in Michael's presence? Especially when all they were doing was holding hands. Still, she was. "Umm, do you remember everything about your past life?"

"Not everything," he said absently. One hand had left hers, and was now pushing back a strand of her hair. "Some of it is still blurry, but I remember the end clearly."

His hand had ventured down to her neck by then. Maria felt the same ache she had felt earlier. She needed something then. What, she wasn't sure. But there was something definitely missing. She moved closer to Michael. "Do you think things will be okay with Max and Isabel?"

"Definitely." Michael leaned forward and kissed her neck. She closed her eyes. "We're family. We'll work it out."

"Good." To be honest, Maria had lost track of what they were talking about. She felt the vibrations his words made against her skin. "Michael, maybe we should be going back inside."

One hand went around her waist, while the other tilted her head up for a kiss. Maria relaxed and let herself go. Michael was gentle, but confident. She could feel his hand reaching under her shirt. She pressed closer to him. This was what she needed. She needed to be close to him.

The kiss ended. Michael leaned back to whisper. "Shush, Maria."

"Okay." She couldn't remember what it was she had been about to say anyway. This time, his kiss was more insistent. She reached up and laced her hands behind his head, pulling him even closer to her.

Michael didn't ever want to stop. This was what he had been needing all day - to be close to Maria. He couldn't stop kissing her. His hands found their way to the front of her shirt, and he started to unbutton it. He needed to touch her, not her shirt. It was just in the way.

She pushed him away from her. He looked at her in surprise and reached out to pull her back. "Wait," she said, as she pulled his shirt off over his head. Running her hands over his chest, she pulled him back to her. Much better.

Michael pulled Maria with him to the ground. With their shirts off, only Maria's bra kept their bodies from touching completely. He pulled her on top of him, and looked up at her face. "Teel-sharan," he whispered.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, 'beloved'," he said with a smile. He reached out and traced her lips with one finger. She closed her eyes and kissed it. "Meilyas-sivar."

"And what does that mean?" she asked smilingly.

Michael rolled over so that he was on top of her. "It means, 'Mine'."

Maria thought about it, then pulled him down for another kiss. As he leaned into her, she said to him, "Meilyas-sivar."

Michael laughed.

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