“Kyle, we’ve got a problem.”

Kyle looked at Hanson. No shit. It was already four a.m., and they were still processing the scene. Canine units were ordered to help search the woods. It was determined that before the car blew, that the driver’s window in the door was broken. It looked like the owner, Maria DeLuca couldn’t get out. The tumble down the hill had crushed her door, and she used something to break the window, probably just as the flames started.

“What’s the problem?” More than likely his dad, who wasn’t happy with having his evening cut short, but even unhappier at having an issue like a lost woman on his plate at this time of night. An extensive search could run up the PD’s flagging budget, but the thought of a young woman lost was more than any of them wanted to contemplate.

Hanson pointed at the top of the embankment. A man in a dark suit and long overcoat was surveying the damage. “Something tells me Fed.”

Kyle cussed and slowly climbed the hill. The case was his since he was the first officer called to the scene, even though Hanson had beaten him there. Jim had left to go to the PD and work on finding more information about the victim, and to get the lab people hopping on the bullets retrieved from the car’s doors and rear panel. Ballistics alone was going to take some time.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you the officer in charge on site?”

Kyle nodded. “That would be me. Valenti. Kyle Valenti.”

“Sheriff? I was told the Sheriff was Valenti.”

“Deputy. The Sheriff would be my father. And you are...?”

“Special Agent Burns.” The man flipped out his credentials.

Kyle examined the badge. And returned it to the Special Agent. “Agent Burns...”

“Special Agent.”

Kyle paused. Okay. “Burns. As I was saying, I can’t see what your interest is in this case.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said rudely, but smiled to soften the blow. “My supervisor should be calling your fath...Sheriff with details. Basically, I’m looking for one Maria DeLuca.”

“I see. Well currently Ms. DeLuca is missing. That’s her car, but she is strangely missing.”

“We need to find her, and quick.”

“We are awaiting a special canine team from Albuquerque. They were on another assignment. Meanwhile we were going to begin a foot search. From all indications the woman was wounded, and she could be in the woods somewhere bleeding.” Kyle looked at the man. “What exactly is your interest in Maria DeLuca, and how did you know to show up here?”

“When you ran her license plates it triggered a hit on our net. Maria DeLuca is a potential witness to a crime. I can’t go into details, but if I don’t find her alive my case goes south, and more people than you can imagine will suffer.”

“Potential witness?” Kyle’s eyes narrowed as Hanson came to join them. He too had heard the tail end of the discussion. Kyle’s eyes met and Hanson’s, he was glad to see suspicion in them as well. “So she’s not really a witness. Just someone you need to question.”

“Wanted for questioning, but from the gravity of the situation, I’d say that it’s obvious that Ms. DeLuca saw something. Why else would people be so intent on killing her?”

Point taken. Kyle just shrugged. “We’ll keep you apprised, Special Agent. If you’d like, you could set up shop at the PD and get breaking news as it comes available. You being in the field is not authorized or cleared by the Sheriff. So I’ll have to ask you to back off the crime scene.”

Burns did. Both Kyle and Hanson watched the man get back into his standard dark sedan, and leave. Hanson just calmly took out his radio transmitter. “Dispatch. Can you patch me through to the Sheriff?”

Kyle looked at Hanson. “I don’t trust him.”

Hanson nodded as he waited for them to contact the Sheriff. “Me either.”

~~~

Michael sat staring at her. She was still out. He gave her some water and sort of washed her face. The features under the bruises, blood and swelling were surprisingly striking, beautiful, delicate...except the lips. They looked bee stung in their fullness. To his amazement and irritation, he hoped that was how they really were, and not just swollen. She looked like she had been in an accident in addition to a run-in with an alien and his blasting powers.

Covering her up with an afghan, he sat down to watch her. This was a complication.

~~~

Burns stopped not far from the site and took out a map. Making a quick call, he lined up men to help him out. They didn’t have much time. Marking out all the access areas around the new wooded developments, he started his search.

Sooner or later she would emerge from the woods, and someone in the area had to see her. He had already checked the hospitals in the region, both in Roswell and Las Cruces, and all smaller community ones along the way. Nothing. Stationing men around the woods, he assigned them locations. It was time to knock on some doors.

~~~

It was dark. Her pulse raced. She was blind. Slowly, she moaned as she turned and opened her eyes. No. She had her eyes shut. It hurt. The light hurt, and for a moment her head swam as the nausea rose in her throat. It wasn’t even the light in the room. Just a room with large windows and a skylight letting in the early morning dawn. Turning her head she saw him.

Sleeping. His long frame was reclined in a chair with his legs sprawled out and his arms lightly crossing his chest as he slept. He looked young and not so mean. She remembered him. He was all she remembered. Frowning, her hand came up to touch her cheek on the left side of her face. Her jaw hurt, but her hands hurt more. She studied them, trying to remember. He must have wrapped them. Staring at her hands wrapped in white gauze, she felt a need to cry. Oh god. Hands.

“They were pretty bad. Cuts. Lots of cuts. Nothing too deep.” He lied. Her panic over her hands had him lie, to keep her calm. They were bad, real bad. She looked at him. His voice was low, almost even-toned, like he was afraid of frightening her again. “I cleaned them and wrapped them. I should’ve taken you to the hospital, and now you’re awake, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Michael watched as her eyes grew in size. Fear. He could taste it. It was a familiar friend. Something he tasted in his own throat enough as a child. It had that bitter taste of bile. Sighing, he waited. She was obviously in shock and in no condition to make decisions for herself. She had yet to talk.

“Do you want to go?”

She shook her head no and pulled the afghan closer to herself, making her body even smaller if that seemed possible. Michael sat up. It didn’t escape his notice that she cringed. Reaching down beside his chair, he picked up a carafe of water. Taking the glass he used earlier to try to feed her water, he poured some into it. Moving slowly, he approached her with care, almost like approaching a skittish horse. Finally sitting next to her, he helped her drink some water.

“I don’t know what happened to you. Or even who you are. Best I can tell is that you were in an accident, you came through the woods, and I found you outside my house.” Michael spoke slowly and softly, even watching her take small sips from the glass. “I can understand not wanting to go to the hospital. But they can take better care of you, better than I can. And you might have family looking for you.”

She just shook her head no. He could see the wild uncontrolled fear in her eyes sparking to life. Sitting close to her, he was reading things off her again. Flashes that made no sense. But they had a taste of anxiety and fear, the panic of flight, and a desperation. He saw flames rising, and his heart was beating in his chest like a trapped bird. Panic. Panic. Run. Run. Run. Hide.

Controlling his breathing, he tried to not let her see his reaction. “At least tell me your name.”

Michael fidgeted as her confused wavering green eyes flooded with tears and pain. “I don’t know.”

Closing his eyes, he ran his hands through his hair. No. Fucking. Way. Amnesia? That only happened on soap operas. Bad ones. Which basically meant the entire frickin’ genre. “Great.” Well except for Passions. That was its own art form, plus that little Timmy was so worrisome.

“Maria.” Michael looked up sharply, at her small voice. “I think my name is Maria.”

“Last name with that?”

“It’s not like asking me if I want fries! I don’t know. I think...I think...” Maria paused. She felt it there on the tip of her tongue, just barely tangible, but she could taste it. Her last name. Why couldn’t she remember? “I don’t know.”

“Well you are definitely in need of medical assistance. Obviously your egg got cracked and scrambled.”

Maria was on the verge of retaliating to that, when a knock came at the door. Her small voice rose in fright, but he quickly covered her mouth. It was there again. The need to run and hide. The fright. It covered his senses like a red blanket…harsh and real. Maria was out from under his hand and on her feet to run away. One minute she was standing, the next she was wavering on her feet.

Michael grabbed her close, and put his arms around her to keep for from falling. Motioning her to be quiet, he led her to the door. It had to be Isabel or Max. They were the only ones who felt the need to bother him. Putting her behind the door, he opened it to a man in a suit with a trench coat.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir.”

“Then don’t.” Michael went to shut the door. But the man’s hand stopped him.

“Sorry I must. This is an urgent matter.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed and his face became blank. “Urgent for you or for me?”

“Actually for me. I was...”

“Then, I’m not interested in what you’re selling. Peddle it up the street and get off my property.”

The man’s foot came over the doorjamb, and stopped the door from slamming shut. “I’m Special Agent Burns, FBI.”

Michael's own heart joined Maria’s in a fluttering of fright, but he quickly controlled it and feigned boredom. “And I care, why?”

“There was an accident.” Michael looked at the man in a gesture of irritation, almost telling him to speed it up. “A woman is missing. Suspected wounded.”

“She must be important if the yokel constable calls in the Feds.”

“Actually, yes she is very important.”

Michael looked ready to fall asleep. “And you want what?”

Burns took out a picture. A picture of Michael’s mystery guest. She was fucking gorgeous! He had already assessed that while watching her sleep, but the picture showed her without the blood and bruising. Without the fear and anxiety. She was a beautiful young woman, full of life, her eyes literally twinkled with excitement and the wonders of living. And her lips were still bee stung.

“Ever seen this woman?”

Michael shook his head. Honestly he could say no. The woman hiding and shaking behind his door was a far cry from the woman in that picture. Looking at the Agent...Special Agent under his lashes, an age old distrust of authority, and especially a fear of ‘Men in Black’ rose in his throat. No way in hell was he turning her over to this man.

“Is she dangerous?” Michael felt rather than saw Maria’s reaction to that question. His hand shot out behind the door to cover her mouth before she gave herself away. “Should I be concerned?”

“Hardly. She is a witness, wanted for questioning.”

“Good to know. Well, if that is all, Agent...I think my patience and time has been tried enough. I’ll personally make sure not to shoot anything entering my property for the next few days.”

Burns looked at the young man. Belligerent. Unkempt. He looked like he slept in his clothes, but the property was nice, a nice house, and well kept. “This your folk’s place, Mr…?”

Michael ignored the prompt of his name. “I don’t have any parents.” Michael made a gesture to shut the door again.

“Wait! My card.”

Michael reluctantly took the card. “If you find her, see her, or even just hear your neighbors talk about her...call me.”

“I don’t talk to my neighbors. That’s why I bought five acres.” Michael took the card and smirked at the man. Kicking his foot so the shoe was no longer in his doorway, Michael slammed the door shut. He stood there silently gazing into Maria’s eyes, neither of them speaking, just waiting for the sound of the car leaving.

As soon as the sound of the engine had receded, Maria’s whole body seemed to slump. Michael quickly caught her before she hit the floor. “Whoa there.”

Picking her up, he took her back to the sofa. Covering her up, he paced his living room. Protect her. Keep her from Burns. It felt like an instinct. But it couldn’t be. He didn’t even know this chick. Obviously she was into something…something big. Probably a mobster’s squeeze, or some high profile’s main side dish, or...

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.” Another negative thing about women. They always wanted to know what the heck was going on in his brain. Most of the time, he didn’t even know. But FBI at his house? She had to go.

“Umm, can I know your name?”

No. Michael looked at her and shrugged. Yeah, whatever. “Michael. Michael Guerin .”

“I’m...”

“Maria. Yeah, I know.”

“I was going to say…thankful that you didn’t turn me over to that man.”

Michael just acknowledged her thanks. She shouldn’t thank him too much. He was going to dump her ass, a.s.a.p. He looked at her large green eyes, so full of trust and gratitude. Okay, after he fed her. Michael rushed off to the kitchen to get away from her. She was too softspoken. She seemed to have to make an effort to talk. And somehow she made him...

Nothing. It was nothing.

Michael searched his cabinets. Still short on food. Invalid food. What the hell was invalid food? Jello. He didn’t do jello. But those little packs of pudding were real tasty, but he didn’t have any. Finally, he settled for a cup of chicken broth, some crackers, and a small sandwich of some kind of luncheon meat. It might have been turkey. Okay, that’d keep her mouth shut. He’d kill her of botulism.

Michael watched every bite entering her mouth. He had to. She couldn’t hold the spoon. Her hands were too cut up. So he fed her. She was exhausted with the effort and only managed a little of the broth, no crackers, and - perhaps for the best - no sandwich.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No!” Her wrapped hand touched him, imploring him.

“I’ve got to. You’re probably concussed, definitely in shock, and I can’t return you to your people. I need to know who they are first.” Michael could see her rising panic again, and he framed her swollen face. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. The cops and medical doctors will protect you.”

She didn’t believe him. He didn’t believe him either. Michael had never trusted authority figures in his entire life, and he wasn’t starting now. But she had to go so his nice quiet organized life could return to its even keel. Already, she had him acting strange, uncharacteristic.

“Your hands. I can’t fix them. They might need stitches, and there could be damage.”

Maria just looked down at the covers. “I’m scared.”

“It’ll be okay. I promise.”

~~~

Max checked the display before opening. He was late to work that morning. Staying at Liz’s was okay, but he needed a change of clothes, so he spent his morning rushing about. They decided to move his stuff this weekend, and if his mother and sister didn’t get over their planning stage soon, he was taking Liz to Las Vegas. A wedding at an Elvis Chapel sounded like heaven to him. As long as Liz was there to say ‘I do’ in the appropriate places.

Isabel entered the building and walked down the aisles sneering at the alien memorabilia. Insulting. Rude. Laughable. Her eyes weren’t that bug-eyed.

“Isabel, whatcha doing here?”

“Looking for you. Since you’re taking a page out of the Michael Guerin book of ‘I Ignore My Answering Machine!’ I tracked you down. What the heck do you two think answering machines are for?”

“Sorry. I slept at Liz’s last night, and didn’t check the machine when I went home to change. So what’s the problem?” Max waited for it. Michael. It was always Michael.

“Mom.” Max’s eyebrow went up. An alternative possibility.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

“She wants to know why Michael hasn’t shown up for the fittings for his tux.” Max just shook his head. Great. So it was Michael, again. “I told her you’d take care of it.”

“Me?”

“Well, you’re talking to him anyway. So while there, take him for a walk. Don’t stop, just go straight to Bergman’s Apparel for Men shop. Tempt him with a greasy cheeseburger or something. Men in Blackberry pie with Tabasco? Anything. Anything to get Mom off her Michael rant. I beg you.”

Max nodded.

Isabel made a quick tick of her head, as if she was scratching off an item on her mental list. Happy with her morning's work, she raised her hand and was out the door. Max started to talk, but stopped. What to say?

Max's phone rang, and surprise, surprise...it was his mother. Listening to her rant and rave, her gentle motherly concern about his choice of best man, Max hung up after telling her he was on his way over. Max went in search of his assistant.

~~~

“Max, sweetie, did you eat breakfast?”

Max smiled at his mother. “Yeah. Liz fed me.”

Diane Evans took that in stride. Her children were over twenty-five, but still she worried. It seemed only yesterday they were eight year old foundlings that she and Philip brought home. The poor things had spent two years in the system before they were adopted.

“We need to talk, Mom.”

“About the wedding?”

Diane was so incredibly happy that Max was getting married. She had worried about him all through high school. He never dated, or even seemed interested in dating. And except for Isabel, his only companion was Michael Guerin . Diane was afraid that Max’s lack of interest in dating and girls was because he and Michael were... Not that it would have mattered, but she just wanted her son happy. It was hard to see Michael spending so many nights sleeping in Max’s room, but she didn’t want to be a prying mother. Still...

“In a roundabout way.” Max took some coffee and sat down across from his mom. Taking a deep breath, he started at the beginning, because it was the only place to begin. “About Michael...”

Diane held her breath. Oh lord. She was a modern mom. She could march in Gay Pride parades if necessary, but it wasn’t. Max was marrying Liz Parker. Sweet little Liz Parker.

“Do you remember when you and dad came to the orphanage?” Diane nodded. “How much were you told about our past, about who we were, and how we came to be there?”

Diane just frowned. What did this have to do with Michael?

“Not much. They weren’t into disclosure at that time. We just remembered that some children were found deserted in the desert, and we put in a request to adopt or foster them. It took two years before they’d let you out of their care. They had to make sure you were physically and mentally fit, that no one came to reclaim you, and I guess at first you couldn’t talk.”

“I remember.” It was true; he couldn’t talk. None of them could. It took a year of listening to the language before they could speak it. But he could talk to Michael and Isabel. He could hear their voices in his head better than his own. It wasn’t in words, or words he could even comprehend, more like images and knowing. He understood them. Knew they belonged to him.

“Finally they called, and we told them we wanted two children. We came to the orphanage and saw you. Your dad saw your serious little face, and he knew. He just knew. And then Isabel came running around the corner, and ran smack dab into me. I righted her, and it was like I knew her all my life.” Diane smiled at the memory. “So the woman with us took us to the office, and I asked about Isabel, and your Dad asked about you. You were both available for adoption. We asked if you were the children found in the desert, and they said yes. The two of you were.”

“Three.”

Diane paused and looked at Max. “Three? What are you talking about?”

Max cleared his throat and looked into his coffee cup. “There were three of us found in the desert that night, Mom. Three. Isabel, me...and Michael.”

“Then Michael is...”

“Our brother. Isabel’s twin.”

Diane’s mouth hung open for a moment. So that meant that Michael and Max weren’t…

“So Michael’s not gay?”

Max laughed at that. Actually he couldn’t stop laughing. The confusion on his mom’s face, her earnest regard. “No. Hardly. Michael likes women well enough, as long as they don’t touch his stuff or mess up his life by actually being a part of it.”

“A brother. They never told us. Never suggested that there was more than the two of you. Isabel’s twin?”

“Remember the first year we came to you?” Diane nodded. “Isabel cried. Every night. And then one day she stopped.”

“I remember. I just thought she was having adjustment problems.”

“She was. She couldn’t feel Michael anymore. He was too far away, and we left him alone. In that place. Then over a year later we went to school, and there rolling around in the dirt was Michael in a fist fight with a bully. Isabel stopped crying that day.”

“Oh god! Why? Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

Max just shrugged. What could he say? They spent so many years staying hidden, that even as children, admitting things to adults felt like too much a risk. How could little children know? How could they explain they knew each other, felt each other, without divulging their alieness? And even then, it wasn’t until they all turned twenty-one that they really understood their connection. In a flash of dreams of other worlds, other times, they saw themselves. Not in a physical form, but in a sense of knowing. It felt like them. Max was the eldest, and the King. And Michael and Isabel were his twin siblings merely a year behind. That made Michael second to the throne in rights of succession. And still his entire life he felt he never belonged.

“Michael was in a foster home with Hank. We thought he had a home, like we did.” Diane just looked down at her hands. She met Hank a few times. She wouldn’t wish her worst enemy on that man.

“Hank wasn’t what I call parent material,” said Diane softly.

“He wasn’t. I didn’t know. I didn’t understand back then, but that was why Michael slept on my floor all those years. I just found out a little while ago, and this is never to be told outside this room...but Michael was abused all those years, almost up until he graduated high school.” Max ignored his mother’s gasp. He felt guilty telling Michael’s secret, and to his mother. Telling her, but not Liz.

“Are you sure?”

Max nodded. “It was an accident. I found out by accident after Hank died. Michael isn’t happy about me knowing, and he hasn't talked to me since. That’s why he’s avoiding the wedding stuff, the fittings and everything. But I’m not finding another best man. He’s my brother. And if he won’t stand up next to me, then I’m not getting married.”

“Max...”

“I just told you this for one reason. Lay off Michael. Isabel is already terri fied of losing him again. She's been terri fied of losing him all our lives. So try to understand how afraid she is, how much Michael feels that he doesn’t belong, and how devastated I would be to lose him as well.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“All my life.” Max needed to get back to work. “I need to get back to work, but I promise I’ll get Michael to the fitting. Just give me some time.”

“Max.” Max stopped at the door when his mom called to him.

“Is he okay? Michael?” Diane choked back tears. “Is he happy now?”

Max looked at his mother. And then away. “No.”

~~~

Michael looked at the crowded ER. Maria sat next to him, leaning on his larger frame and almost hysterically holding on to him. It had to hurt her hands. She hadn’t spoken since he put her in his car and drove her to County General in Roswell.

There was a woman screaming next to them being restrained by orderlies. Maria whimpered in fear, and her eyes that had been clearing were suddenly unfocused and confused. He could taste her growing hysteria in his mouth almost like rusty nails. His hand came up to frame her face, to hold her close so she wouldn’t be afraid. This place was insane.

“Mr. Guerin ?”

Michael looked up at the nurse who called his name and nodded. Helping Maria up, he led her through the doors and into a room. Answering the questions quickly, he watched as the nurse took Maria’s vitals and logged them on a chart. Michael was prepared to wait, but they told him he could leave. He avoided Maria’s eyes. Her hands tightened on him in fright and it took some work, but he got free. Following a man in a coat, he quickly left, wincing at the sounds coming from her room behind him.

“This is the way out. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her.”

Michael just nodded, but he couldn’t stop looking back. He could her voice rising in hysteria, and the imprint of her hands was still on his arm. Looking down, he saw the blood on his jacket sleeve. Her hands. They were bleeding again. The heavy security door closed behind him, and the only way back in was the key pad or the main emergency entrance.

She’s fine. Fine. Not his problem. It was for the best. They were professionals and they would fix her hands, find her memory, and get her back to her people. Michael straightened his shoulders and ignored the echoes of her voice in his mind. She’ll be fine. Not his problem.

Michael was heading for his car when he stopped short. Agent Burns. Special Agent Burns was standing not far away. He was gesturing angrily and talking to two men. And the men. They were large and strong, and with intensely scary faces. Burns didn’t look too happy. They moved off slowly towards the ER. Maria...

“Son-of-a-bitch. This is total bullshit. Get it together, Guerin .” Michael continued to his car. He needed groceries. But his feet wouldn’t move. Couldn’t move. He kept looking back at the ER door.

“Dammit! I hate this shit!” He quickly turned back to the ER. Looking around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he quickly opened the back locked security door with his powers. Entering the ER, he made sure no one saw him. He was just going to make certain that she was okay. He could hear a commotion at the main desk which was drawing the attention of the staff. Michael entered Maria's cubicle.

“Fucking hell!” She looked up at his voice.

They had restrained her. Her arms were tied down, and she was struggling to get free. And the blood on her hands was flowing again. He undid the straps, and gestured to her to be quiet. Picking her up, he left her dress there and took her in the hospital gown. Her feet. Dammit! He forgot her feet, and her running through the woods barefoot. He could see them now. They looked bloodied, scraped and terri bly sore.

Carrying Maria out of the room, he made sure the corridor was cleared. Heading for the back security door, he could hear Special Agent Burns' voice rising in the front desk area demanding to see someone in charge. Michael moved quickly, keeping Maria close to his chest. She just hung onto him desperately.

Once at the car, he placed her in the passenger side and he jumped in. Reaching in the back, he picked up the afghan he used before to cover her again. Maria was quiet. Her eyes were wild and frightened again.

“I know! It was a stupid idea.” Max. He could get Max to heal her. But looking at her, he knew she would be too afraid to let another stranger near, plus that meant exposing them. Dammit. He was keeping her, and he sure as hell wasn’t handing her over to some frickin’ Fed. “They’re going to be looking for you. If they use dogs from the car crash site, they will come straight to my house. Burns will be on their tail. This trip doesn’t have to be a total waste.”

Michael thought about it for a second. Taking the card Agent Burns gave him out of his pocket, he stared it a moment. Okay. They’d do it another way. Michael pulled over to a quiet street.

“C’mon. I need you to get in the back seat.”

Michael quickly put her in back and on the floorboard, covering her up with the afghan. She made a sound of distress.

“Shhh, listen to me. I’m not going anywhere.” Michael jumped back into the drivers' seat and headed to the Roswell PD. “Just trust me, okay? Stay under the blanket, and don’t make any noise. Just wait for me. I promise. I won’t let you down. Trust me.”

Michael got out of the car and locked the door, hoping she wouldn’t panic and take off. Entering the main entrance, he went straight to the main desk. The place was a shambles. People were everywhere, dog handlers with their dogs, and men wearing special blue flak jackets. Rivers of coffee was being consumed. Michael waited and waited. Everyone ignored him. Shit. She was going to leave. Finally he banged on the countertop.

“How about some help here!”

Kyle looked up from where he was helping to organize the search. Seeing Michael Guerin he sighed. Great. No sleep. A frickin’ pain in the pass FBI agent out there somewhere, missing woman, and now he had Michael Guerin to deal with.

“Guerin.”

Michael just sneered at the man. “Valenti. I don’t want you. Get your old man.”

Kyle ‘fucking’ Valenti from his first day at school, the day he found Max and Isabel again. He remembered looking up from the dirt, from the scuffle he was in with that kid, that Valenti kid. They rolled around in a flash of arms and feet grunting as fists connected, and suddenly he was picked up by a hand to his ear, as was Kyle. They were marched to the Principal’s office. He kept looking back in case they disappeared. Two figures. In their perfectly proper clothes, holding hands, and both holding brand new lunch boxes with backpacks on their backs.

Looking down at his messy clothes now dirty from the roll with Kyle, the new tears, and his shoes that were untied and too big for his feet. He had no lunch and no money. His hair stood straight up off his head. He was left behind because he wasn’t shiny and perfect. He was anything but perfect. They saw that immediately and left him behind.

“My...old man, is busy working on a missing person’s case. What is it this time? Trespassers? Raccoons? Or is it traps again? I already told you that you can’t set out steel-toothed traps around your property to discourage trespassers.”

Michael took the card Agent Burns gave him and flipped it at Kyle. “Wouldn’t do any good. Even the frickin’ FBI can’t seem to read my ‘Go Away or I will Shoot You Between Your Beady Eyes’ sign. Harassing me on my doorstep this morning. Early.”

Kyle looked at the card and swore. That explained where Special Agent Burns went. “So what do you want? To serve a complaint?”

Michael rubbed his chin. “That’s a thought. But no. Actually, I said I would contact him if I saw his missing woman. Which I have.”

The entire room went quiet. Kyle grabbed a flyer and handed it to Michael. “Is this the woman?” Michael nodded and scanned the flyer. Keeping it in his hand, he discreetly refused to give it back.

Raising his voice in an annoying bitching tone, he answered, “Yeah. That’s her. Wild woman. All confused and bloodied. Knocking over my trash cans. I finally caught her, took her into my home, bandaged up her hands. Should have done her feet too, but...”

“Where is she? What did you do to her?”

“Well dammit, Valenti. I was trying to tell you! What? What do you think I did? Spanked her ass, told her to get the hell of my property and aimed her to the nearest neighbor half a mile down the frickin’ road.” Michael sighed when he noticed half the people in the room actually were taking him seriously. Rolling his eyes, “I took her to the frickin’ hospital…okay? Just dropped her off. They swore they’d take care of her. So…” Michael gestured for Kyle to be still and not to interrupt him. “So you can find your missing chick there, and tell your suit Burns to keep off my doorstep.”

Michael turned to leave, and then looked back quickly. “Hey, Valenti.” Kyle looked at him again as the team of searchers were packing it in to go check the hospital. “How about pits with spikes? It’s hardly my fault if someone falls into one while trespassing on my land.”

“Get the hell out of here!” Kyle watched Michael walk away. “ Guerin !” Michael turned back. “Thanks.”

Michael just shrugged and was out the door. Whatever. That would divert the search teams from his place. As far as they knew, she had been there and he had wiped his hands of her. He was on his way back to the car when Kyle caught up to him.

“Michael. I just called the hospital. Burns was there making trouble and the woman ran away again.”

Michael just feigned boredom. “Yeah, she was a little off her rocker. Couldn’t remember anything except her name was Maria. Real whacked-out chick...crackers. Her hands were all cut up, real bad. I bandaged them with everything I had, made her eat a little chicken broth, and took her to the hospital.”

“Yeah. Someone shot at her car. Lots of bullets. She went off the road into a ravine. Rolled a few times. Looked like her door was crushed in and she couldn’t get it open. That’s when the car caught fire. Description of her hands, my best guess is she banged on the glass in terror until she broke it by putting her hands through it.” Kyle looked at Michael. They had known each other for a long time. Never friends. “She was lucky to survive.”

Michael just nodded. She had almost burned alive in that car. He swallowed the rising bile created by that thought, and then suddenly went still. Kyle was staring at his jacket. “What?”

Kyle pointed to his arm and shoulders. “Bloodstains.”

Michael swallowed his response and just shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, her hands where bleeding again when I took her in, even through all the gauze I had. Guess I need to replace it at the drug store. Anyway, her feet were all scraped and stuff, so I carried her.” Michael’s eyes narrowed at Kyle’s look of surprise. “What? You expected me to force an injured bleeding woman to walk barefoot across the parking lot of the ER?”

“No. Of course not. That was nice of you.”

“The hell it was! Got her off my property and out of my house didn’t it?” Michael said nastily, as he just walked away. Kyle nodded and went back inside.

Looking down at the flier, Michael read the information and shoved it in his pocket. Maria DeLuca. Tucson, Arizona. What the hell are you doing in my neck of the woods? Who the hell is shooting at you?

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Fic