The next morning, she still hadn’t stirred. Her skin was still too hot. They had repeated the same bathing ritual of the other morning, and he settled her on the sofa to watch Saturday morning cartoons. No laughter. He frowned at the doorway. She was asleep again.

“Maria.”

He didn’t like the way her eyes seemed distant and distracted. She had a fever again. Fuck. He went upstairs for some more Tylenol and water. It was already 9:30 a.m., and he was going to be late for that blasted tux fitting.

“Maria. Drink.” He watched as she drank the water, and then swallowed the tablets.

“I thought you had to be somewhere today.”

“I do in about thirty minutes. I just don’t like leaving you alone.”

“I’m fine here. I’ll just watch TV and sleep. I promise not to answer the door.”

Michael cussed under his breath. He needed a second cell phone. She wouldn't be able to hold it anyway. He needed to find her some pain pills, get some groceries, and do the damn tux thing before his space was invaded by well intended idiots who didn’t know enough to just leave him alone.

“Anything I can get you?”

Maria just shook her head and was asleep again before he left.

~~~

Bored now. Michael snarled at the fitter as  yet another pin was pushed into his flesh. Sadistic bastard. Max watched from the door with a smile on his face. Michael’s pissy attitude was making the poor man nervous, and the more nervous the man became, the more pins ended up in Michael’s body.

“Michael.”

“If you say anything, and I mean anything, I’m gone.”

“I wasn’t going to say a thing.”

“That’s something. I’m out of here.”

Max laughed and stopped his brother. “You look good in a tux. Who’d have thought.”

“Maxwell...” Michael warned.

“I think he looks very handsome. You better watch it, Max. Liz might rethink who she wants to marry.” Michael looked up horrified at the sound of Mrs. Evans. Damn. A set up. It had to be.

“Mom, that’s because you haven’t see me in my tux yet.”

“Then I suggest you get into it so they can start working on it.” Max nodded and looked at his mom and Michael with a worried expression, but had little option but to leave. Giving Michael a stern look not to be rude to his mom he hurried off so he could be back quickly.

Mrs. Evans ran her hand down Michael’s shoulder checking the fit of the tailoring. It wasn’t hard to notice the stiffening of his shoulders and back when her hands touched him. He didn’t like to be touched. She frowned at his back. She was finally understanding that, and understanding other things that should’ve made sense so many years ago. The sleepovers, the eating like it was his only meal, the way his face would shutter and then go blank, and the way he only spoke in simple yes's and no's.

“Thank you for coming, Michael. It means everything to Max.”

“I know.” Michael looked up at the door desperate for Max to come back.

“So how have you been?” Michael just shrugged. “I read the last article you wrote. It was a nice piece. Great publication. National. You must be proud.”

Proud? Michael didn’t get that. It was his job. He wrote, they paid. Over the last few years as he slowly made a name for himself, they started paying a lot. Once he had to take quite a few stories to support himself and afford his land and home. Now he was able to be more selective. Nothing too complicated. Now if he ever published his book, then he’d truly be proud.

“I notice you do a lot of environmental issues, some political, but few human interest articles.”

“I just take the assignments they give me.” Michael didn’t mention that he had asked never to cover real human interest stories. He didn’t like them. Didn’t like to research people in pain. The few he did do were crossover stories that touched his main piece, like the story he did on the devastating mudslides, or the story with implications to wildlife and the people living in a Cove that was polluted by an oil spill.

Diane struggled to get him to talk. “I liked the one you did the other year about the consequences of intense fishing off the shores of Nova Scotia, and the direct result in the alteration of a lifestyle that had been preserved since the turn of the latter century.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. That was a special piece he had done specifically for the government of Nova Scotia, to help in their claims to regulate deep water trawling. It was more of a PSA than an actual article. How had she run into that piece?

“How many of my articles have you read?”

“All of them.”

Michael didn’t even know what to say. His pieces numbered in the hundreds now. Even Max and Isabel had only read the ones that where in the periodicals they normally would read anyway. They never went out of their way to find them, and they never asked for a copy of the complimentary articles he was given for his files and to pass around. They sat in unopened manila envelopes in his office in folders with his original article, interviews, and notes.

Isabel saved him. She came through the door in a bustle of activity.

“Michael! You made it!” Against his will, he was forced to hug an exuberant Isabel, who threw herself in his arms. Pausing for a moment to return her hug, he then gently but firmly put her away from him.

Diane Evans watched them interact with interest, and her breath caught for a moment when suddenly the two looked at each other and in a quick flash they looked the same. The female and male version of the same face. How could she have missed that all these years? They had the same coloring, the same body size and height, though Michael was unquestionably the larger of the two.

“The answer is no, Izzy.”

“Oh c’mon! You might like her. Jennifer. Isn’t that a lovely name?”

Michael removed the coat, careful of the pins. “Yeah, lovely. You date her. I’m involved.”

That caught Isabel’s attention immediately, and Michael almost bit his tongue off. How the hell did that slip past? He needed serious therapy.

“Involved? You? With a woman?”

“No, my own hand,” he said sarcastically.

Max came back into the room and heard the tail end of the conversation. “Michael’s involved with a woman? Since when?”

Diane watched the three interact and smiled a little. She missed that from their childhood. They would lay on the floor in front of the television, bantering back and forth. It worried her that usually Michael ended up as the butt of the joke, or came off worse. They were ganging up on him again.

“Who said anything about a woman? I can take care of myself with my own hand, and without the bother and fuss, not to mention expense of catering to an overpriced female who demands too much of my time.” Michael suddenly seemed to remember Mrs. Evans was there and listening. Dammit, he could feel heat creeping up his neck. He tossed the jacket at the pin pusher, and decided it was time to go. He had done his duty. “I’m outta here. I’ve got to get to the Post Office before it closes.”

“Mr. Guerin ,” the little sadistic pipsqueak ran after him in his haste to leave. He was waving a card at Michael. “Your next appointment!”

There was more than one? Dammit. No one had told him he needed to come back except to pick up the damn thing. Michael looked at the card. The next fitting was in another week. He made a mental note to himself to call and change the date and time so he wouldn't be ambushed by the Evans clan again.

Diane Evans watched the man leave in a hurry, his long legs eating up the distance as fast as he could. Michael. He was such an enigma. She hardly ever gave him much thought, unless to worry about his friendship with Max, what the nature of it was, and most of the time feeling he wasn’t good enough for her kids. Then a day or so ago she contacted a news clipping agency in Albuquerque asking for them to find and clip all articles written by Michael Guerin . Within hours they emailed her endless articles in bulk. Not all of his work, but all that was available online. The remaining pieces were being sent by regular mail including all the other online articles in print form.

It took her hours and hours to read as many as she did. She had lied. She hadn’t read everything he wrote, but she had read a good portion of it. And as soon as the rest caught up, she would read those immediately. He was talented. Her lost son was a puzzle, a slip in the spectrum of light. Just when you thought you understood what he was, the light shifted and you realized you never really saw him at all.

~~~

Michael was in the pharmacy pondering the aisle of pain relief. They had to be kidding. How much junk did people need for pain? There was an entire aisle covered in a multitude of boxes. Damn. He should have done some investigation on it earlier.

“Mr. Guerin .”

Michael didn’t even bother to look up from his reading of the back of a box. “Burns. We have to stop meeting like this or people will talk.”

“I just wanted to let you know that Maria DeLuca is still missing.”

Michael put down the box and sighed. “Good to know. I’ll invest in some DeLuca-size traps in case she decides to invade my property again.” Michael finally looked at the man. “Damn. Are you wearing the same suit, or you just own an endless supply of the same one?”

“Fashion, Mr. Guerin ? I’d wouldn't have figured you for harboring any interest in such things,” he replied, noting Michael’s tight black t-shirt and black jeans.

“That’s because you don’t know me, Burns. See how uninformed you are? I just got myself fitted for a tux.” Michael went to the main counter and asked to talk to the pharmacist.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Yeah, I need a top notch painkiller. Something that can make the most persistent of headaches vanish without a trace. Any suggestions?” Michael pointedly looked at Burns.

“Prescription or OTC?”

Michael shrugged. “Either or. I just want the best.”

“Well, the best would be narcotics. But there are different schedules of narcotics available. Of course you’d need a doctor to prescribe them for you. I think one of the more popular ones that has met with great success is Lortab, which has hydrocodone. Now there are stronger medications, but that's a good place to start.”

Michael seemed to be contemplating the information. “Can I see what one looks like? I have a problem swallowing large pills.”

The Pharmacist went to get his pill tray and a bottle. He poured one out and showed it to Michael, then quickly put it away.

“Thanks. Could you write that down for me? I don’t want to ask my doctor for the wrong stuff. Hey Burns, maybe it would even be strong enough to make you go away.” Michael took the note and thanked the Pharmacist.

Burns followed him out of the Pharmacy.

“The girl is still missing.”

“Yeah, caught that. She probably heard you were looking for her and headed south of the border. Can’t fault her for that.” Michael saw Kyle Valenti rushing towards him. Frickin’ great. His day for assholes and jocks. He should've stayed home. He’d blame Max for this. “Hell, if I thought you were looking for me, I’d shave my legs, move to Tijuana, call myself Guadalupe and learn to dance salsa. Oh, Valenti, please tell me you’re looking for Special Agent Burns. Personally, I’m running a special on him. For just a smile you can have him as your very own pain in the ass FBI'er.”

“Actually I was looking for you.” Michael just swore. He fucking hated Roswell.

“Well, if you’re here to arrest me and it’ll get me away from Burns, I'll confess. To anything.” Michael watched as Burns turned on his heels and took himself off in a fury.

“It’s not good to piss him off. He’s FBI, you know.”

“Yeah, well...there’s a lot of Fucking Boring Individuals in the world. I don’t have to like them either. What do you want, Valenti? I’m sort of running late to get groceries and head home, so you can have one minute.”

“I need you to come to the station. The Sheriff wants to talk to you.”

“I take it that means more than the minute I allotted you?”

“Michael.”

Michael sighed and agreed. He needed to kill time anyway until the pharmacy closed and he could "enter" it for some Lortab for Maria. Antibiotics for infection? That was still up in the air. There were too many, and he couldn’t take a chance just giving her anything. He really needed to talk her into letting Max look at her. But even he was reluctant. That would add Max into the possible danger and increase the possibility of exposure.

Another thing. He liked having her to himself. That thought alone scared the shit out of him.

~~~

Maria heard the sound first as a tinkling of glass. It was off in the distance. Turning off the TV, she listened. It had come from upstairs near the kitchen. Gingerly standing and ignoring the pain in her feet, she looked around. Taking the afghan, she opened up a storage closet. The bottom of it was empty, the shelves above were filled with books and papers. Scooting under the shelf, she covered herself in the knitted blanket. She slowly pulled the door closed, hurting her hand again in the process.

She could hear the door from the garage open to the kitchen. Michael? He knew where she was. He’d come there first to check on her. She waited. He’d call out when he didn’t find her. The footsteps above moved around the room, and then went up the stairs towards the bedroom. Not Michael.

They’d find her. How could they not? She couldn’t stop her heart from beating. She couldn’t stop breathing. She was dead.

~~~

“What is it you want, Sheriff?”

“Feel like old times, Michael?”

“Yeah, I’m awash in the flood of memories. Home sweet home. You want to get on with it? I’ve got work to get through today.”

Michael answered all the questions slowly and precisely. The same story over and over again. It was mostly true, so it was easy to keep it straight. What he left out was retrieving Maria and keeping her.

“So you don’t remember Maria DeLuca?”

Michael just shrugged. He didn’t realize he was supposed to remember her from anyone else. He had a hard time remembering people he actually knew. Most of those he wanted to forget.

“Should I?”

“She lived in Roswell until she was seven.”

“I didn’t start school in Roswell until I was nine. So no. I can honestly say until I saw her that day behind my woodpile, I never laid eyes on her.”

“Michael. The thing is that the woman just disappeared, and no one knows her here or has claimed her missing. You’re the only connection we have with her, albeit a distance one.”

“Sorry, Sheriff. I can’t help you, and I’ve told you everything I can. So if you don’t need anything else from me, I need to get going.” Michael stood to leave. “You want to do something for me?” Valenti looked at him with a gesture to continue. “Get that idiot Burns off my tail. He’s starting to really piss me off.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Michael’s cell phone rang. He took it out and frowned. He had to go now.

Hanson came through the door. “Sheriff, the alarm company just reported a silent alarm at Guerin ’s place.”

Michael cussed under his breath. That was what his cell phone said. Entry was from a window in the garage. Damn. Maria...

~~~

Michael beat the Sheriff and his support units to his house by pushing the speed limit. Pulling into his drive he was out of his car immediately, not bothering to stop the engine. Using his powers he opened his own lock. Walking softly, he heard sound in his office. He silently descended the stairs and interrupted Burns searching his office.

The sound of sirens in the distance had alerted the Special Agent. He looked up just in time to see Guerin ’s fist coming straight for his eye. Valenti entered the premises right behind Michael. He’d never seen the man’s home. It was nice. A large main house with a split level addition to the right opposite the kitchen with a living room on the left. The entryway led to a two story living room  with a breathtaking cathedral ceiling and a wall of glass looking out onto a deck and the woods. It was large and spacious. A far cry from that trailer Michael was raised in.

Kyle and Jim rushed down the stairs to the office. The other set of stairs remained dark, the one leading to the basement game room. Jim barely was able to pull Michael off the Agent. He was hitting the man repeatedly.

“Michael! Michael, back off or I’ll have to run you in!”

Michael stepped back and shook off both Hanson and Kyle. His office was a shambles. Leaving the room in a rage, he went upstairs to his bedroom. It had been tossed as well. No other perimeter alarms had gone off. Michael checked the main level and then went down to the basement. The TV was off. She was missing. The glass doors were still closed and the shades shut. If she went out that way the alarm company would’ve recorded the open door.

He never set his alarm unless he was leaving on assignment, but he had this morning because he felt uncomfortable leaving her alone. Where the hell was she? He noticed the afghan was missing. Hiding. She was hiding.

“Michael.”

He went back up the stairs. He looked at Burns and his fist closed again. The bastard had broken into his home, searched it, and...

“I want to press charges. The full extent of the law.”

Burns stared at him in defiance.

“Michael, I know this is a violation of your privacy and your home, but maybe we could...”

“We. Can. Not. Did you find what you were looking for Burns? Did you find this Ms. DeLuca in my private papers?” Michael grabbed the man’s arm and tossed him down the stairs to the basement before Valenti and the others could stop him. “Looks like you haven’t finished looking. Take a good look, you stupid fuck, because this is the last time you set foot in my home. Ever. What did you expect to find?”

“Michael, calm down.” Valenti stepped between the Agent and Michael. The man was enraged, and Jim couldn’t help but feel it was justified. Ever since Michael had found the woman and taken her to the hospital, he had been questioned numerous times and had been invaded by the FBI. The house was empty, and even if Burns thought Guerin was keeping DeLuca hidden in his home, that didn’t explain why Burns was tossing the man’s private papers. He was looking for something else.

“I want him held. I want charges brought against him and I want his immediate supervisor informed. Then I want a restraining order against him. He comes within fifty feet of my home, my property, or myself again I will kill him.” Valenti opened his mouth, but then closed it.

“Kyle, read Special Agent Burns his rights.”

“You can’t do that! I’ll have your badge for this. I’m an agent of the US government.”

Valenti brought himself up close to the Agent and looked into his face. “You’re also a citizen of the US, as is Mr. Guerin . Do you have a search warrant or any other just cause to break into the man’s home and search it?”

Burns' jaw flexed, but he remained quiet. Guerin was hiding something. He knew it. Maybe something that DeLuca gave him, some information, or even something he didn’t know he had. Something she left behind. The man was off. He set off every alarm Burns had. What was it?

“Take him back to town and book him. I’ll contact his supervisor myself.” Valenti looked at Michael and frowned. The rage coming off the man was almost tangible. “Michael, you’ll need to come downtown and sign the complaint.”

“I will. Is tomorrow okay? Can you hold him until then?”

Jim nodded. “I'll tentatively sign it for you since I was on premise and saw the breaking and entering. Do you want me to contact someone to come fix your window?”

“No. I’ll do it tomorrow. It’s going to take me all night just to put my office back together. I’ll send the bill to you to forward to his supervisor.”

“Do that.” Valenti looked at the man, and didn’t want to leave him alone. “Can I call anyone for you? Maybe Max Evans or...”

“Just get out.”

Michael wanted to look for her in the worst way, but he followed them all upstairs. He put his car in the garage and peered at the window that Burns had broken to gain entry to his home. He moved his hand over the broken pane and it was whole and fixed again. His own fault. He had purposely taunted the Agent and given him a reason to be angry, to suspect him. Maria. Damn. Where was she?

Michael rushed back into the house and down the stairs. She had to be here. Her feet were too tender for her to quickly move up the stairs and hide, and most places upstairs had been searched. Michael’s eyes fell on the cabinet doors to the storage closet. Impossible. It was nothing but shelves. She was small, but not that small.

He looked around the rest of the room, but his eyes kept going back to the cabinet. Finally he just had to check. Opening the door, he didn’t see her. Not at first. On the floor wedged in the back under the lo wes t shelf was the hint of the green afghan. Getting on his knees he looked under the shelf and to the back, softly calling her name. His hand reached out and touched her, and her whole body flinched.

“It’s okay. It’s Michael.”

He slowly pulled her out, amazed she could fold herself into such a small place. She was tinier than he realized. Picking up her shivering body, he went to sit on the sofa again holding her in his arms and rocking her.

“Someone was here,” she said softly.

“I know. He’s gone now.”

“I was scared. I hate being afraid. I hate being vulnerable, and I hate being weak.” Michael just rocked her back and forth. She was shivering but her skin was hot. Fever. She was even hotter than when he left her earlier, and because he came immediately home, he didn’t even get to get her some pain medication.

Picking up her hands, he swore. They were worse than before. Using them to shut the door made them bleed again. She was asleep. He didn’t know how high her temperature was, but it felt hotter than before. Slowly sliding out from under her, he covered her up and went upstairs.

Straightening the office would have to wait. He found a thermometer in the bathroom. He couldn’t remember why he even bothered to buy it. It wasn’t like he was ever sick. But with the increase in headaches, he just felt the need to be better supplied. She was asleep still when he returned.

One hundred and four degrees. An infection. It had to be. She was dying.

“Why are you frowning?” He looked at her. He hadn’t realized she had woken up.

“You still have a fever. I think it’s an infection.” Michael gently took her hands in his. “Let me take you somewhere. Something.”

“I...” Maria swallowed hard. Don’t be afraid. It was hard. Everything inside said to not expose herself, to heal and get strong to fight another day. Battles. Choose the battleground, a place and time where she could win. That wasn’t now.

“Maria, please.”

“No.”

“You’re sick. You could die.”

Her eyes felt heavy. “I’d die either way then. They’ll be waiting. Looking. No matter where I go, there they will be.” Her eyes felt heavy, too heavy.

“Let me bring my friend, my brother. He can help.”

“I trust in you. Believe in you. There is no one else.”

Michael frowned as her voice faded away. She believed. In him. Why? Michael paced the room. She was sick. Very sick. She’d get sicker and perhaps she would die. Believe in that, Buddy. Max, he should call Max. But looking down at her, he couldn’t. He couldn’t betray her trust. She had no one. Her life was a blank, totally erased, and he was all she had. If he walked  away or betrayed her in any way, it would be the same as all the times he had been left behind, betrayed, and…

Sitting beside her, he took her hands again in his. Closing his eyes, he brought them up to his face. Great. He’d finally get rid of her, get her out of his house, but it wouldn’t be any good. She’d be gone. Dead. How the hell was he going to explain this dead missing girl in his house?

Trust. Belief. She believed in him. Strange that no one else ever had. Don’t die. Don’t die, Maria! He wished he were different. Better. Stronger. Perfect. Wished he could heal the wounds he could never heal. He held her hands to his face and he prayed. Not to God. He couldn’t be that hypocritical. He prayed to something deep inside him. His strength. The only thing he had. The strength he had found so many years ago in that closet. The very thing that made him get up and fight. Survive. Maria called it his voice.

He had to believe in it. Believe with everything he had. He had many faults. Many flaws. But he was loyal. She had put her trust in him, and he’d not betray it. He couldn’t. He must believe.

Maria's eyes opened to watch him. Her hands felt hot. They rested against his face, and they were scorching. He was sitting there with his eyes closed, concentrating on something only he could hear. Her eyes journeyed over the planes of his face wanting to touch them, not just observe them. Wanting to know them so she could sculpt them with her eyes closed.

Suddenly her hands, framed on his face and held there by his hands, felt too hot. But this heat came from his hands, melding into the back of hers and into her palms. And then the sensation of nothing. Blissful nothing. No heat. No pain. Her wounded fingers bent. Flexed. Feathered across his features with the softest of touches.

He sat up straighter as he felt her touch. Opening his eyes, he looked into hers as his hands fell away. But her hands remained. On his face. Her fingers that weren’t covered by the gauze touched along his cheek and like the lightest of touches, they burned a path to his soul. A touch that didn’t hurt.

~~~

“Kyle, you’re supposed to be off today.” Jim reminded his son.

“I know. I was just going to go pick up Guerin for you to question. I didn’t expect a trip out to Fraser Woods for something other than that.” Kyle watched as Hanson put Burns through the booking process. This was too good to miss. He’d leave as soon as the best parts were over. Burns just felt wrong. Off.

“I thought Vicky was getting ready for school.”

“She is. Admission was easy. It was like being a transfer student. It’s late in the semester, and Spring Semester is almost over, but she can take summer classes. I think she’s excited about that, and in the Fall maybe we can find a way to let her go full time.”

“I’d love to help, son. Financially. I might be able to help some if you need it.”

Kyle smiled and slapped his dad on the back. “Don’t think we won’t hit you up for cash. Childcare for the boys is going to be hard. Vic’s mom said she’d take them twice a week, so we just have to cover three days a week with the daycare thing.”

Kyle and Jim both looked over at a cursing Burns as the booking continued. They both smiled. Candy to babies. It was a real treat.

“You’re doing a good thing, Kyle. Most men might not have understood or even noticed that Vicky needed more.”

His son. More a man at twenty five than he was at fifty. His bitch of an ex-wife, Michelle didn’t even understand what she was losing when she walked out on them. Leaving him was okay. That was between them. Their problems. But walking away from someone like Kyle? Her own son? She was a stupid woman.

Kyle understood that a woman could feel trapped in a life, in a circumstance, in a moment. Stuck there. He had always felt his mom was unhappy because she had him when she was too young, and she woke up one day trapped in her life. So she left. He couldn’t stand to see his own wife trapped the same way. He’d do anything to make her happy, to keep her with him.

“I can’t lose her. She’s my life.”

Jim nodded. He understood. Kyle still carried scars. His mother's leaving left an impression, one that dictated his relationship with his own wife. Jim hadn’t realized how much until now.

Kyle smiled at the disgruntled Special Agent Burns. “Are you going to let him post bail?”

Jim shrugged. In his present mood, he’d prefer to let the man rot in jail. But somehow he suspected that the FBI would send someone to take care of the situation. Either way, arraignment wouldn’t be until Monday, so Special Agent Burns had at least two days in County lockup to contemplate the abuse of his authority and the infringement of the public's rights as protected by the law.

“You’ll regret this, Sheriff.” Burns said as Hanson shut the cage.

“You betcha! I'm regretting it as we speak. Painful.” Jim just nodded to both Hanson and his son and went back to work. “Kyle, let me have the twins for tonight. I’ll take them fishing tomorrow and bring them home all muddy.”

“When you want to pick them up?”

“This afternoon, around four or so.”

Kyle nodded. That just left him, Vicky and the baby. Maybe he could find a babysitter and talk Vicky into a movie and late night groping in the back of the truck. He needed to get going. Looking at his watch he saw he only had half an hour before he was supposed to meet Vicky and the kids. Leaving the lockup area, he took one long look back at Special Agent Burns.

~~~

Maria pulled her hands away from his face slowly. Looking down at them, she flexed her fingers again, and then slowly unwrapped them. Michael sat up straighter and away from her. Oh god! What had he done?

This was impossible! He wasn't the healer! Certainly not big things, and never when he was emotional. He watched her unravel the gauze in wonder and dawning horror. Second time. It was the second time he had exposed himself to her. The first time was when he blasted her into the side of the house. She didn't seem to remember that. At least she'd never brought it up and he certainly wasn't going to. Now this. This would be too hard to ignore or explain away, unless he tried to convince her he was a faith healer. No, she'd never buy that.

Fear. He could taste it, and this time it was his own. Freak. Visitor. Alien.

Maria watched her own hands in amazement as they came slowly into view. It was as if another hand was unwrapping them, exposing them. Her eyes shut for a moment, just in case it wasn’t true. That she would be staring at her torn hands, her torn life. Courage was a strange thing. It was like a stiffness in the backbone, but at times so fleeting it left you limp as a washcloth. Straightening her back, she forced her eyes open and looked at her hands again.

Perfect. Unmarred. Healed.

She gave a loud laugh, almost hysterical and brittle which quickly changed to a laugh of joy. Putting her hands on his face she laughed up at him, and leaning forward she kissed him.

Maria scooted up his body and moved her lovely healed hands over him, pinning him beneath her lips, already searching for his. A warm mouth opened willingly for her, a soft, satiny tongue greeted hers. He could taste her deep inside his mouth. The tastes rolled into each other until Michael couldn't tell where one stopped and the next started. His eyes closed and he savored the movement of her tongue in his mouth. He rested his weight on her slightly and tangled his fingers deep into the incredible sensuousness of her hair, the silky strands tickling his fingertips. His head still cupped firmly in her hands, Michael drew away from the kiss and stared into her eyes. They were soft and gentle, full of happiness and excitement. Michael groaned and began a gentle worship of her face careful of the bruising on the left side.

He heard the low gasp as he started sprinkling random kisses across Maria's face; first on her nose, moving to an eyelid, tracing down a cheekbone. He tasted with his lips and tongue, creating a mental map, following it to find the next spot of sweetness. A tongue brushed softly across eyelashes elicited a soft moan, as did the lips that nuzzled at her delicate ears. Too long. He felt starved, and Michael couldn’t ever remember feeling that feeling before. Not about anyone. Relief. It had to be relief that she wasn’t asking hard questions, but rather just accepting him. Relief that she wasn’t going to die.

Michael catalogued each sound, taste and texture, his mind transferring the raw data into a crystal-clear image of Maria. He didn’t want to stop. He traced around her kiss-swollen lips with the tip of his tongue, then licked a path across Maria's chin, noting the roughness and red he left on her face from his late afternoon whiskers.

“I need to shave.” Michael said cursing his drugged sounding voice and the asinine words he chose.

“No, you don’t.”

Maria studied his face, her eyes opening to search it as her fingers had. Her mouth followed the path of her eyes and fingers. The texture of those whiskers changed, the further down Michael's throat she went, smoothing out and disappearing as she reached the Adam's apple bobbing so temptingly in front of her. Maria groaned as she licked across the tender bump, then suckled it. She had noticed him this way before, but it was in a daze. Not anymore. Nope.

Michael's own body was responding to the breathy moans, whispers and quiet pleas; he was hard and throbbing against her, his body demanding release. He growled as Maria arched against him, brushing their bodies together. She was making it hard for him to remember himself and not take advantage of the situation.

Then with a quick happy laugh, she was nuzzling in the nook between his shoulder and neck. Her arms holding him tight. She looked down at her hands holding onto him and smiled at the lack of pain.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Michael just nodded, and held her tight. It was a short while after that that he noticed she wasn’t moving. Looking down he wasn’t surprised to see that once again she was asleep. Her body still needed to heal, but now that her hands were fixed she was on a definite road to recovery. Soon they could start looking for her people, and answers to the mysteries that would allow her to go home.

Strange. Now the thought of resolving her problems and setting her free didn’t feel that great. He held her and refused to think about what it would mean to him personally when the time came to let her go. It was hours later that he carried her up the stairs and put her to bed. Pausing and  looking down at her, he was hesitant to spend the night in that bed with her after the kiss they shared. The kisses.

But she turned in her sleep, her newly mended hand reaching out for him. Michael watched her for a moment, and watched as she woke up finding him gone.

“Michael?”

“Here.”

“Come to bed.” So simply said, and because it was what he wanted too, he complied.

As soon as he scooted in close to her, she took her usual position on his chest, her hand curled on him. She sighed and snuggled down to sleep. But Michael couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking. Watching the skies though skylight in the ceiling, he contemplated all the stars of the heavens, and for the first time in a long time he thought of his home planet. They never came. No one ever came in all those years. But he was still who he was, and today he had done something he never had before. He had healed. Why? And why didn’t she wonder about it?

“Maria?” He said softly, a part of him not wanting to wake her.

“Hmm?”

“Why?”

Maria just moved in her state of partial sleep. “Why what?”

“Why didn’t you ask me how?”

Maria’s hand reached up and stroked his face and forced him to look down at her in the dark, the room lit by the night sky. She reached up and kissed his lips gently and smiled while snuggling back down to sleep.

“I figure if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me. Otherwise, I’m just thankful. You've given me back my life, and I thank you.”

Michael held her close and rubbed his chin on her head. Taking her curled-up hand from his chest he gently placed a kiss in the palm and then closed it.

“You’re welcome.”

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