Episode 4: Windows

The similarities were ironic. It made Michael want to chuckle. All that was missing was the pouring rain, and tears. He wasn't crying this time. Never again.

He stopped walking when he reached that same spot in the street where he'd stood that night weeks ago. The streetlight was unnecessary tonight-- the moon shone like a silver spotlight, bathing the dark cityscape in cool white light. She'd see him. No way she could miss him. And he'd be in. It couldn't be easier.

There was a momentary twinge in his shoulder, and he reached up to rub it, wincing. It had been bothering him for several days. Desmond explained that it came from exerting his powers-- his body was unused to that type of activity, and it was manifesting physical aches and pains to express its unhappiness with its new role in life. Michael grimaced and dug his fingers into his shoulder, gnashing his teeth at the pain, reveling in it. His body was just going to have to deal-- no way he was turning back into that slump-spined loser he'd been before Desmond came along. No way.

The light switched on in Maria's room, and he let his arm fall. Fixing his face into a solemn stare, he gazed at her window, waiting for her to come into view.

When she did, he glowered briefly. This...human had killed his parents. Or might as well have. All humans were responsible, in his opinion. Collective memory, collective responsibility.

She disappeared for a minute, and when she returned, she was dressed in the same gray camisole and pajama pants as the last time he'd visted her here in the middle of the night. Michael felt a jolt of emotion tear through him, which he quickly suppressed. Where the hell had that come from?

The girl snatched a hairbrush off her dresser-- he recognized it as the one he'd returned to her that day at his apartment-- and crossed her room to sit beneath the window, as was her nightly ritual. Michael shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, trying to look as pathetic as possible.

Maria began pulling the brush through her short, golden hair, gazing up at the stars. Eventually she'd look at him, and she'd tell him to go away, and she'd tell him he had some nerve coming to see her after the way he'd treated her of late. Then she'd throw open the window, and he'd climb through and be in her sweet-smelling bedroom again, for only the second time in over a month.

But no need to rush it. There was plenty of time. For now, he could just stand here and watch her brush her hair, her slim arms pulling the bristles through the soft golden strands. He could remember running his fingers through her hair, as they sat side by side on his couch watching Saturday morning cartoons, or sappy Afterschool specials. Soft and smooth, like silky feathers.

He felt another jolt of emotion, and shook himself minutely to banish it.

Minutes passed, as she pulled the brush through her hair. One hundred strokes. Michael didn't know why he was keeping count, but it didn't seem to matter. Her arm was dropping now, the brush falling to rest in her lap, but her eyes stayed focused skyward. He wondered briefly what she was looking at. Or for.

But then she was looking down, and their eyes locked, and he could feel her shock the instant she saw him. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets, and averted his eyes, realizing suddenly that he was going to have to do this without looking at her; because those eyes knew how to make him forget everything, even the only things he should remember.

******

//Oh. My. God.//

Little else seemed to circulate through Maria's mind as she gazed out the window at the pitiful alien across the street outside her window.

Turning away quickly, she took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth. //Easy, girl,// she told herself firmly. //Just breathe. In. Out. Deep breaths. Cleansing breaths. Breathe. BREATHE!//

Self-instruction complete, she turned back to the window, face set in determination. "What are you doing out there?" she asked, blatantly ignoring the deja vu that pricked at her.

Michael took a step towards her room, and she shook her head. "No. No, you can't come in, no." She crossed her arms and stared out at him. "You've treated me like absolute dirt, Michael Guerin," she told him firmly. "Me and everyone else. If you think that wins you entrance into my bedroom, then I think you have to re-evaluate your position."

He stared at her pitifully.

"And wipe that puppy dog look off your face. You're not getting in."

Then, she said, "Look, just turn around and go home. Desmond's probably wondering where you are."

Then, "Cut it out!"

Then, "Oh, fine. Bastard. Get your ass in here."

******

From the darkness of an alleyway, Desmond watched the hatchling clamber through the female's window. He clenched a fist, and smiled.

******

The instant Michael set foot in Maria's room, he knew he was in trouble. It was the smell-- cyprus oil and vanilla. Like a tropical garden. Like Maria.

"Hello?" A hand appeared in front of his face, waving wildly. "Earth to spaceboy! Wake up!"

He shook himself out of his reverie, and glanced at her, then immediately looked away. He couldn't look at her-- not at those eyes. "What do you want?" he asked sullenly.

Maria snorted, and he could see her flop down on the end of her bed, crossing her slender legs. Legs were ok. He could look at legs. "I could ask you the same thing," she said angrily, her fingers drumming on her comforter. "In fact, I AM asking you. What the hell do you want? And it had better be damn good, because if it's not, you're going to be eating pavement, buddy."

"I...I, uh..." //Snap out of it!//

Maria was glaring at him. He could feel her eyes. "Ok, is blacktop, like, a STAPLE in an alien diet or something? Cause I'm not hearing any kind of explanation here."

Michael took a deep breath. "I...I wanted to...apologize," he stammered, staring at the ground beneath her feet.

"Apologize? You?" She snorted again. "Yeah, that's a good one, Michael. I needed that after the hellish day I've had." She stood up, and his eyes followed her feet as she approached him. They stopped a foot away from his own.

He could see her crossing her arms, and her right foot began tapping. "Now, if that's all you have to say, I'd really like to go to bed. It's past my bedtime."

Michael resisted the urge to choke. "Don't you want to...you know, TALK?" he asked, darting his eyes to the side.

"About what?"

"This...situation."

"I have nothing to say," she said angrily. "I've said it all already. But you decided to ignore me. Now," she switched her weight to the other foot, "when you're ready to talk and LISTEN to me, come back. Until then, goodbye."

He didn't move.

"I said GOODBYE," Maria repeated, louder now. "And would you LOOK at me when I'm talking to you!" she added, reaching out a hand to grasp his chin.

Before he could pull his face away from her hand, she had tilted his head around so that she stared him dead in the eye. In that instant, it all disappeared. He saw golden hair and honey skin; rosebud lips and deep green emerald eyes. The smell of Maria was everywhere-- overpowering, bushwhacking him. He was ambushed, jumped from behind by memories he'd thought were safely stashed away in impenetrable lockboxes. Everything else was pushed to the back by the explosion.

"That's better," she said, eyes firm. "Now maybe we can have a CIVILIZED-" She never finished the sentence, because before she could, Michael had swooped in to capture her lips with his own, crushing her body against his chest.

******

She wasn't shocked. If anything, she was thankful. Maria didn't know if she could have taken another minute with him, alone in her bedroom, without this.

She fell easily into him, her hands sliding up his back to bury themselves in his hair. There was no tension in his shoulders, save what it took to hold her and squeeze the breath from her lungs. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling herself closer.

Eventually, he let her up for air. They panted against each other, foreheads touching, eyes closed.

"What...was that...about?" Maria gasped, holding him close.

"I'd forgotten...how...good..it felt," he replied breathlessly, and Maria opened her eyes to see him looking at her.

"Why have you stayed away so long?" she asked, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

She saw him wince slightly. "I...Let's not talk about that right now," he said huskily, smoothing his hands up and down her back. "Not now."

"So what do you want to talk about?" she murmured.

Michael's eyes found hers once more, and they were burning. "Who said I wanted to talk?" he whispered, leaning in to find her mouth again. His hand slipped under her camisole, and Maria felt her skin tingle beneath his fingers.

She leaned in to him, and decided the talking could wait.

*******

Her skin was smooth. Warm and smooth and soft as satin over silk. Michael traced his fingers up her back, dragging the camisole along behind, unable to fight the wave of awe that washed over him. She was...letting him touch her. And furthermore, he WANTED to touch her. A human. He wanted to touch a HUMAN.

"Mmmm. This feels so good," she murmured against his lips, tracing circles on his back. The touch felt muffled through the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

The impulse was too strong, and he pulled back just long enough to rip the t-shirt over his head and throw it to the side. Maria's eyes twinkled with amusement as he pulled her close again. "Don't waste any time, do you?" she teased, and Michael found himself actually smiling.

"You didn't know that already?"

"Let's just say I had my suspicions."

He dipped his head to bury his mouth in her neck. She threw her head back to allow him easier access, and he felt a thrill tear through him as she tunnelled her fingers into his hair.

"I've missed you," she whispered. He pretended not to hear.

When her hands started pushing lightly at his shoulders, he took the hint and drew back. "What? What's wrong?" he asked, dazed.

Maria smiled at him. "I don't like to waste time, either," she said simply, reaching over to hit the light switch. She hooked her fingers under the hem of her shirt, and, with a fluid motion, pulled it up and over her head, then tossed it aside, to land neatly atop his discarded t-shirt.

Michael stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. They were her nightclothes-- of course she wore nothing underneath them. But to be suddenly confronted with her bare chest-- which was even better in truth than in his late night fantasies-- was almost too much for him to take.

"M-Maria," he stuttered as she drew up to him and pressed her bare chest against his.

"Shut up and kiss me," she murmured.

Who was he to resist?

*****

Michael's mouth was on hers in an instant, and Maria rubbed herself against him, delighting in the low moan the movement elicited from him. She felt his arms tighten around her, his hands cupping her derrier, lifting her. Obligingly she went with him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her the short distance to the bed. There was no doubt in her mind what was going to happen this night. There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted it to happen.

The comforter felt cool against her bare back, and she arched away from it, pressing her chest harder against Michael's.

He hissed between his teeth as he drew back from her lips. "You had better stop doing that," he teased, "or this is going to be over before it begins."

She giggled. "Wouldn't want that," she agreed.

"No, we wouldn't."

"What now?"

Michael arched an eyebrow. "I was thinking...this." Hooking his thumbs into the elasticated waist of her pajama bottoms, he tugged them down her slender legs. Maria raised her feet to make it easier, and watched as he tossed the clothing away.

Sitting up on the bed, knees bent slightly, palms flat on the comforter, Maria smiled at him. "Now you," she purred.

With a deft motion, she pulled herself closer to him, straddling his lap where he sat on the middle of the bed. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she kissed him. Hard. With near bruising force.

Pulling back slightly, she let him gasp for air. "Take your shoes off," she panted.

He did it. Without even moving. The black boots just shot off his feet like dual cannonballs, bouncing against the opposite wall to land tidily side by side. His socks followed, and landed neatly, one inside each boot.

Maria glanced over her shoulder in amusement, then looked back at him, eyes twinkling. "Nice trick," she told him.

He grinned. "Yeah, well, I've been working on it for parties."

"I bet. Is everything about you that explosive?"

"Isn't that what we're going to find out?"

Maria smiled, and rubbed her chest against his again. She couldn't resist a pleased sigh as she felt the hot bulge that pressed against her stomach grow harder. "I think you're still too over-clothed for this," she told him, working a hand between them to tug at the button of his jeans. That done, she slowly--so...slowly-- dragged down the zipper of his fly, being sure to graze her knuckles over the straining bulge in his boxers.

Michael let out an explosive breath. "Don't...don't do that," he told her breathlessly, before wrapping his arms around her and spinning them around so that she was on the bed again, and he was holding himself over her with one arm while the other worked at pulling down his jeans.

Maria grinned, and laid a hand on his chest to still him. "Let me," she said softly, and began to squirm down the bed beneath him.

Michael held himself above her on both hands now, push-up style, and Maria moved down until she could easily grasp the top of his jeans. In a long, easy move, she slipped off the edge of the bed, pulling the jeans down his legs-- boxers, too. Michael had to lower himself back down to the bed as she did so, and he now laid on his stomach-- naked-- his face turned towards her, his eyes watching her every move.

Maria smiled as she stood. "And that just leaves these." She plucked at the waistband of her panties.

Michael answered her smile with one of his own, and he pushed himself into a sitting position. The sight of his erection made Maria's nipples harden painfully. "Allow me," he said in a husky voice.

Reaching out, he grasped her around the waist and pulled her closer to the bed. Maria was mesmerized by his eyes-- she couldn't look away. Not even when his hands slipped the thin cotton over her hips and down her legs. Not even when he drew her closer, so that she stepped out of the panties and stood between his knees. Not even when his hands smoothed over her backside, prickling her skin into goosebumps and making that secret part of her that was bared for the first time tingle in anticipation.

Michael's lips were on a level with her stomach. He gazed up at her warmly, a genuine smile on his lips. "I've wanted to do this for a long time," he told her.

Maria nodded, keeping her eyes on his. "I know," she replied. "Me, too."

"Are you ready?"

She nodded.

Michael gave her another reassuring smile, then looked away. And he dipped his head to her core.

******

Oh. God.

She tasted like spicy honey. The low-throated moan that escaped her as she dug her nails into his shoulders made his freed erection leap, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her legs to keep from falling forward off the bed.

Maria ground her hips against his face, her back arching. "Michael...oh, God..." she whimpered, dragging her nails over his shoulders

He parted her lower lips, and played along her ridges with his tongue. She was already damp, and getting wetter by the second. He was doing this to her. He was making her moan.

His lips found the swollen nub of her clit, and he sucked on it lightly. Maria let out a strangled cry. "Michael!"

After a minute, he pulled his mouth away, and looked up at her. Head thrown back, chest heaving with her labored breathing, she looked like a living sculpture, crafted in fine white marble, burnished by moonlight.

At his absence, she straightened, and gazed down at him, her face a mix of confusion and loss. "W-Why did you stop?" she asked. "I was...it was so close!"

Michael didn't answer. Instead, he slowly began to stand, keeping his eyes on hers. He paused briefly to lightly kiss each nipple, and run his tongue over both, making the hardened flesh pucker even more, and elicting a breathy moan from Maria.

Eventually, he stood tall in front of her, his erection a hairsbreadth away from her hot body. Michael fought down his baser instincts-- he was not going to rush this. He was not going to throw her onto the bed and slam into her like a jackhammer into concrete. She was too warm, too soft and moist for that.

He ducked his head, so that his lips brushed hers. Maria's hands still rested on his shoulders, and they tightened ever so slightly at the intimacy of the position. "Because when you come, I want to be there with you," he murmured against her mouth.

Her eyes searched his for a moment, and she smiled. Leaning closer, she pressed her lips lightly against his in a featherlight kiss, almost chaste in its tenderness. Which was in complete contrast to her hand, which slipped down over his chest to grasp him firmly.

Michael choked against her lips, and his arms tightened around her body as she stroked her delicate fingers up and down along his length. Breaking away from her lips, he gasped, "No! No, stop! I...I can't..."

Maria grinned wickedly at him, as her hand played along his erection, but she said nothing.

Michael was about two seconds away from losing it completely. With an animalistic growl, he swept Maria up off the floor, her legs wrapping reflexively around his waist. Her hand was forced away as he moved her, and he silently thanked whatever god was listening for that fact-- if she'd kept that up much longer, he would have had some pretty explaining to do.

Crushing his mouth down on hers, he backed her up, until she was squeezed tightly between his chest and the wall. Her fingers twined in his hair, and her nipples strained against his chest.

Breaking away from her lips again, he asked, "Comfortable?"

She glared at him. "Quit teasing me," she told him, but her eyes were sparkling. "Or I'll have to bite your tongue."

"Promise?"

She grinned, and pulled his lips back to hers to show just how completely she meant it.

******

His erection was resting along her soaked folds, and Maria was going slowly insane.

She devoured his lips, her palms pressing on either side of his face, while her lower body squirmed in a futile attempt to move him into her passage. Instead, the hardness pressed against her clit, his throbbing heat making the tiny nub pulse.

Eventually, he pulled his mouth away, and she whimpered in frustration. "Michael, please," she begged softly.

His eyes softened visibly, and he leaned in so that his forehead rested against hers. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked.

Maria nodded ever so slightly. "More than anything ever before," she answered truthfully.

Crooking a smile, he nodded back. "All right," he murmured.

He pulled back a little, positioning himself, then sank into her.

Maria arched her back against the wall, her nails digging into his shoulders. She gasped, her eyes wide, as he stretched her to impossible widths. She felt a sharp pain as something inside her tore, and she winced, the tendons in her throat standing out starkly for an instant.

Michael immediately froze. "Are you all right?" he asked quickly. "Because if you're not, we...we can stop."

She looked down quickly. "If you stop, I'll personally feed you to the junkyard dogs."

He chuckled, and the movement shook him where he rested within her, making the world swim with pleasure. She groaned and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to push him deeper.

Michael must have gotten the hint, because he sank his shaft farther, and she released a small cry as it rubbed against new places she'd never known existed.

"Not here," he whispered hoarsely in her ear.

"Wha-?" she mumbled.

"Not here, against a wall," he told her.

"Bed."

"Yeah."

Maria leaned forward, her arms twined loosely around his neck, her cheek resting on her forearms as he turned them around and carried her the short distance to the bed. She could just make out the comforter, sheets, and blankets flying down-- seemingly of their own accord-- before Michael was pressing her back into the pillows, attacking her lips again.

She arched up towards him, grinding her hips into his in a none-too-subtle gesture of frustration. Michael must have been paying attention, because he began moving within her again; fluid, easy motions, backed by a sense of nervous urgency.

Maria's hips, after a clumsy start, began to move in time with his. Something bright and burning was building in her belly. It made her limbs numb, and the entire room seemed to fade into fuzzy black and white as all her concentration focused on that pulsing fire in her lower body. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and raked her nails down his back, as his mouth left hers to suck on her collarbone.

She felt one of his hands snake between their bodies, and when he touched her throbbing clit, she bit back a scream of pleasure. Her hips slammed harder into his as he circled the swollen bundle of nerves. The pressure inside was building faster now, and she was going to explode soon. The feeling was so powerful, it scared her.

Until she remembered that it was Michael who was moving above her. She never had to be afraid of him.

******

Her inner walls were beginning to twitch. Michael knew she'd fly over the edge soon, and he'd go tumbling with her. He didn't think he could take that and retain his sanity.

How had this all started? He'd come here to...to... well, certainly not to make love to her. Certainly not to meld his body into hers, melting together like ice cream in the sun.

This was wrong. He shouldn't be doing this. Desmond was waiting outside, probably wondering where he was. Probably pacing back and forth and shaking his head in disappointment, while Michael was in here, five seconds from falling over the edge of a precipice he'd only ever dreamnt of reaching.

He forced his eyes open, and gazed down at the girl beneath him. Her eyes were closed, and she was biting her lower lip. Every breath was labored, and the sweat that coated her body sparkled in the moonlight. She looked like a shimmering apparition. In this light, he could imagine that she was alien-- a creation of cloud and sunlight that heaven had left on earth just for him. Just to tempt him away from who and what he was.

He shouldn't be doing this, he thought again.

He told his thoughts to fuck off. For this moment, he would forget who and what he was. Here and now, he was the man making Maria Deluca scream with ecstasy as her inner walls clenched around his shaft and stroked him tight, his name on her lips.

"Michael!"

He froze as his body responded, and he exploded silently inside her, with little more than a shuddering moan to signal he'd come at all. Michael could forget some things, but not all. And he just couldn't bring himself to call out her name.

******

MEANWHILE, AT THE HIGH SCHOOL...

"You guys, I am about two steps away from following Maria's lead," Liz Parker complained, cracking her back. "We're not getting anywhere, and it's..." She glanced at the clock, and groaned. "And it's almost one in the morning." She tried to fight back a yawn, and failed miserably. "We have school in the morning, remember? I think this can wait till tomorrow."

Max looked at her sympathetically. "I know you're tired, Liz," he said softly. "We all are." He seemed to be considering, then looked deeply into her eyes. "One more background check, and then we'll leave, all right?"

How could she ever resist those puppy dog eyes? Liz sighed loudly. "Fine," she caved, flopping back into her chair. "One more. Then we're gone."

"All right then. Who is the final contestant on the Price is Right?" Alex asked. They all chuckled. //It MUST be late...or rather, early, if we all thought that was funny.//

"Try...that guy," Isabel said, pointing to a name completely at random. They'd had a method to choosing names when they began this escapade-- at this point, they were all too tired to care.

Alex moved the mouse to the link, and clicked. There was a brief pause as it followed through, and then a short history of the man in question popped up on the screen, along with a small picture.

They all sat forward in their chairs, suddenly wide awake.

"Oh my God," Isabel breathed.

"It's...it's HIM, isn't it?" Alex asked in disbelief. "I mean, it doesn't LOOK like him, but...but it IS him, right?"

Max nodded, dazed. "Yeah."

Liz couldn't believe what she was seeing. The man in the tiny candid looked nothing like Desmond, but there was something...

"It's the eyes," she said softly. "Those are Desmond's eyes."

They all nodded in silent agreement.

"Oh God, I can't believe we found him," Isabel murmured.

"Alex, where does that link go?" Max asked, pointing to a link at the bottom of the screen.

Alex dragged the mouse to the link and clicked. There was a brief pause, and then a news story from the LA Times appeared on the screen. It looked like it had been scanned right out of the newspaper. The headline read, "Man Wanted in Wife's Homicide."

Barely any of them noticed the headline. They were all too fixated on the picture of the victim.

"Oh my God," Liz whispered. "It's Maria."

The caption identified her as Ruth Anne Visitor.

******

Desmond glared through the window. The hatchling had failed. Instead of doing his job, he'd gone soft and mushy over a HUMAN, and now they were lying there like two lovesick pigs. If he weren't so angry, he'd have leapt through the window and beaten the youngling to within an inch of his life.

But no. That would never do.

He glanced at the moon. The night was still young. The hatchling had time yet. He would give him a little longer-- extend the test. Strengthen the boy's resolve. And if it wasn't done by dawn... Well, Desmond knew when it was time to take things into his own hands.

And when it was time to tie up loose ends.

******

Michael held the sleeping girl, and stared up at the ceiling. She'd fallen asleep quickly after their coupling, nestled into his side like an extension of his body. He could feel her breath tickling his ribs. It made him want to sigh, but he repressed the urge. That might wake her up.

What had he done? Why had he done it? Raising his free hand, he covered his eyes and winced as the questions assailed him. His shoulder was aching again, reminding him of who he was, and why he had come here, and who had sent him.

It was too much. Michael didn't want to think right now. He wanted to forget again, like he'd forgotten earlier, lost in her arms and lips and honey-taste.

Rolling onto his side, he gazed down at Maria's sleeping face. She looked even more beautiful when she was asleep, and the worries of the world weren't clouding her eyes. When she could be completely innocent.

Michael didn't think he'd ever been innocent.

Trailing his fingers down Maria's side, he slipped his hand between her legs and began to stroke her again. She mumbled something and shifted position. He knew she would wake up soon, and he could lose himself in her again-- swallowed like a viper in quicksand.

Dipping his head, Michael found her breast by memory, and laved her nipple, feeling it harden under the rough wetness of his tongue. He sucked the pink nub into his mouth, and tenderly began to suckle.

Maria's back arched, and he knew she was awake even before her fingers tangled in his hair. "Michael?" she moaned.

He couldn't answer. He wouldn't answer. That would break the spell. So he just continued to stroke her, and taste her, reveling in the dampness that was growing with every touch of his hand. Enjoying the soft whimpers and happy sighs that she gave him like a gift.

This was what he wanted right now. To ignore the world outside the window, and just disappear into Maria. To touch her hair, and taste her honey, and forget how easily her neck would snap between his alien fingers.

******

Go to Part 5: Late Night Confessions