How Deep is That?
by Mnemosyne

DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They are the property of all those nice folks at the WB and whatever other parent companies own them. Do not sue me, because I am but a simple college student, and all you would receive is a beat up dorm fridge.

SUMMARY: Michael is shot, and Maria rescues him. While they're on the run, they do some bonding.

PAIRING: Maria/Michael (they're so CUTE together, ain't they? ;)

RATING: tenuous PG-13, leaning towards R, for adult situations, strong language, and allusions to violence.

DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first! I'll be happy to send it to you! :)

NOTES: I'm writing this fic after only having seen two episodes of "Roswell:" "The Pilot" and "Monsters." Because of this, there are bound to be some inaccuracies that crop up as the series progresses. So when it comes to making up "power" limitations, etc, I am TOTALLY acting of my own mind, and it has NOTHING to do with the show. I'm just making this stuff up, letting the Muse take me where she will, and having a little fun on the way. Hope you enjoy! :)

Also, for atmosphere. I almost incessantly listened to the Buffy: the Vampire Slayer soundtrack as I typed this, especially the song "Lucky" by BifNaked.

EMAIL: Nice comments only, please! To [email protected]

 

"The thing I realized is...the fact that my life basically sucks is a good thing. It's easier. We always have to be able to leave, pack a suitcase. Go somewhere else. Maybe ten years from now, maybe a week from now, maybe tomorrow. My advice? Don't get in too deep, Maximillian. It only makes us weaker."

-Michael, "The Morning After"

"Oh shit! Oh shit, shit! Michael? You OK? Oh shit, shit, SHIT!"

Maria Deluca's hands clenched the wheel of her little red car in a whitened-knuckled grip. //They saw him. Oh my gosh, they saw him! She glanced at the passenger seat, where Michael Guerin sat, clutching his left shoulder, an expression of pain riddled across his face. The hand he used to grip his shoulder was stained a slick, bright red. Because he was bleeding.

Oh, God, he was REALLY bleeding!

Maria let out a low moan and looked back to the road, stepping even harder on the gas pedal. "Michael? Oh, crap. Please, man, talk to me. Let me know I'm not driving around a dead...guy, alien, whatever."

There was silence for a second, until Michael said in a strained voice, "Keep your eyes on the road, Maria. I don't feel like dying today."

The blonde girl couldn't resist a bark of sarcastic laughter at his statement. "Well neither do I, and getting shot at in alleys is not my idea of a healthy lifestyle!"

"You didn't get shot at. I did."

"But I could have! And anyway, I don't really like having some alien teenager DIE in my passenger seat!" She fumed for a minute. "And anyways, aren't you supposed to be able to heal stuff like that? That's what Max did for Liz."

Michael shook his head delicately. "Not...for ourselves. Not when it's...this bad. Then one of the others….has to do it." He hissed as the small car plowed over a shallow ditch in the road, bouncing him in his seat.

Maria winced. "Sorry," she apologized.

"No problem," he groaned.

There was silence for a few seconds while Maria continued to fret behind the wheel. "Are you going to be all right?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Michael choked out. "We...heal faster than...regular humans. Just gotta find somewhere...to hole up for a while."

"Right. Right, of course," she babbled. "Hole up somewhere. No problem. Just gotta hole up." She continued muttering to herself as they skimmed along the dusty New Mexico road, the sun settling slowly in the west.

******

The "somewhere" appeared a few minutes later, in the form of a run-down motel called the Lucky Billiard. Its flickering neon sign showed a pair of disembodied arms wielding a pool cue, striking a billiard ball into a corner pocket over and over again in a never ending loop. The whole place gave Maria the creeps, even more so since it was almost dark. But it was a stopping point, and she didn't know this area of New Mexico well enough to find somewhere better. So she pulled in.

Michael woozily opened his eyes and looked at the peeling paint of the motel office. "Home sweet home," he croaked.

"Don't I wish," Maria replied, pawing through her purse. She withdrew her hand, clutching a wad of cash, and Michael's eyes widened with disbelief. "What?" she defended. "It's my emergency shopping fund."

She didn't wait for a reply, just pushed open her door and jogged into the office. When she emerged a few minutes later, a small portion of the cash was missing, and she clutched a tiny key on a neon pink key chain in the shape of an 8-ball.

Slipping back into her seat, she started the engine and backed up. "Room 24," she told him. "Far end."

******

The "2" was dangling upside down on the door to the room, but otherwise, it didn't look like too bad of a place for $50 a night. Maria silently thanked God that it was dark by now, so that no prying eyes could see the blood on Michael's arm. With any luck, any voyeurs would think he was just drunk as she helped him from the car to the room.

Inside was decent. The dark wood paneling, tasseled lampshades, and pumpkin-orange carpet, thankfully clean, dated the room to at LEAST the seventies. But the bedclothes were fresh and modern, and the bathroom looked sanitary.

Maria helped Michael to sit on one of the overstuffed armchairs beneath the window. He winced as he eased himself down, but didn't cry out. She hoped that meant his healing abilities were working overtime to patch him up. She hoped they'd hurry up and finish the job. He looked far too pale. "You gonna be OK?" she repeated her question from the car.

He nodded. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Just get me something to clean this up with."

The blonde girl nodded and hurried off to the bathroom, pausing only long enough to pull the curtains closed. In the bathroom she turned up a dusty first-aid kit and a gray facecloth. She brought these back to Michael.

He nodded at her finds. "Not bad." He began to shrug out of his red-check over-shirt, flinching as he did.

"Hey, hey, hey!" she protested, moving closer. "Don't do that! You'll just reopen everything you've managed to heal! Let me do it." Kneeling on the floor in front of him, she reached carefully around his body to slip the shirt off his good arm, then, gently, over his wounded shoulder. He sucked in a breath as she did so, but that was all.

Maria looked at the blood that soaked his t-shirt. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. "Let's work on this in the bathroom," she fretted. "Or we'll get blood all over the place."

Michael nodded, and let her help him to the small bathroom. He sat gingerly on the lid of the toilet while Maria arranged the various healing implements on the floor of the bathtub. "What are we going to do about this?" she asked, plucking delicately at his ruined t-shirt.

He glanced at her. "Got any scissors?"

******

Maria was surprised she was able to remain so calm. First, not only was she cleaning up a BULLET wound, of all things, but she was cleaning up a bullet wound in an ALIEN'S shoulder. That alone should have had her shaking in her boots. Add to that the fact that she could easily have been killed just a few short hours earlier, that she'd been on the run for those few short hours, and that she was now in a strange motel in a strange section of the state, with no idea what curveball life would next throw at her, and her mood should have been described as terrified. But she wasn't. If anything, she was almost enjoying herself.

Because the alien with the bullet wound in his shoulder who'd almost managed to get her killed a few hours ago was REALLY HOT!

Maria would have been the first one to admit that she found Michael Guerin fascinating. Passionate yet brooding. Irritable yet loyal. Of course, now that she knew his background, she better understood these moods-- anyone would brood who had to hide the fact they were not of this Earth. But she still found him fascinating, and heartbreaking. He so desperately wanted to find others of his kind! She couldn't begin to imagine how lonely his life must be.

What Maria would NOT offer up to immediate scrutiny was the fact that she had always had a crush on the frequently dour, but always dashing, Michael Guerin. She'd never told anyone, not even Liz, but she'd always watched him with the corner of her eye when she knew no one was looking. He was so beautiful! Like a young David Ducovny, she'd decided one day in history class, as she paid far too much attention to his studious profile than was healthy for her education-- her grades had plummeted that year. Being forced to cut him out of his t-shirt with a pair of blunt scissors had set her cheeks to blazing, and she prayed he hadn't noticed.

"So what were you doing snooping around Sheriff Valenti's office like that anyway?" she asked, hoping that chatting with him would take her mind off his well-toned torso and muscular arms.

Michael's face darkened. "He has it," the young man offered cryptically. "Somewhere. I know he does."

"Has what?"

"I don't know." His frustration was evident. "Something. Evidence. A clue to our past. Others like us." He let out a loud sigh. "I don't know. There's got to be something in that office. If I could just find it..." He trailed off, letting his silence speak for him

Maria paused for a moment and looked up from where she knelt before him on the tile floor. His hazel eyes were sad and lonely, and it broke her heart. She reached up from cleansing his wound and touched his cheek. "I'm sure you will someday," she reassured him.

Michael smiled slightly. "Thanks."

Maria smiled back, but it quickly faded as another thought occurred to her. "Do you think they saw you?" she asked.

Michael's face grew grim again. "I don't know. I don't think so. The sun would have been in their eyes, whoever it was. Which is lucky for me, or this hole wouldn't be in my SHOULDER right now." He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Why were you there when you were? Why not at least wait until night?"

"Because they weren't there!" he growled. "At least, they weren't supposed to be. How was I to know career day at the little kids' school got out early?"

The look of consternation on his face was so complete it was comical, and Maria couldn't resist a chuckle at his expense, despite their situation. He shot her a curious look, which was so funny on top of the frustration of a moment before that she had to sit back against the tub and laugh.

"What?" he asked.

"You...you just looked...so...so cute!" she gasped out. "Like a...a lost puppy!"

He looked hard at her for a moment, then slowly, his face softened. "Woof," he said quietly.

This sent Maria off into another gale of laughter, and this time, Michael joined her, albeit with less force, so as not to reinjure his shoulder.

Eventually, the laughter died down, and they just sat there, gazing at each other across the brief distance between them. There was something in his eyes...Maria couldn't quite place it. It was powerful, and new, and.....hot. Definitely hot.

Clearing her throat, the blonde girl stood quickly, breaking the spell. Making a show of dusting off nonexistent specks of dirt, she said, "Well, that looks like the best I can do for you. It's all up to those alien healing whatchamacallits that you have to finish up the job." Her cheeks were flaming, and she could have screamed from embarrassment.

Luckily, Michael wasn't looking at her. He was examining his clean shoulder, blood washed away, the only sign of a bullet hole being a dark red circle scar. "Yeah," he agreed, still not looking at her. "This looks good. Um, thanks, Maria."

She stopped moving and dared a glance in his direction. If she hadn't known better she would have thought he was....could he be blushing, too? "You're welcome," she replied softly.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Maria felt like a complete moron. Here was this gorgeous guy...well, OK, ALIEN, and all she could do was stand here staring at her navel. What had happened to her guy instincts? They must not jive with alien physiology. "So, what now?" she asked, trying to alleviate the silence.

Michael shook his head. "I don't think we should call the others. It's too risky-- we don't know WHAT Valenti's done to the phone lines. They're bound to have heard about what happened, and when they don't see us, they'll put two and two together. Isabelle will get into of our dreams, and we can tell her all about it then." He sat back, and looked up at her. "I don't know about you, but I intend to take a shower, check out the news, and then get some sleep."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "Why check the news?"

Michael's face darkened. "I wanna know if they know it was me."

Maria nodded minutely, face solemn.

A minute passed.

Finally, Michael looked up. "So, you want the first shower, or do I get it?"

******

Maria sat on the bed nearest the wall, pulling a complimentary comb through her damp hair, listening to the shower pattering in the background and watching images flicker across the staticy screen of the television.

There had been quite a debate about who would get to take their shower first. Despite his offer for her to go first, Michael had kicked up quite a fuss when she told him she would be taking the first shower, thank you very much. He called in the I-Need-It-More-Than- You Argument, the I-Called-Dibs Rule, and the I-Was-Shot-A-Few-Hours-Ago-So-I-Get-Priority Law. Maria countered with the Grossly-Set-Upon-Earthling Claim, the I-Did-You-A-Favor-So-You-Owe-Me Doctrine, and the winning move, the Didn't-You-Just-Offer-Me-First-Chance Corollary. He'd had to acquiesce then, and she'd taken a deliberately long, deliciously warm shower. Now she sat, combing her hair, trying very hard to both watch the news and NOT pay attention to the fact that there was a very sexy, very available, and very NAKED alien taking a shower in the next room. News, girl, she reminded herself. Murder, drugs, sex and violence and sex DON'T THINK ABOUT SEX!

Almost as though he could hear her thoughts Oh God, what if he can!? Michael shut off the shower. She heard the scuttling sound of the curtain being pulled back, and forced herself not to imagine what he would look like stepping out of that shower, dripping wet, reaching for a towel....

"And in other news, a shooting in downtown Roswell late this afternoon has police baffled." The anchorman's voice pulled Maria from her unwilling trance. "A suspect was seen fleeing from the Roswell Police Department at approximately 3:30 this afternoon. Details are sketchy, but according to reports, the suspect had been in the process of looting the police station when he was interrupted by the arrival of the Sheriff and his Deputy. Roswell's Sheriff Valenti opened fire on the fleeing suspect, and believes he managed to at least wound the man, who is described as a young man in his late teens to early twenties, though no exact description could be made. Residents with any information are urged to contact their local authorities."

With that story over, the newsman moved on to Sports and Weather, and Maria tuned him out, breathing a deep sigh of relief as she fell back against the pillows, eyes closed. //They DIDN'T see him!// Or her, for that matter. When he'd come stumbling into the parking lot behind the Crashdown Cafe and virtually fell into the passenger seat of her little red car, what could she do? Certainly not hang around THAT popsicle stand with a wounded alien bleeding all over her upholstery. They don't know it was us! She purred happily.

"Good news?" Maria's eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright as Michael emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in his jeans, his good arm toweling off his wet hair.

"Michael!" she yelped. "What are you doing there!?"

He froze, puzzled. "Um, drying my hair?"

Maria felt her cheeks go bright red for the millionth time that day, and she giggled nervously. "Oh. Uh, right. Of course."

Michael looked at her quizzically for a moment, then shrugged and crossed to his bed, nearer the window. Tossing the towel across the foot of the bed, he plunked himself down on the edge with a deep sigh. Snagging the comb from where she'd left it on the nightstand, he began to pull it through his hair. "So, was it good news?" he asked.

Maria was too enthralled with the sight of his muscles rippling as he combed his hair; she barely heard his question. "Huh?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I said was it GOOD NEWS?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. They didn't see you." She pulled her eyes away from him, and tried to refocus on the television screen. It was a commercial now. Trojan condoms. God, could her life get any worse?

Turning back to him, she tried to keep her thoughts chaste as she spoke. "How's the arm?""

He shrugged, and she saw his features tighten a little in pain. "Not bad. A bit sore, and a little stiff, but otherwise...."

"Want a massage?" Oh my gosh, what the HELL am I saying! Maria tried to stop her tongue, but the damned thing just kept running. "I learned how to last year during Intern-week, when everyone got to chill after midterms. People tell me I give good ones." God, did I just SAY that? "Might help."

Michael was looking at her closely, and she felt her pulse start to speed up under the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'd appreciate that."

Standing slowly, Maria crossed the brief distance between the two beds and sat down behind him as he turned so his back was to her. Her hands were shaking as she reached for his shoulder. Gently, so as not to hurt him, she began to massage the muscle of his shoulder. He was still warm and slightly damp from the shower, and she found her chaste thoughts rapidly disappearing as her fingers worked out knots and eased his soreness.

Michael let out a low groan as she pressed especially hard on one knot in his shoulder. She immediately pulled back. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! I'll stop now."

"No!" The force in his voice surprised her.

"Why not?" she asked, perplexed.

He turned slightly and looked at her, and Maria was shocked to see her unchaste thoughts mirrored in his eyes. "Because it...it felt good," he opted lamely.

A small smile quirked at Maria's lips. "You know," she said, girding up her courage, "there are better things than massages for easing sore muscles."

Michael's eyes widened ever so slightly, but he didn't back off. "Oh yeah? And what're those?"

Maria didn't reply. Instead, she leaned in very slowly and pressed her lips ever so gently against his shoulder. She felt his muscles tighten briefly, then loosen. He tasted like clean salt and smelled like Dove soap; it took a long minute for her to pull away. "Well, that's one," she murmured, looking cautiously into his hazel eyes.

To her amazement, the eyes that looked back at her seemed as hungry as her own thoughts. "That certainly works," Michael responded huskily. "But how about this?" Slowly, he moved in, and kissed her. On the lips. FULL on the lips.

Maria had never been more shocked, or more pleased, in her entire life. She felt muscles she hadn't even noticed were tight begin to loosen as his lips lingered against hers. Her arms ran up his muscular arms and wrapped loosely around his neck as his wound their way around her waist and the kiss intensified.

Neither one spoke when they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting lightly against one another. They were too busy gasping for air. Eventually, Maria opened her eyes and gazed into Michael's. A foolish grin spread across her face. "Wow," she breathed.

He smiled back. "Yeah."

Her fingers burrowed into his hair. "That works, too," she teased.

He chuckled. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

Maria pulled back slightly and looked directly into his eyes. There was enjoyment there, and longing, but also...embarrassment? Shame? "Sorry?" she asked, genuinely perplexed. "What for?"

He averted his gaze, a sure sign he didn't want to confront her. "For just taking advantage of you like that. Without asking, without making sure you wanted to...You just looked so great sitting there, and I've wanted to kiss you for so long, and I'd never done it before-"

"You've never kissed a girl before?" Maria interjected, shocked.

Michael shook his head. "No ties," he said simply.

Maria couldn't for the life of her figure out why those two simple words made tears spring to her eyes-- maybe because it seemed a shame that such a fine specimen of flesh should have been wasted for so long. Or maybe because she found it so touching that he would break his vow of no entanglements just for the opportunity to kiss her. Whichever it was, she reached out and gently cupped his cheek, turning his face to look at her again. Smiling, she whispered, "Thank you."

Now it was his turn to look at her quizzically. "What for?"

"For kissing me," she answered. "I know exactly how long you've wanted to kiss me, because I've wanted it for that long, too-- since the first time I met you." She smiled. "If I hadn't wanted to kiss you, I would have let you know. TRUST me. You'd be flat on your back on the floor right now, with a serious concussion."

He laughed softly. "Yeah, I suppose I would, wouldn't I?"

Maria nodded adamantly. "You betcha."

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments longer, just gazing happily at each other.

"Well," Michael finally broke in, "seeing as how we've kissed once now, would you be totally against doing it again sometime?"

Maria raised one eyebrow seductively. "If you DON'T kiss me again, I think I'll inflict that concussion I was talking about out of sheer spite."

He smiled broadly, and leaned in. "Guess I'll just have to guarantee that doesn't happen," he teased before his lips took hers again. There was very little talking after that.

******

Maria woke up the next morning feeling warm, if slightly fuzzy-headed, and with the distinct feeling that she was not alone in her bed.

For a second, she was disoriented, but then the events of the previous day thrust themselves back into her memory, and she smiled. Turning over slowly, she snuggled up against Michael's bare chest, her own clothes getting in the way of feeling his flesh against her own. She pouted silently, but decided it really WAS best they didn't get TOO intimate, seeing as how last night was only their first...well, date, she supposed was the best description. A warm blush worked it's way into her cheeks, though, as she remembered the fairly...INTENSE make out session they'd embarked on instead. Michael had never kissed another girl before, and Maria wanted to make sure his first experiences with the act were more than just memorable. Judging by the grin he'd worn as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, she must have succeeded.

Looking at him now, she couldn't resist a warm smile. His face was so calm when he slept-- the only time he could seemingly escape the demons that chased him, real and imagined, in the waking hours. Reaching up, she tenderly caressed his cheek.

Michael mumbled something in his sleep, but didn't wake up. Much as she could have watched him forever, a glance at the clock told Maria it was time to be up and about. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she said softly. "It's past noon."

"Just five more minutes," he murmured, childlike, snuggling down deeper into the pillows.

Maria giggled, and punched him lightly in the arm. "Nope, buddy. Isabel hopped into my dream last night, and I told her where we were. They're going to come get us in a few hours. I'd like to be presentable when they show up."

He opened one eye and looked at her. "Why'd she get into your dream and not mine?"

Maria smiled wickedly. "She said she stopped in on yours, but it was a bit too...ADULT for her tastes," Michael flushed bright red at that, "so she decided to check mine out instead." Maria blushed herself. "Luckily for the both of us, she didn't pop up in mine a few minutes earlier."

He raised an eyebrow at her comment, then chuckled. "Do I HAVE to get up?" he moaned, rolling onto his back.

Maria propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. Thank God her hair was presentable-- one of the pluses to a short hairdo. "Yes, you do."

"Why?"

"What if I told you I'd make it worth your while?"

Michael's eyes snapped open at that. "Then I'd say lead me to the java."

She burst out laughing. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you like me anyway."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because if you hate me, then I would like to see what you do for the guys you love."

She sat up slowly and gazed down at him, her fingers making lazy circles on his chest. "I've never loved anyone before," she said tenderly. "I'd love to find that out, too."

He captured her hand in his own, and they gazed at each other for a minute.

"Do we REALLY have to get up?" Michael asked again, but he wasn't pleading this time.

Maria smiled. "Well, maybe a few more minutes," she answered, and leaned down to touch her lips to his and take full advantage of the time at hand.

The End