|"Do All You Want"|
Disclaimer: Roswell, the characters, and situations are owned by the WB. No infringement intended.|
|Maria stood above her suitcase which lay upon her bed. She was leaving. She would do it this time. She was going to pack her suitcase and leave. But she had nothing that was worth packing. Instead she grabbed her backpack, shoved a handful of underwear into it and a change of clothes, and headed towards the door. As she walked towards it, and pressed her hand onto the latch, the knock resounded from the other side. She jumped a mile. Shit. Patrick must be home. She wouldn’t have time to hide her bag. He would find out what she had done. He would punish her. |
But no, he would have just used his keys to get in. It must be some Jehovah’s’ witnesses. They never got any other visitors now that Alex and Liz had moved away. But neither knew what had become of her either. She didn’t blame them. Their lives were probably just as tumultuous.
Her hand once again came in contact with the latch and she opened it slowly, ready to shoo away the Jehovah’s witnesses. But instead, her bruised and soft face froze at a sight from her past. Standing in front of her was, although older, the very same Michael Guerin who had left her stranded those ten years ago.
“I..I..” She stuttered not able to get any words out of her mouth. She paused and collected herself, taking in every inch of Michael. No longer was he the rebellious boy he had been when she had known him, but before her stood a man. He had even flattened his hair from it’s old spikes.
“Nice hair” she managed to slip out before her brain corrected her. Ten years, and all she could say was “nice hair”?
She opened the door fully to face him, and breathed in quickly as her saw her appearance. What she had become.
“Maria?” He asked softly?
“Michael. What..” she started to ask but was cut off.
“What happened to you?” His fingers delicately skimmed the surface of her wounded skin, her flesh tingling under his touch. She recoiled slightly however, and adopted an demanding stance.
“I’m not the only one that has some explaining to do Michael.”
“Well invite me in then.”
Without waiting for her approval, Michael brushed past her, and into the small apartment.
|Part 3 | Index|
|Max/Liz | Michael/Maria | Alex/Isabel | UC Couples | Valenti | Other | Poetry | Crossovers | AfterHours|