FanFic - Michael/Maria
"Not Even the Rain"
Part 6
by loki
Disclaimer: The characters… not mine, well except for the two I made up. The poem at the end is not mine, it's by e.e. cummings.
Summary: It's a future-fic, set when they are all about 25. While it's primarily a M/M fic, there are lotsa people and issues popping up.
Category: Michael/Maria
Rating: PG-13
“He just seems so sad,” Maria took another spoonful of ice cream. “I didn’t know what to do. Now, ‘Angry Michael,’ I can handle. ‘Bitter, pissed-off Michael’? I’ve had a lot of experience with him. But this? All I want to do is just hug him and hold him, but I can tell that’s the last thing that he wants.”

Liz reached for the whipped cream canister and sprayed a small mountain on top of her sundae. “Did he say anything about the dreams?”

“Not really. Then again, I didn’t exactly approach it in the best of ways.”

Giggling, Liz shook her head at her best friend. “You think?”

Maria rolled her eyes and threw a cherry at the brunette. “Shut up.”


“So… nothing?” Max brought in three glasses of soda and placed them on the coffee table.

Isabel hadn’t left Michael’s side since he’d come over, even though it was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with the attention. Max sat in the chair across from them.

“Nothing.” Michael stated flatly. “I thought I had something twice – but it was nothing. Once up near Buffalo, the other over in England.”

“Wait – how did you get to England?” Isabel asked, shocked.

Michael smirked. “I learned how to play with computers. Funny how a little information and skill goes a long way.”

“Is that where you’ve been most of the time? In England? In Europe?” Max asked.

“No.” Michael shook his head. “Maybe a year or so. Did the wandering thing… any time I heard of a sighting, I tried to get there. But most of the people I met were like the ones at that convention in Roswell. If they weren’t complete idiots, they were convinced that we are vicious creatures hell-bent on taking over the universe.”

Reaching for her drink, Isabel sighed. “There are a lot of stupid people out there. That’s why it’s better to have people who understand you.” Max shot her a warning glance, but she ignored it. “Michael, if it’s been like that, why didn’t you come home? Or called. I would have been happy with a phone call, just to know that you were alright.”

Michael shrugged his shoulders and looked down. “What would I have said, Isabel? That I screwed up again? I’m tired of being the fuck-up of the bunch. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s about more than just you?” Max jumped to his feet.


“Isabel – don’t “Max” me,” he snapped at her. “You wanted to kill him, remember?”

Michael’s head whipped around to face Isabel, his eyes questioning her motives. Isabel looked at him, then glared at Max. “And you said to hear him out. That’s what I’m doing, hearing him out.”

“Hearing him out about what? I’m not hearing much of anything. You’ve been doing most of the talking tonight.” Max yelled back at her.

“What do you want me to do, Max? Have the three of us sit here silent all night?” She sat back into the couch. “At least *I’m* trying.”

“Trying? Maybe *we* aren’t the ones who should be trying.”

“You know what? I think I’ll just let you two finish this discussion on your own – I’m leaving.” Michael stood up and walked to the door.

“Fine, just go.” Max grumbled, not looking at Michael. “That’s what you do best.”

Michael paused and glanced over his shoulder at them. Isabel could see the pained expression on his face, as if he was giving up on one of the last things he was holding onto. He shrugged his shoulders and continued out the door.

“Michael!” Isabel called after his retreating figure. “Dammit,” she cried, covering her face with her hands.


Maria would have never heard the light rapping on the front door if she hadn’t been listening for it. But she had been waiting all night. She barreled down the staircase and opened the door, hand on hip.

“Things didn’t go so well with the Evanses?”

Michael just looked at her.

“C’mon, then.” She turned and hopped up two steps. “Just – ”

“Lock it behind me.” Michael finished.

Maria smiled and ran back up to her apartment. Michael entered a few seconds later, and she noticed that he appeared to be even more haggard than before. Leaning against the doorframe, Michael surveyed her place. It was almost exactly how he would have pictured it – how he had pictured it – when he’d think about her and where she was. There was quite the eclectic mix of… whatever she had found and decided would be a perfect addition to her world. Strange colour combinations – 50s kitsch next to eastern icons – candles everywhere. Best of all, it smelled like Maria. She had made her home into a complete extension of herself.

Maria watched him look around, not moving, as if he were afraid to disrupt anything. “You want anything? Something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “Just kind of tired. It’s been a long night.”

Smiling, she opened the door to her room and tugged him in. “Lay down. I’m going to get water, I’ll be right back.” Michael walked past her and sat uncomfortably on her bed.

Maria washed the last of the dishes from the ice cream fest and poured herself a glass of water. She entered her room quietly, stopping in the middle of the doorway when she saw him asleep on her bed. He looked like a little boy in the middle of the pillows, with a thin blanket pulled over him. Maria set the water down on the nightstand and walked over, carefully unlacing his shoes and taking them off. Then she went to the closet to get some extra blankets and covered him up. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek softly. Turning out the light, Maria grabbed a blanket and went to set herself up on the couch.



The blonde jolted awake, almost falling out off the couch. She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to figure out where she was and what she’d heard. The apartment was silent and the clock read 4:07. There wasn’t even a random car driving down the road to explain the explosive sound. Exhausted, Maria sank back down into the pillows and closed her eyes.


She jumped up and flew into the bedroom. Michael was curled up in the fetal position in the middle of her bed, eyes clenched tightly, shaking violently. Her fingers recoiled quickly when she touched his arm. His skin felt like it had been ravaged by some sort of fever. The sheets below him were soaked in sweat and hot tears were spilling down his cheeks. Maria quickly ran to the kitchen to get a wet cloth to cool him down, then sat beside him.

Michael, sensing that she was close, pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist. He was still entrapped in a dream-state, but his twitching was quelled slightly by her touch. Maria wiped the sweat and tears from his face, trying to maintain her composure. All of a sudden, she understood the fear in Lydia’s eyes. This was like nothing she’d ever seen him, or Max, or Isabel go through. He seemed unreachable, and she was afraid to let him stay in that horrid place, but didn’t know if waking him up would make it worse.

“Maria,” Michael whimpered into her stomach. He was still crying, just not as forcefully as before. She stroked his head lovingly, her other hand massaging his upper arm.

“I’m here… I’m here.” Maria kept repeating over and over, not knowing what else to do. Surprisingly, it seemed to help things. His body curled up around hers tightly, but the heartbeat that she could feel thumping against her hip had slowed to a regular rhythm. After half an hour, his body had cooled to a more normal temperature, and an hour later, he was sleeping peacefully.

Maria finally relaxed against the pillow she had placed between her back and the wall. Her fingers delicately caressed his face, and she took some comfort in the fact that Michael was in her arms again. She felt her eyes closing against her will again, but now that Michael had seemed to calm down, Maria finally let herself drift off as well. Hopefully, things would make more sense in the morning.

Part 5 | Index | Part 7
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