FanFic - Michael/Maria
"Not Even the Rain"
Part 7
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
Liz mindlessly flipped through the newspaper as she ate her cereal. Isabel emerged from the guest room, her legs sluggishly dragging her along. She walked over and grabbed the orange juice and a glass, then leaned against the counter opposite Liz.

“Morning,” Liz said cheerfully.

“Mmm hmmm…” Isabel nodded. She’d barely been able to sleep all night, getting out of bed simply because she got tired of staring at walls.

“How did everything go last night? You guys weren’t here when I got home.”

Isabel took a sip of juice and shook her head. “Not well. Michael stormed out – I tried to follow him, but I don’t really know where I’m going around here. Max and I ended up at some all-night diner, I think we got in around three.”


Max padded out from their bedroom and stood next to Liz. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her head. She smiled in response, and leaned into him.

“I hope we didn’t wake you. I tried not to make much noise.” He rubbed her back.

Liz folded up the newspaper and pulled away. “Nope. I was pretty much dead out as soon as I got home. I knew that I had to get up early – I’ve got a meeting with one of my students before class.”

“Yeah, I should head out soon too. I wanted to go for a run before I had to leave.” He drank some of Isabel’s juice.

“Oh, that’s right,” Liz said. “Friday morning breakfasts at Maria’s - tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Can you bring her the envelope on the table? I forgot to take it to her last night.”

Max nodded and stuck the envelope in the waistband of his shorts.. He turned to Isabel. “Will you be okay until I get home? You have the keys, right?”

Resting her head against her fist, Isabel nodded, eyes half-closed. “I’ll be here. Pretending to be awake.” ‘Pretending not to worry,’ she thought to herself.


Michael rolled onto his back and yawned. There was something different about this morning – no headaches, no feeling like he’d been beaten the night before. He actually felt… well-rested. It had been a couple of years since he’d woken up without the immediate need to find something to take the edge off.

His legs were still wrapped around her body. He felt her hand still in his hair, gently cradling his head. Michael rubbed his eyes and opened them slowly. The canopy he was expecting above him wasn’t there. The blanket pulled over him didn’t have that tacky barnyard animal theme stitched into it. Everything even smelled different. Not bad, just different – yet familiar.

“You’re awake,” Maria murmured down to him.

Her voice made Michael’s heart jump. He mentally ran through the night before: Got dinner. Went to Max’s. Isabel slapped him. They talked. Then they yelled. Then he left and walked straight back to Maria’s without thinking. She left him alone in her room and he closed his eyes for a minute, to relax. And now, it was morning and she was in bed with him.

“Yeah, I’m awake.” Michael uncurled himself from her and stretched out. “Did I, um, fall asleep?”

“Pretty much right after you got here.”

“Oh.” He suddenly felt kind of embarrassed about being so rude. “Did you~”

“I slept on the couch.”

“Oh.” Michael thought about that for a moment. “How~”

“You called. I came.” Maria arched her shoulders against the wall, trying to appease her tense muscles. “Do you mind if I move down? This is not the most comfortable position to be in for five hours.”

“Of course.” Michael inched over on the bed, giving her more room. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sliding down, Maria let out a little sigh of comfort. “Wow, that feels so much better.” She turned her head and smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, actually. I woke up feeling… okay.”


The room became silent again. Michael stared up at the ceiling, feeling foolish and relieved at the same time. He knew why the sense of foolishness was there, but he couldn’t figure out why he was so relaxed. He glanced at her for a second, then back up at the mobile that was hanging above the bed.

“I guess you want some kind of explanation.”

Maria wasn’t sure if she wanted to know, not yet anyway. It was hard enough just getting through the night worrying about Michael - she hadn’t even begun to process it in her own mind. “You don’t have to tell me right now, if you don’t want to.”

It was an easy out. She always gave him an easy out when she knew that he needed it. For as insufferable and annoyingly inquisitive as Maria could be, she never pushed him to talk or do things when he wasn’t ready. That was something else that he missed about having her in his life. He missed her knowing him so well.

Michael rolled over on his side and shrugged his shoulders. “The thing is – I don’t really know what’s going on when I sleep. Every morning, no matter what, I wake up feeling like I’ve been dragged down a highway by a speeding sixteen-wheeler. It’s only when I wake up with someone else and I see the look of horror on their face that I know it happened again.”

“How long has it been going on?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe two and a half years.”

“God, Michael.” Maria touched his hand.

Michael rubbed his thumb against hers. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve made it this long in one piece, I’ll be fine.” He tried to sound convincing.

“Maybe Isabel~”

“No. Maybe Isabel nothing.” He snapped.


“No.” He stated again.

“You can’t expect me not to say anything.”

“Oh, I know that you are incapable of keeping quiet about such things.” Michael dropped her hand to the bed. “But I’m not getting them involved. They made it perfectly clear last night that they wished I’d never shown up.”

Maria sat up and shook her head. “I don’t believe that. They’ve been concerned about you for so long. I mean, one of the reasons that Isabel moved back to Roswell was that she wanted to be there in case you came home. And Max – he feels guilty that he let you go on alone. He thinks about you every day.” She watched his face soften as her words settled in. “You should go talk to them again.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Michael.” She said, exasperated.

“Maria.” He mocked her tone.

Lying back down, Maria grimaced in pain as her back hit the bed. Her head began to throb – the tension that had returned was affecting all of her body.

“How’s your back?” Michael asked, feeling responsible.

“Sore, but I’ll live.”

Watching her, he wished that he could just run his hands down her body and make all the pain go away. Actually, he simply wanted to touch her again – and that seemed to be the most innocent way to do it. But he knew that it wouldn’t do any good, he couldn’t make it better. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

Maria laughed and shook her head. “You’ll never get it, will you?”


She closed her eyes. “Forget it.”

“No – tell me.” Michael insisted.

“You go talk to Isabel, and I’ll tell you.” She heard him mumbling under his breath. “Hey – for everything you put me through last night, you at least owe me that.” Maria punched him softly on the arm.

Michael started grumbling again, then covered his eyes with his hands. He sighed. “Just Isabel.”

“Just Isabel.” Maria acquiesced.

“No dream talk.”

“No dream talk.”

There was a very long pause – Maria wasn’t sure if she was able to convince him or not. But she knew that she couldn’t help him alone, and that as much as she wanted to know him, there were just some things that she would never be able to understand. The clock on the other side of the room ticked off the seconds of silence. Finally his hands fell to his sides. Reaching for her hand, Michael squeezed it – more to comfort himself than her.


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