FanFic - Michael/Maria
" Endgame"
Part 1
by Mnemosyne
Disclaimer: Roswell, the characters, and situations are owned by the WB. No infringement intended.
Summary: The author's interpretation of how the series might end, following Maria and Michael's storyline.
Category: Michael/Maria
Rating: PG-13
Authors Note: As this is my interpretation of how the series might end, I'm asking y'all to make a few leaps of faith. First, Alex knows about M/M/I. Second, so do Liz's parents, and Maria's mom. When Michael turned 18, he got out of his foster home, and moved out on his own, so Hank is a nonexistent problem. This takes place during everyone's junior year at college, and I'm having them all (except Michael) attend a make-believe university called New Mexico University at Roswell. MUSE-ic (or music that inspired me): Dido's "No Angel" CD, especially "Here With Me," and, "My Lover's Gone."
On to the story.....


"My lover's gone His boots no longer by my door He left at dawn And as I slept I felt him go Returns no more I will not watch the ocean My lover's gone No earthly ships will ever bring him home again Bring him home again."

-"My Lover's Gone" Dido


"He knows."

The words were spoken so calmly, Maria wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. She certainly didn't understand the enormity of their meaning. "What?" she asked. "Who knows what?"

Max Evans' eyes scanned the small group of collegiate teens gathered in his dorm room: Liz, Alex, Maria, and Isabelle. His sister looked even more grim than he did-- Maria did NOT take that as a good sign.

"Valenti," the young man answered her question. "Sheriff Valenti knows about us."

The silence that followed his statement was suffocating. Maria felt her own breath catch in her throat-- he KNEW? How could he know?

"H-how?" Liz voiced Maria's silent question.

A grimace etched its way across Max's face. "Our sheriff got smart. And high-tech." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, empty bottle.

Tabasco sauce.

Liz's eyes widened. "You mean...?"

Isabelle nodded. "Cell samples," she confirmed. "He took some of our skin cells off one of these bottles, and checked them under a microscope." She laughed, an empty sound. "Never knew the bastard had the brainpower for something like that."

Max shook his head and let the bottle fall onto his comforter. It made a small indentation and lay still. "Our own genetics are working against us," he said softly, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

There was another oppressive silence. "But how did YOU find out?" Alex finally asked. He sounded as frustrated as Maria was feeling.

"A...friend told us," Max answered, deliberately hedging.

"A friend!?" Liz burst out. "Who? I thought no one else knew about you."

Max shrugged. "Someone else does."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"And we're not going to answer it," he replied, using a harsher tone. His eyes met Liz's, and Maria saw his face visibly soften at the hurt in the brunette's eyes. "The less you know, the better," he told her, gentler now. "It's safest for all of you, and for the person involved."

"What will you do now?" Maria was shocked to hear the question come out of her mouth-- she hadn't meant to be the one who asked. Because they all knew the answer anyway.

Isabelle and Max locked gazes for a moment, and then the blonde girl answered. "We have to leave," she said softly, suddenly very interested in the floor. "Valenti is scared of us-- he doesn't know what we're capable of. He wants to take us by surprise, or we'd be in custody right now." Some inner strength must have galvanized her then, because she looked up; there were tears in her eyes. "We have to go before that happens."

Liz's voice was a thin whisper. "When?"

If it was possible, Max's reply was softer still. "Tonight."

That sealed it. The reason for Michael's conspicuous absence was made painfully obvious. Yet some pain-loving part of Maria's soul made her ask the question anyway. "Where's Michael?"

Isabelle's mouth worked, and she looked to Max for guidance. He just nodded at her, and when she turned back to Maria, her eyes were clear. "He...already left," she said.

Maria nodded, feeling something deep inside her die. "Oh," she murmured.

"Maria, have to understand," Isabelle rushed on. "Goodbyes have never been easy for him. No entanglements and all. He didn't do this to hurt you. Or any of us," she added quickly.

Another light within Maria flickered and went out. Then another. She wasn't sure why the news was having this affect on her. It wasn't as if she hadn't always EXPECTED something like this to happen, and Michael and herself had never been anything more than friends anyway. Sure, they'd flirted like crazy, and she'd even fantasized about it turning into something more someday, but she'd always KNOWN it couldn't happen.

Hadn't she?

"Maria?" She became aware of Alex's voice right next to her. "Maria, say something." He sounded worried.

She looked into her friend's eyes. He was hurting too-- she could read him like a book; had been able to since third grade. But she saw him flinch when she looked into his face-- bowled over by whatever he saw in her eyes, apparently. "I've gotta go," she said, standing abruptly.

All eyes followed her movements, but no one stood to restrain her. "Where are you going to go?" she heard Isabelle ask. Funny, they all sounded so distant. As though they weren't really there.

"I...I don't know." She couldn't answer questions right now. Too much else was going on in her head. "I just... I have to go." She turned to Max and Isabelle. They looked swimmy, and kind of green. Well, they were aliens after all-- little green men. No big surprises there. "Goodbye, Max. Izzy." She was surprised her voice worked at all. "I'll....Oh, God, I'll miss you both so much." She leaned forward and wrapped Max in her arms tightly. Then she moved to Isabelle, and did the same. No words were exchanged. There was really nothing to be said.

Without another word, she turned and slipped out the door, and didn't look back.


Maria wasn't sure how long she walked. The moon was full and bright-- it almost seemed like daylight. She ventured through parts of campus she'd never been to before, though she didn't see any of it. Her mind was elsewhere.

When she finally returned to her room on the third floor of her dorm, Maria silently thanked God that she lived in a single. Without a sound, she undressed and slipped into her regimen nightwear-- boxers and a t-shirt-- and slipped into bed. She didn't care that she still wore her make-up; it didn't even register. Laying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling above her, and just breathed.

She was tired of thinking, of worrying, of wondering. So she just breathed-- in, out. In, out. Simple, rhythmic motions. In, out. That lump in her throat wasn't really there. It was her imagination. In, out. She wasn't going to cry. It was just that simple. In, out. She'd made it this far without shedding a tear-- she didn't intend to start now. In, out.


Maria's eyes flicked to her door. Whoever it was, she didn't want to talk to them. It was-- she quickly checked her clock-- one in the morning. Too late to talk anyway. "Go away," she whispered.

As if in answer, the knock sounded again, slightly louder this time. Tap-TAP.

It wouldn't be Liz or Max-- they'd be spending time together tonight. That thought hurt, and she pushed it to the back of her mind with another deep breath-- in, out. It was probably Alex, checking up on her. Well, she didn't want to be checked up on. She wanted to lay here and breathe. "Go away." She said it louder now.


That was it. She didn't care about anyone else's pain-- not tonight. She wanted to be selfish and self-absorbed, and forget that Liz was aching, too; that Alex was losing his friends also. This was her night to hurt. Maybe tomorrow she'd care, but tonight, she wanted to wallow. And she couldn't do that if her VISITOR wouldn't go away.

With what could best be described as a snarl, she hurled herself out of bed and stormed to the door. Flinging back the deadbolt, she swung open the door, ready to reem whichever of her friends had decided to try and comfort her. Didn't they realize she was beyond comfort?

But the words froze in her throat.

"One night," Michael Guerin said softly as he gazed at her from the hallway, backlit like an immaculate angel. "All I ask is one single night."


Maria should have been shocked to see him there. She should have fainted dead away from disbelief. But she didn't. Once the initial surprise faded away, it seemed that there was nothing more natural than to see him standing there, clothed in his typical, scruffy style, gazing at her like he could see into her mind.

"W-what?" she asked softly, though she knew full well what he was asking.

He moved closer to her, and now his face was cloaked in shadow, his breathing so close to her, she could feel it against her hair. "One night," he murmured softly. "That's all I ask, and it's all I can give."

He leaned in further, so his cheek was beside hers, his lips at her ear. Maria let her eyes flutter closed as she breathed him in.

"Please," he whispered, his lips brushing her earlobe. It felt so intimate, Maria could feel her pulse beginning to pound. "Please."

What could she say? Without a word, she leaned closer to him, and rested her cheek against his shoulder with a shuddering breath. "Yes, " she whispered breathlessly. So little physical contact, yet he left her breathless.

She wasn't sure which one of them found the other's lips first-- the memory was exploded by the touch of his mouth. He tasted like salt and spice-- like Michael was supposed to taste. Her arms snaked up around his neck as his twined around her waist, and she led them slowly back into her room, letting the door swing shut behind them.


The instant Maria woke up, she knew Michael was awake, too. There was something about the way his arm was wrapped close around her waist; how his breath whispered across her skin. She made no move to show she was awake-- he would move if she did, and that was the last thing in the world she wanted him to do. Desperately trying to keep her breath even, she let the rest of her senses sink into him. The warmth of his body pressed against her back; the tender security of his arms wrapped around her; that scent of salt and soap that was his alone. She could still taste his lips-- it made her smile.

The room was totally dark-- the moon had set, and the sun hadn't yet risen. Early, early morning then. He would be leaving soon-- cover of darkness, cloak and dagger, name your cliche. Despite herself, she swallowed hard, biting back a sob.

Michael's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against his body. The closer proximity made the pain worse-- God, she'd be losing him! Losing him before sunrise! This time, she couldn't hold back the sob.

"Maria?" he asked tenderly, one hand sliding up her body to touch her cheek and brush away her tears. "Maria, please don't cry."

That was it. Her cover was blown. "W-why not?" she moaned. "You're lea...leaving me."

He sighed. "I told you-- one night."

Moving swiftly, she turned in Michael's arms and pressed herself against his chest. His hands stroked her bare back, and his lips touched her hair. "Please don't go," she whispered.

He held her tighter. "You know I have to, Maria." He sounded pained.

" could hide around here, couldn't you? Somehow. We'd find a way." Her voice was desperate.

"No I couldn't, Maria. God, I wish I could! But you know I can't."

She looked up, nightvision allowing her to make out the strong planes of his face. "Then...take me with you."

She saw a grim smile quirk at his lips. "No, Maria. You have a life here-- a future." He pressed his forehead down against hers. "And besides, two are harder to hide than one."

"We could do it."

"I won't put you in that kind of danger."

"But Max, Isabelle--"

"We're splitting up." It was clipped, short, as though he wanted it said and over with. As though he hadn't quite believed it himself until just that instant. "Give the bloodhounds three trails to sniff instead of just one."

They lay in silence then, the only sounds their breathing, and the gentle swish-swish of Micheal's hand on her back.

"So that's it," she murmured bitterly. "Sex and so long." She immediately wanted to bite back the words when his hands ceased moving.

"That's not what it was," Michael defended, and the hurt in his voice tore Maria's heart. "You know it wasn't."

Maria moved closer, and felt a tear run down her nose. She sniffed. "I know," she apologized, choking. "I just....I don't want to lose you, Michael. Not when I just found you." She looked up into his eyes. "I think...I think I-"

He kissed her, cutting off her sentence. "Don't say it," he said softly as he pulled back. "It'll...just make it harder."

Maria, saying nothing, simply nodded. Silence hung between them then, as Maria tried not to cry.

"Go back to sleep, Maria," Michael prompted. "It's four in the morning."

"You'll be gone when I wake up, won't you." It was a statement, not a question. Michael's silence was her answer. "Just don't let me go," she begged softly. "Please. Not yet."

In response, he gripped her tighter against him, his hand renewing its gentle stroking motions over her back. Yet even with the lulling sound of his breath, and the soothing touch of his hand, it took Maria over an hour to fall asleep.

Which was why she woke up immediately when he slipped out of bed.

She made no move to show she was awake. Maria knew that if she opened her eyes, she'd see his perfect body as he dressed in the dim gray light of early morning, and would try again to make him stay. And she knew that her heart couldn't take his refusal again.

So she listened to him dressing, visualizing his movements. The way his muscles flexed as he pulled on his t-shirt; the way his back would curve as he bent to tug on his boxers, and then his tight black jeans. His fingers running through his blonde-brown hair, teasing it into its perpetual spikyness. The memory of running her own fingers through that hair made Maria tremble.

She visualized him sitting at her desk, slipping on his sneakers and yanking the laces tight. Then he was standing, crossing the room, sitting next to her on the bed...

When she actually felt the edge of the mattress tilt as he sat on the edge, Maria almost shrieked with surprise. Through some fit of strength, she managed to stay still.

Michael's fingers combed lightly through her short, gold hair. She could sense his eyes burning into her, as he memorized every feature, every angle, every curve. Just like she had done to him the night before, as he moved above her, muscles straining. Tears built behind her eyelids, but she kept them in.

He shifted next to her, and his breath whispered across her cheek as he kissed her tenderly. Then he stood quickly, and she heard him move to the door, as though he were scared another moment beside her would tie him there forever.

The knob turned, and the door creaked open.

Maria heard him pause.

"Goodbye, Maria," he said softly.

Then the door closed, and the lock clicked into place.

For a moment, Maria couldn't move. None of it seemed real. That he would be there one moment, and gone the next. Like a lightning flash. Like life segueing into death.

Her eyes snapped open, and a single tear coursed down her cheek as she watched the window. She saw the shadowy figure in a black t-shirt run across the green lawn outside her dorm. He never once looked back.

"Goodbye, Michael," Maria whispered, throat burning. Then she buried her face in her pillow and cried.

The End

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