Liz shook her head with an amazed smile.  “I just can’t picture it.  You are..were so not domestic.  You couldn’t even boil an egg!”

Maria laughed.  “I know.  And I’m no Martha Stewart.  But I can sew..sort of.”  She sobered,  “Anyway, I had about eighteen baby books and had read them all like eight times.  I was scared to go to the doctor, I didn’t know if anything would be weird or not, because of Michael.  I wish I had now.  But I didn’t.”  She paused and closed her eyes against the memories.  “I was actually at work when I went into labor.  Debbie took me to the hospital.  I was panicking, and she stayed with me the whole time.  She was great.”

Maria was silent for a moment.  Liz reached out and took her hand.  Maria smiled gratefully and squeezed her hand.  With tears in her eyes, Maria told Liz, “Allison Amy DeLuca was born October the seventh at 7:30 in the morning.”

“Allison?”  Liz asked.

Maria nodded, “I found it when I was looking through a book of baby names.  It means ‘sacred’.  I thought it fit.”  Maria looked down at their joined hands.  “She was so beautiful, Lizzie, but...”  Maria faltered.

“But?”  Liz prompted, squeezing Maria’s hand even tighter.

“She was born with a hole in her heart.  They took her away and put her in ICU and hooked her up to all these machines.”  Maria’s voice broke.  “My little baby had all these tubes and wires all over.  You could barely see her.”

“Oh Maria.”  Liz whispered, “Oh my God.”

“She was so brave.”  Maria managed a strained smile.  “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it?  But she was.  She had to be hurting, but she almost never cried.  She lived eleven days.  I was holding her and she looked up at me with these huge brown eyes, and she smiled.  It was like she was saying goodbye.  And then she died.”

Liz moved to the other side of the table and held Maria tightly while she cried.  “I’m so sorry.  I wish I had been there for you.  I’m so sorry.”  Liz smoothed back Maria’s hair from her face.

Maria whispered, “I wish you could have met her.”  She let her head rest against Liz’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

Liz just held her and stroked her hair.  “What did you do?”  She asked quietly.

“Debbie took care of me.  She helped me make the funeral arrangements and pay for everything.  I couldn’t have done it without her.”

Liz and Maria sat huddled together and just rocked back and forth.  The kitchen was quiet, with only the girls’ breathing breaking the silence.  The sudden shrill ringing on the phone caused both of them to jump.  Liz squeezed Maria’s shoulder.  “I’ll get it.”

Maria smiled gratefully and rested her head in her hands as Liz made her way to the phone.

Liz picked up the phone and tried to steady her voice before she answered.  “Hello?”  Her voice quavered only a little.

“Liz?” A worried voice answered her.  “Is Amy ok?  I tried calling you, and your roommate said you went home suddenly.  Then I tried calling the Crashdown, and your mom said you were over at the DeLuca’s.  What happened?”

Liz shot a worried look at the table where Maria was still sitting with her head in her hands.  “Hi, Alex.”

Maria’s head jerked up and she stared at Liz with an incredulous look on her face.

“Um, can you hold on for a second, please?”  Without waiting for an answer, Liz covered the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand and looked pleadingly at Maria.  “Can I tell him?”

Maria seemed to be having some trouble finding her voice.  Then she did a complete one eighty and switched from depressive to manic.  “Where is everyone coming from?  I haven’t seen any of you in five years, and all of a sudden everybody I’ve ever known is showing up all in the same day!”

“So is that a no?”  Liz asked uncertainly.

Maria did not ever seem to hear her, “Who’s next?  Is Isabel going to show up to take me shopping?  Is my dad just going to walk in out of nowhere?  Is Max going to come warn me about the FBI again?  What about my fifth grade crush?  Where is he?”

Liz blinked at Maria’s reaction.  “Maria, you need to calm down.  I need to tell Alex something, he probably thinks that your mom is in the hospital or worse!  And I promise neither Isabel nor Max will show up for any reason in the next week or so.  I know nothing about your fifth grade crush.”  She stopped, looked confused for a second.  “Wait, wasn’t it Michael?”

“That’s not the point!”  Maria groaned and dropped her head onto the table with a thud.  “Tell him whatever you want.  But I don’t want to talk anymore about where I’ve been or why.  So you can answer his questions, ‘cause I am so not going to.”  With that revelation, she flounced out of the kitchen, leaving Liz staring after her in amazement and still clutching the phone to her chest.

Maria tossed herself onto her bed and scowled at the stars stuck to her ceiling.  She had spent an entire afternoon when she was 14 jumping up and down on her bed to get them up there.  She flipped off the light beside her bed and relaxed a little under the slight glow of the stars.

She was still lying there a few minutes later when there was a soft knock on the door.  Maria turned her head to where Liz was standing in the doorway.

“Knock knock.”  Liz said.  “Can I come in for a second?”

“Sure.”  Maria sat up and pulled her legs up Indian style. “Listen, I’m sorry for flipping out on you like that.  It’s been kinda crazy lately.”

Liz perched on the edge of the bed beside her.  “Yeah, I bet.  With your mom being sick, and then Alex and I popping up out of nowhere, you would have to be kinda stressed.  And I know that was Michael that went shooting past me when I was coming in.  What happened?  Did you call him or something?”

Maria snorted.  “Hardly.  He said Max called him and told him to check on Mom.  Suffice to say, he was a little surprised to see me.”

“So what did you do?”  Liz was not sure whether to be amused or worried.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting him either, so the first thing I did was nearly destroy a defenseless bottle of orange juice.”  Maria said.   “I thought about closing the door in his face, but didn’t.  I’m not sure why.  Then we both stared at everything but each other for a few minutes, then Mom kicked him out.”

Liz quirked an eyebrow.  “I’m assuming that was the short version.”

Maria smirked.  “Well, I left out all the uncomfortable moments where I thought about screaming, crying or hitting him with the lamp.  And the times when I thought he would bolt for the door.  So yes, that’s the short version.”

Liz laughed.  “Sounds interesting.  Too bad I missed it.  How did your mom take it?”

“Not well.  What happened there?  I thought she was going to rip his head off!”

“Well,”  Liz drawled.  “Michael acted really odd when your mom asked him about you.  So your mom decided that he knew something and wasn’t telling.  Little did we know she was right.”

“Mostly right.”  Maria corrected.  “It wasn’t just him though.  It was just...everything that was going on.  Although the Michael rejection thing did play a really big part in the decision to leave.”

“I’m glad you came back.”  Liz said softly.

Maria gave her a small smile.  “Me too,”  she said.

“Well,”  Liz patted her on the leg and stood.  “Well, babe, I need to get going.  Its getting late, and Mom is expecting me.”

“Ok.  I’ll call you later?”

“Yes, please.  I’ll be home for a few days.  I told my teachers I had a family emergency, so I’m not expected back yet.”  Liz started to head out of the room.  “Oh,”  She turned back and faced Maria again, “All I told Alex was that you were home...I thought you might want to be the one to tell him about Allison. His number is on the table.  He’s coming home this weekend and wants to see you.”

Maria smiled.  “I’d like to see him too.”

“Bye, Maria.  I’ll see you soon.”  Liz promised.

Then she was gone, leaving Maria sitting in her dark bedroom alone.

Maria flopped backwards with a sigh.  She spent a few minutes inventing constellations on her ceiling before getting bored.

Maybe her mother was awake.  Maria rolled off the bed and wandered down the hall to her mother’s room.  Peeking in, she saw that Amy was curled up on her side with one hand tucked under her head.  Amy would have looked her daughter’s age if it were not for the pain lines etched across her face and the dark circles under her eyes.

Maria stood and watched for a moment before softly shutting the door again.

Maria drifted into the kitchen and collected the mugs she and Liz had used.  Carrying them over to the sink, she let the hot water run for a minute, overflowing one of the mugs and splashing down onto the cold metal of the sink.

When steaming water slopped onto the back of her hand,  she jumped.  She realized she had been standing there for several minutes.

Her brain was not working, too much had happened in the past few days.

She needed time to contemplate everything that had happened, and finally go over all her memories rationally.  She had been avoiding everything for so long that the dam had broken when she was talking to Liz.  She finally felt like she could remember, and not start to cry, or get angry, or run.

Maybe some fresh air would help her get it straight.

She attempted to wiggle into her shoes and write a note to her mother at the same time, which meant that she had to try to tie her shoelaces three times before she got it right.  And she could not have just left without leaving a note.  If her mother woke up to find her gone again, she would freak, and Maria did not want to cause Amy that kind of stress.  Not now.

She snuck into her mother’s room and left the note by the bedside table where Amy would see it when she woke up.

She grabbed her jacket and walked out of the door while shrugging it on.

She was not really sure where to go.  Roswell had not changed much, but it was no longer the boring, comforting little town it had been.  Now Maria knew it hid many secrets, hers included.

Maria picked a direction at random and walked purposefully down the sidewalk, her hands shoved in her pockets.  She was just going to see where the night would take her.

It was not that late at night, but the city was dark except for the occasional window spilling light onto the sidewalk.  Maria passed by the dark houses, relearning the streets and soaking in the sense of Roswell.

She had been halfway across town by now, but the vague restlessness that had driven her out into the night was still with her.

She was starting to get grumpy.  Her subconscious was nagging her that she had something to do, but presently her conscious mind was refusing to acknowledge it.  Or something like that anyway.  Debbie had been taking psychology classes at the local college, and was constantly analyzing Maria’s every move.

So Maria was doomed to wander around town at ten o’ clock at night until she figured out what she was supposed to be doing.  Great.  Good thing she had left her mom a note.  And had her cell phone.  That way she could do her wandering without worrying about Amy needing her and not being able to find her.

So what was it she was supposed to do?  Maria came to an abrupt halt with a growl of frustration.  She tapped her foot impatiently on the sidewalk while she attempted to locate the source of her restlessness.

She was still scowling at the lamppost when a large wet drop landed in her head.  *Huh?*  Maria looked upwards in time to catch another large raindrop in her eye.

Of course.  And Maria did not have an umbrella.  And this looked like it was about to get pretty nasty.

Maria looked around in desperation for some shelter.  This was a part of town she had not spent much time in, so she was not aware of any late night bars that might still be open.

There were some houses around, but all of the windows were dark, and she was not about to go waking up someone if she could help it.

There! On the far corner stood a little building with the upstairs light on.  Maybe they would let her wait it out.  Either that, or call the cops, and she could try to explain to Sheriff Valenti that she was just trying to get out of the rain.

As a bolt of lightening cracked across the sky, Maria made her decision.  She began to run towards the building.

She was completely drenched by the time she reached the wooden stairs that led to the door.  Holding tightly to the railing, she prayed she would not fall.  Frustrated and soggy and injured were a few too many unpleasant adjectives at the moment.

She slipped once or twice, but managed to reach the door without a major accident.  She knocked softly on the door.

Maria heard the shuffle of footsteps coming towards the door, and took a second to hope that somebody nice and normal and non-threatening lived here.

The locks on the door were fumbled with for a moment, then finally thrown.  Maria put on her ‘I’m so cute, won’t you help me?’ look and prepared to launch into her story as the door swung open.

Michael.  She had ended up at Michael’s.

There were times when Maria hated her subconscious.

Michael and Maria stared at each other for a long moment.

Finally Maria sighed and said, “Look, can I come in, or are we trying to find out if I will actually melt?”

Michael jumped at the sound of her voice.  He had been so busy taking in the differences between this Maria and the Maria he had known, he had forgotten she was still standing outside in the rain.  “Oh, yeah, I guess.”  He backed up some, almost banging into the table behind him.

She edged around him in the tight space, trying to avoid touching him accidentally.  Or on purpose for that matter.

“So,”  Michael stated.  “What are you doing here?”

“The Fates dislike me.”  Maria informed him as she tried to wring out her hair.

“What?”

Maria sighed.  “Never mind,” she told him.  “Do you have a towel or something?  And maybe some dry clothes I could borrow?”

“Um, yeah.”  Michael started to dig through one of the piles of laundry in a chair.  He tugged a pair of sweatpants and a wrinkled Metallica shirt from somewhere in the middle of the pile and turned back to her with them.

She gave him a rather dubious look.  “Are you sure those are clean?”

Michael rolled his eyes and replied rather irritably,  “Yes, they are clean.”  *I hope* he added silently.  “The bathroom is through there.”  He pointed vaguely behind him.

Maria started to pick her way through the room to the door he had indicated.  “I hope nothing tries to eat me,” she muttered.

Michael made a face at her behind her back.  He waited until she disappeared through the doorway before he frantically started trying to clean up some of the mess.

He was not cleaning up for her.  Nope, he just realized how long it had been since he had actually cleaned, and he had discovered a sudden desire to see the floor.  Not to mention the chairs.

Grabbing up some clothes, he unearthed a bunch of dirty dishes.  And they were growing things.

Hastily, he shoved them into the sink in the kitchen and tried to drown the life forms on them.

Leaving them there to die, he began gathering clothing.  Arms overloaded, he headed to his bedroom.  His bedroom, where he keeps his stuff.  His bedroom, that you had to go through to get to the bathroom.  Where he had just sent her.

And the bedroom door was closed.

Indecision warred within him.  She was probably safely changing in the bathroom, and he really wanted to shove this stuff in his closet.

But what if she was not?  What if she was in his bedroom?  Changing clothes?

The doorknob started to turn and he tightened his grip on his armload of clothes.

*Crap.*

Maria walked into the bathroom, and then turned and walked right back out.

It was scary in there.  Although, what else could you expect from a 20 something guy living on his own?

The bedroom would be fine to change in.

His bedroom.  She was going to change in here?  Where he sleeps and changes clothes and maybe thinks of her when he can not sleep...

Great.  She had not seen the guy in five years and he has her thinking like she is 16 again.

Maria could hear muffled noises and the occasional curse coming from the other side of the door.

She quickly stripped out of her wet clothes and pulled on the sweatpants and T-shirt.  The shirt nearly hung down to her knees, and she had to pull the drawstring on the pants as tight as it would go just to keep them from falling down.

And they both smelled like him.

It was amazing that he still smelled the same after so long.  Slightly musty and a little like grease and Tabasco.

Maria shook herself out of her olfactory haze and eyed the bedroom door warily.  She heard the clink of some dishes and some running water, so she figured he would not come checking on her just yet.  And while she was here, she might as well look around a little.

She carefully avoided looking at the bed, not wanting to know if he ever shared it with anyone, and started to examine the bookshelves.

There was a lot James Joyce.  Big surprise there.  Maria tugged the worn copy of “Ulysses” down from the shelf and flipped though it.  She had never really understood James Joyce’s work.

And Michael had nothing to do with the fact that she owned a copy of this book.  Nothing at all.

The book stopped on a page that had been bookmarked.  Maria read a few lines of text at random.  Nope, still did not make sense.

Maria flipped the bookmark over absently while she was reading.

It was a picture.

She sat down hard on the bed.

It was a picture of her.  Her younger self laughed up at her, arms thrown wide as if to show the world who she was.

She was not that girl any longer.  She had not been that girl for a long time.  Not since Liz had been shot, and she discovered her safe little world was scary and unpredictable.

And Michael had a picture of her.  A picture that was used as a bookmark in his favorite book.

And there were so many things he needed to know about her.  About them, in a way.  And about Allison.

Especially about Allison.

Maria replaced the picture carefully and walked to the door.

She reached out for the doorknob and wondered how on earth she was supposed to start this conversation.

The door opened and Maria walked out.

Michael was standing in front of her clutching an armful of clothes with an oddly embarrassed look on his face.

He looked at her and tried not to laugh.  She looked so comical, almost swimming in his ragged shirt and sweatpants hiked up as high as they would go.

He lost the urge to smile, though, when he looked in her eyes.

Her face was solemn, and held an aching depth of sadness.

“Michael,”  She breathed, “We need to talk.”

He blinked at her.  “Ok.”

“Why don’t you put those clothes down?”

“Huh?”  Michael looked down and realized he was still holding his pile of laundry.  “Oh yeah.  Hang on.”  He disappeared into his bedroom and shoved the clothes into the bottom of his closet.

He found Maria had not moved.  She was standing with her arms wrapped around herself and a faraway look in her eyes.

“Do you ever think about the future?”  She asked, turning to look at him.

“I used to.”  Michael said.

“What did you think about?”  She sat in the newly discovered chair and tucked her feet up underneath herself.

Michael wondered where this conversation was going.  She had a reason, he could see that.  She looked so young, curled up in his armchair in clothes three sizes too big for her.  And her eyes were so full of sorrow.

He shrugged and sat in another chair.  “Oh, you know.  Going home, finding my family.  That kind of thing.”  He watched her warily.  This was not exactly a conversation he wanted to be having.

“Family,” she repeated.  She was silent for a moment.  “Liz said you went looking for answers.  Did you find anything?”

“She said what?”  Michael growled.  “That’s none of her business!  Or yours!  It’s definitely not yours,” he spat.  Getting up, he strode over to the window, his jaw clenched.

Maria closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to remind herself that he did not mean it.  He was upset.

Michael glared outside at the still falling rain.  The room behind him was silent.

The Maria he had known would have kicked his butt for saying something like that.

“You’re right.”  The quiet admission took him by surprise.

“What?”  He looked back at her.

She was staring at her knees.  Slowly she lifted her gaze to meet his.  “You’re right.  It is none of my business.  But,” she hesitated, “I think I need to know.  Please.”  She reached one hand out to him, as if in supplication.

He looked at her face.  At the lines that had not been there five years ago.  At the air of weariness she carried now.  At the pleading in her eyes.

“No,” he admitted.  “I didn’t find anything except a lot of dead ends.”  His jaw tensed in memory.  All his hopes, all his dreams of belonging had gradually faded away.  His voice was low, “I guess I don’t have anyone to call family.”

She nodded silently at his admission.  It was her turn to walk to the window.  “You did...  You do”  Her voice was almost inaudible.

“I do what?”

“Have someone to call family.”  She remained facing the window, and she had reached up to grip the windowsill.

Michael snorted.  “Max and Isabel don’t exactly count.  I’m talking about blood relatives.”

“So am I.”

Michael looked at the girl staring out the window.  Her knuckles on the windowsill were white with tension.

“What?”  Michael looked confused.  “Maria, what the heck are you talking about?  I don’t have any family here.  Alien, remember?”

The answer was soft.  “That doesn’t matter, Michael.”

“Ok, I am really lost here.”

Maria turned to look straight at him.  “Michael,” she began, “Do you know why I left?”

Michael, to her surprise, flushed and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Michael?”

He shifted uncomfortably and would not meet her eyes.  “Well,” he stalled, “It probably had to do with me being a jerk.”

That statement surprised a small smile out of Maria.  “Don’t worry about it, Spaceboy.  It wasn’t just you.  It was...everything that was going on.  What happened with you...well, that was just kinda the last straw.”

They were silent for a moment, both remembering a night five years before.

Maria wandered back over to the chair she had abandoned earlier.  She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

“I’m sorry.”

Michael’s sudden statement broke Maria out of her reverie.  She looked up to see him studying his hands.

He glanced up at her briefly.  “I’m sorry,” he said again.  “Sorry for...everything that happened.  That we...that I was such a jerk.  You didn’t deserve that.”

Maria stared at him in amazement.  This was Michael?  What had happened to him?  “Thank you.”  She answered.

“Actually,” she quietly admitted, “I think it was a good thing I left.”

He eyed her, confusion on his face, “Why?  You left your home, your family.  Why would that have been good?”

“Because life would not have been worth living if Isabel had found out what happened between us.”  Maria’s expression was sardonic.

Michael had to chuckle at that.  “Yeah.  She is a little overbearing.”

“And I never would have gotten to know Allison.”  Her voice was soft.

“Who’s Allison?”

Maria took a deep breath.  “Allison is...was...your daughter.”

“What?”  Michael was stunned.  “Daughter?”

“Yes, your daughter.”  Maria got up to pace restlessly for a moment.  “I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after I left.  I didn’t know what to do.”

“Wait.  What?”  Michael was still trying to process information.  “You...Me?  We have a daughter?  Where is she?”

Maria blinked back tears.  “She’s...in North Carolina, Michael.”  Her face crumpled as he blinked at her with her daughter’s eyes.  “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?  Maria, you’re not making any sense!  Why is she in North Carolina?”  Michael was starting to panic.  Something was very wrong.

Maria just squeezed her eyes shut and tried to control her breathing as she sank back into her chair.

“Maria.”  Michael kneeled in front of her.  “I need to know.  Did you give her up for adoption?  ‘Cause we can find her...”

“No.”  Maria cut him off.  She straightened herself and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  “I...”  She stopped and looked at him with a wistful smile.  “She had your eyes.   And she might have had your hair.”

“Maria, please.”  Michael was close to begging.

“She was born with...she wasn’t strong enough.  She held on as long as she could, but her little heart just couldn’t take it.”  Tears poured down Maria’s face, but her gaze on Michael was steady.

He just stared at her.  “What?”  His tone was disbelieving.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”  She whispered again.

Michael threw himself to his feet and turned away from her.  His clenched his fingers in his hair.  “I had a daughter,” he murmured.  “I had...” He shook his head in disbelief.

All this time looking for a family, and he had gained and lost one without ever knowing it.

“Damn it!”  Michael slammed his fist into the wall.  Breathing hard, he slid down to his knees and rested his forehead against the cool wood.

Maria flinched at the noise, but remained where she was, arms wrapped tightly around herself for comfort.

They remained like that. Huddled in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts of a little girl with deep brown eyes.

“Tell me.”

Maria jumped at the sound of Michael’s voice. “What?” He had been so still for so long, she had almost forgotten he was there. Well, that was a lie, actually. She could never have just forgotten he was anywhere. Especially when that anywhere was less than ten feet from her. But she had not expected him to speak.

Michael did not turn around completely, but he did turn his face her way. “I said, tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Maria was confused. It had been a long, stressful few days.

Michael shifted position some so that he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, still only half facing Maria. He studied the wood grain in the floor for a moment, and then glanced up at her. “Tell me what she looked like. Tell me what happened. Tell me...whatever; just tell me something about her. Please.”

His eyes were so uncertain. He looked so lost. Maria hated that she had sprung this on him, but there had been no other way.

“Ok.” Maria searched for words to describe her...their daughter to him. “Well, she had quite a personality. She kicked me a lot when I was pregnant.” Maria half smiled. “She liked Tabasco sauce.”

Michael spun to face her with a shocked expression. “You fed a baby Tabasco sauce?”

“No, she fed me.”

“What?”

“I craved Tabasco sauce. And tuna fish. I ate some really disgusting things because of her.” She retreated into her memories for a moment.

“Maria?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you..I mean, would you...” Michael looked flustered. “Show me?”

Maria blinked. “What do you mean?”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “I could connect with you. You could show me. If you  wanted to, I mean.” He tugged on a strand of his hair as he stared at the floor.

Maria was stunned. She had forgotten about that little detail in the alien files. An ability to read a person’s memories was not exactly the first thing that would pop to mind when discussing aliens, but they could.

But what would he see? Could he feel what she had felt? See what she had seen? Go through labor?

Maybe this was not the best idea.

Maria sucked in a breath. What the heck was she doing considering this? This was a bad idea. There was no telling what all was in her head that should not be shared. Especially with Michael. But she found herself blurting out, “Ok.”

Michael simultaneously looked relieved and more apprehensive. “You will?”

“Yeah, I guess. What do I do?” Maria shifted in her seat.

“Um.” Michael scooted over closer to her. “Not much, really. I do most of it.” He rose up on his knees in front of her and paused. “I have to touch you.” He sounded uncomfortable.

“Oh,” she answered faintly. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes as he reached out hesitantly to cup her face. His hands were cool and gentle. Still.

“Just,” he cleared his throat and tried again. “Just think of her, ok?”

A small nod was his only answer.

He studied her face for a moment. She was trembling slightly under his touch. He licked his lips nervously and let his eyes sink shut. Mentally, he reached out for her.

The world froze.

Images tumbled over each other and over him. He was drowning in a sea of emotions.

****
Maria crying after he left that morning, her head buried in her pillow. He cried with her.
****
Isabel snubbing her yet again. Alex ignoring her. Liz not listening. Michael avoiding  her. Maria avoiding Michael. His heart hurt as hers did.
****
Frantic packing in the middle of the night. He twitched, wanting to run.
****
The crash of plates onto the floor as she realized she was pregnant. He was in shock.
****
Desperately looking for a new job, aware of the new life under her heart. He felt the baby kick under his hand.
****
Searching through baby books for anything useful. He read the words over her shoulder.
****
Finding a job in North Carolina and moving in with Debbie. Relief washed through him.
****
Constant back pain and swollen ankles. He grew short tempered.
****
The first twinges of labor. Panic and pain warred for his attention.
****
A smiling nurse handed her a tiny baby. A girl. He fell in love. Her name on his lips. Allison.
****
The doctor’s voice informed her of a problem. His heart clenched in his chest.
****
Watching Allison breath through a tube. He shook with fear.
****
Holding her little body. She opened her eyes. <His eyes.> She smiled. <His smile.>  One last tiny breath. He watched her die, helpless.
****
A miniature casket. A headstone bigger than she was. Allison Amy DeLuca. October 7 - October 18, 2001. His heart broke into a million pieces.
****

He jerked backward, breaking the connection. Maria gasped and covered her face with her hands.

Michael stood trembling before her. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. She looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

The emotion was too much. He ran. He bolted out the door into the night, leaving her shaking in his chair.

Maria knew she should go home. Her mother might need her. But right now, she could not find the strength to pull herself out of the chair. Instead, she curled up and rested her head on one of the arms.

She would just rest for a moment. She was still shaking in reaction to the intensity of the connection. Liz had never said it felt like that. She had relived everything that had happened, and she had felt his reactions as he saw everything.

She was shaking for another reason, as well. He was not the only one who had seen things.

She had seen his panic and his horror at himself <not her> after their night together.  He was adamant that he could not get involved, and had just broken that in the largest way possible.

He had not thought himself worthy of such a night.

His terror had taken over, and he had bolted. He had never become very comfortable with the high emotions that came with being human.

Even after he found out that he was too human. Full of raw emotions and irrational behaviors.

She had felt his shame at his words and his actions, and watched herself avoid him.

She felt his disbelief when he heard she was gone.

He had taken off not long afterwards. Max seemed to know that he had felt responsible for her leaving, and had been pressing for information.

He had left out of shame and embarrassment and frustration.

If no one would come looking for him, he would go looking for them.

He had wandered for three years. She had wandered with him.

She felt his frustration as each possible lead turned into a dead end.

He never found anyone. Never found any answers.

He gave up one day an hour outside of Asheville, North Carolina. Less than an hour from where she was living. Life could often be full of irony.

She had wept with him as he saw his daughter <their daughter> die in her arms.

He thought it was his fault. He thought that he had not been strong enough.

He thought he did not deserve a family.

Three