"How, Michael?" Maria asked, eyes wide. "We can't just bust a hole through a wall and march out of here. This is....Well, I don't know where this is. But it has no doors, no windows....How are we going to get out?"

Michael stood slowly and helped her to her feet. "This isn't real, Maria," he told her. "This-- all of this," he made a sweeping gesture to encompass her Dreamscape, "it's all in your mind. We just have to punch through to the surface."

"I ask again-- how?"

"It should be simple enough," he continued, and she could tell he was deliberately hedging. "Don't you worry."

"Michael-- HOW?"

He wouldn't meet her gaze. That was not good. Michael would only avoid her eyes when he wanted to keep something from her. And there could be no secrets between them now.

Reaching out, she tilted his chin so that he looked into her eyes. "Michael, what aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

He shook his head, pulling his chin from her grasp. "Nothing. Really, Maria, I'm telling you everything."

He was lying. It was plain as day. But he was also being stubborn, and when Michael Guerin dug in his heels, nothing short of an act of God could dislodge him. Maria grunted, but she didn't press the issue.

"All right, spaceboy," she said. "Then what do we do?"

Michael's face changed then. Softened. He reached out a hand and pulled her closer to him, so that her chest pressed against his, and she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. "You don't have to do anything," he whispered. "I'll do all the work."

"But, Michael-" He cut her off with a kiss so tender, yet so powerful, everything else disappeared. Her hands snaked up behind his neck, and held him tightly against her lips.

Soon, she felt her limbs begin to tingle. Her torso soon followed, then her hips. Eventually, she began to feel light-headed, drifting and spacey. She thought it was simply lack of air....

Until he pulled back, and she realized she was glowing.

Well, not just her. To be more specific, EVERYTHING seemed to be glowing. A bright, ecclesiastic white that sang of angels. Maria's eyes widened. "Michael?"

He smiled at her. "You need strength," he told her. Passing his hand in front of her eyes, she saw that it was glowing. "I have strength." He placed the hand on her shoulder, and slowly, so slowly, caressed his way down her arm, slipped onto her hip, and moved up again along her side. As his hand passed over her body, she felt that same tingling follow in its wake. "Now my strength," he whispered, "is your strength."

Maria wanted to speak, to tell him something, but her throat wouldn't work. She let her head loll back as his hands moved over her, touching her everywhere, the pure white light that was his essence soaking into her, infusing her.

She could sense things now she never could before.

The criss-cross patterns of the veins behind her eyelids.

The warm, loving thoughts Michael wafted to her through the light that surrounded her-- "My Maria, my only Maria, My sweet and spicy Maria..." Over and over, so that her heart felt like it would burst.

And perhaps sweetest of all, she could feel her baby-- the tiny spark of life in her stomach that she had created with Michael. The continuation of them. The physical representation of something Maria couldn't begin to express. This was more than just love. This was devotion to its utmost reach.

Her knees were growing weak-- she felt them start to buckle. But Michael was there, and he caught her, lowering her slowly to the floor. Maria opened her eyes, and gazed at him in adoration. He looked like a Grecian God-- an earthbound Apollo-- backlit and shimmering. "Michael," she murmured.

He ran his hand down her throat, over her breasts, then across her stomach, where he paused. His eyes grew wide with wonder, and he looked back to her. "I can feel our baby," he breathed.

She smiled, and crossed her hands over his. "So can I," she whispered.

The tingling was stronger now-- so intense, she thought she was going to explode with the sensation. "Michael," she moaned again, arching up a little as his hands worked double duty, caressing up her legs, over her upper thighs, then back down between to her knees. Then up again. Up and up...

"Wake up now," he said softly, and her eyes snapped open.

"What?"

His smile was small, and sad. Why was his smile sad? "You should be strong enough to wake up now," he explained. "I've given you all I can."

Maria was suddenly scared. She didn't know what was waiting for her on the other side of that uncrossable boundary. "I don't want to go alone," she murmured.

Michael stretched out beside her, cradling her in his arms. "You won't go alone," he told her. "I'm right here with you. All you have to do...is open your eyes."

"They are open."

"I mean your REAL eyes."

She nodded, understanding. Taking a deep breath, she started to push her way up to conciousness.

But Michael's voice stopped her. "Maria?"

She looked at him, questioning. "Yes, Michael?"

"I love you."

It was said so simply. No fuss. No moonlight and roses and satin boxes of designer bon-bons. Just the truth. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet.

She smiled. "I love you, too." And she meant it.

Michael pulled her close. "Now open your eyes."

And she did.

******

Liz watched the couple on the bed anxiously. It had been a good thirty minutes since Michael had stretched out to lay beside her best friend, and there hadn't been so much as a twitch from either of them since. Not that she expected anything from Maria just yet-- though she could always hope. But it would have been nice to see some indication that Michael was succeeding in his goal.

"Come on, Michael," she muttered. "Give me a-"

She was cut off as Maria's back suddenly arched away from the bed and she pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. A split second later, Michael followed suit, sitting up beside the blonde and gasping for air as Maria panted below him.

Liz was stunned. She'd expected something, but even now, it was so hard to believe.... "Maria?" she said softly.

Her best friend was looking up at the ceiling, disoriented. But her head turned enough that she could look at Liz, where she sat in her customary chair in the corner. "Liz?" Maria croaked, her voice raspy and soft from disuse.

The dark-haired girl let out a whoop of joy, and she leapt to her feet. Dashing around the bed to get to Maria's free side, she hugged the girl close, eyes tearing. "Maria! God, you're AWAKE. Finally, you're awake!"

Maria's arms slipped around Liz's waist, and hugged her back. "I'm sorry I worried you, Liz," she rasped. "I didn't mean to."

Liz pulled back and looked down at her friend. "Don't you DARE apologize," she scolded. "All that matters is that you're back with us, safe and sound. And you're going to get better now." Her eyes slid up from Maria's face, and fell on Michael, who still sat beside the slim girl in the hospital bed. "Thank you," Liz said sincerely. "I mean that."

Michael nodded. He looked pale and drawn-- whatever he had done to bring Maria back must have been an ordeal. But his eyes were shining.

Maria turned away from Liz and gazed up at her knight-gallant. No words were spoken between the two, but simultaneously, their hands reached out and their fingers twined together. Liz watched the lovers silently, allowing them their privacy.

"You saved my life," Maria murmured, a hoarse whisper all her voice could manage.

Michael smiled down at her. "You think I'd let my best girl go?" he asked her softly.

Maria smiled. "Am I really you're best girl?" She was blushing, the pink flush giving her cheeks the first real color they'd had in over a week.

He nodded. "You're my ONLY girl," he told her.

She raised her lips for a kiss, which Michael willingly bestowed. Liz felt slightly envious of her best friend. "If only Max were here right now."

When the two came apart, they gazed adoringly into one another's eyes.

Then, Michael said something strange.

"Goodbye, Maria," he murmured.

She looked at him strangely. "What?" she whispered.

Before he could answer, the alien teetered on the bed. Maria tried to grab hold of him, but before she could, he fell over the edge, landing on his back in a limp heap on the floor.

******

"Michael!" Maria screamed, though her voice couldn't go higher than a whisper. She struggled against the white linens that held her back as she edged her way across the bed to the side where he lay.

Liz was already at Michael's side, and Maria envied her mobility. She wasn't ready to handle this weakened self she'd suddenly been thrust back into. In her dreamworld, she'd been as strong as the first day Liz had told her Max Evans was an alien. Now, she felt exhausted just rolling over. "Michael?" she rasped.

Liz had her fingers to the pulse point on Michael's neck. When she looked up, Maria did not like the fear in her eyes. "His heart rate is slowing down," the dark-haired girl told her. "Maria, I think..." Liz swallowed, and started again. "Maria, I think he's dying."

******

Time stopped.

Reason spiralled out of the sky in great looping circles, colliding along the way with Joy, and Hope, and Understanding, exploding them into a thousand million pieces and setting fire to the microscopic fragments. Earth became Sky. Sky became earth. The sun began to orbit the moon, and air became water, as Maria Deluca's world shattered around her.

"Wha-what?" she murmured.

Liz's eyes met her own, and Maria felt her throat constrict. "He's dying." It was said as if she couldn't really believe it herself.

Which suited Maria just fine, because he WASN'T dying. He COULDN'T be. He'd just saved her life. "N-no he isn't," she croaked, cursing her weakened vocal cords. "He isn't."

Liz said nothing. Just sat and stared at her as if what she was saying were the truth.

"NO!" Maria repeated, louder this time, but even now, hardly more than a whisper. "Liz, no!"

"I'm sorry, Maria." There were tear's in the darker girl's voice.

She would show her. Shifting beneath the constraints of sheet and blanket, Maria swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, ready to set her feet on the ground.

Liz held out a hand to stop her friend. "No, Maria," she said firmly. "You're still weak."

She was right, of course, and Maria knew it. But her thin legs didn't need to support her just now. They just had to get her to the floor, which they did with very little prompting. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed hold of the edge of the bed to keep herself from falling on top of Michael like a bag of wet flour. Liz must have known her protests would fall on deaf ears, because she just sat back a respectful distance to watch the tableau in front of her.

Somehow Maria managed to keep her body upright as she sat beside his shoulder and reached out a hand to cup his cheek. His breath across her arm was shallow and ragged, and tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed began to form in her eyes. "No," she hissed between gritted teeth. "No, you are NOT going to die, Michael Guerin."

His eyes flickered open, and she felt the first tear slip down her cheek. She reached up to dash it away, but somehow, his hand got there first. Warm fingers brushed the shimmering droplet away. "D..don't cry, Maria," he said shakily. "I h-hate it when you cry."

Michael's hand dropped back to his side, limp, and Maria grabbed it up between both of hers. "Then how about you stand up and walk out of here with me?" she rasped, as if levity could cure the situation.

But the minute shaking of his head killed all mirth dead. "That's...not going to happen, Maria." He pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, then released it with a groan, as if the effort of breathing had exhausted him too much.

"Why not?" Her voice was shaking, and another tear wound it's way down her cheek. But his hand didn't reach up to brush it away this time

"You...know why."

"No I don't."

"I'm...dying, Ma...ria."

"No you're NOT." She just had to be firm with him. That always worked in the past. "You're going to stand up, and we're going to walk out of this hospital TOGETHER. And we're going to have this baby, and we're going to live forever and ever happy."

His hazel eyes were growing heavy now. She could see him fighting back up to the surface, and it made her stomach clench with panic. "I...WISH we cou...could do that, Maria," he breathed.

"Then help yourself!" It seemed so blatantly obvious to her. Shaking his hand in desperation, she wiped away her tears with her other hand. "Come on. Heal yourself. Just...heal yourself." The edge of panic in her own voice scared her.

Michael shook his head. "Can't." The words were growing shorter now.

"Why not?"

He didn't answer her.

"Michael, why not!?"

He just shook his head, and she suddenly knew why.

Her dams broke, and she began to slump, catching herself with one arm, gripping his hand in a white-knuckled grip with the opposite hand. "Oh, God," she choked out. "It's because of me, isn't it? Because you helped me." His silence was her answer.

The tears were blurring her vision too much now, and she blinked to flush them out. They cascaded down her cheeks like so many little waterfalls. "You knew all along, didn't you?" she whispered. "You knew, but you did it anyway."

He nodded-- a miniscule tilting of the head.

"You bastard!" Maria whispered. She bent forward so that her forehead touched his and her tears fell on his cheeks, his lips. "How DARE you do this! Don't you know, I don't want any of this without you?" She pressed his hand to her stomach, grinding it against her abdomen with bruising force. "I don't want my baby to grow up without a father!"

Michael's eyes, which had drifted shut, fluttered open again, and he gazed up into hers. "But...what a mother she'll have."

"I don't care!" Why couldn't she make him understand? "I want you! I NEED you!"

"You...never need..ed me, Maria," Michael whispered, so quietly, she almost couldn't hear him. "But I needed....you. You made...me...complete."

Maria was tired of arguing. She fell on his lips, kissing him with an intensity that could only be born of loss. His mouth responded, if weakly.

"God, please don't leave me, Michael," she sobbed as she pulled back, her lips still brushing his.

Words were beyond him now. His throat worked, but no sound came out. Slowly, so slowly, his free hand reached up to touch her cheek, as he gave her his last gift.

And she saw.

###He ran. Ran as fast and as far as he could. His legs burned, and his chest ached, but he had to keep running, because if he stopped, he'd think of her, and he couldn't think of her. Her soft eyes, and smooth skin, and warm, warm touch as she enveloped him. He ran faster, and faster, against the wishes of his protesting muscles. If he thought of her, he'd never escape her. He would look back. And he couldn't look back.

He ran and ran and ran, until he'd crossed the town line. Ran until the sun pierced his eyes with its first rays of morning light. Further and further, until he collapsed, legs turned to jelly, in the hot New Mexico sun.

He stared up at the unforgiving sky, and sucked in gasp after gasp of needed air, ignoring the throbbing in his legs and the agonizing stitch in his side that made every breath a torment. He barely noticed them.

Because all he could see was her.

With a heart that knew it was lost, he tilted his head to the side.

And he looked back.###

The image stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving Maria dazed and disoriented. Michael's hand fell away from her cheek and lay crossed over his still chest.

Still.

Too still.

"Michael?" she whispered.

There was no response.

Fresh panic set in, and she sat up, barely registering that Liz had left. Her mind was too preoccupied with the unmoving alien beside her. She shook him. "Michael?" Desperation edged her voice.

Still no answer.

Maria froze as realization dawned.

Then, slowly, her body crumpled forward, and she began to sob against his lifeless chest.

And Michael Guerin died in the arms of the only person who had taught him how to live.

******

Go to Part 9-10