"Isabelle, would you PLEASE slow down? I can't figure out what you're saying!" Max Evans gritted his teeth and tried to remain patient with his sister, even though the clock on his bedside table told him it was only seven in the morning.

"Max, would you pay attention," Isabelle groaned in frustration. "This is important! I know...how to...get into...Maria's dream!"

She said it slowly and deliberately, and watched as Max soaked it in. His eyes widened as the full import of what she said hit him. "You can?"

Isabelle nodded, eyes alight.

"How?!"

The blonde girl just smiled.

******

ELSEWHERE, THAT SAME MORNING....

Maria floated in that hazy world between dreams and wakefulness. She could feel Michael's warm body pressed against her, but her fuzzy mind couldn't decide if he was a dream or a waking fantasy.

Her bleary eyes slowly opened, to discover that he was neither-- he was restful reality. He lay on his back, his bare chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing, and Maria stayed motionless, unwilling to disturb him. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder, her hands pulled up loosely under her chin, as though she had been praying in her sleep. His arms were wrapped protectively around her-- so that she was stretched out against his side-- his fingers laced clumsily together.

Maria couldn't resist a foolish grin. She'd been dreaming very naughty dreams last night-- very, VERY naughty dreams. //I wonder if he noticed,// she thought, watching Michael's peaceful profile. He always looked so...angelic when he slept. Angelic. A fallen angel. A fallen star.

He mumbled something in his sleep, and turned so that he was now lying chest-to-chest with her, his arms still looped around her midsection. Maria shifted as he did, to allow him freer movement-- less chance he'd wake up then. Less chance he'd see her crying.

She sniffled silently, afraid to move and wipe away the tears. Michael had given her so much of himself the previous night-- he'd made something cold and cruel into warmth. But today, as Maria gazed at him, the spectre of Topolsky seemed to loom over her shoulder, cackling as she had in the warped dreamland of Oz. 'I'll get you, my pretty! And your little hybrid, too!'

Without thinking, Maria slipped a hand down the thin space between their bodies and touched her stomach. //I wonder if it worked,// she pondered. //I wonder if I'm...if we're...//

"You all right?" Her eyes snapped into focus-- from where she lay immersed in her own thoughts-- to discover Michael looking at her.

She didn't know when he had woken up-- her mind was too filled with frightened ramblings. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she assured him. "Just...thinking."

He ran a hand up her side, making her skin tingle, and gently cupped her cheek. "Then why are you crying?" he asked softly.

"I-I'm not," she lied lamely, still feeling the hot droplets slipping down her cheeks. She cursed her weakness.

Michael moved closer to her, so that their bodies pressed together, and ducked his head so that he looked her dead in the eye, their foreheads and noses touching. "You're lying, Maria," he said plainly.

His eyes weren't reproachful-- they were curious, concerned. Maria broke before them.

"I was just...thinking about...you know, why we did this and...and what's going to happen next...and I'm just sorta...kinda....really scared and...." She trailed off, unable to continue the flood of words.

Michael didn't say a word. He closed his eyes, and found her lips by memory. Warmth flowed over her-- warmth and comfort, as Maria let her eyes drift shut. She felt safe, and happy.

When they pulled apart, Michael smiled. "Did you feel that?" he asked.

She looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

"My feelings, blondie."

Her eyes widened. "Those were yours?" she murmured.

Michael nodded. "All of them," he whispered, "and they're because of you. So trust me," he continued, pulling her head down to rest against his chest as he stroked her golden hair, "anything that happens from here on out, I am not going to let go of that. You are ALWAYS going to be those feelings to me-- no matter what. So you don't have to be afraid, Maria-- how could I let my happiness get hurt?"

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying herself in his heat. "I'm going to hold you to that, Spaceboy," she said huskily, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder and fighting back another wave of tears.

His chuckle eased her tension. "So are we okay now?" he asked, and Maria nodded against him.

"Yeah," she replied. "Yeah we are."

The clock beside the door read seven twenty-- presumably in the morning-- as Maria gazed at it over Michael's shoulder.

It was exactly ten minutes later that Topolsky took the happiness away.

******

ELSEWHERE, LATER THAT DAY....

"It's simple really," Isabelle was explaining later that morning at the Crashdown, to her eager audience of two-- Max and Liz. She silently thanked whatever God was listening that it was Sunday-- she couldn't have kept this to herself all day at school. "When Maria was teletransplanted to wherever the hell she went, I was still in her dream. That dream broke off when Maria fell out of it, but it NEVER STOPPED HAPPENING!"

Liz and Max both looked confused. "What? Izzy, what the hell are you talking about?" Max asked, thoroughly lost. "Maria woke up. The dream is over."

Isabelle shook her head excitedly. "No. No, Max, that's where you're wrong." She grabbed one of the paper placemats off the table and flipped it over. Pulling a slim pencil from her purse, she drew two interconnected circles on the back of the thin paper. "It's like a Venn diagram," she explained.

Pointing to one circle, she said, "Michael's dream." Then, pointing to the other, "Maria's dream." She shaded in the interconnected middle. "The dream they shared." Her eyes flew up to meet theirs. "Do you see what I mean?"

Liz looked on the verge of saying something, as if she knew the words, but couldn't form them. Max still looked confused.

Isabelle rolled her eyes, and pointed with her pencil to the shaded-in portion again. "THIS is what she woke out of, Max!" she explained in a fervent whisper. "This shared dream! But in the dreamworld, the two separate spheres were never whole! They were never one! That's why I didn't just pop into Maria's dream and find myself in Michael's dream, too! Because they only overlapped-- they weren't the same! So when Maria woke up, she woke up from this OVERLAPPED dream. The part of the dream that was still hers is still going on-- that's why the Emerald City just disappeared, and didn't explode or something. If THAT had happened, it would have been the unconcious mind's way of signaling the end of the dream. But it DIDN'T-- which means the dream is STILL GOING ON!"

Liz understood, Isabelle could see that. And Max looked like he grasped it, too. "So what you're saying is...." He trailed off, letting her finish for him.

"If I can find the rest of this dream, I can follow it to Maria's NEW dream," Isabelle said enthusiastically. "And from there, we can find them!"

"But Izzy," Max protested. "You said everytime you try to get into Maria's dream, you get blocked. Why would this be any different?"

Isabelle sat back, looking pleased with herself. "That's when I try to get in DIRECTLY. Normally, there are no back entrances in the dreamworld. It's just a whole bunch of front doors." She raised an eyebrow. "But if I go through THIS back door-- the dream I shared with Maria-- then I should be able to pull it off."

Liz shook her head, unsure. "But, it's just a dream! Even if you DO get in, if Michael and Maria don't know where they are themselves-- how are we supposed to?"

Isabelle grinned, and held out her hand. She kept it low, so that no one else could see, and a bright flare of light flashed in her palm. "Michael's not the only one who can mess with people's heads," she told them. "When I was in Maria's dream, waiting, I examined the structure of their little mental hook-up." She chuckled. "For someone who doesn't know diddly about control, Michael sure knows how to weave an intricate mind meld when he wants to." She smiled, and leaned forward conspiratorily. "But I had plenty of time to see how he did it," she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper, so Max and Liz had to strain to hear her, "and I think I've figured out a way to put a psychic locator on one of them."

Max's eyes widened. "You mean, put a telepathic tracking device in Maria's head?"

Isabelle nodded.

Liz and Max looked at each other, then back to the tall blonde. "Then I think we've got a plan," Max said, the first grin he'd worn in a long time spreading across his face.

******

ELSEWHERE, EARLIER THAT MORNING....

"Rise and shine, lovebirds!" Topolsky chimed as she blew through the cell door. "Time to get back to business."

Michael turned and pushed himself into a sitting position so that he was facing the door. Maria sat up behind him, the thin sheet pulled around her to hide her nakedness. "What do you want, Topolsky?" Michael growled.

The agent smiled, and threw a clean pair of scrubs at him, and another at Maria. "Put those on," she told them, ignoring Michael's question. "We have a busy day."

Neither of the captives moved. "I said, what do you want?" Michael demanded again, his voice cold. Ice cold. It made Maria shiver.

Topolsky didn't scowl, or smirk. She simply sighed. "If you must know, Mr. Guerin," she replied, "I have come to collect my investment."

"What the hell does THAT mean?"

"It means I'm here for Ms. Deluca."

Maria's eyes widened, and she pulled the sheets tighter around herself as Michael roared, "WHAT?"

Topolsky remained unshaken by his anger. "We must take Ms. Deluca to isolation," she explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Her progress must be recorded, checked, and examined for the entire duration of the pregnancy. That is, of course, if she was successfully inseminated. But, judging by the antics you two got up to last night, I think it's a safe assumption." Now she smirked.

Maria didn't know what possessed him, but she tried in vain to keep Michael from climbing out of the small bed to stand toe to toe with Topolsky. "You're not taking her anywhere," he hissed, glaring at the woman.

The blonde agent twitched an eyebrow, but didn't break eye contact. "Don't you think you should put some clothes on, Mr. Guerin?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Why? Nothing here you haven't seen, right?"

She bobbed a nod. "True."

"Then let's get back to the point," he growled. "That being, you're not taking her."

"Mr. Guerin," Topolsky argued, and Maria was shaken by the animosity in the older woman's voice, "you are walking on unsteady footing right now. Do you remember what I told you that first day? About doing as you're told?"

Michael scoffed. "I'm not your lab rat, Topolsky," he muttered. "And I'm not going to let you hurt Maria."

"Who said anything about hurting her?" the agent asked. "We're just going to observe her."

"Observing for you probably involves diodes, needles, and high voltage electricity."

Topolsky chuckled, and it made Maria's blood run cold. "You know me too well."

"You're not taking her."

"You're not going to stop us."

"Watch me."

Topolsky and Michael stared into one another's eyes, and Maria was afraid to breathe-- petrified that such a simple act could tilt the scales in some cosmic way.

"Fine," Topolsky said suddenly, and Maria released a breath. "Ms. Deluca can stay. But," she added at Michael's victorious smile, "you're coming with us."

"No!" The sound tore from Maria's throat before she could stop herself, but Topolsky ignored her anyway.

"You broke the rules, Mr. Guerin," the agent told him. "You broke the rules, and I intend to make you pay for that." She grinned. "You have no idea how long I've wanted something like this to happen. You lasted a lot longer than I'd expected. But," she reached up and gripped Michael's chin in her hand, "beggars can't be choosers, right?"

Michael hadn't moved through the entire explication. Now he wrenched his head away from Topolsky and scowled at the woman. "Bring it on," he growled.

"Happy to," she replied, and snapped her fingers. The same two lumbering guards from before-- Maria was beginning to wonder if there were any others-- came through the door.

Michael saw them and chuckled. "Ah, gee," he said, "look who's back. Huey and Dewey. Where's Louie, fellas? Off getting jacked while you two play wind-up soldier to General Topolsky?"

"Bring him to the testing room," Topolsky ordered them, ignoring Michael's comment. "But be gentle." She looked back at him, and Maria felt her throat close. "I want him to put up a fight."

Michael made no reply.

"Put your clothes on," Topolsky said. "I'll see you there." Turning on her heel, she whisked out the door and disappeared.

Michael just stood there for a long moment, staring after her. His back was tense, the tendons in his shoulders standing out in sharp relief. "Michael?" Maria murmured shakily.

He turned then, and she saw his jaw was hard as he tried to keep his emotions under control. "Maria, it's going to be all right," he told her, crossing to her side and sitting on the edge of the bed.

She reached out to him with one hand, touching his cheek. The tears were back again, and she blinked to clear his image in her eyes. "How can you be so sure?" she choked.

"Because I am," he replied simply, before leaning in to kiss her more passionately than she would have imagined possible in a hopeless situation.

Finally they drew apart, and Michael stood again. He began to pull on the requisite white boxers and green scrubs while Maria watched, tormented. Once he was dressed, he leaned over again to touch his lips lightly to hers. "I'll see you soon," he whispered.

"You'd better," she whispered back.

Her heart froze as he spun around and held out his arms to the two guards. "Let's go, boys!" he said, almost jauntily. "We have an appointment to keep!"

The two guards sprang into action, each taking hold of one of Michael's arms, and leading him from the room. Michael glanced back over his shoulder as they left, and flashed Maria an encouraging smile that never reached his eyes. Then the door was swinging closed, and he was gone.

Maria sat still, watching the door, as if she could mentally force it to open. But it remained steadfast, and she eventually collapsed back to the mattress, burying her face in the thin pillow. Her lower body was hurting, the bruises from the previous night making their presence known again. Her core throbbed, too, from his wanton pounding into her. But she didn't mind-- she absorbed it, enjoyed it. Thanked heaven above for it. Because it reminded her of his touch. And she was suddenly very scared that she might never feel that touch again.

It was with shock some minutes later that she realized she couldn't sense him anymore.

******

Michael stared straight ahead at the blank white wall as Topolsky circled him, like a tigress around her prey. She was toying with him, baiting him. She wanted him to snap. Well, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

"Do you know why I dislike you so much?" Topolsky asked suddenly, taking Michael by surprise. But he didn't let himself jump-- he kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Can't say as I do," he said, not looking at her. "Though I was meaning to mention that to you," he added, "because there are some very nice men in white coats who I'm sure would LOVE to talk to you about these psychopathic tendencies you--"

"It's because you're kids," she cut him off, ignoring his spiel. She'd been ignoring him a lot, and it was pissing him off. "Snivelly, whiny, barely post-pubescent kids. You don't know the first thing about life in the real world. About responsibility. Anything." She moved in close, so that her breath blew across his neck. "Yet you managed to trip us up everytime we were close to exposing you. Teenagers fucking with the FBI." She chuckled, and somehow, her breath now felt cold against his skin. "How did that happen?"

Michael shrugged, but she pulled back before his shoulder could get her in the chin. He cursed silently. "Don't ask me," he told her. "The others are the brains of the whole thing." He smirked. "I'm just pretty."

She smiled then-- he could see it out of the corner of his eye. It made him shiver. "Well, we'll just have to change that," she said.

And she snapped her fingers.

//They're like trained poodles,// Michael thought absently, as two different guards from the ones who had brought him here entered the room. Like before, each one grabbed one of his arms, and held him fast.

Topolsky moved to stand in front of them. "Make him look at me," she ordered, and Michael felt a frighteningly powerful hand grip his chin and force his eyes down from their arbitrary focus on the wall.

Topolsky's blue eyes stood out in sharp relief from her pale blonde hair and close-fitting black jumpsuit. She smiled sunnily at him, but there was no warmth in it. "Let's dirty up that pretty face," she said, and struck.

Michael didn't know where the blow came from, but it snapped his head to the left, and made his cheek throb. He worked his jaw as he looked back to the woman in front of him. But he didn't speak.

She raised her eyebrows. "So, you're going to play hero?" she scoffed.

"Well, that just makes it more interesting."

Michael saw the blow coming this time, as she spun on her heel and lashed out with her opposite foot. He tried to dodge, but the two monoliths on either side of him held his body grounded, and her booted foot made contact with his abdomen.

He tried to double over and wheeze for air, but the guards forced him to stand upright. Topolsky grinned at him. "Having a little trouble breathing?" she asked.

"Fuck...you..." he gasped.

"Oh, that's going to cost you," she told him, and kicked again, this time catching him under the chin and snapping his head back. Michael saw stars as a flare of pain tore through him, and he gagged.

"This is fun," Topolsky was saying as he tried to stay upright of his own power between the guards. "I should have made up an excuse to do this ages ago."

"I...thought you...wanted me to...fight...back..." he choked out, trying to buy time before her next blow hit.

"I lied," she snarled, and backhanded him, this time snapping his head to the right. "I just wanted to make sure you were at your peak efficiency," she continued, "so that you wouldn't collapse too soon." Her fist plowed into his stomach, and he wheezed out a cough.

"Betcha wish you'd never met her," Topolsky hissed into his ear, leaning in close. "Betcha wish you'd just let us take her. Don't you?"

Michael forced himself to stand straight. "Not a chance in hell, Topolsky," he growled through gritted teeth.

She sighed and shrugged, standing back. "Oh well," she said. "I've been wrong before." Her eyes hardened again. "And I HATE being wrong." Her footlashed out and caught him in the midsection again. Then the left knee. Then the right...

Michael closed his eyes against the pain as she rained blow after blow down upon him. //Mariaskin,// he thought, as Topolsky's fist made contact with his jaw. //Mariaeyes.// Bone grinding against bone as something in his ribcage snapped. //Mariamaria.//

Topolsky kneed him in the groin, and his body crumpled. He sagged between the two guards. "Let him go," he heard the woman say from far away, and he felt the hands that held him let go.

Michael fell bonelessly to the floor. Trying to drag himself to his knees, he felt Topolsky make contact again with his ribcage, and he collapsed, groaning.

Opening his eyes, he gazed absently at the blood that spattered the floor. Distantly, he realized it was his. If he thought very hard, he could form the smears and droplets into pretty pictures in his head-- but he couldn't really think just then.

He saw the foot coming, but he made no move to dodge it. Instead, he felt it make contact with his skull, and let the momentum of it roll him onto his other side. How long had this been going on? It felt like it had been forever.

It was a long time after forever that Topolsky finally stopped. Michael barely noticed as she walked away, leaving him to bleed on the normally spotless white tile. Everything still throbbed, as though her steel-toed boots were still assaulting him. What did it matter that she was no longer there?

He wanted to see Maria again.. If only to know she was all right, and this hadn't all been for nothing. He needed to see her.

And he did.

********

Maria searched frantically through the recesses of her suddenly quiet mind, hoping, praying, that she would find some trace of her link with Michael. Some clue that they were still joined. But there was nothing.

She didn't know why he would suddenly have blocked his emotions off from her-- perhaps he didn't want his own fear to compound hers. //That would be just like him.// Still, she couldn't really blame him. It wasn't his fault that some abstract part of his psyche felt it was necessary to block off the one thing that made her feel everything was still all right. That thought didn't help her feel any better.

It didn't take long, however, for her to discover that the link hadn't disappeared. It had merely changed again.

The picture hit her like a cannonball, and she fell back to the hard mattress, twitching as the image pressed down upon her. She squinted and held up her hands, trying to block out the sight, but it didn't work. It was overpowering her, and there was nothing to do but accept.

So she opened herself to it, and fell in.

******

They were hurting him, she could see that. Topolsky was beating him red and senseless, and it made Maria want to scream. But there was no sound in this strange in-between state of conciousness. Only sight.

She was floating. No, not floating-- existing. The corporeal had been left behind, twitching on the hard mattress. But SHE was here-- and she watched, and prayed that it would stop.

Michael fell to the tile, and Maria could see the dark blood that spattered the floor in a wide radius around him. //MICHAEL!// she tried to scream, but nothing came out. Nothing but empty air. She wanted to touch him-- to reach out and ease his pain, let him know that she was there for him. But she was afraid of what would happen if she did, and so she refrained, and watched. Shadowtears pricked at her phantomeyes, and she didn't try to brush them away.

Topolsky finally left, and Maria gave the woman's retreating form an acid glare. //You will NEVER turn your back on me again, Topolsky,// she hissed to herself. //NEVER.//

Michael moaned beneath her-- she saw him move though she couldn't hear the sound-- and suddenly she was beside him. Kneeling beside him on phantomknees that couldn't feel the tile. //Michael?// There was no reaction-- he couldn't hear her, just as she couldn't hear him.

Despite her fears, she wanted to touch him. To reach out to him and let him know she was there-- that she would protect him now as he had protected her. So she extended a hand, rested it on his shoulder, and jumped.

She could hear.

******

Michael opened his eyes at the featherlight touch, but he barely registered the translucent girl before him. "Maria?" he rasped.

She smiled at him. "Michael," she whispered. "You can see me!"

He squinted at her and nodded. "How come you're clear?"

She ran her hand from his shoulder to his cheek. "Because I'm not really here," she told him. "Or actually, I'm here, but not ALL of me is here. This part," she tapped her temple, "is here, and THIS part," she touched her chest, right above her heart, "is here. And that's what matters."

Michael couldn't begin to comprehend what she was talking about, but that wasn't important just now. All that counted was that he could see her, and she looked all right. "I hurt," he mumbled.

Maria's face clouded. "I know," she said softly. "I know, Michael. I'm sorry. I...should never have let you go through this for me!" She was trying desperately not to cry, and was failing miserably.

Michael's face went grim. "Please don't cry, Maria," he murmured, and tried to reach up to brush her tears away. For some reason, his arms wouldn't move. "I hate it when you cry."

Maria forced back the tears. "I'll try," she choked out. "But you don't make it easy on a girl."

He started to chuckle, but stopped quickly when sharp pain from every nerve ending lanced through him. He groaned.

Maria's face creased with worry. "Michael?" she said, cupping his face in her hands. "Michael, say something. Please. Please tell my you're okay. That this will all be okay. Please!"

She sounded frantic, and Michael forced his eyes to open so he could look at her. Her eyes were still emerald, despite their ghostly quality. "Lay down with me?" he mumbled. "Please?"

Maria didn't answer. She simply stretched out beside him-- ignoring the blood smears on the tile-- and trailed her butterfly touch down his body until her phantomfingers twined with his. "I won't leave you," she whispered, leaning in close to brush his lips with her own. "I promise. I'll never leave you."

Michael smiled, and squeezed her hand. Her opaque fingers felt like cotton candy-- as if they could melt away any moment, like so much spun sugar. But Maria had told him she wouldn't leave, and Maria would never lie.

So he held her tighter, and closed his eyes. And he slept.

******

In the quiet room where her body lay, Maria's fingers tightened into a loose fist, as though she held something very precious. And a single tear coursed down her cheek.

Sherwood Forest was burning.

The towering oaks of the ancient forest were crackling like so much kindling as Maria ran down the leaf-littered path. The flames licked at her heels, but she paid them no mind. All she could see was the path stretching out ahead of her, and far off in the distance, her goal.

//This is MY dream,// she thought in disbelief as a torrid tree-limb crashed to the ground just off the side of the path. The heat was oppressive, choking, but she ran anyway. //No,// she thought again. //This is my nightmare.//

She shuddered to think what Michael's would be.

Maria could still remember his bloodied form, motionless on the spotted tile. How long ago had that been? Hours? Days? How long before her spirit-self had drifted into sleep, still clutching his bloodied hand?

The jolt of red hot anger and ice-cold fear that went through her at the thought spurred her on, and she ran faster. He was there-- she knew it.

******

The encampment was in chaos. Women and children screamed as they ran past her, seemingly out of nowhere. Men fought the flames, but there was no hope-- the entire wood was an inferno. No one would escape. Maria swallowed, but pressed on into the camp.

"'Ere, you can't come in 'ere!" The sharply accented British voice to her left snapped her head around. A tall, thin man with sharp features was running towards her.

"Where's Michael?" she asked, panicked, as he drew up beside her.

The young man took her arm and began to lead her from the camp. "No time for games, Miss," he said, ignoring her struggles. "You've got to get outta 'ere!"

"NO!" she cried. "No, I said I wouldn't leave him!" She clawed at his hand. "Please," she begged, "please, just tell him Maria is here to see him. Please!"

The young man froze when he heard her name, and he spun around to face her. "Maid Maria?" he asked, eyes wide.

Maria didn't care what he called her, as long as they stopped moving. She nodded furiously, tears building in her eyes.

His jaw dropped. "I'm so...sorry, melady," he stammered, quickly releasing her arm. "I...I never meant no offense."

She waved off his apologies, and turned back to the chaotic village. "Where is he?" she asked.

When she received no answer, Maria spun around to fix him with a pointed stare. His brow was furrowed with insecurity. "Well?" she asked again, louder this time.

He paused for a moment, then answered her. "Melady," he said, "I can't bring you to him. This-- all this," he gestured to the raging fire that stretched up to heaven, "is goin' to come down on our 'eads, yer Grace. I can't bring you into that."

She stalked over to the thin man and glared up into his eyes. "I have news for you, beansprout," she growled. "I'm already here. And I'm not leaving." She watched him swallow. "Now take me to Michael."

He eyed her for a moment longer, as if assessing her capability for physical violence against him. He must not have liked the odds, because finally he nodded. "All right, melady," he said, shoulders straightening. "Never let it be said that Will Scarlet refused a beautiful woman's request." He flashed her a dazzling smile. "We're all goin' to die anyway, ain't we? Come on, yer Grace!" And he began to jog back the way they had come. Maria followed close behind, dreading what she would find.

******

ELSEWHERE.....

Isabelle was sleeping, but she was not very happy about it.

How long had she been wandering in this white mist? Shuffling aimlessly through the nothingness? Maybe this wasn't going to work. //It HAS to work!// she told herself firmly. //It HAS to. I KNOW I can get in!// She just had to find Maria's dream first.

Yeah. Real easy.

Isabelle had no idea where to look. They'd all left the Crashdown immediately following their conversation, and she'd come straight back to her room to sleep and test her hypothesis. Yes, she'd figured it would take a while to find the remnants of the Oz dream, but she'd never expected THIS-- hours of endless ambling on numbed feet. "Where the hell are you, blondie?" she muttered under her breath. "Give me a clue."

Sitting down on the arbitrary ground hidden beneath the swirling mist, Isabelle tried to collect her thoughts. There HAD to be a simple way to do this-- if Maria could fall through a conduit in the fabric of space, Isabelle could sure as hell find the Emerald City in a land of white. She just had to put her mind to it.

"Mind," she repeated to herself, turning the word over in her mouth as if she couldn't place its taste. "Mind, mind, mind...."

She had it.

The realization hit her so suddenly, she almost fell over. Her eyes widened, and for a second, she couldn't catch her breath. When she finally did, all she could think of to do was laugh.

It was so obvious! So damn obvious! What on earth was wrong with her? Well, besides the fact that she was on earth at all?

Closing her eyes, she imagined.

Opening her eyes, she saw.

"Gotcha," she whispered, before leaping to her feet and running full tilt down the twisting thoroughfare of the yellow brick road.

******

ELSEWHERE IN DREAMLAND....

It felt to Maria that they ran for a very long time, yet the fire that raged around them refused to ebb. It was as if the wood never charred, but continued to burn long after it should have stopped. Flames licked out from the towering inferno, torching dry wooden huts and rope bridges. A demo of Hell.

Maria stepped over the eviscerated corpse of a young man, barely glancing at his revealed intestines. She had seen enough like him already. The worst had been the mother-- that had made her ill. The mother who had tried to protect her two children from the falling tree branch that blazed down at them. The mother who had succeeded only to fail-- because she had been hit.

Maria swallowed as she remembered how quickly the woman had burned away to a cinder-- clothes first, then hair, skin melting away, until nothing but a charred skeleton remained.

She bit back the bile, and concentrated on Will Scarlet's back. He seemed to know where he was going-- she forced herself to trust him. But he was part of Michael's dream-- Michael's warped, pain-hazed nightmare. His defense mechanism. Anything could happen.

Eventually, they drew up outside a simple cloth tent, surprisingly untouched by the fire that raged around it. //He's here.// She knew it without thinking-- she'd always known it.

Will spoke quietly with one of the two men who stood guard at the thin flap that separated Michael's interior from Maria's death-ridden exterior. She wanted to scream-- to simply rush past them and find what awaited her within.

Will touched her arm, and she snapped back to reality. His eyes were compassionate, yet firm. "'E's hurtin' badly, melady," he said softly, yet somehow louder than the howling fire and the screaming children. "'E ain't expected to make it much longer."

Maria held in her tears. "Can I see him?"

He didn't say anything. But he released her arm and stood back.

Maria took that as an affirmative. Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly towards the tent flap, suddenly afraid of what she might find on the other side. With a tremblig hand, she reached out to twitch the thick fabric aside, and slipped through the narrow opening into darkness.

******

The blackness was almost complete. It gagged her, cloying fingers that raked down her throat and swirled in eddies before her eyes. So dark. So quiet. No noise-- not even the shrieking sound of the fire that raged outside. Silence. Dead silence.

And a single shaft of light.

Maria edged deeper into the tent that no longer existed. When she glanced over her shoulder, the tent flap was gone-- when she looked ahead, the blackness stretched to infinity. She wasn't in a shared dream any longer; somehow she knew that.

This was Michael's dream. And in his dream, he was alone.

Tears built in her eyes as she neared the shaft of white light where he crouched-- naked-- head resting on his knees. His bare back glimmered in the illumination. It came from nowhere specific-- Maria looked for its source, but there was none. It just existed.

"Michael?" she whispered as she drew closer. He didn't answer-- maybe he couldn't hear her. "Michael, say something," she said, louder this time.

He still made no sound.

Maria was beside him now, and she slowly lowered herself to the ground, just outside the circle of light that surrounded him. "Michael?" she breathed. "Please speak to me. Please."

He shook his head and wrapped his arms tighter around his knees, pulling himself into a smaller ball.

Maria swallowed back the lump in her throat, and murmured, "Is this how you see yourself? Alone?" She cast her eyes around the blackness, and felt a tear roll down her cheek. "God, how many times have you been here?"

"I'm always here." Michael spoke so softly, Maria would have missed his voice if she hadn't been listening for it.

She didn't reach out to him. Somehow she knew he wouldn't want her to. Not just yet. "What do you mean?" she asked instead.

Michael looked up then and stared off into the infinite distance. Maria felt her heart beat a little faster-- amazing how just his profile could make her breath stop. "Every night," he murmured. "Every night I've come here. Since the first night."

Her heart tore. She could feel it rip in her chest. "You're not alone, Michael," she told him softly. "You've never been alone. Max, Isabelle...Liz. Me." He looked at her then, and she managed a smile, despite her tears. "We are always here for you."

Michael's eyes pulled away from her then, and she choked at the loss of contact. "Not now," he murmured. "I'm by myself now. They even took you away." She saw a single tear slip down his sculpted cheek, marking a glistening path in the light, highlighting his vulnerability.

"I don't want to be alone anymore, Maria," he whispered. "I can't be alone anymore. I hate it here."

"I'm here with you now."

"This isn't you."

"Then who am I?"

"You're a dream."

"No I'm not."

Michael snorted and buried his face in his knees. "You're close enough to one," he muttered. Faintly, the light around him dimmed.

//He's giving up.// The thought burned through Maria like a poker. //My God, he's giving up.//

"Michael?" Her voice was high-pitched and panicked. "Michael? What's happening? MICHAEL?"

"I don't want to be alone anymore," he muttered again, and the light grew even fainter. "I'm tired of being alone. And I'm tired of hurting. I don't want to hurt anymore."

"MICHAEL!" Maria couldn't think. He was disappearing, being swallowed up by the blackness. She would lose him, and she couldn't take that. "Michael, PLEASE, don't do this!" she begged. "Please!"

And she reached out to him.

******

The instant her hand made contact, Maria felt the change. It would have bowled her over, but she gripped his arm tighter, and remained upright.

Pain. Terror. Loneliness. His floodgates were opened to her, and all the doors he'd locked suddenly unlatched to allow her in. She could feel everything-- beneath his true-body, the cold tile that never seemed to warm up; the hot stickiness of blood. The throbbing pain that never went away. The fear that Topolsky would come back; that he would never be able to move again. And worst of all, his terror for her. That he would never see his beautiful Mariaangel again. Mariavoice, Marialips, Mariafingers. That he had lost her forever. The words and sensations began to run together as the world turned hazy.

//NO!// Maria screamed into his mind. "//NO! Michael, please! Please don't give up! I promised I'd never leave you. You remember that, right? Why would I lie? You aren't alone! I'm here with you. I will ALWAYS be here with you!//

//Go away, Maria,// he replied, his mind speaking to hers. //If you're here when...it happens, you might....you might, too.//

//Michael, I will NOT let you die,// she told him, praying that she could make him hold on just a little longer...

//I don't think you can stop it, Maria,// he replied. //Besides,// he continued-- snorting-- his mind-voice sounding almost smug, //imagine the look on that bitch's face when her prized guinea pig dies by her hand. Her boss will give her hell for that-- maybe she'll be flayed. I could take seeing her skinless.//

Maria gripped him tighter. //Please, Michael,// she whispered. //Please. I'm scared to be without you. It's so cold there. I don't want to go back there and know you're gone.//

There was silence from him for a long minute, and Maria began to worry that he had drifted too far already. Until finally, he spoke.

//I feel you.//

It was sent with a sense of wonder. Of complete disbelief. Maria could feel it pouring off him in waves. //What do you mean?// she asked.

//I can feel you,// he repeated. It was the equivalent of a psychic whisper, but it roared in Maria's ears. //You're scared. You're lonely. Your legs hurt, but you don't care. You want me to...to touch you again. You think if I leave, you'll be all alone.// The next part came even quieter. //You...you LOVE me.//

Tears ran down the dream-Maria's cheeks. //It took you this long to figure that out, spaceboy?// she asked.

//W-why?// he asked her, and the dream-Maria's eyes saw the light around him grow brighter.

//Because I just do, you doof,// she told him. //Who knows the specifics? Because you kiss like you mean it, maybe. Because you argue better than anyone I know. Because everytime I see you-- in the halls at school, in a booth at the Crashdown, lying beside me on that damn cot-- all I can wonder is what my life might have been like without you. And all I can think is that I'm glad I never have to find out.//

//But...I dragged you into this. I hurt you.//

//You kissed me,// Maria replied, her free hand going to Michael's cheek and turning his face to look at her. His eyes were wide with the disbelief she felt coming off him. //You touched me so gently. You cared enough for me to try and protect me from your fear, your pain. You gave me your mind- let me see your dreams.// She stroked his cheek. //I think that outweighs a few bruises.//

Michael just gazed at her for a long moment. She could feel his emotions changing, but they were so confused, she couldn't tell them apart.

Until he kissed her. Then she coudln't feel anything but his lips.

//I realized something,// he murmured into her mind as his lips held hers.

//How can you think at a time like this?// she asked as her hands snaked around his neck.

//You always make me think,// he told her, and she could almost hear him grinning at her. //I've never seen anyone else here before,// he continued, wrapping his arms around her slim waist and pulling her body under the halo of light with him, so that she pressed against his bare chest. //It's always just been me.//

//Your point?// Maria's thoughts were a jumble of sensations-- his and her own.

//Maybe I'm not alone after all.//

Their lips separated. Michael gazed into her eyes, and Maria realized that the light which now surrounded them shone so brightly, it had destroyed the dark.

******

ELSEWHERE...

"Listen, little man," Isabelle said through gritted teeth to the munchkin valet on the other side of the door. "If you don't let me through this door, I'm going to get pissed. Have you ever seen me pissed?"

"I'm not allowed to let anyone in who isn't authorized," the valet told her, as if from some moral highground she could only hope to achieve.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. Time moved strangely in dreamland, but she knew she had to have been standing here for at least an hour, arguing with the damned munchkin behind the door. She'd tried the gamut-- smiles, flirting, pleading. Now it had degenerated into threats. Soon, it would be violence.

"Look," she said again, glaring at him through the little portal, "we both know that if this comes to a fight, I will SO take you down. So why don't we just cut the crap. Open the door for me, I'll go find Maria, and everybody's happy and still in possession of all their limbs. Sound like a plan?"

"You're not getting in."

"You don't seem to be listening."

"Neither do you."

"Why you little--!" Her hand reached for him, but her knuckles just made impact with the hard emerald of the shuttle-door as he slammed it closed. Isabelle sat back hard, shaking her hand and cursing.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, standing up and brushing herself off. "There has GOT to be another way in." She began to look around, searching for a crack or fissure in the smooth emerald sides of the city.

"Do you promise to be good?" The voice coming from the door was different this time. Isabelle looked back at the little portal and jumped. The valet had been replaced-- now she was gazing into the kindly eyes of Glinda the Good Witch.

Figuring it was best not to stutter in this situation, Isabelle straightened her shoulders and nodded. "Absolutely," she told the lovely witch. "All I want to do is find Maria."

Glinda looked at her appraisingly for a minute, but finally smiled. "I believe you," she said cheerfully. Looking down at something behind the door-- supposedly the valet, she said, "Open the door, Wilberforce. Let the girl in."

Isabelle didn't allow herself a sigh of relief until she heard the lock tumble out of place-- barely masking the grumbling of the cranky valet-- and she saw the door swing open. "Thank you," she told Glinda as she started through the door, past the witch.

"We had to be sure," Glinda said, smiling brightly. "Back doors attract the strangest visitors, not all of whom have the best of intentions."

Isabelle smiled back. "I understand. And thank you again." Looking down at the valet beside the good witch, she chuckled. "Catch ya later, Wilberforce."

Ignoring his sputtering, she continued through the door and found herself in flames.

//This should be interesting,// Isabelle thought as she began to charge headlong through the raging inferno. //God, why can't they have NORMAL dreams, about sex and stuff, like everyone else? No, it has to be grumpy munchkins and forest fires!//

She growled under her breath as a burning tree branch fell across the path in front of her, forcing her to leap over it. //I swear,// she thought angrily as she rolled into a standing position and started running again, //If I get any more problems in this dream, someone is going to find themselves equipped with a brand new orifice, and I will personally rip it for them.//

******

"No one gets in to see the lord and lady!"

"GODDAMMIT!" Isabelle shrieked to the burning heavens. "What the hell is WRONG with all you people?" She turned her eyes back to the thin man-- //Will Scarlet. Robin Hood. Very cute.//-- in front of her. "Look, WILL," she growled, emphasizing his name, "I've already dealt with anal munchkins, suspicious witches, something that looked like a dead Celt being eaten by rats-- I don't even want to THINK about that-- and at least fifty people trying to keep me from getting this far." She glowered at him. "But they couldn't stop me, and neither can you. Now, I don't like to resort to violence, but if you don't let me into that tent, someone is going to find themselves very, very dead. And I DON'T mean me. Do we understand each other?" She arched a pretty eyebrow at him-- it helped her feel menacing.

He glared back at her. "Why should I let you in?"

Well, at least he wasn't flatly refusing anymore. That must mean SOMETHING. "Because it is a matter of life and death," she said. "Namely, theirs. Got it?"

Will looked closely at her for a moment. Lots of people seemed to be doing that lately-- it made Isabelle feel like a caged mouse.

Finally, he nodded tersely. "Very well, miss." He sighed. "I'll get meself flayed for doin' this, but I just can't resist the pleas of a beautiful woman." He moved the tent flap aside for her.

Isabelle rolled her eyes to heaven and mouthed, 'Thank you!' before moving towards the entrance. "Thanks," she said out loud as she moved past him.

He caught her arm, and she looked at him. "After all this is over, luv," he said suggestively, "if we get outta this alive, you think you might want to..." He twiddled his eyebrows.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and yanked her arm from his grasp. "You've GOT to be one of Michael's creations," she muttered, and breezed past him into the tent.

******

The light was so bright, it was almost blinding, but Maria didn't close her eyes. It would have meant she couldn't look at him any longer. She couldn't bear that thought.

//Do you think we should go back now?// she asked, gazing down at him as she cupped his face between her palms.

He shook his head and ran his hands up her back. She straddled his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he gazed up at her in adoration. It made Maria glow, despite the light. //Not yet,// he told her. //I think we should stay here a little longer.//

She grinned. //I can take that,// she told him, and leaned forward to kiss him again.

"MARIA!"

They broke apart quickly, and Maria craned her head around to look over her shoulder towards the voice. That had sounded like...//Isabelle?//

//How did she get in?// Michael asked, confused.

Maria was about to answer that she didn't know, when the full import of the situation hit. Her eyes went wide, and she looked back at Michael in shock. //OHMYGOD!// she almost screamed into his head. //Isabelle found us!//

//This I gathered,// he told her. //Your point?//

//She must know...I don't know, SOMETHING.//

"MARIA!" came Isabelle's voice. "MICHAEL! Where are you two?!"

"Isabelle!" Maria called back. "We're over here!"

"Keep talking!" Isabelle replied, and Maria could hear her voice drawing closer. "That way I can find you!"

"How did you get into my dream?" Michael called, tightening his arms around Maria. He was afraid-- Maria could feel that. No one had ever penetrated his dreams before-- now two had done so in one night. It was a new and frightening experience. Maria held him closer, and rested her cheek on his hair, letting her contentment wash over him, soothe him.

"Trust me," Isabelle was saying. "That is a LONG story for another time."

There was a dark swirl in the bright light, and a flash of blonde hair. "Isabelle!" Maria called, before the other girl ran past them. "We're here!"

She saw the swirl stop, turn, and move closer, until it formed itself into Isabelle.

The tall girl looked down at them with an appraising eye-- Maria, dressed in green scrubs, and Michael, naked, twined together in the most suggestive of ways. She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I will admit, THIS is a bit of a surprise." She chuckled.

Maria started to stand, but the other girl held out a hand to stop her. "No, please," she said vehemently. "I'd rather not...see all there is to see."

Maria blushed, but Michael didn't. "Hey, Izzy," he said.

Isabelle smiled at him. "Hey, Michael. You've got us all worried, you know. Damn near gave us all a heart attack when you disappeared." Her eyes went to Maria's face. "You, too." She looked them over again. "Though you seem to have gotten on all right."

Maria blushed again, and she heard Michael's voice, teasing, in her head, //You look cute enough to eat when you blush.//

She looked him in the eye and leaned in close. //You look cute enough to eat ANYTIME.//

He grinned.

"Um, hello?" Isabelle's hand appeared in front of Michael's face, waving between the two of them. Maria looked up, and saw the taller girl looking at them, puzzled. "Did something just happen here, or did I become invisible?" she asked.

Maria bit her lip bashfully, and felt Michael's aroused reaction to the movement. It made her giggle. "Um, Michael and I...we can kinda...hear each others' thoughts," she explained. //And very naughty thoughts they are, spaceboy,// she sent to him.

//What can I say? You bring out the bad boy in me.//

//Can I get that in writing?//

"Would you two mind?" Isabelle cut in, and Maria looked back again, embarassed. "I'm here to try and save your lives, not watch you have ultra-cybersex."

"Save our lives?" Maria asked, feeling her own excitement mix with Michael's. "What...what do you mean? How?"

Isabelle smiled, and knelt so she was eye to eye with them. "I have a plan," she told them, and quickly described her idea for, as Max had put it, the telepathic tracking device.

"You mean, put ANOTHER psychic link in my head?" Maria asked dubiously.

Isabelle shook her head. "No, it's not like that," she said. "This is strictly about location-- I can't feel or hear or see anything you can, but I'll be able to find where you are."

Michael looked skeptical. "Izzy," he said. "None of us has ever done something like this before. How do you know you won't...permanently damage something? In you OR Maria?"

Isabelle bit her lip-- she'd obviously thought this same thing herself. "I don't think we have a choice," she said. "Unless you two know where you are?" At their silence, she continued. "Well neither do we." She shrugged helplessly. "We're out of options."

"Can you try it on me?" Michael asked, and Maria could feel his disappointment when Isabelle shook her head.

"Our minds are built differently, Michael," she said soberly. "Much more intricately-- that's why we have the powers we have. I don't know if I could find the right place to put the locator with you. With Maria, it's different."

There was silence amongst the three of them, and Maria knew she was the center of it. So she chose to break it.

"Let's do it," she said. //It's our only choice,// she assured Michael when he looked at her in protest. //I'll be fine. Isabelle knows what she's doing.//

//What if she doesn't?//

//Look what happened when YOU did it. I'm still alive and kicking, right?//

//You're also lying in a prison cell.//

//That's beside the point.//

"Can I cut in here?" Isabelle asked, drawing their attention to her. When they were looking at her, she sighed. "If you're sure, Maria, then we should do this now. The sooner I link you, the sooner we find you."

Maria nodded. "Go ahead, Isabelle." She smiled at the other girl. "I trust you."

Isabelle's eyes softened, and she leaned forward to place her palm on Maria's temple.

Michael's arms tightened around her waist as a faint glow built between Maria's cheek and Isabelle's hand. Maria could feel a tingling sensation against her skin, then deeper, in her skull.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light. Maria winced, feeling Isabelle's hand fall away. Looking up, she saw the other girl shaking her head, dazed. "Isabelle?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

"Izzy?" Michael sounded worried-- for both of them.

The taller girl took a moment to respond, but finally, she looked up. When she did, she was smiling. "Gotcha," she said softly, tapping her temple. "Gotcha right here."

Maria grinned. "It worked?"

Isabelle nodded, and leapt to her feet. "Oh yeah. God I'm good." She was beaming. "We'll be seeing you soon, guys," she said, dusting herself off. "REALLY soon." And she disappeared.

*******

When she sat bolt upright in bed, Isabelle became aware of three things very quickly.

One, it was almost dark outside, meaning she'd slept for several hours.

Two, Liz and Max were still sitting on the end of her bed, as they had when she fell asleep. Albeit, slightly closer to each other now. //God, I hope they weren't making out while I was busy saving the world,// she thought.

Three, she was smiling.

Max picked up on number three, and started smiling, too. "It worked?" he said softly.

Isabelle nodded.

Liz was smiling now. "You can find them?"

Isabelle nodded again.

Max stood quickly, helping Liz up. "Then what are we waiting for?" he asked.

Isabelle stood as well. "My question exactly," she replied. "Do you have the keys?"

******

Maria stared at the place Isabelle had been for a long minute.

//Whatcha thinking about?// Michael asked her.

She smiled, and looked back at him. //You know what I'm thinking,// she replied playfully. //Why bother asking?//

//Because I like to rile you up,// he replied with a grin.

She chucked him in the arm. //I just can't believe...we're almost home,// she told him.

His face grew grim for a second. //They have to rescue us first,// he reminded her.

Maria nodded, but she couldn't stop smiling. //I know,// she replied, pressing her forehead against his, //but they will. They'll save us. I know it.//

He smiled back. //Then I'll let your optimism carry us both,// he told her.

She wanted to answer, but couldn't. Instead, she suddenly found herself fading away, as in the real world, someone moved her body.

Chapter 11

-Bif Naked "Spaceman"

******

The hands that held her were not gentle as Maria's eyes snapped open.

"Wha-what?" she stammered as she felt herself being lifted-- when the hell had she gotten dressed?-- and then set down roughly on a gurney. "What's going on?" she managed to say, struggling feebly against the burly men who were strapping her down. But her legs still ached terribly, and she couldn't fight very hard.

Suddenly, Topolsky's sharp face leaned in over her, and Maria stilled. "We might have told your boyfriend that you could stay here," the agent told her bluntly, "but we didn't say for how long. We still have tests to run, procedures to follow. He was an obstacle, so we temporarily removed him." She sighed and checked her fingernails, as though beating Michael to a bloody pulp had been a hassle not worthy of her precious time.

Maria glared at the older woman, and poured every ounce of venom she could muster into the look. "Whatever you did to him," she growled, trying not to belie the fact that she knew EXACTLY what she had done, "you'll pay. I promise, you'll pay."

Topolsky chuckled. "I'm sure you'd try, if you could. But," she stood back, and Maria felt herself being rolled forward, toward the door, "since you are going to be QUITE incapacitated for a while, I don't think I have to worry just yet."

"I WILL GET YOU TOPOLSKY!" Maria cried as she was wheeled out the door. "I SWEAR THAT!"

"Gag her," came the older woman's smooth voice, and one of the men surrounding the gurney pulled a white roll of surgical tape from his pocket. Ripping off a long piece, he smoothed it over Maria's mouth, ignoring her screams of protest. She couldn't speak now-- all she could manage were muffled roars as they wheeled her down the dark corridor to God alone knew where.

"MICHAEL!" she screamed mentally, praying that their speech-link hadn't only been part of the dream. "MICHAEL! HELP ME!"

******

"MICHAEL! MICHAEL, HELP ME!"

Michael's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright as the voice reverberated through his head. He immediately regretted it, as the pain he'd forgotten while asleep made itself blatantly obvious in waking. "Oh...God..." he groaned, falling back to the tile in a boneless heap.

That had been Maria's voice. So, their mind-reading capabilities DIDN'T just function in the dreamworld. The emotion and physical aspects, though, were a different story. Michael couldn't sense those parts of her anymore-- it left him feeling lonely. Not that he needed them-- it didn't take a mind reader to understand that Maria's mental voice had been scared. Terrified even.

His muscles tensed as realization hit. "What the fuck am I doing?" he said out loud. "Maria!"

With an inhuman fit of strength-- and a good dose of willpower-- he forced himself into a sitting position, ignoring the screaming pain in his chest from his broken ribs. Grabbing hold of a nearby table, he pulled himself to his feet and let himself sway for a moment as he fought down the urge to vomit.

God he hurt.

"How am I going to do this?" he asked himself. "Just how the FUCK am I going to do this?"

"MICHAEL! MICHAEL, PLEASE!"

That did it. Pain or not, she needed him.

Michael's face went hard, and his eyes turned to black ice. That bitch Topolsky was hurting Maria-- it was time he hurt that bitch Topolsky.

Banishing his pain to the back of his mind, he pushed away from the table and took a few shaky steps toward the door. Slowly, his legs solidified-- now they were hard jelly, rather than soft jelly. But they would have to do.

The door seemed like an impossible goal, but Michael made it somehow. When he reached out to turn the handle, he paused long enough to stare at his hand. It was streaked with blood-- dry and rust brown. The stuff was caked under his fingernails like mud. He was suddenly glad there were no mirrors in this room-- just the thought of what he must look like right now was enough to make him want to give up. But then he thought of how wonderful it would be to cake Topolsky's blood under her own fingernails, and he grinned. This was going to be good.

Michael turned the handle without much hope of success, and was surprised to find it moved easily in his hand. "They must have thought I was well and truly whipped," he thought smugly. "Guess the guinea pig is going to surprise them." The door swung open and he stumbled out into the sparsely-lit corridor. Leaning against the wall for support, he opened his eyes and found himself facing 'Huey.'

Fighting back his surprise and fear, Michael quirked a pained grin and said, "Hey there, big guy. Betcha didn't expect to see me again so soon, huh?"

'Huey' looked a mixture of surprised and confused. "Strong but stupid-- perfect," Michael had time to think, just before the enormous guard leapt across the corridor at him.

"Uh-uh," Michael tsked, raising his hand. "I don't think so."

He felt an odd roiling sensation, like boiling electricity, thrumming in his arm. Raising his hand, he watched as a bolt of bright red light pulsed from his palm, catching the burly guard square in the chest. 'Huey' flew backwards and slammed into the wall. It didn't knock him out, but he looked dazed, and Michael decided to take advantage of the situation.

Pushing away from the wall- and suppressing the urge to groan-- he walked across the wide passageway until he stood in front of the woozy guard. Holding out a hand, Michael watched the big man's eyes grow wide with fear as a glowing nimbus of blue light surrounded him, lifting him up high enough for Michael to slam his hand against his chest and pin him to the wall.

Widening his eyes with mock surprise, Michael said, "Well, whaddaya know? Looks like the lab rat learned some new tricks." Keeping the shock out of his own voice was quite a trick in itself. He didn't know for the life of him where these powers were coming from-- he'd never seen anything like them before. But he wasn't about to question them.

Leaning in close, so that he was eye to eye with 'Huey,' he hissed, "Where is she?"

"Who-who are you talking about?" the big man gibbered, hedging.

Michael found a sick kind of pleasure in terrifying the guard, and he pushed him harder against the wall. "Maria," he growled. "Where. Is. She."

"Lab two!" the man exclaimed, this time without hesistation, his eyes wide with fear. "They're taking her to lab two! Other end of the facility. That way!" He pointed frantically down the hall to Michael's right.

"And Topolsky?"

"She'll be there, too!"

Michael grinned. "There," he said. "See how easy life can be when we're civil with one another?" Releasing 'Huey', he watched the man slump down the wall. "But," he continued, "since I can't have you sounding the alarm." He reached out and backhanded the man, putting as much force behind the action as he could muster. 'Huey's' head snapped to the side and he collapsed to the floor, unconcious.

Michael admired his handiwork for a moment, massaging his fist. But a wave of nausea suddenly washed through him as his adrenaline ebbed, and he had to lean forward against the wall or risk joining the guard on the floor. "Maria. Think of Maria," he repeated over and over, like a mantra. His reason for breathing.

Michael rested there for a long minute, sucking in deep, greedy breaths, eyes closed against the pain. "I'm going to mess you up, Topolsky," he finally growled between gulps, forcing his eyes to open. "I'm going to make you bleed." Keeping his forehead in contact with the smooth plaster wall of the sparsely-lit corridor, Michael twisted his head around so that he gazed down the hall in the direction the guard had indicated. "Lab two," he muttered. Pushing away from the wall, he began to jog down the hall. Pained and stilted, but moving fast.

******

ELSEWHERE....

"This is it!"

Max Evans stepped hard on the brake, and the open-air jeep came to a halt. They'd left the road long ago, following Isabelle's tingling link through the darkness and cross-country to the middle of nowhere. Casting a dubious eye around the empty New Mexico desert, lit only by moonlight and a few choice stars, he asked, "Are you sure, Izzy?"

His sister nodded wildly, eyes alight. "Positive, Max," she assured him as she stepped out onto the dusty ground. "They're here."

"But...there's nowhere here for them to be," Liz observed, climbing out of the back seat and moving to stand beside Isabelle.

The other girl barely registered Liz's presence-- her eyes scanned the desert, as if looking for something. A clue. "Doesn't matter," she said distractedly. "They're here."

Max joined the two girls, and all three of them began eagerly searching the endless vistas of azure-toned sand for some sign of their missing friends. But there was nothing.

After a few minutes, Max spoke up softly. "Maybe something went wrong."

Isabelle's eyebrows gathered in consternation. "No," she argued. "No, I KNOW I did it right. I KNOW I did!" She stamped her foot petulantly.

CLANG!

Isabelle froze. Max and Liz looked at her, shocked. In unison, all three looked down at the blonde girl's feet.

"What the hell was that?" Isabelle asked no one in particular.

"Try it again," Liz encouraged, her voice high-pitched with excitement.

Isabelle did as she was told, and stomped on the loose-packed desert earth again. STOMP-STOMP!

Two CLANG-CLANGs answered the movement.

Three pairs of eyes met. Three identical smiles sparkled to life.

"Anyone bring a shovel?" Liz asked.

******

ELSEWHERE...

The huge room they wheeled Maria into looked like something out of 'Star Wars.' One entire wall was covered in flashing lights and beeping equipment-- computer stations and observation terminals. In one corner stood a tall, deep water tank, filled to the brim and bubbling with oxygen. She didn't want to even think what that was for. She didn't want to think what ANY of this was for, but that wasn't really much of an option.

Directly in the center, where her gurney was headed, stood a stainless steel surgical table, replete with stirrups and sterile white paper sheets. Maria's eyes widened with fear as they approached it, and she began to pull at her restraints again.

"Put the girl on the table," Topolsky ordered from out of sight, and Maria found herself being unstrapped and lifted again. She struggled weakly, trying to wrench her body from the hands that held her, but she couldn't break free. Her vocal cords strained as they placed her on the table and she screamed behind her gag.

"It does no good to scream, Ms. Deluca," she heard Topolsky explain, as if she were speaking to a two year old. "No one can hear you."

Her wrists were being lashed down. Her waist was being strapped down. A cord was looped over her throat to hold her head down. She screamed again. 'No one can hear you,' Topolsky had said. But she wouldn't let herself believe that.

"MICHAEL!" she screamed mentally, louder than ever before. "God, Michael, HURRY!"

******

The mental voice hit him like a fist, and Michael stumbled, collapsing to the floor. "Holy shit," he thought as the voice rang in his head. "That was loud."

He lay, panting, on the speckled tile of the corridor for a few seconds longer. His entire body throbbed-- he wanted nothing more than to stop here. Just stop here and sleep, and forget the pain for a little while.

"No," he reprimanded himself. "Maria. You want Maria. More than anything. More than peace. Remember?"

He did.

"Then get the fuck up off the floor, Sherlock."

He did.

"I'm coming Maria," he muttered as he began his shuffling jog again, faster now, with more purpose. "I'm coming, I swear."

"Why don't you tell her that, dipwad."

So he did.

*****

"I'm coming, Maria."

The voice was so unexpected, it stilled Maria's struggling for a split second. "Michael?" she sent.

She could hear his mental chuckle. "You let other guys get in your head?"

The joy that suffused her then almost counteracted her fear. Almost.

"Michael, hurry, please!" she begged as she saw Topolsky loom into view again. The woman was giving orders, but Maria didn't listen-- they weren't important. "They're.....TESTING me!"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm all strapped down on this table, and...God, Michael, I think they're going to EXAMINE me!"

There was silence for a long second, and Maria began to worry she'd lost the connection. "Michael?" she sent. "Michael, are you there?"

"Is Topolsky there, too?" The question was unexpected, but the hostility in his voice wasn't.

Maria resisted the urge to nod. "Yeah."

She felt the equivalent of a mental nod. "I'm coming, golden girl," he assured her. "Just hang on. I'll be there soon."

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she fought them down. "Promise?"

"Could I let my happiness get hurt?"

She felt the connection go dormant again. Odd how she could sense it now; sense it's loss. But it was still there, waiting to be opened again. And it made her take heart.

Enough so that she could glare into Topolsky's eyes and barely shiver when the woman said, "Let's begin, shall we?"

******

ABOVE GROUND....

"I've got something!" Liz exclaimed, and Max and Isabelle were immediately at her side.

"What? What is it?" Isabelle asked excitedly. They'd all been hacking at the dirt for several minutes now, revealing a metallic structure hidden just beneath the surface of the desert sand. But no door. Yet.

"I think it's an entrance!" Liz explained as she dropped her small portable shovel and fell to her knees, brushing the rest of the sandy soil away with her hands.

Max and Isabelle knelt down beside her and eagerly began pushing the sand out of the way. Sure enough, a rectangular door began to take shape. A flat handle was recessed in the metal, and all three of them stared at it.

"Do you think it's unlocked?" Isabelle asked.

"Would you lock a hidden door in the middle of the desert beneath six-inches of sand?" Max asked.

"Does it really matter?" Liz opted.

Isabelle and Max looked at each other-- no, it didn't.

All three of them looked at one another then, faces solemn. This was it.

Reaching out a delicate hand-- the manicure of which had been ruined by the desert sand-- Isabelle grabbed the handle, pulled it up, and twisted.

There was a protesting shriek of metal grinding against metal, and then a satisfying POP as the tumblers shifted. With a smooth motion, the door whooshed open, and Isabelle pulled it up.

The three teenagers stared down into the darkness below. The first few rungs of a ladder could just barely be seen in the faint blue moonlight. It looked like a tomb.

None of them spoke for a second.

"I'll go first," Max said eventually. "Then Isabelle. Then Liz. Got it?" The two girls nodded, and he took a deep breath. "All right then. Let's go."

Shifting around so that his feet touched the rungs of the ladder, Max began his downward climb into darkness.

When he stepped off the bottom rung, he looked quickly to the left and right to be sure the coast was well and truly clear. Not seeing anyone, Max called softly up the ladder, "Come on down, Izzy!" He heard her shuffling around on the surface, and turned his attention back to his dark surroundings.

Which was why he was only slightly surprised when Michael slammed right into him.

******

"Am I cursed?" Michael thought absently as he found himself suddenly tangled with another mass of arms and flailing limbs. They fell to the floor, and Michael heard the other figure let out a gust of air as the wind was knocked out of him.

"I just have a small dream," Michael thought bitterly. "Namely, to get to fucking Lab two, rescue Maria, and beat the shit out of that bitch Topolsky. Why can't I just do that?" He tensed his muscles for a fight.

So the voice that came to his ears was beyond shocking. It was breathtaking.

"Michael?"

He couldn't believe it. It wasn't...it couldn't be..."Max?"

He felt the arms that had been fighting him off moments earlier suddenly switch direction and begin hugging him. "My God, Michael!" Max exclaimed. "I can't believe...!"

"Michael!?"

His eyes squinted up at Isabelle's voice. "Izzy?"

"MICHAEL!" She knelt beside him and added her own arms to the pair that were already entangling him.

"MICHAEL!"

He managed a dry chuckle as Liz suddenly fell on him, too. Three of the people he cared for most in this life-- who he'd never thought he would see again-- were hugging him right now. God, this felt good.

Wait a minute. No it didn't.

"PLEASE GET OFF RIGHT NOW!" he almost bellowed, and it worked like magic. The three people enclosing him fell away like a banana peel, leaving Michael gasping between them, curled up against the wall, one arm wrapped around his abused ribs.

"Michael?" Isabelle sounded worried. "Michael, what...Oh my God, Max, look at him!"

"I see, Izzy." Max's voice had taken on that serious tone it always held when danger was brewing. Michael couldn't see his face-- he couldn't see much of anything through the pain. He just rocked slightly back and forth, biting his lip, praying the pain would ebb so he could run again.

"Help...me...up," he croaked.

He heard the shocked gasps from his small circle of friends. "Michael, you need help," Isabelle said. "You can't keep--"

"Just help me up!" he repeated, louder this time. Forcing his eyes open, he looked at each one of his friends. "I...don't have time to...be...healed. Gotta...help Maria."

They all looked scared when he said that. "Maria's in danger?" Liz squeaked.

Michael chuckled as he began to force himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. "We're all in danger, Liz," he told her, hissing with pain as he walked his hands up the wall, pulling himself to his feet. "I just intend to do something about it."

He started moving again, but felt Max grab his arm. "Man, let us do this," the other boy told him. "You are in no condition to be saving anyone."

Michael stared into Max's eyes-- a battle of wills. Max threw Michael's pain at him-- his wounds, his shakiness. The quivering of his muscle's beneath Max's hand. The unsteady set of his feet.

Michael had only one argument-- Maria. He screamed it loud and clear with his eyes and the set of his jaw. And he won.

Max released his arm abruptly, and Michael bobbed his head in the other teen's direction. "Come on, Maximillian," he murmured, and began running again, pushing his muscles to the maximum, making up for lost time.

Max watched Michael go, then started after him, Isabelle and Liz close behind.

******

"They're here."

It was only a brief message, but it made Maria's breath come easier. Well, easy was a relative term. She still felt as though her lungs were in a steel vise of panic.

"Hurry," she sent back, unable to form anything more coherent. "Please hurry."

Topolsky had changed into surgical green, and she towered over Maria's prone, helpless form. "This will be a simple procedure," she said. "Just a routine internal examination, to determine if anything was damaged during the intercourse you took part in last night."

"Fudd voo," Maria spat through her gag, hoping the older woman couldn't read the fear that was burning in her eyes.

Topolsky didn't comment. Instead, she began turned to one of the guards who stood nearby. "Remove her pants," she instructed the man.

Maria squirmed away from him, but couldn't get far-- the damned restraints looped around her wrists, waist and neck held her almost immobile. The sheer lack of movement terrified her even more than her vulnerability.

She scrunched her eyes shut, unable to watch as her scrubs were stripped off, leaving her lower body almost bare, except for the plain white panties.

"You're probably hoping your boyfriend will come breezing through that door," Topolsky said suddenly, and Maria forced her eyes to open and stare at the woman. The agent's eyes were sparking, all attempts at cool composure thrown to the four winds. "He's not going to, you know," she continued, leaning in close. "I made sure of that. I left him bleeding on the floor on the other side of the compound. He's probably dead by now. And I don't really care."

She looked away and began to circle around Maria's head. "You see, none of this is sanctioned," she explained, swooping in so that she was inches away from Maria's face, causing the girl to flinch away. "My boss doesn't know about it-- nobody knows about it. Just you, and me, a few hired guards, and a dying alien half-way to hell who's probably dead already."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Maria's heart leapt, and she whipped her eyes away from Topolsky to gaze in adoration at the battered young man who leaned in the doorway.

"Mr. Guerin." Topolsky's voice was smooth, cool-- but Maria could hear a different note in that usually implacable voice. Perhaps even a little fear. "I must admit, it's quite a shock to see you here. Come to save your damsel?"

He pushed away from the doorframe and began to advance into the room. Maria found herself wincing with every step he took-- God, how much did each jarring inch hurt him? It made her want to cry.

"Let her go," Michael ordered through gritted teeth, ignoring Topolsky's last remark.

The woman laughed. "I don't think you're in a position to be making demands, Mr. Guerin," she told him. "In case you hadn't noticed, you're outnumbered, and in no state to put up any kind of a fight."

He returned her smug grin with one of his own. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" he asked. "But you'd be wrong."

And he struck.

******

That familiar flow of roaring, surging power coiled inside him again, and Michael raised his hand to release it.

The beam of red light was blinding this time. It struck Topolsky square in the chest, and she flew backwards, away from the table, slamming with bone-breaking force into the wall of electronics. Sparks exploded around her as she slumped, dazed and delirious, to the floor.

Michael didn't have much time to savor his temporary victory. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and swivelled just in time to catch the approaching guard with an equally intense burst of light. The monstrous man flew backwards, crashing into the wall. The impact snapped his neck backwards. There was a loud CRACK, and then the man lay still.

Michael cast his gaze around the room at the four other guards who stood nearby. "Any other takers?" he asked.

They stared back at him for a second, then ran.

He'd never known men that big could move so fast, but they were quickly gone. He toyed briefly with the idea of killing them all before they could reach the door, but the idea held no savor for him. That other guard had been an accident. He didn't want to kill anyone.

Except Topolsky.

"So, you thought I was dead, huh?" Michael asked, moving further into the room. He chuckled and paused, holding his arms out to the sides, and ignoring the shrieking pain in his broken ribs. He wished briefly that he had taken the time to at least partially mend those. But it was too late now. "Well, here I am," he continued, beginning to move again. "In the flesh and in living color."

Topolsky was forcing her way up the sparking machinery, glaring at Michael with ice cold bitch-eyes. "Yeah, lots of color," she growled, pushing away from the wall. "Pretty reds and blacks and blues-- you look like a cartoon." But she didn't move forward.

Michael paused when he came to Maria's side. "Gee, what a coinky-dink," he said. "I love cartoons." Never taking his eyes from the blonde agent, he reached out and tenderly peeled away the surgical tape from Maria's mouth. He felt her warm gasp against his palm, and for a second, he almost looked down at her. But that was what Topolsky wanted-- a split second out of his gaze. "Hey, baby," he murmured to the girl laying on the surgical table. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Maria replied, and he felt her nod against his hand. "I'm fine."

Topolsky was itching for him to look away. Why not mess with her a bit? Leaning down, he found Maria's lips from memory, keeping his eyes open, upturned, and burning into the older woman's. "The other's will get you out," he told her softly. "I'm going to be a busy for a few minutes."

"Be careful," she sent back, and he could hear her worry.

Pulling away, he straightened up, allowing himself the luxury of stroking Maria's smooth cheek. "Don't worry about me," he told her. "Worry about Topolsky."

"Give her hell."

Michael grinned. "That's my girl." "Help her," he said out loud to the three people he knew were standing in the doorway. "Then get out."

Topolsky surprisingly managed to keep her focus on him as Max, Liz and Isabelle rushed forward to free Maria from her bonds. "So, you brought reinforcements?" she commented. "You're going to need them."

Michael shook his head. "No I won't," he told her. "This is between you and me."

There was silence between the two of them for a long minute, as Michael listened to his friends rescue his lover. He waited until he heard them scurry out the door.

Then, the fireworks started.

******

Maria didn't know if she should laugh or cry when she saw the others crowd around her. "Max! Isabelle! Lizzy!" she crowed.

Liz grinned down at her. "Hey there, chica," the dark-haired girl said. "What's up?"

"Oh, you know, getting strapped down to a table so that dememted psycho-agents can run experiments on you. The usual."

Max was busily loosening one of her wrists, while Isabelle worked at her waist and Liz freed her neck. She took a deep breath as the cords fell away. "Thank you," she told them.

Isabelle handed her the scrub pants. "You might...want to put these on," the other girl said, and Maria blushed.

"Oh, right," Maria murmured, and quickly sat up, swinging her protesting legs over the side of the table. She groaned.

"What? What's wrong?" Liz asked, worried.

Maria managed a forced smile. "Nothing," she lied. "Just my legs are kinda messed up." Ignoring her embarassment for a moment, she twitched her knees apart and showed them the feast of bruises that covered her inner thighs.

"Oh my God," Liz murmured, eyes wide, as Maria closed her legs quickly. "How...?"

"That's a long story for another time," Maria said. "But...I can't walk too well."

Max set his jaw. Without waiting for her to say anything else, he leaned in and picked her up off the table. "Let's get out of here," he said hurriedly, looking at Michael and Topolsky over Maria's shoulder. "Things are about to get heavy."

Maria glanced over her shoulder at Michael. She could only see his back, but the set of his shoulders told her volumes. "Be careful," she sent him again, knowing he was too focused to answer.

Max spun around then, and she had to twist her neck in the other direction to watch Michael's form grow smaller, before they were suddenly going through the door, and he was gone.

They were a quarter of the way to the ladder when the first explosion hit.

******

Topolsky somehow managed to dodge Michael's bolt of red energy this time, and it slammed into the electronics behind her. A shower of sparks exploded from the machinery, dazzling Michael's eyes, almost blinding him. But he somehow saw Topolsky's wild-eyed charge, and managed to swivel out of the way before she could ram him head on. Her shoulder clipped his hip, and they both went down.

Michael fought against her as she clawed at him, grinding her fist into the ribs she knew were broken. "BITCH!" he screamed in pain, throwing her off him. She flew backwards and collided with the edge of the table. He rolled on the floor, holding his ribs.

"Looks like I found a weak spot," he heard her hiss, and then she was on him again.

For an instant, they were back in the testing room. She had complete control-- he was just her pawn. Michael felt himself beginning to curl up and give in.

But then an image of Maria's prone, helpless form flashed into his mind, and a scream of inhuman fury escaped him. This woman was not going to win. He wouldn't let her.

Michael had now idea what his powers would do if used at this close range, but he didn't care. Managing to get his palm flat on Topolsky's stomach, he fired.

They flew apart. The impact sent Michael rolling backward to collide with the already abused computer wall. Topolsky skidded across the room and hit the water tank. Michael watched her though slitted eyes. She was moaning and holding her own stomach, which was smoking. He grinned.

"Gotcha," he hissed.

Forcing himself into a standing position, he began to advance on her. "So, none of this is sanctioned," he said, looking around. "Not bad," he contined, nodding appraisingly. "What, daddy give you a big allowance?"

She glared up at him. "It's amazing the things you can get money for in Washington," she told him. "Tack a little addition onto a Senate appropriations bill, and you're in business."

Michael tsked, and squatted down in front of her. "Those are my tax dollars you're using, Topolsky," he scolded. "And I don't think I like the way you've been managing them."

"Fuck off," she growled, and he chuckled.

Grabbing her by the front of her scrubs, he pulled her to her feet, ignoring her hiss of pain. The smell of burning flesh wafted to his nostrils, but he blipped over it. Slamming her back against the water tank, he muttered, "Before I kill you, I want to know one thing." He drew his arm across her throat and pinned her tighter. "Why?"

Topolsky's lips skinned back from her teeth. "Why not?"

He shook her, and she winced. "That's not an answer!" he yelled.

She squinted at him. "Why? You want to know why?"

Michael nodded.

Topolsky laughed. "Because I wanted to!" she told him. "Because I wanted to let those bastards back in Washington who dragged me over the coals because a few kids managed to blow my cover that I WAS RIGHT! That I COULD TAKE YOU DOWN!" She grinned. "And I did. I took you."

Michael bared his teeth in a ferile scowl. "Yeah, you did," he told her. "You just couldn't keep me."

He buried his fist in her midsection, holding her up so she couldn't double over. "That was for me," he told her.

Lifting Topolsky, Michael flung her, like a rag doll, over the top of the water tank. She landed with a splash and sank quickly, before kicking her way to the surface with a shriek of pain.

"That's for what you put my friends through," he told her.

Moving away from the tank, he walked to the electronic wall. All kinds of cords and wires, normally attached to their proper orifices, now dangled from the ceiling, dancing like so many charmed snakes. Grabbing hold of a particularly thick, sparking cable, he drew it back to the tank with him. "And this," he said, indicating the cable, "is for Maria. Have fun."

And he chucked the sparking cable into the tank.

Michael didn't stay to watch as the water electrified-- he turned his back as soon as the cord left his hands. This woman had meant nothing to him in life. He sure as hell didn't give a shit about her death.

Her shriek of fear then pain was more than enough to content him as he jogged from the room, leaving it all behind him.

******

"Where the hell is he!?" Maria shrieked, fighting against the hands that were holding her back.

"Maria, calm down!" Liz ordered, fingers digging into her arms. "He'll be here!"

"No he won't! It's been too long!" Maria shrieked, turning on her worried friends, eyes wild. "Oh, God, he's dead. He's dead and Topolsky killed him. No, God, please no!" "We have to go help him!"

"Who says I need help?"

Maria spun around again to see Michael pulling himself laboriously from the pitch black hole in the ground in front of her.

He grinned at her look of surprise. "Hey baby, where you been all my life?" he teased.

Maria could just gape at him like a fish for a long minute. Then, with a wordless cry, she threw her arms around his neck, and held him tightly.

"Oh, God, I thought I'd lost you," she sobbed into his shoulder as he slipped from the hole and wrapped his arms around her. "I thought you were gone."

Michael's strong hands stroked her back. "Not in that hell hole," he assured her softly. "I wasn't going to let that happen."

She smiled against his skin, but it quickly faded as he began to slump against her.

Pulling back, Maria looked at his collapsed form fearfully. "Michael?" she squeaked. "Michael, say something!"

"Michael?" Max said, very near her shoulder. She hadn't even noticed he was there. "Michael!"

The young man in question squinted up at them. "Ow," he croaked.

Maria stared at him for a moment, then bust out laughing. "You're lucky you're hurt, spaceboy," she told him, leaning forward to press her forehead to his and burying her fingers in his hair, "or I would beat you so badly for that!"

He chuckled. "Um, guys," he addressed the group, "I might be able to blow things up now and all-- and no, I DON'T know how I can do that-- but I still can't heal a papercut worth shit." He groaned. "Someone care to gimme a hand?"

They all laughed in nervous relief then, as Isabelle and Max leaned in to rest their hands on his battered body and heal him.

Maria smiled down into his face, tears pricking at her eyes. "We're out," she said silently, and saw him smile.

"I know."

"What happened to Topolsky?"

She felt his thoughts go dark at the name. "She's dead," he told her simply, and left it at that.

Maria knew it was fruitless to push the issue, so she just stroked his cheek and kissed his forehead. "So what now, rocket jockey?" she asked.

Michael seemed to consider for a moment. "Well," he finally said, "there is the whole first date thing. I suppose it's anticlimactic and all, but what do you say to dinner and a movie?"

Maria ignored the curious looks the others gave her as she started laughing against him. It felt good to laugh again. She never wanted to stop.

-Simon and Garfunkel "Bridge Over Troubled Water"

******

Chapter 12: Epilogue

TWO WEEKS LATER....

They were all clustered in her bedroom, scattered like feathers on all sides. Only Michael and Maria formed any kind of cohesion, side by side, hands linked, shoulders brushing. She basked in his comforting presence, and listened to the egg timer tick.

There was no other sound in the silent room except that incessant RICK-TICK-TICK, and Maria was beginning to wish she had just used her alarm clock. But it was too late now-- so she listened like everyone else.

The last two weeks had been heaven and hell. Maria's initial elation at seeing the sky again, breathing the fresh air, had been marred by her realization that her life had changed the instant she'd seen Michael's kidnapping. She now had a live-in lover, unbeknownst to her mother. It was easy enough to hide Michael in her room at night and in the morning, and her mother was gone enough of the day that their life could almost pattern itself after normalcy. Sometimes he'd 'drop by for dinner,' and her mother was never any the wiser. Maria loved her mom, but she was also eternally grateful the woman was a tad ditzy.

Her life had changed in other ways. She found the usual conversations about clothes and shopping not as interesting anymore. Maybe it took a week in nothing but scrubs and in constant fear for your life to make you realize the importance of what you had already, not what you could get that week at the mall. A smile quirked at her lips as she remembered Michael's initial reaction to wearing a shirt again. His eyes had grown so wide, she'd thought they were going to pop out of his head.

Michael. Maria squeezed his hand and felt his comforting return of the pressure. Thank God for him. He'd saved her a thousand times over in the past two weeks-- comforting her when a nightmare racked her slim frame. Offering a strong shoulder when she couldn't hold in the sobs at school and had to closet herself away in the eraser room. He never left her side if possible- he was always with her.

She'd almost lost him that night. The thought made her tremble-- she still couldn't believe it. Yet some part of her knew that it was the truth. Any minor tip of the scales, a single inch in Topolsky's direction, and he wouldn't be sitting beside her now, his fingers warm against hers. Sometimes at night, in the pale silver moonlight, Maria would gaze at him-- his smooth, strong chest, the valleys of shadow on his arms-- and search for scars. Something to prove that it had all happened, and that it hadn't been a psychotic nightmare. But there were none. Max and Isabelle had done their job well.

Maria blushed bright red then, and ducked her head to hide the coloring. She always blushed when she remembered his healing, because it was so intrinsically tied to her own healing. Isabelle had been the one to do it-- Maria would have been too mortified to feel Max's hands on the tender bruised flesh of her inner thighs. Even so, she had buried her face in Michael's arm in embarassment, as she reclined against him and let Isabelle heal her. His arms had wrapped protectivey around her, strong and comforting, as Isabelle worked. She could still remember the thrum of his frustration that he could not be the one to do it.

Explaining the bruises had been...difficult. Somehow, simply saying, "They beat him up and we had sex," didn't say enough. The explanation had lasted longer than she'd expected-- the entire trip back from the Desert of Nowhere to Main Street, Roswell. Maria had done most of the talking-- Michael had simply held her, silent. She didn't blame him. Her words were his-- they were of one mind.

But now, two weeks had passed. The bruises were gone, the handprints had faded, the scars were beginning to heal, and she had suddenly realized she was late.

The realization had struck that morning in history class, and the shock had been so great, she'd sent her notebook flying.

"Ms. Deluca," the teacher had intoned from over his glasses, "is everything all right?"

******

EARLIER THAT DAY....

Maria peered around the room in embarassment. "Um, yeah," she replied, forcing herself to look at the unhappy instructor in front of the blackboard. "Just a muscle spasm I guess."

She ignored the illicit giggles that circled the room at her expense as she retrieved her notebook and sank down in her chair. She couldn't possibly concentrate on the lecture now.

Maria could feel Michael's eyes burning into her cheek from where he sat beside her across the aisle, but she didn't look at him. //I'm late,// she sent him mentally.

Maria felt his gaze shift away, back to the lecture. //Late for what?// he asked.

She couldn't resist a mental chuckle at his ineptitude, despite the situation. //Not FOR anything, numbskull,// she told him. //I mean I'm LATE.//

There was brief pause, and then she felt him shift. Daring a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move in his chair, suddenly staring in wide-eyed disbelief at his empty notebook. //Are you sure?// he asked.

She resisted the urge to nod, and began instead to doodle in her notebook. //I think so.//

//You THINK so?// he sent back. //What do you mean you THINK so? How can you not be sure?//

The line she was drawing got darker as she pressed the pencil lead harder into the lined paper. //I'm NOT sure, okay?// she threw back at him. //I've never exactly been little Miss Set-your-clock-by-my-period, all right? I vary.// She seethed quietly, letting him make the next move.

Michael's response was satisfyingly apologetic. //All right,// he replied after a short time. //I'm sorry.// He paused. //You've been under a lot of stress lately,// he added. //Maybe...maybe that's why.//

Maria let the pencil she was holding drop glumly to the notebook as she crossed her arms over her stomach and stared at the picture she had drawn-- a stork. //Yeah, maybe,// she answered.

He didn't say anything for a long time, so Maria was sure the conversation had drawn to a close. Until he piped up again.

//Maria?//

She quirked an eyebrow, still staring at the long-necked bird adorning her notes. //Yeah?//

She could feel Michael's insecurity as he asked, //Do you see this as a good thing or a bad thing?//

Maria turned her head to look at him then, and found his eyes already focused on her. Unconciously, she reached across the aisle and took his hand loosely in her own. //I don't know, spaceboy,// she replied honestly, giving him a wan smile. //I really don't know.//

******

BACK TO PRESENT.....

And she didn't.

Sitting here, next to him, eyes fixated on the turning wheel of the clicking, ticking egg timer, and she STILL didn't know if she was ready for the results, whatever those might be.

Needless to say, Liz and the others had been more than a little shocked when she'd talked to them that day at lunch about what was going on. At the sheer mention of a pregnancy test, they had all paled.

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Isabelle had asked.

******

EARLIER THAT DAY...

Maria shrugged. "I...don't think we have any other choice," she murmured. "Unless I go to the doctor--"

"No!" Max interjected. All eyes turned on him, and he blushed. "It's just...let's not involve any medical personnel in this until it's necessary, all right?"

Maria nodded at that, and she felt Michael's arm tighten around her waist. "Okay," she said. "No doctors. Not until we know for sure." Her gaze raised to the worried eyes of her friends. "So," she continued, "who's going to come with me to the drug store?"

******

BACK TO PRESENT....

Michael had gone, of course. He went anywhere she did.

Maria dared a look at him now. His profile was still, unreadable. She had no idea what was going on in his head, and that worried her. Their mental link seemed to be conciously controlled-- it wasn't initiated unless they wanted it so. And right now, neither was letting their thoughts leak out.

His eyes flicked to hers as he felt her gaze on him, and he quirked a smile. //You all right?// he asked.

Maria smiled back. //Fine,// she returned. //Just...scared.//

He squeezed her hand. //Don't be,// he assured her. //It'll be all right. Whatever happens, it'll be all right. I promise.//

She tightened the weave of her fingers through his, and looked away. It was enough to know that he cared. This time, HIS optimism would carry them both.

Maria had no idea what to be feeling. She was both scared and blitheringly happy, no matter which side she looked at. If she wasn't pregnant, she could handle that. She would be glad-- it wasn't her ideal in life to become a statistic at only sixteen. Just another teen mom.

But at the same time, the thought of this missed oppurtunity terrified her. What would Michael think? Would his feelings for her change after this? Maybe he didn't like the way she was reacting to the situation. Or maybe he wanted children, and the lack thereof would take him away from her. Maria didn't think she could bear that. Part of her knew the argument was silly-- Michael would always love her.

But the rest of her just couldn't be sure. And the fear grew.

Then there was the other side. Pregnancy. Motherhood. It was frightening-- an entire life, growing inside her, needing her. She would be its lifesource, its home, for nine months, and then eighteen years or more after that. A young life, totally and in every way dependent on her. It scared her more than she could express.

But at the same time, it made her glow. That life was part of her-- something she had crafted with Michael. His artistic soul melded with hers to sculpt something inside her, out of precious spirals of DNA. The image was beautiful. Well and truly, they were one. And she wanted that-- almost more than anything in the world.

Of course, that would be if she were pregnant. And that was far from determined right now.

//Oh, forget it!// she screamed at herself. There was no deciding it. One way or the other, she would be both terrified and elated. That was that. She'd just have to resign herself to the fact and move on with life.

Her eyes went back to the egg timer, and she jumped a little. Fifteen seconds left. She hadn't realized so much time had gone by. Where had sixteen years disappeared to?

She watched the last ten seconds tick by, but the ring of the timer as it drew to an end still made her jump. This was it. Judgement day.

Disentangling her fingers from Michael's, Maria stood slowly, acutely aware that everyone's breathing had stopped, and the room was deathly quiet. She smoothed her skirt delicately, trying to maintain her poise. It was not a simple task.

//Do you want me to come?//

She looked back over her shoulder at Michael, and smiled. //Let me do this myself,// she sent back lovingly. //I want to see it first.//

He smiled back at her. //I'm here if you need me,// he assured her.

Maria nodded. //I know.//

Turning, she straightened her shoulders and made her way out the door, heading in a wavering line for the bathroom.

******

Michael watched her go, his mouth dry.

God, what was going to happen?

He buried his fingers in his hair, bending his head forward until his chin almost touched his chest-- his thinking posture. Thought had gone right out the window that morning in history, but he could still fake it like the best of them.

Michael wasn't about to lie to himself. If Maria wasn't pregnant, he would be hurt. Partly, his pride would be wounded, but that wasn't even the full extent of it. When she'd spoken to his mind that morning, told him her suspicion, part of him he'd never known existed woke up and blinked at the newly formed day. The nurturing, loving side of him that had hidden for years beneath a thin veneer of callous apathy. The nurturing, loving side of him that had only just begun to germinate when he'd met Maria-- that had begun to flower the first time he'd felt her warm body beside his. It made him want to protect her-- and now, the life that might be growing inside her. And he didn't want to watch that newly formed part of himself stunt its own growth.

//But what about Maria?// She was the one who would have to carry the child for nine months-- give or take. As far as he knew, no human had ever carried an alien's baby, tabloid stories not included. Gestation periods were far from determined.

//That doesn't matter,// he scolded himself. //The principle matters.// She would have to carry the child. She would have to endure the looks, the snickers, the jokes behind her back. The disapproving frown her mother would give her. Michael wasn't looking forward to that either. He'd met Amy Deluca enough times to know you didn't want to be on her bad side.

At the same time, he was sure Maria wanted this baby, too. If she wasn't pregnant, he was almost positive she would be saddened. But he couldn't be sure. Nothing seemed very sure anymore.

If she wasn't pregnant, he would hurt for himself. If she was, he would hurt for her. Either way, he was going to hurt. So he might as well admit to the fact and move on with life.

Looking up, Michael stared out the door of the bedroom, as if the corridor could provide him with every answer he needed. Reaching out with feather soft mental fingertips, he brushed his mind across hers, trying to get a feel for her emotions without invading her privacy.

He felt the familiar thrum of power build in his stomach, and he fought it down. Apparently this little mental hookup he had with Maria had freed up some part of his powers that had lain dormant for a long time. At least, that was how Izzy had explained it to him, though she'd used bigger words and more vivid imagery. While he found it incredibly cool that he could now blow things up-- something Maria consistenly frowned on-- he still had control issues. Keeping the energy inside when he felt it begin was a constant struggle. Especially when he did something like this-- a simple mental touch to gauge emotion.

But feelings were fuzzy in the real world-- in the dreamscape, they were clear. Michael couldn't work his way through the jumble-- there was fear, and relief, and happiness, and sadness. Everything and nothing-- an inconclusive mass of every emotion under his native sky. He sighed and gave up, letting his head hang again.

When she came into the room a minute later, his was the first head to snap up.

She appeared drained and shaky, as though she'd just undergone a marathon. The look on her face was enigmatic, ambiguous-- it could have meant anything.

******

"Well?" Isabelle posed the question, but Maria kept her eyes on Michael. "What's the verdict?"

Maria held the white stick loosely in her right hand. She knew the results-- they didn't need to be read again. Extending her hand, she held it out to Michael. "Want to see for yourself?" she asked softly.

He looked surprised for a moment, but eventually he reached out and plucked the test from her fingers. She let it go easily.

Michael's eyebrows puckered as he looked at the result. Did he mind? Did he understand? Her mind roiled with fears and confused terrors. Maybe he'd just leave her-- maybe this wasn't what he wanted.

When his eyes met hers, he wore an unsure look. "Are you okay with this?" he asked.

The door was open. She could walk through or slam it in his face.

Taking a deep breath, Maria nodded. "Yeah," she said, taking a shuddering breath. "Yeah, I am."

Michael stood then, and she met him halfway as their arms twined around each other. "It'll be all right, blondie," he whispered into her hair, and she smiled at his affectionate term for her. "Who knows what the future is going to hold, right?"

She nodded against him. "Yeah," she murmured.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Isabelle moaned from the corner of the room. "Would you just tell us the results already?"

Maria looked up from Michael's chest to see Max, Isabelle and Liz all leaning forward from their positions around the room, eager for her answer. She grinned and pulled the test from Michael's hand. "Why don't you see for yourself?" she told them, holding it out for Liz, who took it quickly.

Maria turned away, her attention focusing back on Michael's sculptured face. "So, what do you think, spaceboy?" she murmured.

He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her long and hard.

Maria let her arms slip up around his neck as the scent and taste of him drowned out the jibbering talk of the other three teens in the room. Terror and elation-- that was what she felt, just as she'd expected. Terror and elation. But that was to be expected.

After all, wasn't that what motherhood was all about?

The End