Author: heavenly-vixen aka Ally
Email: team_x_4eva@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Michael can own any part of me he desires.
Description: MM – An Outsider looking in on Michael and Maria’s relationship gets jealous.
Author’s Note: Bear with it, it’s a little strange as it’s the inner workings of someone’s mind. Have your thoughts ever had order as they swirl around the recesses of your mind? Mine haven’t and I wanted to capture that. So this may stray a little and seem a little kooky but I promise it does get to the point. LIZ FANS BEWARE; you may not like this. Its not an anti-Liz fic it just doesn’t portray her in a very nice light.
Acknowledgements: Thank you so much to Sarah for being a truly fantastic Beta. Love your work! : )

As I stand here watching them I’m envious. I know I am. I can admit it to myself, but never to anyone else. They don’t know I’m watching them, they think no one can see, but I do. He has his arm around her shoulders as she leans against him, her back to his chest. Alone in that booth he makes her smile. I wonder what he whispered in her ear to make her smile like that. I shouldn’t be watching, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I’ve known her since we were kids, and I’ve never seen her smile like that. I’ve never seen her truly happy, so why aren’t I happy for her? Why do I hate her for her happiness? Why do I not hate him for causing it? Only her?

My eyes are glued to them as I stalk them from the kitchen. He takes her hand in his and kisses the inside of her wrist with tenderness I never thought him possible of possessing. No one ever sees this, this side of them. They keep it hidden, a private life for no one to see. As soon as anyone makes their presence known they’ll pull apart slightly and the tenderness will dull. I don’t know why, I’d want the world to know that someone was that tender with me, that gentle, that… loving. Everyone thinks I have that; I make everyone believe I have that. While they have everyone believing the only thing they possess is passion. They do have that, in spades, but it’s not just that. There is something between them too deep for others to see, too deep for me to see, although I’ve been getting glimpses of it for a couple of weeks now.

Ever since I heard them 2 weeks ago at his apartment, their passion taking over, their bodies in a dance that I’m afraid of, I’ve noticed. I can’t help but sit back, when they think no one is looking and just watch. A few days ago I went to see Maria, of course she was at his apartment, and as I walked past the window I couldn’t help but look in. They were alone, and they were actually playing. Maria was laughing happily, screaming sometimes as Michael chased her around the living room. He caught her and swung her up over his shoulder. She only laughed louder as she playfully rapped her fists against his back, feigning resistance. I should have smiled at the scene before my eyes, but I didn’t. I wanted to burst in there and pull them apart. Instead I walked away, never alerting them to my presence.

I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Standing in the wings, watching as a life I’ll most likely never know plays out in front of me. They return to the roles everyone knows, in the presence of others and a part of me wants to keep others away. Just so I can watch, so I can see what that life is like. But I don’t, the bigger part of me, the part that wins out, likes the roles we play. I like that I’m the happy one, perfect in every way, while Michael and Maria are the weird characters, the ones that no body notices at the back of the stage. It suits me fine to play in that theatre. It’s the real world that they live in that unnerves me.

I think I want to be happy for them, but I can’t. There are so many times that I’ve been watching, too many moments I have witnessed to think anything but that it was happening to the wrong people. The day after they gave into their hormones I saw them in the park. It was late afternoon so no one was around. I shouldn’t have even been there, but I was clearing my head and they were sitting on a blanket near a flower bush. Maria was reclining in his arms, Michael rested his chin atop her head and he had his arms wrapped around her waist, his hands gently stroking the flesh of her abdomen. They were completely comfortable with each other. They didn’t have to talk; they could just be, free. I asked Maria once,

“Do you guys ever talk, or do you just like make out?” What I didn’t realize then was that they didn’t do either of those things all the time. They could just hold each other and never have to say a word to know exactly how the other felt. They could have fun, and it be just that. They didn’t have to make everything into a life-altering thing. Everything Michael does, he does it for her. Even when it hurts them both more than they can bear, he tries so hard to protect her. No matter what happens Michael can take her pain away. I’ve seen the pain melt away in the safety, security and strength of his arms, the arms of a soldier, the arms of a leader, and the arms of a man in love.

I remember the sound of Michael’s voice the first time I ever heard him whisper that he loved her. It’s always in a whisper, like its something so beautiful yet so fragile that he doesn’t dare utter it louder. He loves her… and when tells her it’s filled with more conviction than I’ve ever heard anyone possess. He picks his moments to confess this deep love very carefully. I don’t know how many times he’s told her, but they are few, yet with his actions he’s never stopped telling her. Love, it means more proclaimed from a mouth that fears the word than a voice that welcomes it. That’s all I’ve ever known. A love uttered by a mouth that has said it too many times to hold such conviction. She never noticed the love that coursed through his body reserved only for her; at least I thought she didn’t. How special it must be to hold the heart of someone that kept it so hidden, so protected. His love… is only for her. How must it feel to be the only person that someone loves? Once I never would have thought he was capable of it, but he proved us all wrong and she was lucky enough to be the object of such love.

I don’t think I will ever experience a love like that. I know that Max loves me, but he will never love me the way Michael loves her. You see we weren’t destined. We weren’t even fated. Max defied the powers that be for a crush when he saved me. Michael and Maria would have found each other eventually, they are fated. His eyes will never wander, Max’s have. His love will never faultier, Max’s has. His heart will always be true, will Max’s? I can see in to his mind but not his heart. Maria though, she can see every part of Michael and they don’t even have to say a word. He can wrap his arms around her, kiss her softly, hold her hand, or look into her eyes and she can read his heart better than any words or visions could ever portray.

So I stand her and I watch as Maria looses herself in the kiss of the man she’s madly in love with, wishing that I could experience that kind of love, the love of two people who were always meant to be together, who share one heart, one soul. What really baffles and infuriates me though, is Michael. The way he is with her, the person he is when he’s alone with Maria is someone I always wanted for me. He becomes a completely different person, someone I’d like to know, but he won’t let anyone else meet this Michael. This Michael he reserves for Maria, a precious gift that I tried to not let her realize she’s been given. I know that I have and still do belittle their relationship. I know I change the subject to myself and I know that I’m being selfish. But a part of me, too strong to ignore, continues with this torture. I keep up this horrible sabotage, and I don’t feel guilty. Instead I stand in the shadows and watch. I watch a life I’ll never have, a love I’ll never experience, and tenderness I’ll never know. Why? Because this love is fated, mine was forced. It doesn’t matter what date it is, but I’m Liz Parker, and I’m jealous of Maria DeLuca.

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