By Joy
E-mail: jbuchkow@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary (sorta): The third story in the No Difference backstory series, Maria POV as always
December 26, 2000
My very own Christmas angel, clad in sweats and blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, answers my frantic pounding at his door.
"Hey," he starts to greet me, but his sleepy frown turns to puzzlement, then concern, as he takes in my appearance. I know I look like hell, and I certainly feel like it. I am barely able to breathe, which is a result of a combination of my flight over here and my sobs, which I can't seem to control. Without another word I am engulfed in his arms, and I cling to him like I am drowning.
He half-carries me to the couch, and settles me on it as gently as a baby. The room is quite dark, barely illuminated by the streetlights shining through at the edge of the sheet he has draped over the window. I am grateful for this covering of shadows; I feel safe from reality now, cocooned amidst his embrace and his pile of blankets. He doesn't speak, but merely holds me close, tucked under his chin, stroking my back, smoothing the tear-soaked hair from my face. This reminds me of a time late last winter, when our positions were reversed, and he lay in my bed while I soothed him to sleep. So much has happened since
then, things which I would not have thought possible before Liz told me the truth about her gunshot wound, things which I never would've thought I'd survive. I did, though. We all did; and we have all grown closer as a consequence. Which is why I've ran here tonight, and how I know I can find comfort here with him.
I take a deep, shaky breath, and finally look him in the face again, blinking the tears away. He gives me a small, reassuring smile, and keeps his silence, though his concerned impatience is barely concealed. I'm not quite sure where to begin, as my thoughts are still a morass of surprise, betrayal, anger, and fear. I start with a small, grateful smile in return, and he looks a little less panicked now.
"Sorry to wake you up," I indicate his dark apartment, the rumpled couch. He shakes his head.
"No, it's alright," he trails off as he waits for me to continue. I nod, and take a sudden interest in his shoulder, which I now realize is bare. I must be starting to feel a little better, for his lack of shirt gives me a moment's startled pause. Another deep breath, cleansing the last of the sobs from my body, and focusing me away from his.
"Mom had Valenti and Kyle over for dinner tonight," my voice grows stronger as I actually get closer to saying the words. "She made this casserole with our leftover turkey and stuffing from last night, and a fresh cream pie. I don't think I want to see another turkey again, let alone eat it." I realize that I am starting to babble, though for once he doesn't seem to mind. He is a little less tense now, and I almost smack myself for not reassuring him first that none of us was actually hurt or something. At least not physically.
"So, I guess having some for a midnight snack is out of the question?" He gently teases me, testing the tension around me, giving me a chance to refocus yet again. I poke his shoulder, the one I've been staring at so that I don't have to look at him. Now, however, I do.
"Michael, my mom and Valenti are going to get married." He takes it better than me, his jaw dropping just slightly before he recovers. I can see him mentally trace back through the past year that he has actually known my mother, trying to remember any possible indicators, much as I had done at the dinner table earlier that evening. I have been so focused on our group that I have neglected to focus on my family, small as it is. Now, it is about to double in size, as I gain not only a step-father, but also a step-brother who is just as unwilling to go through with this as I am. My voice starts to tremble again, "She didn't say anything to me until they announced it at dinner. She didn't even ask me how I felt about it! They're talking about getting a larger house, moving us away from my home!" My home that used to seem so lonely when she would be gone, that now seemed perfect since my window became a gateway to his soul.
"I'm sorry, Maria." He rarely says my name, and this time I so need to hear it. I tuck myself back under his chin, my hair catching on the stubble starting to form there. It could have been worse, I try to reassure myself. It could've been some creep like she used to date when I was younger, instead of our new-found protector. I am still wary of the Sheriff, though, despite all that has happened. Wary, and a trifle scared, for the memories of being hounded and interrogated by him before he knew, and for having the power to steal my mother's heart.
"Can I stay?" My voice is muffled in the hollow of his throat, and I feel goosebumps raise beneath my lips as I silently pray that he won't push me away yet.
"Anytime," he breathes into my hair before setting a soft kiss atop my head. I can almost forget reality as he pulls me down with him and snugs the blankets around us to guard against the chill that creeps under the door and around the window sill. I entwine my feet with his, and lose a little more reality in a thank-you kiss I set beside his mouth. The steady beat of his heart under my ear lulls me closer and closer to sleep, and I give in, shutting out the remnants of my world for at least one night.
The End