Why don't you look at me? Why don't you see me? Why don't you love me? Why can't I let go?

The topper was when she found she'd forgotten her textbook in her locker. The halls were deserted when she let herself back in. A nice little way of saying she used her powers yet again to break the law. Oh well. Isabel Evans and her life of crime. A wry smile formed at the corners of her mouth. Well at least it was one of the lesser crimes she'd committed with them she thought as she turned to leave once again.

That's when she heard it. "Whattcha smilin for sweetness?" came a voice from the end of the corridor.

Her head jerked up at the sound of the voice. It was unmistakable. It was Rath. And there he was, the bastardization of Michael. Leaning against the lockers, smirk on face, thumbs hooked in jeans' pockets, eyebrow raised in question. Great. All she needed was a not-quite Michael to make her not-near perfect day even less perfect.

"What are you doing here?" she asked picking up her pace as she neared, determined not to show how bothered she was at his presence, determined to get by him and to the door without incident. "Do Michael and Max know you guys are back in town?"

He slowly righted himself to block her way. Sturdy frame seeming to fill the hall that now seemed too small and cramped for the both of them. And he took his time replying, instead fixing his gaze on her while his smile widened. She stopped in front of him. Staring back with what she hoped was a disapproving air.

"Naw, they don't know. Besides, sweetness, it's not YOU GUYS here," he finally replied.

"Oh really. It's not." she stated more than asked. Not willing to show she cared enough to ask.

"Yeah, its one guy. Me. I'm the only one here. And believe me I ain't here to see Maxie or that less-handsome version of myself," he said with a low chuckle, slowly moving forward until they were mere inches apart. Now only separated by her arms wrapped tightly around her textbook.

"Whattcha got there sweetness?" he asked, staring down now at the combination of cleavage, book and arms, making it all too clear he didn't mean what she was holding.

Heat radiated through her from a mixture of anger and embarrassment and something else more primal she refused to admit. And she was confused at what she felt. Why in the good world would she let this guy...no creep...effect her? And why did she care if he leered. It wasn't the first time some man had stared at her chest. Wasn't the first time someone had made a pass at her. Normally she just turned on the ice and strode on by. Leaving men and boys frozen in her path.

But this time it was Isabel who couldn't move. Wouldn't move. If her life depended on it. For reasons she wasn't ready to explore.

His gaze rose back to hers questioning her silence. All the while taking note of her now-shallow breathing and dilating pupils. There wasn't much that ever got past Rath no matter how he let himself come across to people. And it didn't take a genius to see he was accomplishing what he'd only hoped with the woman who looked like his lover.

He closed the small gap between them until his nipples grazed her arm. Slowly and deliberately rubbing them through tight T-shirt across her skin. Causing her to exhale sharply on contact before her tongue crept out to moisten her lips. And she hated herself. For being weak. For showing what she was feeling. Because he saw. And he knew.

"It's okay sweetness," is all he said, grinning at her wordless admission. "We all need ya know?"

Before she could stop herself she nodded and dropped the book to the floor. She stayed still that way with her arms now to her side. Needing him to make the first move. Needing him to take control of the out-of-control situation.

And he did. Reaching out to run his thumb over her lips as her eyes fluttered shut. Not touching her anywhere else with anything else. Just rough skin over smooth. Back and forth. Softly. Until she could stand it no more and inched her tongue out to return the touch.

It was his turn to exhale. "Oh yeah baby girl...we've had this dance coming...we've had this dance coming for a long time," he said as he joined his mouth with hers. Kissing her roughly as he held her face in his large callused hands.

It was a loveless kiss. Hard. Passionate. Full of lust. Full of anger. And their hands were equally as forceful. Rath pushed Isabel back to lean against the lockers while he groped her breasts through her blouse. Then he snaked his hands behind her to undo her bra while her hands felt between them to unzip his fly and to let free the erection already straining against the crotch of his jeans.

Their mouths rarely lost contact. Each fearing that any break would cause the other to stop or question what was happening. What they were doing. To each other. For each other.

She'd barely gotten her own jeans unzipped before he pushed them and her panties off in one fluid motion to pool on the floor around her feet.

She was startled at the sound of the condom wrapper.

"A dude's always gotta be prepared sweetness," he whispered in her ear in reply. Hurriedly he covered her mouth with his. Sucking the air from her as he entered her.

"So I'm not the first," he said with a grin.

"Disappointed?" she asked in between gasps.

"Naw," he replied.

Their sex was uncoordinated and hurried. Each trying to find something for themselves in the rhythm of the other. Lockers banging with the force of their lust. She came first. His mouth locked on hers, muffling the cry. He came soon after into her now still body. Afterwards awkwardly kissing the hollow of her neck that was exposed as she turned her head away from him.

Slowly they gathered their discarded clothing. Not saying anything as they dressed. Not knowing what to say after what they had just done. The silence more necessary because of not knowing each other than from being uncomfortable.

Finally they stood facing each other again. Until she broke the silence.

"Why?" she asked.

He smirked then answered simply, "Lonnie and me...well we like to punish each other...let's leave it at that."

She nodded and waited. Wondering and fearing what would come next. How he'd ask or acknowledge her own reasons why.

"You could have called me Michael," he said in a low voice.

Her rage came quickly threatening to consume her. The slap vibrated down the hall. The force of her furry scaring her with it's intensity. And then she was shaking. And sobbing uncontrollably.

He grabbed a hold of her under he arms before she could reach the floor. Pulling her into an embrace. Stroking her hair as she fought against him. Pounding fists slowing and turning into clutching hands. Grasping his strong shoulders and back. A form so familiar. A face rendered HIS by tear-blurred eyes. Michael.

And it was Michael who was holding her. For that brief moment in time. And she clung to him. Letting herself believe it was him. Letting herself feel what it would be like to be held by him.

And for that she said, "Thank you."

Then let go, picked up her book and walked to the door.