-Simon and Garfunkel "Bridge Over Troubled Water"

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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?"

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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.//

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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.

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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?"

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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

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