He was waiting when she came out of the diner. Sitting on her car, looking haggard and broken down, hands fidgeting nervously. She stopped short, feeling her body stiffen in response to the sight before her. He looked up, and she fell back a step. His eyes had a way of penetrating down to her very soul, making her feel what he was feeling. This time, there was no lust, no desire, no exhilaration, only sorrow.

Walking around the car, she unlocked the door and listened to him slide off the hood as she opened her own. Without looking at him, she threw her bag in the backseat and slipped her seatbelt into place. After hearing the click of his, she turned the key and pulled out.

"Maria."

"Don't... just don't say anything."

Staring straight ahead, she still didn't make any real acknowledgment of his presence, and he easily gave in to her request for silence. It was the least he could do.

"You don't have to lie about where you've been,
We both know you've been screaming..."

Just as the car hit her driveway, she cut the lights and crept towards the house. Reaching behind her, she grabbed her bag and got out of the car, careful not to slam the door. Following her lead, he treaded quietly across the small patch of grass in front of her house, and up the small set of stairs. She fumbled with her keys, finally finding the right one and opened the door. It pushed open without the usual resistance, the low hum of the air conditioner inviting them in. Stepping up, she left the door open and walked across the kitchen, unbuttoning her uniform. Watching her retreating form, he exhaled painfully.

"I, uh..." He stood in the middle of the doorframe, his hand grasping the knob tightly. Clearly, it was already feeling like a mistake - like he was somewhere he no longer had any right to be. He still wasn't even sure why he came to see her, and the last thing he expected was to be back in her house. There were enough reminders of her at the apartment to haunt him daily - it was too overwhelming to be in a place that was so completely and utterly her. Shifting his weight, he moved back a step.

She turned around and ran a hand through her hair. It was not a night to argue, to discuss, to run through the 'what-ifs' and the 'why-nots' - all those avenues had been exhausted long ago. Sighing, she tugged the headband off and tossed it on the table. The chill of the room hit her skin causing a flush of goosebumps to spread across her chest. Half the buttons had been undone and she knew that her bra was probably showing. But it didn't matter - that's not why he was here, and she was too damn tired, anyway.

Slowly, she walked over to him, sensing that he was on the verge of leaving. Tenderly raising a hand to caress his cheek, she watched as he closed his eyes, losing himself in her touch. The slight stubble was rough against her fingertips, and she could tell that he hadn't slept in days. His body retained the slight hunch from before and, even in the limited light, the dark circles were obvious. Wrenching his hand from the grip on the door, she pulled him in a bit and let it swing shut behind them.

"So why don't you give your little voice a rest,
Come on up inside my bed,
And just pretend you need me..."

He entered the bedroom behind her, and stayed near the door, leaning against her dresser. Across from him, she let the dress drop to the floor and unclasped her bra. The dim light on her bed stand was on, torturing him with the sight of her beauty. As she reached for a t-shirt on the bed, he watched with hopeless reverence. There was a time when his palms glided over those curves, his fingers gripping into her hips, tracing the invisible line from her breasts to her neck, entangling themselves in her hair. They would find the parts that were ticklish, parts that made her whimper, parts that made her groan. Never once did he tire of simply touching her, even making small excuses to reach out as she left each night. But not anymore - now they stayed firmly in his pockets, only to brush against random pieces of paper and a few coins.

Pulling on the shirt, she turned to face him. When she first saw him that night, she was not happy in the slightest. After the initial shock, she knew why he was there, and demanded no explanation for his sudden appearance. It wasn't with joy that she let him in the car, and it wasn't relief either. If anything, it was just to pretend that, for the moment, nothing had changed, and they were back in a place where no words were necessary.

But she was glad that he stayed, feeling a contented warmth at the sight of him in her room. She remembered the first time he came to her - in a situation not quite unlike this one. It was the first night she saw him let his walls down, the first night he let her hold him, the first night he told her he loved her. Not that he actually said anything, from the downpour to her bed, he didn't utter a sound. Even his sobs were silent, muted from years of abuse. She held him as his shoulders shuddered in desperate pain, and whispered the words he couldn't say.

"You don't have to lie about what you know,
We both know you've been suffering,
And I don't need to be your only one,
I don't need your comforting,
I just need you with me..."

Taking his hand, she once again led him to her bed. He crawled under the covers and waited for her to join him. As she slid in, he rolled over and buried his face in the hollow of her throat. Hot tears spilled down her chest, soaking her shirt, and she wrapped a leg around his waist, stroking her fingers through his hair. Her other hand rubbed his back, every limb trying to surround him in a cocoon of peaceful tranquility. Once again, no words were necessary. He didn't offer an explanation, and she didn't ask for one. Their strength had always been in the quiet moments, played out against the backdrop of emotional outbursts. She kissed the top of his head, and he let out a small, muffled sob. Resting back against the pillows, she closed her eyes and remembered the moment it all changed.

*~*

"Maybe I love you too much..." He snapped at her, and with those words he threw the stone wall back up.

She had watched in awe as he walked away, and it was another two weeks until she saw him again. The Crash Down - he finally showed up for work. Actually, he hadn't really missed any days, but through some serendipitous turn of events, they hadn't been scheduled together at all. She was cleaning out the coffee brewer when he called out that an order was done, and his voice made her jump. One minute it was José yelling for her attention, the next it was him - his eyes vacant and tone level. It was him, alright, but not the one she knew, not the one that was hers.

Closing up, they barely spoke to one another - battle lines drawn between the kitchen and the dining area. Neither had ever moved so quickly - desperately determined to get out of the same breathing space as soon as possible. She had resigned herself to being the one to close up, and was waiting for him to make some quick comment before slipping out the door. Instead, he surprised her, as well as himself, by sitting on one of the stools at the counter.

"Uh, um..."

"You with her?" She refused to look at him, instead concentrating on the clean silverware she'd been sorting.

"Kinda. Sorta, I don't know." He saw her bite down hard on her lip. "It's just this, this destiny thing... I mean, we figured that we kind of had to try to work it out..."

Her hands were shaking, so she dropped the rest of the forks into drawer and held onto the counter for support. She took a deep breath, then met his eyes. "Still love me?"

"Maria," he pleaded. His hand moved to take hers, but then jerked away.

She watched the sudden movement, then gritted her teeth angrily. "Forget it, I've got my answer." Without another word, she stomped into the back room. He waited a while to see if she'd come out, but after twenty minutes he realized that it wasn't going to happen. For another ten, he stood at the door, helplessly listening for some sort of call from her, something to give him the invitation that he so desperately wanted. But the whole diner was deathly silent - as if she walked out of the room, and out of his life.

The rest of the summer, she made sure that they were never on the same shift together. Taking her lead, he always arrived late or left a few minutes early on their overlapping days - thus giving them less chance to run into each other. But it still happened occasionally, normally when they were out with varying friends. She perfected the art of silent civility, and he learned how to look without seeing.

For over two months, they managed to remain polar opposites in the tiny orbit of Roswell - content in their longing misery. She had figured they had two more weeks of relative peace until school started again, and she'd be forced to see him with her every day. But apparently the universe had other plans, and not only was he back in her arms, but he was back in her bed.

"Stay, stay, stay with me,
Stay, stay with me... stay,
And don't you ever run away from me,
Stay, stay with me..."

It hurt - with the most unbearably aching pain - to have him there. And at the same time, there was nowhere else she'd rather be. He had reached up behind her back and held onto her shoulders for dear life. She hadn't moved, still enveloping his body with her own. Not even when he stopped crying and pressed his lips against her neck. Not even when he slid one hand down her side, and back up to cup her breast. Not even when he rolled her over onto her back and stared down at her. She didn't move - she couldn't move. Because, if she moved, it all might change again, and she'd just been getting used to the pain.

"It's not like this, you know..." He whispered. "It could never be like this."

She wasn't really sure what he meant, and her confusion only grew when he shifted and sat beside her. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her, the tips of his fingers lightly grazing over her features. She closed her eyes, forgetting about her anger and his betrayal, and just drowned in the pleasure of being near him.

"Well, and if she ever lets you down,
After she's run out of your money,
Well then crawl on back to me..."

"Why are you here?" she choked, frustrated at the way her voice broke. In her fantasies, when he came back to her, she was ten times the standoffish ass he could ever be, and verbally slammed him into the ground without effort. Even though things had softened in the past hour or so, she wasn't about to let him get away with everything he'd done.

He moved his hand away from her cheek and rested it on her stomach. "I needed to see you."

"Why?"

"I, I don't know... what do you want me to say?" Pulling his hand away, he rolled onto his back.

"I want you to tell me the truth." Her voice was steady in the darkness.

"The truth? The truth..." He sighed, exasperated. "The truth is that, I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. I needed to be near you, and hold you, and touch you, and... I needed you. I need you."

She simply stared at the tiny glowing stickers on her ceiling. His words, in some ways, were the ones she'd been waiting to hear for a long time. And while she knew he was being honest, her heart was not filled with the joy she'd always associated with the potential declaration.

"I'm the one that sets you free,
And I'm the one that needs you..."

"You won't stay."

He curled up around her, placing his head on her breast. "I can't. You know that."

She didn't move to embrace him this time. "Because of me? Because of her? Because of destiny?" The heavy sarcasm filled the room.

"Because of you, because of her, because of everything. Because I don't know what destiny is, because I don't know how I'm supposed to save a planet when I can't even fix a car, because I..."

"Because you, what?"

He arched up and took her face in his hands. "Because I can't control myself, and I certainly can't control myself around you... Because I'd rather be miserable without you than live knowing that I harmed you... Because no one in this world makes me feel the way you do, and..."

"Michael..." Cutting him off, she pulled him down to her lips. They were softer than she remembered, his kisses shy and nervous. Her hands wrapped themselves in his hair, and she sighed as his palms slid under her back. He kept himself hovering above her slightly, gently placing small kisses across her cheeks, on her nose and eyelids. Mewling, she held him to her and sought out his lips once again. She could taste the salt of their shared tears, filled with the mirrored agony and longing between them.

"And if she ever lets you go,
We both know what you're needing,
And if you need somewhere to rest,
Somewhere to lay your head,
You'll know just where to find me..."

The next morning, she slid out of bed without waking him. Before leaving her room, she paused for a moment, watching him sleep. He looked so young and innocent, with only the vaguest hint of the horrors he'd known. Once upon a time, she knew of those horrors, and the pleasures as well. Once upon a time, that boy of contradictions and conflictions was hers.

In the shower, memories of the night before washed over her. It was something she wanted to both forget and relive endlessly. The wounds had just begun to heal, and had been ripped open all over again. She knew he would go back to someone who wasn't her, someone who couldn't be her, and most importantly, someone who he didn't need like he needed her.

She turned off the shower, and the stream of water stopped more abruptly than usual. No lingering droplets of warm water to trickle down her back, reminding her of the relaxed state she was just in. Like the universe was conspiring to cut her off from everything that gave her comfort all at once. She stepped out and began to towel off her hair, thinking of the boy in her bed. If he was still in her bed. It really wouldn't have surprised her if she got back and he was gone.

But she still had last night - in all its gore and glory. Even though he was leaving, she knew he still loved her. Not that she ever doubted it, but there was something consoling in having him say it. Not that he actually said it, but like that first night in her bed, words weren't necessary. She could feel it all, and in her arms, he silently told her of everything in his heart. All her work to get over him was undone. All his work to distance himself was destroyed. Soon, he would leave, and leave them both in a state of wretched heartache. In time, wounds would heal again.

"Stay, stay, stay with me,
Stay, stay, stay with me... stay,
And don't you ever run away from me,
Stay, stay with me..."

The door opened to an empty bed. She leaned against the frame and stared at where her love had just been. Only the bed - still rumpled, blankets nearly off - was physical proof of the night before. Letting the towels drop, she stretched out across the bed and inhaled deeply. The scent of their union still permeated the sheets. She wasn't angry, or even upset. And she didn't second-guess herself, or feel guilty. No matter what he was, or who he was before - here, on this plane, he was hers. He would always be hers.

*~*

Closing her locker, she turned and adjusted her headband before fastening the last few buttons. Looking up, she jumped back in shock - seeing the boy at the grill. He shot a quick glance at her, suddenly nervous as she walked closer.

"I didn't know you were working."

"Mr. Parker called, asked if I could cover a shift."

"Oh."

Before either of them could say another word, someone rang in another order and he turned to put something up at the window. She went out and began to take up the slack of what had quickly become a busy dining room. What would usually be fodder for much complaining was a godsend to them both - a night with nonstop customers and no possible break time. Occasionally, one would catch the other in a sidelong glance across the room - and a soft, secret smile would be shared before going back to work.

The last person was out well after closing time, and as she locked the door behind them, her feet let all the stored-up pain come rushing in. More than half the place had already been cleaned, so she allowed herself a few minutes of rest. Sliding into one of the booths, she closed her eyes and stuck her feet up on the opposite seat. Just as she was about to fall into a deeper state of relaxation, she was jerked back into reality by the sound of wood scraping against wood.

He was putting the chairs up on the tables, slowly making his way over to her. Standing at the edge of the booth, he waited for a sign from her - finally sitting down when she moved her legs. He, too, felt his body collapse from exhaustion, and easily fell into the seat across from her. Together they took in the rare silence of the diner, appreciating the fact that they would soon go home and sleep.

One of her feet twitched, and instinctively he began to massage it. She sat up straight, looking at him strangely, but didn't pull away. He caught her reaction and stopped, first running his hand the length of her calf.

"About last night..."

"It's okay." She shook her head, not really wanting to get into a discussion.

"Well, at least this morning, I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay," she repeated sincerely.

"No, it's not. It's not okay - it hasn't been okay, and it's not going to be okay," he stammered, frustrated at their situation.

"Michael."

"Maria."

Biting her lip, she reached over for the bottle of tobasco and began to bat it between her hands. "When I told you that I'd been waiting for this all my life..." She paused, "I didn't just mean our relationship. I meant this - this feeling, this feeling that I kept hearing about and never thought that I'd get to feel for my own. But everything I heard, all the stories, all the romance novels, it didn't prepare me for what it's really like. Maybe I'm just young and stupid, maybe I've watched a few too many John Hughes movies, but this has got to be more than some silly high school relationship." Her head still hung low, she glanced up, then back down to the table.

He grabbed the bottle from her, taking one of her hands in his in the process. "I..." Squeezing her hand, he rubbed his thumb over her wrist. "I can't promise you tomorrow."

"I know," she whispered hoarsely. Looking up at him, she offered a small smile. "And that's why I don't want today."

"tear out all the headlines
emptyin' the ashtrays,
sweep out the anyway of what's left of our time..."

Pulling her feet down, she slipped off the seat and started towards the counter. Halfway there, his hands gripped her shoulders, clutching her to his chest. She rolled her head back into him, her eyes clenched shut as his breath caressed her ear.

"From the moment I... stole you," he caught his breath, "I have never left you." Burying his face in her hair, he leaned forward and kissed her temple.

"I know," she choked, a harsh shudder trembled through her body.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, knowing that soon they would have to separate and he'd lose the only warmth he'd ever known. They stood there in the middle of an empty diner, frozen. Frozen in their inability to be together, in their inability to be apart.

"well, you can use my body,
to do what you have to,
but stay a little longer,
stay with me..."