He remembered the first time he saw her.

It wasn't in a classroom, or at a playground.

He had seen her in a vision.

He had been walking along the dirt road, cold, naked, hungry. The two children he had seen previously had disappeared into a car and were now gone. And he was alone. It was an emotion, an atmosphere, that would surround him for the next six years of his life until someone could fill in the missing pieces.

But suddenly, his senses were on fire and he was jolted with images. Of a room filled with streams of sunlight and play-things. Of smiling dolls and miniature teacups. Of a blonde pixie dancing an imaginary waltz with her teddy bear, giggling as she swung it around. The giggles echoed his head, and they were his one comfort on that lonely road that stretched before him, seemingly endless.

Those were the first flashes Michael had ever had. And he had replayed those images repeatedly and clung to them with all his strength for the past few months, thinking they would keep him from dying inside.

Thinking they would maybe to keep her alive a little longer.

"How long does she have left?" Michael whispered the words hoarsely to Dr. Wickham, staring at the linoleum floor in hopes he could hold back all sense of emotion. There he was, twenty-eight years old, and Michael Guerin still refused to cry.

"A day. Two at the most," he heard the doctor answer. "We're giving your wife , so she'll be in as little pain as possible."

*********************************************

"Ready?" asked Liz, her eyes shining as her gaze settled upon the radiant reflection of her best friend in the mirror. She could barely make out the face of Isabel, who was standing behind Maria and fluffing her wedding veil to perfection, which seemed to shimmer magically in the sunlight that emerged from a small circular window in the dressing room.

"Ready," Maria grinned at the petite brunette's image, "is an understatement."

"Wait a second," Isabel said, waving her hand over a slight wrinkle in the material. "*Now* you're ready."

Liz and Maria moved down slightly so that Isabel could join them in front of the looking glass. They gazed at the reflection before them: the three standing together, each face glowing with an incandescent beauty and undeniable serenity, a sense of unity among them.

The corners of Isabel's mouth turned upward. "We're a couple of babes, aren't we?"

*********************************************

Isabel stared down at the picture the photographer had taken of her, Maria, and Liz at the wedding reception. It was her favorite photograph of the three of them. Their arms were wrapped around each other, genuine and carefree smiles on all of their faces. Isabel was rolling her eyes slightly, in her typical "This-is-*so*-lame-but-I'll-do-it-to-amuse-you" fashion, but a slight girl-like giddiness and excitement could be detected from her features.

"Bel?" she heard Alex say from behind her. Her heart warmed at the sound of his special nickname for her. Bel. Belle. Beauty.

She turned around and saw him standing in the doorway, gazing at her with concern, his mouth twisted into a worried frown. "I was going to order some Chinese. Did you want the shrimp chow mein again?"

Isabel shook her head as she placed the framed photo back on her night table "I'm not that hungry. But go ahead and get something for yourself."

Alex walked into the room and sat beside her on the bed, pulling her into an embrace. Her head instinctively rested against his chest, and her arms tightened around his waist. "You've got to eat something," Alex told her softly, his fingers intertwining with hers. "You have that shoot tomorrow."

"I don't think I'm going to go," she murmured.

"But it's Cosmopolitan," he reminded her. "You've been waiting for a Cosmo cover for years."

"There are more important things than a Cosmo cover," she replied despondently. Isabel pulled away slightly and looked up into Alex's eyes. Alex saw a fear, a desperation, in them. "I want to go home. Back to Roswell. I need to see them."

"Then we'll go," he told her, kissing her delicately on the forehead. "On the first flight we can book But get some rest first, 'kay?"

Isabel, content with his response, nestled back into his arms. As Alex began to rock her gently into sleep, he couldn't help but glance over at her night table, whose surface was crammed with one photo frame after another. Next to the infamous Three Bridesmaids shot sat a candid of Max and Michael. God, he worried about Michael. Maria was everything to him.

*********************************************

As Maria walked the rose petal-covered aisle before her, her eyes never left Michael's. They seemed to pull her to him with an unexplainable force. It was what kept her walk steady, it was what made her reason to want to share her life with his ever the more clear.

As she walked up the steps and placed her hand in his, she was overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu. She looked around her in bewildered astonishment, and Maria's eyes rested on him once again.

"Is it everything you saw in the flashes?" he whispered to her, his infamous half-grin gracing his face.

Maria looked at him, her mouth agape. The flashes. On her front porch. When he had brought her chicken soup...

"You... you saw them, too?" she asked him, stunned.

"I have to admit, you look more beautiful in person," he said in reply, his eyes twinkling.

Maria laughed softly, and shook her head in disbelief. She should have known. She glanced around her surroundings once again, and realized that each detail she had seen six years prior had come to life.

She turned back to him, smiling. "Last chance to back out," she said.

Michael shook his head. "Never," he answered, his smile becoming wider. "In for the long haul, remember?"

*********************************************

Liz had been staring at the television screen for the past hour.

It took her a little while longer to realize she hadn't even turned it on.

She sighed to herself and stood up from the couch, beginning to wander around Michael and Maria's house absent-mindedly. It was deadly quiet with Kara asleep. Liz smiled to herself as she gazed at a photo of the Guerins that was held under an Sesame Street kitchen magnet on the refrigerator; she definitely knew where the five-year-old had inherited her chatterbox qualities.

When the phone rang a few seconds later, she quickly grabbed the phone off its hook and softly said into it, "Hello?"

"Hey," she heard Max say on the other end of the line. She could practically see him in her mind, his tall, lanky body leaning against the wall next to the hospital phone as he talked to her.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey," Liz answered. "God, I needed to hear your voice right about now."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no, everything's fine," she insisted. "Kara's asleep, the house is quiet... just a little too quiet, you know?"

When he didn't respond, the little hairs on the back of her neck began to prick up and a familiar sense of paranoia overwhelmed her. "Is... is there something wrong with you?" Liz asked him, her hands beginning to shake.

"Max?"

She heard him exhale slowly, and she could feel her heart thud rapidly within her chest waiting for his response.

"She doesn't have much longer."

*********************************************

"If I have to look at *one* more china sample, I think I might have to commit justifiable homicide," Max admitted to Michael as they set the dining table for four, keeping his voice low enough so that Liz and Maria wouldn't be able to hear them from the kitchen. In a corner of the dining/family room, not far from the two men, one-year-old Kara Guerin was playing with her new toy truck, a gift from her father, who saw to it that she didn't play solely with some sissy Barbies.

"Why do you think I let Maria and Amy handle all the wedding preparations?" Michael replied with an amused expression on his face as he arranged the forks. Unbeknownst to the him and Max, Kara had pushed off her toy truck and shakily stood on her chubby legs to go retrieve it.

Max started to place the glasses to the right of the dishes. "I'm thinking I should try to persuade Liz into running off to Vegas."

"Aw, Maximillian, where's your sense of romance?"

"I'm romantic, I just think twenty white doves are a bit too--" Max stopped and his face took on a stunned expression when he noticed little Kara toddle unsteadily after her toy. "Michael!"

He looked up from his table-setting task. "What?"

Max, speechless, pointed at Kara, and Michael turned around to see his baby girl walking her first steps. "Holy..." he was about to curse, amazed at what he saw before him. Grinning uncontrollably, he called out, "Maria! Get the video camera!" *********************************************

Michael sat in a chair pushed up as closely next to Maria's hospital bed as possible. He leaned over her protectively, cradling her right arm, pressing his cheek against her soft hand. He watched as she took one slightly shaky breath after another, as her eyes fluttered about every now and then as if she were about to wake from her slumber. Michael took in every aspect of her, savoring each detail, each line of her face, trying desperately to store all of her into his permanent memory, even though she now looked her worst, her weakest.

His gaze started to move down her body and he found himself staring at the glittering diamond he had placed on her left ring finger six years prior, the one sign of life left on her frail body. If he had known what he knew now, he would have given her that ring much sooner. He would have given her everything sooner.

"Michael?"

Michael immediately focused his attention back to her. "Hey there," he said, smiling. He let his hand gently stroke her pallid cheek. "What do you need? You want some more water?"

"Just want ... to talk..." she softly murmured, her voice drowsy, her eyes desperately trying to stay open.

"You shouldn't be talking," he said, pulling the blankets more tightly around her. "You should be resting."

"Want to hear... your voice..."

Michael took one look into her entreating eyes and was a goner. If she wanted to hear his voice, then she would. "Okay..." he said unsurely. "What should I talk about?"

"Tell me about... what it's like..." She struggled with the last phrase. "...to die..."

Michael's heart skipped a beat, and he stared down at her ashen face, stunned and speechless.

"Please..." she pleaded with him, her eyes still imploring.

He fought to find the words that he wanted to avoid, that he did not want face. But how could he chase something that, for so long now, he had been trying to ignore?

And, suddenly, the words found him.

"'To die: to sleep...'" he began to say, his hand tightening around hers. "'...and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd'.'"

Her eyes slowly closed, and she gently squeezed his hand with what little strength she had left for him to continue.

Michael tried to remember the continuing lines. "'To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream...'" he recited, watching her ascend into another world.

His voice began to give when he felt her fingers loosen around his. "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause."

Her body was still.

Michael bent over and placed a soft kiss on her still warm lips. "Sweet dreams, Maria," he whispered to her.

And for the first time in his life, Michael Guerin let himself cry.

*********************************************

"I don't like boys," little Kara declared when her parents had asked her if she wanted to invite Benjamin from next door to her party. "Boys are icky."

"Yup, boys are icky, stay away from them," Michael said proudly, scooping some Rocky Road into her bowl.

Maria handed them spoons for their dessert. "And how, Mr. Guerin, do you expect her to date in ten years with that kind of attitude?"

"That's the plan," Michael replied.

Maria rolled her eyes at him as she sat down at the table. "You're impossible." She turned to her daughter. "I'll have you know that your daddy was once an icky boy, too."

"Yes, but you got over that," Michael quipped. "That does not mean that she has to."

"What are you going to do?" Maria said. "Lock her in the house and barbwire our fences when she starts to date?" Kara watched the two spar, entertained by another one of her parents teasing squabbles.

"If it comes to that..."

Maria shook her head. "You're impossible." But as she dug into her ice cream, Michael could detect the faint traces of a supressed smile. *********************************************

Michael opened the door to the house in a daze, as if he were walking in some sort of disillusioned dream. He didn't even remember how had he gotten there. Had he taken the car? No, a hospital volunteer had driven him. Or someone did. He wasn't sure. He didn't care. He felt so numb inside, like there was no life within him. It was just one heavy step after another.

He looked around confused, at the lived-in, comfortable furniture, the scattered toys and books, as if it were a stranger's home. In a sense it was; he had not left Maria's hospital bed for the past two weeks, after the doctors at the hospital had told them that there was no hope left.

Hopeless. It wasn't something that Michael was unfamiliar with.

He didn't know how long she had been standing there, watching him. But there Liz was, and he didn't even have to tell her what had happened. She knew the minute her eyes rested on his tormented face.

"When?" was the simple word that exited her mouth, her eyes beginning to moisten.

"An hour ago," he heard himself say in reply.

Liz nodded her head, trying to hold back the inevitable tears, practically choking. She silently moved past him and out the open door, without one word of good-bye. When it closed behind her, Michael could swear he could hear the sobs that escaped her on the other side.

Again not knowing how and when he had moved, he found himself kneeling beside his daughter's bed, watching her sleep. He needed to be near something that reminded him of Maria, that was a part of Maria. He needed to feel alive again, to feel complete.

He gazed down at Kara's peaceful sleeping form. At a cute button nose, at ringlets of gold, at rosy, chubby cheeks. She was the spitting image of a young Maria DeLuca. He just hoped that her Michael Guerin wasn't nearly as rebellious and arrogant as he was.

Michael smiled at this thought. As he watched the little cherubic beauty, Kara's eyes fluttered open and was suddenly staring into her father's eyes. "Daddy?" she said, yawning.

"Hi," Michael said, trying to take on a more cheerful disposition. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's okay," she told him, trying to sit up in her bed. She was now wide completely alert; it only took her a couple of seconds to fully awaken. "Auntie Liz made me take an extra nap today, so I'm not that sleepy. Did you see Mommy at the hospital today? Auntie Liz said that was where you were."

Michael could only nod his head. He opened his mouth to start talking, but quickly shut it again. He fingered the purple bedspread awkwardly, trying to form his words. "Remember..." he started. "...remember that little talk you, mommy, and me had the other day?"

"About heaven?" she asked, with tone so innocent and unknowing that it could only belong to a child.

"Yes, about heaven," Michael said, nodding his head again. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Mommy... she... she... um..." he stuttered.

"She went there today," she stated simply.

Michael looked at her, a little surprised. "Yes, she went there. How did you know that?"

"Mommy told me."

Michael did not respond immediately. "She told you," he repeated slowly after a few seconds of skeptical silence.

"Mm-hmm," Kara replied, her curls beginning to bounce around as she talked excitedly. "She came and talked to me before you came home. And she looked really pretty, Daddy. And she said that she was going to go, and that'd we'd meet her there later, and she gave me a hug and a kiss. The kiss was for you, that's what she said. And she left us those to read." She pointed to two carefully folded notes that sat on her dresser, with the names Kara and Michael neatly printed on them.

Michael glanced at the notes, and then back at her. "You sure Auntie Liz didn't leave us those?" he asked, dubious.

Kara pouted. "Yes," she insisted. "I'm not a liar, Daddy."

"I know you aren't, sweetie, I know you aren't," he replied quickly. "I just..." His voice drifted off as he looked in the direction of her dresser once again.

"You just what?"

Michael turned to her. "You should go back to bed," he told her, standing up and tucking the blanket around her snugly. "It's way past your bedtime."

Kara opened her mouth to protest, but then simply sighed. "Okay," she said with an obvious hesitance. "But will you read Mommy's letter to me in the morning?"

"Of course I will," he said, smiling and bending down to kiss her on the cheek. "Now go back to sleep."

*********************************************

"Hello?" Michael called into a silent house as he stepped through the doorway carrying a paper bag of Chinese food in his arms. "Anybody home?"

He heard a pattern of small, running footsteps and suddenly Kara had flung herself upon him, hugging his legs tightly. Her tiny face was full of wet tear stains, and she was whimpering like a lost animal.

Setting the bag inside, Michael kneeled down so that he could be eye-level with her and began to dry her face with a cotton handkerchief from his jeans pocket. "What's wrong, honey?" he said soothingly.

"Mommy," was her answer.

"Mommy what?" he asked for her continue, pushing away strands of her curly hair that had stuck to the moisture on her cheeks.

"Mommy's sick," she said mournfully.

Michael blinked. "What do you mean, Mommy's sick?"

"She locked herself in the bathroom, and she won't let me in. Please help her, Daddy," she begged him, her lower lip trembling. "She's scaring me."

*********************************************

The taxicab slowed to a stop in front of 121 Fairview Lane, and Isabel jumped out as soon as she had unlocked her car door. Forgetting about her luggage, she sprinted up the front walk with Alex close behind, only to halt in her flight at the sight of her brother and Liz on the porch steps, holding each other and looking at her with tortured expressions. Max had been the one to drive Michael home, and he had been several steps following him until Liz had rushed outside and into his arms.

"We're too late, aren't we?" Isabel asked with a rueful bitterness, not really needing an answer. She turned around to face Alex, the look of utter heartbreak that appeared on his face perfectly matching what she felt inside.

*********************************************

"I thought I had beaten it," Maria cried into Michael's shoulder. "I really did. And now it's back, and there's more of them..."

"Shhhh..." Michael tried to calm her down. "We'll just have to fight again, that's all."

"I don't think I can do it all over again, Michael," she told him. "I can't."

"*You* can't," he replied, tightening their embrace. "But *we* can."

*********************************************

Michael sat down on her side of the bed to read her note to him. He could swear that he could smell her sweet-and-spicy scent, that he could hear her infectious laugh echo in the room. He knew it was just imagination, but he was thankful for the illusions anyway. He needed to feel her near him.

After a moment of contemplation, he unfolded the piece of paper he held in his hand. Scrawled in Maria's handwriting was...

Who I am A woman loved by a man What I have become One half of one Where I will be Forever in your heart... A well-cherished memory.

Maria DeLuca Guerin was not dead. She was very much alive, in memories, in their daughter.

In him.