“You sure?” He asked, standing barely an inch away.

“Mmmm Hmmm…” She looked up at him with a sly smile.

“Because, I can stay for a little longer, you know.” Licking his lips, Michael ran his finger underneath her chin. “Just in case you…”

“I’ll be *fine,*” Maria soothed, gently rolling her head back to give him more access to her throat.

“Mmm… then I guess I should be going…” Michael straightened as his fingers lost final contact with her skin. “Oh, the hell with it…” He surged for her mouth, slightly sucking on her bottom lip. Maria slid her palms up his chest, marveling at the mere feel of him. His kisses trailed against her jawline, gently nipping at her earlobe before traveling down her neck.

“You really don’t need to… Oh, God,” Maria moaned, gripping her fingers into his shoulders. His hands reached down towards her bottom and clutched her against him. Haggardly breathing into his chest, she shuddered as his tongue slid down her collarbone. “Aren’t they… uh… aren’t they waiting for you downstairs? Oh…”

“No.” He started to unbutton her shirt. She could hear the fabric tearing slightly from his frustrated tugs. “I told them to go,” he said, pushing the top off her shoulders.

“Aren’t you the presumptuous one… oh, don’t stop that.” His thumbs brushed over the satin of her bra. “I love when you do that…” Maria arched her back as he returned to her neck, his lips barely hovering over her skin – his tongue occasionally darting out to taste her.

“Couch or bed?”

“Hmmm?” Maria’s eyes fluttered open as she tried to discern what he had said.

“Couch or bed?” Michael repeated, his hands sliding to her hips.

“Ummm…”

Physically frustrated by her indecision, Michael hoisted Maria up onto the ledge behind her. “Table it is, then.”

Maria pulled at the bottom of his shirt, then her hands traveled up his chest slowly, her touch as tentative as a new lover’s. Michael shuddered at the feel of her nails gently scraping against his skin. His palms bore down on her shoulders, in hopes that it would keep him standing. Wrapping her legs around his thighs, Maria leaned forward and swept her tongue along the hollow of his throat. Groaning, Michael dropped his head and sought out her lips yet again.

Suddenly, Maria pulled away. “When are you leaving?”

“What?” He stood stiff, confused by the blunt detour.

“Michael, I know what you’re thinking.” Maria sat back and smoothed her hair down. “I can *feel* what you’re thinking. And, I guess I’m not surprised. I mean, you’ve dealt with what you had to. You don’t need us, you don’t need me anymore…”

“Stop.” He pressed his finger to her lips. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I just had an image of that time… when we, um, broke the kitchen cabinet in my old apartment.”

“We *did* do that, didn’t we?” Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she laughed in spite of herself.

“Yeah…” His thumb stroked her cheek softly. “And I started to think about my new apartment, how it’s never really been more than a place to sleep. But… there are a few things that I wanted to bring back with me.”

“Bring back?”

“Well, this seems like a nice town. I thought I might hang out here for a little while.”

“Oh.” Maria kept her head down. This was not something she was expecting. Actually, she didn’t really know what she was expecting, but somehow the idea of Michael staying had never occurred to her. Then again, neither did the idea of him leaving. She didn’t give much thought to what he’d be doing tomorrow, the next day, or next week. For some reason, time always seemed to stand still when Michael was around.

Michael reached around her neck, unclasping the long silver chain she was wearing. The small ring easily slid into his hand, and they both stared at it, afraid to speak. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, once again feeling her energy emanating from it. But it wasn’t pain this time, and it wasn’t purely *her* energy. There was something in him that responded to it.

“But I’ll understand if I’m not welcome. I know Max still isn’t thrilled to have me around – he puts up with it because of Isabel. And you – God, sometimes I wonder why you still talk to me. I did something totally selfish, I screwed up your life…” His hands were clenched in tight fists, his composure starting to break. “And I don’t know how to stop it. I didn’t give you any choice in the matter, and it was wrong.” Michael looked up into her eyes, terrified from both his burst of honesty and her potential reaction. “And I’m sorry.”

Maria took his face in her hands, and cocked her head. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For finally thinking of me.”

“What do you mean? I’ve always~” Michael sputtered.

“No, you didn’t.” She dropped her arms, placing her hands over his fists. “You only thought about what *you* wanted, you did what *you* wanted, and you never think about how it will affect other people.” He breathed in deeply and looked away from her. “But, the thing is, you *do* affect other people, Michael. You can’t stop that, no matter how much you want to. And you can’t keep us from caring, no matter how much you want to. Because we care – Max, Isabel, Liz, even Alex – we all care, we all love you. *I* love you, Michael.”

“God, Maria…” Michael winced at her words.

“Shhh…” she said, placing her thumb over his parted lips. “I’m not looking for a response. It’s my turn to be selfish, it’s my turn to do something because *I* needed to.” Maria tugged his chin so that he’d look at her. Then she turned her attention to his hands, pulling his fingers away from his palms. Her left thumb pressed down on the ring still in his right hand. She traced over the edge and looked up at Michael who was staring at her in nervous anticipation.

“I’m not… I can’t… I don’t want to fuck your life up again.” He stumbled over the words, preparing himself for the worst. But Maria just smiled, the same smile that she wore when he woke up in her arms after five years of absence, the same smile that he felt when he laid in her bed in Roswell, after the Hank fiasco. He remembered her sitting in Max’s apartment as he cooked her breakfast. It was only now that the weight of his realization truly dawned on him. That she loved him, no matter what. Grasping the ring, Michael ran his finger over her left hand. “I didn’t let you have a choice last time. I don’t blame you for…”

Pulling him down to her, Maria cut him off with a kiss. Her lips were so gentle, but he could feel a passion burning deep inside her. Instead of fighting it like he normally did, Michael let himself flow into her, and let her come into him. It all hit him at once – her forgiveness, her desire, her fear, her need, and her love. It was almost overwhelming, in fact, days earlier it would have been too much for him to handle, and he would have been on the first bus back to Lydia. But now it filled the empty hole he felt everyday, and it started to break down the constant feeling of being lost. As he felt her tongue slid between his lips, Michael pulled away tenderly, knowing that he’d get distracted and lose his nerve. He rested his forehead against hers and admired her.

Holding the ring between his thumb and forefinger, he brought it up to the small space separating them. Maria raised her hand and let him slide it back onto her finger, back to the home that it had known for so long. The cool metal immediately warmed from the heat of her skin, and she sighed heavily as the uneasiness that she’d been feeling for the past few days began to subside. They both studied the way the ring fit so perfectly on her finger, completely understanding the implications of their simple actions. Michael clasped his left hand with hers, and she smiled at the sound of the two metal rings scraping against each other.

“Michael?” He pulled back and looked at her. She grinned slyly at him. “Bed.”

**

Moist lips trailed tender kisses along Maria’s shoulder towards neck. She shivered from the contact, and rolled back towards him, feeling his hand slide down the length of his arm. He smiled against her throat when he heard the little whimper of pleasure escape. Slightly annoyed at his sudden pride, Maria stretched out away from him.

“Don’t think that’s going to make me forgive you or anything.”

Michael froze, then blinked his eyes repeatedly. Was this yet another dream? Did nothing happen last night – the forest, the ring, the… bed? Then, how did he get here, next to Maria, and why were they both naked? He propped himself up on one elbow and brought his other arm back to his side, fearful of what she might say if he touched her again.

“You know what I’ve enjoyed the most about the last five years?” Maria mumbled, still with her back to him. “That I have a big bed *all* to myself. And a big blanket *all* to myself. No one to sprawl out in the middle and pushing me off to the side. No stupid boys to steal the blanket and make me lie here freezing cold.” A quiet chuckle betrayed the anger she was trying to put off to him, and, relieved, Michael rested his head next to hers on the pillow. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Poor you,” he said, smoothing his hand over her stomach. “With nothing to complain about for five years. I feel for you, really…” A pillow swung out and nailed him squarely in the head. By the time he recovered from the shock, Maria was curled back up, looking deceptively angelic. Michael bit into her skin teasingly, his fingers tickling her sides. A fit of giggles erupted, and panting, Maria flipped over to face him.

“You’re evil.”

“You hit me.”

“You deserved it.”

Michael sighed, then acquiesced. He glanced down and grabbed her left hand, his thumb once again caressing the silver ring he’d given her. Maria watched him, touched by the look of adoration and amazement on his face. The events of the night before were beginning to settle in. More than the forest, more than the stones and the lights, more than anything else, what Maria remembered most vividly was the choice she made. Michael held the ring, and she offered him her hand. They were truly joined – not by his doing, or her doing – but by *their* doing. Maria took his hand and squeezed it.

“So, how do you feel? Any different?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your, uh, non-human status. Has it returned?” Maria touched his cheek.

“Oh. Some, I think. I was playing with your nail polish bottle earlier, and I could change the colours. And last night, I… saw things.”

A sheepish grin spread across Maria’s face. “Yeah,” she said softly, “Me too.”

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers. She always tasted the same – that perfect combination that he was always searching for and could never quite duplicate. Maria slung a leg over his hips, gently gyrating against him. Michael felt dizzy, she had this way of making him so woozy by just being around him. Every nerve ending begged to be touched by her silky smooth skin, every part of him wanted to envelop her and never leave her side. But he had to leave, at least long enough to go home and get the few worthwhile things he owned.

“I… I’m going to have to go soon.”

“I know,” Maria lowered her head, resting it on his chest. “When?”

“Not sure,” Michael traced circles on her back. “I was thinking that I’d hang out until Isabel left.”

“Makes sense.”

“But I’ll be back,” he affirmed.

Pulling away from him, Maria bit her lip. “Will you?”

“I’ll come back to you.” Michael kissed the crown of her head.

The alarm clock on the night table started buzzing. Maria rolled onto her back and checked the time. “Oh…” she moaned. “I *so* don’t want to go down and open the store today.”

Michael grazed his fingers up her thigh. “Can’t that Lucy girl do it?” he murmured against her ear.

“She has the day, uh…” The feel of Michael’s gentle and determined touch interrupted Maria’s train of thought. “…off. I have to get up…mmm…”

Licking her earlobe, Michael doubled his efforts. “Maybe you can close the store for the day.”

“Uh… can’t. Have. Bills. Need. Money. Must. Open. Store.” Maria was incapable of anything more than one-syllable sentences.

“Then maybe you can open it late today.”

“I’d have to get up and put a note on the door. I don’t think I can get up right now.”

Chuckling, Michael turned her face towards his and kissed her lightly. “I’ll do it. I’ll be right back.”

As he got up and left the room, Maria studied his every movement, still a little overwhelmed at the fact he was with her, that he was *with* her. He walked around the bed, running his fingers through his hair, and she licked her lips mindlessly as her eyes raked over his muscular back. In some ways, the past five years had very much changed him for the better. She rolled back over to her side as he left her bedroom, listening to him rifle through her keys, looking for the right ones. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

“Uh, Michael?” she called out to him.

“Yeah?” He popped his head back into the room.

“Jeans,” she smirked. “Jeans would probably be a good thing.”

**

The next week went by quickly. Isabel had predictably monopolized most of Michael’s time, insisting that she was leaving soon and wouldn’t be out for a while. Max and Liz kept retiring to the bedroom earlier and earlier each night, and the tension between him and Michael eased a little more as the days went on. The store was rather busy, keeping Maria from spending more than an evening or two with the gang. But there wasn’t a morning that she wasn’t nudged out of sleep by a trail of kisses leading up from the small of her back.

After a long Sunday of goodbyes, Max and Maria returned to her apartment. They had just dropped Michael off at the bus station, and Isabel’s flight had taken off earlier in the afternoon. Liz had gone home to finish grading papers – leaving them to their own devices. They stomped up the stairs with bags and bags of groceries. Exhausted from the day, Maria tossed everything on the kitchen table and walked over to the sink for a glass of water.

“Is this your napkin holder?”

Maria turned around to see Max holding the wooden contraption at eye level, squinting at it skeptically. “Yup.”

“What happened to it?”

“It fell – Michael fixed it.”

Wrinkling his nose, Max placed it back on the table. “Well, he didn’t do a very good job. You can still see where it’s broken. I can~”

“No,” Maria interrupted, grabbing his hand. “Leave it, I like it the way it is.”

Shrugging, Max started to unpack the groceries. “So, do you think he’s coming back?”

“Michael?” The blonde pursed her lips. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“Will you be okay if he doesn’t?”

“Eventually.” She smiled. “I’ve made it through many a-Michael Guerin-heartbreak before, I can do it again. Plus, I’ve got good friends to help me through.” She handed him the glass he was reaching for. As he took a sip, Maria cocked an eyebrow mischievously. “Although I think I’ll skip the ‘sex therapy’ this time.”

Max spat out a mouthful of water and bent over the table, clutching the edge. His body was wracked with hacking coughs, his gasps barely letting in any air. “Uh…”

Chuckling, Maria went over and patted his back. “Oh, c’mon. It’s been a week since I’ve really gotten to tease you, and that was *so* worth it – the reaction alone.” She waited until he regained his composure. “Seriously, though. This is one of those big tests of trust. He said he’d come back, and I have to trust him.” Maria touched Max lightly on the nose. “And so do you.”

“I know, I know…” He said, taking a deep breath. His lungs were trying to get back to some sort of normalcy. “I’m working on it… It’s just… he’s so…”

“Michael.” Maria finished for him. “Impulsive, infuriating alien extraordinaire. But… amazing, passionate, and strangely vulnerable.”

“You know him so much better than I do.” His tone reflected a sense of hurt, that even with all they had shared, Michael was somewhat of a stranger to him.

“No, I don’t.” She touched his cheek, smiling. “Sometimes he just lets me… in a little more than other people. He lets me understand him a little bit more.”

“Even when he doesn’t understand himself.” Max clasped his hand over hers.

A flush of red covered Maria’s face. She glanced away from Max’s stare, narrowing her eyes at something across the room. Edging past him, she walked over to the refrigerator and plucked an envelope off the door.

“What is it?” Max asked, watching her open the envelope.

Shivers shot up Maria’s spine as she unfolded the letter. It was plain white paper, she recognized it from her box of stationery. But it was his handwriting – Michael’s. She shook her head in disbelief – just when she thought…

“Maria?”

“Oh, um,” Maria bit her lip, but it didn’t keep the amazed grin from growing. “It’s a… It’s a…” She nodded, still staring at the paper. “It’s from Michael.”

“What does it say?” Max furrowed his eyebrows.

“Just, uh,” she quickly scanned over the paper one last time. Putting it back into the envelope, Maria placed it on the corner of the table, ignoring Max’s inquiring gaze. “Something he didn’t get a chance to tell me before he left.”

Curiosity got the better of Max, and as soon as Maria turned around to put something away, he snatched the envelope and held it beneath the table to read the letter. It was not addressed to anyone, nor signed, but the telltale handwriting was classic Michael. Down the center, a short poem was scrawled.

“somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing