There was no one there to kiss him goodbye, no one to tell him she had no regrets. There was no one to thank for every kiss, for every smile. But then, there wouldn’t be, would there?

A twenty-five year old Michael Guerin alone stood in front of the glowing granilith, contemplating the plan he had so characteristically thrown together on impulse as soon as he and the others had learned of the power that the granilith possessed. His face was grim as he stared up at the powerful alien devise, but his heart beat a little faster with an emotion he barely recognized, so long had it been since he felt it – hope. No, there had been no one beside him this dark and lonely night as he had walked through the chilly desert to the caves that held the four alien’s pods and the granilith. There had been no one beside him because he had told no one what he was planning. Not Max, their fearless leader, not his sister or her husband, Alex, not Tess or Kyle and not Liz, the woman whom he had become closer to than he could ever have imagined nine years ago. But that was the funny thing about grief, it could drive people apart and it could bring people together.

In the nine years since her death, Liz and Michael had developed a bond between them that none of the others could understand. They had both lost someone so important to them that life seemed to loose its meaning. Liz had lost her best friend, someone who was closer to her than even a sister would be. And Michael had lost the only woman he could ever love, the only one who truly understood him. Of them all, Liz had understood best what Michael was feeling. But she still had Max. She still had her soulmate. Michael had no one. Yeah, after losing her, Michael finally gave in to the whole ‘soulmate’ concept. It was funny how losing someone made you realize just what they really brought to your life. She had made him complete. Without her, he didn’t know what to do.

She had once told him she didn’t think what they had was true love, but she was wrong. No, she had been lying to herself, almost as bad as he had been lying to himself, telling himself that he didn’t need her, that he could make it on his own. He thought putting stonewall between himself, his heart, and the world would stop himself from being hurt when it all fell apart as he expected it to eventually. And the last nine years without her have taught him nothing if not that that stonewall had been his downfall. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret all the things that weren’t said and all the things that weren’t done.

He had spent those last nine years living in darkness, reaching for the light that had already been snuffed out. He missed her. She was his light. The impish girl who had such quiet strength behind her spirited nature. He often wondered what kind of woman she would have grown up to be. He had only begun to explore all that she was when she was taken from him. It had been a bad time. When Hank took his anger out on him that cold and lonely night only a few days after the funeral, there had been no one to turn to, at least not the one he really needed that rainy night. It was funny; he had gone to her window anyway. He hadn’t even thought of it, he was just there by her bedroom looking in. Her room had been dark and empty, of course it had, so he took solace instead in the desert, a poor substitute to her arms, but it became home over the years, an escape.

He remembered the moment when he truly realized that she was never coming home again, that he would never again look into her eyes or see that rare brilliant smile. He had broken down then and there, alone in the empty graveyard on a day that was too bright and cheerful for his mood, his aura splashed with the black of greif and pain, overwhelming his usual brick red. He cried heavy, bitter tears, watering the new piece of turf placed over her fresh grave, willing to give anything just to hear her impish giggle.

All those years and he had never known the power that was just waiting to be used behind the pods . . the power that could even bring back the dead.

“Maria,” Michael whispered, his voice cracking slightly at the name he hadn’t spoken in years. It felt strange on his tongue. Maria. Maria DeLuca A tear trickled down his cheek, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away.

He would see her soon.

Michael inserted the crystal he had stolen from Max into the base of the granilith. The light of the granilith grew brighter, and he was enfolded in the sparkling purples and greens. Another flash of light, a moment of disorientation as time changed, turned back, and he was in the alleyway behind the Crashdown. There he could faintly make out, through the clatter of the kitchen and the noise of the customers and workers, the sweetest sound that he had ever heard. He had done it.

The Crashdown: February 2000

Maria DeLuca was given last opportunity of the day to practice her best fake smile as she carried her last tray of food of the day to her last customer. At least she hoped it was her last. It was five minutes until eleven o’clock, when the Crashdown normally closed on a Saturday night, and Maria swore to God that if one more person tried to walk through that door between now and eleven . . . Focus, DeLuca, she ordered herself as she reached the booth in the back. “Okay, we have two Will Smith Specials, an Alien Blast, and a cherry coke,” she said as she placed the food in front of the twenty-something couple. “Is there anything else I can get you?” Please say no, oh please. If I can just get the counters wiped down and the ketchups filled, and then of course the grill cleaned off like Mr. Parker asked . . . Maybe I can get out of here at a decent time. I mean, I love Mr. Parker, but has he ever heard of breaks? My feet are killing me!

“No, thank you,” the woman said, already diving into the food.

Oh, thank you, thank you. She placed the bottle of ketchup next to their plates and made a quick escape before they could change their minds. The night had been long, and she was ready to get out of alien-themed café as soon as possible. It was bad enough she had had to put up with Prince Charming, Quasimodo, and the Ice Princess earlier in the night when the three had come in for dinner. Thankfully, they had sat in Liz’s section, so Maria didn’t have to deal with the spike-headed, Stonewall Guerin directly. There had been a strange undercurrent of tension between Liz and Max, which Maria thought might have something to do with the strange events that happened at the concert, though she was still working on Liz for the details. Whatever it was, it didn’t stop either of them from sneaking each other soulful looks the entire night, which was enough to make Maria sick, especially with the way Michael had been treating her. Mud. What was that? What does it mean when a guy says “m ud” after he kisses you? On second thought, maybe she didn’t want to know. She just wished for once Michael would at least pretend like he actually cared about her . . .

“Any more coffee drinkers?” Liz asked Maria as she made her way to the other side of the counter She had her hand on the half-full pot of decaf as she waited for Maria’s response.

“Not unless they come in the next,” she glanced quickly at the clock on the wall, “oh, three minutes.”

“Great,” Liz replied, pouring the remaining coffee down the sink and getting a head start on cleaning the coffee maker.

Maria busied herself combining the ketchup bottles. After the third bottle, she glanced up at the clock. Two minutes after eleven and no new customers. Maria smiled to herself, her mood brightening considerably. Maybe she could actually get home at a decent time tonight, despite the fact that Maria, Liz and Mr. Parker were the only ones here to close the café for the night. “I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord,” she sang, as she combined more ketchups, oblivious to the sticky mess it was making of her fingers. “And I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord, oh Lord.”

Still humming the song, Maria wiped her ketchup-covered hands on an already dirty towel that lay on the counter. She glanced at it. The once-white cloth was now . . . well, not so white, and not so clean. In fact, it was downright disgusting. Grabbing the edge of the towel by the tip of her finger and thumb, Maria carefully carried it to the back behind the kitchen area to the bin of dirty aprons and towels. As she passed the open doorway to the alleyway (had it been open before?), Maria could have sworn she saw a figure back away from the doorway and slick just out of sight. Never one to be accused of being a coward, Maria quickly deposed of the disgusting towel and poked her head out the door.

“Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?” When there wasn’t an answer, she tried a different approach. She stepped out of the doorway. “Look pal, I saw you. You –”

Her bold accusation turned into a squeal of surprise when someone reached out and grabbed her arm. The rough, callused hand scratched her tender skin of her wrist, but that only served to make her angrier. She tried to yank her hand away, and when that didn’t work, she twisted her arm until the man was forced to let her go. She started to flee back into the safety of the Crashdown, already trying to remember where Mr. Parker had gone and deciding which phone was the closest.

“Maria.”

That single word stopped her. Michael? The voice was the same. She knew that voice. But there was something different about it. The voice seemed older, heavier, spoken from the mouth of a man who had carried the weight of a world on his shoulders for too long. “Michael?”

Silence. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness of the alleyway, and the man whose form she could barely make out showed no intention of leaving the shadows.

“Michael, this isn’t funny,” she said with a forced air of impatience. But something made her ask, “Who are you?”

There was a pause as the man in the shadows seemed to make a decision. And then he stepped into the light. Maria’s eyes widened.

It was Michael; at least he looked like Michael. But not the Michael she knew. His porcupine spikes that she had always teased him about, that she secretly loved to run her fingers through, were gone. His hair was cropped short against his head in almost a military look. His eyes carried none of the self-confidence and bold defiance that they usually did. There still the sharp intelligence there, but also a completely haunted, closed-off look. This was a man who had suffered greatly in his life. Dark circles beneath his eyes made him look tired, very tired. As her eyes left his and strayed down the rest of his face, she saw a long thin scar down the left side of his cheek, from temple to chin, its harsh whiteness standing out against the tan color of his face.

“Who are you?” she asked again, knowing but not understanding. “Why do you look so much like . . . someone I know?”

The man shot a look behind her. Maria turned to see Liz’s dark head disappearing around the corner, oblivious to what was going on only a few feet away as she went about her normal nightly tasks. The sounds of clattering dishes and splashing of water drifted through the open doorway. The man’s eyes returned once more to hers. “Because I am Michael Guerin, Maria.”

“No,” Maria said, shaking her head. “You’re not Michael. You . . . can’t be. I mean, I just saw the guy.” She gestured broadly at the man before her. “And he didn’t look like this!”

His eyes strayed from her face, staring instead into to darkness of the alleyway. “That’s right,” he whispered, remembering. “Me, Max and Izzy ate dinner here that night. How could I have forgotten?”

“No, Michael, Max and Isabel ate here tonight. I don’t know who you are, I don’t care that you look like him, but you are not Michael!” Maria’s face became visibly paler as she considered who he might be instead, and she took a step backward. “Oh, God, you’re the shape-shi—“

“Ask me something,” Michael said, cutting her off.

“What?” Maria said, his words snapping her out of her growing panic.

“I said, ask me something. Something only Michael would know.”

“Ask you something?” She said the words slowly as though still not quite understanding. She studied his face and saw the growing tension and impatience there.

“Just do it!” A surge of familiar irritation hit him, and when he recognized the feeling, for a moment, a smile played across his lips.

“Fine,” Maria said. She stared up at the night sky as she mentally went through her ‘Michael files’ to find a suitable question. Then, choosing one, she met his eyes again boldly. “Okay, what’s your favorite book?”

“James Joyce . . . Ulysses.”

She blinked in surprise. He had even said it the same as he had in the ‘nookie’ motel room that night. “You have not read Ulysses,” Maria said, testing him.

“’What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones who pass it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds.’ Page 655 . . . Now do you understand?” . . . Told you you wouldn’t understand. Next question.

For a moment all moment all Maria could do was stare at him. “Michael?” Her breath quickened. “Oh, God, it can’t be. I don’t understand. I don’t. I mean, you look like Michael, and you know things Michael knows, but how—“

“Maria.” He once again cut her off, knowing that if he didn’t the panicking girl would never give him a chance to explain. “I’m from the future. Nine years from now. The year 2009.”

Seeing her confusion, Michael knew that statement only added to the questions she had. Never being very good at words, Michael instead reached out and touched her face. He wasn’t as good at this as Max, he never had been, but he had put a lot of time into developing his powers. It was a way of taking his mind off of everything else. He would show her.

Maria was surprised at his touch. It was hesitant, tender, and carried none of the heated passion that Michael’s touch usually invoked. Still, there seemed to be the usual tread of electricity that jumped between them whenever and wherever their skin touched. Before she could speak, a collage of images hit them both, and Michael found that despite his best intentions, he had no way of controlling which scenes he showed her and in what order.

The granilith, though Maria didn’t know the name for it, was the first image she was shown. It’s massive alien power put her in awe. A crystal was jammed into the base of the granilith and the world turned upside down as the sparkling lights began.