"Do you have to do that?" she snapped as she put a basket of fries on the table for him.

"Like it that way," he said simply.

Maria shook her head, her short blond hair swaying. "I will never get used to that."

Michael shrugged, unconcerned. He gestured to the empty seat across from him in the booth. "Have time for a break?" he asked.

Maria let a smile creep to her lips. That was about as close as Michael got to telling her he missed her. Of course, he hadn't made eye contact when he'd asked her. If he had, she might see that all of her suspicions where true - that he had missed her and was hoping beyond all hope that she could sit for just a minute.

Maria looked around the dining room of the Crashdown, saw that most of the tables were empty, and Liz was attending to the few people who were there.

"Okay," she said, and slid into the booth across from him. Immediately, his foot found her feet, separated them, and he rested his leg between hers. That was as close to public affection as Michael got also. Maria loved it - loved the rough feel of his jeans against her bare legs.

"So," she said, clearing her throat.

"So," he repeated, picking up his burger and taking a bite.

"How's your burger?" she asked, amused.

He nodded, his mouth full. At least he'd picked up some table manners since he'd been with her.

"And your day?" she quizzed.

He nodded again, chewing. He finally swallowed. "You don't have to talk, you know," he said, looking at her.

She nodded in agreement, the smile still firmly on her lips. Words were always over rated with Michael. He was right - she didn't have to speak. Instead, she closed her thighs tight around his knee.

Michael momentarily forgot his newly-acquired table manners and his mouth dropped open. Pleased with the response, Maria slid off one of her shoes, and brought her foot up to rest against the zipper of his jeans.

Michael cleared his throat and wiped his hands on his paper napkin. "Okay, maybe I'll just let you talk…at least until I'm done with dinner."

Maria's scream of laughter echoed in the nearly deserted restaurant. Michael couldn't help but chuckle at her abandon.

"Happy Birthday, Michael," Liz Parker greeted as she walked to the table. In one hand she had a piece of chocolate cake, in the other a bottle of Tabasco. She put the cake and hot sauce on the table and kissed him on the cheek.

Michael felt his face redden a little at the attention. He had to admit that Liz had grown on him. After all of his suspicions, fears and accusations that she would some day betray them, she had found a place in her heart to forgive him. The whole thing with Max hadn't worked out, they hadn't even spoken in months, and yet she was still Michael's friend. Friend enough to remember his birthday - at least the birthday social services had given him - and make an attempt to make him feel special. He'd been wrong about Liz. She was what real friends were about.

"Uh, thanks," he said, gesturing to the cake.

"And I brought an extra fork in case you wanted to share with Maria," Liz explained. Then she leaned in close. "But leave the Tabasco off her side," she whispered, "it makes her nose run."

Now Michael howled with laughter, leaving Maria looking confused and nearly ready to remove her strategically planted foot.

Liz reached over and took the check from the table. "And this one is on the house tonight."

"Oh, wait, I can't let you - " Michael began.

Liz put up a hand to stop him. "Not my idea, it was all his," she said, pointing to her father, who was behind the bar.

Michael looked toward Jeff Parker in wonder. The man barely knew Michael, but had let him rent a room behind the Crashdown, had helped him through some rough times without a question ever asked. Michael felt a lump in his throat. He guessed it wasn't so hard to see where Liz got it from. All he could do was nod his thanks.

As Liz walked away, Michael looked across the table to Maria, who had been oddly quiet. She was still smiling at him.

"What?" Michael asked as he started shaking the Tabasco over half of the cake.

"Oh, I don't know," Maria yawned, stretching and pressing her foot down on his jeans. Michael dropped the bottle of hot sauce. "I'm kind of tired. Don't most people go to bed early on their birthday?" She let her uniform slip off her shoulder just enough that he could see something red and lacy underneath. "Or do they open their presents first?"

Michael staggered through the door to this small apartment. Maria's legs were wrapped around his waist, her hands wound in his wild hair. Their lips were locked and they were shedding articles of clothing as the moved for the bed.

Thank God the room was directly behind the kitchen, Michael laughed to himself. The noise was so loud in there that they would never hear what was about to happen in Michael's little flat. Many a night Maria had taken her 15 -minute break and had knocked on his door, always welcome. The convenience of living where she worked was almost comic.

Michael gently laid Maria down on the sofa bed, then stood to remove the rest of his clothes. At first, he thought he'd turned the wrong way and strained a muscle, or perhaps his acrobatic dash with Maria clinging to his body had pulled something. Then he realized it wasn't pain that had caused him to stop.

It was fear. Ugly, unwanted, vile fear. Creeping its way across his body.

And then it was gone.

Maria had sat up on her elbows and was looking at him, wide-eyed. "What?" she gasped. "What just happened?"

Michael swallowed, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Your face, Michael. The look on your face. What did you see?"

Michael slumped to the edge of the bed. Maria immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders.