She looked across the room at Max. He was the only person who might understand, who might have an inkling of what she was feeling. But she could not bring herself to speak to him. And he seemed to feel the same way about her. He avoided her eyes when he could. He knows the truth, she thought. He knows that this is my fault. That Michael is dead because of me. He knows that I don't even have the right to be receiving all of this sympathy. Because I did this. She closed her eyes tightly, but the memory formed behind her eyelids.

>>> "Oh, god!" She woke up screaming. Her stomach felt as though it was being shredded into a million pieces. It was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt before.

"Maria," he said, sitting up with a start at her scream. "Maria, what's wrong?"

She couldn't answer him. She slammed her eyes shut, trying to force the pain to ebb. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. She was drowning in pain and it was getting worse.

"Maria!" He grabbed her shoulders and she forced her eyes to open. Terror. Sheer terror shone through them. She doubled over, her head hitting his shoulder in the process. He had no idea what to do.

"I'm going to call the hospital, okay?"

She tried to nod. Make it go away, Michael. Please make it stop.

His hand had just reached the phone when she fainted. It was then that he saw the blood. The sheets were covered in it. Her pajamas were covered in it. Looking down, he saw that he too was covered in it.

"Maria!" He tried in vain to wake her up. The rational side of him was screaming instructions. Call the hospital, get her to a doctor. It was like a pamphlet, what to do in case of an emergency. But when his hand reached the phone it did not dial the hospital. It dialed a number it knew by heart.

"Hello?" The tired voice answered after the fourth ring.

"Max, I need help. It's Maria."

Ten minutes later, her eyes opened and the pain had subsided. It was still there, but it was a shadow of the ache that it had been. Her eyes focused on his. Relief washed over them.

"Thank God," he whispered. He pulled her toward him and wrapped his arms around her. She clung to him tightly.

"What happened?" she managed to whisper.

"Never mind. How do you feel?"

"Better." She pulled back to look at him. It was only then that she realized that her skin was glowing. "Michael..."

"Don't worry, you'll be okay," he said, placing his hands on either side of her face. "You're going to be fine."

"What ... how ... how did you do this, Michael?"

"I called Max," he admitted. "He told me what to do."

She nodded. Michael had used his powers on her and she hadn't blown up. She had the absurd desire to laugh. But when she did, it came out all wrong, and she started to cry.

"It's okay," he said, pulling her close to him again. He smoothed her hair back. She buried her head in his chest and began sobbing. What on earth was wrong with her?

After a while, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. She felt lightheaded, so she put her hand on the bed to steady herself. When it touched the sheet, she felt something warm and wet. She looked down and screamed for the second time that night.

They looked like something out of a cheap horror movie, both of them sitting there covered in blood. How will I ever get this out of the sheets? she thought. It took a few seconds for her to realize that this blood had come from her, and that he had been lying. Everything was not all right.

"Michael, what happened?" Her voice was insistent.

He sighed. "I think... I'm pretty sure that you had a miscarriage," he said, in a voice so low she could barely hear him. A miscarriage? A baby? Thoughts were swimming in her head, but they wouldn't form completely. All she could do was nod.

"Did you know?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. Think, she told herself. Yes, it was possible. Yes, she was late. How could she not have known? "I'm sorry, Michael."

His eyes looked startled. "What? Maria, there is nothing to be sorry for. You didn't cause this. I'm just glad that you're okay."

She nodded and the tears welled up in her eyes again. This was her fault. How could it not be?

Slowly she began to return to her senses. They changed the sheets. She threw them away. She knew that she could never get all of the blood out. They changed their clothes. She threw them away too. She didn't want to look at blood anymore. Finally they crawled back into bed. But neither one of them could sleep. She wondered when she would stop glowing. What had Michael done? She knew how Max had saved Liz, but that had been a bullet, something tangible that he could work around. And what about looking into her eyes? Wasn't that somehow a part of it? What had Michael done to her? Logically, she knew that she should go to the doctor. To make sure that everything was okay. But this thing was part Michael. Part alien. They couldn't risk doctors. That was why he had called Max in the first place. He couldn't take her to the hospital, for fear of what this thing might be.

She was terrified and saddened by the loss of it all at once. She had been carrying a child. Michael's child. An alien child. Something that was not supposed to be. No wonder if had died. But she missed it. She hadn't known that it was possible to miss something that you never truly knew you had. But it was possible. And she missed it terribly. She felt an emptiness inside of her. She tightened her grip around him and he, in turn, did the same. Did he feel this too? She laid there, wide awake and aching for a child that she never knew. She had no idea how much she had lost in a few minutes of screaming. <<<

*****

It was getting late. They had eaten all that they could. Alex had left. His parents had left. But for some reason Max could not tear himself away from the booth where he was sitting. Leaving would make it final. He wasn't ready for that. All of this was supposed to bring closure. For him it had opened the wound even further.

He watched as Liz's parents left. They hugged Isabel and then Maria. They didn't know what to do with him. He stayed where he was and they finally left, glancing at him with pity in their eyes. He didn't deserve pity. He had brought all of this upon himself.

"I think that I need to go home," Maria said in a small voice.

"Okay," Isabel said, putting her arm around the tiny girl. "Paul and I will take you." She looked over at Max and he nodded.

His sister left him there. She hadn't wanted to, but he wasn't ready to leave yet. He wasn't ready for all of it to end. And so there he sat, face to face with the love of his life and the love of hers. The pain that was searing through him was more than he could stand. But he deserved it, he reminded himself.

He watched as Liz whispered something in Kyle's ear. His mind wandered to a time when those precious lips had touched his own ear, when her breath had stilled upon his skin. He watched as Kyle stood and stretched. He glanced in Max's direction and turned to leave. For the first time, Max noticed that Kyle wasn't angry anymore. His face did not carry the fury that it once had. But then, why should it? He had the most beautiful girl in the world for reasons that Max could not comprehend.

He watched as she slowly walked toward him. Memories were flooding his brain and he tried in vain to push them away.