Isabel stared intently at the hands folded in front of her. A slight frown around her eyes and mouth. Michael stared at her hands as well, as one of his cradled his chin and side of his face. The silence had grown between them over the past few weeks until this crescendo after hours in the diner. Somehow they'd found themselves alone together. She knocking on the backdoor as he went about closing for the night.

He had taken her hand and led her there to the booth. Without a word. He wasn't sure why she was there. Destiny? Death? Love? Life? There was so much they'd avoided talking about or even acknowledging. But she was there now. And that was all that mattered. He'd be there for her. And he'd be for her whatever she needed. Her shoulder. Her ear. Her rock.

And then she started.

"I never cry for me ya know?" She said, still not looking at him. "I never have...not that I can remember anyway." And he nodded slightly, because he did know.

"I've cried so much in the last couple of months. More than I have during the rest of my life. Or this life anyway. But I can't cry for me. Why is that Michael?" She finally looked up at him, searching his face for answers she couldn't find in her own...at home...in front of her mirror. A journey she'd traveled often in the last few days. Trying to gain a truth or a fact or even some hope. In her eyes or in her soul.

She didn't wait for the answer that he wasn't even going to try to give her. He remained silent, knowing it was more important for her to talk to someone other than herself.

"I cry for Max and Liz. For their love lost. And for Tess. Someone needs to cry for her. She's so alone Michael. Even now that she's found us. Isn't that sad? The paths we've taken have come back together, but we're still apart. I don't know if she'll ever really belong.

"I cry for Alex. For what I've done to him. How I've hurt him. I never meant for that to happen you know? God I never meant to hurt that sweet sweet guy. But even as we were together I knew, I KNEW there was something missing. That I didn't belong to him or with him."

She looked up at him again, quickly this time, almost startled, before looking back down at her now white-knuckled hands. Hoping he didn't read too much into that admission...while fearing he would read too little. Still he said nothing. Waiting it out. Knowing there was more.

"And for Maria because..." She stopped herself, not ready to address his pain as well as the pain of the rest of the people she cried for, knowing that if she brought up Maria that part would follow as well.

"I get tired of the tears. I get tired of hurting for other people. I wish I could cry for me. I know that sounds bad and it is. But there's this welling up inside my chest that won't go away. It just keeps growing. And I know it belongs to my own pain. But I can't let it go...because of what I've done. Sometimes I think I deserve the pain. I deserve the feelings I can't let go of. Because of my past I can't remember and because I've hurt people in this life as well...and because I've killed..."

The last part was a whisper that he felt more than heard. Slowly he reached out to unclench her hands, taking one in each of his. Still she would not look at him. Fearing what she'd see if she looked at him. Knowing what he'd see if she let him look at her.

He had yet to say a word....he just sat there...holding her hands in his...gently. The silence was back again. Falling slowly back into place.

Her gaze remained fixed on the table as she felt one of his hands raise one of hers to his face...to his cheek...to feel the tears. She gasped as her eyes met his.