Monsters

Michael kept his gaze on the floor as he waited for an answer.

He was still trying to sort through the bombardment of memories; it hadn't been like before, a cute little blonde girl whose loneliness had mirrored his. Now they were just ugly pictures of a sallow, shrunken woman harbouring a desperate, tearing contempt for the world and herself. And there was his face, but it wasn't him, this guy has a mohawk, piercings, a contemptuous grin, and bloody, bruised fists that rose up and down. His mind recoiled at that final image, shying away from a memory that tugged too closely to his own abuse. There were also moments of tenderness intermingled with the others, Not-him brushing her hair from her face, Not-him smiling whilst doling out butterfly kisses, tucking her into bed….but oddly enough with every tender caress that was received, there was Maria's rage that laid beneath it - a raging, longing, belligerent disappointment.

He looked up at Maria as the silence dragged on. Her breath was coming in short pants as she stood there stiffly, her eyes wide and unreadable. Had his clone been her violent husband? Great. Not only had someone brutally damaged the love of his life, but it had been done with his face?

Michael's stomach lurched in a desperate bid to rid itself of his earlier dinner. His legs folded up underneath him as he crumpled onto the cold tile. He stayed there, cross-legged in the middle of the gallery with his head in his hands, taking deep breaths to calm his rebelling gag reflex. It was as if he had done it, not this Other-Michael. His worst nightmare had been realised; in a twisted way a part of him had turned into Hank after all. His hands had hit her, his face had smirked. Her memory of those raw and unrelenting fists was stuck on repeat as they came down over and over in front of his eyes.

Maria gently sat down opposite him; the paralysis which had trapped had suddenly broken when she saw him collapse. As she held his hand firmly in her own, she rubbed her thumb across his palm in soothing sweeping circular motions.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered. "I should have told you but I didn't know what to say." She laughed a little bitterly, "You must be so angry with me."

Michael flinched at her amusement, hearing the sardonic sounds of a fractured being in every ringing note. He yanked his hand away as her concerned touch seared him. "You shouldn't be sorry. Isn't it obvious to you now how dangerous I am? I did the right thing by leaving."

"But um- that wasn't…"

"It wasn't me, but it could have been! Same DNA, same face, same person." His words were coming out strained and harsh and Maria suspected he was trying not to cry.

"Michael…" Maria breathed, unsure what to say that would make this screwed-up situation better. She hadn't expected him to turn inwards like this, shouting- yes, stuff blowing up- most likely, him wanting to kill Rath or being angry with her – almost definitely. But not this. Not this…internal devastation.

She bit her lip and scooted behind him, ignoring the throb of her butt-cheek against the very cold and hard floor. Angling her body so he was now between her legs, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, attempting to push the love, trust and warmth she felt for him through their physical proximity. If he wouldn't hold her hand then she would have to up her game - full body attack. He jumped slightly but she clung on and he began to relax into her tight embrace.

"Shhh…it wasn't you. He isn't you. You didn't do this." She murmured repeatedly, her lips gently brushing against the smooth and vulnerable skin at the base of his neck. Maria remembered that spot used to drive him crazy, but this wasn't the time to think about the long-ignored tension that rested between her legs.

These words were for comfort. They were not sweet nothings, they were important. She needed them to sink in: she needed him to believe. They rocked gently together as the outside world fell away and time ceased to move, her breath went in and so did his. Her breath went out and so did his. They were one being, one entity and nothing mattered in that moment except making sure Michael knew how she felt about Him. Not Rath. Michael. She knew the difference.

"Michael, I know there's darkness in you. Eight years ago you were quick to believe that you could hurt me and now here you are again, blaming yourself for someone else's actions." She admonished gently, while continuing to hold him close. "You and Rath may share DNA and many other things but you certainly don't share the same upbringing. Unlike Rath, you had Hank show you the worst of humankind every day - the depth of a man's darkness - and because of this you changed. Your temper changed. Whatever darkness you may still have – I would bet my life that you could never harm an innocent."

She bit her lip, awaiting a response, but now more sure than ever that perhaps she and Michael could really work it out. As terrible as she felt about it, she was a little thankful that Michael's life in Santa Fe had not entirely repaired his fractured soul. That scarred and brusque man was the man she had fallen in love with. In a perfect world, neither of them should have gone through such terrible ordeals. Maybe in a parallel universe there was an equally undamaged Maria and undamaged Michael bickering and laughing together, but she was glad she had found him in this one. After everything she had been through she understood him now more than ever before and maybe what Michael really needs in his life is for someone to depend on him for once, for him to kiss away the bruises, rather than the other way around.

Softly, breaking Maria out of her musings, Michael responded with a barely-there, "Ok." His distress had faded slightly as he noticed the position they'd been sitting in. The radiating warmth from Maria's body, her soft breath on the back of his neck, it was beginning to make sitting down in his close-fitting Levi's a little uncomfortable. He tapped her hand, an unspoken signal of needing to get up, and quite ungracefully they attempted to stand once more.

They faced one another. The whole evening had been so highly strung, so overwrought with buried emotion and misplaced blame that when they stood, panting slightly, staring into each other's eyes, they both began to laugh. The whole situation, aliens, abusive clones, Maria on drugs and Michael the artist - it seemed incredible and hysterical. They held on to each other as they laughed away the pain and the worry and the blame.

Michael looked down into her eyes and his laughter faded, it had been a long time since he had seen someone look at him like that – not in a pleading way, or in a predatory way, but someone who saw right through him and still admired who he was. His heart hammered out a drum solo as he brushed his fingers across her face, moving a lock of hair that had tried to join in on the mirth. No matter how often he had painted and sketched her, nothing compared to the real thing. Her lips were full, moist and more inviting than he could ever manage to copy on to canvas. He swept a finger slowly across her lips, causing them to part, her face flushed from the gentle attention and desire sparked beneath through those emerald orbs.

Her gaze fell to his mouth.

He was lost.

Michael lunged forward and so did she. Need spilled out of them, hot, frantic and desperate. Lips met lips and their bodies ignited. The shaking, quivering fervour of their lust, denied for so long, spread through their nerve endings and they were unable to still themselves - unable to think. Maria gasped as Michael's lips suckled the delicate spot on her neck, Michael groaned into her skin as her hands sought for purchase under his clothes and her fingernails scraped his back. Blind with want, he wished for nothing more than to meld his body into hers, to satisfy this feverish craving for his skin against her skin. An inch between them was an inch too far. One of his hands were in her hair, the silky strands releasing her scent, a combination of jasmine and ylang-ylang - sweet and spicy, sent another bolt of heat to his groin, his erection becoming increasingly painful as her body pressed against his.

Then she was gone.

The lack of her body warmth sent a chill across his arms as he watched Maria suddenly rip herself away and take several dazed steps backwards, almost bumping into the display on the wall. Michael panicked, Shit. It was too much. Too soon. For fucks sake, she's only been out of hospital six months after she was raped and you're practically mauling her in public. The idea alone that he may have rushed her or scared her dumped a bucket of ice on his raging hard-on.

Before he could apologise, Maria grabbed him by the hand and started pulling him towards the gallery's entrance. "What Maria? What's wrong?" He asked, concerned by her silence and impatience.

"Flat. Bed. Now." She said shortly and dragged him back out onto the pavement. For a little girl, she sure was strong. The sound of her voice, thick with lust, fanned his own desire back into life and he hastily tried to think of the quickest route home whilst locking the Gallery door.

"Right…errr…..taxi."

Maria's soft giggling and their hushed voices floated down Michael's staircase as Maria ran her hands underneath his t-shirt. Michael desperately wished he had forgotten to lock his flat door, just this once, not able to concentrate on opening the damn thing when she was purring into his ear. He had waited too long, they had waited too long, and by all the deities on this stupid planet, he wasn't going to let a flimsy wooden door stop them now.

He turned, picked up Maria, let her legs wrap around his waist and then kicked the door open, barely moving his lips from hers when he shot out his leg and kicked it closed behind them. Patience wasn't a virtue. Not when it came to this. Eight years of not seeing her beautiful body spread out before him; Eight years of not watching her body flush with pleasure. If he had been any more patient he would have had to join a monastery – or at least a damn Jonas Brothers cult.

He maneuvered them around the furniture and into his bedroom, clumsily dropping her onto the bed. She bounced slightly on the deep blue sheets and laughed, a light tinkling noise that contained none of the bitter notes he'd heard previously. He made her happy. It was this sudden realisation that made him slow his pace, this wasn't some lust-fuelled fumble with a nameless blonde chick, this was Maria. The one girl who he would die for, kill for. The only girl he could imagine, no…the only girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. This was it and he wasn't going to fuck it up this time.

Maria lay down on the bed, allowing his gaze to linger over her as she elongated her body. Propping herself up on her elbows, her eyes were hooded over slightly and appeared to whisper naughty deeds to his subconscious.

His throat was dry. He couldn't believe he was feeling like such a little girl about this, if Rory could see him now, or those other girls he had repeatedly kicked out of bed…

Maria took a deep breath as she watched him move towards her. It was really happening. This was really happening. It had taken all of her sordid experience to appear calm and relaxed in front of him, and not like a cornered animal or easily spooked horse. Michael seemed to be her first for many things, he had been her first boyfriend, her first alien, her first lover and now he was going to be the first person she gave herself to since the ugly mess with Rath. She may have filled out more in the breast department since Michael had seen them but there were far more blemishes and scars too – yet despite a small voice trying to convince her differently – she knew he wouldn't care. She could see in those whiskey brown eyes emotions what appeared to be far greater than love, more fierce than loyalty – what he was offering her was the devotion of a warrior and her heartbeat responded in kind, drumming out that ancient tribal rhythm of when a boy and a girl fall in love.

Their lips met in a gentle brush, the frenzied passion that had overtaken them in the Art Gallery had been quelled to a steady roar. Every inch of her skin felt sensitive, her nerves heightened to the point of breaking. The kiss deepened and the intensity of Michael's emotions swept across her as they fit perfectly into each other. His hands, god his artistic nimble hands, they swept under her top and smoothly removed it over her head, as hers deftly undid his belt. Michael stopped for a moment and just stared at her bra-clad torso. She forced her eyes not to waver from his piercing stare, and her body not to bolt from the bed, biting her lip in defiance of her jangled nerves.

He let out a breath in one big whoosh and ran a hand through his light spiky hair, "God, Maria, the things you do to me. " He muttered and Maria flushed at the compliment. Just knowing how she affected him was all she needed to pull him back to her, their pace sped up ever so slightly, as if to reclaim that small window of wasted time.

Michael bit back a moan as her hands returned to his belt, he hoped that by pulling away it had calmed himself down considerably, otherwise this perfect night was going to be over sooner than he would like. He loved how her eyelids fluttered when he ran his thumb lightly across her breast, how she would arch her back into his caress, utterly abandoned to the moment. They spent hours re-acquainting themselves with each other's bodies; the intense sensuality was nothing they had ever experienced before. When they finally merged together it was with an almost religious fervour which made the world spin at a dizzying pace, until finally the universe exploded.

Michael held her tightly in his arms and the feeling of loss; the sensation of a ghostly absence like a limb had been banished. He knew their conversations and drama weren't over, there was a lot to work through but for now - he was finally content. He kissed her forehead as she sleepily lay draped across his chest and he fell into the most restful slumber he had ever experienced.

Authors Note:

Hopefully it hasn't been too long for you for this part. Quicker than others have been ;) I kept going over and over this one, wanting it to be as best as I could make it - I'm still not too sure, so if you think its rushed let me know. I did think about just leaving it and going back to the other Roswellians lives but I couldn't be that cruel. The next part will focus on them and maybe a few more surprises in store...

Kit147 - Don't worry I tend to lurk myself so I understand, good to know you've been enjoying it I always appreciate hearing comments :) I too am a candygirl at heart (as you may be able to tell) and I think I will always be.

Ana - Heh yeah they're all a little twisted in some way or another. I think the point is that many believed if Michael left he would be the one who fell apart in the outside world, but as we saw from him being emancipated and working jobs, when given the chance he's the most stable.

ValentineBabe - I hurried as quick as my uni workload would let me. Hope it wasn't too long :) I'm off for a month so fingers crossed I can pump out a few more parts by the time I go back.

Liz - Haha I'm glad I can hook a few people. I can't believe the fic has been going for so long, I'm so happy you liked it and I hope you enjoyed this part too. (and that the suspense didn't really kill you )!

Andie2313 - Don't you worry, Maria/Rath stuff will be coming and I'll be looking at more flashbacks and the other Roswellian dynamics as well. Thanks for the feedback!

Ti88 - What can I say but how much I look forward to your feedback every chapter! I'm pleased you liked it, and I agree about Liz - I felt that she put him under a lot of unnecessary pressure. Something I'd hoped to show through the flashbacks.

Magi343 - Thanks for the feedback, good to know that my attempt at suspense is working :)