Title: Crumbling Down
Part: 1
Author: Kathryn
Email: Practicallyperfect@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: I don't own, although I wish I did.
Summary: Preview for Independence Day I guess, even though I haven't seen past Into The Woods.
Category: Michael/Maria
Rating: PG-13
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The door to the trailer slammed shut behind Hank as he stormed out, rotating between yelling and muttering obscenities. The lady who lived near them yelled for them to be quiet. Michael heard Hank get into the truck, and drive off. Then all was silent. All was still. He couldn't hear anything except the sound of his own labored breathing in the night. Michael Guerin was crouched over in the corner on the trailer park, trying to ignore the blinding pain that coursed through his body. Right now, death felt like a welcome escape. This was the second time it had happened this had. The second time that Hank had come home drunk. The second time that he had gotten angry and proceeded to beat the crap out of his son. The second time Michael was hurt so bad he could barely move. The funny thing was, this wasn't like him. He was strong, he was tough, he was a stone wall. He was a renegade. He didn't take crap from anyone. But, it all amounted to nothing when it came to Hank. He couldn't hit back. Normally, the most amount of pain that he felt after one of Hank's beatings was emotional pain, not physical pain. Before, it was just him going at it with his fist, not sober or drunk enough to do much damage. He would be in pain because Hank didn't love him, Hank didn't want him, hell Hank didn't even give a damn about him. That was all that used to hurt. The fact that he wasn't even good enough for a boozer. Recently that changed. Hank had gotten more violent. he had moved away from his hands and used things from around the apartment. That was why Michael had gone to school on Tuesday with a black eye and cuts and bruises all over his body. Some that people could see, others that people couldn't. The teachers didn't even inquire, just chalked it up to some gang fight.
He let Max and Isabel in on the truth when they wouldn't leave him alone. He told them what his life was really like, why he showed up at Max's bedroom window most nights just to get away. But they didn't understand. How could he really expect him to though. They didn't know what it was like to be hit, to submit yourself to that. They demanded he leave, call child services, something. But, he couldn't. What they didn't understand was that Hank was all he had. That's why he couldn't hit back either. As much of a bastard as he was, Hank was the only father he had ever known. Like Mr. Evans had shaped Max and Isabel, so had Hank shaped Michael. This was why fight after fight, Michael never struck back, he just stood there and took it like a man.
Right now the pain was too much though. Michael was barely able to stand and make his way over to the couch. He lay down there, although the springs in the worn out couch hurt the bruises on his back. There would be no escape tonight, no going over to Max's to get away from it all. He couldn't let them see him like this again. It couldn't happen.
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The night sky was full of stars and distant planets as Michael managed to shimmy his way up the tree to the window by the side of the house. He knocked on the bedroom window, trying to get the attention of the person inside. Maria opened her drapes, yawning, obviously having just been awakened. When she saw Michael her eyes opened wide. She opened the window quickly to let him in. Michael scrambled into her room. She didn't even bother to shut the window, just turned to him and touched the long cut running along his his cheek. It was the only facial mark from this encounter, but it was enough. "What happened Michael?" Maria demanded, dropping her hand and looking up at him. "Why are you here?"
He averted his eyes from hers, not able to look her in the face, "I needed a place to come," he said by way of explanation, avoiding her question. She just nodded, doing something he didn't think she would, accepting the fact that he didn't want to talk about it, or couldn't. He fiddled with the neck of the sweater he had pulled on to cover up the bruises, it was itchy over the scrapes. He was uncomfortable under her scrutinous gaze. "So, are you planning on staying the rest of the night?" Maria asked pointedly, still not looking away from him. He nodded, saying softly, "If it's okay." She nodded in response. "Yeah, okay. Just let me go get some antiseptic and a bandage for that cut." Michael nodded again, it seemed to be the only thing he could do. He was relieved when Maria finally dropped her intense gaze and left the bedroom. He glanced at the floor where he assumed he'd be sleeping. It looked hard, unyielding. It looked painful. Maria came back into the room. She carried antiseptic and gauze. He stood patiently as she cleansed the wound and bandaged it. She had a pleasant odour. In fact her whole room smelled nice. Well, he guessed anything was better than the smell of vodka. When she was done. He didn't say anything. Just waited for her to make the next move. It was he who had come barging in on her, but he didn't know what to say. Didn't know what he wanted. "It's a big bed," she said finally, cutting into his thoughts. "We can share if you'd like."
"You sure?" he asked calmly, knowing he wouldn't fight it. He didn't want the floor. "You just keep to your side of the bed space-boy and we'll be fine," she quipped, trying for some normalcy. But tonight was different, and they both felt it. There was no antagonism. Maria slid into her side of the bed. Michael stood, hesitating for a moment. He wanted to take off his sweater to avoid sweating like a pig, but it covered up everything. If she saw it would raise too many questions he wasn't prepared to answer. In the end, he slid into his side of the bed, fully clothed. He laid in his back, trying to decide which would be the least painful position to sleep in. Not that it really mattered, it just hurt all over. Maria lay on her back as well, staring up at the ceiling, resisting all the temptations to look over at Michael. He was here, although she wasn't sure why. She accepted he didn't want to talk, although it was against her better judgment. He needed a place, and she would give him one. She heard him abruptly roll into his side, away from her. She took the risk to glance over at his figure. His t-shirt and sweater has risen up to reveal the lower portion of his back. It revealed the bruises and scars that covered him, the markings he had tried to keep hidden from her. Maria covered her mouth to stop the emotions from pouring out. Michael squeezed his eyes shut as he lay curled up on his side. This was wrong, this was all wrong. He shouldn't be here. Not in Maria's bedroom, not in Roswell, not on earth. But he was. He was here, like it or not. And he was stuck here. Stuck with the hand fate had dealt him. There would be no escape from the reality that was his life. He would go to school, be ignored or be ridiculed. He would come home, and suffer at the hands of his father. Michael did accept that Hank was his father, there would be no alien from a distant planet coming to rescue him. He would live through it, and he would live through it alone. An outsider on the rest of the world. That was his destiny. The tears sprang to Michael's eyes unbidden. For a moment he didn't know what they were. He had never cried. Never. He tried desperately to blink them back, not to let them fall. He would not let the desperate nature of his life get to him. He was strong, he was invincible, he was a stone wall. The tears began to stream down his cheeks, and he let out a sob before he could stop himself. Michael Guerin the untouchable was crying. Crying for God's sake. This wasn't supposed to happen. he wasn't supposed to feel. Michael felt Maria's arm wrap around him from behind. He didn't turn around to face her, he couldn't look at her face right now. Her arm pressed on one of his wounds though and he took in a sharp gasp of pain through his tears. She lightened her hold, but held him none the less letting him pour out the pain and the rage through his tears. She didn't do anything, just held him to her as he let it all out. The tears disappeared as fast as they had come, and Michael was left hiccuping in the darkness, still afraid to face her. He didn't want to see the look in her eyes. Pity or condemnation would be there, and he didn't want to see either. Maria got him to sit up on the side of the bed. he could feel her frustration as he still refused to look at her. He just sat there, still as a statue as she removed his sweater and t-shirt. He knew what she was seeing. He knew how horrible it looked. He had looked at himself in the bathroom mirror before coming over, and he knew it was horrendous. Correction, he was horrendous. Michael felt her cool hands smooth themselves over the wounds across his back and shoulders. They were gentle and soft and made him want to cry some more. Those hands that were just touching him made him feel hundreds of times more better than any of Max's healing powers. Michael then felt a kiss, soft as rain, on his shoulder It wasn't much, but for him right now, it was enough. All the fear has left me now I'm not frightened anymore. It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh. it's my mouth that pushes out this breath
And if I shed a tear I won't cage it.
I won't fear love and if I feel a rage I won't deny it. I won't fear love
He finally turned around to face her. As he looked into the depths of her eyes, Michael knew being here was a mistake. But, right now it didn't matter. He needed her, he needed someone. She cared. Whether she should or not, she did Companion to our demons they will dance and we will play. With chairs candles and clothes making darkness in the day. It will be easy to look in or out upstream or down without a thought
And if I shed a tear I won't cage it.
I won't fear love and if I feel a rage I won't deny it. I won't fear love.
Michael saw no pity or condemnation in her eyes. Nothing but compassion and caring. She didn't look down upon him. Unlike any other single person in Roswell, including his father, she thought he was good enough. To her, he mattered. Michael did something he had denied himself for the longest time. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. She didn't pull away as he feared she would. Instead, she put her hands on the back of his head and returned the kiss. Peace in the struggle to find peace. Comfort on the way to comfort.
And if I shed a tear I won't cage it.
I won't fear love and if I feel a rage I won't deny it I won't fear love. I won't fear
love. I won't fear love...
Michael let the emotions in himself free. The confusion, the depth of caring he felt for her, it all rushed out in that single kiss. He didn't want to hold back from her. He wanted to be one with her, become complete. He wanted to have someone with him, as a part of his life. The stone wall that was Michael Guerin had come crumbling down. The words he wanted to say to her were on the tip of his tongue. Words he had never said to another human being in his life. He wanted to tell her, wanted to make her understand. Michael was actually willing to tell her how he felt......
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Michael Guerin walked up the steps to Roswell high slowly. He had gotten Max to heal the scar on his face this morning, giving him some phony excuse which Max had bought entirely. He didn't let him see the rest of the wounds of course, which were still fresh on his body. Michael braced himself against the railing on the stairs up to the school entrance for a moment. It hurt so bad, he didn't know now he was going to make it through the day. Just inside the doors he saw Maria standing there, conversing with Liz and Alex. They were laughing and joking. She was completely unaware he was dying out here, and that was the way it should be. This morning he had half expected to wake up in her bedroom. Imagine how disappointed he was when he opened his eyes to see the roof of the trailer and hank passed out at the kitchen table. Last night had been a dream. He hadn't gone to Maria's. He hadn't become an emotional fool over her. Never mind that it had felt good in the dream, it didn't happen and wouldn't. in real life she probably wouldn't even let him within 10 meters of her house. He had dreamed himself an escape, and escape that wasn't really there. He was Michael Guerin, son of Hank Guerin. He had his path in life carved out for him. She would never know, and never should. As the bell rang to signal the warning to get to class, Michael tried to stand on his feet. Students rushed by him to get to class on time, none even paying him the least attention. He watched Maria wave to Liz and Alex and start to make her way to class. He watched her continue her happy existence that was clueless to him. Because he was completely alone. And he didn't care. Really.
THE END