Elevation

Rating : R (for language)
Summary : Maria and Michael come to a new understanding when forced to occupy the same small space.
Author's Notes : Written in response to the blackout challenge. I lived through it, wasn't stuck in an elevator, but felt all of their frustration. It takes place during "Ch-Ch-Changes".

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Elevation

For Bev, who saves me from darkness…

His foot bounced against the worn carpet as he waited for the elevator to arrive, a soft whirr signaling its ascent. If it took any longer he swore he was going to take the stairs, all twenty flights.

Or maybe he'd just jump—it'd be faster.

"Could this thing go any slower?" he muttered, reaching out to jab the already lit button forcefully.

"Chill," a soft voice commanded from beside him. "It's hot, the A/C's draining power. I'd rather walk than have no air."

Michael snapped his head to stare at the tiny girl standing beside him; he hadn't expected her to leave with him after the show he'd just put on in her presence.

Maria stared back steadily, the silence between them punctured only by the cries of long-since oiled pulleys as the elevator crept painstakingly up the core of the building.

"I thought you were staying," he said sharply.

She shrugged, "I'm done."

"With the music?"

Her eyes narrowed as she pursed her lips at his comment. "With something," she replied, turning her head to stare at the closed doors before her, suddenly wishing she hadn't followed him.

"Of course," he scoffed, jabbing the button another five times as he cursed beneath his breath.

"Will you stop?" she snapped. "Jesus. First you display your maturity in there and now you're out here acting like a brat."

"A brat you like to f-uck."

"Oh my God!" she squealed. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"And I can't believe you're going to New York. We're even."

Maria gaped at her ex-boyfriend, witnessing the vein pulsing in his neck that always signaled an impending eruption of Mount Guerin but not possessing the effort to care. Asking Dominique if she thought she'd found a star or just a burned out sparkler had been one thing, but throwing their impulsive romp into the mix was just low.

"Listen pal-o," she started, jabbing her finger into his shoulder as she began her rant.

"Pal-o?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow in her general direction as he ground his teeth and kicked the wall housing the elevator call button.

"All right… listen asshole," she corrected, smirking at him as he hit his toe a little too hard on the wall and swore again. "Our little f-uck-fest was just that—f-ucking. If you're gonna throw it in my face every time we're in a room together you should have kept little Mikey in his cage."

"I seem to remember you reaching your hand in his cage long before he came out to play, or was that just another of those delusions I obviously seem to be suffering from," Michael spat, moving away from her finger as it continued its incessant poking.

Dropping her guitar case on the floor, she raised both hands in front of her, index fingers extended as she moved in to attack him. "Why do you…" she growled, pointing at his chest.

"Oh, stop, please," Michael deadpanned, raising his arms in surrender. "It's the attack of the evil fingers, save me."

Pushing her hands aside, he reached for the elevator button one more time when it suddenly arrived and he cursed yet again, this time in evident relief.

Growling at his childishness, Maria grabbed her guitar from its place on the floor and followed him into the otherwise vacant enclosure. It was just as the doors were sliding shut that she realized she probably should have waited for the next car.

"Can we please just be civil and get through the next few weeks?" she asked as he punched the button marked 'G' and the ancient car creaked ever slowly downward.

He shrugged, muttering a muffled, "Whatever."

"Then I'll be gone and you'll never have to f-uck me again."

His eyes blazed as he worked his jaw and fought to bite back his reply. She thought this was about sex? Good. Better she think that then know the real reason.

"Fine with…" he started to say just as a bone-shattering shudder began in his feet and swelled upwards through his legs, torso, arms. Before he could make sense of what was happening, some instinctual urge that he would later vehemently deny pushed him vaulting across the miniscule space to grab after her shocked body.

Crashing into the wood paneled wall with enough force to leave them both breathless, Michael bowed his head over top of hers, valiantly trying to protect her from whatever attack was obviously being mounted against them.

As quickly as it had started, the shuddering stopped, the descending car sliding to a stop just as an audible whoosh signaled the power dying around them. The entire event had taken only seconds to play out, but to the pair huddled in the corner it seemed to continue interminably, their hearts racing against each other in a contest to see who could win the race of the freaked.

"Mmph," a soft voice moaned in the tiny space, piercing the roar of silence.

"Maria," Michael rushed, raising his head to peer blindly into the inky blackness. "You okay?"

"Mmph," she repeated, pushing her pinned arms against his chest as she fought to right herself into a full standing position. "I will be when you get off of me, you big oaf!"

"Wha… I saved you!" Michael exclaimed, stumbling backwards so that he had no sense of where she stood, only that she was somewhere in front of him… or was that to his side.

Her voice caused him to whirl around as it surprised him from behind, muttering, "Oh yeah, my hero… the first sign of danger and he decides I'd be safer not breathing… thanks."

Michael turned and stretched his arms out in front of him as he followed the sound of her voice. "You were freaked, admit it," he snarled, taking a tentative step forward before he heard a loud clang off to his left and spun in that direction.

"Please," she drawled, cursing as she knocked her knee against the wall while she bent down to explore the emergency telephone case with probing fingers. "You squealed like a little pig."

"I… what the…!" he exclaimed suddenly, his words paired with a loud crash.

The sound sent her spinning around to sit with her back pressed against the wall as Michael fought off an unseen enemy in the blinding blackness.

"Michael?" she asked hesitantly, unsure what had just happened and starting to not like the loss of a sense she had never fully appreciated.

"Holy, f-ucking, Snapple-lovin' Jesus Christ," he swore, yelping in pain again as yet another loud thud was heard.

"Uh… Michael?" she asked again, this time laughter evident in her voice as she realized he wasn't in danger, just clumsy. "You… you okay?" she gasped, holding her stomach as she waited for him to stop cursing long enough to right himself.

"Do I sound f-ucking okay?" he snarled, pushing against the floor with stinging palms as he sat up somewhere in the middle of the elevator car.

"Well…" she started, unable to finish as peels of laughter resonated throughout the small space.

Ignoring her insensitivity, he reached out in front of him to first test that he still had two functioning legs, then moved his hands to the side to feel along the unexpected obstacle. Realizing what it was, he pushed it forcibly across the floor, muttering, "God damn guitar."

An eerily familiar thump was heard as the case knocked against her legs and she squealed, "Hey!"

"Serves you right," he growled.

"For what?" she cried. "You're the one stupid enough to go running around in the pitch dark."

"I wasn't running around."

"Well I managed to make it all the way over here without landing on my a-ss," she teased.

"If you hadn't pushed me away, I would have known where the f-ucking wall was," he countered.

"If you weren't so friggin' conceited you would have stayed on your own side of the stupid elevator when it stopped. Saving me… psh…"

"Fine! See if I ever do it again!" he roared.

"Fine! And stay on your own side this time," she yelled in response.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Huffing quietly, Michael pushed himself backwards until he hit a wall, not knowing exactly where she was in respect to him, just that she wasn't touching him and he couldn’t see her, good enough.

Now thoroughly pissed, Maria turned where she sat and continued the process of searching out an emergency phone or power source, her fingers just brushing over the receiver when a low rumble was heard and suddenly the car was bathed in a weak light.

"Let there be light," she murmured, picking up the handset without a second glance towards Michael.

"You didn't cause that," he grumbled.

"Shut up," she tossed, clicking the lone button on the cradle intently.

Refusing to watch her, Michael let his eyes roam about their new home. It couldn't have been more than five feet wide by about four feet deep. Eight feet up and that was all the space they had… he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"S-hit," Maria swore, bringing his attention crashing back to her as she slammed the receiver into its box and pushed away from the wall. "Doesn't work," she muttered.

"F-uck," he panted, running a hand through his hair as his eyes widened and he wondered how many floors they had passed before stopping.

"No big," she shrugged, settling back against the wall directly opposite him. "I'm sure this happens all the time."

"Calm much?" he muttered as he rose to his feet, stopping to rub his knee from where he had collided unceremoniously with the floor before walking towards her.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

He ignored her, instead hurriedly jabbing random buttons on the wall panel.

"Stop it!" she chastised, swiping at his leg to get his attention.

He continued in his quest, beads of sweat breaking out along his brow as he slammed his palm into the console over and over, cursing as no response was evident.

"Hey!" she yelped, rising along the wall to reach after his hands. "Michael, stop it!" she urged, trying to grab his arms in a feeble attempt to stop him.

When he continued without pause, she slid her body into the path of his arms, getting a solid hit in the stomach before he realized that the object of his rage had changed and blinked at her dumbly.

"Hey," she repeated, this time much softer, reaching up to place both of her hands around his right arm as he stared blankly at her. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly, massaging his forearm as he jerked to pull it out of her grasp.

"Emergency… button," he mumbled, staring at her for a moment as he felt his heart pulsing in his throat. Watching her eyes narrow in concern, he realized that he was freaking her out along with himself and gave up on trying to call someone else to help them. Pulling away from her, he moved to the closed doors and raised his hands to place them flat against the surface. His eyes closed in concentration as he willed the barrier to open, summoning uncontrolled snatches of power from deep within as his hands glowed slightly and he grunted from the effort.

She watched him move aside, thankful for a moment that she had calmed him before she saw what he was trying to do and the inherent danger in his actions. "Michael!" she said loudly, watching as she successfully distracted him long enough for his eyes to open and his hands to lose their newfound color.

Moving in to block his new target, she placed her hands on his shoulders and shook them forcibly. "Hey, blockhead!" she called, wincing as she thought this probably wasn't the time to be calling him names. "Breathe, okay?" she said a little softer, locking her eyes with his as she willed him to calm.

"I can't," he mumbled, resisting her hold to reach back for the doors. "Got to open them… get out…"

"Whoa, big boy," she argued, wrapping her hands around his arm as he moved to push past her again. "You aren't going anywhere near those doors with your paws."

"Let go," he snapped, looking down at her as the temperature in their new home increased another five degrees.

Her eyes were swimming in pools of pain and he felt all function stop as he realized what she was afraid of—him.

"You aren't in control," she pleaded, assuaging him with her words while her hand matched the effort against his arm.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, softening his voice just a little to ease her fear.

"No," she said surely, shaking her head.

"But we can't…" he objected, his eyes darting between hers and the only exit as he felt his throat tighten.

"Yes," she said softly, stepping backwards to pull him away from the doors. "We can," she continued, smiling as he followed her shakily. Leaning against the back wall for support, she lowered herself to the floor, pulling him down beside her. "We can just stay here and wait for them to find us," she assured him.

It was obvious that he was far from believing her and she added, "Which they will."

He nodded unsurely, letting his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud as he realized that she was still holding his hand in her lap. Moving to extract it, he stopped when he felt her gentle tug to keep it in place.

"No," she said quickly, biting her lip as she saw him turn his head towards her in confusion. "I don't want to lose you again."

He hesitated, searching her face before shaking his head and affirming, "I think it's a generator, we should be…"

"It's not losing you in the dark that I'm afraid of," she added softly.

Her implication hit him hard, physically moving him backwards as he leaned heavily against the wall and focused intently on their intertwined hands. His heart increased to an impossible speed, fueled now both by his claustrophobia and her admission of not being so repulsed by him that she would rather die than be trapped in here.

"I don't… are you sure that's such a good idea?" he mumbled beneath his breath.

"That… what?" she asked, already knowing what he meant and cursing herself for leading him to that conclusion.

"Nothing, I…"

"Michael, no," she whispered, turning to sit perpendicular to him, gripping his hand tighter as she cradled it in her lap. "I still don't think we should be together, but I do…"

"Forget it," he said stiffly, successfully removing himself from her clutches as he reclaimed his hand.

"Don't, I… please," she cried softly, reaching after him even as he pushed himself further away along the floor.

He resorted to ignoring her again, dropping his head back against the wall and closing his eyes as the walls of the car crept ever closer. He could have sworn that what was five feet only a minute ago was now three, soon they'd be on top of each other, then he'd have to…

No… he wasn't going to think about being anywhere near her; not now, not ever again. The fact that they were trapped in a cell with only inches separating them was nothing; it didn't mean that he had to look at her, it didn't mean that he had to touch her, and it certainly didn't mean that he had to kiss her.

"Michael."

She was saying his name, he hated it when she said his name.

"Michael, please look at me."

There was no way he could.

"Please?"

What, she was reduced to begging now? He could get used to this.

"Fine then, be a brat," she snapped, and he heard her slam her body back against the wall.

"I'm not a brat," he muttered, cursing himself for not being able to withstand her taunts.

"Yes you are. Things don't go your way and you refuse to compromise, it's your way or the highway and I'm not putting up with it."

"You don't have to," he growled. "You already chose highway."

Opening his eyes into mere slits, he watched her face crease in anger before beginning the slow assent into full-fledged rage.

Oh boy, this was going to get good.

"Listen… asshole," she said, echoing her earlier statement with a satisfied smile on her lips. "You haven't exactly been boyfriend of the century, you know? You left me how many times—two, three, five? I stopped taking count. I decide I need a break once, once , in three years and you won't even talk to me?"

Pausing, she breathed in heavily before continuing her miniature tirade. "If you want to be alone so bad, why aren't you out celebrating?"

"Maybe 'cause I'm stuck in here with you," he mumbled, shutting his eyes once more against her attack.

"Not now, you stupid jerk!" she screamed, flailing her arms towards him as she attacked him physically as well as verbally. "Today, yesterday, all the days since we broke up when you've been fawning over me instead of getting on with…"

Fighting to grab both of her arms, Michael knew he'd get more than one bruise as she repeatedly made contact with her target. Finally securing his hold on each arm, he gripped them tightly as he forced his face in front of hers.

"Maybe 'cause I love you, okay?" he said firmly, shaking her arms within his hands as he seethed pure emotion towards her.

She went limp at his words, ceasing all movement, all resistance, all breath as he stared her down and she knew that he was telling the truth.

"I love you," he repeated, dropping his hands, still clutching hers, to the join of their legs. "And I want you to be happy."

"That's not… you don't mean that," she argued weakly, knowing he did but unable to accept it.

Not surprised at her disbelief, he shook his head and diverted his eyes down to stare at the physical meeting of their bodies. "I do. If you find happy in New York, then I think you should go to New York. And if you find happy in singing, then I think you should sing." Shrugging, he paused before finishing softly, "Maybe one day you'll find happy with me, and then you can be with me, but not now… and I really mean that."

No words were available for her to speak and she could only stare through water-filled portals at his bowed head. Detaching one arm from his hold was easy as his hands lay lax in her lap. Her body shook as she raised it, landing it softly on his cheek as he flinched beneath the touch and she almost jerked away.

"Michael," she breathed.

"Don't," he murmured, his head remaining locked in the bowed position, the view of their arms and legs a much safer bet than what her face must surely display.

"Look at me," she begged softly.

He could only shake his head.

Smiling, she leaned into the gesture slowly, pushing against his cheek as she watched his eyes trail up and across her body, finally settling somewhere close to her head.

"Please," she continued, leaning in to trap his gaze within hers, allowing him to see the emotions he elicited on her face. "I really thought this would be okay," she started hesitantly, watching him search her face for the final point.

She wondered if she had the strength to make it.

"I know I was the one that broke it off, but," she stopped as she saw the pain her statement brought to his eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be."

The break in the conversation was enough to allow him to escape her hold as he moved back against the wall again, still staring at her but not allowing himself any physical contact.

She shivered visibly at the loss of him.

Swallowing thickly, she pushed onward, "I know you didn't want it, but I really thought it'd be good for you too. You could focus on finding out more about home, if there was another way to go back."

"You really think I want to go back?" he asked, his voice soft, but sharp.

"I… I…" she stammered, shrugging her shoulders as she stumbled over her thoughts. "I… no," she concluded, frowning as she realized that she'd always known this.

"You haven't wanted to go for a while."

"Not since I stayed," he confirmed.

"Michael, God, I'm so sorry," she sobbed suddenly, the strain of holding back her emotions too much as she released them into the cramped space. "I never wanted not to be with you, I just thought I needed to not; that I had to be on my own to find out who I was. And I was searching, I really was, but there was this little voice inside that told me something was missing and so I looked, to music… and I thought I found it and everything would be okay, but now…"

He could only stare as his love broke before him.

"Now I know that I already had what I needed."

He closed his eyes.

She cried.

He could never stand to hear her cry.

"Come here," he whispered roughly, opening his eyes to reach out for her. She reacted instinctively, curling against him as she soaked his shirt and made it obvious that she wasn't backing down from her admission.

She loved him, everything else was all a mistake.

Michael let his eyes drift close as he massaged her back in slow circles. This wasn't a life-changing breakthrough, she was still moving to New York, he was going to make her, but she'd go with the knowledge that he'd be here waiting. And who knew, maybe he'd convince Max to cut the apron strings long enough to let him take a trip out to visit her. It wasn't the stuff that fairytale romances were made of, but then he'd never been much for the Cinderella story anyway.

"Shh," he murmured against her hair. "It'll be okay."

"Will… will it?" she hiccupped, lying spent against his chest as soft sobs continued to escape her body.

"Yeah, isn't it always?"

She let his words sift through her brain, bringing the memories of their life together rushing to the surface. It had been fiery, dangerous, heart-wrenching, hard… but it had never been okay, not in all the years that they'd loved had she ever thought that they were just 'okay'.

They needed a much more powerful word to describe their love, okay was simply too weak.

"No," she whispered, feeling his body stiffen beneath her as she tried to soothe him with a gentle hand over his heart. Pushing herself to make the point she'd been struggling to find for an hour, she continued, "It's so much more than that. It's everything, it's us, and I would never want it to be just okay."

He smiled as he took in her words, pulling her a little tighter to his body as they let silence speak all they needed to say. Maybe she was right, maybe it was weird and strange and different, but it was them, and no matter what she said, as long as she was in his arms, he was still going to call it okay.