Finding Ulysses

Title: Finding Ulysses
Author: Peachykin
Rating: PG for now will go NC-17
Pairing: Mi/L
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. Unfortunately Katims did and now we're all just cleaning up his mess.
Spoliers: None
Summary:Six years after Graduation, Michael's got someone on his mind.



Chapter 1

Michael looked down at his watch reading the late hour then turned his attentions to nearly deserted bar. There were a few stragglers sharing old stories or drowning their sorrows hoping to find salvation in at the bottom of a shot glass. The band had played their last set two hours earlier and the sad haunting voice of Billie Holliday serenaded the lonely souls that had picked the bar as company.

"Hey Sweet, " Michael elbowed the old African-American bartender, "Better make this last call."

"Got a hot date Boss man?" The much older man asked him, knowing already what the younger man’s answer would be.

Michael grinned, "Only with my pillow, Sweet."

The old man chuckled, "Son, I still say you’re too young to have the blues." His graveled voice drawling.

Michael slapped his weathered friend on the back, "And I still say you haven’t walked a mile in my shoes, Sweet."

"Never could. You walk around in boats there, Boss." Sweet returned, with a hearty chuckle, before letting out a loud whistle and announcing the night’s last call.

"When are gonna stop calling me Boss, Sweet? I hate that." Michael said with a smile, moving his lips to Sweet’s standard reply.

"I call you three things. Michael, cause that’s the name God gave ya. Son, because hell boy I’m a good forty years older than you. And Boss, because that what you are, my boss. Now unless any of those things change, that’s what I’m gonna call you." He informed Michael, before taking a few final orders.

Michael shook his head laughing. Never in his life did he ever think anyone would be calling him, "Boss". But here he stood behind a bar, twenty-four years old and the proud owner and proprietor of Ulysses. It was a small, but moderately successful bar just off Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Hank Guerin had one thing right about his boy; he made a helluva barman.

It had been six years since he’d left Roswell with his small family: Max, Isabel, Kyle, Maria and Liz. And it had been five years since he left the group, cutting all his ties. Life in the group had become too confined, too controlled and he was dying. Max had Liz, and while Isabel had loved Jesse, they couldn’t make their marriage work under such stressful conditions. But Michael felt she had Kyle to lean on.

Maria had left him, them, only two months before he had decided to leave. He should have known their relationship would never survive the hardships, the constant moving, the odd jobs, and the uncertainty. In the end they parted as friends, but he knew it was the last time they’d ever see each other. Surprisingly he was okay with it.

The only ones who seemed to be thriving, at least outwardly, in their life on the run had been Max and Liz, or moreover, Max. He loved their life no matter where it seemed to take them, but Michael knew it was only because Max finally had Liz. They’d been so damn happy after their wedding it nearly made Michael sick, but as the months wore on Michael began to see a change in Liz, and not for the better.

Michael started to sense a sadness about Liz about six months into their departure from Roswell. Maybe she was missing her folks or the life of a small town girl. Maybe she resented missing out on Harvard and the opportunities she could have had with that kind of education. Maybe it was all those things. Max had promised to make her dreams come true; he’d even said it in their vows. But Michael couldn’t help but feel that somehow, not intentionally, Max had taken away those dreams.

What threw Michael was that even now nearly five years later he was still thinking about the dying light in Liz’s eyes. Maybe it had been the confined space they’d been forced to share in that first year, but Michael found himself caring about Liz. Not in a romantic way, or at least not that he’d admit to, but as a person.

In the two months before Michael left, he and Liz started talking about nothing and everything. They had helped each other through the finality of Maria’s departure, both finding acceptance in her reasons and while they would miss her, envied her freedom and her bold pursuit of her dreams.

Michael never told anyone he was leaving. No long letter explaining his regrets or reasons. Not even a damn post-it note. He hadn’t even told Liz how he was feeling. He never told anyone that. He simply packed his bags late one night, throwing everything he owned into the beat-up Nova he’d bought a few months earlier, and crept out of the house he shared with the remaining group.

He’d just thrown the last bag in when he caught Liz out of the corner of his eye standing on the bottom porch step. She looked so small and weary standing there wearing her worn cotton robe. Michael approached her with a guilty look on his face.
"I…" he started to say looking away nervously, but Liz just shook her head.

"I just wanted a chance to say goodbye, Michael." She whispered, her voice catching with emotion.

Michael met her eyes, finding they had tears welled inside them, for him, and while it broke his heart, he was confused, "You aren’t gonna try and stop me?"

"Why would I?" she asked as though he should know, then let a smile touch the corners of her mouth, "Like you’d listen?"

"I might." He found himself saying. He’d been so sure only minutes before that he could leave and never look back, but seeing Liz cry, over him, he felt his resolve crumble.

"I won’t lie to you Michael, part of me wants you to stay." She sighed in resignation, "But you have nothing holding you here. You’re stifled, living the life Max has chosen for you instead of the one you want. We envied Maria her freedom, now you have a real chance at it. How can I not let you go?"

Michael felt a lump forming in his own throat. Liz wasn’t giving him her permission to leave, she was giving him her blessing and in a way her hope that he could live the life she’d given up to be with Max, "Why do I feel the need to ask you to come with me?" he said scratching his eyebrow.

"Because you know I’m not happy." Liz stated bluntly.

Michael’s eyes widened at her words. He’d been sensing it, but she never said it out loud, now there it was. "Liz… you could…"

Liz shook her head, "You need to find your own path Michael, without me, or Max, or Isabel…or anyone. If I came with you Max would be after us and we’d still be on the run. I couldn’t do that to you. That’s not freedom. That’s not what you deserve."

Michael knew she was right, but he hated it. He wanted to take the girl, who’d become such a good friend to him, away from a life he knew was killing her, but she was right. If he was ever going to find his place in the world, he’d have to do it on his own.

He nodded at her looking back at the Nova then the house, "I…uh, didn’t leave a note or anything. I didn’t know what to say." He told her.

Liz returned his nod, hugging her arms around her body for warmth, "Probably best. They’d all read into it what they wanted to, twist it to fit their needs. You know why your leaving and so do I."

"That’s enough for me." Michael told her.
There was a long silence as they stood in the cold night air prolonging their goodbye, once again feeling the finality of it. Liz finally spoke, breaking the quiet of the moment, "Just promise me you won’t look back, Michael. If you do, you’ll just get sucked back in. Please?"

Michael nodded, but it bothered him, "Liz if you hate it, why are you staying?" he asked boldly.

"For better or worse, Michael." She offered lamely, seeing him roll his eyes she dropped her hands to her sides, "I forgot what my dreams were and I’m not brave like you."

"Yes you are Liz." Michael said unconsciously bringing his hand up to brush away the tear that had fallen down her cheek. "And when you figure that out, you come find me."

Liz smiled for him, but Michael saw the doubt in her eyes and feared for her. He knew if she waited too long she’d lose whatever was left of her in Max’s dreams and that would be the worst crime in the world.

"You better go, Michael." She whispered a sob catching in her throat.

Michael wrapped his arms around the tiny woman only the second time he’d ever done so. He didn’t want this to be goodbye. He didn’t want to lose their friendship and the undercurrent of love he knew would grow stronger if he stayed.

Uncharacteristic tears fell down Michael’s face as he held Liz’s sobbing frame, but he didn’t feel the need to wipe them away. He wanted her to see that this wasn’t easy for him. Leaving her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. Because no matter how stifled and confined he felt living in the confines of their group, in those two months after Maria had left and until that moment, he’d begun to feel he’d found a home, in Liz.

"Thank you." Michael said, holding her face in his large hands. Liz knew he was thanking her for her friendship and understanding, and for letting him go even if now he wasn’t sure.

Michael wasn’t sure what possessed him but the knowledge that he may never see her again seemed to force his next action. He leaned down, brushing his mouth over Liz’s. He’d only meant it to be a light kiss, just to know, for once, what her lips felt and tasted like. But Liz wrapped her arms around his neck and he felt himself pulling her closer to his body deepening the kiss. Their tongues stroked the other and a soft moan escaped her throat as he held the back of her head, threading his fingers through her long dark locks.

Air was the devil, as it caused them to part, panting, their breaths clouding in the frigid air and dissipating a moment later. Liz rested her head on his shoulder and he rubbed her back absently. A moment later Michael tipped her head back up to his own.

"Just needed to see what that would feel like." He told her with a smirk, belying the now stronger pull he felt to stay, just for her. The kiss had been that powerful.
"Thanks." She returned his smile, because she had wanted the same thing, "See, I told you, you’re the brave one." He chuckled softly kissing her forehead lightly.

Liz looked at the Nova then back at Michael, her eyes welling with tears again, "You really need to go Michael, before you wake anyone up."

"I know." He said mournfully, taking a step back, releasing Liz from his arms. He winced as she brought her arms back around her body to try and replace the warmth his body had given her. This couldn’t be goodbye. She’d come to mean too much to him. He needed to leave her with an option, or at the very least a sense of hope.

He pulled on her arms, taking her hands in his own, "Should you uncover your strength one day, Liz… look for me. Promise me."

"Michael…" Liz protested, sure she would never find what he saw in her.

"Promise. Me." He said insistently.

Liz softened and smiled, "I promise, Michael." she relented, "But how will I know where you are?"

Michael taxed his mind for a moment, then a grin spread over his face as he remembered a particularly spirited discussion they’d once had about the greatest novel ever written. Neither of them convinced the other in the end, but it had been a kick-start to their new friendship.

"Find Ulysses." He whispered.

When Liz smiled Michael knew he’d gotten through to her. He only hoped someday she’d realize her own bravery. He gently dropped her hands, and before he could change his mind about leaving, he ran to the Nova. He started the engine catching a glimpse of her as he shut the door. Pulling out of the driveway he’d been tempted to take one last look at her through the rear view mirror, but she’d made him promise not to look back.

~*~

Sweet was wiping down tables and putting chairs up while Michael turned away from the bar bringing his attention to the till. It had been a good night and he’d be up at least another hour doing the books. He heard the door to the bar open, assuming Sweet hadn’t locked it yet.

"Oh I’m sorry Miss, but the bar is closed for the night." The old man said in a kind voice. Michael smiled at his friend’s demeanor; he really lived up to his nickname.

"Even for a Shirley Temple?" the familiar female voice asked.

Michael’s heart leapt into his throat and his eyes widened. His eyes shot up to the mirrored wall of the bar and saw her standing there. But it couldn’t be her. She wasn’t real. It had to be a trick of the eyes. He was tired and seeing things.

"Michael?" she said. Apparently he was hearing them too.

Michael closed his eyes turning around, sure she’d be gone when he opened them, but she was really there. Still small and weary, but beautiful. He looked behind her to see if her husband was close by and found no one.

"Liz?" He finally rasped, "What are you...? How did you…"

Liz smiled, "I found Ulysses."

~*~
Michael heard Liz say the words. She’d "found Ulysses", so that had to mean Max couldn’t be with here, but for so long it was never one without the other. Since the day Max had healed her, even during their separations it had been MaxandLiz. Seeing her without him seemed foreign and he couldn’t trust his eyes. He had to know…

"Where’s Max?"

He regretted the question when he saw Liz’s smile fall, and she cast her eyes to the floor. Her fists clenched at her sides and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before meeting Michael’s gaze again, a confidence he’d never heard lacing her voice, "I left him…nearly a year ago. I’ve been running ever since. I didn’t know you were here it was an accident…I saw and ad and I took a chance…" she began to back away, tears filling her eyes, "I didn’t mean to disrupt your life… I’ll just…"

Her words were lost somewhere in the fabric that covered Michael chest, when as quick as lightening Michael had jumped over the bar and pulled her into his arms, engulfing her in a crushing hug. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her whole body relax at the safety, protection and most important, friendship he provided her with. Liz wasn’t sure what her feelings for Michael were, or if they had definition. All she knew is that they ran deep and that part of becoming, who she was now, had something to do with him. But for the moment she just felt right sharing the same space with him.

Once Liz had announced her freedom from her old life Michael’s felt his momentary paralyzation disappear, and as she began to retreat he practically flew to stop her. It was as though his heart wouldn’t allow him to embrace Liz without her newfound independence. It was like she said all those years ago, he’d, "…just get sucked back in."

But there Liz was, without Max, without her old life, and he felt strength throughout her small body that had only been a flicker the night he left. He didn’t know or even trust his feelings for the girl in his arms, but all he knew was that she was part of who he was now and of everyone in his old life, she was the one he’d thought of the most.


Sweet watched the two old friends holding onto each other as if they were the other’s anchors. In the four years he’d known Michael, he’d never seen the boy this rattled by anyone, let alone a woman. Plenty of women tried, only to be rebuffed. Sweet had initially thought maybe Michael was gay, but when he saw the sadness in his eyes, he knew that no woman stood a chance with him because another one had either broken his heart, or still had an invisible hold on it.

Something, or someone, weighed heavily on that boy’s heart and the spark Sweet saw in Michael’s eyes the minute Liz walked in the door…. Well, Mrs. Johnston didn’t raise any fool; this girl brought his young friend to life.

Liz also seemed to be a part of Michael’s past that had been made clear early on in his friendship with Sweet he didn’t talk about. Sweet had never been inclined to press Michael, but seeing his near joy with Liz, he gathered she was a least a good part of that past. Maybe the only good part. The way the large boy held her in his arms, the reasons for the boy’s blues at such a young age became clearer to the weathered old man. Sweet finally felt he’d walked, at least a few steps, in Michael’s over-sized shoes.

"How did you find me?" Michael asked Liz as he pulled back, unconsciously wiping away the happy tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

Liz let out a giggle, "I told you, it was an accident. I saw an ad for a waitress at the college job board. When I saw the name of the club, Ulysses and then your name at the bottom…" she let out a small laugh, "Michael Joyce? Well I had to take a chance that it could be you. I wasn’t looking for you…"

"Guess I’m not that hard to find." Michael chuckled.

"Oh you are, Max looked for you for over a year after you left. He just didn’t know where to look." Liz explained.

"But you did." He said softly, somehow knowing it would be her that would walk out of his past and back into his life. Like she was the only one who’d only really ever known him.

The urge to kiss her like he had the night he left was overwhelming, but he knew it was wrong, at least for now. Five years was a long time. He felt Liz had changed, but just how much and would he even fit in her life someway still had to be discovered. Or could she fit in his? Jesus, she was barely in his life again for two minutes and he was trying to figure out a way to make her a part of it? What happened to the hard edge he’d managed to maintain with everyone but Sweet? And why was he thinking about Liz that way?

The two old friends were so wrapped up in their reunion, they’d forgotten they weren’t the only people in the deserted bar until Sweet cleared his throat. Michael broke his focus on the dark chocolate eyes staring up at him and released Liz from his embrace, turning to Sweet.

"Damn Sweet, I’m sorry," he took Liz’s hand and guided her down the stairs for introductions, "Manners have never been my strong suit."

"Amen." Liz and Sweet said in unison, causing them all to laugh. Seems Michael hadn’t completely changed everything about himself.

Sweet set down the broom and took Liz’s hand in his own, "Sweet, this is Liz…" Michael began, but stopped, widening his eyes, unsure of what name Liz was going by now. When she was married to Max it had been Phillips, homage to Max’s father, but she’d said she’d been on the run since leaving Max. She was bound to have changed it in that time.

"Jeffries." Liz provided, winking at Michael, " Liz Jeffries. I went back to my maiden name. Phillips doesn’t fit anymore. Or at least it stopped a long time ago." Michael smiled; Liz had adopted her father’s name as her own, and so in a small way she really had taken her old name back. Seemed fitting.

Sweet pretended not to notice the secret smile that passed between Michael and Liz, shaking the girl’s hand gently, "Well it nice to meet you Ms. Jeffries. Melvin Walker Johnston, but everyone calls me Sweet. And anyone who can unravel the mystery of my boss here, is someone worth knowing."

Liz arched an eyebrow at the old man, "Now if you know anything about Michael, Mr. Johnston, Sweet, you know he loves being a mystery." She grinned leaning into whisper, "He likes to keep people guessing."

"And the crankiness?" Sweet asked as they both looked Michael over.

"Oh that’s real, but I’m sure you know by now, it’s one of his more charming features."

Sweet laughed heartily, "You most definitely have spent time with Boss man here. Although, how he left a beautiful thing like you behind, is a mystery that needs some solving."

"Well, there’s no mystery as to why you are called Sweet." She mused at the old honey dripper.

"Okay, old timer," Michael said pulling Liz gently away from Sweet, "No flirting with women nearly three times your junior. Her heart couldn’t take it."

"Can I help it if the ladies love me?" Sweet asked holding his hands up in mock innocence.

"I’ll make sure to ask your four ex-wives, Sweet." Michael joked, before turning his attention back to Liz, "Look, I gotta finish the books, but after that we can catch up. Where are you staying?"

"Shit son," Sweet shook his head, "Go on up to your place, I’ll close up. You two have a lot to catch up on."

"You sure?" Michael asked Sweet.

"Go on, Michael before I smack you on the head with this here broom. It’ll be a cheap thrill for this old timer, I haven’t ever seen you take a lady up to…"

"Uh…Thanks Sweet. See you tomorrow." Michael interrupted, dragging Liz with him outside to her car.

"Sure thing Son." The old man chuckled, waving at Liz as she tried to keep up with Michael’s long strides, "Welcome to New Orleans Ms. Jeffries." He called out.

Once outside Michael immediately found Liz’s Jeep, worn and dirty from many months spent on the road, "I just got into town, Michael. Where’s a good place to stay?"

"With me." Michael told her opening the back to the car and taking out her belongings.

"Michael, I don’t want to put you out…" Liz argued.

"Liz, I have three bedrooms one of which I’m not using and I told you to come find me. Now, if Max is still looking for you. You are staying with me." He said emphatically.

"Michael," Liz sighed, loving the fact that there were parts of his old persona he’d managed to hold onto, no matter how boorish they were, it was what made him Michael. "I don’t need you to protect me from Max…"

"I know that." Michael said putting the bags down on the ground to scratch his eyebrow, "It’s just been so long since I was able to protect anyone besides myself, it just feels right. Please. Stay with me?"


Liz swallowed back the lump in her throat. It had felt like only yesterday that she’d told Michael to go without her and she’d watched his tail lights disappear into the darkness along with a piece of her heart. Now, here they stood a few years older and definitely wiser and he was asking her to stay with him. In some ways it was if time had stood still and they were still those same two teenagers standing in the darkness on the edge of discovery and in others it had been a million years. They were both very different people now leading very different lives, could their paths meet? Or would they merely pass each other by.

"Liz?" Michael asked seeing the far off look in her eye.

Liz shook her head of her thoughts and wiped at her eyes, "Sorry. Um, I’ll stay with you."

Michael smiled and picked her bags up again, motioning with his head for her to follow him up the stairs to his apartment. Liz took a moment to look him over and giggle. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing." She shook her head, "It’s just you look the same as you did the night you left. The long hair, the clothes…"

"For one thing the hair was never getting cut short again. Spikes were the statement of my youth. Besides chicks dig long hair…or so I’m told." He explained as they climbed the stairs, "Besides, It’s only been five years."

"It’s been a lifetime, Michael." Liz said quietly and bit mournfully as they stopped at the landing.

"Yeah," Michael agreed, "I guess you’re right." He looked her over again, "But you still look the same Liz." Then paused, "I take that back. You look… freer."
Liz smiled, "I am."

Michael opened the door to the apartment and let Liz go in first while he carried in her bags. Liz could hardly believe her eyes when she took in the spacious apartment. It was a far cry from the government subsidized one bedroom he had back in Roswell. From the shiny hardwood floors, the crystal chandelier above the large dining room table to the enormous chef grade kitchen, it was spartanly decorated, but it all screamed Michael. It was simply amazing.

"Michael…" she said, almost breathlessly, "How did you…I mean the bar…and this place? How…?"

Michael smirked, "How can I afford it?"

Liz nodded dumbly, embarrassed for asking Michael such a question. Michael shook his head at her, telling her not to be embarrassed. It’s not exactly like he’d ever been good with his money before, but time on the road and a little maturity had taught Michael the value of a dollar.

"I’ll show you." He said cryptically, "After I put your stuff in your room."

"Okay." Liz agreed and followed him down the hall.

The first room they passed was small, the large unkempt bed taking up most of the room. It was obviously his. Liz chuckled to herself at the laundry strewn about the room, yet another sign that with Michael, old habits died hard. You can’t teach a perpetual slob new tricks. She wouldn’t want to.

She saw him disappear into the room a few feet down the hall from his. He set her bags on the neatly made double bed and passed his hand over the night stand and dresser, removing the layers of dust, "Sorry." He said sheepishly, "I don’t exactly get a lot of guests."

Liz looked around the room, it was the same size and design as his, just looked less used. The walls were a pale blue and were a bit bare, but clean.

"You can fix it up however you want or I can do it for you…I mean I don’t know how your powers…" He stuttered.

Liz grinned placing her hand on the wall, minute later a deep green replaced the pale blue, "I’ve been working on them."

"Martha Stewart has nothing on you." Michael joked.

Liz said she would unpack later and Michael quickly took her hand, "Where are we going?" she asked.

"You’ll see." Michael said with an air of mystery.
"Michael, its one-o-clock in the morning…not my best mystery solving hour." Liz mock whined.

"Keep your panties on, Parker." He threw back as he tool her to the last bedroom at the end of the hall.

He opened the door and Liz followed him inside. It was obviously the master bedroom, but Michael had converted into a studio for his art. Canvas, oil, acrylic and watercolor paints were strewn about the area along with numerous sketchpads, charcoal and pastels. He had about five unfinished pieces on the floor depicting the city they way he saw it, vibrant, alive, organic.

"God Michael…you kept up with your art…Are you selling these?" Liz said in amazement.

"Like hotcakes." he said proudly, "Sweet, ‘discovered’, me not long after I got here. We were working in the same bar and he sorta stumbled onto my stuff. That man knows just about everyone in this damn town and introduced me to a friend of his. Gallery owner. She went nuts and took everything I had. The first batch I sold let me put a down payment on this building."

Liz studied some of the finished pieces recognizing places she’d seen on her way through the Big Easy. Her eye caught one theme throughout each piece. Amid all the bright colors and lights was a small woman, seemingly walking away through each piece, her long dark hair caught on the breeze. Everyone in the pictures was either sitting or standing in and their faces were visible, but her. Liz couldn’t help but feel a kinship to this girl.

"Michael…is the m…" she started to ask, but Michael cleared his throat loudly and pointed at the large bay window, "I…uh… have a balcony. Do most of my sketching out there."

He walked over to the French doors and threw them open gesturing for Liz to step outside. Forgetting her earlier question about the woman in the painting, she stepped out onto the first balcony she’d been on in six years.

"God, I missed this." She said wistfully staring out onto the city. Her eye caught something off to the side and she giggled, "A lawn chair huh?"

"What?" Michael asked scratching his eyebrow, "It’s comfortable."

Liz wiped her brow of the sweat that sparkled on it, "Well you went from the dry heat of the desert to the humid heat of the bayou."

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "You get used to it. Besides, I figure New Orleans was made for an alien like me. I can eat all the hot food I want and not have people look at me twice."

Liz laughed, "I remember you saying that when we first left Roswell."

"Yeah, but Max said it was stupid reason and we wound up in Colorado." Michael pointed out.
Liz nodded wiping her brow again. Michael realized, while he’d had time to adjust to the heat and humidity of a New Orleans mid-summer night, Liz had been traveling all over the place and hadn’t adjusted to much of anything.

"I got some lemonade in the fridge," he told her, "Kind of a staple around here. You want some?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." Liz accepted, "You mind if I stay out here…it’s been so long since…"

Michael nodded quickly, realizing how the balcony reminded her of the parents she’d left behind in Roswell and probably hadn’t seen since they left, "Then you can tell me what’s been going on in your life." He said.

"You have a lifetime?" Liz called out to Michael’s retreating form.

"Lived two, Liz… think I can spare another." He answered.

~*~

When Michael returned to the balcony with a pitcher full of lemonade and two glasses filled with ice, he found Liz curled up on the lawn chair staring up at the sky. She must have heard the clomping of his Doc Martens on the wood floor because she started talking before he reached the open doors.

"So Michael… Joyce huh?" She mused, "Well, I like it. Much better than Michael Hetfield, anyway."

Michael rolled his eyes at her as he pulled out a chair from inside the studio and handed her a glass, "Hetfield, was a great name, but it was one of my youth. I wanted something that spoke of my adulthood." He said with comical pomposity.

Liz laughed, " I shouldn’t tease. Since I left Max, I’ve been Liz Curie, Pasteur, Saulk and Faulkner."

"Jeffries is good name Liz." Michael told her, "It suits you."

"Well part of finding the new me, has to be rooted in who I was." She said seriously, "If I can’t keep Parker, I might as well take some part of my parents."

Michael nodded his understanding and they sat in silence for a few minutes, the ever-present question burning on Michaeln ’s tongue. When the silence became too much he finally broke.

"Liz, why did you finally leave? I mean, what happened that made you decide to walk away?" he asked.

Liz hung her head for a moment and Michael watched fresh tears spring to her eyes immediately regretting asking her, "Shit Liz, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer…"

Liz held up her hand, "No it’s okay, Michael." She wiped her eyes taking a deep breath, "A big part of the why I left was for me. You and I both know how much I was suffocating… But what made me finally walk away… was Alexis."

"Alexis?" Michael asked puzzled then felt his anger rise, "Who the hell is Alexis? Some girl Max cheated on you with?"

Liz shook her head; slightly amused that Michael would get so riled on her behalf, "No. Nothing like that." Another tear feel down her cheek and she wiped it away, "Alexis is your niece, Michael."

~*~

"My niece?" Michael asked stunned. If he had a niece that could only mean one of two things and he could barely allow himself to believe it, "Liz? Did you and Max have a…"

Liz shook her head emphatically, "No. No, Michael. Alexis, is Kyle and Isabel’s daughter. They got married about three years ago and Miss Alexis Michaela James, made her grand entrance a little over a year later." Her voice caught with emotion, "She’d be two by now."

Michael could hardly believe what he was hearing and a strange sense of relief that the child wasn’t Liz and Max’s. "Alexis Michaela? After Alex and…me?"

Liz nodded and smiled, "Yeah. You know you’re Isabel’s brother too. She misses you. She understands, but she still misses you."

"I miss them too." Michael said regretfully, then his eyes widened as something Liz said, and the sorrowful tone of her voice, caught up with him, "D-Did something happen to Alexis? You said ‘She’d be two by now.’ I mean, is she d…" His heart constricted already breaking for the niece he might never know.

Liz’s own eyes widened at what Michael had thought, "Oh God! No Michael. She’s perfectly healthy. I just miss her is all. I was there or the first year of her life and now I’ve missed one." When she saw Michael let out a relieved breath she continued, laughing softly, "You’d love her Michael. She has a smile that lights up the room. Reminds me a lot of Kyle. Keeps Isabel on her toes."

Michael could help but share in Liz’s laughter, "I would expect the spawn of Kyle Valenti…I mean, Kyle James, to do nothing less." He scratched his eyebrow, "I don’t suppose you have any pictures do you?"

Liz stood up, pulling a worn photo out of her back pocket, handing it to him. It was a candid, "family" shot, obviously taken by Max, as Liz Isabel, Kyle and a smiling baby girl, Alexis, were huddled into the picture. She was a pretty little thing, light brown, loosely curled hair and a toothy grin, well as toothy as a still teething child could be. But what also stuck Michael about the picture was Liz’s smile. It seemed genuine, unforced. She was looking down at Alexis, the little girl, Michael imagined, being the only one who could get her to smile like that. It was stunning.

After staring at the picture for another minute, Liz spoke, "That was taken at her first birthday party," she told him, "I have a whole album full of photos you can look at later. I mean if you want to."

Michael nodded, still smiling down at the photo, "I’d like that." He chuckled, "Alexis is beautiful, like Isabel. But you’re right, she does have Kyle’s smile. She is definitely going to be trouble."

Liz saw the sadness in Michael’s eyes at missing out on his niece’s life. Michael had always been great with kids, despite his gruff exterior. She surmised it had something to do with having little or no childhood of his own.
"Alexis knows who you are, Michael." She told him, knowing he needed to hear it.

Michael looked up at her in confusion, "She does? How?"

"Pictures Isabel and I have of you." Liz explained, "When I left she was just learning how to talk, but she calls you ‘Unca Grumpy’. Because in nearly every picture you’re scowling."

Michael snorted, but knew it was probably accurate, "Thanks, I mean for telling her about me."

"You’re her family, Michael. It’s important she at least knows about you." Liz said gently.

He tried to hand the picture back to Liz, but she waved him off telling him to hold onto it. He thanked her then shook his head as he looked at again, "Kyle and Isabel James…. and parents to boot. I can’t believe it. I mean I had a feeling they might hook up, but…Wow. The whole domesticated life?"

Liz laughed, she too had been amazed by Kyle and Isabel’s transformation and she’d seen it with her own eyes, "Yeah, but it really suits them. Kyle owns an auto shop; makes decent money and Isabel works part-time at an interior design firm, but Alexis is their life. Kyle is such a great dad. And Isabel… you’d hardly recognize her Michael. She gets down in the mud and plays with her. Finger paints, food fights…"

Michael’s jaw dropped, "You mean Isabel actually gets…messy?"

Liz nodded proudly, "Gone are the days of designer handbags and two hundred dollar shoes. She’s a down and dirty jeans and t-shirt mommy now. Her job at the design firm gives her all the fashion fix she needs."

"Well, they say parenthood changes you." Michael observed.

"Yeah." Liz replied quietly and a bit mournfully. "I left two weeks after that photo was taken."

Michael tore his eyes away from the photo to see the smile Liz had been wearing a moment early had faded. It had obviously torn Liz apart to leave the little sprite, "Liz? If you loved Alexis so much, what about her made you leave?"

Liz shook her head and sat back down facing Michael, "It wasn’t Alexis’ fault I left. If anything, she made it more difficult to leave." She sighed heavily, "I’m not explaining this very well. I’m sorry." She bit her lips against the tears she was fighting.

On instinct, Michael took her hands in his own, a small gesture of reassurance, "You’re doing fine."

Liz smiled slightly and took a calming breath, "It wasn’t so much Alexis, specifically. It was what her birth brought out in Max." she explained.

Michael could practically hear the autopilot switch on inside Liz. He had always hated it when she did that, and she’d done it a lot in the months before he left the group, but he knew if she were going to get through her story, she’d have to try and detach herself a bit.

"When Isabel got pregnant," Liz began, "Max was furious to say the least. He felt that she and Kyle should have learned from his experience with Tess and Zan, that our lives are far too dangerous to bring a baby in to."

Michael raised an eyebrow; "I’m guessing Mr. and Mrs. James set him straight about that?" He knew at least Isabel, wouldn’t take crap from Max, especially when it came to her life…and her body.

"Oh, there were more than a few screaming matches and royal tantrums on both sides." Liz confirmed, "Kyle even decked Max one night."

Michael couldn’t help blurting out an amused laugh, but apologized quickly. Liz shook her head, "Don’t be sorry. I won’t repeat what he said, but sufficed to say, Max deserved it."

"So what happened after Alexis was born?" Michael pressed.

"Alexis, like Kyle and Isabel, is the consummate charmer, and knows how to wrap any man around her tiny, little finger; Max was no exception." Liz said with a genuine smile, but it quickly faded, "Max saw that we could lead normal lives, have families. The FBI or extraterrestrial enemies stopped looking for us a long time ago. Seeing Kyle, Isabel and Alexis…it made Max realize what he’d given up when he put Zan up for adoption."

Michael ran a hand over his face roughly, knowing what was coming next, "Oh Christ…"

"Yeah… He wanted us to start a family of or own." Liz said mournfully, "Things were falling apart between Max and I before you left, Michael. You saw it yourself. You can just imagine how it had deteriorated even more over the years. How could I possibly even consider the idea of bring a child into a marriage that had died years ago?"

"What did you tell him?" Michael asked, wondering how the hell Liz had managed to get out of that situation.

"I told him I wasn’t ready yet." Liz explained, "That there were things I still wanted to do… He was disappointed, of course, but I think he just figured I needed a little more time and that eventually I’d be ready. The truth was…"

"You never would be." Michael finished. How could Max expect her to… was he really that blind?
Liz nodded silently, "It worked for about six months and Alexis actually provided Max with his ‘baby’ fix, but every time we’d go back to our house after visiting her… I could tell it was weighing on Max. And he’s never really been that patient. So he started bringing it up again."

"And when Max gets an idea in his head…" Michael rolled his eyes.

"He’s immoveable. He became obsessed, Michael." Liz concurred with a heavy sigh. She stood up off the chair and leaned against the balcony railing, "Of course the fact that we hadn’t had sex since he’d first brought up having a baby didn’t exactly escape his notice either. By the time I left it had been nearly a year. Figures that would agitate him."

"Pffft. Try more than five years without it. Now that’s agitation." Michael muttered a little too loudly.

Liz turned around, her eyes wide, "You mean…you haven’t had…since…"

"Since before Maria left? Yeah." Michael said, his face reddening. He cleared his throat, "But we’re not talking about me right now. So…what was the final straw with Max? I mean I can tell you loved Alexis…and Kyle and Isabel."

Liz pushed of the balcony railing settling back on the lawn chair, staring up at the stairs as she remembered the night that closed the chapter of Max Evans in her life.

"We’d just come back from Alexis’ birthday party and Max started in on me again about a baby the second we stepped inside the house. He said ‘It was time to get serious and a start a family of our own instead of living through Kyle and Isabel. Besides, Alexis needs a cousin, Liz. Someone to play with.’

He said a baby would ‘…bring us closer together. Fix the problems we’ve been having.’ He felt he had something missing from his life since giving Zan up, and that a baby of our own might help fill that empty space. Space? It was a fucking chasm nothing could fill." The anger in her voice palpable, "It was all the same arguments he made before…just more adamantly.

"So…He figured what? He could bully you into having a baby?" Michael asked, incredulous that Max would do that to Liz. You couldn’t just force someone to have a baby against her will?

"Why not?" Liz said sarcastically, " I’d let him bully me into giving up on all of my dreams. Why not one more thing? Remember me Liz Phillips… no spine included."

A fear gripped Michael at what Max might have been capable of and she has said he was… "Adamant". "Liz? Did Max…did he hurt you at all?"

Liz sat up, her heart softening at the concern she read on Michael’s face. They’d all felt the brunt end of Max’s notorious temper at one time or another. When backed into a corner, he tended to lash out violently.
Liz shook her head, "Sorta,.. I mean, I don’t know. He grabbed me, hard, and shook me." She unconsciously rubbed her upper arms, still feeling the bruises Max’s crushing and angry grip had left behind, even a year later. "He demanded to know the real reason why I had been putting him off and that he’d indulged me for too long."

She took a heavy breath, before continuing, "How could I bring a child into that? I snapped. Told him how dead I was inside and that not only had I stopped loving myself, but also I had long since stopped loving him. That there was no way in hell I could have a baby with him. Ever."

"Wow." Michael said numbly, "I’m betting Max didn’t take that well."

"To say the least." Liz confirmed, her brow furrowing, ‘But something happened Michael. He got so quiet. I’ll never forget it. I have never heard a silence like that."

"Calm before the storm?" Michael provided, remembering the hushed way Max liked to fume before exploding completely.

"Kinda." She replied, "He let go of my arms and just sat in his armchair. Just still. I don’t even think he breathed. Then an hour later he snapped his fingers and stood up. He started pacing back and forth frantically. He said we could get marriage counseling and that we could find our way back to each other. Then we could start a family."

Liz let out a frustrated growl as every word of that conversation came back to her, "I knew then that Max would never give up and while, somehow, I had justified sacrificing my own happiness, I could never subject an innocent child to that."

"I’m sorry, Liz." Michael whispered, now regretting ever leaving her on those porch steps all those years ago. He should have stayed and protected her.

"I knew that night I had to find a way to leave. So, for the next two weeks I planned and packed. With a little help from Kyle and Isabel, I pulled off a Michael. No note. No letter. Just disappeared into the night." She told him.

"Kyle and Isabel helped you leave Max?" Michael asked a little stunned.

Liz nodded, "They knew how unhappy I was and when I told them Max’s plan… they didn’t want to see me go, but they knew I had no other options, so they helped." Liz wiped tears away from her eyes, "I call them when I can, to let them know I’m okay and to check on Alexis."

"Does Max know anything? What does he think happened?" Michael asked, trying to gauge what kind of threat Max might be, if at all.
"He doesn’t know why I left, even though everyone else does. For a while he thought I’d been kidnapped, until Isabel finally told him that she had heard from me and that I was fine. Up until that point he couldn’t be convinced that I’d left of my own free will. Kyle says that just made him want to look harder, so we could work things out." She said, wearing the frustration in her body language and in her voice.

Michael shook his head, "So, you’ve been running this whole time?"

"Not really." She shrugged her shoulders, "Max has never really come close to finding me. Kyle and Isabel usually give me a heads up if he’s getting too close and I move on. I wanted to find a place that fit you know? A place where I can face him, and when he finds me, it's because I let him. Besides, I have to get a divorce eventually."

"Yeah." Michael agreed, "You know, New Orleans is a great lady. And if you treat her right, she’ll do right by you. Sweet told me that when we met and I’ ll be damned if he wasn’t right."

Liz chuckled, "You sound like a local."

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "I’ve kinda become one. This is home. A little on the lonely side, but it’s home. So, what’s mine is yours for as long as you like. If you need to move on at some point I won’t stop you."

"I know." Liz said unconsciously placing her hand on his knee, the gave him an amused smile, "Since when did you learn how to share?"

Michael kept a straight face, holding her eyes with his own, "Since I stopped having anyone to share anything with." He saw Liz’s loss for words and he realized what he’d said held a little more meaning for himself than he’d intended, even if it was the truth.

He shifted in his chair and swiftly changed the subject, "So, where did you go when you left? Your parents? Maria?"

Liz let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and took her hand off Michael’s knee when he shifted, trying to focus on his words, "My parents? No. I call them from various places, but I haven’t seen them since we all left. We all hate it, but until we’re sure the FBI has stopped watching them…" her voice choked at the sadness of missing her parents, but she quickly pushed it aside, "As for Maria. No. That would have been the first place Max would have looked. And while I adore the diva, she would have told him where I was."

"Still needing to believe in perfect love." Michael scoffed.

Liz rolled her eyes, "Lofty ideal, but there’s no such thing. It shouldn’t be perfect, where’s the fun? But I don’t love Max anymore, and neither he nor Maria can accept that. Not exactly the environment needed to find ones self."

"To say the least." Michael added.

"Anyway," Liz continued, "When I left, I took about half of our savings and just traveled. Trying to figure out who I am without Max. I needed to find out if Liz Jeffries has the same dreams Liz Parker did. Which I do, but I found some new ones and I’m letting go of some old ones. I knew that’s what I had to do before I really started looking for ‘Ulysses’. Turns out in a way, Ulysses found me."

"Ah," Michael said folding his hands, "Kyle would call the karmic direction."

"Or one hell of a coincidence. Either way, I think I’m supposed to be here now. It feels right." She said taking the last sip of her sweltering lemonade.

Michael merely nodded, keeping his gratefulness at her presence to himself at the moment. But something did bother him a bit, "I know I told you to find me, Liz…and I knew someday you might, but why would you want to?"

Liz looked up at him in confusion, "I don’t understand."

Michael scratched his eyebrow, trying to find the right words, "Like it or not, I’m part of that old life that dragged you down. I’m a constant reminder of the precise moment your life changed. I guess I figured part of you independence would mean avoiding reminders like me. I mean, I would have understood."

Liz smiled, Michael still wore his insecurities on his sleeve, and she was grateful that part of him hadn’t changed. Here he was offering her a place in his home, and in a sense his life and he was worried about intruding on hers.

"You are right in more ways than one, Michael." She told him cryptically, "Yes, you are a part of that old life, but a good part. In finding my new future I have to look to my past and one thing I found that had been a constant, was you. I realized I counted on you more than anyone, even Max. With you there were no pretenses and niceties. You lay it all out on the table no matter what.

So, blow me a way when I discover, that upon reflection, you didn’t hate me or resent me, at least not after a while. You always had my back, believed in me, even when it scared you to do so. Not because you felt you had to, but because you wanted to."

"Well, and don’t go spreading this around," Michael whispered, "more often than not…you were right, Liz." He hung his head for moment then looked back up, "But I stopped being your constant when I left."

Liz shook her head in disagreement, "Even when you left, you showed me that freedom, and life without Max was possible. I didn’t know where you were or if you had found any kind of happiness, but just knowing someone I knew was really free… that got me through the years and helped me eventually get away. If I didn’t know it was possible…I might not have done it."

"Yeah you would have." Michael countered, "You’re a lot stronger than you realize. I told you that when I left. I still mean it. You can be strong without me in your life."

"I know I can, Michael. I have been for the past year." She looked heaven ward to pluck some kind of answer from the sky, but found nothing, "I don’t pretend to know why I need you in my life. I just know I do. Yours is the one friendship I have truly missed over these past five years…" she ran a hand through her hair in frustration, "I’m not making any kind of sense am I?"

"You are." Michael reassured her, giving her a patented Guerin smirk, "I missed you too, Parker."

"Jeffries. Mr. Joyce." Liz corrected with a smile, "Jeffries."

"You’ll always be Parker to me, Liz." He countered.

Liz could no longer stifle he fatigue and let out a rather large yawn. Michael realized how tired she must have been and stood up off his chair extending his hand, "Let’s get you to bed. Bar doesn’t open until eleven anyway. We can talk more in the morning."

Liz took his hand graciously, more than ready for what she knew would be her first good night’s sleep since he’d left her all those years earlier. She wasn’t sure why, but she kept her hand locked with Michael’s as they walked through the studio and into the hallway until they were in front of her room. It was almost as if she was afraid that if she took her hand away, he might disappear. In the past year she had enjoyed her freedom, independence and discovery, but she found that she’d really missed the comfort and safety Michael’s presence provided her with.

Michael opened the door to Liz’s room for her and she stepped inside, releasing his hand. He shook his head as he watched her seat herself on the bed, "I still can’t believe you’re here, Liz."

"Me either." She laughed, then bit her lip, "You sure it’s okay?"

"Yeah." Michael said confidently, reassuring her, " It’s okay. Really. It’s kinda nice to have the company. Sweet’s a great friend, but he has a terrible body." He half joked, " Now, get some sleep."

"Okay." Liz nodded with a yawn, and then remembered something else, calling out to Michael as he was closing the door behind him, "Michael?"

"Yeah?" he asked, popping his head back into the room.

"Um, that waitress job… Is it still open?" she asked a bit nervously.
"Nope." Michael said shaking his head, "Already filled it."

Liz’s shoulders sagged in disappointment and she avoided his eyes, "Oh…well then I’ll guess I’ll find something…"

"Liz." Michael chuckled, "You start tomorrow night."

Liz smiled brightly for a moment, before glaring comically at the tall man’s amusement. She grabbed a pillow, throwing at Michael’s well coiffed noggin, mussing the hair before her ducked.

"Jerk." She muttered, trying not to laugh.

Michael laughed heartily, and then winked at her, "You know you love me." He said shutting the door before she could reload.

"Or I could" Liz whispered wistfully.

"If only you could." Michael mumbled, on the other side of the door, before retiring to his room.

~*~

Despite getting to bed late the night before, Michael rose early the next morning, out of habit. The mornings were his best creative time. He’d spend hours in his studio painting and sketching, Sweet even got him to try sculpture. Clay was fun, but he really enjoyed marble. Chipping away and smoothing a piece of stone into something beautiful. The metaphor wasn’t lost on him.

Michael’s paintings were in demand at the moment and he had a show in one of Sweet’s "lady friend’s", Miriam, gallery next month. He had plenty of pieces for the show and he knew they’d sell, but lately they hadn’t been giving him the sense of satisfaction he used to get from them. He felt, bored, uninspired and idle. He felt like he was just churning out what people wanted, instead of painting for himself. But while he wasn’t happy with what he’d been putting out, at least it was something. It wasn’t as though he’d felt inspired to really create anything new and his sculptures were far too amateurish to even consider showing.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and headed for the studio. He didn’t really feel like drawing or painting, so he grabbed an old sketchpad and sat on the balcony and decided to wait for inspiration to come to him. But all he could think about was the dark haired girl still fast asleep in his guest room.

Michael knew Liz would never let him regret leaving, but after hearing how suffocating her life had become with Max, he couldn’t help but wonder if things might have been different, better for her, if he’d stayed. At least then she would have had someone to stand up for her. And he would have.

"But then Liz wouldn’t have stood up for herself." He muttered to no one.

Michael flipped open the sketchbook finding he’d grabbed the he’d managed to take out maybe once a year, just for sentimental reasons. It was worn and the pages had yellowed with age and from the humid bayou air, but the drawings inside never lost their luster.

He should have thrown it out for the pain it caused him to look at it, but he needed to remember her face. Every page was filled with Liz’s face, as he remembered her, sad, but still with a little glimmer left in her eyes. She was all he could draw the first six months after he left. He had no photos of her, or any of the group, but she stood out in his mind so vividly that he had to preserve her on those pages with charcoal. It was no mystery to as to why. Michael missed the hell out of Liz.

But one morning, after Michael had first arrived in New Orleans, he drew his final sketch of the girl who haunted his heart. He realized that he’d never truly begin his new life if he couldn’t let go of his old one. He’d never forget Liz; she was permanently etched on his heart and he didn’t need a drawing to see her.

Michael ran a finger over the lines of the final sketch. It was Liz, the last night he saw her. Her hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders and her tiny body was wrapped in that worn out robe. Her arms were wrapped her waist looking as if she wanted to disappear inside herself. Her dark eyes were glistening with tears, for him, and her lips… those lips, swollen with their kiss.

The kiss. The one he could still taste, and feel the softness of her lips against his, five years later, even stronger now that Liz was there. They hadn’t talked about it last night and in a way Michael was glad. When he’d kissed Liz that night he’d thought it was goodbye, but instead it woke something up in him. He crossed the lines of friendship in so many ways with that kiss, but he would never have taken it back, because it was then he realized he loved her.

Somewhere between the day she was shot in the Crashdown to that night on the porch, Michael had fallen in love with Liz. What Michael didn’t realize until that kiss, was that Liz, or at least a part of her, loved him back.

Michael had told himself that it was just going to be one kiss, one less regret, a need to taste what he could never, in is mind, have. But then she had to go return the kiss. Liz loved him. She couldn’t say it, but did he ever feel it.

Michael knew then, it wouldn’t be the last time he saw Liz. It’s why he asked her to look for him when she found her feet, to "Find Ulysses." He wanted her to know that when she did leave Max, that she wouldn’t be alone and that someone out there would be waiting for the woman she could become, once she found her strength.

It had taken five long years, but here she was, back in Michael’s life, filling a void he hadn’t realized existed until he held her in his arms again. But she also wasn’t the same woman he imagined she could become. God, she was so much better. Stronger, happier, despite the pain, and most importantly, free.

Michael never forgot he loved her, he just set it aside to live his own life, but it slammed into him full force, the second he saw her reflection in the bar’s mirror, how much he wanted her in his life. But he also knew it was way too soon to even consider pursuing anything but a friendship with Liz at this point. Michael was still very guarded about giving away his heart, despite the ever-increasing hold Liz’s mere presence, had on it. He’d waited five years, he could wait longer.

Liz was still discovering who she was without Max. Not to mention the fact that she was still married to him. It might have been in name only, but married was married. The way she talked about Max the night before, he saw there was no love left for her husband, but for some reason Liz wasn’t ready to cut that final thread that tied her to Max. Michael knew it was because she was scared, not necessarily of Max, but of letting go of the very thing she gave up her "normal" life for.

Michael knew Liz, even after the years apart. She still had the same doubts she told him about when the two of them would sit on the roof of the house they’d all shared. If her marriage to Max failed, was it worth everything she sacrificed? Alex? Never seeing her parents? Never being able to go home? Giving up her education? It couldn’t have all been for nothing. Michael knew then that was what was holding her marriage together with a man she was falling out of love with, but was so proud of her for leaving despite those same questions.
Michael also had questions he knew Liz couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer for him. He needed to talk to someone who was there during the years he’d missed, someone who was inside the group, but outside Max and Liz’s relationship. And he knew there was only one person who fit that description.

He quickly finished his coffee, already having forgone his ritual of painting that morning, and went back into the apartment. He knew Liz was the only one who would have the phone number he needed, but she was still sleeping and he didn’t exactly want her to know whom he was calling. Not yet anyway.

Michael knew that Liz kept her address book in her purse and the last place he’d seen that was on the armchair in her room. This was going to require covert actions, and he was a little out of practice. But it was like riding a bike, right? God, he hoped so.

Trying to be as stealthy as possible, Michael carefully opened Liz’s door. Cursing under his breath at the creaking the hinges made. Looking across the room he spotted her purse on the armchair and slipped into the room, absently letting his eyes fall to a slumbering Liz. Maybe those teachers in elementary school were right; if you keep staring straight ahead, you’ll be less distracted. And Liz made for quite a distraction, as Michael’s breath caught at the simple glimpse of her sleeping peacefully.

She laid on her stomach, obviously naked, the olive skin of her bare back bathing in the morning sun, and the sheets gathered at her waist. Her impossibly long hair spilled all around her, wisps of it floating in the gentle breeze of her bedside fan. Michael could just make out the curve of the underside of one breast when he forced himself to close her eyes, though it did little good. His artists mind had already imprinted her every line, curve, and dip into the forbidden, onto his brain.

Michael forgot the universal truth when it came to sleeping in bayou country. No one wore pajamas to bed, especially in the summer. Hell, he didn’t either. It was far too muggy and sticky for anything aside from a sheet. He just hadn’t counted on seeing so much of Liz’s body when he walked in or he might have just saved his phone call for later.

But it was too late now; he was already in the room and more than obviously affected by seeing so much of Liz’s skin. He could have dismissed his physical reaction as a result of his self-imposed celibacy, but he wouldn’t cheapen her beauty like that. Liz was just that simply beautiful and he’d have to be stone cold dead, not to be affected by her.

Michael’s eyes flew open when Liz began to shift and mumble incoherently, as she sensed another presence in the room. Remembering why he was there, Michael grabbed Liz’s purse and darted out of the room before she could turn over.

Once he’d shut the door, Michael leaned his forehead against it, hearing Liz settle back into sleep. While his hormone driven body was chastising him for not at least getting a glimpse of the full body Liz, he knew by his suddenly labored breathing, that it might have been too much for him.

"That was dangerous." He whispered, shaking his head.
Yeah, Michael Joyce’s life was considerably different than Michael’s Guerin’s, when the biggest danger in Joyce’s life was a naked Liz…Jeffries.

Removing himself from the temptation Ms. Jeffries unwittingly provided, Michael settled himself in the kitchen, pulling out the red address book from the purse. As he opened it to the name he sought a sudden fear gripped at Michael. It had been five years since they’d heard anything from him and he was just calling out of the clear blue sky? Would they even want to talk to him? What was he thinking?

Just as Michael was talking himself out of making the call, a picture tucked into the book fell into his hands. He held it up, immediately captured by the utterly charming little girl staring back at him. Isabel must have sent it to Liz at her last stop. He flipped the photo over and read the writing on the back:

Michael trepidation was still there, but even in just a picture Alexis had already wrapped her Uncle Michael around her dainty pinky. If only for that little sprite, Michael could stop being afraid of his past and those he left behind. He picked up the phone, dialing the number and unconsciously holding his breath.

After two rings, Michael glanced up at the clock, admonishing himself. They were at least an hour behind him and he was probably going to wake them up. He was about to hang up the when a chipper little voice answered the phone.

"Hi!" the child said, "Whatcha want?"

Michael’s eyes widened and a smile crept on his face as he realized who he was talking to, "Uh…Alexis. Is your mommy or daddy around?"

"Mommy workin’. Daddy’s watchin’ cartoons wit me." The little girl replied.

"Lexi…" Michael heard Kyle grumble in the background, "Give Daddy the phone."

"No Daddy. I talkin’." Alexis said obstinately, before turning her attention back to her caller, "Who dis?" Definitely Isabel’s daughter
"Um… my name is Mich…" he paused, grinning, "This is your Uncle Grumpy." He took the phone away from his ear at the child’s high-pitched squeal.

"When you come see me?" Alexis asked her uncle when he managed to put his ear back to the phone. He could hear Kyle in the background demanding the phone from his precocious child.

"Sorry, Alexis. I just don’t know." Michael answered her honestly.

"Alexis James!" Kyle raised his voice, before giving her a surrendering sigh, "At least tell Daddy who it is."

Michael chuckled as he heard Alexis growl in annoyance and he could practically see her rolling her eyes dismissively, just like Isabel, "It’s Unca Grumpy, Daddy. You go back to Scooby."

Michael heard a "Holy. Fuck!" from Kyle and a sudden tussle for the phone.

"That really you Guerin?" Kyle asked, his shock obvious.

Michael was about to answer when he hear Alexis giggling in the background, chanting, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..." to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

"Lexi. No." Kyle scolded her half-heartedly, "Daddy shouldn’t have said that. Please stop."

Michael nearly fell off the chair when Lexi began to sing louder and as Kyle tried to stop his daughter’s bout with cursing.

"Baby girl." Kyle pleaded with his daughter, "If you love your Daddy at all, you’ll stop. Or Mommy will cut off Daddy’s… well you won’t be getting a brother or sister, even if you ask Santa."

Alexis stopped her blue tune immediately, "Kay, Daddy. Gonna watch Scooby. Bye Unca Grumpy!" Michael could hear here skipping away singing, "Daddy said a bad wo-rd."

"I am such a dead man." Kyle sighed into the phone, before perking up, "So. Michael. You don’t call. You don’t write. How the hell are ya? Where the hell are you? And most importantly…How’s Liz?"

Michael was a little thrown, but hearing no malice in Kyle’s voice he fell in step, "Phone calls are overrated and expensive. I hate writing my name, let alone a letter. I’m okay and in New Orleans. And Liz is sleeping, but how the hell did you know she was here?"

"Deduction, my wayward friend. I was raised by a sheriff you know?" Kyle quipped, "First, the only possible way you could know that Lexi calls you ‘Uncle Grumpy’, was if Liz told you and I just have a gut feeling Liz wouldn’t just call you. Second, I knew once Liz found your invisible ass; you’d call wanting the full skinny on the past five years. Or am I wrong?"
"You’re not wrong." Michael admitted.

"The third reason, "Kyle offered, "Is that out of all of us, I think Liz missed you the most. Or at least it became pretty damn obvious to those of us who were not Max."

"What are you talking about? You know cryptic always annoyed me, Kyle." Michael grumbled, trying to hide his curiosity

Kyle chuckled, "Okay. Okay. Well, the first clue was the day she went into town, shopping with Isabel, and came back with just about every Metallica album ever made. Liz Parker… Phillips…. Whatever, never gave Metallica a second listen until you left."

Michael scratched his eyebrow; "I used to play them in the garage in the morning when I worked on the Nova, or in my room after work…"

"Yeah, well thanks a ton, because until Isabel and I got our own place we were rudely awakened every morning by Master of Puppets. When Max asked her to quit it she switched to Unforgiven. My particular favorite," Kyle snickered, "was when she was pissed at Max, which was more often towards the end, she’d play King Nothing."

Michael laughed loudly, clamping his hand over his mouth so as not to wake Liz, "I used to do that when Max pissed me off, and that was all the time." He shook his head, "I still can’t believe she got into Metallica."

"Believe it, Michael." Kyle said emphatically, "Don’t believe me? Play some when she gets up. The woman knows every damn one of those songs by heart. And Liz mouthing the words to Whiskey In the Jar, is an experience not to be forgotten."

"I’ll have to try that." Michael said with an amused chuckle. "Not that a change in music taste proves anything, but what else?" he asked unable to hide his curiosity.

"Let’s see, there was the denim jacket, that you left behind. If she still has it, the thing is about ten sizes too big for her, because lets face it Michael, you’re a friggin’ giant compared to her, but it was practically the only coat she’d ever wear."

"I wondered where that was." Michael mused, wondering if Liz really did still have it with her. The thought alone of her scent mixing with his on the fabric nearly gave him goose bumps.

"I remember we were going out one night, I think it was when Isabel and I got engaged and Max shrunk the coat to fit her when she went to put it on." Kyle half chuckled, "Dude, I have never seen Liz get that angry. Pure fury, man. We’re talking beyond a Maria-sized tantrum. She demanded he restore it, which he did, because he valued his own life, and I believe he slept on the couch for a couple nights after that."

"Okay," Michael said, trying not to sound amused, "I get it. She missed me."

"To say the least." Kyle said in mock exhaustion, "So, did you take on any Parker-esque traits when you left?" he teased.

Michael rolled his eyes, deciding against telling Kyle about his propensity to sit out on the balcony of his apartment and the reason he bought the particular building in the first pace was for the balcony, "Uh yeah, I grew my hair down to my ass and I’ve started listening to chick rock." He joked, "I’ve also taken an interest in molecular biology. I’m getting my doctorate some time next to never."

Kyle knew Michael was covering any hidden truths with humor and also knew not to press, so he changed the subject, "So…Liz is sleeping huh?" he asked playfully, "Wear her out did ya?"

"Shut up Valen…I mean James. She walked into my bar late last night and we caught up a little. She’s staying in my guest bedroom." Michael tossed back.

"For now." Kyle coughed, and then quickly moved on before Michael could say anything, "You. Owning a bar? Wonder what Dr, Freud would have to say about?"

"He’d say I’m good with drunks." Michael joked, then chuckled, "So you and Isabel huh?"

"Yeah." Kyle said in a mock sheepish tone, "Finally gave into her incessant come-ons."

"More like the other way around, Cowboy." Michael returned.

Kyle laughed, "Okay so you’re right. Glad she did though, now I’ve got two girls attached to my name… well my dad’s… but you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Uh…Lexi’s beautiful, man. Liz showed me a couple pictures. But I still can’t believe you’re a dad." Michael said, amused.

"Me either." Kyle laughed, "The fact that I’m responsible for another life is completely ridiculous. But God I love it." He paused for a moment, "So, do you still go by Hetfield, or have you moved on to Ulrich, Hammet or maybe another band all together?"

"Joyce." Michael provided.

"Joyce?" Kyle said in comical confusion, "Okay Miss, you win the prize for Most Changed. Geez, I’ve heard of going undercover Michael, but don’t you think that was taking it a bit too far?"

"Michael Joyce you idiot." Michael snickered, "After James Joyce…the author." He was met with silence, " Ulysses."

Kyle snapped his fingers, "So that’s what that meant?"

"What are you talking about?" Michael asked.

Kyle sighed dramatically, "Well, since you’ve decided on popping out of the woodwork and all I might as well tell you the fourth reason I knew Liz was with you."

"Please. Enlighten me." Michael said, waiting for another round of Kyle’s playful sarcasm.

"Because Liz wasn’t the only one who saw you leave that night. I was coming back from Isabel’s room, nothing happened by the way, just talking. If you remember right, my bedroom window faced the driveway."

"Oh." Was all Michael could say realizing what Kyle had seen.

"Yeah. Oh." Kyle replied, knowing he and Michael were on the same page, "I saw that kiss, Michael. Now, you know I’ve never bullshitted you. I think that’s why we got along so well. So, I gotta tell you what I saw between you and Liz that night sure as hell wasn’t, ‘Goodbye’. That was ‘I love you’, whether you want to admit it or not. Or am I wrong?"

This time Michael sighed, he never could bullshit Kyle, "You are definitely not wrong."

~*~

"Wow," Kyle said, in mild shock at the ease in which Michael had just admitted he was in love with Liz, "Time has really mellowed the perpetual grump, or at least eroded the chip on your shoulder. There’s no way you would have admitted that five years ago."

"True." Michael sighed, "Stonewalls crumble over time Kyle, and besides, like you said we’ve never bullshitted each other before. And Liz is here…somewhat free…" he trailed off, "Shit man, I don’t know."

"Just give it time, Michael. From where I was standing the night you left, Liz was on the same page with you. I guess she has been since that night. Think about it; why would she be there if she wasn’t feeling something too?"

Michael thought for a moment, his ever-present self doubt creeping in, "Protection?" he offered, "Max is still looking for her…"

"No way, Paul Bunyan." Kyle admonished, "Don’t do that."

"Do what?" Michael asked in confusion.

"This whole, ‘I’m Not Good Enough For Liz" routine. You are and you always have been. Don’t put her on that pedestal like Max did. You’re better than that." Kyle argued, "The only thing that’s gonna keep you from pursing anything with Liz is your own damn paranoia about Max. Liz left Max for a reason. Even if he did find her, no amount of sunshine and false promises he’d manage to blow up her ass would get her to go back with him. She doesn’t want the life Max has planned for them. The fact that she’s with you now, should give you some clue."

"Geez, Midget, tell me how you really feel" Michael joked, but knew Kyle spoke the truth, "I mean, don’t hold back or anything."

"Well, ya piece a shit," Kyle said exasperated, "I’ve been holding this in since Liz left. Buddha teaches us to channel our energy and I’m channeling through all that damn hair of yours and into that puny brain."

Michael knew everything Kyle was saying was true. They’d always been straight with each other. It was one of the things Michael missed about his friendship with Kyle the most. But he also knew that only Liz could really bring Kyle’s point home.

"So," Michael said changing the subject, "You have to tell me something."

"I’ll try Segue Boy" Kyle said chuckling at Michael’s lack of subtlety.

Michael scratched his eyebrow, "I understand why you would help Liz leave Max, but Isabel? She’s always been fiercely loyal to Max. She had to know how much it would hurt him."

Kyle sighed, "She did, but a lot of things changed over the years. The main reason? Alexis."
"That’s why Liz told me she left." Michael whispered, almost to himself.

"You’ve gotta understand that Liz and Isabel always got along, but were never really close." Kyle explained.

"Well, yeah. Liz always had Maria…" Michael agreed.

"And you." Kyle interrupted, "Even after you left Liz and Isabel didn’t really gravitate towards the other. They were both hurting in their own ways over you leaving. Isabel, because she just lost one of her brothers, and Liz, well, that’s more complicated isn’t it?"

Michael nodded over the phone, letting his silence speak for him. He knew his leaving had hurt Isabel, but hearing about it brought it home. He didn’t regret leaving, but he did regret the tears shed over his departure.

Kyle continued, "It wasn’t until Isabel got pregnant with Lexi that she and Liz really connect. When Is and I told Max about the baby, he was…"

"Furious." Michael provided, "Liz told me. Heard you got less than Zen-like on his ass."

Kyle chuckled at the memory, "Not one of my prouder moments, but I think even Buddha himself would’ve decked his royal ass if he’d heard some of the things he’d said."

"Someday you or Liz will have to tell me what he said." Michael said.

"Will do. Maybe after Lexi’s graduated from college. I should be over it by then." Kyle said through his teeth, " Anyway, Isabel, and more importantly Max, was more than a little surprised that Liz was her strongest defender. He expected her to stand with him, and she didn’t. From that moment on, Liz and Isabel were tight. Liz even delivered Lexi. Thank god, because Max and I were nervous wrecks."

"Wow." Was all Michael could say. It didn’t surprise him that Liz had been the one to bring Lexi into the world. She could always keep a cool head in the most chaotic of situations, but the mental picture he had awed him.

"Yeah." Kyle continued, "After that Isabel, Lexi and Liz were inseparable. So, that much time together gave Isabel a whole new perspective on her brother’s marriage, Liz’s. Is knew things were rocky and it hardly escaped her notice that her sister-in-law had taken on decidedly Michael-like quirks, but it was like the blinders were off. She saw how unhappy Liz was.

"See, the other thing is, that parenthood changes everything. Your perspective on life, yourself, and others around you is totally changed by this one little person. You become more focused, clear, and suddenly what goes on around you, is all about how it affects your child.
"When Max started in on Liz her about having a baby of their own, Liz started shutting down. The only time she’d really come to life was when she was just with Lexi, Is and I. Isabel couldn’t ignore that. Liz was withering away inside and Max was trying to use a baby as some sort of magic glue that would hold their relationship together. Not exactly a reason, in anyone’s mind to have a baby."

"So what was the last straw, for Isabel?" Michael asked, entranced by Kyle’s story, and filled with pride that his sister finally opened her eyes when it came to Max.

Kyle sighed heavily, debating on whether to pass the next bit of information on, knowing it might anger Michael the most, but he needed to know, regardless of whether or not Liz had told him, "Liz came over for breakfast one morning after Lexi’s first birthday party…and she had very distinct hand shaped bruises on her upper arms. She finally took herself off autopilot, broke down and told us what happened. Of course it had been Max, trying to get his point across, too roughly."

Michael clenched his jaw at the mental image of Max yanking Liz from the couch and shaking her violently, "I know." He growled, "She told me."

Kyle sighed in relief. He could hear Michael’s anger, but was glad that Liz had been able to at least tell him, "So then you know there was no way in hell Liz could stay. Isabel and I knew we’d all miss her, but how could we not help her? Liz was dying right in front of us and Max wanted to have a baby? No amount of sibling loyalty to her brother would have stopped Isabel from helping her."

"I’m just glad she did." Michael said gratefully.

"Me too." Kyle replied, "So, Liz calls us when he settles somewhere and we send her pictures of Lexi. We miss like crazy, but she’s better off out there, than here with Max. And I know Is will feel a million times better knowing she’s with you."

"And Max?" Michael asked the obligatory question.

"I think we both know Max won’t give up. He still believes that they can work things out, because he wants them to. It’s a fruitless effort to try and convince him otherwise." Kyle said in an exhausted tone.

Michael knew that was the truth, but surely it would take something, "Not even a divorce?" he asked.

"Guess we won’t know until Liz files will we?" Kyle countered.

"She will." Michael said confidently, although unsure at the moment where the certainty came from.

Kyle laughed softly, "Sound pretty sure of that, Michael. You know something we don’t?"

"She doesn’t love him, Kyle." Michael said, finding his answer. He’d seen it last night, heard it in her voice when she talked about him. All that was left with Max was pain.
"Yeah…. She loves you." Kyle told him bluntly.

Michael coughed reflexively at Kyle’s words. It was one thing to entertain the idea of Liz loving him, but to have someone else point it out was another and he suddenly felt uncomfortable, "I…uhh… think I better go, Kyle."

Kyle laughed, "Sure. Run away from love, Guerin…Joyce…whoever."

Michael felt a low growl rise from his throat, " She ran into me."He said without thought.

"Um, yeah Michael, you might want to ponder that one." Kyle returned, "Liz could have cut all her ties to us. She could have made a clean break like Maria…and you, but she didn’t. Liz went out into the world to rediscover who she was and somehow ended up on your doorstep. I hardly call that a coincidence."

"Yeah, yeah." Michael rolled his eyes, "Karmic direction. I know."

"Hey, do not mock, my friend." Kyle argued, "The universe has a plan, whether you like it or not. Liz is with you for a reason. Your job is to figure out what it is, and accept it."

Michael growled again, hating to admit that Kyle had once again pegged his situation with an eerie pin point accuracy, "Look, I really should get going, before Liz wakes up and finds out I stole her address book."

Kyle laughed heartily, "What? Old habits die hard?"

"I guess so." Michael joined in Kyle’s reverie, and then sighed, "I just wanted you guys to know that Liz and I are okay,"

"Or you will be." Kyle added.

"Don’t push it, Hobbit." Michael warned.

"No need to get mean, Jolly Green Giant." Kyle joked, " Just try to call soon okay? I know my wife will want to talk to you, scream at you…whatever. We all miss you. I think even Max does."

"I will." Michael said, easily making the promise as he held Lexi’s photo in his hand, "Hey, put Lexi back on the phone."

"Sure." Kyle said setting the phone down and called out to his daughter.

Michael heard the little girl come bounding into the room, roughing picking up the phone, "Whatcha want Unca Grumpy?"

"I…uh… just wanted to say goodbye and tell you to listen to your daddy. He can’t help it if he’s goofy looking’, but he usually knows what he’s talking about." Michael told her.

Lexi giggled, "Mommy say dat too."

Michael snickered, ‘Well, your mommy always has been a smart lady, but don’t go telling’ her that. Wouldn’t want her to get a big head."

Lexi giggled even harder, ""Dat what Daddy say."

Michael held his sides, the little girl's angelic laughter so very contagious. "Maybe you, Mommy and Daddy can come visit me soon."

"And Auntie Liz?" Lexi pressed.

Michael was a little taken aback that she knew about Liz being with him, but then again he was discovering what an exceptional child Alexis James was, "Um… Yeah… Aunt Liz too. Uh… Lex? You might not want to mention me or your Auntie Liz to Uncle Max."

"Oh I know." Lexi said matter-of-factly, "I keep secret."

"Good." Michael breathed, thinking to himself that this little girl would have to get used to keeping more than a few secrets over her lifetime. He just wished she didn’t have to do it at such a young age.

"Unca Grumpy? Will you give Auntie Liz a kiss for me?" she asked sweetly.

Michael’s eyes widened at Lexi’s request and could distinctly hear Kyle laughing heartily in the background, "Uh… sure thing, Lex." He sheepishly answered.

Lexi found her father’s laughter contagious, "Daddy’s weird." She commented.

"He’s always been that way, kiddo." Michael informed her.

"Okay. Bye Unca Grumpy." Lexi sang, "I wuv you."

Michael felt a lump form in his throat, but managed to get some words past it, "Love you too Lexi." His voice cracked with emotion, "Bye."

He hung up the phone, staring down at Lexi’s picture, the image blurring with the tears that stung his eyes.

"So how is the little munchkin? Liz asked quietly.
Michael’s head shot up, seeing her standing in the kitchen’s entryway. Her was pulled up loosely in a messy bun and an oversized hockey jersey that ended just above her knee, swallowed her lithe form.

He quickly wiped the tears away trying to pass them off with yawn, "She’s… amazing." He said with a proud grin.

His eyes widened as he realized he’d been caught red-handed with Liz’s purse and address book, "Uh…damn… Liz I’m sorry… I just wanted them to know…" he stammered.

Liz held her hand up, smiling, "It’s okay. I was going to call them this morning anyway and Lexi is pretty hard to resist." She said, gesturing at the photo clutched between Michael’s long fingers. She shrugged her shoulders absently, "Besides, I’m sorta used to you stealing my stuff. Journal. Address book… can’t really hide anything from you."

Michael gave her a sheepish grin, acknowledging the accuracy of her statement, and then rose off the barstool, "I talked to Kyle. Isabel was at work."

"How’d that go?" Liz asked making her way over to a cupboard in search of a coffee mug.

Michael let her search, knowing if she was going to make her home with him, she’d want to find tings for herself, "Well, once he got Lexi to stop swearing? It went fine. He’s still…Kyle."

Liz laughed, knowing Kyle’s propensity for swearing in front of his impressionable young daughter. She found the coffee mugs, but groaned and stared up at them forlornly on the second shelf, forgetting she was living with a giant.

Michael smirked at her, the reached up pulling a mug down for her, fixing it the way she liked; cream, no sugar. "I’ll move those down. Forgot what it was like living with a little person."

Liz punched his arm playfully, and accepted the coffee. Michael rubbed his arm, disappearing into the living room for a moment, making a b-line for the stereo. He had a little experiment he wanted to try; as a result of something Kyle had told him about his new roomie.

"Since when did you get into hockey?" he called out, finding the cd he needed.

Liz looked down at her morning attire, realizing she’d been caught, "Someone had to pick up the slack after you left or hockey would have fallen by the wayside at the house." She told him, "Besides, it’s kinda therapeutic. The body checks, fights and the occasional game breaking out."

Michael chuckled, trying to picture Liz watching a hockey game with same amount of fervor he did. He pressed play on the stereo and walked back into the kitchen to join Liz. He was more than amused to find she’d absently began bobbing her head to the beat of the song, mouthing the words to Metallica cover of Whiskey In The Jar..

"I’ll be damned." Michael mumbled under his breath. Kyle was right. But he forgot to mention how sexy it was. Or maybe he was counting it. Impish bastard.

Amused, Michael sat next to Liz arching an eyebrow at her. He watched her mouth another verse to the song, before becoming aware of Michael’s scrutiny. She looked up at him, blushing slightly.

"Metallica huh? He asked, taking another sip from his coffee.

Liz straightened up in her chair, taking on an air of feigned indignance, "Well, I heard them enough when we all lived together. I saw the light. If you can get into Billie Holliday and Miles Davis, I can certainly find the brilliance that is metal. It’s called evolving."

"Fair enough." Michael nodded, "And I sure as hell won’t complain. Although, some might consider your new taste in music a step down."

Liz shook her head, rolling her eyes, "Yeah, well one can only take so much Moby and Counting Crows before one’s head feels it’s about to explode."

Michael chuckled, "No argument here." Guessing that when Liz and Max had gotten married, Max had expected her to adopt all things his.

He could sense any talk of Max wouldn’t be the best way to start the morning, so he changed the subject, "Did you sleep okay?"

Liz nodded emphatically, "Better than I have since you… um, better than I have in a long time. It’s a really comfortable bed and the fan helped."

"Good." Michael said trying to ignore Liz’s slip of the tongue. Better than she had since he’d left. Her mention of the fan brought back the imprinted image of the smooth skin of her back and her dark hair spilling everywhere, "Uh…" his voice cracked, "Because the heat can be hard to get used to."

"I barely noticed." She reassured him. It was true.

She’d never felt more at home anywhere and not even the heat of Death Valley could have kept her awake. Not to mention the dreams that danced through her mind that night, which sent an involuntary blush to her cheeks. She decided to avoid telling Michael that when she’d awakened that morning, she felt a great disappointment that the breeze on her back was the electric fan on her dresser and not his breath seducing her.

"I’m not interrupting your morning routine am I?" she asked, needing to get her mind off of anything related to bedrooms and Michael being in them. Too tempting.
Michael shook his head, "Nah. I mean normally I’d be painting, but that hasn’t been happening for the last week. Stuck I guess."

"Why?" Liz asked, genuinely curious as to what would cause Michael’s creative flowed to be interrupted.

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "Don’t know. Uninspired, I think." He sighed, "In any case, Miriam won’t be happy."

"Miriam?" Liz asked in confusion, feeling a sudden twinge of jealousy. Sure, Michael had told her they hadn’t been anyone in more than five years, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t seeing someone. Taking things slow. But why wouldn’t he have mentioned her.

Michael couldn’t help the amused smirk that came over his face at the flicker of jealousy her heard in Liz’s voice and flashed in her eyes. Maybe Kyle wasn’t so far off the mark. Even if she didn’t love him, at the very least she didn’t like the idea of him with another woman.

"Miriam, is the gallery owner who sells my paintings for me." He supplied, "She’s one of Sweet’s ‘friends."

"Oh." Liz said, slightly embarrassed, but unable to hide her relief, "But I saw all those paintings in your studio. Don’t you have enough for the show?"

"Yeah." Michael agreed, "But the show is in a month and I promised Miriam something different."

"And nothing’s coming?" Liz asked.

Michael shook his head, "She won’t be epically pissed or anything. She’ll take what I have, and they’ll sell, but she wants me to… ‘expand my horizons’."

Liz sipped her coffee, mulling over what Michael had told her. Michael nearly laughed, Liz ever the problem solver. Liz knew not everything in the world could be fixed, but it never hurt to try.

"Well, it’s obvious to me, from those paintings, that you love New Orleans. You paint her as you see her, like a lady. You have, or at least had, a passion for her." She observed.

"Once Sweet taught me how to see her, I just took off." Michael agreed.

Liz set down her mug to face him, "Maybe you just need to find something else that you’re passionate about and paint that. What else do you love?"

Michael swallowed his coffee in a hard gulp, " Now that’s a loaded question." he thought to himself. Hell, he was staring right at it. But there was no way he could admit that to her. Not yet. Things were too tenuous and Michael hated to admit it but he needed a sure thing, especially if he was going to lay his heart on the line for her.

But there was no reason he couldn’t at least test the waters, at least a little. He leaned in a little closer to Liz while she was taking a sip of her coffee, "I’ll let you know when I find it." He whispered.

This time Liz swallowed hard and Michael missed how her eyes fluttered closed for a moment when his breath danced across her neck. She turned her head to meet his eyes, intent on breaking the moment of temptation, only to be met with more. How could she keep her promise to try and discover or rediscover who Michael is, was, had become, when all she could see was his face so close, those darkened amber eyes, and those full inviting lips. God, those sinful lips that had awakened her to the possibility of freedom all those years ago, now mere inches from her own.


Hadn’t she been waiting for this moment since Michael left?

She had to look back at him. Damnit. She had to stare back up at him with those dark brown eyes that men lose their souls in. Temptation came in a variety of forms, just one never so tempting as the slightly parted lips of Liz, waiting, inviting and mere inches from his own.

Hadn’t he been waiting for this since the moment he’d left?

~*~

Michael and Liz sat at the kitchen island, their faces far too close for two people who claimed they were "just friends." They were about to take a giant leap off that cliff into something they both so desperately wanted, but weren’t entirely sure they were ready for.

Salvation, and disappointment, came in the form of a gentle knocking at the front door. Michael’s eyes still held Liz’s their faces stopped, but not parting. After a more insistent knock, Michael smiled, "Sweet…" he whispered.

"What?" Liz asked dimly aware of the knocking, still entranced by Michael’s heated gaze and inviting lips. Sweet, yeah, she remembered Michael’s lips tasting surprisingly sweet…

Abruptly Michael pulled back and got off of his barstool, removing himself from the temptation Liz’s lips so effectively provided, and leaving her utterly confused, "Michael?"

"Uh…Another morning routine." He explained, running an absent hand through his hair, "Sweet comes by around nine to harass me."

"Oh… oh right." Liz nodded her head; sure her cheeks had discovered an entirely new shade of red. She let out a shuddering breath as Michael walked out of the kitchen and to the door. "Not even twenty-four hours, Jeffries and you’re all ready to jump his bones… will power girl." She muttered with a slight groan.

Since when do you knock, Old Man?" Michael asked Sweet as he opened the door.

Sweet smiled brightly as he stepped inside, "Since you got someone, doing a fair impression of a beautiful young lady, to stay the night, Son." His eyes raked over Michael’s form and the state of his undress, no shirt and a pair of old sweats, "Not interrupting anything am I? I’m more than willing to forego our morning ritual, if you were getting a little fancy."

"Fancy?" Michael chuckled, holding up his hand, "Liz and I are…uh… friends." He insisted weakly.

Sweet shook his head as Michael closed the door, "You’ve been out of the game far too long, Michael. A perfectly stunning young woman like Liz, huggin’ you like she was last night…and you have no idea what to do with her?"

The two men stepped into the kitchen where Liz greeted them with a smile, "Cryin’ shame, Michael." Sweet teased, before turning his attention to the exquisite brunette in front of him, "Good morning fair lady. Boss man here been humane to you at this hour?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Liz answered, winking at Michael. Humane? Hell, she’d been about to let him be inhumane all over her body.

Michael pulled down a coffee mug for Sweet, handing the wise cracking old man his morning cup of joe. "Great." He said in mock disdain, "Now I’m gonna have two of you busting my chops."
"Someone has to keep you on Earth." Liz quipped, earning a warning, but hardly threatening, glance from Michael. She quickly looked back over at Sweet and the paper bag clutched in his weathered hands, "Come bearing gifts, Sweet?" she asked.

"Breakfast." He answered shaking the bag, "Will that do?"

He pulled out a still warm croissant; fresh from the bakery a few doors down, and waved it at Liz. Her eyes widened immediately and her stomach grumbled, reminding her it had been awhile since she’d eaten. She hoped down from the barstool and snatched the bag out of Sweet’s hands.

"I think I’ve just found my second husband." Liz mused as she opened the bag and smelled the heavenly pastry.

Sweet chuckled, "Well that would make you Number Five, Liz. Maybe that’s my lucky number."

Michael rolled his eyes at Sweet’s shameless flirting, "Uh, sorry, Pop, but she still has to divorce the first one."

Michael’s own errant observation caused both he and Liz to freeze, and a sudden understanding passed between them. Michael hadn’t meant any malice by it, but it was the truth. And in that truth they’d both found the reason they weren’t ready to admit their feelings, give in to their desires, for one another. Liz had to cut that final thread with Max before either of them could allow anything to happen. Liz was freer, not free.

"D-Did everything get closed up okay last night?" Michael asked Sweet quickly, wanting to rid the room of the awkward silence that had settled in.

"No problems." Sweet said, pretending he hadn’t noticed yet another secretive glance pass between the two young people in front of him, "But I did fax an order for some more Jack Daniels. That should be here in about an hour."

Michael nodded, "I’ll take care of it. I need to show Liz around the bar anyway since she’s the new waitress."

Sweet let out an exaggerated sigh of relief; " Finally we’ll have some decent scenery ‘round the place. No offense, Son, but you don’t exactly make men’s hearts sing when they look at ya. Now Liz here…I definitely see an increase in business with her waiting tables."

Michael furrowed his brow and folded his arms over his chest, "I take it back Liz, you can stay behind the bar…I’ll wait tables…
Liz laughed at Michael’s protective nature shining through, "I do know my way around bars, Michael…and it’s more rowdy patrons. How many did you and I work in before you left?"

"A few." Michael grumbled, "And I do recall having to acquaint more than few ‘rowdy patrons’ with my fist on your behalf, Liz."

"And it was always appreciated." Liz said gripping his chin, squeezing his cheeks together comically. "Just promise me I won’t have to wear a uniform that was anything like the one I wore at that dive in Boulder…"

"Cheeky’s?" Michael laughed, raising an amused eyebrow, "I always had a great view."

"I take it they left little to the imagination?" Sweet inquired.

"To say the least." Liz rolled her eyes, "Think, normal sized women squeezed into Barbie sized clothes and then shrink it in the dryer."

Michael tapped his chin with his finger in thought, "Remind me to order uniforms, Sweet…New look for the bar."

Liz arched an eyebrow at Michael, "Fine, but you have to wear it too, Boss Man."

"Oh no, Son." Sweet said holding his hands up in protest, "I could go the rest of my life without that burned into my addled brain. Liz, baby, you wear what you want. No dress code at the bar."

"Not even ‘No shirt. No shoes. No problem?’" Liz kidded.

"Yeah, like I’m gonna complain if you walk around without a shirt." Michael teased back, and then looked down at himself; "In fact I’m following that particular dress code at the moment. Come on Liz. Apartment policy, effective immediately."

"You wish." Liz dismissed him with a wave, unable to hide the blush on her cheeks. She turned to Sweet for a distraction, "Now how is it that you have four ex-wives, Sweet?"

The elderly Lothario shook his head and placed his hand over his heart, "Alas Liz, I am a man with a great capacity for love in my heart. Every single one of my exes was beautiful, unique and I loved them completely. Not to mention all the near Mrs."

"What Sweet’s not telling you, "Michael remarked dryly, "Is that he didn’t bother to stop loving Number One before falling for Number Two…Then Number Three… and…"

"Can’t help the way the good Lord made me, Michael." Sweet sighed.
Liz giggled, "So is there a Number Five on the horizon?"

"Oh I’m sure out there somewhere is the greatest love of my life. Maybe that’s why my other marriages never worked. My true love still hasn’t found me."

Michael watched Liz’s face fall and she took a deep breath, "Trust me, Sweet. While it’s a nice notion, I’m not sure there is such a thing as true love."

"Ah now…" Sweet tutted her, "You sure it doesn’t exist? Or is that maybe you’ve yet to feel it or recognize it?"

Michael hung his head, knowing what Liz’s answer would be. She had known true love and it failed her. Max.

Liz thought for a moment, looking over at Michael and his undeniably defeated stance, "You know something Sweet?" she grinned, "You just might be right."

Michael’s head shot up in astonishment. That certainly hadn’t been the answer he’d been expecting from her. Liz still had a bit of the romantic inside her. Perhaps Max hadn’t completely jaded her. Or maybe he’d jaded her just enough to be realistic. To know that love should exist without massive amounts of pain. Whatever it was she believed now, Michael saw her hope, and in that found he still had some hope of his own.

"So tell me Sweet," Liz said, quickly changing the subject, "How did you and Michael meet?"

Michael’s eyes widened, "Uh…you don’t really want to know that do you?" he said nervously.

Sweet chuckled, "Oh come on, Michael. It’s not that embarrassing."

"Now I definitely want to know." Liz said, excitedly.

Michael was about to protest again when Liz stuffed a croissant in his mouth. He growled through the pastry, "Fine." He said chewing, "Just keep in mind that I did a lot of stupid things for money."

Liz mind went to places forbidden and she burst out laughing, "Oh Sweet, please tell me you met Michael at a male stripper review."

Michael coughed, choking on his croissant at Liz’s notion, "In you dreams, Jeffries. I don’t dance. Period. Although, feel free to add that to your fantasy file."

"No, Liz. I met Michael at a bar I used to work at on Bourbon Street." Sweet provided, before Michael got himself in any more trouble. "Hard not to notice a kid in a jazz bar, sporting a Metallica T-shirt and a sketchpad. Not to mention what he was drawing…" He paused for a moment studying Liz, "Well I’ll be damned…"

Michael cleared his throat at Sweet and shook his head subtly. Sweet nodded and continued with his story.

"Things were pretty boring for yours truly. Wife number Four had walked out on my foolish hide a few moths earlier and I found comfort in the woes of my patrons. Not that I enjoyed them being down mind you. It just reminded me that there were people worse off than I was. You get a lot of perspective when you’re behind the bar instead staring at the bottom of the glass.

"Anyway, this bar I worked at had a gimmick. A contest, if you will. One thing you have to know about New Orleans, Liz, is that we love our food Satan hot and leaving us in pain. So this contest was five hundred dollars to anyone who could eat a pepper. Not just any peeper, but a Scotch Bonnet. You familiar with those?"

Liz nodded, "I think it’s used in Jamaican cooking. But isn’t that something like the hottest pepper in the world?"

"If not, "Sweet confirmed, "It should be. You can’t pick one up without wearing rubber gloves. So hot we had the paramedics take away some of the weaker fools. At any rate we had a crowd of dumbass and drunken college boys there one night, throwing around their testosterone trying to prove who was the alpha male by taking on the Scotch Bonnet challenge, all failing miserably.

"After about the fifth college boy ran out of the room sputtering and crying ‘bout the devil trying to burn him from the inside out with the pepper, I notice Michael shaking his head at them from his corner table. You know how quiet Michael can be, but when you to take notice you don’t forget."

"He does make an impression." Liz agreed. Michael blew out a puff of air, trying not to seem amused.

"Well, I wasn’t the only one who noticed Michael." Sweet continued, "Those college boys saw him shaking his head and didn’t take kindly to that. No M’am, not at all."

Liz groaned, "You didn’t get in a fight did you? Because you know you have this uncanny ability to mock…" she asked Michael.

"Shhh." Michael said putting a finger to her lips, "Let Pop finish the story. Besides it can’t be helped if some people just beg to be mocked. A lot."

"So," Sweet pressed on, although enjoying the none-too-subtle flirting happening between Michael and Liz, "These boys called Michael over and challenged him…to eat the pepper. But just to make it more interesting, not only would he get the cash prize from the bar, but each of those boys put up a hundred dollars of their own beer money."
Liz ran a had over her face, looking between her fingers at Michael, "You didn’t…"

Michael smirked, "Oh, but I did, Liz. I needed the money and I had a talent that needed to be exploited." Liz widened her eyes a Michael and he laughed, "Don’t worry I told Sweet about my being born with uh… weird taste buds."

Liz relaxed a bit and then smirked, "You know genetics is not talent, Michael."

Michael shrugged his shoulders, "Got me a fifteen hundred bucks and a job." He returned, quite satisfied wit the end result.

"That’s true enough, Sweet laughed, wiping his eyes, "You should have seen the looks on those college boy’s faces when Michael bit into one Scotch Bonnet, didn’t flinch and then proceeded to eat another one. Oh, the Lord was smiling down on Michael that day. Yes M’am.

"Now those boys were drunk, but honorable and they paid Michael every red cent. Afterwards, Michael and I got to talkin’, all night if I recall. We’d just lost a bartender, so we needed a new one. I needed someone somewhat interesting…"

"Michael does qualify as interesting." Liz quipped, "Somewhat."

Before Michael could retaliate, Sweet continued with his story, "So I gave him the job. I asked him about his art and while he was reluctant at first…well I can charm anyone, though Michael was definitely more difficult."

"Don’t even think about it, Liz." Michael warned as he saw her smirk and open her mouth to comment.

Sweet laughed at Liz’s pout and pressed on, "Michael finally showed me his sketchbook and I was immediately struck. The boy had the most stunning portraits I’d ever seen. The emotion. The little details…" He looked at Liz then up at Michael winking, "Just stunning. Then he showed me some of the newer ones he’s been working on. They were different places around New Orleans. They were rough, but they had potential. Just needed the right eye. He needed to really see the beauty of the city and capture it, like he did in his sketches of y…"

Sweet’s last word was cut off quickly when Michael coughed purposely. The old man realized what he’d almost said and gave Michael an apologetic look, "Well, like in his portraits." He covered, " So the next day I took Michael out and showed him my lady, New Orleans."

"Never seen her the same way since." Michael told Liz.

"Any chance I could get that tour?" Liz asked Sweet.

"Exactly what I had in mind, lady fair. Go get dressed and I’ll introduce you to Her."
Liz’s eyes lit up with excitement and she looked to Michael, making sure he didn’t need her at the bar immediately, "Yeah. Go on" he told her, like he could have said no if he wanted to, "I just need you back here by five."

Liz’s excitement faded a bit, "Oh. You aren’t coming with us?"

Michael shook his head, "Got a bar to run. You remember what it was like running your own business." He said with a wink. Liz grew up in her parent’s café. She knew how to run a business better than anyone. "I’ll see ya when you get back. I swear you’ll be a different person."

"Is that what it did for you?" Liz asked, having no doubt that Michael’s love affair with New Orleans and the way Sweet had taught him to see Her had turned Michael into the man he was today.

"Among other things." He told her holding Liz’s eyes with his own, leaving little doubt that she, even in her absence from his life, had been a part of it too.

They were reminded of Sweet’s presence in the room when he cleared his throat and encouraged Liz to get ready, "Well… go on girl. Scoot! New Orleans waits for no man…. and especially no woman. She’s a beauty, but She gets jealous."

Liz nodded and disappeared into her bedroom. Sweet turned to Michael, finding his young friend’s eyes on Liz’s door, "I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her last night." Sweet admonished himself. The sketches. I mean you hardly forget a face like that."

"Yeah." Michael said in a slightly defeated sigh, "You hardly do." He snapped out of his wistful tone and scratched at his eyebrow, "Just. Uh, do me a favor and don’t tell her about those sketches you saw when we met. I’m, not sure I’m ready for her to…"

Sweet held up his hand and nodded, "I understand, Michael." His voice was gentle and fatherly; "I’m beginning to understand a lot of things with Liz in the picture."

~*~

Sweet and Liz spent the whole day together and she easily began to see New Orleans through the old man’s eyes. Her moods, Her unending beauty, and Her overwhelming charm.

"How can you not fall in love with Her after seeing Her through your eyes?" Liz thanked him as they sat at a sidewalk café sipping afternoon tea.

Sweet chuckled at her excitement, thinking the same thing about Liz through Michael’s eyes, through those sketches. Her moods, her unending beauty, and her overwhelming charm. Although it had been four years since he’d seen those pictures Michael drew, Sweet now marveled at how he’d captured all of Liz. But there was one thing the live model lacked now, that every one of those sketches held in some way.

"Sadness…" Sweet whispered.

"Pardon?" Liz asked, not having heard his utterance.

"Oh sorry Liz," Sweet began to explain, "But being an old barman I don’t just notice things about my city, but Her people too."

"And you notice something about me?" she asked intrigued, "Should I be worried?"

Sweet chuckled "Don’t worry. I’m honest, but I’m kind."

Liz nodded, "I think that’s why Michael likes you so much, your honesty. Michael never liked…"

"To beat around the bush?" Sweet finished, "Yeah, I kinda figured that the minute I met him."

"So, what is it you ‘notice’ about me?" Liz asked, a little less fearful of what Sweet might have observed about her. He was such a charming and disarming man; it was easy to let your guard down around him.

Sweet studied Liz for a moment, although he really didn’t need to. The whole day spent with her had given him quite a glimpse into this remarkable young woman and namely, why it was Michael was so very much in love with her. "I get the sense that you used to be a lot sadder than you are now."

Liz worried her lip a bit, but nodded, "Yeah."

"And I sense that Michael has played a big part in your return to happiness… as well as the lingering sadness. How am I doin’?" sweet observed.

"Too well." Liz said with a nervous laugh.

"I’m sorry Darlin’." Sweet apologized regretting any discomfort he’d brought to her with his observations, "Reading people is a gift. Not exactly one I can turn off."

Liz chuckled, "Believe me Sweet, I know a little something about that."

Sweet was admittedly confused by her last comment, but shrugged it off, "Well, I won’t push. You’re part of Michael’s past…present and well… He and I came to an agreement when we met, that I wouldn’t push him about his past no matter how curious I am. After all, part of what shapes a man in what he left behind, right?"
"That’s an understatement." Liz mused. "What has Michael told you?" She was curious as to what he’d shared with his kind old man, given Michael’s tendency to trust no one.

"Not much really. Just that he left behind some people he cared about. Family. But that he had to go. It hurt him too much to stay." Sweet provided, "That was enough for me. I could see that hurt in his eyes. Though I must say that hurt diminished substantially when you showed up."

Liz blushed involuntarily, and then shook her head in amazement. "What’s wrong, Liz?" he asked.

"Oh it nothing." She tried to brush it off, but then decided against it, "It’s just that you got Michael to admit to even half of what he was feeling. You have to understand what an incredible feat that is for anyone." Liz explained, "He’s not exactly one to trust people in general, let alone older men."

Sweet nodded, "I sensed that about Michael. What he doesn’t know is how much he…"

"Wears his every emotion in his eyes? Body?" Liz finished, "Yeah. Only it took me a while to figure that out. I was so damn preoccupied with… my life."

"You don’t have to answer me, Darlin’, but I take it Michael had a less than loving childhood." Sweet said.

Liz sighed, "Michael, didn’t have a childhood, Sweet. I can’t tell you much, except that Michael lived with a man who saw fit to take out his problems on Michael’s face, body…" she trailed off, "It was bad. And nobody really knew or did anything about it until he was in high school."

"Sweet shook his head, "I figured as much and that’s a shame, but it makes me appreciate his trust in me a lot more. Thank you, Liz." He closed his eyes trying not to think about what a younger bruised Michael might have looked like. Pained his heart too much to see it. "I guess Michael is the closest thing to a son I’ve ever had."

Liz’s eyes widened a bit, "All those ex-wives and you don’t have any children?

Sweet smiled, "The good Lord gave me a great many gifts, Liz, but he did not give me seeds to sow."

"Oh…" Liz said, "I … uh… I’m sorry."

Sweet patted her hand in reassurance, "Don’t be sorry. I figure He was just waitin’ to send Michael my way."

Liz’s face brightened with her smile, "I’m so glad He did."

"Sent you here too, He did." Sweet pointed out, "And Michael is more alive than I have ever seen him."

Liz blushed again, " Well, I don’t know…" Liz protested.
"I do." Sweet told her matter-of-factly. "I see it in you too, but you’re both afraid to let go of that last little bit of the past. Both been burned. In your case, that husband of yours."

Liz marveled at Sweet’s uncanny ability to get right to the source of the problem on very little information. It was no wonder Michael could open up to this man.

"I guess you’re right." Liz conceded, "But it is a little more complicated than that. My ex…husband, is for all intents and purposes Michael’s brother."

"I know." Sweet nodded, "The same brother who has to everything his way and everyone under his control like some sort of…monarch. Especially you."

Liz couldn’t deny it, "Yeah. That’s Max alright."

"But you left him Liz…To be with Michael." Sweet pointed out.

"I… not just for that…I mean…" Liz stammered.

Sweet squeezed Liz’s delicate hand in his old weathered one, "I know you left for reasons other that Michael and I know he’s proud of you for those reasons alone, but a big part of you was looking for Michael, even if you won’t admit it. And I can tell you he’s glad to have you back in his life. Question becomes: How big a part do you want in his life?"

"Huge." Liz admitted effortlessly.

Sweet chuckled at her honesty and Liz was entranced by the way Sweet’s laughter seemed to touch even his dark eyes, "Well, we both know Michael pretty well. He’s an all or nothing kinda fella. Which means you got ta let go of the past if you want to be part of his future."


"I know." Liz said a bit mournfully, "And by staying tied to Max I’m just letting him keep some control over me and that crutch will only last so long."

"Exactly, Darlin’. So now you know what you have do?" he asked her.

Liz nodded, putting on her best Louisiana drawl, "I need to buy me a big ol’ pair o’ scissors."

~*~

Michael rose at his usual time the next morning and readied the coffee. He took his place out on the balcony watching the business owners open their shops up. Last night when Liz got back from her tour of the city with Sweet, she was definitely changed. She seemed lighter and if a weight had been lifted off her. He was fairly certain it had little do with New Orleans Herself and everything to do with his grinning bartender.

Sweet was mum about their discussion no matter how much Michael pressed. He just watched as Liz practically skipped from table to table, taking orders and delivering drinks.

She’d regaled him with all the sites sweet had taken her to see, the rich history of the city. It was the same look she got n her face when she’d find a class to take at the university in whatever new state they were in all those years ago. Liz was hopelessly in love with The Big Easy.

Michael thumbed through his old sketchbook with her face on every page and something Sweet had said to him last night, echoed through his mind. Liz was charming a table of Shriners, when she looked up at Michael and her smile widened.

"That smile alone belongs on