PYGMALION

 

by DocPaul

 

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen: Juliet is dying.

 

Day Sixteen: Wednesday,  12:13 am

 

“Are you talking to me yet?”

 

“No.” Tess turned on her side to continue reading, but it was impossible to get comfortable.

 

“Tess...”

 

“Don’t ‘Tess’ me!” She closed her book and tossed it across the room. Sitting up, her stomach hurt. Her back hurt. To say she was unsettled would have been an understatement. “You could’ve died!”

 

Kyle flopped back in the bed. “Yes, I could have. So could anyone else who was being held hostage in the bank. I wasn’t in there because I was a cop, Tess. I was in there because like a normal person, I stopped at the bank this morning.”

 

“I know.” Tess covered her eyes for a moment. “I know it, but my heart doesn’t. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, Kyle. Not like Jack. Not again.”

 

Kyle pulled Tess into his arms. “I can’t promise it won’t happen. I can promise that I won’t take unnecessary chances. Every day, I swear to you, Tess. I swear! I will think of nothing but coming home to you. You and the baby. Babies. I can’t promise more than that.”

 

Tess kissed him. Running her hand up his face, she searched his eyes. He was so incredibly beautiful. His brown eyes were warm and friendly. Sexy. He had a mischievious look and a great fun loving personality. All those years, even after Jack, he had remained her oldest and best friend. That short year they were apart and not talking, hurt more than she could say. It was like having her heart cut out knowing he was near, just not speaking to her.

 

“When you took that bullet over a year ago. I thought I almost lost you then. I remember sitting there, crying beside your bed. You hurt me, Kyle. You were there, and yet so far away.

 

“Tess. I was here. I had things to work through. It wouldn’t have mattered. No matter how long it took, I was going to find my way back to you.”

 

Tess kissed him. “I wish you had done it sooner. This baby would’ve been yours, not Max’s, not that I regret that either. We just spent too much time running away from each other.”

 

Kyle laughed. “It’s okay. The baby. Us. Even Max. It feels right. Now, did I tell you about how many kids I wanted?”

 

Tess pinched him. “Wait until this one is born before you start making requests. A few weeks with late night feedings and no sleep, and you might change that tune, mister.”

 

“Poopie diapers. I say we give Max all the poopie diaper detail. I’ll take care of feeding.”

 

Tess seemed to be pondering Kyle’s plan. “You realize that I’m breast feeding, so your supervision would be, what?”

 

Kyle kissed the side of her neck and up to her ear. He bit the lobe softly and then said huskily in her ear, “Watching.”

 

Tess stopped smiling and looked at him. Oh, damn... He was so sexy. How was a woman supposed to keep her hands off him? Oh God, he was so damn beautiful. There was no telling a man that, but it didn’t make it any less true. He was still self-conscious about the scars on his shoulder from where the bullet and then the surgery had ripped through.

 

Tess touched them, feathering her fingers over the rough edges of the skin that had slowly mended. It was like a benediction, touching him. Touching them. There were many things about Kyle, but mostly he lived with his heart and soul. Every ounce of his honor was part of his makeup. He was her husband.

 

"You should never be ashamed of these, Kyle. You're alive. That's the most important thing." Tess said quietly. His face was a bit of a mask. Her ability to read his emotions almost scared him sometimes.

 

Tess continued to run her hands over his scars in a soothing motion. She wanted to tell him that they were erotic, that because they marked his skin and because they were his, they were an incredible turn-on for her. But the words were dying in her throat as she watched his face.

 

Sometimes just the sight of him unnerved her. Stole her breath, and with it all the words she needed to say. With Jack it was always easier. For both of them. Jack was open in a way other people wished they could be. He just understood one thing. Love. Love for Tess. Love for Kyle. There was nothing else, and he never apologized or denied it. Not to either of them.

 

Kyle too, was struggling for words...

 

He wasn’t Jack. Those words, expressions and feelings welled up inside, searching for a way out. He wanted to tell her everything about himself, but he lost the words whenever he looked at her. She was so much more than he was. So strong. Powerful. Beautiful. And an alien.

 

The amazement was that she ever loved him. For the longest time he was afraid that Tess only wanted him in her bed because it was what Jack wanted. It took him a long time to realize that Tess was her own woman, and she didn’t skimp on expressing her love, not to anyone.

 

Perhaps it was doubt that kept him away. It was hard to say. But he wasn’t going anywhere ever again. Ten long years he fought with his love of one woman, a woman he couldn’t have, and now he had everything. Nothing was more important than she was. Nothing.

 

"Tess...I..."

 

"Shhh..." she murmured, bringing the finger that has been tracing across his flesh up to his lips.

 

Their breath was coming quicker as she moved back slightly and pulled her night gown over her head. She normally slept nude, but lately with the advanced pregnancy she liked to sleep in one of his old t-shirts. Kyle knew he was gaping at her breasts. He couldn’t help it. They were exquisite. A little large for her frame now, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. No, they were firm. Wonderfully firm and high...her nipples were erect already with her arousal. She was flushed as well. God, he loved her pregnant. Did great things to her body, and better things to her libido. Did better things for him. Something about her was so feminine and intense. It rocked him on his feet.

 

He finally managed to swallow deep enough to unfreeze himself from the stare and touch her. He was touching her breasts and he was in ecstasy. He knew she would be so soft, so warm. So...vibrantly alive. Running a finger over her left nipple, slowly, erotically. he tenderly repeat the motion on her other nipple.

 

"Oh God...." she whispers.

 

"You're beautiful," Kyle whispered back. An added advantage to her pregnancy was how sensitive her breasts were. It was a total turn-on.

 

Tess brought her hand up and places it over his as he knead her flesh, tweaked her nipple between his fingers.

 

"You have gorgeous hands, Kyle. They...they're so warm and strong."

 

Kyle moved his hand from her nipple and bought it and his other hand up onto her shoulders. drawing her to him. Their kisses increased in passion again as his erection pressed against her, tipped up and rubbed against her stomach. This time both of them were moaning before they broke the kiss.

 

"I'd better go slower," he suggest raggedly, looking down into her eyes. They were luminous. Brilliant blue, almost shiny with emotion. They glow deep down with her heat. Kyle groaned. He could get lost in those eyes.

 

"Yeah..." she breathed out slowly as well and Kyle chuckled under his breath as he lowered his mouth to her breasts.

 

“This is going to slow things down? You think?” Tess said in exasperation.

 

Kyle smiled against her skin, and slowly moved back to let his eyes travel over her body. They took in every inch of her perfectly formed petite body pregnant and fertile. His eyes finally settle on that spot between her legs. On the soft, downy patch of light curly hair that was at the apex of her thighs. Kyle gazed with eyes hooded, and couldn't help it. He licked his lips.

 

She had her arms crossed over her breasts. Kyle paused. She was suddenly a little shy? It reminded him of when they were young. How vulnerable he thought her. She really was even though she'd probably kicked him in the slats if she heard him suggest it. Kyle smiled finding it terribly touching that unexpected return to their youth.

 

Gently pulling her arms away from her breasts and lifting her right hand up, he bent to kiss her palm.

 

"You should never...cover...something...this lovely." Kyle said huskily. “I love this shyness.”

 

Tess unexpectedly hit him on the back of his head. “This isn’t shyness, you putz! It is called over-sensitivity. Damn, Kyle. I didn’t want to be gone, tired and ready for sleep before I even got you at the starting gate.” Damn pregnant breasts were both a blessing and a curse. One touch and she was ready to jump out of her skin.

 

Kyle sat up and looked at her. His eyes were gleaming in delight. “You used a racing analogy!”

 

His woman. Perfect!

 

Kyle attacked her, his deeper laughter joining her lighter more carefree one. Oh hell. He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

 

~~~

 

Max was running late. It was already after nine when he got to work. Jonathan had kept him up most the night and into the early morning, ending up the damn shower. He was lucky to get out the door. The date at the restaurant had been a complete success. Max smiled to himself.

 

Fun. He was having real fun for the first time in his life. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this carefree and happy in any relationship he ever had. It was just there. All of it. They both were keeping things from the other, but they sort of had a respectful distance with an understanding that they would share once it was possible.

 

Strange.

 

His other relationships had all started about the same. He would feel an overpowering transfixed attraction to a woman, even to Jonathan. It bordered on pathetically love-struck, and highly unrealistic. It was like he was looking for a woman with stars in her eyes. Something more in her body that could match and draw from him what was buried deep inside. His heart. And he would follow, moon and brood over the woman until he had her, then he would promptly drop her because she wasn’t the one. It was a tragic, never-ending circle. He had the lovesick pup look down.

 

His relationship with Jonathan started  out in the same way. He was standing there in shock, mouth wide open, eye dilated and a sense of ‘wow’ on his face. Jonathan took one look and made a sound of disgust. Those first few dates, Jonathan was almost harsh in so many ways. He was arrogant and exacting, telling Max he didn’t want someone who mooned after him, but rather wanted an equal partner. He taunted and pushed Max so much, that Max’s natural instinctual defenses revved up. He took a firm ground. The difference was amazing.

 

He was happy, feeling a part of something bigger than himself without this overwhelming need to be all romantic and dewy eyed. Love. Who knew it could be so reaffirming? He felt strong on his own, not because Jonathan supported him, but because he didn’t need support. Jonathan just made it easier, because he knew that if he needed him, Jonathan would be there.

 

“Damn! Stop daydreaming and either get in the elevator, you fag, or move out of the way!”

 

Max entered the elevator and noticed other people avoiding his eyes as the burly offensive uniform got into the elevator with his snickering buddies. Max made eye contact with them, and without flinching reached out and read the nameplate pinned on the chest of the largest uniform.

 

“Jenkins, it's Evans. I’ve got a uniform of yours that seems to have a problem with people’s personal sexual preferences. I think he needs some beat time to learn tolerance and understanding of what it means to serve and protect. The name is Leonards, badge number 17883. Let's make sure he realizes that serving and protecting extends to all people, regardless of race, color, creed or sexual preference. Put him on the downtown beat. Thanks.”

 

Max hung up his phone. The uniforms weren’t snickering anymore, and most of the people in the elevator stood away from Max giving him a lot more space. Power. It was intoxicating. Some had it in their blood, some were just born with it. Either way, words meant little. Power affected Max hardly at all. He took those words flung at him, and he demonstrated how powerful he was. Leonards would remember him well as he tended the blisters on his feet from walking a beat for the next two weeks or so. Fag town. Racer joints. The nice seedy underbelly of Roswell society was waiting for him. Max made a note to self to call Jenkins again and make sure Leonards helped served in the soup kitchen under the guise of keeping the peace.

 

Max’s floor couldn’t come quickly enough, and when the doors opened, people cleared a path for him, wishing him a good morning.

 

Then his morning went to shit.

 

Rhonda handed over the first report.

 

“You’re kidding, right?”

 

Rhonda just shook her head no.

 

Max looked at his watch and whistled. This had to be a record. “They’ve only been on duty an hour. How…?”

 

“They were feeling good, so they came in an hour early.”

 

Max moaned. “Where are they?”

 

“They're on their way back in.”

 

Max put his hands on his hips and looked out thoughtfully at the bullpen. “Fine. Have them write up their reports immediately. I want them on my desk ASAP. Then I want to see them both ten minutes after.”

 

Rhonda withheld a chuckle. Oh, some poetic justice was in the works! Cap was going to love this. “There is one more thing.”

 

Max looked into his now empty coffee cup. Of course there was. There was always just one more thing. He was going to need more coffee.

 

“Hit me.”

 

“Hanson and Banks. They were on late desk last night. There was an incident.”

 

“There is always an incident. Do I have anything resembling a report?”

 

Rhonda snickered. “You know Hanson.”

 

Max sighed and held out his hand as Rhonda sympathetically handed him a huge sheaf of paper. The anal report-writing Hanson had struck again. He was the only detective who made a career of putting every detail into his report, down to the perpetrator’s shoe size.

 

“Let me get some more coffee and about ten minutes to scan this, then send them to me!”

 

Max had a feral look in his eyes as he charged the coffeemaker in the breakroom. Someone better not have left it dry.

 

Max kept reading, ignoring the two detectives standing in front of his desk. Taking his time, he read the report slowly, so as to pick up all the nuances. Banks was the first to break. She cleared her throat.

 

“Something, Detective?”

 

“No, Sir. It’s just…”

 

“Good. Stand fast. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Max went back to reading. If someone takes the time to write a book report, he should at least read it. Finally done, he closed the folder and glared at the two of them.

 

“So the call came at three in the morning?”

 

“Yes, Sir. And…” Max sat back and let her ramble on with her excuses, showcasing her ability to somehow foist the greater of the blame on Sam’s head.

 

“Thank you, Banks. That was pretty much in the report.” Max put his hands clasped together on top of the folder. “Hanson, comments? Input?”

 

Hanson looked uncomfortable. “The call came in, Sir. We responded. There were reports of activity in a junction section of the sewage system running under the streets. Due to the recent activity with narcotics, the making and movement of them, we - my partner and I - and three uniforms went to investigate.”

 

“So this led to a quarter mile of underground sewage pipes exploding?”

 

“It was just a methane flash, Sir. The system was undamaged according to the city inspector. We called the city's plant department immediately.”

 

“I see.” Max picked up a letter from the inspector. “It seems that the inspector believes you are without blame. So I just want to know what went on. How did this happen exactly? Your report is unclear.”

 

Hanson cleared his throat. “We followed the sewage tunnels until we came to this intersection. Following it onward we came to a cavern, sort of large. It was a planning relay that they use for heavy equipment to do work down there. Sir, someone had moved in.”

 

“Moved in?”

 

Courtney looked uncomfortable.

 

Hanson continued. “Set up house in that methane filled cavern. We went to investigate, and there was a voice. It laughed and said, ‘See ya!’ and then we heard a match being struck.”

 

“That’s when you ran?”

 

Hanson nodded. They had barely made it to the nearest access ladder out of the tunnels before a raging inferno of exploded methane gas filled the area. “We returned after the inspector cleared the area. There were charred rats, and the cavern area had nothing left to pick through. Just ash.”

 

Sam Hanson met Max’s eyes, and the man nodded in understanding. “Well, there’s not much that can be done. You did right to check it out. You’re dismissed.” He waited as they started to file out and called to Hanson. “One moment, Hanson. I need to see you. Banks, you go on and finish your report. I want it by the end of the day.”

 

Hanson stood there until the door closed, at which point his body seemed to relax.

 

“What’s going on, Sam? What didn’t you say in your report?”

 

Sam looked out the glass and noticed his partner watching. So he just shrugged. “It’s the situation, Sir.”

 

“Can the ‘Sir’ stuff and just tell me.”

 

“The person in the tunnel. I got a glimpse of him.”

 

“You said you didn’t, that you just heard a voice.”

 

Sam cleared his throat. “No, Max. I saw him. There was more than just one, but I got a look at the one closest to the entrance. The one who said ‘See ya!’ was very clear in my sight.” Max waited. Sam took his time. He was exact. “It was Michael Guerin. I swear. Slightly different dress. Leather, tattoos and strange hair, but it was him. No mistake. Someone who looked close enough like him to be a twin.”

 

Max put his hands on the desk in shock.

 

“One other thing, Max?” Max gestured for him to continue. “The match that was struck? It wasn’t from this Guerin-look-alike. It came from my right side. I heard it strike. It was my partner. Courtney exploded the methane.”

 

~~~

 

She went down two floors before finding a phone in a nice relatively empty corridor. It took three rings to get an answer.

 

“This is Courtney.”

 

The pause was telling. Great. They were pissed. Who gave a fuck? “Are you reporting that Vilandra has been neutralized?”

 

Courtney swore. “In case you haven’t noticed, there was a fire at the loft complex. The Commander installed new security. It’s tight, with double backups. Breaking the connection without a key triggers the internal security. There is no way to get to her right now, not while they’re on high alert. She moved in with her boyfriend for a short period, but both she and her roommate are back in their place as of today.”

 

“Your orders…”

 

“I know. I’ll do it as soon as it’s possible.” Courtney looked around, rechecking the hall. “We’ve got bigger problems. The Dupes are here. They have no doubt come for the Granilith.”

 

~~~

 

Max’s head was hurting. Holding it, all he could think was, “...my head is...my head is starting...my head is starting to pound...” Fucking Valenti and DeLuca. A nightmare.

 

"Max, I think if you just read the letter you have in your hand from the Roswell Electric and Power Company, you'll realize that blowing up the substation was a total ac....

 

"Sean."

 

"Yes, sir?"

 

"There is no excuse."

 

"Yes, Max, but..."

 

"But, Max, Sean is right. Under the circumstances, the...uh, incident was hardly our fault..."

 

"So, you admit that it wasn’t my fault..."

 

"I didn't say that....I..." Kyle said out of the corner of his mouth at his partner. Oh, it was definitely his fault. Did he have to be in such a chipper mood, see an taillight out and decide to correct the problem? No. Did he have to stop a truck carrying stolen cows? No. Did he have to give chase when the modern day rustlers decided to run? No. No. No! He could’ve stopped at Krispy Krème and gotten them some donuts. Coffee.

 

"Hey, but you just did...you said..."

 

"Hello, remember me? I'm still here, and I did call this meeting after all..." Max said before the dumb and dumber twins went off on another tangent regarding whose fault it was.

 

"Sorry, Max," Sean said meekly, earning a look of suspicion from his partner.

 

"Yes, sorry, Max."

 

"Fine. There is no possible excuse or justification for blowing up an Electric and Power Company substation. I don’t care how many letters you forced….or got people to write for you."

 

"Yes, Max. But..." Sean swore under his breath. How did Max know that they used friendly persuasion? Hey, they told them they could keep the cows. That was something.

 

At times like these, Max really wanted to just reach over the desk, grab both Sean and Kyle by the throat, and just end the madness. That was a stark awakening. All the times he and Michael had stood across from this desk, and still lived to tell the tale. Captain Jim Valenti was a saint.

 

For the love of the living God! How in the hell was he going to justify that two of the detectives under his command blew up an electrical substation that blacked out the entire northern section of Roswell during the busy "getting ready for work" hours of the morning? How could he possibly rewrite the report so that the power truck they were trailing, a truck that had some kind of malfunction more pressing than a burned out turn indicator, crashed into the substation, blowing it to kingdom come? He needed something more urgent, more significant. No brakes? He couldn’t tell the Chief that his two detectives decided to pull over a truck for an burnt out turn signal and ended up on a dangerous chase through the northern suburbs of Roswell at seven in the morning. Christ's blood! It's lucky half the town of Roswell wasn’t blown up with it. Wasn’t having a mad bomber on the loose enough?    And of course there was an explosion. A rather large one.

 

The fried corpse of a large Holstein in the transformer at the substation was going to be hard to explain. But the presence of barbeque beef made the Electric and Power Company think that vandals with a sick sense of humor were responsible for this debacle. Not Valenti and DeLuca.

 

Jesus. Max sighed with resignation as he glanced at the letter again. Okay. The Roswell Power Company had disavowed his detectives from any wrongdoing, but they more than likely didn’t have the entire story. That meant the Department was free of any blame for the destruction of property and the resulting blackout, even though Sean and Kyle were practically frothing at the mouth while trying to proclaim the actual events, which included flying cows, and were undoubtedly participants in said ‘cattle mutilations’. Hence Old Gertie’s charred remains were now the backyard feast of the head regulator at the substation plant.

 

His two rogue detectives needed discipline. A spanking. He should hire someone to slap their asses, hard. Max paused. Okay, backing off that thought, it was too early in the morning, and his stomach was too weak to even think about it. Add in Sean’s probable reaction to the suggestion and his morning was taking a turn into the perverted and disgusting. Oh, he didn't even want to think or contemplate that image right now. Uh...no way.

 

Sean having warmed to his subject, continued to bleat on and on...well crap.

 

"Sean...." Yeah like anyone was going to interrupt that tirade. “Sean!”

 

"Uh, yes sir? Um, Max?"

 

"This is it for the two of you this week, you understand?"

 

"Like a snow bank in winter, Max."

 

"Kyle?"

 

"Sure, Max. I’m happy to take it easy. No more charred Clarabell’s. Gotcha."

 

Kyle turned, flashing violent brown eyes at his partner, eyes that looked like they could cut through metal right now. Guess the bank and the flying cow was too much for the man. He was, after all, the voice of reason in this duo.

 

"Good. You're both dismissed."

 

Max listened to their bitching on the way out.

 

“This is not my fault!” Sean whined.

 

“I told you to turn right, not left!”

 

“I did turn right!”

 

“I meant before that turn right, the immediate right, the one that wouldn’t have forced the damn truck into the transformer.”

 

“Is it my fault his damn turn signal light was out? I should write that up too!”

 

Max just moaned. Rubbing his neck he leaned back for a moment, trying not to disgrace himself with laughter. Flying Holsteins. Damn, Michael was going to be jealous. They took out a bird with their front grill once, but never served up barbeque. Piss on it. God, he had a splitting headache.

 

Rhonda calmly walked into the office and planted a box in front of him, patting him on the shoulder with a fresh cup of coffee. Bless her. Excedrin. Big bottle. Take two and go back to work. Was it lunch yet? Max glanced at his watch and put his head down moaning. Ten? No way. That whole thing took only an hour?

 

~~~

 

Maria! Michael woke to the sound of persistent meowing and the soft feel of something on his face. Mr. Booboo. His paw was frantically patting Michael on the cheek.

 

Michael rolled over and looked at the time. No way! No way!

 

“Maria? Baby, wake up.” She was still sound asleep. Too long. They had missed her morning feeding and now it was already past the mid-morning feeding and closing in on lunch. Her skin was cold.

 

“Maria, c’mon...!. Wake up for me.”

 

“Michael. Tired. Just let me sleep one more hour.” Her voice was low and far away.

 

“No. Can’t. We’re running behind.” Michael was out of bed and in the bathroom filling the tub with hot water. Lots of steaming hot water. Rushing downstairs he put on some water for tea.

 

Mr. B. was sitting there watching him, his head moving back and forth like he was witnessing a tennis match.

 

“I’ll feed you later. She’s cold. Why don’t you go find her a nice treat?”

 

The cat meowed and stretched in his usual manner, then lazily went out to hit the back gardens and the hunt, now that Michael was up and on the job.

 

The loft was hot. Too hot. Michael could barely breathe. He had turned up the heat, and with the hot September sun turning the desert heat to over a hundred degrees, the inside of the loft was steaming. They were in the bath together. He was holding her up against him as she straddled his hips. The sweat was running off his skin, and he couldn’t focus his eyes.

 

Crazy.

 

It was insane, but they were engaged in hot sex - sex that was literally hot, and sensually hotter. Her body was joined to his, and the heat was sapping his ability to really move, so he laid back in the bath with his arms spread along the cool porcelain as her mouth sucked the blood from his neck.

 

He couldn’t open his eyes. It felt like a thousand points of blinding light were in his vision. Thirst. He needed more. Wanted more. His body was craving sustenance. Her skin smelt like a nectar. A perfume that was uniquely hers. Moaning, his one hand came out to hold her mouth firmly against his neck as she ravaged it, as his hips moved upward pushing more and harder.

 

“Michael.”

 

Through hooded eyes, he could see the marks he left on her body. A cut above her right breast, the mauling of her neck. She looked wild and primitive. His mate.

 

Holding her hips firmly, he watched as her body came apart, and she orgasmed with him. He never felt the brutal scratches of her nails in his back or the screaming of his name...

 

“Eat.”

 

“No. I’m too full.” Michael pushed more food at her on the fork. Chinese. He had ordered takeout from six different places. There were food containers everywhere. Sex. Food. More Sex. Hot tea. He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. It was hotter than hell in here, and Maria was still shivering. She was wearing sweats, thick socks and a sweater. It had to be close to one hundred and twenty degrees in the loft, and Michael could hardly keep standing.

 

Sex. More sex.

 

“Maria.”

 

“God! No. I’m tired! I’m so damn tired.” She grabbed him, held his face between her cold hands. “Just let me rest. Just for a little while. I promise, I’ll eat when I'm awake. I promise.” Her eyes filled with tears. Michael made a sound of distress in his throat. There were dark circles under her eyes. She was too tired to stay awake a moment longer. He watched helplessly as her eyes closed.

 

Tucking her in bed, he piled the blankets and comforters on. Taking a phone, he went into the bathroom and ran the cold water, drinking glass after glass as he wet his skin.

 

“Parker,” Michael gulped trying to clear his throat. “Parker.” Shocking how dry his voice was. “It’s Maria. I can’t get her warm. I…I need help.”

 

“Michael! I’ll be there. As soon as I can.”

 

“Get Max and Sean. They’ll get you here faster.” Michael’s voice faltered. “Hurry. We’re dying.”

 

Liz frowned and made a sound of distress as the phone disconnected. No. No. It couldn’t happen. This couldn’t be happening. Calling to her assistant, she grabbed her bag with the supplies she kept for Maria and Michael’s blood draws. Rushing to the elevator, and frantically punched the button for Major Crimes to find the others.

 

What was she going to do? There had to be a solution. There had to be one. What was it? Oh God, she was out of time!

 

Max. She had to get to Max. The elevator opened to her almost running full force through the glass door, through Major Crimes and without stopping, straight into Max’s office.

 

Max looked up at the interruption, at the frantic face of Liz Parker and his stomach went hollow.

 

“It’s Maria!”

 

Max was up and the two of them left in a dead run, as Max called to both Sean and Kyle.

 

The trip was a blur. Liz sat in the back beside Kyle muttering to herself. Going over all the possibilities. Out of time. They were out of time.

 

~~~

 

Sean opened the door using his security override. The heat of the loft knocked them all back.

 

“Fuck!”

 

Kyle rushed to the thermostat and turned down the control. It was boiling in there.

 

“Max, get some water, lots of ice. Michael has to be dehydrated, and so does Maria.” Sean took the stairs three at a time with Liz fast on his heels. “Boil some tea, lots of sugar.”

 

They were in the bed. Michael was holding her, and she was covered in so many blankets they could barely find her. Sean took the iced water Max handed him and helped Michael to drink.

 

“We should call an ambulance.” Max said.

 

“There's no time! And what would they do for her?” Sean swore and kept trying to force water on Michael.

 

Liz paced. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t be happening. She had missed something. There had to be a solution.

 

Max looked at his best friend. “Michael? Michael!”

 

Michael opened his eyes. “Maria?”

 

“She’s still here with us. What should we do? Take her to the hospital? They can take the babies, maybe save her.”

 

Michael nodded. Save Maria. Save her.

 

Maria’s voice was low, but they heard her. “No. No. It’s too late for that. They can’t take them. They can’t survive.”

 

Michael rolled over. “Maria, we tried. It’s time. Any longer and you’ll die. Let me have Max take you to the hospital.”

 

Maria shook her head no, she was leaning back against Sean. Her voice was weak, but he could hear the word ‘no’, over and over again. Finally she said something he couldn’t understand. Leaning closer he listened carefully.

 

“She said, ‘Blood. It’s in the blood.’”

 

Michael grabbed Maria’s hand and they made eye contact. She wouldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t go. He could force her, but…”

 

“Liz. The blood. What does she mean?” Michael asked desperately, his voice rising in fear. “Think, dammit!”

 

Liz was frustrated. “I don’t know! I don’t know! It’s in your blood. What she needs, what they need is in your blood. It’s why she craves it, needs it. The precursors, the transportation system. It moves the molecules and energy, faster and cleaner. She's starving. They're starving. I don’t know how to get it to her, how to get enough to her body to make a difference.”

 

“Blood transfusion?” Sean asked quietly. “If drinking it isn’t enough, hasn’t a long enough effect, how about a transfusion of Michael’s blood into Maria?”

 

Liz shook her head. “I thought of that. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t. There would be a rejection reaction, a hemolytic response. That is why blood is cross-typed. Giving her alien blood could kill them all.”

 

Maria looked at Michael. “I’m already dying. They’re dying. Give me the transfusion. If the babies are taken now, they'll die. I might live, but I won’t want to. Or I might die. At least this is a chance. Even if I don’t make it, take them. Take them to the hospital, they might be able to save the babies. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe they can survive.” Maria looked too tired to talk anymore. “Michael, please. You promised.”

 

Michael closed his eyes and bent to rest his head on her hands. He had indeed promised. Promised to protect.

 

“Give her my blood.”

 

Liz shook her head. “Michael, it’s a risk. I can’t…I don’t know…”

 

“Just give it to her!”

 

Liz backed away. “I’ll need things. Supplies to start IV lines. I need them from a hospital.”

 

Michael looked at his partner, who nodded. “We’ll help you. I can open the locks. Let’s go.”

 

As they headed for the stairs, Michael called to Max, “Maxwell, hurry!”

 

~~~

 

“Michael...?”

 

He held her. They were taking too long, but he refused to leave her side, even for a moment.

 

“There’s not much time.” Maria was pale and very weak. Her hand came up to stroke his face. “I can feel the need to sleep, and I’m afraid.”

 

“Maria,” his voice was almost a gasp of pain.

 

“I’m afraid I won’t do everything I need to, just in case.” She looked over to her closet. “Go in my closet, in my Tallboy, top drawer. There are some letters and things. Bring them to me.” He didn’t move. “Please? Hurry.”

 

Michael scooted off the bed and went into her closet, finding three stacks of letters, each tied with a pink ribbon. He brought them back and handed them to Maria, but she pushed them back to him.

 

“I started these a few months ago, long before Alex told us that the babies can’t survive without me. I can’t believe that. I can’t. I have to believe that their mixed genetics from you and me makes a difference, and if I am no more, they can go on. I have to believe that. So I finished these.” Maria put her hands over his. “Here. Take them. Keep them safe. If it goes bad…you’ll need them.”

 

Michael looked down at the stacks of letters. One said “Mikey”, another other, “Amanda”. The last one said “Michael.” He had never got around to marrying her. All those delays. Flowers. Everything.

 

He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. “What are these? Professor, what did you do?”

 

Maria tried to keep her eyes open. “They’re letters. For the babies. I wrote them one for every birthday, every Christmas, and all the special events in between. The day they learn to ride a two wheel bike, the day they lose their first tooth, chicken pox, first date, first broken heart, graduation, meeting the person they will marry, leaving home, marriage, the birth of