Author: Luv
Summary: Michael POV. After Departure stuff happened.
Issues: Character Death.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the idea so don't sue.
Feedback: Yes, please.

The light is blinding me.

I'm squinting. It's hurting something fierce and I'm trying hard not to swear but all she does is laugh at me and that isn't making it any better. If it weren't her, I'd definitely be yelling by now, but since it's her, and because of the reason she's here, I keep quiet and try again to open my eyes.

Alex is sitting across from me, his left arm strewn protectively over Maria's shoulder. His mouth is moving but I can't make out anything he is saying. There is an awful glare coming off of his face.

"Can you move out of the light?" I ask, looking at Maria but speaking to Alex.

"No. I'm finally in the spotlight." He replies. I'm not sure if he is being glib or honest or caddy or what. I'm not very good at reading people, and Alex has always been an enigma to me. How can I even try to figure out a guy who was best friends with two beautiful girls and never put a move on either of them?

"Why did you call us here?" He wants me to say it out loud. He wants to hurt me for hurting her. She doesn't hate me for it, so why does he?

"I know why Alex." Yes - Good - Maria knows - Maria always knows.

I can't hear her response. There is suddenly a vague cacophony of voices streaming like an undercurrent through the room. This - must - be what its like in a schizophrenic's brain. I try to sort out the noises and focus on the soft timbre of Maria's voice. I did always love Maria's voice.

"Sing for me." I say, without even meaning to say it.

"You never cared about my singing Michael."

She doesn't sound mad, she's just stating a fact, but why does she have to remember all that - now? Fine - Maria yes - I am a schmuck. I admit it. I didn't go to her concerts, I never let her sing along with the radio and - the list goes on and on.

"Sing for me." I say it again. Right now I don't care about my past behavior and I don't want her to remember it either. I just want to hear her sing. I want her to sing the song she wrote for me. Sing it Maria. Please.

"I'll be okay. Baby - please don't worry about me." She's not singing. She isn't going to. She's looking at me, watching me, placating me, and the way she's talking to me I know this is her way of saying goodbye, but I don't want her to go, all I want is for her to sing one line, one note, one word.

The blinding light is here again, swirling around my head and in my head and over their heads, making me dizzy, making them blurry. 

Am I having a stroke? Nope, it's clearly an attack of a different kind. My chest is heavy, my pulse is thready, my hands are clammy, all the classic signs: I'm having - a broken heart.

They are leaving. She is waving and crying and smiling and frowning. I want to reach out and hold on to her but it wouldn't do any good.  She whispers I love you and she knows I want to say it back but can't get the words passed the lump in my throat.

I am alone. The ghosts are gone.

That's right. I said ghosts.

Tess killed Alex months ago. Tess mindwarped him and Kyle, slept with Max, lied to us all, and a bunch of other things I don't really want to remember at this point in time. That explains Alex, but what happened to Maria? She wasn't a victim of a drunk driver or a robbery or anything like that.

Alex was murdered by one of us. So was Maria. It wasn't Nicholas, or the ominous Khivar, or Max or Isabel or the Dupes or the Skins.

Me.

It was Me. Granted it wasn't intentional, and nobody knew it would or could happen, but it was still Me.

After I killed Pierce, I said it, I said I was nothing but a killer. Max was the healer. I was the murderer. They didn't believe me.

They should have. Now Maria's gone and I am alone.

I deserve to be alone. It doesn't even start to cover the penance I owe. But maybe it's the best place to start. It's certainly the most convenient.

I haven't spoken to anyone but Isabel in weeks. Max is too busy being Max to be my best friend. It's really too bad since I need him the most. I'm slowly dying inside and where is my king, my friend, my brother?

Need a hint?

Three letter word, starts with L, ends with soul mate.

He isn't afraid that what happened to Maria will happen to Liz. But why should he? Remember: He is the Healer and I am the Murderer. Though if it did, I might have to pause and laugh at the irony before I start to cry.

What happened to Maria? What really happened to her?

Teen pregnancy. That's what happened.

Don't forget to add one more word to the equation: Alien teen pregnancy. For a month, things were fine. We were scared to death of bringing a child into this world, but we had each other, and placed everything else second to that.

Then one night Maria doubled over in pain. Max tried for hours to heal her, but it didn't help, and she died the next morning. The baby killed her. My baby. The alien toxins growing in the fetus leaked from the placenta into her bloodstream.

I've always said humans and aliens don't mix. I just didn't know how biologically correct that statement was.

So ask my opinion. Are we really a threat to humans - as the deaths of Alex and Maria can attest to? I don't think so - as long as Max doubles up on the condoms and Isabel keeps her knees closed.

Oh, but wait.  Remember: Michael the Murderer is out there. Nobody is safe. Right?

Right.

I asked Isabel last week why she voluntarily hangs out with a murdering son of a bitch.

"Birds of a feather flock together Michael," she replied.

I like to pretend I don't know the meaning of that.

"Alex."

I say the word aloud for Isabel, call him here for Isabel, but that's not the whole truth, I call him back here for me, because I want to see him again, though it's scarcely been an hour since his last earthly visit. Actually, I want to see her, but she's gone for good now, and I have this inclination that Alex is still around somewhere.

I'm so selfish. I want him here - for his blessing - for his forgiveness - for what I've been doing. Tell me its alright to act and react like he knows I have because I'm in pain.

"Alex!"

He's here. Finally, what took him so long - was there a traffic jam on the highway from heaven?

"What's wrong with your eyes?"  

I'm squinting again. Is it really necessary for him to be a human flashlight?

"Nothing." No - it's not him. It's all about perspective. He's not too bright. I'm just too dark.

"Great - you're being monosyllable boy again. This is thrilling and all, but what do you want Michael?"

Well Alex - since you asked - I want to know whether my unborn child was a boy or a girl. I want to hold Maria just one more time. I want Max to give a damn about me.

Can you get me what I want Alex? Can you talk to God and put in a good word for me? Oh  - it doesn't work like that? Surprise.

I can't say what I really have to but I'm not too sure that matters since I'm positive he knows anyway. He keeps glancing towards the bedroom door.

"What do I want? I want - I want - okay - I want to know whether it's true that eating a peach pit can kill you."

"Michael." I hate when people say my name like that, in this 'now I'm upset because you've said something I don't like' voice.

"There's cyanide in the middle of the pit, right? I forget who told me that."

"Don't do anything reckless."

"Isn't that like telling the sun not to shine?"

"Michael." Ugh. He said it that way again.

There is a drawer full of peaches in the refrigerator. They were Maria's favorite. Isabel's too actually. It takes 5 steps to get to the refrigerator.

1?2?3?

Wack.

Ouch. I was just hit by a ghost.

Alex hit me once before, when he thought I was cheating on Maria with Courtney. Maria was lucky to always have Alex watching her back. I never thought he'd watch mine. Actually, I don't really think he's doing it for me. He's doing it for her - no, them.

This time it hurt more. They must have weight rooms in heaven.

"Don't do this to her." Her. Pronouns are funny things. You never know who the he, she, him, her belong to. But in this case, I know full well. I see his obsession for the princess will never falter, not even in death.

"I think you killed my eyes."

"She loves you." Does she? Sometimes - yes. But 3 out of 4 dentists agree she still loves you ghost boy.

"For God sakes, turn off your brights Alex. You're like a defective car - like some - foreign German made ghost?"

"You don't want to be dead. Remember that."

Poof. Bye Alex.

I'm in the shadows now that his light is gone. I'm alone again.

"Michael?"

Oh - right. I forgot.

"Hey - did I wake you?"

"I heard you talking."

"Sorry - go back to bed, Isabel. I'll be right there."

4?5?

Some choices in life are made for you. Others you are forced to make using your heart or your gut or sometimes - although rarely - your brain.

I don't know what to do?

Please. Tell me.

What would you do?