RATING: PG-13, edging into R for language
SUMMARY: After Michael returns from Las Vegas, the nightmares get worse.
DISCLAIMER: Metz, Katims, WB. Don't own 'em, sooooo wish I did!
Michael ran harder than he'd ever run in his life. The endeavor was made
much more difficult by the wooded setting; his ankles turned as his feet
collided with unearthed roots and stones, and branches from trees and bushes
whipped his bare face and arms, drawing angry red lines and scratches on his
skin. He once again looked forward to Max, their leader, calmly walking a
good ten feet in front of him. No matter how hard he ran, Michael couldn't
seem to catch up to him, and he called out in frustration.
"Max!! Max, will you wait, please?!?" he screamed, and Max looked over his shoulder in mild surprise.
"Are you still back there? What have I told you about keeping up?" Max lightly rebuked his friend, shrugging with impatience and continuing to stroll through the woods, ducking the branches that hit Michael and easily skirting the potholes and rocks that tripped him up. Michael watched in horror as Tess joined Max up ahead, smiling and waving cheerfully at him while she placed her hand in the crook of Max's proffered arm. Michael screamed when he heard gunfire behind him, covering his head with his arms. He could hear the bullets colliding with wood, cutting through slender branches, whistling through leaves.
"Max, help me! Where's Isabel?" he cried out, whipping his head from side to side in hopes that he would see the blonde girl. His lungs were burning, and his legs felt like they would give out at any second. If this is how he felt… a rolling wave of fear consumed him for what state Isabel would be in now.
"Oh, she's back there somewhere," Maria's familiar voice rang out, and Michael stared in disbelief as she joined Max and Tess.
"Maria! Maria, please, you have to help me, you gotta help us, please," he begged, and Maria stopped walking long enough to cock her head to the side, smiling at him like he'd just done something exquisitely adorable.
"Oh, Mikey… I can't do anything for you, you know that," she said with a decidedly amused ring to her voice before turning her back on him again.
"Isabel!! Isabel!!" Michael screamed to the dusky woods, and Max winced, looking back at him in annoyance.
"Don't you ever listen? I told you, she's gone." Tess punctuated their leader's statement with a mournful look and a nod of her head that made her luminous blonde curls bounce on her shoulders.
"Michael!! Michael, help!!" Michael's heart leapt at the sound of Isabel's voice behind him. He turned to run back to her, but collided with some invisible force that kept him from retreating.
"Isabel! Hang on, I'm gonna get you," he cried, pounding on the barrier with both fists as Isabel ran staggeringly towards him. Michael ran sideways, trying to find a way around it, but encountering only more of the same. When he reached a point that he couldn't see Isabel anymore, he ran back to his starting position, kicking at whatever it was that held him in place. Isabel wasn't far off now, he'd be able to reach her in just moments.
"Michael!" she yelled again, running now with her arms outstretched towards him. "Mic-" Michael watched as if frozen as a bullet cut off her calling of his name in slow motion, he saw it exit her stomach with a spray of deliriously red blood, and she clapped both hands over the wound, her running slowing even more.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" He screamed until his throat was raw, still raging against his confinements. "Max, you have to do something!!" Michael looked over his shoulder to see all of them standing there: Max, Tess, Maria, Liz, Kyle, Alex, Sheriff Valenti, all standing there and regarding the gruesome scene with a vague sadness in their expressions. Alex was looking up into a tree at a cardinal that was singing. Kyle stifled a yawn with one hand. He turned back to Isabel, who was staring at him with shock scrawled across her features, and she looked down at the exit wound, holding her scarlet-stained hands palm-up in front of her as she sank to her knees. In the slow-motion world she inhabited, her golden hair floated in the air for a moment as it lost the contact of her shoulders. When it toppled back down again, Isabel looked blankly at Michael.
"I'm sorry," she mouthed before falling limply to the ground.
"NO!!" Michael shouted, sitting upright in bed.
He inhaled shakily, pulling his knees up so that he could rest his head against them, rocking slightly back and forth. Why was this happening?
"Dammit," he whispered, wiping salty sweat and tears from his eyes and blinking rapidly, in an attempt to erase the terrifying image from behind his eyelids. Everything seemed to have been going perfectly. After returning from Las Vegas, he felt relaxed like he hadn't in weeks. He and Max had mended things between them… well, okay, they weren't all better, but they were closer to being okay with each other than they had all year. He was feeling relatively normal. He returned from Vegas, unpacked his bag, ate some dinner, and went to bed.
And the nightmare began again… worse than before.
Michael stood up on trembling legs and headed to the bathroom, splashing cool water on his face, and tried to calm his pounding heart and settle his ragged breathing. A sudden certainty overcame him, even clearer than his earlier revelation that he needed a vacation, and he quickly re-packed his bag and hopped on his motorcycle.
He tapped on the window lightly, frowning slightly in confusion. It was
almost five in the morning, and Isabel should have been sleeping. But there
she was, sitting in front of her vanity mirror with a strangely vacant look
in her eyes. Maybe she was sleepwalking or something. Michael used his
powers to unlock the window, and hopped over the sill and into her room. As
soon as his feet hit the floor, Isabel jerked in surprise and Michael's
hands flew to his face as the mirror in front of her shattered, creating a
spider-web of cracks shooting out from the center of it.
"Jesus, Isabel!" Michael hissed, and Isabel blinked a few times before focusing on him, and Michael had time to take in how pale she looked before she shook her head and breathed deeply, suffusing her face with color.
"Michael… what are you doing awake?" she said softly, dropping her eyes from his.
"I could ask you the same thing," Michael offered, and Isabel's eyes shot to his in irritation.
"Michael…" she said in a warning tone, and he dropped all pretenses.
"Okay, okay. I've got my bike outside, let's go." Isabel looked at him like he has just spoken to her in Japanese.
"Go? Michael, I think we've both done quite enough 'going' for a while," she cracked, standing up and crossing her arms under her chest.
"Maybe. Maybe not. You need a vacation." Isabel's mouth dropped open in shock. Then she started laughing.
"What’s so funny?" Michael retorted defensively, and Isabel coughed lightly, ceasing her mirth.
"Uhm, nothing. Just that if you don't consider hopping off to Vegas a vacation, I don't think I want to go on this one," she teased, and he leveled his serious gaze at her.
"I enjoyed Vegas just fine. Vegas was a great vacation… for me. But not for you," he observed, and Isabel looked away uncomfortably.
"So? I had a good time. And anyway, Max told me that you guys didn't want anybody else to come, it just happened, so it wasn't designed to be fun for anybody but you guys. So you don't have to be sorry or anything," she finished quietly, drawing non-shapes on the carpet with her big toe. Michael sighed heavily and decided to try a different tactic.
"I'm not sorry, but you did break the rules." Isabel looked up sharply in question. "You didn't spend all your money. In fact, you didn't spend much of it at all," he accused, and she rolled her eyes at him.
"Fine, here's the rest of the money, like I really care," she huffed in exasperation, opening her desk drawer and tossing the wad of money at him. When he just threw it back at her, she fumbled it in surprise.
"I don't want it," Michael explained coolly, and Isabel growled.
"Well then what do you want?" she said a little too loudly, and Michael grabbed her by the shoulder with one hand, clapping his other hand over her mouth. They stood there, barely breathing, hearing Isabel's parents' bed squeak as someone shifted in it and her mother's muffled voice spoke. Philip answered her shortly, and then with a final squeak or two, the house fell silent once again. The two teens sighed in relief and Isabel tried to pull away from Michael, but he just moved the hand on her shoulder to hook it around her waist, holding his other hand firmly on her mouth. He nearly laughed out loud at the dangerously furious look she gave him.
"I want to give you your vacation," he whispered, and her eyes widened in surprise for a moment before returning to glaring. She tried to speak against his hand; the words were unintelligible, but the meaning was crystal clear to Michael.
"Yes, now; and no, I'm not crazy," he nodded and smiled as she repeated the surprised/pissed combination of expressions again.
"Meph mmoh-mmph mmm."
"I'm not letting go until you agree to come with me."
"Mmmm."
"I'm serious, Isabel. I can stay like this forever," he threatened, and Isabel arched one eyebrow at him. Her expression didn't change, and he regarded her quizzically for a moment before feeling the unexpected but unmistakable pressure of her knee on his balls. He sucked in a breath, and she lifted the other eyebrow.
"Oh, you fight dirty," he smirked, and Isabel nodded, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Michael sighed. "Okay, fine." He released her, and she smacked him square in the chest, pushing him to a sitting position on her bed before walking to her closet and rummaging around in it, pulling clothes out. Michael looked on calmly. He knew when to cut his losses and switch plans; getting kneed in the crotch by Isabel was not in the game plan. But he could sit here until she consented. Clothes in hand, she looked expectantly at him over her shoulder.
"What?" He looked to his left and right, trying to figure out what that look was for. She swirled one slender finger in circles in the air, and he raised his eyebrows in confusion.
"Turn… around," she said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. Michael sighed and turned his back to her, hearing the faint rustling of clothes being taken off and put on. "So where are we going?" Michael's head shot up, he hadn't expected her to agree to this for at least another hour.
"You mean-" he started, turning to look at her.
"Eyes front!!" she squeaked, pulling her robe up over her chest.
"Sorry."
"Yeah, yeah. Are you going to answer my question?" Isabel hurriedly put on a bra and t-shirt to complete the jeans she was already wearing.
"Ummm, well since we did already get in trouble for going to Vegas, I can't take you where I wanted to take you… but this will have to do." Isabel walked over and touched his shoulder lightly, indicating that he could turn back around.
"What's 'this'?" she asked warily, tossing some things in her backpack. Michael simply smiled. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" she more stated than asked, and Michael nodded. Isabel sighed.
"Oh, just come on, Iz. I promise, you'll like it," he vowed, and Isabel stood up, fixing the straps of the backpack over her shoulders.
"Okay. I'll come on one condition: that you have me back home by dinner." Michael sighed, and made an X over his heart with his right index finger. "Well, then. Shall we?"
"We shall," Michael returned, and Isabel chuckled as he helped her over the windowsill.
"Albuquerque?" Isabel asked Michael dubiously, hands still resting on Michael's hips as they perched on the motorcycle. Michael
rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Albuquerque. Specifically, the biggest mall in the state," he explained, gesturing to the large building that was partially obscured by the bushes they had parked in front of. Comprehension dawned on Isabel's face, and it lit up in a smile.
"Michael!" she exclaimed, and he winced.
"Okay, before you get too mad, I wanted to take you to Beverly Hills. I hear the shopping there is… unparalleled." He hazarded a glance at his companion, who just sat behind him, grinning.
"Mad? Michael, that is… this is great! But you don't want to be here," she added perceptively, and Michael just shrugged.
"Yeah, well… Vegas wasn't tea and cookies for you, from what I hear," he said gruffly, and Isabel's smile fell a notch.
"Why, who have you been talking to?" she asked warily, but Michael ignored her.
"Hey, I didn't bring you all the way to the mall here so that we could stand outside the parking lot and chatter. Don't you wanna hit the shops? You have twenty-five hundred dollars that need to be spent," he pointed out, and Isabel nodded.
"Wow." Michael deposited himself in one of the hard, plastic chairs of the
mall's food court, letting the myriad bags in his hands fall to the floor.
"Hope I didn't tire you out completely," Isabel said sweetly, placing their food tray gently on the table and sitting down, sighing tiredly in spite of herself.
"Me? No," he denied a bit too loudly, and Isabel laughed, eliciting a smile from her reluctant shopping companion.
"It's good to hear you laugh again," Michael said quietly, cutting off the flow of her laughter suddenly.
"Well," she replied, adopting a serious expression and arranging their food busily, "I don't think any of us have had a lot to smile about recently." Michael scowled in concern. Yeah, there had been some serious stuff going on recently, but even he, Roswell's own "King of Pain" had found a few smiles here and there.
"Isabel, just because things have been tense doesn't mean you can't have fun once in a while," he protested, and nearly cringed when she fixed him with one of the coldest and angriest of her Ice Princess stares.
"Tense? That's one word for the way things have been, Michael. Dangerous, deadly, and horrifying also come to mind," Isabel snapped.
"Hey, I'm all for admitting how serious things are getting… I'm usually the one who takes things too seriously, I can admit that. But I can still have fun on occasion," he bit out in defense, and Isabel rolled her eyes.
"Of course you can, who wouldn't have fun with Maria." Michael actually recoiled a little from the sharp bitterness in her voice. Ouch. Michael knew Isabel well, and he knew that she could really lay into someone. She had a reputation for being the deadliest girl at West Roswell, and it was even rumored that she could dissect someone with a glare and a choice word or two. Hell, he'd enjoyed it and even took a little bit of pride in it. That was his Isabel tearing West Roswell's elite to shreds without lifting a finger. However, she had never turned it on him before. Ever. Sure, she'd gotten pissed at him and they'd gotten into some really great fights over the years, but underneath all the caustic arguing was the knowledge that she cared about him, loved him fiercely, and would turn more than an angry tongue on anyone that dared to seriously mess with him.
This time was different. This wasn't best-friend fighting, or rag-on-Michael-cause-he's-paranoid/antisocial/impulsive… instead of that feeling that Isabel was only fighting with him because she cared, he got the impression that she was fighting with him because she was hurt. Because she was really angry. Michael searched for what to say next.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Isabel just arched one eyebrow and gave him a withering look. Okay, not his most brilliant moment. "Look, Isabel… I know there's something bugging you, I just wish you'd tell me what it is."
"Bugging me? God, that's so cute Michael. Did your... girlfriend teach you that one?" Michael's mouth actually dropped open in shock. "Jesus, Iz! What the hell is this all about, do you have some kind of problem with Maria?" Michael realized that he had come close to shouting that and that patrons of the mall were looking at the duo curiously. Isabel flushed deeply and began gathering bags into her arms.
"Just let it go, Michael," she said in a low but intense voice, attempting to stalk away from the table and failing as bags escaped from her arms and fell to the floor. Michael rose from his seat and scooped up the fallen packages, trying to take the load from her arms.
"Michael, stop it," Isabel warned, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
"Come on, Iz, don't be stupid. Lemme help you with these," he offered in exasperation. After a beat, Isabel shocked Michael even further by shoving all the bags into his arms at once in a fit of anger. The force behind it was enough to send Michael staggering back a step, the bags all falling to the floor. He stared incredulously into her flushed face, noting how her dark eyes flashed with emotions he couldn't begin to describe.
"Leave… me… alone," she hissed before turning on her heel and almost running out of the food court. Michael was dimly aware that pretty much every person in the vicinity was staring at him, but didn't really care. He was beyond shocked, he was terrified. One insane thought kept flying through his mind: That's not Isabel. Slowly, still trying to gather his thoughts together, he put small bags inside of larger ones, making the whole affair much easier to carry, and went in search of her.
He found her sitting on the ground by one of the loading docks outside, her
back to the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. He felt his chest
tighten at the sight; she looked so helpless and young, a far cry from the
poised, mature Isabel that she usually presented herself as.
"Isabel," Michael started, but was unable to continue when she lifted her head from her knees and looked at him. She'd been crying… he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Isabel cry.
"Michael… I-I don't know what came over me back there," she began, placing a trembling hand on her forehead. Michael awkwardly seated himself next to her on the floor. Neither one moved for a few minutes, both of them lost in thought.
"Do you… do you really hate Maria that much?" Michael broke the silence in a voice that was little more than a whisper. Isabel's eyes went wide and she shook her head, making her hair fly around her face wildly.
"No, I don't." Michael bit his lower lip and nodded in understanding. "Well… yes."
"Yes?" he inquired anxiously, searching Isabel's downcast face.
"Yeah. I mean, no." Michael gave her a wary look, which she chuffed in half-amusement at. "I don't hate Maria, Michael. I… I hate that I never get to see you anymore. It's easy for me to blame that on her."
"You see me all the time, Iz," Michael rebutted half-heartedly. He knew she was right… and not just about not seeing him, about Maria too. It made him feel like a piece of shit.
"No, I don't," Isabel returned evenly. "Can you remember the last time we really talked?" Michael shifted uncomfortably. The last time they had spent any quality time together was when they went to investigate the mental institution in Brownsville together. The entire car trip was made in silence, save for the radio. Isabel smiled sadly. "I didn't think so."
"Look, Isabel, maybe you're right about that, but I do have a girlfriend… sort of. I mean…" Michael exhaled loudly, unable to articulate what he felt.
"Michael, I understand. I'm just… sick. Sick of being left out, left behind, left alone," she explained in a shaky voice, fighting valiantly to hold back the tears that wanted to spill over.
"I told you Isabel, you're not alone," Michael said firmly, and was completely unprepared when she lashed out again.
"Oh, fuck that, Michael! I'm not alone? How do you figure that? You and Maria are too busy with each other to talk to anyone else, the only reason Max is talking to me is because he and Liz are… whatever, they're not happy, so talking to him is technically talking, but it's really depressing. Tess and Kyle are like two peas in a pod now, and Alex is no longer just Alex, he's the 'New Alex', the kind of 'New Alex' who has to go out of his way to prove that he doesn't care about me anymore. Who does that leave me? Grant's fucking dead, so my last option is Sheriff Valenti. I have a bad enough reputation in Roswell without chumming around with the Sheriff!" Isabel raised enraged and tearful eyes to Michael's face, daring him to disagree with her. He said nothing. Isabel nodded sadly, turning her eyes front again.
"Isabel?" She turned her face to his again, the tears finally spilling over her lids as she looked at him. "For what it's worth… I'm sorry about Grant." Isabel laughed humorlessly.
"Michael, don't. I don't even want to hear it," she admonished quietly.
"I'm serious, Isabel, I… I know he was… an innocent person. And I know you liked him. It's no secret that I didn't, I won't tell you that. None of us did, but…" he trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Isabel nodded in comprehension, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.
"Do you know what he told me?" she asked, so quietly that Michael almost didn't hear her. "He told me that he trusted me. That… that I was the only person he could trust. He-" Isabel choked on the last word, unable to continue without crying.
"Iz…" Michael placed one arm behind her shoulders, reaching around her knees to pull her close to him. It was too much; she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything about the past weeks in the hopes of living out a normal life without anyone guessing there was something wrong, and the sobs wracked through her. She curled in on herself, allowing Michael's strong arms to rock her gently, that simple physical contact soothing her ragged nerves. Michael just laid his head on top of Isabel's blonde one, not knowing what to say to make things okay. When her crying had reduced to occasional hitches in her breathing, she lifted her head up from his chest, wiping at her streaming eyes. Michael watched her with concern until she raised her eyes to his. They were calmer, but they echoed with a look that tickled the edges of his consciousness. That look, he had seen that look in her eyes before. It was… lost. Confusion and pain mingled in them, and he was struck by the familiarity of it.
"I'm sorry," Isabel said softly.
Isabel looked on in mild alarm as Michael's face went pale, and the beginnings of panic began to stir in the back of her head.
"Michael? Michael, what's wrong?"
Michael's vision swam as the sickening deja-vu feeling settled in, and he knew instantly where he had seen that look before. The dream. She had looked at him just like that as she sank to her knees, and said those words before dying. His breath started to come in short gasps, and Isabel placed the palms of her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her.
"Michael! Dammit, is this about the dream?"
Michael abruptly stopped breathing altogether. He stared, open-mouthed, in shock at the blonde who was straddling his outstretched legs.
"You… you know? You know about the dream? How?!" he demanded, and Isabel closed her eyes for a brief moment before answering.
"Max told me you were having nightmares, and that's why you wanted to go to Vegas. I was worried, I wanted to make sure you weren't having them anymore, so… I dreamwalked you last night." Michael floundered for words, and Isabel had the good grace to look ashamed.
"But I only saw one of you. When I'm dreaming about you and you dreamwalk me, I always see both of you. Why did I only see one of you?" The questions tumbled out as he tried to make sense of the situation. True, it had been a long time since Isabel had dreamwalked him, but the same rules always applied to the aliens with that particular power. Humans never knew the difference, but Max and Michael had learned early on that they most definitely could tell if Isabel was inside their heads. Isabel refused to meet his wild eyes, and he took her chin firmly between his fingers, forcing her to see him.
"You weren't dreaming of me, Michael, not until I dreamwalked you." Michael sat motionless for a long moment, digesting that piece of information.
"But you weren't in control, Isabel. You died in the dream, you're always apart from the dream, how could you die if you were dreamwalking?" Isabel sighed heavily.
"Well, all that seems to be changing. First with Laurie, now you… I got caught, Michael. I got stuck in it, and…" She didn't finish the sentence. A wave of nausea swept through her at the memory, however dream-like and fuzzy, of being shot and killed while all her friends and family stood and watched. Michael noted the change in her expression, watched as her face went pale, and remembered the look that had scared him when he'd jumped in her window that morning.
"Oh, god… when I came to get you, you were… the mirror… christ, Isabel, you died?! Fuck, all you were doing was trying to see if I was okay and… and my dream, that fucking dream, it killed you, you… you felt, you felt it didn't you…" Michael babbled as the meaning of what she told him became clearer. Isabel in turn scooted further up his legs, ignoring the accompanying twinge of pain as her knees scraped along the concrete and bracing her elbows on Michael's chest, staring fiercely into his eyes.
"No, Michael, listen to me. I'm not dead, I'm right here," she explained in a low and steady voice.
"You're not even safe in my dreams," Michael whispered brokenly.
"Michael, look at me. I'm not dead, and I'm not hurt. It was just a dream, Michael, just like having a dream where you die, except… not mine. I'm not going to die, I'm not going anywhere." Something in Isabel's calm response broke through to Michael, and he was able to look her straight in the eyes.
"Isabel, I…" Michael stammered, and hear the disjointed memory of his and Maria's conversation in his head.
//I have feelings.
Well then, walk em over there and give em a workout.//
"What, sweet?" Isabel murmured as she brushed his hair out of his face with her fingers, using the old term of endearment she used to call him in private when they were just kids. He always hated it out loud, but secretly liked it. He liked having something from Isabel that nobody else could see.
"I can't lose you. I mean, I know we haven't been real close lately, but I need you here. If anything… I mean, if I… if you…" Isabel shushed him, and then let out a small surprised squeak as he wrapped his arms around her waist roughly and pulled his knees up so that she was sandwiched between his thighs and chest, cradled in his lap. In such close proximity, Isabel could feel him trembling with fear and tears sprang to her eyes. How could she have ever doubted that Michael cared about her? How could she think that Michael would value Maria over her? Isabel gave in to the contact, twining her arms around his neck and humming into his hair. Screw destiny. How had they let some vague information about their past life drive such a wedge between them that they didn't even talk anymore? It had always been different between the two of them than with Max… Max never wanted to need them. He was always so self-sufficient, so in control, but Michael and Isabel had needed each other's company and comfort all the time when they were growing up. Apparently it wasn't so different now, no matter how they tried to pretend otherwise.
"What the hell is going on?" Isabel's head shot up at the voice and she craned her neck to confirm it.
"Max? What are you doing here?" Max just stood there looking disapproving.
"I called him,” Michael explained, clearing his throat. "After you ran off, I realized that we'd never make it back to Roswell with all these bags." Isabel started like she'd just woken up, looking in surprise at the shopping bags. She'd forgotten all about those.
"Yeah, and I repeat: what the hell is going on here? I looked all over the mall for you guys, I've been here for an hour and a half! I was about to go home, and saw you two here as I walked to the car. You look… cozy." Michael dropped his possessive grasp on Isabel's waist, and she looked down at the way they were sitting, realizing for the first time how intimate it looked. It was now her turn to clear her throat as she scrambled to her feet, extending a hand to Michael, who took it and hoisted himself up as well, swiping nonchalantly at his eyes.
"Max, just… go start the jeep, okay? I'll be there in a second." Max narrowed his eyes at the two in confusion, but shrugged and headed off to where the jeep was parked. Isabel scratched the back of her head nervously, turning back to Michael.
"I'm sorry," both of them blurted out at the same time, and they shared a small smile. Isabel began collecting her bags, speaking to Michael as she did so.
"So, are you… I mean, will you get back to Roswell okay? I mean, on the bike all by yourself?" Michael chuckled a little.
"Isabel… I'm not a kid. I'll be fine." Isabel looked down at her full hands, embarrassed.
"No, I didn't mean-"
"I know," he interjected, and Isabel looked at him curiously. Michael couldn't pin down the emotions wrapped up in that look, and it made him a little uneasy. Whatever moment they had shared was utterly broken now, and Michael felt a little ashamed that he'd gotten so mushy about the dream. About Isabel. A long moment of awkward silence ensued, and Isabel broke it reluctantly.
"Well,"
"Yeah, you…"
"I should go. Max,"
"Yeah, he's waiting." Isabel nodded in agreement, again chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. She turned to go, and took two steps before hesitating, almost looking over her shoulder. She shook her head slightly, and took two more steps before dropping her bags on the ground and running back to enfold Michael in a tight hug. Michael was surprised at first, but slowly returned the display of affection. Isabel pulled away as suddenly as she had come and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered, then snatched up her things and jogged off to the jeep. Michael watched her go with a peaceful yet questioning expression.
"Max!! Max?!?" Michael yelled, the rain pelting down on him and obscuring
his vision as he ran. That strange thought tickled the back of his mind – I
shouldn't be here. The familiar twigs and branches smacked him, mocking
him. He never saw the rock that tripped him, sending him face-first into a
mud puddle.
"Max!! Isabel!!" he screamed, and the bullets flew again. Michael sobbed, his breath tearing through his throat. This shouldn't be happening, why was this happening again-
"Michael."
Isabel stood above him, looking at him with concern.
"You're not Isabel!! Isabel's dead!" he shrieked, scrambling to his feet. It was still raining, but Isabel was dry.
"I'm not dead, Michael. You saved me, remember?" she asked quietly, smiling a little and reaching out her hand to him. Michael shrank back from it, and a sad look replaced the smile. "Please, Michael, trust me?"
Michael stared at her hand, that perfect hand, for an eternity. He was still scared, oh so scared, but he knew what needed to be done. He took a deep breath,
could be my last
squeezed his eyes shut, and grabbed onto it. The dull roaring in his ears stopped, and he cracked one eye open. It was no longer raining. Nobody was shooting at him. He was dry and warm, and Isabel stood beside him, beaming with joy.
"See? I told you. The sun's out," she said liltingly, turning her face up to catch the warm beams that filtered down through the trees. Michael did the same and blinked a number of times, his eyes trying to adjust to the light.
"Where's Max?" he asked pensively, and Isabel laughed lightly. What a beautiful sound, he thought distantly.
"Max is here somewhere, but don't worry about him," she answered breezily, and took a few steps away from him, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"He could be in trouble," Michael stated uneasily, and Isabel shook her head, making her blonde hair shimmer in the light.
"We're always in trouble, see?" She pointed to a spot above and behind Michael's head, and he turned around to see what it was. Stormclouds. Black, ugly stormclouds gathering in the farthest corner of the sky that they could see.
"We have to find Max! And Tess, and Maria, and-" Isabel stopped his words with a gentle hand on his mouth. She shook her head in the negative again.
"I told you, you can't worry about them. They'll be okay." Michael was about to protest, when Isabel took his hand in hers, weaving their fingers together. The touch of her skin on his was like fire. She pointed with her other hand at the forest floor, and there was a trail there that Michael felt sure hadn't been there before. It wasn't paved… heck, it wasn't much more than a recently trekked route, but it was there. He looked at Isabel with wonder, and she smiled again.
"We'll find our own way."
end