Half-Alien vs. Feline
"They find the kitten as they're leaving a Waffle House in Topeka." Michael/Maria, Roswell
Summary: Maria's new pet doesn't care much for a certain Spaceboy. Written for filmobsessed137, 1700 words.
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They find the kitten as they're leaving a Waffle House in Topeka. It's three in the morning and all Michael can think about is getting back to their hotel and catching some desperately needed shuteye. Liz and Max are inside paying the bill and arguing good-naturedly (cutely, Michael thinks with disgust) about how much to tip the waitress. Isabel is off at the 24-hour Walmart they spotted while exiting the freeway. She's commandeered the van (with Kyle in it) to go off in search for supplies, because "being on the run is no excuse to not wear deodorant." Michael can think of things he'd rather spend his hard-earned money on than girlie toiletries, but if it gets everyone out of the hotel room for one blessed minute and gives him the opportunity for uninterrupted sleep for once, who is he to complain? He and Kyle have been on a construction job for the past week, and while he's enjoyed having something to do with his time besides stare out a car window, the work is more grueling than he would have expected. He won't risk exposing the group by using his powers – even if he wanted to, Max would hand his ass to him on a platter – so it's been nothing but manual labor for the past six days, and he's tired. It's exhausting being human, even part-human. All he wants to do is get back to his lumpy hotel bed, Maria curled up next to him under the blankets, and drift off into unconsciousness.
He's halfway across the parking lot when Maria puts her hand on his forearm. "Do you hear that?" she says, tilting her head to the dumpsters on the side of the restaurant.
He goes tense, still, listening to the sound of the night around them. They've been on the run for six months, and while nothing has happened, the fear of being caught still hangs over them like a cloud. He wakes up in the middle of the night, shaking, picturing Maria shot with a bullet intended for him, or Max or Isabel. Over and over and over she falls, but then he's awake and shivering and she's there, kissing the back of his neck and whispering soothing sounds in his ear. But they've been lucky so far, he thinks, and soon enough—
Meow.
He hears a cat cry plaintively and relaxes. He doesn't particularly like cats, but they're decidedly less worrisome than another alien or the FBI. The cat keeps mewling as it slinks out from behind the dumpster, and Michael preemptively says "C'mon, Maria, let's get back." But Maria walks toward the cat and crouches down in front of it.
"Hey, hey there," she says, reaching out to scratch it behind the ears. The cat flinches then relaxes, leaning into her hand. "Where do you belong, huh?" Maria gently lifts the cat up off the ground. "She's really thin," she says over her shoulder to Michael. "She probably hasn't eaten for days."
"She? How do you – oh," he finishes lamely as Maria pointedly looks first at him and then down at the cat's midsection. "Fine, it's a she. But since she is neither human nor alien, I suggest we just go our separate ways, live and let live, y'know?"
"I think she's a calico," she says, ignoring him. "See these gray and brown splotches here? Sean used to have one when we were kids. He hated that cat, actually, but I loved her. I always wanted one," she finishes simply, not pleading, just looking him straight in the eye.
He gives in, because with her it seems he can do nothing else. "She sleeps in the van," he says shortly, turning to walk to the hotel. He hears quickened footsteps behind him and feels a small hand slip into his. He looks down at her, the cat cradled in her left arm and a small smile on her face.
"Thank you," she says softly, squeezing his hand.
Three days later, they've moved on to Missouri and Michael has retracted his opinion of The Cat. As far as he's concerned, the damn thing is more evil than the whole of the FBI and the residents of Antar combined. The Cat – capitalized in his mind to emphasize its evilness – has it out for him, he's sure of it. Sure, she loves Maria and Liz, and will snuggle up in their laps for hours on end while they're on the road. She'll even rub against Max's leg when it's mealtime, knowing the sap will give her some scraps off his plate. But if Michael so much as lays a finger on her, she hisses and swipes at him with her paw. He's found three pairs of his socks in shreds just this morning, which sucks when he only had five to begin with.
"It's not her fault!" Maria yells at him as they clamber out of the van at a rest stop. "She's just a kitten, she doesn't know what she's doing."
Michael follows her as she storms over to the row of vending machines. "Then why am I the only one with shredded socks? Face it, Maria, your new pet hates me."
"And with such a charming personality, who could blame her," Maria says sardonically, rolling her eyes as she punches a button on the soda machine.
"So now this is my fault."
"I'm just saying, I'm not exactly feeling the warm fuzzies for you these days either. You've been unbearable since we left Kansas."
"Like you've even had time to notice. You've been mothering that thing nonstop for the past three days."
Maria laughs, her oh my god I can't believe how idiotic you are laugh. "You're jealous."
"No, I'm not. Just pissed off."
She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, still laughing. "Oh, baby, you're jealous of a cat? That's potentially very sweet or very pathetic, I can't decide."
He holds up his hands in surrender. "You know what? Forget it. You're right, I'm wrong, the cat's an angel. I'm going for a walk." He turns and storms off.
When he returns a half-hour later, Max tells him they've decided to double back to the campsite they passed and set up for the night. Michael sits stonily in the passenger seat, ignoring the chatter around him. When they get to the campsite, he helps set up the tent without complaint. He and Kyle are stacking wood for the fire when Maria's voice rings out from the van.
"Michael Guerin, I swear to everything that is holy, when I get my hands on you—"
"What did I do?" he yells back.
"Where the hell is she? And don't lie to me," she says, her eyes flashing dangerously as she turns to face him.
"The cat? Isn't she in the van?"
"If she was in the van do you think I'd be asking you where the hell she was? She's gone."
"Look, I'm sure she just jumped out while we were unloading. Cats do that."
"Right. Like you didn't give her a little help with that. You just couldn't stand that I could have anything in my life that I loved besides you, could you?"
He feels the anger rising up, threatening to boil over. "I didn't touch your damn cat!" he shouts.
"Well, you certainly won't be crying now that she's gone, will you," she says flatly, stalking off in the direction of the campsite's restrooms.
"You're right about that," he calls after her, tossing the wood in his hands down onto the pile and walking off in the opposite direction. He's just reached the tree line when her words come back to him, resonating in his head.
You just couldn't stand that I could have anything in my life that I loved besides you.
He wants to deny it, but knows at some level that she's right. Since the moment he met Maria DeLuca, she's been the center of his world, the thing he's needed more than anything. He's given up his chance to leave Earth to stay with her, because he can't picture a life without her in it. And whenever she's given an indication of needing something more than he can give her, whether it's music or romance or a normal life, he hasn't known how to deal. He wants to be as important to her as she is to him, but he can't tell her that.
"Meow," the tree next to him says. He shakes his head to clear it, wondering if he's finally gone crazy, before glancing down and narrowing his eyes. The cat is there at the base of the tree, scratching happily at the roots. She lifts her eyes to meet Michael's, and as stupid as it is, Michael feels like she's staring him down with those golden eyes.
"Look. We don't like each other." The cat doesn't even blink. "But you're really important to Maria, so you're coming back whether you like it or not." He bends down and scoops the cat up in one swift movement, the cat yowling as she's lifted off the ground. She swipes at his shoulder, ripping a small tear in his t-shirt.
"Yeah, yeah, I hate you too," he says grimly, extending his arms so the cat can't reach him as he walks back.
Maria is sitting sullenly by the now-blazing fire when he comes back to the campsite. Michael watches her for a second before dropping the cat unceremoniously on the ground. She scampers over to the fire and circles around Maria's legs. Maria glances down, her face lighting up. "Hey, sweetie," she coos, reaching down to pet the cat's fur. She looks up and catches Michael's eye, her expression indescribable. She scoops the cat up and sets her gently on Liz's lap before standing up and crossing to where he's standing.
"Michael…" she says, before shaking her head. Rising up on tiptoe, she presses a swift kiss to his lips. "I really love you sometimes," she says simply, grabbing his hand and leading him back to the fire. He sits on the low log and she settles in between his legs, leaning back against his chest. They watch the fire crackle and spark in silence, his arms around her and their hands entwined.
She's lost everything, left her home, her family, because of him. Because she loves him, although he still can't quite figure out why. So if he can do something, anything, to give her some semblance of normal again, he's going to do it.
Even if it means living with a damn cat.
end
Posted by Carrie on 06:03 PM