Title: For thy Sweet Love, Rememb'red Such Wealth Brings
Author: Spacie
Written: ??/??/??
Rating: R (language)
Part: 1/1
Disclaimer: I have decided that I'm the all powerful Supergurl. And no lawyers can stop me or sue me for my stories, Ha! (Ha! You hear me? Ha!) But sadly, this story is going to get filtered out onto the internet where evil lawyer eyes roam to seek out not disclaimed fanfiction. Damn them. So I must say that (unfortunently) I do not own Maria DeLuca or the oniomus voice who's talking to her (said voice being Michael Guerin). Damnit. Can't you at least give me M&M? Please? No? ::sigh:: So now I'm going to ride my 6 legged magenta and cobalt striped ferrat back to my wonderful 16 story aqua and indigo poke-a-dotted mansion in Slovakia where I will live out the rest of my days plotting against the goverment. (But the Ferrat belongs to me, you sneaky evil lawyers. Got that? M-E!)
Summary: Michael has a startling revalation to tell Maria.
Distribution: If you want it, take it. All I want is credit and the address to your site. Authors Notes: I wrote this after hearing "The Visit" and being the CandyGirl-who-writes-morbid-Candy-fics that I am... I had to write an M&M fic about it... even though the song is a story within itself. So, I made this the story it's about. It's a monolauge basically, Michael's words only.

I'm late, I know. I'm sorry. I said I'd be here before dark, and it's, well... past dark.. I was walking around, thinking. Yes, I do think, no need to point that out. This isn't something to laugh about though. I was trying to find the words to tell you something. You probably already know anyways, you have that way of finding out everything before I have the chance to break it to you myself. Like when we thought Isabel was pregnant with my child? You confronted me about it before I could tell you, even though we both knew I wouldn't.

This isn't about Isabel, or pregnancies, or any simple shit like that. You haven't confronted me about this, but I don't think you would confront me on something like this. Now. After all we've been through. But I'm getting off the subject, trying to avoid telling you this. That proves that I still love you, right? That I've always loved you and always will?

Maria, It's kinda difficult to explain, so can you please just let me finnish before you interupt me? I-I just have to lay it all on the table first. Okay? Thank-you baby. Let me put these flowers down, I should probably sit my ass down also. You're already down, that's good. Alright, here I go. 
As you know there is barely any food left in our house. So, being the bastard of a procrastinator that we all know and love, I wait til we're down to a quarter of a bottle of Tobasco sauce and three Oreo cookies to go shopping. Anyways, while I was struggling with twenty-fucking-million grocery's... I met someone.
  She was in front of me in line and had stood there watching me try to pack all these fucking grocery's without any help. Oh, and she was laughing her ass off. Something about that laugh... it struck me. Reminded me of your laugh. The way her eyes flashed and how she tossed her hair. It's strawberry blonde, and it falls in those springy curls you used to have before you butchered your hair.

So I finally finnish, and she's still their watching me and laughing. I asked her what was so funny and she told me that I was exactly what she was looking for. Naturally this confused me, and I asked her what she meant. She told me that since she was so picky with guys, her friends made her fill out a thing on her perfect guy and shit. That guy had to be mysterious, willing to do grocery shopping, independent, not worrying about perfect hair, classic black clothes, and soul eyes. Maria, she said I had soul eye. You're the only one who's ever said I had soul eyes.

We started talking and hanging out and shit after that day. She's so much like you Maria. With her endless talking, small frame, crazy imagination, wild ideas, the safety, and the sparks that travel down my spine when I touch her. She knows all about you too. I told her everything the first time we really talked. I had to have everything out in the open. I-I even told her about my 'secret.' The fucking Czechoslovakian-alien thing. I regret not being the one to tell you, so I had to tell her first. She reacted kinda strange at first... but she accepts it, ya'know? Like you did.

I never meant for it to happen, Maria, please believe that. I intended to be devoted to you til I died... but I can't. And it hurts like a bitch that I can't.  I fell for her, and, to be completely honest, she can give me what you can't anymore. What you've stopped giving me. Congratu-fucking-lations to me.  

I am so sorry that it turned out like this. That this shit fell out the way they did. God, if I could write our lives out, none of this would have happned. If it was my story, we'd still be two happily devoted people, madly and wildly in love with each other, living in our house and surrounded by our children. Children we never got to have. I wanted those children, Maria, and I know you wanted them too. She can give me children. I know she's desprate for a family.

It's starting to rain. I don't know if it's raindrops or teardrops that are making my eyes sting and clouding my vision. I think it's a mixture of both.  I never knew I could talk so much, or this ri-godamn-diculously long. I've never tried it before. But I guess... I guess I better go now. It's late, and she's waiting in the car for me. I'm leaving the flowers with you. Wild roses, your favorite. I promise you I'll always bring wild roses when I visit you on our Sunday visits.

Again, I'm sorry for the way this all came about. If you were here to meet her, you'd like her too. She's the kind of women you'd want for me. She makes me happy, and you told me to be happy in life. I'm getting there. The caretaker is bitching at me to leave, he wants to close the gates now. Besides I don't want to keep her waiting much longer, cemetary's scare the shit out of her.

Good-bye for now, my love. I love you now and always. Watch over me.

The End.