The words tore from his throat. Each one harder to vocalize than the previous. "Maybe I love you too much." He paused. Breathed. Stared into her huge, shocked, green eyes and tried his best not to flinch at the joy that he saw there. The hardest word of all came next.

"Good-bye."

He turned, put one foot in front of the other--easier to do than it seemed because they felt like lead. I love you. I love you, Maria DeLuca, and dammit... don't you follow me... But the scent of cypress oil followed him. As he knew it would. Cypress. Her spicy sandalwood soap. And her skin. Damn it...please...

Her footsteps pounded on the concrete and her voice...her voice was husky with anger and tears. "Oh, no, you don't, Michael!" Her hand seared him through the thin cotton t-shirt, marking his shoulder with a print he knew only he would see and feel...and carry forever.

"Maybe I love you too much to let you walk away."

Maria. He couldn't turn around, didn't dare. But his chest caved in on itself...his bloody, pulpy, little human heart beat wildly against his ribcage. She loves me. She. Loves. Me. He kept his back to her and dashed the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. No more words would come out. They were dried up. He tried...and all that left his lips was a ragged sigh.

And then, he shrugged off her hand--her beloved, tiny, sexy, hand--and put one foot in front of the other. This time, she listened to his silent plea...she didn't follow him. She didn't move with him down the Center's darkened corridor.

And she was no longer behind him when his knees buckled. And he sobbed. And the broken "I'm sorry" finally erupted from his throat.

Michael buried his face in his hands and mourned.

He was a killer.

He'd killed Pierce. And one more thing.

He'd killed the only good thing he'd ever had.

Maybe I love you too much.

Good-bye.

She heard the echo of wild grief bouncing off the walls. Part of her wanted to run to him...grab him, shake him, and then hold him way too tight. But the other part of her stood firm despite her shaky legs and her screaming heart. She caught her own wet agony against her whitened knuckles and breathed in.

She made the strangled, anguished, promise out loud.

"I mean it, Michael...I'm not letting you walk away. This isn't over."

And saved her answer to him for the silence inside her.

I do love you too much.

Hello.