Chapter thirty-seven – Found

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"Marco?" Michael gasps, an expression of surprise spreading across his face. His eyes snap up from the floor, to my face, his eyes widening slightly.

"We've got to tell the police this," I answer, my expression beginning to match his.

He nods, taking the piece of paper from my grasp, examining it himself. "Do you really think this means Marco has been behind this all?" he asks doubtfully.

"You've told me what Marco's like; I'm beginning to think so!" I cry, taking his hand and dragging him down the stairs. "Now come on; we have to go tell the police about this!"

Because our shoes are still on our feet from when we got home a few minutes ago, we have no need to worry about rushing around to put them back on before we go out again. It takes about ten, perhaps fifteen minutes to get to the police station, and once we're there, we head straight for the officer we spoke to earlier.

"Where is he? He can't be that hard to find, surely?" Michael frowns, frantically moving his head side to side in search of the officer.

Suddenly spotting him, I grab Michael's arm again. "There he is," I announce, before raising my voice. "Officer!"

The officer turns around to see me. "Miss Espinosa; Mr Jackson. What's the problem?"

"We found something that pretty much clarifies who's behind the entire thing," Michael tells him. "It's this." He pulls out the corner of paper with Marco's name on, handing it to the officer. "Here."

The officer takes a hold of the paper, examining it carefully. "Hm. And where did you find this, may I ask?"

"It was in my pocket, sir. We think that it fell out the box, and somehow got in there," Michael answers, as politely as possible.

The officer gives a suspicious glance. "How did it get in your pocket, from the box?"

"Oh ... I got angry, and I pretty much threw the box across the room. All the paper came out, and ... yeah," he responds, perhaps a little embarrassed about admitting he got angry.

"Right." The officer then leads us to the room where all the evidence is. "But the thing is, although I personally don't have you down as fakes, people who have never met you might. They could claim this is false evidence, so we're going to have to run a few brief checks with all the evidence, to see if it's legitimate. Is that okay?"

"Go ahead," Michael smiles, raising his arms in surrender. "When will it be done?"

"It should be done by tomorrow, providing all goes well," the officer informs him. He then grabs an evidence bag, slipping the paper inside to protect it. "It's had your finger prints on, but we can't exactly reverse that now, can we?"

"Sorry," Michael apologises. "I didn't really think anything through earlier because I was ... kind of still in shock from finding out about some stuff."

"It'll be okay; might be a bit difficult to work with, but I guess we got no choice," the officer smiles. "Anyway, we'll keep in touch. Thanks for dropping by again. With some luck, we'll speak to you again tomorrow."

"Thanks officer," I call over my shoulder as we begin to leave the premises.

Once we're out the building, Michael stops us both in our tracks by standing in front of me, and resting his hands against my forearms. His expression gives away that something is troubling him. "What if Marco was really behind all this?" he finally breathes.

In initial reaction, I shrug, but then I answer properly. "Well ... then we've solved the case. They've got to track him down first, and interview him, I guess."

He shakes his head, his concerned face becoming a more angered one. "If it really is Marco behind it all, then I'll kill him before he even has the chance to get to prison!" With that, he lets go of my arms, turning around to face the same direction as me. He storms off ahead, coming to a tall, thick tree not too far away.

Before he can do anything, I walk over to the same tree. Believing he's going to abuse it like he did the first day we met, I take a gentle hold of his hands to stop him from hitting it. "Don't get angry Michael. We don't know the facts yet. Marco could have nothing to do with this."

His eyes – once looking down – snap up to meet my face. His anger remains visible as he answers. "Well, who else could it be! Astrix may have killed them all, but you saw what it said in his letter! Someone told him to do it; he loved us all!" As he speaks the latter four words, his voice gives out because he starts to cry. "He loved us all, and he didn't want to kill everyone! You're right! I need to forgive Astrix for what he did; it wasn't his fault! He was influenced; maybe even bribed! And everything in the letter adds up ... Marco! Marco! He must have done it! He must have!" By now, he's a sobbing mess. His back slides down the trunk of the tree, until he hits the floor, sitting down on the grass. My hands are still in his, so of course, I end up sitting down as he does.

"I really don't know, Michael ... " My attempts at comforting him seem to fail; my motherly instincts have vanished again. I used to be so good at giving advice; where has that all gone?

"And once we have solid evidence that it is Marco, he's going to fall asleep, never to wake up again!" Michael interrupts, suddenly forcing his hands out of mine, instead using them to cover his face.

"But we may never get solid evidence, Michael ... " A frown dissolves into my expression as I run my fingers through his curls, trailing off at the baby strands of hair which frame his covered face.

He doesn't answer straightaway; instead, he takes a few moments to calm himself down. Once his crying has subsided, and his tears gone, he uncovers his face, revealing his reddened cheeks and bloodshot eyes. "We'll see," he mutters, before sniffling gently.

"Yeah ... we'll see," I agree, for the sake of ending the conversation. "But now ... what do we spend the rest of our day doing, huh?"

"I'm not sure ... it's your call, really." His head leans back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes averting upwards to the branches above us.

"Why don't we just go home; relax a little? Maybe we could invite Reiss over for a brief visit," I suggest. "I mean, I know we only saw him recently, but maybe having someone else other than me could take your mind off ... all this."

"When will you ever think of yourself, Cit?" His set jawline softens, and his stare melts into a gaze.

"Well, if there are other people in my life, then why worry about myself?" I chuckle, swatting the air with my hand, as if dismissing the topic. "And I'm not the one that's caught in the middle of this. For your sake, I am, but personally, it's not my problem. It's yours, and I'm here to help you, like any normal person would."

His eyes shift their gaze downwards to the floor in light thought. "But you never do anything that benefits just you. It's always me, or us. Never you."

"And that's what I live for," I smile. My fingers rest under his chin, guiding his head up so our eyes meet. Again, I smile, to indicate that I'm genuinely telling the truth.

"There's always something to live for ... " Michael murmurs to himself. His brows furrow a little, as he comes to the realisation. "Y-You live to make others happy."

"It's my oxygen," I shrug, a small, shy laugh passing my lips. "And ... and you. What's your oxygen?"

He doesn't speak a word in response to my question. Instead, without warning, his hand cups my cheek, and he moves forward quickly, kissing my mouth. In natural reaction, my eyes close, savouring the feel of his lips against mine. I come out of my kneeling position, allowing my body to hover over his, which is leant against the tree trunk still. Both my hands cup his jawline, whilst his hands move down to the small of my back. His hands securely around me, he uses this as a way to push me down, so that I sit in his lap as our kiss comes to its end.

"You," he answers at last. "You're literally the air I breathe. Call me cliché and ... whatever. But without you, I would have killed myself by now. I really would."

My hands slowly separate from his face, instead resting on his shoulders to keep me upright. "I'm just one person ... "

"One person is all it takes for someone as lonely as me." His left arm moves from my back, up to my hair, as his fingers lightly slip through my blonde locks.

"But you have Reiss, Clover and my father ... I mean, I know my father isn't exactly the greatest company in the world, but ... it's one extra person ... " My eyes look away from his, to the grass by my side. "Other than me ... "

"Citria ... Clover, Reiss and your father are amazing people; I'm so blessed to have them all in my life. But you? Without you, I would have only had Reiss. Meeting you has given me three extra people that I never expected to get. And for someone who ... who is as lonely as I am, even four people is more than enough. Losing everyone I ever loved has put that into perspective for me. You should never take those for granted who love you, and who you love in return." A layer of tears cluster in his glazed-over eyes as he speaks. "I guess I learned that the hard way ... "

"There's no easy way to learn the lessons of life," I assure him, using my thumb to wipe the tears away as they spill over his lashes. "Because everything I've learned ... has really come from the last eight or nine months."

"What was your life like before your mother died?" Michael questions, as I stand up from his lap, instead sitting by his side.

"Life was ... life was great. Dad was the happiest you ever saw. Mom was too. And seeing them happy made me happy, you know?" A barely-noticeable smile creeps onto my face at the memories of a couple years ago. "I mean, we had the grief of losing my brother Andre to deal with, but we were doing okay. It was a lot easier to cope back then."

"Did you spend a lot of time together?" Michael's interest in my past is rather cute. Besides, I'm happy to tell him anyway; we're in a relationship, after all.

"Yes ... a hell of a lot. We did everything together. We were so close; 'specially when Andre was around. I told you before about how we used to go to the roller discos on a weekend."

"I remember that, yeah. Must have been some good days for you all." His hand takes mine to comfort me; maybe he feels that the talk of my family is upsetting me.

"It was the best time." I snicker softly, looking down at the floor below me. "That's why everything had such a crazy effect on me when Andre and mother died."

"I can imagine ... " He lets out a sigh, shaking his head as I look back at him. "Anyway ... maybe we should go home. We can invite Reiss over. But what about Clover?"

"If Clover comes too, then father will be alone," I answer. A thought then comes to me. "Or maybe we could invite them all over?"

"Sounds like a plan." He smiles at me, standing himself up. Because his hand is still in mine, he pulls me up, too. "When we get back, I'll call them."

"Are you sure? I can call them; no worries."

"Citria, you can't do everything. Let me do something, will ya?" He laughs, which fills my heart with such happiness. He is such a strong man; even after discussing his family, as well as mine, he still finds a time to smile and laugh. I admire this man so much.

"Fine," I give in. "As long as you promise to smile like this for the rest of the day."

My bribe causes him to laugh once again. "Sure."

"You have to say the words!" I snap, with mock anger. Along with this, I slap his arm playfully, careful not to actually hurt him.

"Okay, okay, fine! I promise," he answers, rolling his eyes at my brief persistent nature.

"Good. You can't break that promise now," I tease.

"And I won't." His gaze meets mine, as he bites his lip and winks – again, like two windscreen wipers colliding on a windscreen. It's so cute when he does that.

Having made our agreement, we walk back home, hand in hand.

* * *

Reiss, Clover and father are on their way over here. Once we got home, Michael called them to ask if they wanted to come, and Reiss was the first to say yes. Michael said that he seemed a little too enthusiastic, but I guess that just shows how much he loves his nephew.

"Remember to be careful around father," I remind Michael politely as we set the table for dinner. "He's not left his house for quite some time. He may be a little fragile."

"That's no worry," he answers sweetly, setting a knife and fork down at the place at the foot of the table. "I'll be completely gentle with him."

"Thank you." After setting the final place, I walk around the table to Michael, briefly kissing him as a thank you. Just after, the doorbell rings. "That'll be them. I'll go get it."

"Okay, Angel."

Leaving the kitchen, I move through the house, to the front door, opening it. "Hey guys! Come on in. Michael's in the kitchen."

"How are you, kid?" Reiss asks, pulling me into a hug, and kissing my cheek.

"Not too bad, I guess. How've you been at father's?" I return.

"It's been great. It's lovely spending time with Clover and your father. And it's great living in this area, too."

"Michael said you were enthusiastic about coming here tonight," I chuckle, taking his coat from him, and placing it on the coat rack. "Were you really looking forward to it as much as Michael says?"

At this question, Reiss' expression appears to change subtly to one of guilt. "Yeah, yeah, of course! I love spending time with you guys. I was actually planning to come over tonight, anyway, to see how you guys were."

Why does he look so guilty? Perhaps he's not as enthusiastic as he seemed on the phone earlier.

"I see," I smile, leading everyone through to the kitchen. "And how are you, dad?"

"I'm just fine sweetheart," he replies. "Don't need to worry about me. And thank you for tonight, darling."

"That's really no bother, dad." We arrive at the kitchen, where everyone greets Michael, and Michael greets them in return.

Light chit-chat occurs, until dinner is finally ready. Everyone sits around the table, as Michael and I serve the food up. Once that's been done, we join them; Michael sits at the head of the table, whilst I sit next to him, on the next available seat. The reason I've let him sit at the head of the table is because it will make him feel as if he's in the middle of everyone; therefore he'll feel less lonely, than if he was sitting on the end.

Around halfway through dinner, the doorbell is heard, which leaves me confused. Who could it be?

"I'll get it," Michael and I both say simultaneously.

"No. I'm getting it," Michael repeats, standing up before I have the chance to. My arms raise in playful surrender as I get back to eating my food.

-Michael's Point of View-

Who could possibly be interrupting dinner? It could be the police. It's probably the police telling us about the evidence we found earlier. Coming to the door, I open it.

But before I have the chance to acknowledge the person on the other side, they grab my collar, dragging me inside the doorway, and harshly forcing my back up against the wall. In desperate attempt of getting attention, I scream out loudly, flailing my arms around as he chokes me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Citria running into the hallway. She runs over to us, trying to prise the person away from me. However, Clover arrives at the doorway of the kitchen, and whilst Citria tries to separate me from this person, my head turns just enough to see Clover widen her eyes. In pure fear, she shrieks her next words.

"Marco, how did you find us!"

~~

Come on; we all knew Marco would make an appearance at some point. Inevitable, right? Mweheheheh.
Things are about to get dramatic, let me tell you. :3
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)