|posted on 22-Apr-2002 3:27:16 AM|
|TITLE: Hanging on a Moment|
AUTHOR: Rebecca Parker
SUMMARY: Future fic, Kyle POV. The gang is on the alert for something...
FEEDBACK: Yes please! This is something I whipped up in about 20 minutes, so feedback is appreciated.
DISTRIBUTION: At Roswell Improv (http://www.bizarroland.com/improv) All others, just ask.
SPOILERS: Up to "Chant Down Babylon"
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, don't sue.
IMPROV #14: clouds - fury - noble - decadent
NOTE: Title is a Lifehouse song.
Sometimes it seems like she's as tall as the sky, towering above us in the clouds as she walks by.
I had no problem believing she was some sort of royalty in another place and time; she has that air of nobility about her that gives it all away.
She tells us of her plans, and I stare at her face as she barks out what soon become orders.
We've done this for years now, and we're all tired. Her more than any of us, but I think I'm the only one to realize this. She tries to cover it up with makeup: concealer and powder to dab out the dark bags beneath her eyes, blush to hide the paleness of her cheeks, eye shadow to mask the deadness in her eyes.
We're weary since Max died, exhausted of constantly feeling like everything can be taken away in a matter of moments. Their great king was dead, and we all, Isabel and Michael especially, feared what the consequences would be.
But none of them, not Liz or Maria even, had been prepared for what the true consequences of Max's death were- that there were none.
For ten years, we had peeked around every corner, spoken in hushed tones and worried that today would be the day when it was all taken away somehow.
But the day never came, and I can tell that worried her the most- that this grand purpose that Max and all of them had once had was nothing.
No Skins, no Khivar, no FBI agents had come to bother them in all that time and they were, except for a few tricks, completely "human".
Liz's powers had completely faded with Max's death, and mine had never even appeared.
I could tell Liz felt guilty; she had told me before that she wished for anything that the powers would disappear, and I think she thought this was the price she had paid.
But we all got through it somehow, banding together, convincing ourselves that feeling or displaying weakness would only come back to hurt us when *it* happened- it being that that horrible thing that would occur now that their king had died.
But it never happened and, after 10 years, I really don't think it ever will.
But still, Isabel acts as we're on full alert, so sure that this all had to mean something, so sure that all the chips were going to fall.
I've tried to talk to her about it, but she responded with such fury that I actually feared her for a moment, something I thought would never happen. I understand now why she reacted so- it was as if I was saying that Max wasn't special - that he was just another guy whose only consequence of his death was leaving behind a group of mournful friends and family.
And if Max wasn't special- than neither was Michael, and especially not her. They were just some people who had simply lost their way, except for the fact that, of course, they weren't quite people to begin with.
So she calls the same meetings every week, pacing back and forth on the floor of the Crashdown as well all listened from the booths and tables.
Maria confided to me once that she thought it was quite decadent of Isabel - like she had to play the part of leader now that Max was gone, and that she had to feel important, but I explained to Maria how it was the only way I thought Isabel would be able to survive the loss of her brother, so I afforded her any self indulgence that, at any other time, might seem arrogant.
She had shrugged as if she didn't understand, but she still showed up every time she picked up the phone and heard Isabel's hurried voice on the other end. She still listened patiently as Isabel imagined worse case scenarios that I was sure would never come.
We were all worn and tired, and maybe even wishing something would come just so we can feel as if it's all worth something anymore. We all want to move on, but we can't. None of us can move away for fear of being gone when something does happen.
None of us wants to let down Max. None of us want to miss the chance to avenge his death somehow, no matter if it's a different enemy or for a different reason. We all want to react. We all want to gain back some of the hope that had been taken away the day that Max had died.
We all just wanted to win again.
But I don't think the chance will ever come, and it's nothing that any of us ever expected, and it's something that none of us, myself included, will ever admit out loud.
We'll go on every day, hanging on a moment that will likely never come, and wishing there was a way that we could get that one moment too many years ago back.