|posted on 10-Nov-2001 9:06:53 AM|
Author: Chris Kenworthy (chris⊕chriskweb.net)
Spoilers: Anything and everything stargazer or Isabellish
Disclaimer: I have no rights to the Roswell characters, but since when has that stopped any of us? Didn't write the song either - don't have the liner notes here, but I wanna say Stephanie Bentley.
Content: Stargazer angst, third season
Feedback: I tear my *soul* out for you people. Answer, damn you, ANSWER!! :-D
"Alex?" Isabel swung the door to her bedroom closed, and called a little louder. "Alex, where are you?"
She stared straight at the chair across from her bed, but the familiar face of Alex Charles Whitman didn't appear. That was strange in and of itself. For five months now, whenever she called on Alex, he, (or at least his apparition,) had appeared. When she didn't talk to him for a few days, it was because Isabel got too busy to think about him, not because he didn't show up. Alex had never abandoned her.
Of course, he was dead, and Isabel was realistic enough to accept that the visions of him were just in her mind. So if Alex wasn't coming to her, the reason had to be inside her. And it had to have something to do with...
"What the heck *is* this?" Sitting down on the bed, Isabel opened the package she'd gotten in the mail. She'd noticed Alex's old address in the return spot, and knew that it was addressed to her, but hadn't noticed anything else.
A rip opened the outer envelope. The first slip of paper she found inside was small. "Hello Isabel. Still finding Alex's things here and there. When I saw your name on this, I didn't read any more. I knew how much you meant to my son, and it didn't feel right to pry. Hope it brings you joy and not sadness. Steven Whitman."
Isabel looked up at the chair. Still nothing. "Well, are you gonna tell me what this is all about, or let me find out the hard way?" she asked rhetorically to the empty air. Back into the manilla envelope again.
There was only one more sheet of paper inside, but it was a bit one. "Isabel," it read on the first side. "I was walking home from band practice tonight, along Bergen street. About a block ahead of me, you and that Grant guy came out of Senor Chow's, laughing together. He opened his car door for you, and then you kissed him."
Isabel caught her breath, remembering the night Alex must have been talking about. It was a few days before the Dupes had shown up in Roswell... and about a few weeks before Tess had started her campaign to drag him off to 'Sweden.' She wiped a tear away from her eye before it could threaten to fall of its own accord, and went back to the letter.
"It's funny how much that got to me. I thought I'd left you and me in the hands of the universe -- if it was meant to be, it would happen. But I can't help but hear four words you said, over and over. 'You know, *any* guy.' From your little 'it's not you, it's me' speech you gave me in September. But obviously, Grant isn't just any guy.
"I can tell it makes you happy to be around him. I wish I could be happy for you, and with you. But I'm sorry, the guy is just bad news. It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm crazy in love with you - at least, I don't think it does. He's just not the right one.
"Um... well, I guess that's it. I'm not going to give you this, I don't think. Just writing it out has been enough. See you at the crashdown tomorrow for hanging with the gang - except you won't know about this letter, of course."
That was all. There wasn't a signature - no need for one. Idly, Isabel flipped over the sheet, and realized that there was something else on it. Not more text like there had been on the original face - the reverse had lyrics, and what Isabel very vaguely recognized as bass guitar chord notations for a song. Iz wasn't very musical, but somehow she knew that she was humming along the right tune as she silently read the words.
"I saw you again last night, at the Sunset Grill, but ya didn't see me.
You looked so happy with that friend you said was just a friend.
Maybe you'd changed your mind, about all that space you needed desperately.
Or maybe you lied and never meant it.
"One day you'll see -- that you,
Could've had me, could've had me, yeah.
You'll wake up all alone and be sorry.
"I'm spendin' lots of time reading all those books, that just sat on my shelf.
Callin' up friends who haven't heard from me in quite a while.
I'm learning lots of things, about life and love, and liking myself.
Finally gettin' by without you.
"One day you'll see; that you
Could've had me, could've had me, yeah.
You'll wake up and know that something's missing...
But I'll be free. And you -- could've had me,
Could've had me, yeah.
You could've had me to yourself.
(All to yourself...)
"What's done is done (what's done is done)
And life moves on, but it's -
Such a shame that you couldn't see (couldn't see)
It could've been you:
It could've been you and me...
"One day you'll see.
That you could've had me
Could've had me, baby.
You'll wake up and notice something's missing...
When you wake up -- I'll be free
And you - could've had me, could've had me yeah.
You could've had me to yourself...
I saw you again last night at the sunset grill, but you didn't see..
(didn't see,) didn't see me.
Could've had, (could've had,) could've had...
When Isabel finally looked up from the lyrics, there was no denying the tears. They were all over her face, her arms, the sheet of paper itself. She reached out and put it out of harm's way quickly, on the chair she had been expecting Alex to materialize in. Now, somehow, she thought she knew why he hadn't.
It was no coincidence that Alex had made his notes for this song on the back of the letter to her, Isabel knew. They were both about her. And she knew for certain that Alex would never have shown her either. He was perceptive enough to know that they would hurt her feelings, and the last thing Alex Whitman would ever have wanted to do was hurt her.
The worst of it was, it was all true. She had treated Alex like garbage until too late, and had regretted it ever since. And now the damning words, from Alex himself, had come to Isabel by chance, and she couldn't argue with any of it. She couldn't even... well, what *could* she do??
Nervously, Isabel's fingers strayed to the ring on her other hand. "Alex, what the hell do you expect me to do now?" she complained.
There was no answer.