|"Jumping the Moon"
by Ashleigh Lou
Disclaimer: I'm just a poor chiklet. No suing!
Summary: Reflections & one-sided conversations.
Authors Note: I even won an award for this one! WOW! :) There's a sequel to this fic titled "Breathing For The Stars."
|Fuck you, Michael Guerin.
Dead. Dead and buried, as of three o'clock this afternoon. Actually, your body was taken care of early this morning, and your coffin was buried with cinderblocks inside. Don't want any more alien hunters searching for the mythical bounty, do we?
Transfer truck, straight ahead, and suddenly you were gone -- your bike scattered into the ditch, your crumpled body lifelessly in the street. Max tried to save you, but I guess it was time to go.
Seems unreal, doesn't it?
There will be no more nights with you in my bed, whispering "I love you" in my ear. The first time, you left me drained from the best orgasm of my life, and then you apologized. "I'm sorry," you muttered as you practically lept out the window. Remember that? I wondered what you were apologizing for.
Then the next day, you treated me like I had leprosy once more, and I thought I understood. Oh, I was determined -- next time you crawled through my window, I would put up a fight, I would protest this, I would say "No, this isn't right."
But then you came to me and said, "Please. I need you tonight," and I slipped my pajama top over my head. This time you whispered, "I can't be with you. You can't get hurt," and left. I wanted to protest, to say, "No, you take all of me or none," but I loved you. I wanted you to be happy first and foremost. So I made the deal.
Remember the deal? You should. You protested and struggled against it, but in the end I won. "Treat me like I'm human, and my window will never be locked," I promised you. And how I laughed when you said you didn't need attachments. "Neither do I," I assured you, and you carried me back to my bed.
And then came the day when I had the headache. It raged on and on and then I found myself in a dream. Only it wasn't a dream -- it was a vision, a strikingly powerful one. It seemed so real; I knew I had to find out if what it showed me was true.
The next day I went out and bought a home pregnancy test. Turned up positive. So did the second one, and the third. So no doubt, I was pregnant.
I told Liz and Alex first. Liz responded with a "What about high school?" Alex responded with a hug. Max came next, and his dark, brooding eyes told me that he didn't approve. Well, neither did I but that's what happens, right? As my mom has preached all these years, "When you play, you pay."
Word got around, and soon I knew I could no longer keep this secret from you. So I planned quite an evening -- special dinner, lots of candles, and a new outfit. I figured it'd probably have no effect, but what the hell? It was worth a shot.
But you never got to eat the chicken I prepared, and you never got to see the new outfit. Instead, you left this world, never to return.
I'm thinking of what to tell our daughter. Isabel Elizabeth DeLuca-Guerin will be a freshman in high school when the the fact she has no father really hurts. That's when it happened to me, when those father-daughter campouts in Frazier Woods began. During those weekends, I became an honorary Parker. Our daughter will probably be an honorary Evans.
How do I know we're having a daughter? I bet you're wondering that.
Obviously, I've had more visions. Max and Liz will get married after college, and become middle-school science teachers. Alex will have rock star dreams and computer realities. Tess and Kyle are going to fall in love, and get married the day after graduation. A baby will come less than a year later. Isabel's the truly surprising one -- she'll die young too. Drug overdose. Isabel Evans? On drugs? Yeah, it'll be true. Modeling in the big city will take its toll upon Roswell's Sweetheart.
I've seen it all.
I just didn't see this -- this accident.
Maybe you saw it. You could always see into me, but I never saw into you.
Maybe you saw your impending demise, and you liked the thought of it. You never really wanted to be earthbound anyway.
So maybe you pulled out in front of that truck intentionally. Maybe it was subconsciously. Who will ever know? But I have a feeling.
Are you listening to me, Michael?
I'd like to think so.
I'm alone now, and that's the way it's gotta be.
Isn't that your philosophy?
|Max/Liz | Michael/Maria | Alex/Isabel | UC Couples | Valenti | Other | Poetry | Crossovers | AfterHours