Just a Touch
by Kristin
Disclaimer: I'm not trying to infringe on any copywrites here. "Roswell"
and its characters belong to the WB and a bunch of other people.
~Press your lips to my heart
Release the breath of life into me
Tear the flesh that surrounds my fear
With the same hand heal the wound~
-"Forever", Human Drama
I'm not ready to die.
No one has to tell me that it's the end. The truth hangs there, in the
air, supported by all of their faces. And the blood-its sticky warmth is
spreading out over my chest. I want to scream to my veins to stop pumping,
hold on for a moment, I just need a bit more time... don't I..? If they
rush me to the hospital right now...
No.
It can feel it. Death is crawling all over me, permeating my skin, robbing
me of my warmth. It chokes me.
But I'm not ready to die.
A steady calm should be stealing over me. A gentle smile should be curving
my lips, as I bid my loved ones a tender goodbye. That's what all the
books say. That's what they do on TV... And I have to be a hero, it's the
only thing that I have left.
But I'm not ready to die.
Panic still clutches at my breast. I fight to breath, to push my chest up
and down. There you go...see, we can do this... And my father squeezes my
body like a rag doll, like I'm already gone-a shell. He's crying-I can
feel the wet tears against my hair, against my face-but I hear nothing.
White noise has filled my senses, whispering secrets. It tells me to let
go.
But I'm not ready to die.
And then I see an angel hovering over me, pale visage streaked with pain.
Such compassion in those brown eyes... He can see right through me and
down to my soul, I just know it. And I don't care that for most of my life
I've known this boy as Max Evans. Nothing this beautiful can be human.
Dark lashes kiss flushed cheeks as he blinks away tears. My dad is
pleading, shaking...but it's in a different world, another time. This one
is filled with light, the brightness emanating from a bittersweet smile.
Oh god, I don't want to go yet. Just a little bit longer, please. I need
to touch him, this creature that has been hiding from me in plain sight
all of these years. Just a touch...
I'm not ready to die.
* * * * * * * * *
This isn't happening. Close your eyes Max. Maybe if you blink real slow it
will all disappear and Kyle won't be laying here dying. Close your eyes
damnit! He's too young. *We're* too young. It's too young to die. He's
supposed to be there to graduate, go to college, become a cop like his
"old man", pick up the pieces for Liz when all of this alien shit goes to
hell. He's too alive to die, too *there*.
But where is that electricity, that presence, now? Where is the strength,
the fight? It's bleeding out between his fingers, pooling on the ground in
this pathetic excuse of a hideout. In the middle of no where. This isn't
his fate-no matter what the bullet wound says, no matter what his fading
pulse says. This will never be his fate, not while I have to power to
change the sands of time.
He's watching me. I can feel his eyes tracking mine, as if he knows my
heart holds the key to his survival and not these hands. But he can't, he
can't possibly... Is there something in my eyes? Something that gives away
that this isn't just some duty, some responsibility? That I *need* to save
him just as much as he needs to live..? Because otherwise I'd simply give
up, apologize to his grief stricken father, and mourn. Guilt isn't enough
to conquer death.
But I can do this. I can reach down inside of myself-past the frustration
and jealousy and suspicion-to find love. I find passion in his pursuit
of Liz and admire it. I find loyalty and devotion buried deep in his
treatment of his father and respect it. I find beauty in his easy
movements, challenging smiles, and determined eyes and I crave it. I put
my hands on the wound and I see *him*, the Kyle underneath it all. Beneath
my hands it all seeps out, coating my insides like syrup. His essence
fills me, and I drink it in. I could love this boy...
His eyes are calling me, pulling me in. I think it's time.
Reaching, searching, looking for the place... For the empty place in his
mind that I can latch onto and fill... Where I can join us, bring him back
from the edge just long enough... Just long enough to make him mine, not
death's.
And I can see the world in a new light. I can see it through his eyes and
it's awe inspiring. I'm breathless, speechless, running on instinct into a
flash of darkness. And shards of memories assault me endlessly, melding
with mine into a rainbow of the past. I'm got him now, reeling him in
while my hands paint miracles into his chest. I can feel the flesh
knitting up under my hands and it sends a wave of relief coursing through
my veins.
I can feel Liz's gaze on me as I pull away, but it's colorless. The
purples and greens and blues of her emotions bounce effortlessly off my
new shield. Strange, being separate again... it's like a breath of fresh
air. Her mind might be reaching for mine, her skin might be tingling with
longing...but I'm not sure. Fascinating.
I turn for one last glimpse at Kyle, needing to reassure myself of his
condition. Our gazes brush each other...and I'm shot. Panicked, I mentally
search myself for the wound, mind skimming over head, neck, chest,
stomach, legs... Nothing. But it's burning, there's a burning. And my
palms, they itch.
Oh god, what have I done?
He's calling to me silently and I need to answer, it's in my blood. I need
to feel him. Just a touch... But Agent Pierce is dead. And Michael's
hurting. And the world has gone insane. Just a touch...
But I can't. I won't. This isn't right. Close it off Max, cut it off. Push
him out of your head. Go *away* Kyle. I couldn't let you die, but GO
AWAY.
But he sees me. He sees through the feigned apathy, of course he does.
They can do that, the ones I've taken inside of me. I know that now...
And if I had known... If I had known it would be this way, would I
have laid my hands on his broken skin? Would I have stepped across the
great divide to bring him back if I had known what would happen to us on
the other side? Maybe not... Probably so... Definitely yes.
He wasn't ready to die.
And I wasn't ready to let him.
~You touch me and suddenly I have no past
My secrets I release willingly
Man and child together as one
Holding in my hands both knowledge and innocence~
-"Forever", Human Drama
END
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