Attraction to Zenith (UC,Mi/L,TEEN) Letter Q 9/8 [WIP]
Posted: Sat Jan 15, 2011 1:20 am
Title: Attraction to Zenith, and Everything in Between
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and 20th Century Fox. No infringement is intended and I make nothing off this story. Just having a bit of fun.
Beta: The lovely Whims! Thanks for everything!
Pairings: Michael/Liz; Implied M/L
Rating: Teen
Summary: Drabble-verse; A challenge to write a different drabble based on every letter in the alphabet; the ABC’s of Michael and Liz. I saw this for a Veronica Mars site and liked the concept and decided to apply it to the Roswell-verse.
AN: Drabbles will be alphabetical order but not necessarily chronological order.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A is for appeal. He didn’t get it when he was younger and couldn’t see what Max had seen in her over the eight years he’d had to listen to him wax poetic about her hair, her smile, her eyes, her sweet disposition and intellect - although he'd been intrigued by the flashes of fire that surfaced on occasion, belying the quintessential good girl persona. But staring into determined chocolate eyes as she stepped in front of him undaunted, he couldn’t help but feel a spark, a flash of admiration that despite the visible tremble wracking her body, she didn’t back down.
Flicking a cool glance over her pinched, hesitant features, he swallowed thickly, his stomach jumping when she shifted forward, frantically appealing to his common sense, pointing out how foolish running would be at this time, and he felt that admiration grow in spite of wanting to shove this interloper out of his life. She was a challenge, an enigma and she didn’t fit into his carefully scripted, guarded life, and that terrified him, made him act far harsher than he intended, his words dripping scorn as he smirked at her.
She didn’t even flinch, even as her kooky friend stepped back, intimidated by his words and manner, but she gazed at him, resolved to stand by them no matter how much he pushed her, no matter what hateful words he flung her direction, and in that cold, darkened alley he finally understood everything Max had been saying over the years.
A is for Approval. He had craved it all his life. To know that he fit somewhere, that there was someone that could accept him, flaws and all. Max and Isabel accepted him because he was like them, they had a secret that forced them together, but despite their past ties, he had never truly felt they approved or even fully respected him as a person. They always treated him as a somewhat misguided, aberrant little brother who had to be watched constantly; someone they couldn’t trust fully despite the fact that his well-honed instincts had garnered them more information than all their apathetic attempts.
His first taste of full acceptance was surprisingly from her. Max wanted him to be more responsible. Isabel wanted him to take fewer chances. The Evans saw him as not quite good enough to associate with their children. Hank saw him as a freak and nothing more than a paycheck. But she didn’t expect anything from him other than what he was. She didn’t prod or try to guide his actions, and while she may not always agree with the way he handled things, she stood in his corner. It was baffling, yet freeing.
And every time he faced the flash of disappointment or disregard from his so-called siblings’ eyes, he remembered the flash of concern and apprehension in hers when she stood outside his home, one he never let anyone see, and warned him about Topolsky and felt vindicated that he had an ally, someone willing to stand beside him through it all.
A is for Avoidance. He had spent all his life not only hiding what he was, but also the less savory aspects of his life with the town drunk – his abuse, both mental and physical, never having enough, never being enough. Isabel and Max thought they knew him so well, but the truth was, they had never even scraped the surface of his mask. They never made it past the strategically cultivated lie that concealed the scars from a life he didn’t choose, but was forced to embrace because the alternative would leave him vulnerable.
So it was no surprise that he chose to avoid her and the entire situation, keeping his thoughts and emotions buried behind an impenetrable stonewall. Avoid connections, avoid astute, intelligent eyes that saw far too much, knew too much and threatened the carefully crafted façade without even trying. But she was everywhere, poking her nose in places it didn’t belong, discovering secrets she had no business knowing and poking holes into that wall of ice he maintained to keep the world at arms length.
She became the first human he trusted; and although he’d never admit it, her presence in his life terrified him, shook him up and the wall, once stronger than granite, was beginning to erode, to crumble around him.
A is for Apology. He never said the words, preferring to convey his sentiments in action since words often failed him and it was too easy to conceal intentions with carefully crafted sentences. What were words really other than yet one more way to lie? But expressions, body language, actions, they spoke more than the actual words ever could. So he didn’t bother to say them to her as he handed her back her journal.
Rather, he told her that he considered her a friend, smiled faintly, looked at her warmly and openly for the first time, allowed her to see behind the frigid mask for the briefest moment, because that small acknowledgment was worth a thousand platitudes. He saw her acceptance in the softness of her smile, the tilt of her head as she studied him contemplatively and the shy glow in her eyes as he lightly teased her before walking out the door. He could have destroyed the journal, it probably would have been smarter, but touched by the insight he gained to her heart and soul, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the tome.
It was an apology, despite the words never being uttered between them and he knew the message was received when Max told him the next day that she had called him a good friend. He admits, it was a test, to see if she would keep his secret, that she would accept his words in the light he intended and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face to learn that he had been right to trust his instincts.
A is for Acceptance.
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and 20th Century Fox. No infringement is intended and I make nothing off this story. Just having a bit of fun.
Beta: The lovely Whims! Thanks for everything!
Pairings: Michael/Liz; Implied M/L
Rating: Teen
Summary: Drabble-verse; A challenge to write a different drabble based on every letter in the alphabet; the ABC’s of Michael and Liz. I saw this for a Veronica Mars site and liked the concept and decided to apply it to the Roswell-verse.
AN: Drabbles will be alphabetical order but not necessarily chronological order.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A is for appeal. He didn’t get it when he was younger and couldn’t see what Max had seen in her over the eight years he’d had to listen to him wax poetic about her hair, her smile, her eyes, her sweet disposition and intellect - although he'd been intrigued by the flashes of fire that surfaced on occasion, belying the quintessential good girl persona. But staring into determined chocolate eyes as she stepped in front of him undaunted, he couldn’t help but feel a spark, a flash of admiration that despite the visible tremble wracking her body, she didn’t back down.
Flicking a cool glance over her pinched, hesitant features, he swallowed thickly, his stomach jumping when she shifted forward, frantically appealing to his common sense, pointing out how foolish running would be at this time, and he felt that admiration grow in spite of wanting to shove this interloper out of his life. She was a challenge, an enigma and she didn’t fit into his carefully scripted, guarded life, and that terrified him, made him act far harsher than he intended, his words dripping scorn as he smirked at her.
She didn’t even flinch, even as her kooky friend stepped back, intimidated by his words and manner, but she gazed at him, resolved to stand by them no matter how much he pushed her, no matter what hateful words he flung her direction, and in that cold, darkened alley he finally understood everything Max had been saying over the years.
A is for Approval. He had craved it all his life. To know that he fit somewhere, that there was someone that could accept him, flaws and all. Max and Isabel accepted him because he was like them, they had a secret that forced them together, but despite their past ties, he had never truly felt they approved or even fully respected him as a person. They always treated him as a somewhat misguided, aberrant little brother who had to be watched constantly; someone they couldn’t trust fully despite the fact that his well-honed instincts had garnered them more information than all their apathetic attempts.
His first taste of full acceptance was surprisingly from her. Max wanted him to be more responsible. Isabel wanted him to take fewer chances. The Evans saw him as not quite good enough to associate with their children. Hank saw him as a freak and nothing more than a paycheck. But she didn’t expect anything from him other than what he was. She didn’t prod or try to guide his actions, and while she may not always agree with the way he handled things, she stood in his corner. It was baffling, yet freeing.
And every time he faced the flash of disappointment or disregard from his so-called siblings’ eyes, he remembered the flash of concern and apprehension in hers when she stood outside his home, one he never let anyone see, and warned him about Topolsky and felt vindicated that he had an ally, someone willing to stand beside him through it all.
A is for Avoidance. He had spent all his life not only hiding what he was, but also the less savory aspects of his life with the town drunk – his abuse, both mental and physical, never having enough, never being enough. Isabel and Max thought they knew him so well, but the truth was, they had never even scraped the surface of his mask. They never made it past the strategically cultivated lie that concealed the scars from a life he didn’t choose, but was forced to embrace because the alternative would leave him vulnerable.
So it was no surprise that he chose to avoid her and the entire situation, keeping his thoughts and emotions buried behind an impenetrable stonewall. Avoid connections, avoid astute, intelligent eyes that saw far too much, knew too much and threatened the carefully crafted façade without even trying. But she was everywhere, poking her nose in places it didn’t belong, discovering secrets she had no business knowing and poking holes into that wall of ice he maintained to keep the world at arms length.
She became the first human he trusted; and although he’d never admit it, her presence in his life terrified him, shook him up and the wall, once stronger than granite, was beginning to erode, to crumble around him.
A is for Apology. He never said the words, preferring to convey his sentiments in action since words often failed him and it was too easy to conceal intentions with carefully crafted sentences. What were words really other than yet one more way to lie? But expressions, body language, actions, they spoke more than the actual words ever could. So he didn’t bother to say them to her as he handed her back her journal.
Rather, he told her that he considered her a friend, smiled faintly, looked at her warmly and openly for the first time, allowed her to see behind the frigid mask for the briefest moment, because that small acknowledgment was worth a thousand platitudes. He saw her acceptance in the softness of her smile, the tilt of her head as she studied him contemplatively and the shy glow in her eyes as he lightly teased her before walking out the door. He could have destroyed the journal, it probably would have been smarter, but touched by the insight he gained to her heart and soul, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the tome.
It was an apology, despite the words never being uttered between them and he knew the message was received when Max told him the next day that she had called him a good friend. He admits, it was a test, to see if she would keep his secret, that she would accept his words in the light he intended and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face to learn that he had been right to trust his instincts.
A is for Acceptance.