You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 19 10/8/18

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keepsmiling7
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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 16 2/01/2015

Post by keepsmiling7 » Tue Feb 02, 2016 7:31 pm

That scene between Max and Tess is still very hard to read!
I sure feel sorry for Alex's mother,
and Tess takes off in Kyle's car..........what's next?
Thanks,
Carolyn

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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 17 2/23/16

Post by morethenwords122 » Tue Feb 23, 2016 10:21 am

Part 17


Carolyn:
That scene between Max and Tess is still very hard to read!
I sure feel sorry for Alex's mother, and Tess takes off in Kyle's car..........what's next?
Everything and anything :twisted: and I'm sorry that Tess and Max having sex with each other so hard for you to read. I would like to say that it was just as hard for me to write, but it wasn't. Max sinking to the lowest depths of himself will be a recurring theme in this story.


Eve and Eva:

I'm back with a new part for you guys like you asked for :D



A/N: I'm back with a new part, everybody :D Sorry, it took so long but I kind of lost my inspiration for this story-- and for writing-- for a while there. But I'm slowly regaining the mojo it takes to continue on back for both. So here's a new part for you guys... and I'm sorry it's a kind of depressing one :(

Anyway, let's get on with it! The song of the week is: 'No Harm By Editors' play when you see :(



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:(

Silence. That was all there was surrounding them now. The stifling quiet air that circled them, icing through his bones, threatening to suffocate and break him along the edges with the overwhelming sting of shame and bitterness that he could taste in the back of his throat, filling up his tongue, and tearing Max up from the inside out with its acid.

Oh, God, what have I done? Max blinked against the noon sun beating down across his bare chest as he struggled to pull his boxers back up his legs with shaking hands. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, smudging some of the dirt from the ground parking lot across his brow.Dear God, forgive me. Forgive me for what I’ve done, he thought with a choked sob. His breathing was heavy from all the emotions he was trying to bottleneck within himself.

He had taken advantage of Tess and her kindness, and used her comfort against her, turning it into something she had not truly given consent to. He had taken what he wanted without giving anything back in return, and a part of him felt no remorse for it… for his blatant disregard for anyone else’s pleasures but his own. Sure, he felt disgusted with himself for his actions, ashamed of how far he had fallen into the abyss of self-gratification and callousness… treating people like his own personal playground. He knew better than to treat people as though they were things... only worth trampling on and using up until there was nothing left to do but to throw it away or burn it all to the ground. It shocked him to realize that he didn't much care.

What would Liz think of him now? If she could truly see the person that he’d become? If she could see just how much he liked hurting people, knowing that a part of Tess was just as ashamed and embarrassed… and reveling in the fact that he was the one to cause that. He was beginning to become what he’d always feared he would… a cold, heartless alien. Liz had been right. Alex’s death, the divide between humans and aliens… and the vicious war brewing between them all…were all just the tip of the iceberg of the destruction that he—and all his kind—were about to cause.

He breathed, stuffing that all down into the back of his mind. He could bend and break later. He needed to keep it together now. He couldn't break down in front of Tess, not for minute… not when she needed him to be strong…. Not when he needed himself to be strong… He was Max Evans, the master of control and logic. He was a king, a God… the one known for his rationality, for his ability to always keep a cold, level head when it seemed that the world was crumbling and buckling underneath them. And, as like with all kings, there was no room for weakness… not when everybody was relying on him to know all the answers… to be the rightful king… He wasn't about to give anybody the ammo to expose just how vulnerable and lost Max Evans really was. He had made that mistake once before with Liz… and he just couldn't afford to make that mistake again. He couldn't let anyone else in… His heart couldn't take being broken a second time. He had lost far too much to willingly break down and roll over. He had to find a way to deal with the situation that was in front of him… the situation that he had just gotten Tess and himself into.

He could feel the pull of his past with Tess and a small piece of him would always be linked to her… would always remember being her husband… But he wasn't in love with her…

Love was all-consuming in a way that left no room for anything else except the object of your obsession… the way he loved Liz. He could never love anyone like he loved her. Liz Parker would always be his first love… his only love. But Tess had stronger memories of their former selves… and she loved him the way he loved Liz. Max had known it and he had taken that deeply rooted devotion and run with it to abate his guilt over what had happened between him and his father.

He wanted to prove to Liz that he didn't need her love or approval to survive. Liz could abandon him, leave him alone to choke on the dusty memories of the love that had once been between them and it wouldn't matter because he had Tess… and Tess would never leave him. Max had used that devotion against her to make himself feel important for just a little while.

When did he go from caring about everyone, to only caring about himself…? When did he begin needing someone other than himself in order to feel human?

“Are you okay?” Tess asked quietly against the soothing wind, breaking Max from his internal chaos. The afternoon wind breezed through the abandoned parking lot of the planetarium, making strands of her hair touch the bottom of her lips… the same lips that he had kissed so passionately only a few hours ago.

Max smiled blandly as he tried to wordlessly reassure her, but his smile was too weak. His breathing was shaky and erratic and he began to hyperventilate as images of what they had done passed through his head, like a bad porno on repeat.

“Max, are you okay…?” Tess asked again, sounding a million miles away to Max’s ears. Her voice was like white noise to him, background music that Max wanted to shut off. He shook his head. It was suddenly too hot being next to her. He felt caged and smothered by her presence. Fair or not, he felt bitter toward her for the reminder of what he had done… at what he had become. He wanted out. He wanted to get away… and he wanted to get away right now.

He could do it, disappear into the sunset, never to be heard from again… It wasn't like anyone would truly miss him while he was gone. Liz sure wouldn't; he couldn't really blame her for not mourning his absence… why would she after all the things he’d done, all the pains he’d caused her? It wasn't like his presence or his love had made her life a bed of roses since that fateful day in the Crashdown.

Oh, that day had served him well, of course… to have all his dreams come true, to finally have a reason to be close to her. He could be near her without fearing that she would one day be able to see through the stone wall that he, Isabel, and Michael had built around themselves from the moment that they had truly realized what they actually were. Max finally had a tangible possibility of obtaining what he had dreamed about since third grade: a relationship with Liz Parker. His dream had matured with him as he longed for her to know and love the real him. He could have all of her, just as she could have all of him— with nothing to hide and no secrets. But, like most things, the bubble had popped and reality came crashing through. It had been too good to be true, because it turned out that they had both been hiding things from each other after all.

“Max…” Tess whispered, squeezing his shoulder blade and leaning into his space so closely that he could smell her perfume all over again. She was so nice, like morning dew and fire wood… and that made him breathe a little faster. “I think you’re having a panic attack…” She said, her voice high enough to break through the static in his brain.

He tried to speak, to reassure her that he was fine… to tell her to stop worrying about him. That was his job… He was the only one in their group who was supposed to worry… but the words died in his throat immediately. His common sense was replaced by the raw, gritty feeling of the loud tear inside his chest. He could swear that sound was his heart ripping in two. No, wait… It was him… he was making that noise. He was crying. It was not his heart… and somehow that made it all so much worse.

“Here, lie down and put your hands on the ground in front of you.” Tess instructed, gently trying to push him onto the ground and onto his stomach. “I’m going to lie on top of you. I want you to breathe with me, okay?” He nodded his head, barely able to comprehend what she had said over the increasingly violent grasps and heaves of air coming from his dry throat.

Max had no choice but to trust that she knew what she was doing. He nodded again as he fell forward into the ground beneath him, banging his head against the concert and gripping the cool grass of the dirt patch that hadn't been too far away from where Tess had parked her car. He bit his tongue, his fingernails scraping against the dirt pile as his vision turned red hot and searing as blood streamed against his closed eyelids. The pain in his head and lungs encompassed him, sucking the life right out of him.

Tess slid across him, her naked chest against his bare back, her arms enveloping his, hugging him close to her as the tips of her toes creased his legs. His body felt cold compared to hers, the body heat radiating off her sent shivers down his spine. He welcomed the feeling of being held by someone, covered from head to toe in somebody else’s limbs besides his own. It’d been so long since he allowed himself to be comforted by anything other than the relief of knowing that he and his friends had survived danger and lived to see another day.

It felt nice to feel something real and tangible… to feel something that he hadn't known he’d been missing. For the first time since she had arrived in Roswell, Max accepted Tess’ presence in to his life. In that moment, he welcomed everything that she wanted to give to him and more.

Tess laid her head into the crevice of his neck, her own salty tears running down her face and onto his pinched face as her fingers carded through his hair, the blood and dirt clumping together into his brown hair. “Shh,” she whispered, her voice small and broken. “It’s okay…” Tess promised, her hot breath blowing against his clammy neck, making him shiver again. She started rubbing circles softly around his back as she continued to whisper soothing things into his ear, “Everything’s going to be okay. It will be over soon… This will be over soon… I promise…” she said determinedly, and he had a sinking feeling that she was talking about more than just his panic attack. Her words began to crack and slur together as she tried to choke back against the building of her own sobs. Her sweet words died in her throat as she began to break down heavily.

He twisted one of his hands out from under her arm and searched blindly for her, trying to offer the same comfort she was giving him. He finally gripped the hand closest to him, pulling it tightly to his chest and anchoring himself to her, rubbing patterns into the skin of her hand. Her warmth once again felt like a lifeline to his fried senses and he had an overwhelming sense of belonging to someone again.

He was a step away from finally having his recent sins cast away into the evening breeze until there was nothing left for him to carry around on his shoulders anymore. There was no need for the art of pretending between either of them, of having to force a smile onto their faces to hide the fact that they were both broken toys that were being held together by scotch tape and super glue, ready to fall apart at any moment and deemed unusable… beyond repair… only to be discarded along with the rest of the trash where they both belonged.

With everyone else, even Liz, he had to pretend that he had everything together… that he knew all the answers that held everything together. He always had someone looking to him to fix what was broken within them, while ignoring what was broken within himself. He guessed it was the same way for Tess too… she always had to pretend around the others, having to make the others believe that she wasn’t hurt by their rejection…that she fit within the group without reservations… knowing that they could probably care less about her.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his voice muffled by the ground as he chanted the words over and over again. With each word his grip on her hand became stronger and he could feel the blood leaving her fingertips as his own sobs came back full force. Apologizes kept slipping from his mouth. He apologized for everything that he’d done to her, for any part that he’d played in the facade that she had been forced her to build around herself to survive… He apologized for the blood, the tears, and the parking lot quickie that had meant nothing and that he wished had meant everything… Most of all, he apologized for having nothing left in himself to offer in return for her understanding, her comfort, and her trust…

He wished that he had met her in his prime, in the days when he had everything to give and nothing to lose. He liked to have been the man that she had hoped he would be… If only he could turn back time and welcome her with open arms and without a wary and suspicious heart so she would never have been forced to be someone else but herself. He wished that he could be someone else… someone happier.


TBC...

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Last edited by morethenwords122 on Tue Feb 23, 2016 1:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 17 2/23/16

Post by keepsmiling7 » Tue Feb 23, 2016 11:34 am

So glad your "mojo" finally returned.....
However, we have a continuation of that "evening" I'd really like to forget.
You did a beautiful job of portraying Max's desperation......and yes, that was a full blown panic attack.
I hate that he now feels connected and dependent upon Tess in his life at this point.
But Max is an honorable man.......
Please hurry back........and put me out of my misery,
Carolyn

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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 17 2/23/16

Post by begonia9508 » Sat Apr 09, 2016 8:19 am

Really great part!

And I have another point of view of Max, in this part... It is always the same with the Aliens: he reacted so badly to the humans suspicions and never even thought that something could be wrong or that Liz could be right... So he just slept with Tess who never said even no and now, he regrets it... 'sorry' doesn't make sense but then, I forgot he is 17 and we all know what are men's hormones, at this age... So I am now wondering what will go on... next!

Waiting impatiently for more - EVE :mrgreen:
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!

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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 18 5/2/16

Post by morethenwords122 » Mon May 02, 2016 12:51 am

Part 18


Carolyn:
You did a beautiful job of portraying Max's desperation......and yes, that was a full blown panic attack.
I hate that he now feels connected and dependent upon Tess in his life at this point.
Yes, it sucks that Max feels close to Tess... especially since a lot of you don't quite know Tess's intentions yet, but it's important for her to be close to Max right now... not only to drive the plot forward but to further drive a wedge between Max and the others.
But Max is an honorable man.......
I like that you still feel that way. Max might not be my favorite character, but he is an honorable man... and Max always ends up doing what is right... even if it takes a while for him to get there.


Eve:
It is always the same with the Aliens: he reacted so badly to the humans suspicions and never even thought that something could be wrong or that Liz could be right... So he just slept with Tess who never said even no and now, he regrets it...
Yes, Max and the other aliens seem to discount the human's opinions and fears a lot in this story, and when they have to yell and shout and get mean to get their points across, the alien's run and hide or to things they later regret to just get a moment of satisfaction of cutting them down to make themselves feel better.

For people who will do anything to keep their human friends from harm, do a lot of the real damage to them. Huh, life's a bitch, right?
'sorry' doesn't make sense but then, I forgot he is 17 and we all know what are men's hormones, at this age...
You're right, apologizes will not be an instant fix here... but Max is seventeen and hormonal. His penis did think for him before his brain did in this situation. Maybe Liz will take that into account too when she finds out...?


A/N:Well, here's a new part :D I hope you all enjoy (Well as much as you can enjoy pain, sorrow, and anguish :lol: :twisted:)

Song of the week is: 'Always Find Me Here- Transit' play when you see :(



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Isabel was nervous. She had only been up to Alex’s room once before… the day before prom. She had snuck up to his window, her palms sweaty as she knocked softly on the glass window, her hair in loose curls winding down to the small of her back, and her heart beating a mile a minute, threatening to jump into her throat and out her mouth. The minutes ticked by into what felt like eons as she twirled her hair around her finger, messing with the hem of her beige leather jacket, trying to look perfect and irresistible for him as she waited for Alex to open up the window and let her in.

It was silly—almost bordering on a morbidly funny tone now that she had time to think back on it—but she had been deathly afraid of being rejected by him again…of feeling her heart shatter once more at the thought of not being able to go to prom with the one man she had secretly hoped would take her since sophomore year. She had feared that there were no more second chances, no more chasing or pleading left for either of them. It had been now or never. She had to win him back… or she would lose him forever… and that possibility had simply not been an option.

Isabel scoffed to herself, a bitter laugh wanting to pass her lips. If only she knew then what she knew now, huh? Oh, God, wouldn't she give anything to feel even a fraction of what she had felt then… to be able to feel that now, to be that naïve again? Isabel would kill to desperately believe again that waiting outside a one-story window pane and fear being rejected twice in one day was what true pain must have felt like. God, would she give up all that she owned to believe that being told ‘No’ was the worst thing that could ever happen to her… for that to be the only thing that she was truly afraid of.

Maybe Max had been right when he told Liz, that she, too, should give up on chasing ghosts before she lost her damn mind living in what could have been… of what had once been. She should learn along with Liz that there really was no amount of superficial pleading in the world that could change the sorrow that was slowly building in all their hearts. Isabel’s worst fear had come true… She had lost Alex forever to the one thing that even an alien hybrid like her had no magic wand to wave over… Death.

Isabel started a little as she heard the door leading into Alex’s room swing open slowly in the afternoon breeze, almost like it was deliberately trying to torture her with what she might find on the other side of the door… but it was useless torture.

Isabel knew exactly what she would find behind that slowly opening door… She wouldn’t find a damn thing… nothing at all. Alex was gone and, it was foolish of her to wish for anything different. He was buried underneath six feet of dirt at the Roswell Cemetery… and that was where he would remain for all of eternity. She might as well accept it.

Isabel walked over to the door, pushing it open further; her hands were shaky with sweat… and the eerie creaking sound of the wooden panels beneath her feet could barely be heard over the quickening of her breath as she walked inside. She stopped suddenly, stock still, as she felt every part of her body quiver to the tips of her boots, her heart plummeting, crushing her chest cavity as if a sledgehammer had hit her in the chest, forming a lump in the pit of her stomach that made her breakfast churn.

:(

It all breathes Alex Whitman, Isabel thought breathlessly as she looked around the room, inviting and nerdy. An almost hysterical giggle wanted to tear itself from her larynx as wet tears slipped down her face. The whole room stood still along with her, dust collecting in the air… yet everything still vibrated with so much life, like his invisible presence was the thing that was holding her in place. The remnant energy of his life force coursed through her in jolting waves of familiarity, making everything come alive within to wreak havoc on her already frayed senses. Being in Alex’s room was like living in a memory of what had once been, almost as if Alex himself was standing right there next to her … smiling down at her as he showed off the autographed Third Eye Blind poster that was still tacked up on the yellowing wall.

Her fingertips ghosted over the small, strange knick-knacks piled up to the hilt into the storage boxes stacked high on his bed. She looked closer inside, grinning fondly at the ton of multicolored post-its written in chicken scratch with nonsensical information stuck to the forgotten eschewed things that she remembered seeing littered across his computer desk that night she had talked to him about going to prom. A few other items still hadn’t been packed away yet, including the worn and used computer science and lit textbooks aligning the top shelves alphabetically in random intervals, the outer edges dog-eared and yellowing with well-loved use…

Her sigh turned into a sob when she saw the old Nirvana t-shirt she had expressed mailed to him back when he was spending Christmas in Sweden. It was folded neatly into one of the boxes and she plucked it up with delicate fingers, holding it close against her nose to smell the already fading scent that still clung to the fabric—a lingering musk that filled her every sense with a deep, overwhelming sorrow. She sniffed, tears now streaming down her face in waves.

Isabel continued to cry, her arms folded over her body as she clung tighter to the shirt, needing to feel as close to Alex as she possibly could now. She prayed that she would just wake up from this horrible, cruel nightmare. Sure, she’d be kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs … but she would be okay… she would feel sane again with the ability to breathe. And she would finally be able to go on with her life as the core of herself became centered again into the right direction, able to label this shitty little ‘episode’ of hers into a filing system in the back of her brain; one that was never to be examined or visited again… Because she knew that, once she woke up, that she would be able to see Alex’s handsome face again, waiting for her in the hallways of school with a witty joke and goofy smile on his face that was meant just for her…

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that the infamous Isabel Evans was feeling sorry for herself,” a familiar voice spoke, causing her entire body to jump in place as though a cup of ice was poured down the back of her neck, searing her skin with a deep bone chill that ran down her spine.

“I bet you’d look good wearing my shirt.” The voice joked good-naturedly, a hint of something primal and possessive in the way it was spoken that she didn’t—couldn’t—want to read too much into. Isabel closed her eyes, clenching the shirt tighter to her person as two similar scents intermixed together to once again fill her every pore, driving her wild.

“Shut up… Go away…” Isabel whispered, pleading with what she was certain was her own mind, playing tricks on her, punishing her for whatever sins she’d ever committed with delusions of him. She prayed for the voice to go away, for him to go away. Isabel really couldn’t afford to lose her mind right now, on top of everything else that she’d recently lost.

“I can’t,” he said nonchalantly, a strange noise of cardboard rustling against fabric sounding behind her. “You want me here…” A spring in Alex’s old bed squeaked behind her, informing her that he was, in fact, not going anyway.

“Why would I want that?” Isabel huffed bitterly, her frustration rising high and threatening to crush her underneath its exhausting weight. She just wanted him to go away! She just wanted to stop thinking about him!

“I don’t know,” he answered, and Isabel could tell that he was probably shrugging mockingly behind her. She narrowed her eyes around the fringed fabric of the shirt collar; she felt her hands starting to ball into fists.

“Why are you still dreaming about me when I told you not to?” he asked, an eyebrow probably raised.

Good question, she thought, her anger still rising, why was she? Because obviously dreaming about him wasn’t doing her any favors, except on a one-way ticket to the loony bin.

“Get bent,” Isabel growled, the dam that had been keeping her week-long mounting frustrations at bay finally breaking down and spilling over into every muscle and pore in her body. “I don’t need this shit!” She nearly shouted, only stopping herself when she realized she wasn’t in her own room… in her own house, and she refused to cause a scene in front of anybody besides herself. She was a perfectionist like that… “And I definitely don’t need you popping out of my dreams and appearing in my everyday life, driving me crazy with your nonexistent presence. I already do that to myself enough by thinking of you 24/7, and I don’t need you—whatever you are—encouraging it!”

“Hey! Number one…Put my shirt down if you’re going to rude; you’ll spread bad juju all over it with your bad attitude…” He sounded testy, and Isabel couldn’t help the strange sense of self-satisfaction at his annoyance. She shouldn’t be the only one exasperated by this new development. “And number two, I don’t want to be popping in and out of your head either, but I’m not doing without a reason. You want me here… close by.” He paused, a slight tilt to his lips. ”Hell, you’re already always thinking about talking to me anyway, I just figured I’d make it easier for you by always being around when you need to talk now.”

Isabel groaned, willing herself to turn around and look at the source of the voice... to look at him. She couldn’t cower behind a plain old t-shirt forever. Isabel Evans might be many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them… and she would be damned if she started acting like one now. She had to buck up; it was time for her to know if this was all really real, or if she was slowly losing her ever-loving mind. She needed physical evidence to know whether he really was there with her.

Isabel turned on the balls of her feet, her eyes still closed as she held her breath. She could do this! she chanted over and over again in her mind, She could do this… She stopped, opening her eyes, and a crazed laugh left her mouth before her hand could cover it. She felt her excitement building, trying to break free against the reins she had on her erratic emotions, alternating between manic sobs and giggles.

He bowed his head, smiling goofily at her as she saw tears well in his eyes. He was there! She thought wildly, the hole that had begun to form in her heart scabbing over and healing. He’s sitting right there and smiling at me, she laughed, Just like in my dream… just like I hoped for.

A wide grin crossed her face as the overwhelming happiness grew. Alex smiled back shyly, his curly dark hair somehow glowing in the afternoon sun. “Are you real? Am I dreaming?” She quickly blurted out to distract herself. She wanted to avoid letting the desire for what was happening right in front of her fade away into the background as reason tried to take over. If she allowed herself to really stop and think about it, she would find it was absurd… find it downright impossible for Alex Whitman to be right there in the flesh, looking across at her, still smiling. She knew that once she gave herself time to come back to herself and think clearly about everything that was happening, that she would let the happiness she felt at being about to see Alex in real life, not just in her fantasies, slip away from her and have reality come crashing back… that she might, in fact, be dreaming a dream that she would possibly never wake up from.

“I don’t know...” Alex answered, his brows furrowed in confusion at the suspicion look she was directing at him. “I know that you probably won’t be seeing me in your dreams anymore…” He paused, like he was trying to think of the best way to explain the answer to a complicated question to her. “At least, It won’t be the real me you’re dreaming about… That is, if you decided to still dream about me in your sleeping hours,” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, snickering a little before getting serious again, “Why?” He questioned, twiddling his thumbs as a look of hurt and spreading confusion flashed in his eyes. “Don’t you want me here… like this?” He pointed to himself with both of his hands.

She stared at him, her eyes wide and serious. Did she? Did she want him here… like this? She honestly didn’t know. Sure, it would be simpler to keep telling herself that she would survive the pain of losing Alex if she could continue to have her deepest fantasies only exist in the dream realm of her mind… that death was far too final for what she was feeling to be anything but wishful thinking come true. The grim reaper was uncontrollable… it’s immense power irreversible. Death was forever, and she needed to learn to accept the knowledge of what was and what could not be changed… to leave behind all the uncertainties of what she didn’t fully understand and the fears that constantly plagued her heart. As much as she wished that there could be, there was no button that she could push to help her turn back the hands of time. Isabel couldn’t will Alex to life— no matter how much she wanted to. He was dead—despite the evidence trying to mount up to the contrary—and everything was different now because of it. She was different now…

Isabel had allowed all that deep rooted sorrow and pain to swirl around within her, burning her raw and gnawing on her obviously waning sanity. The blinding white rage and overwhelming sense of foreboding that she had always felt in her stomach had now built into an abyss of nothingness that she tried daily to stuff into the back of her brain so that she could get through the day. It’s ropes had twisted, winding tight and molding her into the person she was becoming now, someone who was only willing to see what she wanted to… not willing to live with what was clearly right in front of her.

Isabel had to turn all these nefarious things that were hiding and growing inside of her into something productive, to allow it to change her into something that she could stand to live with. She couldn’t keep letting the eternally expanding dread of what others might think of her, of any flaws and insecurities that might peek through the cracks of the carefully designed picture of perfection that was actually her body armor run her into the ground anymore. And if the empty, dark room she was now standing in, seeing her delusions come to life— the exact same room that had once belong to the real Alex Whitman, but now only consisted of packed boxes and flights of fancy that she wanted to be true—had taught her anything, it was that nothing lasted forever… and even the irrational amount of happiness she felt at seeing her illusions brought to life before her couldn’t last.

Life was a weightless, fleeting thing that was just waiting to float away into the wind. So why not take any form of merriment she had left in this juncture of her life and run with it, even if that form meant that she was hastily losing her grip on reality?

“Why is this happening to me?” Isabel asked herself, her hands tangling in her hair. Alex tilted his head, gazing at her intensely. It was like he knew that she was holding herself back by not answering his earlier question.

But he must not have seen much weight in pushing her because instead he said in a droll voice, “I think it’s… you know… an alien thing…”

“I don’t know about that,” She scoffed, her eyes downcast. She didn’t look back, not ready to give her hallucination that much leeway over her yet. Her increasing insanity may have chosen to manifest itself in the form of Alex, but it wasn’t truly him and she wasn’t about to grant her illusions permission into her heart. Her heels scraped a little against the hardwood floors of his bedroom. “I think it’s more of a freaky me thing…”

“Maybe,” He shrugged, the springs of the twin bed bouncing a little along with his movement. “Does it really matter, Iz? I’m here now…”

“Yes, it matters to me!” Isabel snapped, looking back up at him again with a glare in her eye, once again wanting to slap Alex Whitman in the face.
For someone who said that they were doing all this for her own well-being, he was expertly trying to piss her off. “I want to know the extent of just how far I’ve lost my damn mind!”

“Pipe down!” He hissed, his posture stiff and his expression cool. “I don’t need you scaring my parents. It’s not like they can see me!”

“Fuck you.” Isabel cursed, jumping off the bed and away from him. Suddenly being near him made her feel as though she was being stripped to the bone, with all the layers taken away and fed to the birds. She didn’t like feeling this fucking naked in front of someone she was convinced wasn’t even alive anymore… but then again, she had always felt like she was one step closer to falling off the edge of a cliff when Whitman had been alive anyway.

“Look,” Alex growled, his jaw square and his hands clenched. “I don’t want to fight with you…”

“Then stop pissing me off.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m the problem here.” He barked sarcastically.

“Alex…” She warned.

He sighed in defeat. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Isabel,” he said, his voice sounding like he was a thousand years old. “I don’t know why I’m here or what that means, and I can’t reassure you that you may not be losing your mind… but I do know that I want you to be happy, and that I did the only thing that I could think of to do.” He finished, his face pleading with her to forgive him for something that he honestly didn't need to be forgiven for. “I don’t want you to hate me for trying to make you happy, Iz…”

Isabel exhaled; the argument had already exhausted whatever reserves she had left. She didn't want to fight anymore either… she couldn't fight anymore. It took energy that she didn't have to be angry nowadays. Besides, it wasn't Alex’s fault that approaching insanity didn't settle well with her sensibilities.

“Not very smart of you, Whitman…” She murmured. Her mind was running a mile a minute, and she wanted it to stop. She wanted to stop feeling like she was a ninety-year-old woman, instead of the eighteen-year-girl that she was. “You could drive a girl to drink, you know,” she joked lamely, trying to make the hurt and confusion that still etched the lines of Alex’s face go away… but her laugh sounded forced and tired even to her own ears.

Alex chuckled anyway at her lame joke, taking the peace offering like she knew he would. “I guess you’re right about that, but well…” He paused and another intense look that Isabel didn’t want to think too deeply about—it was love, it had to be—passed over his face. “You’re not like other girls.”

You could say that again, Isabel thought bitterly. Not even Isabel herself knew anyone that was quite like her. She was one of a kind.

Isabel smiled and Alex smiled back, “Why are you wearing that?” she asked a few seconds later, pointing to the outfit that he was wear and finally realizing that Alex wasn’t dressed for the New Mexico heat. He was wearing a ridiculously thick denim jacket over a stereotypical red and black-stripped flannel shirt with a faded pair of black jeans and steel-toed boots. It made her sweat just looking at it.

“You must be hot…” she whispered, sitting back down next to him, her fingers itching to touch the uncovered parts of his skin… to make the final plunge into embracing the crazy roller-coaster she was about to call her life now. It was one thing that her heart was telling her that the apparition before her looked real, that Alex had somehow come back to her… but it’s a whole other matter when asking if he would feel real. Could she touch and hold him with all her might, feel the warmth radiate off him through the seams of his heat- inducing clothes and onto hers as his arms embraced her back?

Oh God, Isabel sure hoped so. It’d been so long since she was near someone that felt something besides despair and anger, a person that made her aware of the fact that she was made of flesh and bone… that life still coursed through her veins, that her heart could race from something other than fear as she felt a deep spike of contentment and anticipation and longing flow through her, making her veins tingle at the possibility of something tangible abating her own rapidly growing isolation and loneliness.

“Isabel, I’m dead.” He answered a few seconds later, his voice casual as his middle finger grazed the skin of her exposed arm.

She shivered, looking down between them and noticing that their fingertips were inches away from the other. She didn’t know what compelled her to move her hand away from him… but she did, an almost stoic look crossing her face.

He blinked at the removal of contact. He moved his hand away too, his rapidly cold demeanor thoroughly chasing away whatever was left of the haze of her daydream. “I don’t quite feel the hot and cold quite like that anymore…” he answered, his expression cold and unyielding.

“What do you feel?” Isabel asked, hiding the growing blush behind her long blonde hair. What was she thinking… trying to touch a fucking hallucination? Was she desperate enough for physical contact that she was willing to get it from a manifestation from her own head? She was starting to become freaking pathetic. “Now that you’re dead.”

Alex raised his eyebrow, ignoring her question. “You can touch me, Iz…” She looked away as he scooted closer. “I’m not going to blow away in the wind,” he said softly, his hot breath blowing against her ear.

“Maybe I don’t want to…” Isabel answered shortly, shrinking away from the temptation of letting herself move closer to him… letting him back into her heart. “Maybe I’m afraid that you will, so why don’t you answer my question?” She moved away to the edge to the bed, her embarrassment and agitation at the situation engulfing her more by the second. She was a damn fool to think that she could handle his being there, close to her again—if he was even really there. His death was still too fresh, too raw for her to think that this encounter could end in any other way than disastrous, leaving her even more lonely and angrier than she was before.

Alex frowned, his expression closing off from her even more. “Fair enough.” He bowed his head, his expression growing exasperated. He moved back to his corner of the bed as he tried to stammer out an explanation to her earlier question. “I guess it’s like everything and nothing passes through me—” He stopped mid-sentence, the corner of his eyes creasing in concentration from trying to force himself to continue on with something he was no longer comfortable explaining to her. He went on, “Like I can feel the texture of the planets and the stars within my blood vessels, but it’s the void of numbness that surrounds the universe that sort of wins over that overwhelmingly new feeling.”

Isabel closed her eyes, understanding rushing toward her in a wave that would have been strong enough to knock her over if she hadn’t already been sitting down. It couldn’t be…? “Is it like the universe is cradled within your hands, but every time you want to get close to understanding its power… it slowly dissolves away through your fingertips…?” she asked, opening her eyes as she whipped her head back to stare at him, everything horridly falling into place… A big piece of a complicatedly long puzzle had suddenly been thrown into her lap. Had she…had death turned him into… her?

“Yeah, it’s kind of like that.” He frowned again, his muscles tightening as he turned to look at her pale face. He leaned back, his eyes widening. “Isabel…” he breathed, his face going ashen white along with her as he began to understand what she was thinking. “Is that how it’s like to be an alie—“

“Isabel, sweetie…” Mrs. Whitman’s soft voice interrupted them from the hallway, breaking Isabel away from Alex’s unfinished question with a jolt. Isabel stared at Mrs. Whitman with even wider eyes, an explanation for her dead son being in his old room on the tip of her tongue, but he was gone… evaporated into thin air, like he had never been there in the first place.

Mrs. Whitman peered at her through the doorway, a mixture of strong apprehension and vague curiosity etched on her prematurely old face. “Did you find what you were looking for, honey?”

She blinked back the fresh wave of tears that were starting to fall down her face, the stupid Nirvana tee still tucked away in her grip. “Yeah,” She said breathlessly, a sad laugh passing her mouth, disbelief and anger once again filling her senses, along with the returning wave of a familiar scent that filled her nostrils. “I think I did…”


TBC...

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-


A/N:

Untitled Multi-Mix (You and Whose Army?)

This is probably the longest video I've ever made... like ever or will ever make again (hopefully). It tops at about 13mins. 44 secs. and took me about six weeks to finish because I wanted to find the perfect music and the perfect new clips for the video. I also made this video to celebrate the nearing of the end of Act 1 on You and Whose Army?. In it you'll see some of the emotion for what's happening to these characters now, what's going to happen to them in Act 2 and beyond. I really like this video... I think it might be one of my pride and joys, especially Liz's section of the vid.

So fair warning, you're in for a long ride for this video and this story.
I hurt myself today/To see if I still feel- (Hurt, Johnny Cash)


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keepsmiling7
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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 18 5/2/16

Post by keepsmiling7 » Mon May 02, 2016 7:14 am

Isabel's scene in Alex's bedroom is on of the saddest I've ever read.
Her human side is really coming out, and she doesn't know how to deal with it.
The site of packed boxes.........that says it all.
It's a good thing Mrs. Whitman came in to check on her, I think Isabel was about to be at the end of her rope.
I'm off to listen to the video now,
Thanks,
Carolyn

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begonia9508
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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 18 5/2/16

Post by begonia9508 » Tue May 03, 2016 8:25 am

This part was in some way a little bit creepy for me, because I know that Alex isn't dead! But seeing Isabel torturing herself and imagining seeing Alex and talking to him - says a lot about the feelings of guilt she's got... and I can't stop wondering how she/they will react, if once they will discover the truth! :twisted: :roll:

Thanks EVE :mrgreen:
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!

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Eva
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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 18 5/2/16

Post by Eva » Tue Jun 07, 2016 8:12 am

Alex, Alex,.. What are you doing to Isabel? And at which point is she going to sense that he isn't that? That her gift or power or however you want to call it, is letting her connect with an alive Alex instead of having moments with a dead person? The last thing will certainly drive her insane at this rate, the other thing... Well, that can go both ways.
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begonia9508
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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 18 5/2/16

Post by begonia9508 » Tue Jun 07, 2016 9:58 am

Hey, are you lost in the Roswell world? Because I really want to know what will happen, in this story... That would be so nice and thausend thanks in advance!

EVE :wink: :mrgreen:
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!

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Twilighteyes
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Re: You and Whose Army? (AU,CC,MATURE) Part 18 5/2/16

Post by Twilighteyes » Sat Jun 25, 2016 5:56 pm

please come back!!!!!
Dig my grave,
Dig it deep.
Marble stone,
From head to feet.
And on that stone,
Place a dove.
To show the world,
I died for love.

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