The Desolation of a Soul (CC/AI, Mature) 1/1 - 04/21/10

[PML]

Title- Desolation of a Soul

Author- PML, beta'd by Mt. Gazer

Disclaimer- Roswell is not mine and no infringement is intended.

Category- CC- A/I

Rating- Mature

Summary- This is the ninth companion piece to A Kiss to Build a Dream On. As the others have detailed, this night has been a mix of glorious highs and horrific lows. This Companion occurs right after Alex leaves the Evan’s. After Isabel has had her mind warped to take away the pain. For now.

Isabel’s suffering could have catastrophic consequences as the next few parts will show. It is not crucial to read these to understand Kiss. But it will help.

This story is how Alex tries to cope with all that has happened to him, and to Isabel.

Hope you enjoy.

Alex-

Alex was hyper aware of Isabel as he left her. He had swum deeply inside her mind through their connection. Searching desperately to find a way to calm her.

In the end he had come across a faint impression. It hadn’t even been truly visual, just an impression of a sick child cradled in her father’s strong arms. Cradling her and protecting her. And from him came a lullaby to soothe the sick princess.

That song, that inhuman lullaby had worked. Would have worked better, but the tune was simply inhuman. Alien.

There had been no way he could have properly sung it. The human vocal apparatus simply wasn’t set up that way.

But it could be played.

It could be synthesized. He still carried the tune.

The tune and many other hints and impressions he had culled from her distant memory. It was why it had been so important to carry this pain. To carry this horrific burden of memory.

Not just for a tune that could bring peace and serenity to Isabel. But for the other secrets he now held.

Driving home was fairly difficult. The wind was still high, and the rain sporadically heavy. Luckily he had driven back a little last year in Chicago when he had visited his grandparents.

He had a little practice on the snow and traces of ice.

And while there was a part of him, a large part, that no longer cared whether he lived or died. He knew that he had to remain focused.

He had a mission.

Aric HAD to die. And he would.

At Alex’s hands.

Not simply for revenge, although that siren song called to him as well. No, Aric needed to die for Isabel. She would never feel safe so long as that monster lived.

And while Alex knew that Isabel would never be his. Would never again lay in his arms like she had earlier this night, she should have the right to find someone who she could live with. Someone with whom she could raise a family.

She should be able to live without fear.

He pulled into the driveway. Got out of the car, and walked swiftly to the door.

He stood there and just let the weather play with him for a moment. Let the sense of Isabel that still overlay the storm fill him. Felt as the chill of the ice and rain filled him.

It was still warmer than his soul.

It was why he couldn’t cry. His heart was too cold now. Too cold to let the water flow from his eyes. He wanted to. How he wished he could just let the pain flow from him in tiny crystalline tears.

But right now the pain was the only thing keeping him moving. The pain and the icy plans that were even now being formed.

He entered the empty house. He walked past the cheery Christmas display, vaguely remembering to water the tree.

He lost track of what he did next. It was all a blur. He knew that he had eaten something. That he had done all the chores and cleaning that his mother had wanted done for her before her return on Sunday.

But in his mind, in the icy recesses of his mind he was building. Coalescing all the fragments into a whole plan. Isabel remembered little of her past. Just bits and pieces, fragments of memory.

Taken separately it wasn’t much. As a whole…. It meant a lot more.

She unconsciously used those memories to use her powers. Alex suspected that the other hybrids did the same. And those memories contained how to use them, what would work.

And what wouldn’t.

There were things that they could not affect well. Certain techniques that worked well against them.

Most were totally useless to Alex. They required tools or equipment he did not have access to. But there was one way, one thing he could use.

They had problems manipulating heavy elements. Some couldn’t even manipulate something as soft as lead directly with their powers. Not directly.

But the stronger users, the nobility and their henchmen, they could manipulate, some to as heavy as thorium.

Uranium on the other hand was too heavy. To big a nucleus to directly move.

And therein lay his plan.

It had been tricky, and perhaps illegal, but his mother had grabbed some depleted uranium from her time in Iraq during Desert Storm.

Not a lot. But more than he would need for a couple of shots. Alex doubted he would have more than one or two chances.

And he would take them.

He opened the door to his parent’s workshop. The place where his father puttered around with electronic doodads. And his mother played with guns.

Alex closed his eyes. He had never particularly cared for his mother’s hobby. He realized her time working in armories, working with firearms had been one of the joys of her youth. She still occasionally talked with awe and suppressed desire about firing machine guns. Feeling the raw power.

His mom was strange. He loved her, but she was strange.

No. He had always been much more interested in his father’s toys.

And there were a few things he would be taking from there too. But mostly, mostly today he would be working in his mother’s area.

He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t go in there.

It held happy memories. And if he went in there now, went in there with the sweat of that damn shape shifter on him, he would never be able to come in here again.

No. He needed to wash himself. Cleanse himself of the nightmare he had suffered.

A shower. A blessed shower.

No one was home. He stripped as he walked to the shower. As he walked to his salvation.

He didn’t even wait for the water to fully heat up before he let it sluice across his body. Before he began to systematically try to scrub all the horror away.

And though he avoided it as long as he could, it was inevitable that he would reach his crotch. Inevitable that his hands would slide along the smooth unmarked skin.

Nothing, still nothing. There was no scar, no area that was sensitive to the touch. His dick and balls were just gone.

He was still as smooth as a damn Ken doll. Just the tiny bud where he could pee out of.

Damn him! Damn him!

No. No matter what happened, there would be no chance of reconciliation between himself and Isabel. Even if there were, what would be the point? He knew that she wanted kids and a family, assuming that she could carry a human child.

He was back to being the foundation of her life.

Back to square one. Back to where he had always been, and now, no matter what happened, always would be.

He felt as the water began to thaw him. As his chest became tight and the tears came.

And he cried. Cried for what they had for such a short time. Cried for what could have been, what should have been. For what would never now be.

And somewhere under that deluge of water, as he scrubbed and cried he came back to himself. The icy shell thawed and he became himself.

He turned off the now chilly water and looked at himself in the mirror. They really were gone.

That just blew him away. That Aric had done that to him.

He stared at himself for a few minutes before nodding. He would have to check some websites to see if there were any secondary effects. If he might need hormone therapy or whatever.

But that could be dealt with later. He was no longer borderline psychotic, but the plan that he had conceived still had merit.

So he dressed and went into the workroom and got to work.

It took tools from Dad’s bench to break into the parts of his Mom’s that he needed. But Alex was fairly crafty.

Aric would never see this coming.