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Reply to Erin or visit her websiteAdded to the Roswell Slash Archive June 14, 2002
I was not expecting this. Not before, not during, not even after.
Walking up to Michael's apartment earlier, I had this feeling within me. One I'd experienced before- one of nervousness and excitement, panic and uncertainty, anger and sympathy. I knew what-or who- it was. Tess.
Blasting her across the room with my newfound powers was not my intention. Or maybe it was. What she had done to Alex, Max, Kyle...me. Flinging her across the room with one raise of my hand let out months of frustration. Tess and I had so much unfinished business. She left almost a year ago, and now I was going to leave her. And I did for awhile.
Later, Max brought us all back together, and we took a vote on something only this group would: do we hand over Tess to the FBI? I wasn't surprised that the final count depended on me, but I still felt the sting. Could I willingly give her to people who would torture her for the rest of her life? No. I knew that before I was asked, my hesitance derived only from my fear of what the others would think. As expected, Maria couldn't understand my view. She couldn't see the power, brilliance, and strength that stood only a few feet away. I did-I saw it, felt it, tasted it.
When Tess woke me during the night to ask me to driver her to the base, I sat there half asleep, studying her. Confused by my thoughts, I felt silent, only nodding to communicate. The whole time I wondered how her eyes could shine so boldly even in the dark. As we left, I tried to be as quiet as possible, motioning for her to do the same. I knew if anyone-especially Max- saw us, they would try to stop us or come along. I wanted it to be just the two of us, for my sanity and for some closure.
We talked little. The air was too thick with the knowledge that we'd never see each other again. When she got out of the car, her expression prepared for what was about to happen.
Screams, demands, guns, explosions, fire. She left in chaos, gone forever.
Now I drive home and try to figure out exactly how to express the news to the rest, and how I should react. Perhaps even how to react to their reactions. Can't seem too relieved, too outraged, or too obvious that I never wanted this to happen to her.
But my first priority is to remember. Remember the depths of her eyes, for they were the color of the sky, the ocean, and all my tears that fell between the two.
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