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Air, Long Version

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list January 12, 2001

Author: Minnie
Title: Air
Rating: PG
Category: UC - Maria/Courtney
Dedication: To Helen, who simply rocks!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. No infringement intended.
Distribution: Please ask.
Author's Note: Maria POV. Feedback to

Air. It is the ultimate freedom. It holds no boundaries, no limitations.

The cavernous interior of the UFO Center reeks with it. Space and time seem to hold to a pattern here, a pattern unwilling to corrupt the silence.

I call out a name, only to have the air return it to me undisturbed. I shrug and wander soundlessly through the halls, my footsteps taking me to one solitary corner.

I draw a shaky breath as I look upon on it. Powered by an inexplicable force, I rush to expand my lungs to take in my fill of air. It seeps in me, nebulous and floating, to hug the walls of my being. Welcoming cells open to enclose in its whispering tendrils in a warm grasp. My eyes droop slightly to savor the sharpness of being free, alive and energized.

My grasp automatically tightens in restraint as it craves more of this feeling. But air lashes out, rebels in the most elemental way. It holds back until I can take it no more and have to expel it with force. It departs willingly, leaving me with nothing but emptiness.

I glance at the corner once more, looking past it to see ... nothing. Nothingness. Emptiness. Something without size or shape, without form or substance.

Something which she had become. She who no longer was. She who once lay in that spot which I now hover above.


With quiet reluctance, I think of her. Expecting a big, blank nothing to come, I feel overwhelmed when a whirlwind of emotions attacks instead.

Glee comes with the force of gale winds. A part of me rejoices at her loss, cavorting in celebration of her absence.

Guilt then arrives in a gust, rebuking me for daring to dance at the apparent demise of a battered foe-turned-ally.

Anger charges in breezily, haranguing me for denying the partial truth of my feelings.

Above all, confusion reigns, breathing saucily down my neck and clouding my head with strange thoughts. What brought her to that final resolution?


She fought hard for her form, fought those who would try to destroy it. Her struggles amounted to nothing less than a search for the mysteries of the Holy Grail. Or the granolith. Then she just gave up. Quit. Why?


I shake my head in a restless motion, trying to understand why she deliberately and consciously released that which she wanted so desperately. Rebirth. Invigoration. Life.

My mind drifts, trying to seize upon the right answer. "The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one." Yeah, right. Everyone jumps all too willingly at that sentiment. Although lovely and noble, that sentiment fit her as much as never-changing hairstyle fit me.


That explanation was too simple, too elementary, especially for her. She came with layers, both literally and figuratively. As layers peeled, a new side was revealed.


This knowledge fuels niggling doubts, doubts not arbitrarily erased by simple, surface explanations. Frustration enters the picture too, climbing onto my back to add to doubt's weary weight.

I cross my arms against my chest and exhale deeply. Then I watch as the little hairs on my arm rise slightly at the presence of my outdrawn breath. Air drawing on hard form and substance. Air withdrawing from that hard form and substance.

A slight fluttering emerges from within. I struggle to tame it, to stamp and label it "realization" but before I can do so, it wafts away and out of reach. I gulp in air in annoyance.


The air tingles, as though imparted with some great knowledge. Shivers dance down my spine as it invades my nose, moving past it to draw down to my lungs. It parks itself there and once more, I envelop its indefinable figure within my folds.

This time, the air takes on new meaning. Trapped, it cannot be what it is. Free. I release it without hesitation, waving goodbye to its form. Released, it becomes what it is meant to be. Free.


Could it be this that she saw? Oh, yes.

She saw this, saw the insanity of fighting, no, forcing life into a shell, a boxy shell that was already dead anyway. For how could she really live inside something screamed that of deceptively silken traps, of constricting barriers and of limitless limitations? How could she live in something so ultimately airless?

Thus, she released herself from her prison, ending its stifling reign. She mingled with the air, reveling in the freedom of its infinity, as she disappeared into it.

Now with each indrawn breath, I feel her.

"Courtney," I shudder out softly.

And feel her cadence fill me slowly, boundless and unfettered. Then she leaves, mistily floating, leaving me wanting again..

She has become the air.

The End

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