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Water, Long Version
Reply to Minnie or visit her websitePosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list January 7, 2001
Category: UC - Liz/Courtney
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. No infringement intended.
Distribution: Please ask.
Dedication: To Ivy English and Kate ... because they love Courtney.
Author's Note: Liz POV. I already posted the original short version of this fic earlier but I went back (after some great feedback) and did a longer version.
Water. It is life. It is death.
The clear, flowing liquid rains gently from the shower head to mold lovingly to my form, my being. It holds nothing back, draping itself over me as though it was a second skin, caressing my body with resurgence, triumph and lightness.
Resurgence. Triumph. Lightness. Water. I want to extend it to those around me, to bathe them in its quiet glow, to coat them with it until it brought them what it has brought me. Life. I grin at the knowledge that in some way, I have reached all of them and succeeded. Except for one. Except for her.
I think back to that day, the day she lay in the water, almost drowning in its gentle arms, sucking its essence to the marrow.
I looked on as the soft water lapped up to her form, envious of how the liquid enveloped her with gentle ease. The stark hardness of my porcelain tub did nothing to lessen the touch of liquid within.
Did she feel it too? Did she feel its silent hum, its live throb, its full surge throughout her being? Did she feel its cloak, its mask of resplendence as I did?
A fleeting glance to her face told me she did. She glanced back at me, her eyes searching mine and in them, I saw life. Or small relief that life still clung, still hung on, despite all obstacles.
I flashed her with a slight worried smile, a smile that carried with it the hope that water could sustain her, could make her feel like I felt.
But what was it I felt? Some of kind of joy, yes, but also some kind of envy. Envy because she reminded me of where I was, where I stood. Outside the water, beside her, looking in on her and her smooth lover. I knew it didn't make much sense, what I felt didn't make much sense. For how could I be envious of someone who had finally been given a chance to feel a myriad of droplets crashing down on her like a waterfall on a dry desert bed? How could I begrude the feeling the same feeling sustained me?
Try as I could, I could not help the shot of envy that raced through my eyes. She saw it too and smiled at me with irony.
I wiped green thoughts away and replaced them blue. The blue that colored some deep oceans and some unknown seas. I projected it, hoping it would invigorate her, infuse her make her dizzy with the triumph of the lightness as it always did me.
Yet it was not enough. Even she saw that. This element, the element that powered life, crashed through barriers, mixed itself to form the almost everything in the world, was not enough. It was merely a temporary balm, a dousing of waves that fell on an empty shoreline and retreated again.
For her, water ultimately signaled death and its coming. For she had never needed it before, only needed it when it was too late. The triumphant sound I heard when water flowed and gushed sounded more like the stark blare of horns trumpeting death to her.
Drought was what she knew. The drought from humanity, the drought that her skin represented. It was a barrier nothing could dissolve, not even life-giving water. Drought was her light as water was her darkness.
Could water be dark? I mull this quandary over, examining its nuances, trying to see what she saw. Could this colorless substance, a substance known to be existence's savior, also be the darkness?
I raise my hand gingerly up, hold it to form a cup and see the water with my scientist eyes. At first, I see it pool and then form. No darkness there. Then the water recedes, slicing through my fingers, moving past them and beneath them.
I drop my hand slowly to wonder ... was this the darkness? Was this what she found? Was this why she felt ultimately resigned?
She knew. Oh, my God, she knew. Water was a slippery thing, just like life, just like light. It was something no one could hold onto, something that only teased us with its bright promise. I feel myself roar out at the injustice, at the mock of its ultimate joke.
I raise my hand once more to slap it away, slap the offending liquid with its errant promises. But the palm of my hand encounters its touch and instinctively curls up to form a cup again.
And I see the water pool and form again, winking at me with its clear brilliance and its light. I look at past her eyes and open mine. No, it was not darkness, not a mockery. It was a cycle, a neverending cycle, just like life was. As the darkness comes, so does the light. As the water falls and disappears, so it forms and begins again.
I close my eyes and draw a shuddering breath. I duck my head under the streams, letting it splay and wash away the rest of the doubts shrouding my eyes. I feel it. I feel its start, its middle, its end. Just as it was meant to be. Everything that was, is, and will be again. I close my eyes and wish she could feel it too. I grieve silently at my knowledge, grieve that she didn't discover it before it was too late. My tears mingle with the rush that flow down the drain. My tears too will become the water that sustain me when I turn on the shower again.
When I open my eyes, I see her. A knowing smirk on her face lights up her face. Slightly taken aback, I blink and step aside. The water behind me still rushes, still flows and I motion to it, almost desperate to enlighten her with its mysteries again.
"Fool. You're a fool for grieving for me," she seems to tell me.
I open my mouth in an attempt to correct her, to make her believe me, believe in me, believe in the water. But nothing comes out. Nothing ... because I see something else in her face, something that strikes me like a lightning bolt. My eyes widen in question, slight disbelief still hanging on.
"You are --?" I finally manage to eke out in a wondering voice.
"Yes," she seems in smug acknowledgement.
I whoosh out a breath. The light of water pales in comparison to the light of realization. Ultimately I am the one in the drought, in the darkness, despite my total belief in the neverending cycle, the neverending mystery of the life-giver, the everlasting lightness. For I am still on the outside, looking in on her. On the water.
She took steps to embrace her darkness, to embrace the death that it foretold and joined with it. Oh, not for the sake of us or for saving our lives, but for the sake of hers. And when she melded with her darkness, with my light, she overcame it, became part of it. No, not part of it ... she became it.
She became the water. She is the water.
My eyes blur with her.
"Courtney," I sigh. And turn to embrace her.
Continue to 'Earth: Sleeping Beauty'
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