Title: Dear Diary
Author: Dark Roswellian Angel
Elizabeth McDowell
Disclaimer: Okay, you know what? I do own this. I own all of this. It's all mine and I'm only sharing from the goodness of my heart. And by the way, Alec is all mine, too. And I'm not sharing him anymore. So there.
Just kidding :(
Copying/Downloading/Posting: Please let me know first, and let me know where my work will be posted as I would love to come visit it. Make sure that it is put under my name, as I would love to hear how others feel about it. Thanks ;)
Rating: K+, just in case
Synopsis: Someone knows a lot more than they should about our favorite transgenics. But who is it and how do they know? Get a lot of insight on what exactly has gone down from the beginning.
A/N: Keep in mind that I don't actually like Logan- I'm still usually nice to him in my fics, but as a general rule I don't actually like him. I make no promises for how (or if) he'll be making it out of this one. Also, I'll be changing a few things around but I will basically keep to the script- poetic license and all that jazz. Finally, extra credit to whomever can figure out first what other fic of mine this is related to.
As I look down at this page, I'm not entirely sure what to say- except for maybe, "Hello." I'm sure that's not exactly what you were hoping for, maybe even expecting. I'm sure you thought that my first words to you would be inspirational and emotional and explain why I wasn't there for the first 17 years of your life, but after thinking about it (agonizing over it is probably more like it) I've realized that there simply is no right way to step into someone's life. Maybe that's why I'm doing it this way; because this way you can get some idea of what my life has been like- all the steps that brought us together and then separated us only to bring you back into my life without even knowing it- all in one easy sitting. Well, easy for you anyway.
Then again, maybe I'm really doing this because I'm scared out of my gourd how you're going to react to all of this. And maybe I'm still really just a coward when you get right down to my core. After all, I may not be sure how to tell you everything that I need to tell you, but I am completely sure that I am the last person in the world that you're expecting to tell you any of this. And, to be truthful, I'm kind of worried that might mean that I'm the last person in the world that you would want to be the one to tell you this. Yeah, maybe this is just the easiest way to see how you're going to react to my story, and part of yours, without having to actually put myself on the line where you could easily reject me. 'Cause I don't know how I'd react to that, but it wouldn't be good. Not in the "I can still walk around and function" sort of way.
So, I guess I've been putting it off for long enough- it's time to actually dive into this mother and let you in on it. But not all of it. Not yet. Because I still need time to figure out how to put it. So, for now, you're going to have to deal with my jumbled up thoughts- hopefully you'll be willing to indulge me and read this thing (I refuse to call it a diary- men don't have diaries- at least that's what my dad used to say, 'course then he'd go spend a few minutes writing in his lifebook, and I don't really see the point of playing with semantics, but then again- oops, I guess I was rambling) even though it probably won't make much sense. So, here it goes:
I remember the first time I saw her. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen- long auburn hair, slender frame, these tiny little fingers that fit perfectly in my hand, these long feet that somehow fit her with these toes that were more like midget fingers than toes- she could even write with them- I loved making fun of her for them but I was actually kind of jealous, this amazing smile that could light up a room- I know people say that a lot but it really was true with her, this adorable little dimple on her left cheek, and those eyes. Ahhhhh, I don't really know how to describe her eyes- picture a moonlit pond in a deep forest during winter but instead of iced over somehow the pond has managed to stay warm just because it wants to be able to let all the animals that come to it drink, and then imagine this incredible warmth that gets inside you and warms you from the inside out, and add a pinch of spice, and you'll be able to begin to understand what it was like to lose yourself in her eyes.
The first time she looked at me, I remember feeling like a deer caught in the headlights- like I couldn't move. I even felt myself starting to panic. Even after everything I'd been through, all the conference rooms full of people that I had addressed, the dignitaries that I'd met, the politicians that I'd spent time with, the international stars that I was on a first name basis with, the publicity I'd received, that moment was the scariest, the most intimidating, the most exhilarating moment of my life, and I had no idea how to react. She told me later that she'd felt the same way, but that's always been hard for me to believe. After all, I was seeing her for the first time- she was only seeing me. And she was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.
I think the thing that amazed me the most was that with how indescribably beautiful she was on the outside, her inside practically blew her outer shell away. It was hopeless. I didn't have a chance. There wasn't anything else I could have possibly done- I fell completely, head-over-heels, eternally in love with her, and I never looked back. I had dated a lot of wonderful women before her, but after I met her and realized what it felt like to finally find your soulmate, I realized that there had never been any other woman that I could ever be with- before or since. And the fact that she felt the same way- I can't even describe how that felt. To know that I'd found someone I could love for the rest of eternity and that they loved me just as much. To finally feel the part of me that had been missing, to feel complete for the first time in my life. She matched me- in every way. She understood me, and appreciated every piece of me that had felt like it didn't quite fit in with the rest of the world.
I don't know what day my life changed more- the day that I met her. In that second that I saw her twirling her dizzying circles on the ice and couldn't look anywhere else, that second that she stopped as though she could feel my eyes and looked right up at me as though she'd been waiting for me to show up. The moment I heard her voice, her laugh, saw her smile at me as though I were the only person in the world. That whole day was magical. Or maybe it was the day that she agreed to marry me- we'd been out horseback riding through the canyon. She'd made a delicious picnic and we climbed a small hill so that we could watch the sun set. Just seconds before it disappeared, I asked her if she would be mine forever, and after she said yes, we held each other and watched as the sunset spread across the sky. I don't think I've ever seen another sunset that even came close. It could be the day that we promised to be together for the rest of our lives (you know I've never liked that phrase- in fact, as we said our vows we refused to say it, instead we vowed to be one through all eternity, to belong to each other as one half of a heart belongs with the other, to never leave one another's side even when one of us was no longer able to see the other for a time because our souls could never be separated). Surrounded by our friends and family, the only person whose voice I could hear, whose eyes I could see were hers. She was the only person I could focus on for more than a minute that whole day. I couldn't believe that she was actually mine, and yet it felt so right that I couldn't even consider denying it. That night was magical. Every day with her was magical.
So, you're probably wondering, and it makes sense to wonder, why I'm alone now. If we were so right for each other, if we made each other so happy, if we fit so perfectly together, then why would she leave me? Where is she? What happened to us? Why did our love end? But I'm not ready to tell you any of that yet. I'm not to that point of the story. And you'd be wrong to wonder all that anyway.
No, I guess the part of the story that I need to start with is the point that brings me to you. See, I am- was anyway- a world renowned mind. I was a scientist, an author, a doctor. I was invited to oversold auditoriums all through the world to present my theories, my concepts for world development.
You know, considering the fact that I was at one time considered to be one of the top 10 minds in the past 2000 years, you'd probably expect me to write better- you know grammar and all. But you should be grateful. At least I've gotten more legible. She used to tease me about that- she said that she could tell I was a doctor just from my handwriting. She was always so good about keeping me real. She was never intimidated by me- she was the only person I ever knew who could tease me like that. She always respected me, let me know she thought the world of me (which I never felt worthy of), but she had fun with me. Never in a mean way- she was even more protective of my feelings than I was, but she helped me feel as though I didn't have to be perfect. When the stress of what I thought were the world's expectations started to get to me, she would remind me that I was just as human as everybody else. I'm probably not saying it right, but it really helped. She really was an amazing woman.
So, anyway, it was a lot of fun for a while there. I was able to outdo pretty much everyone around me. I could stump everybody, well except for her sometimes. And I loved how my theories could help people. And I got paid really, really well for those theories, though it was never about the money. But it did make things easier, for a while anyway. And that money helped give me the time and resources to be able to develop and check more theories- to put together experiments and projects thereby producing enough research and data to support or negate my concepts. It was like a self-perpetuating cycle- theories equaled more money equaled more time and resources equaled more supported theories. Unfortunately, it also equaled more attention, the bad kind. Though I had absolutely no idea that it was the bad kind at first- guess that just goes to show that I'm just as human as everybody else. She would have gotten a kick out of that realization. But, I'm getting off track again.
See, we wanted kids. We were so in love and so happy that we didn't feel like it was right to hold it all in. We wanted to share our happiness with others. We knew that we were young (after all I was just barely 22 and she was over 2 years younger than me), but we wanted to take that next step and have our love in physical form. Unfortunately, we had some problems with that. She'd been in an accident years before we met and it had caused a build up of scar tissue that made it difficult for us to conceive and even more difficult for her to bring it full term. I remember when the doctor told us- I didn't even think about it for half a second. I immediately began working on theories for treatment that would solve the problem. I guess I should have been more about supporting her verbally and helping her with any emotional wounds that it may have caused her, but I was so dead-set that we were going to be able to have children that it didn't even occur to me that she might have self doubts. It took seeing one of my colleague's reactions for me to realize what I had missed, and then I was in a panic to make sure that she knew how much I loved her and that this didn't change how I felt and to explain why I hadn't reacted in a gentle and supportive manner. I must have broken just about every speed limit there was getting home to her to reassure her. I think it kind of proves how perfect a match we were that she laughed it off saying that it hadn't even occurred to her to be upset- she had simply expected her "genius husband to fix everything and hadn't worried for a second."
So, that was the mindset we were in when they found us, and I guess maybe that could serve as a kind of excuse for why we didn't realize what was going on until it was too late. Not that I think it could ever be a good enough excuse, but I am hoping that one day you'll be able to forgive us. Forgive me. For not being there for you, for not protecting her. For not stopping them.