Title: Leave Me Alone
Author: Dark Roswellian Angel
Elizabeth McDowell
Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. If I did, "Dark Angel" would still be airing, and Alec's presence would have been practically synonymous with Max's.
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+
Synopsis: Set during The Berrisford Agenda, Alec's request brings Max to a realization. What does she decide to do about it? Short one piece.
A/N: Just a short angsty (somewhat heavy on the angst) drabble that came to me while I was watching "The Berrisford Agenda" episode (spoiler alert). I was wondering what Max might be feeling/thinking as she watched Alec with Rachel.
You've told me to leave you alone three times now. And in my mind, I understand the words. But I can't. I can't seem to turn around and leave you, even though I said I would. For some strange reason, turning my back on you, leaving you to the pain and the weight that I see crushing you, ignoring how the little part of you that I can see at the very back of your eyes is begging for help, is more than I can manage.
Your eyes. Someone once said that eyes are the windows to the soul. I don't know about everyone else, but it sure seems to be true of you. Even when you're posing your cockiest grin, your smoothest smirk, your most roguishly boyish smile, I can see beyond all the charm to the man behind it. But only through your eyes. I wonder if anyone else can see it… him. Because he is a man I would love to see more of. He is the real you- kind and open and generous and loving. Maybe that's why I can only see him through your eyes. Because windows have curtains. And if you keep him behind the windows, then you can close the drapes and keep him- yourself- safe from the world. I wonder if it's Manticore that's made you so scared to share who you really are. Or is it something else? Or someone else?
And now we've hit on the real question. The question that I refuse to ask. Because if I ask, then I might get an answer. And then I might have to deal with that answer, or worse yet not get the chance to. Because, you see, if I hide from the question, then I don't have to deal with you. Not the real you anyway. The fake you I already know how to handle- a few snide remarks, a few backsides to the head, a few false judgments, and it's all good. Kind of.
But, you see, the problem is the real you. The man behind the "unique creature unlike any other." The man who understands me because he lived through what I did, and more even. You showed him to me tonight, you know. Or do you? Do you know that when you told me even the brief piece that you did tonight, I could see him? I could see the man who had to fight with his morals, who had to live through whatever they did to him, what they made him do, just to survive. And you did survive. You're alive and walking around and eating pizza and drinking beer and talking to our friends and making my life miserable because you did what you had to in order to survive, but at what cost? You could only be doing those things now because eventually you learned how to hide the man that you could have been. The man that somewhere inside you, you still are- I know because I've seen him. But you had to hide him from those monsters because if you hadn't, they would have found a way to kill both of you. They would have found a way to destroy the good man that you hide from the world, to defile that pure heart that still beats in you. And I don't know if your mask could have lived without the face it hides. The face that I see in my dreams.
Your face mocks me. It's the face of my brother. My beloved Ben, who I turned away from and then destroyed in my attempt to save him. I wonder if I hadn't gotten lost in another's moral judgments if I could have helped him. If I had just smiled back when we first found each other. If I had disobeyed orders and stayed with him that night. If I had loved him back to sanity rather than pushing him to see my way. If… But it's no good now. I can't help him. I can't help myself. Can I even help you? Or can you help me?
I don't know. I don't know what is right or wrong- only what I feel is right. And yet, what I feel is right flies in the face of everything that I've ever thought I've ever wanted. How can something be right if it would hurt others to know? How can something be right when it would open me up to being hurt? Good soldiers aren't supposed to get hurt. They aren't supposed to be vulnerable. And you may have ten years on me in that prison, but I was still raised to be a good soldier, whatever else I may be. And so I continue to fight the truth- to fight you. I try to ignore the man that I see in you, pretend with the rest of the world that he doesn't exist. To prove it to myself, I make light of you, I judge you, I taunt you and throw cruel remarks at you. But it doesn't work. I still know the truth. I still know that the real you is in there. I still know that you are the "unique creature unlike any other."
Sometimes I wonder if I could make you let him out. Make him come out and taste the world for himself. Feel the cool Seattle air against his cheek, the creamy feel of the cigar smoke in Crash, the sting of the wind as we run a job. I wonder what he would make of it. I wonder what the real you would make of me. The real me. The me that I've only shown to the world once before, when I was telling my best friend about the girl locked up inside me. Somehow, I think you may be the only one in the world who could make the real me come out. For good anyway. And that scares me- because if you have the ability to make me open myself, shouldn't I be able to open you, too? But I have no idea how to do that. I don't even know if it can be done. So, in self defense, I continue to batter you, saying things I don't mean, acting things I don't feel. Because I've heard that the best defense is a good offense. And as long as you keep yourself hidden, I refuse to come out from behind my wall.
But I have to wonder if it's worth it. Is protecting myself worth losing what I could have? What we could have? As long as we hide our true selves from the world, aren't we only living half-lives? How can that be enough? Why are we content to have less, to experience less than we could? We both have reasons for hiding. We both have training, brainwashing, that taught us to hide our feelings, our weaknesses. But that doesn't mean we have to hide for the rest of our lives, does it?
I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to be closed off and empty and needing something that I've never had. I want to be open and complete. The only thing is, I don't think I'll ever be complete without you. I never even realized how lonely I was until I met you. And then no matter what I said or did, you wouldn't leave me alone. It was like something inside of you realized how much I needed you. You ignored my words and the way I treated you and saw the me behind them. Is it possible that you saw the real me? Is it possible that you can see her just like I can see you? Is it possible that you've been waiting for her to come out, just like I've been waiting for you? Are we actually subconsciously outwaiting each other? Each of us "fierce soldiers" too afraid to let our hearts open up, to put ourselves on the line?
It's funny. This whole time I've been telling you to leave me alone, and you never have. You've tried. I know you've intended to leave me behind and never come back. But something has always brought you back to me, sooner or later. Some part of you has always driven you back into my life. Maybe it's the part that has been able to see the truth- that every time I've told you to leave me alone, some part of me has actually been begging you to prove to me that you never will. And now you're demanding I leave you alone. But I never will. Not as long as I can see that little piece of you begging me to prove that I will always be here for you. And I will be. No matter what.
And with that confirmation comes a new strength, one Manticore never told us about. A strength born of emotion. I can feel it suffuse my being, buoying me up into a new realm- one of hope. And I realize that I am finally ready to face the real question. The one involving my feelings. And yours. I realize that I would rather take the chance of loving you than risk living the rest of my life empty. I would rather deal with my feelings for you than continue closing my heart. I want the chance to open up to you and to hope that you'll open up to me. I want to know that the man behind the windows is the man my heart has been secretly searching for all my life, even without my having given it permission. With this realization, I can feel the real me coming out from behind the glass. I can feel her smile in the bright light and stretch her full length for the first time as she takes in her surroundings with joy and expectation.
And so with acceptance of my feelings speeding through me, I straighten and quickly pursue your disappearing profile down the hallway. But what I see through the open doorway has me crashing to a stuttering halt. I watch my brother's face as I hear you speak the words telling her that you should have fought harder because you loved her. And while I ponder the morals of a man who gives away his heart when he owns another's, I can feel the real me pulling away from the light and I hear the drapes closing.