Insecurities:
Part 1
by
Author's Note: This isn't really an author's note, it's more like an explanation, but that'll work too. Anyway, I decided to write this series, as an eight-part story, in which one character dictated each part of the story. As the title suggests, it will focus on the personal insecurities of each character. These stories take place during second season, at various times. Happy Reading!
Disclaimer: I head this somewhere on the Internet, and felt it was appropriate. So I'm going to use it here. *I highly doubt that Jason Katims and Melinda Metz have taken up a new hobby writing fanfiction. So, therefore, you can assume that the characters aren't mine.*
Rating: PG
Feedback, please? I want to know how I'm doing. It goes to teneljade@netzero.net, and thanks again!
Michael
**********
I am alone in my apartment, Metallica playing as loud as the stereo goes in the background, and I am a killer.
It just hit me today, when Isabel was so torn up over the fact that she killed Congresswoman Whittaker, that I had done the same thing, some time ago. To an innocent, which was even worse than what Isabel did to Vanessa. At least Isabel was only defending herself, only responding to a direct threat that was made to her very existence.
Agent Pierce was a threat. I was defending myself, defending us all, and you can't imagine how many times I tell myself that, day and day again, trying to cope with the fact that I killed a man whose only crime was to be too curious.
No! I cut myself off, drag my thoughts away from that day. Pierce was dangerous, I did what I had to. To keep Max and Isabel and Tess safe. I probably helped to save Liz, Maria, Kyle and Alex's lives, too. If the FBI had found out they knew us, there was no telling what they would have done.
But as I push the disturbing images from my head, it is quickly replaced by worries and insecurities, some of them dealing with the fate of the world, some with things that can only be considered extremely trivial in the overall picture. I press freeze-frame on my thoughts, catching a picture of Maria DeLuca swirling around my head. Next to her, vying for space in my thoughts, is a picture of Isabel. I complete the triangle.
Me, Isabel and Maria. Now there is an interesting thought. And one that the fate of the world probably doesn't depend on. No, I take that back. Who knows what could happen when I make my choice?
When? A gong goes off in my head. At exactly what time did I start thinking of that choice as 'when' instead of 'if'? Isabel or Maria, Isabel or Maria? The thought is constantly tumbling around my already jumbled head, but for now, I thought I'd decided to ignore it.
Just think about it, my consciousness, my inner child, whatever you want to call it, coaches. I sigh, and surrender. "All right," I mutter to myself. "Isabel or Maria? Isabel or Maria?"
I have too many organs. I figured that out a long time ago, in fact, I think I figured that out when I met my first human. The heart and the head are not compatible. I wonder which one I would recommend for extermination on a perfect person, though, I ponder. They are both so often right.
Well, I have to start somewhere. Logically speaking, I should follow my head, and I guess that's where I'll start. My head. My head says Isabel. We've been destined for longer than anyone on earth has been alive, and destiny is a powerful thing to mess with. On the other hand... Isabel?
Isabel is practically my sister. She is my best friend, besides Max. Someone to confide in, someone who's shoulder I can cry on, without worrying about being laughed at. But she's not romantic relationship material, at least not with me. I just don't feel anything.
But I can't escape the fact that every little decision I make, whether to get up at 6:30, or wait until 7:00, could make all the difference in the world, literally. The weight of this whole planet rests on Max's shoulder, and I can't imagine how that feels, seeing as I feel squashed flat with just my little piece of the responsibility.
Right. Back to Isabel. Or rather, back to my Isabel/Maria internal conflict dance. Where was I? Isabel, right. And the weight of my decisions.
Isabel and I getting together, or not getting together could mean the end of a civilization. The end of the earth as we know it. Hell, it could even mean the end of the galaxy, the universe, for all I know. We have no idea what we're dealing with, here.
But I still don't love her. Not that way. And I know, deep within myself, intellectual restraints and all, that picking Isabel over Maria wouldn't make the least bit of difference if I didn't love her. I don't know how I know, I just do.
Now, on to my heart. Ahh, quality time with my more fickle organ. No, I take that back. It doesn't betray me by it's self, it is simply creates conflict by the simple fact that it exists, when my head decides to butt in.
The image of Maria floats through my head again, dancing at the Crashdown, after hours. Isabel made the CDs play with her power, and she, Tess and Maria were dancing. Liz joined them after a while, and they all looked so happy and free. Maria was smiling, and laughing, and her wavy blond ringlets were flying every which-way. She looked like an angel.
Maria DeLuca. Seventeen years old. Mother, Amy DeLuca. Her mom was a teen mother, her father left years after Maria's birth. She's tentative, afraid of being hurt, and I've seen how it makes her feel. It makes me feel doubly awful for deserting her.
I never meant to hurt her, my head keeps repeating. I did what I had to do.
What I had to do. What a crock of shit. I treated her like a piece of crap, throwing her away when I realized we couldn't be together. Hell, I've seen Grease. I've seen it so many times my tape wore out, and I had to buy a new one. When I broke it off with Maria, I acted exactly like Danny Zuko. And it gives me no pleasure whatsoever, even though he was my role model when I was a kid.
It's funny. When I was ten, I saw the movie for the first time. I was living with Hank, and everything was awful. I hated school, I had no parents, I was an alien, out of place. Max and Isabel were the only part of the storm I felt I could identify with, and they helped, but it was still friggin' hard.
So, back to the subject. Ah, yes, Grease.
When I saw Grease, I decided I wanted to be just like Danny, all cool-kid outside, so that he would never get hurt, but so soft inside. Well, I mastered the cool-kid part, but I'm still working on the other. And God knows my inner conflict has caused Maria DeLuca enough of her own.
Maria. God, I love her. But now it's too late. I had my chance, I blew it. Now she'll never listen to me. I know she's always trying to get my attention, it hardly escaped me the other day at the Crashdown. But she doesn't trust me. I think she might want to hook me and then dump me, to make me feel what she does. But what she doesn't realize is that I already do. I'm already just as miserable as she is.
Besides, she wouldn't do that. No matter how mad Maria DeLuca is, she's a kind, caring person, and she wouldn't hurt anybody on purpose. That was unfair of me to even think that. But I know I was right when I said that she'd never trust me. She won't.
******
For the first time in my life, I think, I have allowed myself to open up to myself. To own up to my mistakes, to acknowledge the burden I feel on my shoulders. And it worked well, for the most part. But there's one thing left. And his name is Max Evans.
Otherwise known as my leader, the King of our planet, and just general ruler in every sense of the name. Or title, as the case may be.
Max Evans has been my best friend since I met him in third grade. The moment we learned that we shared the same secret, the bond was instantaneous. I already said that Izzy is like my sister, and if that's true, Max was like a brother to me. We even fought like them, over little things when we were kids, the issues growing more complex as we began to fully understand the consequences of what we were, and what would happen if others knew.
The problems we'd been having came to a head when Max believed and embraced his role as a leader.
Max Evans is a leader. There is no doubt about it. He was born to command people, and he'll be good at it, someday. But with the knowledge that Max will one day rise to the throne as King, comes the knowledge that I must also obey his orders.
I won't. I know me. Isabel will resist too, I know her. But with each little rebellion, our guilt grows heavier, our pain at knowing that a wrong step could cost the lives of millions, our impatience to believe that if we just listen to Max, everything will be fine, is costing us. Costing us our sense of self, our freedom to be who we are.
And Max knows.
I love him. I don't care if it's by blood or by friendship, but Max is my brother. And I will never stop loving him. But that won't keep me from doing things that have a major potential to backfire in my face, won't keep me from pushing him away until he no longer loves me.
The Metallica CD in the background grinds to a halt, and the sudden silence fills my ears. A tap on the door comes only seconds later, probably from someone who was waiting for the music to end, so that I could hear them. I head to the door and open it, prepared to do a lot of angry defense work if it's Max and he's pissed.
The door swings open, and my anger level drops off, though my guard doesn't drop. My angel is standing in the doorway.
"Maria," I say. She looks uncomfortable, and I realize that I am blocking the door for her. I move hastily aside motioning her inside. "Sorry. Come on in."
She walks inside, and my eyes lock on her slender waist, her hips swaying a little below them. The moonlight streaming in the window catches her hair in the spotlight for a second, and it glimmers, as if spun from gold. I am so in love with her that I can hardly breathe.
I make a promise to myself as I follow her into the living room. To her, and to Max, and to Izzy. I will fix things for all of you, someday, I promise. I love you all, in different ways, but I love you, and I will make sure that things turn out okay for you in the end.
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