Deal
by
Disclaimer: I disclaim. I don't own anything. Melinda Metz and Jason Katims own all, the WB, Fox, maybe even UPN own some portion. I'm not them!
Author's Note: I think that Isabel didn't really deal with Alex's death in the show. So, what better time to handle it than... summer?
Author's Note 2: Pertaining to this chapter, sorry it's so short. There'll be more, I promise.
Summary: It's summer 2001, and though Alex was killed weeks ago, Isabel Evans hasn't had the time to process and deal with her grief. What will her summer be like?
Rating: By chapter.
Chapter One--G
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I never really thought about it before, but I still see Alex. In my dreams, okay, I'm sure plenty of people see their departed friends in their dreams, but I see him when I'm conscious, too. I didn't think about it, but that's not normal. Maybe this tragedy pushed me off the deep end, maybe I've just had too much to deal with all my life, and it caught up to me.
I just want to curl up in bed and fall asleep, leave it all for tomorrow, but I can't. Right now, I know that, with or without my permission, the floodgates have opened, and the first emotion that comes spilling out is anger and denial. I want to sit up and scream, yell at the world until they bring my love back to me.
At least long enough for me to tell him that I love him, to his face.
And then, suddenly, I remember something Max once told me. Pertaining to something else, of course, but equally relevant here. My brother, wise King that he is, said, "Deal with it, Iz. It won't go away. So just, short of hurting anyone, do what you have to do, and don't worry about it."
So, I sit up in bed and scream. I'm not naturally a loud person, and I don't speak more than I have to a lot of times, but my lungs are fine, and tonight, I've decided to take them for a test drive. I gather my breath, preparing to unleash my anger upon the world. This horrid world that spends so much time playing with my feelings.
"Nooooo!" I shriek, letting the anger and shock and astonishment and denial I never allowed myself to truly feel when he died wash over me. "No, not Alex, not Alex, not Alex!"
The house is awake now, though I doubt many of them were asleep. Max, I know, was no doubt pondering deep and meaningful questions of life, like, Liz or Tess? Tess or Liz? And it's hardly late enough for my parents to be asleep.
There's a pounding of feet in the hallway, but I ignore it. "Not Alex! You can have me, anybody you want, but not Alex!" I don't even care that I'm telling whoever it is I'm talking to that they can kill another person, as long as I can have Alex back.
But he wouldn't have wanted that, so I resolve not to say it again.
My mother and father rush in the door, and my mother runs to my side, looking startled and hurt, probably for me. I make no acknowledgment of either of their presences.
"No! No, no, no, no, no, nooooooo!" I shout, pounding at my bed, my fists lighting up a little from my barely contained and rather unearthly powers.
I look towards the doorway, and feel it as Max creates a barrier against the use of my powers, not wanting me to reveal myself unwittingly to our parents. I ignore him, although I'm sure I'll thank him later.
My parents are both at my sides now, my mother asking what's wrong, and my father pleading with me to calm down, then shouting when I don't obey. But I can't stop screaming, yelling at, pleading with, and feeling pure hatred for whatever mystical forces took Alex Whitman out of my life years too early.
"No! God, not Alex! I love him, I love him! Don't take him away!"
Max is the only calm one remaining, standing in the doorway, a strange expression on his face, just watching. Saying that I loved Alex shut up Mom and Dad for a moment, but not for nearly long enough.
I wish they would just go away. They're not part of this, and I feel almost like I'm betraying Alex by having them present while I plead for his life.
"Iz? Honey, calm down, please," My mother is beseeching me.
"Isabel. Stop this screaming, now!" That's my father.
Isabel. This doesn't help. That's Max, unnaturally calm-sounding, inside my head, speaking to me like he used to when we'd just gotten out of the pods. I used to love it. Now, I feel like my head is being invaded, and I angrily block him out, using the residual powers that I have left under his control.
I'm almost spent now, I know, my throat is hoarse, and I won't be able to scream much longer. But I'm still furious, more angry than I've ever known myself to be, and so I shriek, just releasing my anger at the world, not bothering to try to tell it how I feel any longer. After all, it isn't going to listen, is it?
"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"
I guess Max has put up another barrier, too, because no one has called us, asked what all the screaming is about. I'll have to thank him later, doing that much with our powers drains even him, but right now, no more sound comes from my lips, and I know I look like a zombie.
I'm looking through everything in front of my eyes, even my mother's hand, and not reacting in any way, to anybody or anything for a long couple of moments. At first they're merely silent, glad, I guess that, my screaming fit is over. But then, they get worried.
"Iz? Isabel?" My mother questions.
"Maybe we should take her to the hospital," My father says worriedly, looking truly pale for what I think is the first time since I've known him.
That unconsciously-made threat snaps me out of it, and I collapse on the bed, curling myself into a fetal position, tucking my knees as tight as they will go under my chin and not caring that I'm wearing hardly anything and neither my dad or brother has seen me dressed in this little since puberty hit about seven years ago.
Tears run down my cheeks, tears that aren't quite connected with Alex's death, yet, anyway, more connected just to the simple fact that my body is overrun with emotions, and doesn't know what to do with them anymore. "Leave me, please," I whisper, and my mother looks at me worriedly.
"Isabel, honey, are you sure? I'm not sure it's a good idea, to let you be alone after that..."
I just want them gone, so I make the easiest compromise. "Max can stay." He'll bother me less than their incessant talking and worrying.
My parents look a little hurt, rightly so, I suppose, but mostly just worried as they ease themselves out of the room, planting kisses on my forehead before they leave.
All of a sudden, I ache for touch from another being who loves me, so I motion Max near. But as soon as his hands touch my skin, I shiver and push him away, realizing abruptly that it's only Alex's hands, Alex's skin that I want on mine. I cry harder.
Max isn't hurt, he understands, and he knows why I feel the way I do. I'd know if he was upset, we're too close for things like that to slip.
He walks into the corner of the room, leans into it, and closes his eyes. Securing himself with a few well-placed alien mental tie-downs, he can sleep in that position, which, I'm sure, is more comfortable than our hard-wood floor.
"Max," I whisper without moving, and he looks at me.
"Yeah?"
"Go, please?"
He hesitates, but I say nothing more. I'm too tired, to drained, too spent to continue. I'm going to fall asleep either way. I'd rather he be gone, but if he wants to stay, there's nothing I can do about it. I close my eyes, and hear a moment later, the soft click of my door being closed.
The blackness envelops me, and I don't fight it. But I do seek to direct it, to take me to that Crashdown where I can see Alex, if only again in my dreams. But I fear I might be too tired for even that.
I can feel my grasp tightening, weak as it is. I'm pulling my dream of choice closer and closer, I'm almost there... almost there...
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