Everlasting Bond
Disclaimer: Don't sue me.
I don't own Roswell. I wish I
did, but if I did, then I wouldn't be writing this, now would I? No, I didn't think so.
Author's note:
Thanks to everyone who sent me feedback on "Should've, Would've, Could've." This is dedicated to L, who hounded me until
I promised to write more. Again, like
before, I crave feedback like a junkie craves their fix. Reactions, please!
Distribution: Ask
and ye shall receive – just tell me where it's going.
I love her. I love
her more than life itself. And I even
love her more than death.
From the very first time I saw her, I knew Isabel Evans was
the only one for me. The only one that
would love me the same way I love her – totally and completely, no matter who I
was or what I've done. She fought it at
first, sure, but she always knew what was happening. My Isabel's always been a fighter. She just didn't know that she didn't have to fight me. She was just scared, and I can understand
that. I understand everything. I was scared, too. We were so young…but age didn't matter. She was my soulmate, of that I have no doubt. From the very first look, the first touch,
the first kiss – it was inevitable. All
of that destiny stuff was crap, and we both knew it. We belonged together. We
were each other's destiny. Our bond was
stronger than any plan her alien mother might have had for her. Not even death could break our bond. It's everlasting.
I hated dying. Sure,
of course you did, I bet you're thinking.
Death's a real bummer. It kind
of ends stuff - permanently. Who
wouldn't think death was a bad way to end the party? But I didn't hate death for the reason you think. I'm not scared of death; it's just another
experience. Like I told Izzy one night,
after it happened – your heart is still your heart and your soul is still your
soul. You're still the same person;
you're just in a different place.
No, the reason I hated dying was Isabel. I hated leaving her. We never had enough time, her and I. There was so much I needed to tell her, to
show her. She needed me so much, and I
couldn't be there for her. We were just
beginning when it all ended. Or so I
thought.
Our last night together, we went to the prom. Izzy was so beautiful. Of course, she always is, but that night,
she looked amazing. She was wearing
this stunning red dress. She told me
that she chose it for me, that she knew how much I liked her in red. It reminded me of the dress she wore in my
dream, when we danced.
That night was the night she finally accepted it, that we
were inevitable. That we were meant to
be. She wasn't ready to tell me she
loved me yet, but I knew. I always
knew. I could wait, I figured; patience
is a virtue, and I've learned that patience is definitely necessary when
dealing with Isabel Evans. Hey, I love
her, but I see her for who she is, too.
'High maintenance' is a term that applies to her, have no doubt, but I
don't care. I love her as she is, just
as she loves me the way I am. I could
wait for her to deal with her feelings.
I just didn't know then that we wouldn't have decades on this earth to
love each other.
I wish she could've told me those words that night. Not just because I wanted to hear them,
although I won't deny that I did, but also because it would've brought her some
peace. She's told me so many times in
the years since, but I couldn't say the words back to her. I wish she could've told me that night, so I
could've reassured her fears. She's
doubted our love so many times. It
nearly killed me – no pun intended. I
wish I could've gone to her and held her in my arms, kissed all of her doubts
and fears away, told her that I knew she loved me, and that I loved her,
too. That's where the whole 'being
dead' thing really sucks.
What people don't get about my Izzy is that she's so
insecure. Sure, she comes across as
strong, as an Ice Princess who doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything,
but that's not the real Isabel. She
does care, very deeply – probably too much.
She's been hurt, so many times…and I wasn't there to kiss the pain
away. I wish I could've been there to
pick up the pieces, to wipe away her tears, to catch her when she fell. She needed someone to be there for her, in a
way her friends and family just couldn't.
They don't know her the way I do.
They don't know how much she craves love. Instead, so many people just see her as remote, untouchable. They don't understand how scared she gets
sometimes. She just covers up all of
her insecurities and fears with the act.
She's one hell of an actress, my Isabel. Not many people see the truth.
I was one of the lucky few who got to see the real her. She's still more little girl than she is
woman, even after all of these years. I
think part of it has to do with her fear of abandonment.
Abandonment?
Fear? Isabel? Doesn't make sense, right? Wrong.
You think Maria's clingy because of her dad leaving? She's nothing compared to Isabel. I mean, come on. Her birth mother reincarnated her children and then shipped her
and three others off to another planet.
Sure, it was for their safety, but still. That's gonna mess a kid up no matter what. Add to that the fact that they lost two of
their podmates almost from the beginning, and the fact that they're, you know,
aliens living in Roswell, New Mexico – alien capitol of the world – and you've
got the recipe for all kinds of weird complexes.
When they finally got Michael back, as much as Izzy loved
and needed him, he was a guy. It was
tough for her, being the only female alien. And even when she met Tess, it didn't really help her. Tess was too alien to help Izzy; after all,
the poor girl was raised by Nasedo, of all people. I think Tess has even more complexes than Isabel. And we won't even start on Tess' obsessions
– I could talk for an eternity and not finish listing them all. At least Isabel got two normal parents out
of the deal.
Mix into the equation all of that destiny garbage that was
tossed at them sophomore year. Imagine,
if you will, seeing your birth mother for the first time in your life and
having her tell you that you're supposed to marry the man you always thought of
as a second brother - incest, anyone?
And that you have no free will to speak of. Not only that, but you're also supposed to save the world from
evil aliens, who might just drop in at any time and kill everyone you
know. Even better, no one really knows
what they look like. You're just
supposed to recognize them from the evil within, or some other such bull. Great going, Mom. Good plan.
Then, when the Skins did pop up, Isabel gets tossed another
couple of sucker punches. According to
one of the Skins, she's Vilandra, a girl whose betrayal of her family led to
their deaths and the whole war-thing going on.
Not the best birthday present anyone ever came up with. And to top it all off, the evil alien
lover/enemy wants her back, and will do just about anything to get her. Next time they decide to give her a little
'birthday present,' I hope the universe decides on a toaster.
And people wonder why she acts like an Ice Princess? Yeah, I'd say Isabel Evans deserves to have
a couple of complexes. I'm surprised
she gets up in the morning at all.
Hell, if it was me, they'd probably have to lock me up in the loony
bin. I'd be lucky if I took my thumb
out of my mouth long enough to eat, let alone save the world.
The real Isabel – the one only I get to see all the time –
is sweet and loving. She gets hurt, far
too easily. And my dying certainly
didn't help her with her abandonment issues, although we both know I never
really left her. I was always there,
watching, protecting, loving her and our kids.
Our daughters. Holly
and Sarah. Maybe it's the dad in me
talking, but I can honestly say I've never seen two more beautiful,
intelligent, witty young women. Isabel
did well with them. It wasn't easy,
having them alone. I tried to be there
for her, I swear I did. I came to all
three of them in dreams – or what they thought were dreams. It was the only way I could talk to them, be
with them. After all, a dead person
can't exactly pick up a phone. There's
no area code, for one thing, and I'd hate to see the long distance bill. Anyway, I did the best I could. I gave her a lifetime worth of memories of
us. We didn't get to live together, the
way it should've been, but she did get that, at least.
I am so grateful she had the girls. They are the product of what was, easily,
the best night of my life. Isabel
couldn't tell me she loved me yet, but she showed me. With every kiss, with every caress, I knew what she couldn't
bring herself to say. I was afraid, at
first, that I was pushing her too far, too fast. But when she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and smiled
at me like I was the only man in the universe, I didn't have any other
choice. We were meant to be, and she
finally knew it, too.
The first time I ever saw her, my heart skipped a beat and a
jolt ran through me. She was the most
beautiful girl I'd ever seen, sure, but it wasn't just that. I knew her.
I could see who and what she was.
I like to think our souls recognized each other. I looked into her eyes, and I fell in love
with her. What I felt for her, even
then, wasn't a crush. It wasn't puppy
love, and it wasn't even first love.
That's fickle. No, it was the real
thing. The deep, abiding,
forever-and-a-day kind of love. Pretty
heavy stuff for a ten-year-old kid.
But it wasn't just me who fell in love, that sunny September
morning so long ago. She did, too. After we made love, during our last night
together on earth, I held her close to me.
Her head was pillowed on my chest, and her beautiful golden hair fell
around us like a waterfall. Everything
was silent, so quiet that I could hear all of her soft breaths. I could hear our hearts beating together, as
one. I've never felt such peace, like
everything was right in the world. I
thought she was asleep until she looked up at me and gave me that beautiful
smile. Not the 1,000-kilowatt, patented
Isabel Evans-smile that she gives everyone else. No, she gave me this gentle little half-smile that only I get to
see. It's perfect, just like she
is.
I could see the stars reflecting in her eyes when she smiled
at me. I could see all of the love in
the universe in her face. Then she
kissed me softly, and we connected. She
let me see her soul.
That type of connection – it doesn't happen often. It's intense. And it doesn't happen for everyone, whether they're with aliens
or not. That's how I knew that what we
had was real. I recognized her soul
because it was the other part of mine.
We fit. We complete each
other. We understand each other. We belong to each other.
My girls – Maria and Liz – they didn't understand Isabel and
me, not at first. They couldn't see the
real Isabel, like I could; they just saw the Ice Princess. They said I was being sucked into the dark
side, that being in love with an alien could only bring me pain. That's not true. Being in love with her only brought her pain, in the end. I might've been the one who died, but she
was the one who had to go on. It's
hard, being the one left behind – I, more than anyone else, should know
that. It was her heart that was broken
and lost, not mine, and yet she had to will it to keep beating. She had to keep going on, for herself, for
our friends, for our daughters. I don't
know if I could've done it – gone on without her. I don't think I'm that brave.
I wanted her to live her life and be happy, sure. She deserves that, and if she could be happy
with another man, then so be it. Who am
I to object? I'm just the dead
soulmate, right? But the problem is
that she wasn't happy, not really, just as I could never be truly happy with
anyone else except her. The connection
we share…it's not something that most people could understand. Really, it's not something they would want
to understand.
Sure, our bond connects us, and can even transcend death,
but our separation makes it impossible for either one of us to move on. We're still stuck at the same place we were
when I died. It's like we're in
quicksand. We can't move forward, and
can't go back. That's okay for me, I'm
dead; it's kind of a natural state to be in.
But my Izzy deserves better than that.
She deserves to be with a man on the same physical plane as she is. A man who can love her and be with her like
I wanted to love and be with her. But
she can't let anyone else in. Her fear
of abandonment rears its ugly head.
She's scared that if she loves someone enough to let him see her, the
way I see her, they'll leave her, too.
So I've watched Izzy struggle to regain her balance over the
years. I watched Maria and Liz take her
under their wing, like I knew they would, and help shield her from the hurts of
the world as best they could. I watched
her raise our daughters to be beautiful, confident women. I watched her go from man to man, always
searching for something none of them could give her. I watched her family grow.
Five little girls, all as beautiful as their mother. I wish I could've been the father of all of
them.
She's been with Kyle for nearly a decade. I should be jealous, but I'm not. I understand. Besides, he's good for her.
She has that quasi-normal existence she's always craved, including a
quasi-normal family. And Kyle's my
friend. I trust him with Izzy and our
kids. That's probably the highest
honour a dead guy could give anyone who gets to sleep with the woman he
loves. I think he knows if he doesn't
treat her right, I'll haunt him. I know
she doesn't love him, at least not the same way she loved me, and he knows it,
too. She loves him the same way I love
Maria and Liz, the love between two friends.
He loves her more than that, and they both know it, but it doesn't
change anything. But she makes him
happy, and he chases away some of her demons, so they're both content.
Content isn't a word anyone should use to describe Isabel's
life. Fiery, passionate, electrifying –
that's how it should've been. I blame
myself for that, for not being there with her to take all the hurt away. Every tear I've seen fall from her beautiful
eyes because of me has been like drops of acid on my soul. No one should make Isabel Evans cry, least
of all the man that claims to love her more than anything on that world or the
next.
That bastard, Bill, the guy that liked to use her as a
punching bag, lived to rue the day he ever met her. No one gets to hurt the woman I love. Max got him to sign away paternity for Phoebe; Kyle got to beat
him up; Michael got the IRS after him.
Then, after all that, I got my turn.
Ever experience a good haunting?
Slamming doors, creaking floors, messages written in blood on
mirrors? The whole nine yards. Made the jerk spend six years in an
asylum. I may be dead, sure, but that
won't stop me from protecting my family.
Few people understand what my Izzy and I shared. Not even our friends, not really. They got to share their lives with the
person they loved. How could they
understand? Love like mine and Izzy's -
it wasn't exactly commonplace. Max and
Liz, Maria and Michael…they were lucky enough to be granted that love. Isabel and I were lucky, too. We just didn't have enough time.
On the outside, we seem so different, from two worlds -
literally. The alien and the human, the
homecoming queen and the class clown.
Could we be any more different?
But none of that really matters.
When Liz and Maria asked me how I could stand her, the girl that treated
me like dirt, they didn't understand that not being with her simply wasn't an
option. She only pushed me away because
she was terrified of what I represented.
But she knew. She knew that she
was the part of me that I was missing, just like I was the part of her that she
was missing.
When I went to Sweden, it was the first time I understood
just how much I needed her in my life.
Isn't that ironic? That being
away from her brought her closer to me?
But I knew I couldn't just pop back into her life and announce that I
wanted to spend forever with her. She
would've thought I was a few bricks shy, you know? Plus, she was already dealing with so much. I was honestly afraid that she just couldn't
handle it all. I knew I had to give her
the space to find her own path. I knew
she would come back to me, eventually.
And she did. I could
feel it, see it, when we connected. The
sun was coming up when I finally brought her home, that last morning, but I
didn't want to leave her. I wanted to
spend forever in her arms. I wish I had
stayed longer, given her a few more good memories to hang on to. Over the years, I got to see her, all the time. I could touch her, even, although she was
only subconsciously aware I was doing it.
Kind of like the feeling you get sometimes that people describe as
someone walking over your grave. It
didn't matter, though, that she didn't really know it was me…although her heart
recognized me, even when her mind couldn't.
I promised to love and protect her that last night, and I will do it in
whatever way is necessary. I was determined
to be her guardian angel, and even if I couldn't make everything better for
her, I could still be with her. Death
didn't matter to us.
Everyone up here thought I was crazy, of course. You can't just transcend the barriers
between worlds on a whim, not even for love.
But death couldn't break our connection, like it usually does. Death couldn't kill our love. She always knew, always felt me near. Our love made anything possible. When we connected that night, we were
joined, permanently. We became one
person in two separate bodies. We never
really un-connected, if that makes any sense.
We were joined that night, when we made love in the desert, under the
stars. In my heart, I married her that
night.
I wish I could've given her the wedding day every woman
deserves. I would've loved to watch her
walk down the aisle to me, wearing a beautiful white dress and carrying a
bouquet of flowers. I wish I could've
taken her far away, to a tropical island somewhere for our honeymoon. I would've made all her dreams come true, if
I'd had the chance. I wish I could've
held her hand when she was bringing our babies into the world. I would've kissed her and held her and told
her how proud I was of her. I think she
knows. I hope she knows. There was so much we didn't get to do. I wish we had been given the time.
As a couple, we're really very lucky. That sounds odd, doesn't it? I mean, I'm a ghost and she's barely
breathing because I'm not there. And
even when we were together, it was rocky, to say the least, and far, far too
short. But in a way, we are lucky. Most people don't ever get to experience a
love like ours. The time we had
should've been longer, but at least we got something. We got each other. Anyone
who ever experiences half of what we have is lucky. I'm just sorry that she was the one left behind to pick up the
pieces.
I wish I could take away her pain. But pain is a part of loving, and Izzy wouldn't give that up for
anything. I know, because I wouldn't,
either. I watched her, night after
night, hold my pillow and cry herself to sleep. I've watched her scream at the sky, curse the fates that took her
away from me. I've even watched her
destroy rooms, needing to lash out at something in a world she couldn't
understand. I mean, what kind of a
world would allow something like this to happen? Separate two people who were meant to be? She doesn't know, but I do. There are some benefits to being dead, you
know, and knowledge is one of them.
Isabel and I…we are meant to be, just not on that
world. Our time together was short; it
was our job to use it wisely. We did,
and I have no regrets, although I'm sure if you asked her, she would list off
quite a few. My role in her life was
important, but it wasn't meant to last long.
I helped to shape the woman she became, and I must confess – I might've
loved the girl, but I suspect that I worship the woman.
No, Isabel's purpose is to be a mother. The destiny her mother told them about
wasn't for them. It was too late for
that; they had already found loves and lives of their own. Instead, the destiny was meant for their
children, the hope of two worlds. And
once her job is done, she'll come to me, and we'll finally be together, for
eternity.
Our time apart – it will end soon. I told her once, in a dream, that I would be waiting for
her. One day, when she had finished the
job she was sent to earth to do, we would be together again. That day has finally come, after twenty-five
long years.
Our daughter, our hope for the future, our sweet little
Sarah, got married yesterday. She
doesn't know it, and thinks that just Kyle walked her down the aisle. But my Isabel and I know differently. I was there, too, holding my baby girl's
other hand, whispering how beautiful she was in her ear, singing "American Pie"
to her when she was nervous, just like I did when she was a baby. She's started the destiny she was born to
fulfill. Unlike their parents, though,
the next generation will want their destinies.
They will embrace them, welcome them, even. I've made sure of that.
Isabel's destiny is finally complete. Soon, our children will have two guardian
angels watching over them, guiding them, protecting them from harm. Isabel will soon be in my arms again.
They will miss her, and she will miss them, but I know she's
finally happy. Our separation is
over. Our lives are about to begin.
