Staring Eyes

by

Princess McPhee

Disclaimer: Not mine. UPN, WB, Jason Katims, all have some claim. I don't.

Author's Note: This is the third such fanfic in this vein, fifth if you include poetry. I'm still trying to deal with Alex's death and Tess's betrayal, because I was a loyal Stargazer and Rebel. (Those damn producers really messed me up!)

Summary: Summer post- S2. Isabel deals... but doesn't, really.

Rating: R

Chapter Three-Whispers

Isabel

The only time I feel anything, is in my dreams, and usually I wish I didn't. But tonight, I'm grateful for the bursts of emotion that come with the actions in my dream world. I'm grateful tonight because Alex visited.

Alex visits me once in a while, maybe twice a week, and when he does, it both aches more than any physical pain ever could, and fills the void within me deep enough so that it's overflowing. I could never make any sense of my emotions with Alex around. I guess I don't do any better in the dream world.

He comes tonight in a dream replica of my own room. Usually, the scene is an empty Crashdown, but when my psyche feels like creating a more intimate environment, we've occasionally ended up here, before. He's sitting on the bed, holding me, and I don't think I've felt this safe in months.

I know it's a dream. It will end, probably with my mother awakening me, but I've learned to savor them while I can. Alex is gone, and is never going to come back, so if a few stolen moments of twisted reality are all that I can steal, I make do.

"Alex," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

He doesn't respond, just leans down and kisses the top of my head. He strokes my long blond hair, something he's always done in the past when he's calm. Right now, I can see that he is at peace, content to merely hold me in his arms. For a few long moments, I am too, as I luxuriate in the feel of his body against mine.

Then, it's not enough anymore, and I turn a little, pulling his head down to mine. Kissing him softly, I draw back long enough to think for a moment.

In the real world, each kiss we shared was different. There was a new feeling to every time our lips met. In this dream world, the same is true, though I know my mind makes up the sensations, since Alex isn't even really here.

His hands travel down my body, resting his hands just under the material at the back of my shirt. His thumb caresses the soft skin on the small of my back, and I smile into his mouth. I can remember Alex telling me more than once that my clean, soft skin was his idea of pure heaven.

I wish he were really here, so that he could really feel my skin.

He kisses me more passionately, and I marvel at the inventiveness of the mind. We've never made out this fervently in the past, so the creation of the very real-feeling sensations are completely up to my rather naive head. But then his tongue does a little trick with mine, and I forget completely that I was thinking about anything.

He pulls back, panting a little. "I love you, Isabel," He tells me with emotion shining in his eyes.

My own brown eyes tear up a little as I respond to his outpouring of love. "I love you, Alex."

I'm not sure what we'll do tonight. Somehow, it seems wrong, or maybe impossible or just taboo to sleep with someone in a dream. Especially when that person is dead. But I can see the lust in his eyes, and feel it in my own. I stare into his eyes for reassurance, and what I see calms me.

Alex's eyes speak to me. They always have. I never have to ask him what he's thinking, I can just see it. He knows it too, and when he was alive, he used to make use of it, used to search for my gaze when he wanted to tell me something. And now, I can see a message clearly reflected in his bright eyes:

Don't worry, Isabel. They say. You control this, we'll stop wherever you're not comfortable, I promise.

He smiles at me, and pulls me back against him once again. I can't say I really fought it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, I awaken groggily, stretching a little. Mom let me sleep in again, she says because there wouldn't be anything for me to do if I did get up. Max tells me that she doesn't get me up, because she can't bear to watch me be that unresponsive. I'm not sure if he's telling the truth.

That alone, bothers me more than all our other relationship problems. The fact that I can no longer tell if my brother is lying is a devastating blow, and it scares me sometimes. Actually, most of the time. I'm almost glad that this trance came upon me, because when I can feel nothing, I feel none of the confusion and pain and anger and care that my brother's mere presence wracks upon me on a daily basis.

But today, I feel something. Not terribly much, but an inkling that feeling is coming back to my brain, like your foot just barely starting to tingle as it awakens after you've sat on it for an hour. I try to figure out what's going on in my head, but draw a blank.

Sitting up, I feel a soreness between my legs, and a tiny flight of despair and longing washes over me. I guess you've figured out that I overcame my conceptions about dream-sex, but I'm surprised to find a physical sensation in the waking world.

Assuming it's a psychological response, I swing my legs to the side of the bed and reach for my clothing. I pull a shirt over my head, and my panties off my legs, ready to replace them with new underwear.

Noticing the blood on them, I do a quick mental calculation. No, that's not it, the date's way, way off. Plus, it's almost dry, and much too small an amount.

Something is itching at me, but I deny it, refusing to believe it's possible. Shaking my head in refusal, I finish dressing, wincing as I am forced to lift each leg into my pants. Ordinary jeans don't look like they'll work today, and I am forced into stretch leggings.

All morning, which I spend in front of the television, my mind churns a million miles per hour. I know that some semblance of feeling has been restored to me, because curiosity is an emotion, and also because I actually watch the television, no matter how neutrally I may do so.

I meet my mother's eyes for a second, and she looks ecstatic, ready to tell the neighborhood, but then they go blank again, and though she looks terribly hurt, I just don't care.

But something inside me is battling this mysterious neutrality. The psychologist told my parents that this was likely brought on by extreme stress, and that when I had dealt with some of the issues, and was able to cope with the rest, it would likely go away on it's own.

If only she knew how much stress she was talking about.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, which is surprising to me, too. Usually, these days, every detail of the day is marked in my mind, fixed on my memory. With nothing to think about really going on in my head, I guess my mind concentrates on the physical things. But not today. Now, it's one big blur.

Kyle comes over partway through the day, and talks to me while we watch television. I don't reply, but when my mother leaves the room, I lie down, and put my head on his lap. His eyes light up like a Christmas tree, and for a minute, I worry about encouraging his unrealistic hopes, but then I don't think about it again.

I know I'm using him. And it's not right, and I hate it when I actually think about it, but most of the time I don't. It feels so good just to lay myself in his arms, close my eyes, and pretend, even for a minute, that he's Alex. It's unfair, but I can't help it. I miss Alex so much.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, that dream is eating at me again. I just can't seem to make it go away. And the physical that accompanied the dream really made it bother me. The pain went away gradually, as any pain does, not suddenly, like a psychologically induced pain. The crusty blood fell off, and walking up and down the stairs got easier.

It's been a week, and I've dreamed of Alex again, but never as vividly as that one night. The Alex in my mind more recently is a hollow persona that I would never dream of losing my virginity to. The Alex I lost it to, was the full-bodied, completely souled person that I knew in the real world. The only way that I can describe it is... he was much more real than the ones I dream up.

I've seen this personification of Alex once before. The night after he died, I dreamed about him, and he told me that he loved me, and he wouldn't want to be in the dreams in my head. That way my Alex. That was my boyfriend.

The idea that Alex may be alive has been weighing on my mind. The foggy, emotionless state in which I've been existing is fading, and I'm powerless to stop it. Sometimes I miss it, but mostly I want it to be gone, so that I can figure out what really happened to Alex.

I can't control it, though. When it takes me into its grasp, I'm powerless.

Kyle is the only person who still sits with me and spends time with me. Max has spent very little time at the house lately, and Maria and Liz haven't visited. Even my own parents only spend time with me occasionally. But I know that Kyle has noticed something. He's been watching me much more carefully, lately, and I think he sees something, something that says I'm coming out of it.

I don't care.

I said I wanted to stay this way forever, where there was no pain over Alex's death, Tess's betrayal, but I don't. It was a nice retreat, but I want to feel again. I want to live. And as I was in that catatonic state, I'm nothing more than a semi-aware vegetable.

A lot like a robot.

My mother comes in to turn off the light, like she always does, because although I get myself ready for bed, for some reason, I always leave the light on. Tonight, I have enough control that I could turn it off, but I don't want to alert her that way. I want to tell her.

She kisses my forehead, and I focus my eyes on her blue ones. She looks hopeful, but scared of expecting too much, and continues tucking me in, and re-arranging the things that I moved out of place today. She's about to leave, before I speak.

"I love you, Mom."

At first, I don't think she heard me. I spoke whisper-soft, but I know loudly enough that she understood. I watch her as she stops what she's doing, and turns to look at me. I meet her eyes, and she rushes to my side, tears in her own eyes.

She calls excitedly for my father and Max, her gaze never leaving mine. She kisses my cheeks, and I offer her a small smile. She hugs me, and just holds me tight for a long moment.

I really missed this.

And what's scarier than that...

I didn't realize that I missed it, until just now.

[Introduction] [Silence] [Clouds] [Whispers]

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