Title: To Protect Her
Author: Gaudicia
E-mail: gaudy9@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I own zip.
Distribution: Ask first.
Rating: R for violence.
Summary: Not saying it will ruin it. Just dark angst.
Author's note: I want to thank Nikki for correcting this. And Lee and
Steffi.
To Protect Her
They were so happy, newly weds, just a year into their marriage. There hadn't been evil aliens or FBI Agents after them. He was given the chance to make her happy and he had done it. He made sure she always had a smile on her face and stars in her eyes. They were opposites; no one would have expected them to end up together, to even tie the knot. But they just complimented one another, making the perfect eccentric couple. They never did things the ordinary way--even their wedding vows had been different.
He promised to love, cherish, and protect her, and instead of promising till death do us apart, he promised beyond death. That death wouldn't be an obstacle.
He hadn't stopped making promises there. He made a few promises to himself. He promised he wouldn't screw up, that he would uphold each of his promises, and he did. He loved her. He would do anything for her. He would always protect her no matter what he had to do or how.
He remembered her laughter had been rich, like angel carols always lifting up his mood. Now the sound haunted him, like a used up record. Her eyes had been full of love and trust, now every time he closed his eyes they were cold and accusing. Her body always brought him warmth. Now without her he was cold. As a poor substitute for her skin he had satin sheets draped over his body.
He was protecting her, keeping his promise. He justified looking down at his hands. He always expected to see blood, and after a moment he remembered there hadn't been any.
They'd been happy, until Max returned. He never told her of Max's return, or how he told him Isabel was dead or how Max took his last breath in his arms, and his last words had been, "They're coming."
Since that day he felt them creeping closer and closer. Max's terrified whisper repeating itself over and over again in his mind, making his blood cold. For a brief moment his connection to Max lasted, he saw and felt everything Max had. He saw how their people had joined Khivar's side. After that, he hadn't been able to get a decent amount of sleep, plagued by the fears and memories Max planted inside of him.
He would wake up shivering and sweating. She would wrap her arms around him and try to sooth his fears. When she asked about his nightmares, he would stay silent and she never pressed for an answer. She never complained. She never pressured him, yet even though she didn't understand his pain, she had felt it. Not once did she leave him to suffer alone.
A short time later he noticed he was already breaking his vows. He wasn't protecting her. She was already hurting. He had already begun to screw up. What she didn't know and he never told her was that with each nightmare of Max's life, a part of his sanity left him.
He recalled he stopped sleeping. He would stand by the window and look out. He would wonder where they were and a part of him expected to see them, to spot them out side his window. She would wake, walk over to him, wrap her arms around him, and try to convince him to go back to bed. It never worked, her smile never faltered, but the light in her eyes dimmed. He hadn't seen it. Not until that faithful day he had been sitting in the living room, staring into nothingness.
He heard the main door's knob rattle for a second, and then stop for five full minutes, until finally she walked in. She hadn't noticed him, but he had noticed her. He didn't move from his spot on the chair, he just moved his eyes. He saw her sagged shoulders, he heard her sniff, and watched her lean against the door with her eyes closed, trying to regain her composure. When she saw him she gasped, straightened her shoulders and plastered a big smile across her face.
That's when he knew he had completely failed to hold up his vows. She was even afraid to face what awaited her in her home. He wasn't making her happy anymore.
He stood up and hugged her. She gasped and returned his hugged, almost squeezing the life out of him. He rubbed her back and closed his eyes. He ignored the tears that fell on his shoulder. And for that moment she was happy again, until the night came and she tried to lure him to bed again.
It was a night like any other, except this time he did see something when he was looking at the stars and panic gripped his heart. They were there. They finally reached Earth. He turned to his sleeping wife. She looked so peaceful, no trace of her unhappiness or the new strain she had been carrying.
He was going to protect her. He would at least keep that promise. He wouldn't see her like he saw Max or how Max showed him Isabel had been. Empty, cold, and.insane. His mind was made up. He wouldn't allow her to suffer.
As he came back to reality, he scratched his itching hands. He was scratching so hard that they started to bleed. A small-satisfied smile took over his face. Now his hands were right.
A week passed by, he lost his job, and nothing she did brought him out of his mood. And he knew that was the faithful day where he would finally be able to protect her. Shield her from pain. It was like she knew because when she came into the house she happily slammed the door. He could see she was happy almost giddy.
She jumped into his arms. Not letting him slip out of her embrace. "You aren't getting away," she stated with a smile on her face. He let himself be dragged to their bedroom.
Where she carefully pulled him onto the bed. "I love you and we're going to celebrate. We're going to make love, Michael. I won't take no for an answer."
She straddled his waist and for that brief moment he was the old Michael. The Michael that made her smile.
She snuggled next to him, spent by their activities, and she looked up to him. "Why are you crying, Michael?" She lifted her hand to brush away his tears. "We're supposed to be happy-" She didn't get to finish.
"I'm sorry, Liz, but I'm supposed to protect you. I'm doing this to protect you," he whispered, tears still glistering down his cheeks as his hands wrapped themselves around her neck.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she fought for air, but he was so heavy, and his hands were squeezing so hard.
He kept saying he was sorry, like a mantra and a prayer for forgiveness. She met his eyes and she knew he was indeed sorry. She was dizzy from the lack of oxygen, she put her hands over his trying to pry his hands lose. Tears were freely streaming down her face, and instead of taking a last breath she whispered two words. "The baby."
He not only killed his wife, he killed his child with is bare hands. The blood of his family was on his hand, yet blood hadn't been spilled.
He snuggled closer to Liz's lifeless body and wrapped his arm around her waist. "I did it to protect you. I just wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to end up like them. We're powerless against the enemy, Liz. You're better off this way. I love you so much." He felt her body turning cold and he wrapped the sheets around them. "I don't want you to be cold," he whispered.
They ripped him away from her body and with a triumphant smiled he stated, "You won't be able to harm her now. She's safe."
Michael kept scratching his hands. He could still feel how warm her neck had been and how it had turned cold. He looked up when he heard the bar door opening.
The woman looked like an angel dressed all in white. "Michael, this is the third time this week you drew blood scratching."
He looked at his hands as if they were alien artifacts. "They are supposed to be like this."
She gently took his hands and started to clean them.
"They're coming. You know. We won't be able to stop them."
The nurse gave him a sad smile. He had been given the insanity plea and had been inside the asylum for five years and every day he told the same story. "Who's coming?" she asked, following his lead.
"Khivar. The Skins. But he won't get her. She's safe now."
THE END.
To Protect Her
They were so happy, newly weds, just a year into their marriage. There hadn't been evil aliens or FBI Agents after them. He was given the chance to make her happy and he had done it. He made sure she always had a smile on her face and stars in her eyes. They were opposites; no one would have expected them to end up together, to even tie the knot. But they just complimented one another, making the perfect eccentric couple. They never did things the ordinary way--even their wedding vows had been different.
He promised to love, cherish, and protect her, and instead of promising till death do us apart, he promised beyond death. That death wouldn't be an obstacle.
He hadn't stopped making promises there. He made a few promises to himself. He promised he wouldn't screw up, that he would uphold each of his promises, and he did. He loved her. He would do anything for her. He would always protect her no matter what he had to do or how.
He remembered her laughter had been rich, like angel carols always lifting up his mood. Now the sound haunted him, like a used up record. Her eyes had been full of love and trust, now every time he closed his eyes they were cold and accusing. Her body always brought him warmth. Now without her he was cold. As a poor substitute for her skin he had satin sheets draped over his body.
He was protecting her, keeping his promise. He justified looking down at his hands. He always expected to see blood, and after a moment he remembered there hadn't been any.
They'd been happy, until Max returned. He never told her of Max's return, or how he told him Isabel was dead or how Max took his last breath in his arms, and his last words had been, "They're coming."
Since that day he felt them creeping closer and closer. Max's terrified whisper repeating itself over and over again in his mind, making his blood cold. For a brief moment his connection to Max lasted, he saw and felt everything Max had. He saw how their people had joined Khivar's side. After that, he hadn't been able to get a decent amount of sleep, plagued by the fears and memories Max planted inside of him.
He would wake up shivering and sweating. She would wrap her arms around him and try to sooth his fears. When she asked about his nightmares, he would stay silent and she never pressed for an answer. She never complained. She never pressured him, yet even though she didn't understand his pain, she had felt it. Not once did she leave him to suffer alone.
A short time later he noticed he was already breaking his vows. He wasn't protecting her. She was already hurting. He had already begun to screw up. What she didn't know and he never told her was that with each nightmare of Max's life, a part of his sanity left him.
He recalled he stopped sleeping. He would stand by the window and look out. He would wonder where they were and a part of him expected to see them, to spot them out side his window. She would wake, walk over to him, wrap her arms around him, and try to convince him to go back to bed. It never worked, her smile never faltered, but the light in her eyes dimmed. He hadn't seen it. Not until that faithful day he had been sitting in the living room, staring into nothingness.
He heard the main door's knob rattle for a second, and then stop for five full minutes, until finally she walked in. She hadn't noticed him, but he had noticed her. He didn't move from his spot on the chair, he just moved his eyes. He saw her sagged shoulders, he heard her sniff, and watched her lean against the door with her eyes closed, trying to regain her composure. When she saw him she gasped, straightened her shoulders and plastered a big smile across her face.
That's when he knew he had completely failed to hold up his vows. She was even afraid to face what awaited her in her home. He wasn't making her happy anymore.
He stood up and hugged her. She gasped and returned his hugged, almost squeezing the life out of him. He rubbed her back and closed his eyes. He ignored the tears that fell on his shoulder. And for that moment she was happy again, until the night came and she tried to lure him to bed again.
It was a night like any other, except this time he did see something when he was looking at the stars and panic gripped his heart. They were there. They finally reached Earth. He turned to his sleeping wife. She looked so peaceful, no trace of her unhappiness or the new strain she had been carrying.
He was going to protect her. He would at least keep that promise. He wouldn't see her like he saw Max or how Max showed him Isabel had been. Empty, cold, and.insane. His mind was made up. He wouldn't allow her to suffer.
As he came back to reality, he scratched his itching hands. He was scratching so hard that they started to bleed. A small-satisfied smile took over his face. Now his hands were right.
A week passed by, he lost his job, and nothing she did brought him out of his mood. And he knew that was the faithful day where he would finally be able to protect her. Shield her from pain. It was like she knew because when she came into the house she happily slammed the door. He could see she was happy almost giddy.
She jumped into his arms. Not letting him slip out of her embrace. "You aren't getting away," she stated with a smile on her face. He let himself be dragged to their bedroom.
Where she carefully pulled him onto the bed. "I love you and we're going to celebrate. We're going to make love, Michael. I won't take no for an answer."
She straddled his waist and for that brief moment he was the old Michael. The Michael that made her smile.
She snuggled next to him, spent by their activities, and she looked up to him. "Why are you crying, Michael?" She lifted her hand to brush away his tears. "We're supposed to be happy-" She didn't get to finish.
"I'm sorry, Liz, but I'm supposed to protect you. I'm doing this to protect you," he whispered, tears still glistering down his cheeks as his hands wrapped themselves around her neck.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she fought for air, but he was so heavy, and his hands were squeezing so hard.
He kept saying he was sorry, like a mantra and a prayer for forgiveness. She met his eyes and she knew he was indeed sorry. She was dizzy from the lack of oxygen, she put her hands over his trying to pry his hands lose. Tears were freely streaming down her face, and instead of taking a last breath she whispered two words. "The baby."
He not only killed his wife, he killed his child with is bare hands. The blood of his family was on his hand, yet blood hadn't been spilled.
He snuggled closer to Liz's lifeless body and wrapped his arm around her waist. "I did it to protect you. I just wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to end up like them. We're powerless against the enemy, Liz. You're better off this way. I love you so much." He felt her body turning cold and he wrapped the sheets around them. "I don't want you to be cold," he whispered.
They ripped him away from her body and with a triumphant smiled he stated, "You won't be able to harm her now. She's safe."
Michael kept scratching his hands. He could still feel how warm her neck had been and how it had turned cold. He looked up when he heard the bar door opening.
The woman looked like an angel dressed all in white. "Michael, this is the third time this week you drew blood scratching."
He looked at his hands as if they were alien artifacts. "They are supposed to be like this."
She gently took his hands and started to clean them.
"They're coming. You know. We won't be able to stop them."
The nurse gave him a sad smile. He had been given the insanity plea and had been inside the asylum for five years and every day he told the same story. "Who's coming?" she asked, following his lead.
"Khivar. The Skins. But he won't get her. She's safe now."
THE END.
