Characters: Melanie Stryder, The Seeker (Lacey)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Though if Stephenie Meyer is selling, I'd be willing to buy. I've got five bucks...
A/N:So I didn't get all five reviews since last time, but I wrote this beautifully long chapter, and I couldn't wait to post it. Thank you to those who reviewed (lollydolly, ladaane, and justawriter). Your comments and advice have been helpful. Also, I know I've been really skimpy on the Jared/Melanie relationship stuff. If you've been reading this fic hoping for a lot of that, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I just feel like I'm beating the dead horse if I wax eloquent on that particular relationship, because Stephenie Meyer placed a huge emphasis on the Melanie/Jared/Wanderer triangle in the book itself. Anything beyond that seems overkill. But, if you want to see more of Jared or any of the other characters, leave a review and I'll try to incorporate him/her into the story more. Thanks for your continued support.
~Song
My integration into the community was both harder and easier than I had expected.
It was harder because those who had been close to Wanderer didn't seem to know how to act around me. They had never known me as Melanie. It must have been hard for them. It was Wanderer's body, but I was not Wanderer.
It took a while for the knowledge that Wanderer no longer inhabited my body to penetrate into the general consciousness. There were several times within the first few weeks when Lily or Trudy seemed to forget that I was Melanie now. One of them would look up from their work, a request or comment on their lips, only to have the words die in their throats when their eyes met mine. In those moments, it was painfully obvious to all involved that I had been forgotten.
I hated the way their eyes slid over me, uncertain, any time I entered a room. I had no reason to be treated like a pariah, but so it was. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life here as a sometime outcast, accepted by some, avoided and unacknowledged by others. The worst part was that none of Wanda's friends was anything but polite. If I asked Lily to hand me a bar of soap in the washing room, she would do so without the slightest hesitation or ill-grace. It was the same for the rest. If I asked them a question, they would answer readily enough, albeit with impersonal, vague responses and fake, plastic smiles.
I could not complain that anyone had been outright rude or unkind to me, and yet I felt as alienated as if I were the target of malicious activities or open dislike. The worst part was that I knew that they did not mean to make me feel that way. The discomfort they displayed was merely a result of uncertainty and unfamiliarity, but I could find no way to melt the ice between us. What could I say? 'I'm sorry that I didn't disappear like most hosts?'
It was harder because Ian would not speak to me. He avoided eye contact like the plague, and unless absolutely necessary, refused to remain in the same room for any length of time. He was in pain, and his pain tore a hole in my chest. I'd promised Wanderer that I would try to help him as best I could, but that was a hard thing to do when he hated me.
I was surprised by how much his hatred stung. Each little snub drove splinters of ice into my heart. I was anguished to realize that I loved Ian too. I loved him, and it was different than the way Wanda had loved him, because I did not want to love Ian. I finally understood the agony that loving Jared must have caused Wanderer. Loving someone who despises you is not a pleasant experience.
I didn't want him to hate me, because even though I'd despised him for disregarding me while Wanderer had possessed this body, I genuinely liked him. I knew we could be good friends if the situation was different, and I regretted that his love for Wanderer prevented that. Though in comparison, Ian's distaste for me was a mere pittance compared to the open hostility and anger he reserved for Jared. I think he blamed Jared for making my repossession of my body so vitally necessary. I wondered if he thought that Jared was responsible for influencing Wanderer to make the decision that had removed her, however indefinitely, from their midst.
Several times, even after Ian became acquainted to the truth of the situation, his hostility almost broke out into open violence. It was torture for me on these occasions, because I could not bear to see the man I loved and the man I did not want to love hurting each other. The sight of blood made my stomach turn. Another byproduct of Wanderer's presence, I suppose, as I had never used to be squeamish.
It was harder because I knew that behind the smiles and happy faces that greeted me, there was an underlying grief and regret. I felt guilty for being here in her place. She had done more for these people than I would ever be able to do. I felt like an intruder. It was unreasonable, but when I looked into their smiling, welcoming faces, I felt like a monster. How was I any better than the parasites I had claimed to hate? Wanderer had had a life here. And I'd taken it from her.
Sometimes I truly hated Wanderer for what she had done. She had left me adrift in a world that I was not familiar with, plagued by feelings and emotions that were not mine. More so than having temporarily stolen my body and mind from me, these offences were near unforgivable. I was forced to muddle my way through the mess of pain and confusion she'd left behind her, while she slept through it all, oblivious. If I could only give her a piece of my mind! But the irony of the statement did not fail to strike me, and my anger was suddenly defused by the grim amusement that replaced it.
It was easier because I had Jared. He rarely left my side, and his hands were always touching me. The resulting burn distracted me from the worries and regrets that plagued me. His kisses burned away the pain, burned away everything except the feel of his lips against mine. When I was wrapped in his embrace, I had no opportunity to dwell on the less pleasant aspects of my new life.
If I had Jared, I could walk through fire and come out unscathed. Jared made everything happy. When he was around, it was as if the stars strove to shine a little brighter. Drawn, tense faces and unhappy thoughts could not exist in this world when Jared was there. He was a charm against pain and suffering, a shield from unhappiness and melancholy. When Jared was there, the world was glowing. Like a bug to a light, my eyes were drawn repeatedly to his beautiful face. In his arms, I was enveloped in a bubble of joy, and nothing could ruin my happiness.
It was easier because I was not new to life in the caves. Though some of the others had initially been unsure of me, their apprehensions were easily overcome. They warmed up quickly when I assumed the role that Wanda had played in their small society. I could not be what she had been to them, but I could still work just as hard.
I threw myself into my chores with enthusiasm, eager to prove my worth. I made sure to be the first up in the mornings and the last done working at night, though Jared and Jamie protested that I didn't have to prove myself to anyone. I disregarded them completely. Of course I had to prove myself. Even if I was only proving it to myself. If I was not just as hard-working and helpful as Wanderer had been, then I did deserve to have taken her place among them. Jared told me countless times that life in the caves did not work that way. People were not accepted or rejected according to their ability to benefit the community as a whole. If that were true, he told me, then many of the current inhabitants wouldn't even be there.
It was easier because I was human, and I belonged there. Wanda had told me the same thing countless times as she had contemplated her impending removal from the scene, but I had never really believed it. I was accepted without question by most, though many still grieved for Wanda. I was one of them, and they would not turn me away or cast me out.
This sentiment did little to comfort me, because in truth it was an ideal they held onto only because they had to. If the human race were not in such danger from extinction, I was sure that they would not be so accepting. I had clearly seen the tortured expressions on many faces whenever Lacey came around. Given their choice, free of an obligation to the dwindling remainders of humanity, I was almost certain that the obnoxious woman would have been sent packing long ago.
I admit, the first time I met the Seeker's body, I was torn between a desire to flee and a desire to attack. It was a few days after my return to control and possession of my body, and word of my 'arrival' had long since permeated the small society. I guess I should have seen it coming, but somehow I had forgotten about her in the chaos and general confusion.
The specifics of the time and place of the meeting escape me now, though I distinctly recall the feeling of her gaze resting upon me. It took me a moment to recognize her bulbous eyes, though my hair stood on end and my mouth had gone dry.
"Hey. It's Melanie, right?" The hated voice startled me. I reacted instinctively to the perceived threat; my fingers curled into fists, my pupils dilated, and my muscles tensed in preparation of either fight or flight, though to this day I'm unsure which. Adrenaline coursed through my veins with each beat of my heart, which contrived to pump blood to my body more quickly even as it leapt into my throat. My mind reacted more slowly, still frozen in shock as I lifted my eyes to meet hers.
She had not changed much. Understandable, for the last time I had seen her had been mere days ago (Something I remembered with startled surprise). It felt as if the conversation between Wanda and the former Seeker had taken place in another lifetime. Her eyes were the same: bulbous and opened too-wide, though they were flat and unremarkable without the silvery sheen of a soul behind them.
It took only a moment to comprehend that there was no real danger. My mind thawed, and I berated myself for stupidity and cowardice. I could not help the way my stomach wrenched with distaste. I had spent far too many months loathing and fearing the face before me; my revulsion was instinctive. I swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. "Hey." I was relieved that my voice didn't tremble. I could not bear to give her the satisfaction of knowing how she terrified me.
"Must be nice to finally have that worm out of your head."
It took me a moment to comprehend her meaning. Worm? It had been a long time since I'd thought of Wanderer with any trace of dislike. It was hard to reconcile myself to the knowledge that I'd once held this self-same opinion of her.
I shrugged, and it was a short, restricted movement, because the muscles in my shoulders and back were still tense. I had no obligation to tell this self-righteous stranger that, in truth, I would have done anything to keep Wanda from forcibly removing herself.
The short woman folded her arms over her chest. I flinched at the unexpected movement. I broke eye contact momentarily, my gaze flying to her hands, searching for a weapon or other evidence of ill-intent. When our eyes met again, less than a second later, I would have sworn I saw vindictive satisfaction and amusement in her expression. Dislike left a sour taste in my mouth.
She appraised me a moment more before speaking again. "I thought you would have been ecstatic to be rid of her."
My spine stiffened at the words, and I squared my shoulders defiantly. "Wanderer was a good person," I forced the words out through my teeth. My tone was acid. "She was my friend, and I loved her."
She seemed taken aback. Her eyes widened in surprise briefly, before she blinked and the sneer I knew so well settled back onto her face. It looked far more natural there than the sugar-and-cyanide smile that had been her dominant expression up to this point.
"Oh." The word dripped with disdain. "So she got to you too, huh? I thought you of all people might be a little less gullible, but I can see I was wrong. You're just like everyone else, so smitten with her you can't see her for what she really is-a rotten, insidious parasite."
The expression in her eyes was truly venomous as she turned on her heel and strode away. I watched her go, my jaw clenched against the words I longed to throw after her retreating form. Words like 'spiteful' and 'bitch' and 'selfish'. Hurtful, barbed words that would open her eyes to how little liked she was and how much better off everyone else had been without her. I held my tongue, not because I didn't think I couldn't take the shrimpy woman in a fight, but because I didn't want to defile Wanda's sacrifice. She'd turned traitor on everyone she'd ever known, just to save that one human. What she'd never done for me, she'd done for Lacey, and it seemed wrong to demean that with ugly words.
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