O is for Outcast. He had never really felt as if he fit in on this world; had always known something was different about him. And for each and every smart ass out there who gaped at him like he had suddenly sprouted horns, he didn't mean the obvious answer. Yes, of course his alien origins made him different; his ineloquent brother had even used those very words to explain why he and Liz couldn't be together prior to their non-relationship.
But he didn't mean that.
That difference was compounded by being fostered on, as they say it, 'the wrong side of the tracks,' the charge of what had to be one of the most reviled men in Roswell, further leading to his label of 'misfit.' No matter what he did in the beginning, how hard he'd tried to please, he could never overcome the stigma of being 'Whitmore's boy,' despite his name being completely different from the man who kept him as a meal ticket. After awhile, he simply gave up, buried his hopes under an avalanche of bitterness and let them fade into obscurity.
But even that wasn't the issue really – he had always felt like an outsider, felt that there was something different about him that set him apart from the other hybrids. A memory, deeply rooted and suppressed within the confines of his mind, whispered in his dreams that he had always been this way – aloof, standoffish, cold, indifferent, detached, solitary – they all fit the image that would occasionally crop up in the recesses of his brain, taunting him.
The black sheep of the family.
The dissenter.
Images would flow before his eyes as he slumbered, of a difficult child, who rarely opened up to anyone and marched to his own tune, and never accepted anything but on his own terms. The word 'obstinate' rang through his ears, in a voice coated in disappointment and disapproval, and lead to opprobrium – disgrace – and ostracism. If he managed to chase down those elusive images, he was faced with the man the difficult child grew into, one who followed his own rules, sneering at the overly officious and mocking the obedient, who had more care for society's frivolous dictates than true justice.
A man who, laughing in the face of adversity, thumbing his nose at the masses, sought to right the wrongs in his world, often to his own detriment.
Or at least, that was his public mask; his outer appearance.
In truth, deep inside, it was the opposite; the mask protected him from careless words and actions, allowed him to move through their society, inciting unrest for the compliant, mindless hogs that sucked up their precious resources without thought and slowly obliterated them. In time, this man would rise from the shadows to heights no one could have foreseen, becoming the second in command to his planet and viewed as a revolutionary, with his own cult following.
Which was why, when Tess barged into their not-so-happy sextet, and stirred up Max and Isabel's complacent, ordered world, a part of him rejoiced. Recognizing a kindred spirit, one that would do what was necessary to right their current world, had excited him and awakened that long dormant part of his soul. And although he made a fuss and pretended not to like this interloper in their midst, a part of him grew hopeful that they were finally on the right track.
O is for Overture. It was also why he was one of the first to embrace her when her mask was finally ripped away to reveal that she was one of them; the missing fourth that he had long sought after, even before pictures revealed there was another alien. Max did as he always did, and buried his head in the sand, following Liz around like a whipped puppy, avoiding the truth before his eyes. Isabel shied away, hesitant to embrace someone who would disrupt her anally controlled, comfortable life and buried herself in her endless human frivolities and projects in an effort to maintain that carefree life, despite the fact that it was nothing more than a pretty mirage.
But he – he saw it for what it truly was – the opportunity to learn, for knowledge, for a chance to belong to something bigger and grander and better in every way than the humdrum existence he'd been forced into by circumstance beyond his control. It appealed to the rebel in him, the one who wanted to get back to his origins and a life he had been long denied. He wasn't cut out for this mundane, simple life.
So, when she approached him, offering to teach him their ways and help him hone his chaotic powers, he clutched at it like a starving child would to the first palatable tidbit, desperate to quell the ache raging viciously in his breast, in his gut. The desire to know all of himself, led him down a path that finally felt right for the first time in his life – he was working towards a goal he believed in. And even if that previously unplanned kiss with a certain, small-town brunette had shook his world, momentarily making him question his own opinions of this pathetic, dense rock they lived on, he remained true to his quest, pursuing each succulent nugget of information that fell from lying lips.
Not that he knew it at the time.
O is for Octet. Through his accord with Tess, they managed to form a hesitant truce between the eight members of the Alien Abyss, although Liz was less than happy with Tess' induction. Having never forgiven her for driving an irreparable wedge between her and Max with that rainy day kiss, Liz was naturally suspicious of the blonde, and had never fully welcomed her into the group, often saying that something was off about her act.
Months later, he would wish that he had paid heed to her words.
They entered into one of those blissfully ignorant phases that will haunt him for the rest of his life, becoming a unit, cementing the octet as things spiraled out of control around them. Faced with enemies at every turn – a government seeking to eradicate anything even remotely different to it and the enemies from their own planet, the Skins – they gelled and held firm, blind to the evil that lurked within their own collective.
They should have questioned it; the ease with which Tess had insinuated herself into their lives. Had he not been wrapped up in the rightness to his former self emerging after all these years, he would have questioned the wrongness of some of her actions. A true revolutionary that he may have been, he had also believed in moderation; that there were ways to change the world order and definite ways you did not, and Tess skated closer to the edge of that line than he liked.
But he'd never even suspected that something was irrevocably amiss when Alex suddenly took a trip to Sweden. Years later, he would look back and realize that Tess must have mindwarped them into believing that a student exchange in the middle of the school year was natural, and he couldn't have halted those events even if he had been suspicious. But that didn't ease the guilt – over his mindless acceptance of Tess and bringing her into the fold – and the pain that sliced through his heart when Jim uttered the words that shattered their world once more.
"Alex is dead."
O is for Opium – anything that cause dullness or inaction; something having a tranquilizing or stupefying affect.
The fog that filled his head at those words sent him reeling, leaving him aching and breathless as Liz fell to her knees with a cry of anguish, so piercing that it seemed to impale his heart with its sheer strength alone. Sinking silently behind her, he carefully wrapped his arms around her, and choking on his own grief, he barely felt it when she burrowed into his arms, harsh sobs wracking and shuddering through her body, due to his own disbelieving numbness.
The words seemed to ricochet through his head, tearing it to shreds every time they echoed, until finally his mind shut down in defense, leaving him in a sucking, deadened pool of dread. One that washed over him with cold, unrelenting precision, slicing him from the inside out as he knew, he just knew deep down that this was somehow his fault, even if it was only subliminally.
It would take weeks before he realized just how accurate those first thoughts were.
Days passed in an almost drugged state, the surviving members of their former octet dazed, stupefied, that this could happen; that one of their own had fallen in this mad intergalactic game. The numbness saw them through the funeral and wake, but quickly shattered when Liz dropped her bomb that she felt that Alex had been murdered.
Murder. Another word that ripped through his head with chilling, calculated exactitude.
It brought to fore all those carefully repressed qualms he had about Tess' actions, the subtle chinks in her armor, the sometimes sarcastic lilt in her voice when she agreed that nothing would tear them apart. The doubts whispered through his ears as Max and Liz fought, splitting the remaining group down the middle, aliens versus humans. Staring at the fractured group in front of him, he said not a word as his stomach churned uneasily, six sets of eyes on him.
He knew he should stand with his kind; that he was expected to silently walk out with his brethren, but the look in angry, indignant brown eyes stayed his hand. He agreed with her assessment, and if Max chose to bury his head in the sand, that was on him. He on the other hand will stand with those who needed his protection. Frowning at Max, he squared his shoulders and silently took Liz's hand, giving nonverbal confirmation of his decision.
Silence blanketed the room as Max and Isabel stiffened, almost flinching as animosity and hurt flared in their eyes respectively, but he held firm, standing by what he knew to be the right decision; that those two could turn their backs on Liz, Maria and Kyle after everything enraged him. And those faint whispers of what he'd once been, the avenger who followed his own heart, his own rules broke free as he stood between the 'little people' and the supposed royalty.
And faced with the cold, malicious glee, glinting in blue eyes as the blonde serpent slinked smugly past, Isabel and Max in tow, he knew the fight was far from over. He had defeated injustice once, with nothing more than his convictions and the support of his people; he could take down the malignant, little snake again.
Even if it wore a different face.
O is for Overcome.
