| Air Maria muses about something |
 |
| Banner by isabelnmax AKA Jessamyn |
| Author: Minnie Rating: PG Fandom: Roswell Category: Gen - Courtney, Maria Disclaimer: Jason Katims and the WB are responsible for the show, not this fic. No infringement intended. Notes: Please do not archive elsewhere without permission. Spoilers for Wipe Out. This one's for Helen. Archive Date: 1/12/2001 Air. It is the ultimate freedom. It holds no boundaries, no limitations. The cavernous interior of the UFO Center reeks with it. Space and time seem to hold to a pattern here, a pattern unwilling to corrupt the silence. I call out a name, only to have it return to me undisturbed. I shrug and wander soundlessly through the halls, my footsteps halting at one solitary corner. I draw a shaky breath as I look upon on it. Powered by an inexplicable force, I rush to expand my lungs to take in my fill. Air seeps in me, nebulous and floating, to hug the walls of my being. Welcoming cells open to enclose in its whispering tendrils in a warm grasp. My eyes droop slightly to savor the sharpness of being free, alive and energized. My grasp automatically tightens in restraint as it craves more of this feeling. But air lashes out, rebels in the most elemental way. It holds back until I can take it no more and have to expel it with force. It departs willingly, leaving me with nothing but emptiness. I glance at the corner longer, looking past it to see … nothing. Nothingness. Emptiness. Something without size or shape, without form or substance. Something which she has become. She who no longer was. She who once lay in that spot which I now hover above. With quiet reluctance, I think of her. Expecting a big, blank nothing to come, I feel overwhelmed when a whirlwind of emotion attacks instead. Glee comes with the force of gale winds. A part of me rejoices at her loss, cavorting in celebration of her absence. Guilt then arrives in a gust, rebuking me for daring to dance at the apparent demise of a battered foe-turned-ally. Anger charges in breezily, haranguing me for denying the partial truth of my feelings. Above all, confusion reigns, breathing saucily down my neck and clouding my head with strange thoughts. What brought her to that final resolution? She fought hard for her form, fought those who would try to destroy it. Her struggles amounted to nothing less than a search for the mysteries of the Holy Grail. Or the granolith. Then she just gave up. Quit. Why? I shake my head in a restless motion, trying to understand why she deliberately and consciously released that which she wanted so desperately. Rebirth. Invigoration. Life. My mind drifts, trying to seize upon the right answer. “The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.” Yeah, right. Everyone jumps all too willingly at that sentiment. Although lovely and noble, that sentiment fits her as much as a never-changing hairstyle fits me. That explanation was too simple, too elementary for her. She had layers, literally and figuratively. As they peeled off, a new side was revealed. Niggling doubts, the ones not erased by simplistic, surface explanations, emerge past their cocoon to hang in the air like eternal questions. Frustration soon follows, sustaining the frequency of my doubts. Why did she do it? I cross my arms against my chest pointedly, trying to pull logic from within that stance, only to find myself listening to the short bursts of oxygen that escape me and following the ghostly substance wandering to graze my skin lightly. My skin feels warm, almost soulful, as slight hairs on my arms rise and quiver. I see air drawing on hard form and substance, then withdrawing it. A slight fluttering emerges from within. I struggle to tame it, to stamp and label it “realization” but it wafts away, soaring out of reach, leaving behind only traces of an indistinct treasure. I gulp in air in annoyance, hoping irritation would compel the feeble flaps of truth to reappear. Hastily drawn in, the air tingles, as if imparted with some great knowledge. Shivers dance down my spine as it invades my nose, moving past it to sink down to my lungs. It parks itself there and once more, I envelop its indefinable figure within my folds. This time, the air takes on new meaning. Trapped, it cannot be what it is. Free. I release it without hesitation, waving goodbye to its form. Released, it becomes what it is meant to be. Free. Could it be this that she saw? Oh, yes. She saw this, saw the insanity of fighting, no, forcing life into a shell, a boxy shell that was already dead anyway. For how could she really live inside something screamed that of deceptively silken traps, of constricting barriers and of limitless limitations? How could she live in something so ultimately airless? Thus, she released herself from her prison, ending its stifling reign. She mingled with the air, reveling in the freedom of its infinity, as she disappeared into it. Now with each indrawn breath, I feel her. “Courtney,” I shudder out softly. And feel her cadence fill me, boundless and unfettered. Then she leaves, mistily floating, leaving me wanting again. She has become the air. -End- HOME ROSWELL FAN FICTION FAN FICTION |