Title: Pictures and Memories
Author: AnneB.
E-mail: dreambehr@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Category: Liz POV with Alex friendship
Summary: Cry Your Name….from the 5 min of the episode I got to see…
Disclaimer: As much as I’d love to take creative control of the show Roswell and end all of our pain…sadly none of this belongs to me…Roswell belongs to the WB, Jason Katims, and all of those producer people, and Melinda Metz…please don’t sue me…you’ve caused me enough pain already!
Pictures and Memories 1/1
Pictures…photographs…
They’re nothing except shiny pieces of paper, but somehow pictures have the ability to capture your memories…
Emotions spill out of them, out of people’s actions, people’s eyes, people’s hearts, and pictures are forever holding them, trapping them in that single instant for the rest of time.
And somehow, these simple shiny pieces of paper have managed to become your most cherished possession…your only link to the past times…to better times…to happier times.
So here I am, tonight, sitting alone in the Crashdown, surrounded by these pictures, and overwhelmed by memories of better times…Memories of days where things didn’t seem so hopeless. Remembering times when I didn’t feel quite so lost.
Alone…that’s what I am. Completely alone. It seems to be a pretty popular position for me these days.
I’m constantly left alone with my own memories.
It’s a miracle that I haven’t broken down yet. Some people seem to think that because I’m not crying, sobbing, wailing, that I don’t care…that his death doesn’t effect me. To be honest, I don’t know why I haven’t broken down yet…but somehow, as I sit here and let the memories overtake my soul…I can feel the crash coming.
How much longer before I let it sink in that he’s actually gone? How long before I learn to accept the pain in my heart?
I’ve been numb for days now…
I’m keeping myself moving, going through the actions of my everyday routine, but I’m not here, not really. I’m not really functioning.
During the day I absorb myself with investigating his death, searching for signs, clues, anything to help me understand why he had to be taken from me. I’m numb as I search for answers… I know the pain is there, somewhere deep in my heart, but I can’t let it sink in…I can’t let it take over. I have to be strong. I have to survive. So I have to keep searching.
At night though…oh, at night…I surround myself with pictures, engross myself in the memories of happier times.
He was my best friend…from the first time we connected way back in elementary school he always stood by my side, and I by his. He, Maria, and I…we were the Three Musketeers…friends with a bond so strong that no one could break us apart.
No human at least…but let’s not go there. I can’t think about them…this isn’t about them. This isn’t about him.
This is about Alex. This is about my best friend. This is about standing beside him and supporting him even beyond the grave. Alex needs me right now…Alex needs me to figure out why.
A soft smile passes my face. It feels strange, unfamiliar. When was the last time I smiled? Only a few days before, but it feels like a lifetime ago already…a lifetime where once upon a time I was happy with my best friend.
But even as unfamiliar as the feeling is, the smile is just a natural reaction as I stare at the pictures…at the hundreds of shiny pieces of paper, which somehow have captured my best friend into eternity. He lives on in these pictures, in my heart, in my memory.
Hundreds upon hundreds of images of his face, of that silly grin plastered across his beautiful face. It feels like he’s smiling at me, like he did every day of our life together, and I can’t help smiling back at him, even if he is no longer there.
That was always his gift. He was always able to make me smile, make me laugh…anytime, even when I thought all hope was gone…like I do right now…Alex’s soul is still here with me, smiling at me through these pictures…and making me smile.
He lit up the world for all of the people around him…for anyone like me who was lucky enough to be a part of his life.
As I flip through the pictures, memories flash across my mind…memories of better times, some long gone, some in the not so distant past.
Prom night…was it only just a few days before? Alex was so full of life…so at peace with himself…and he was just SO Alex, the way he was there for Isabel in the end…the way he was there with all of his friends.
He was an incredible friend…an incredible person. He always came through for me, anytime I needed him. It was just natural to him, like he couldn’t do anything else. Even if I wasn’t totally open with him, he still trusted me, supported me…loved me.
Suddenly, fear clenches my heart… Alex is gone…forever. Who can I count on now? Who will be there for me now? Am I doomed to sit alone for the rest of my life?
Pain clenches my soul, and I can feel it coming…the crash…the breakdown…the tears.
Leaping up, I run from the pictures, and collapse in a side booth, leaning my elbows on the table as I bury my face in my hands.
He’s gone…he’s really gone…
And for the first time I let myself cry…
For the first time it begins to sink in…
And right as I think that I can’t deal with it anymore…with the pain…with the loss…with going through my everyday routine as if my life hasn’t been torn to pieces…there’s a knock on the door of the café….
The End…
