Banner by Nicola
Disclaimer: I own nothing Roswell.
Character Focus: Liz/Isabel Michael, Isabel POV
Author's Note: Thanks, hah, for beta-reading! This is Part 3 in the Transference Series.
Liz likes to use the word "conductivity" a lot. To her, it defines the properties of our relationship, allows her to view it in terms she understands, of transmission, of cause and effect.
But it was another word she used once, "conductance", that caught my imagination. It refers to the ability of an entity to conduct - electricity, heat, whatever. I don't really care. I just like the sound of it, the image that it brings to my mind.
Conductance. It makes me think of a symphony orchestra, a myriad individual sounds focussed through a conductor to produce music. And because I heard it before ever seeing it on paper, for me the last syllable will always be "dance". Now, I love to watch Liz dance. I love to dance with her. And so when I see her, I think of her and how much I appreciate the conductance between us.
All three of us. Liz, myself, and Michael.
I've always loved Michael. I've never denied that. It's a complicated and imperfect love, because neither of us can satisfy the other's needs completely, but it's an enduring one.
I can be happy with Michael; I know this. Growing up, I fantasized about getting married and having a family like every other little girl (and looking back, I realize now that I had a few other fantasies that little girls usually don't admit to, which makes me smile secretly when I see Liz). And since humans were off limits, and Mom and Dad explained that Max wasn't a viable prospect, I assumed without really examining the notion that my life would be with Michael. And it wasn't exactly wrong to believe that. I know this.
But it never seemed precisely right, either.
For instance, I don't like being ordered around. I don't. And I won't react well if anyone - anyone - tries. I hate it when people try to intimidate me, and if there's no one around to keep him in check, eventually Michael will resort to these kind of tactics because that's his way. But they don't work on me, and dealing with it all gets tiresome very quickly.
Still, and I don't think this is as contrary as it sounds, I do like the sense of security I get when I'm with someone who knows how to take charge.
Believe it or not, that's one of the reasons I grew attracted to Alex. And just so there's no confusion - I definitely find Alex attractive. For one thing, he's cute, especially when he lets his hair grow out enough to run your fingers through it. And I'll never forget that the first time I saw him - really saw him - he and I were dancing. It was as if he just knew what would get to me.
But more than that, he knows how to take charge without being overbearing. He's so good at it, in fact, that I think no one else really realizes when he does it, which always amuses me. It's one of the reasons he's so good with Maria, who needs someone to catch her when her emotions get the best of her. And it's why she's good for him, because he truly can be there for her. I still care about him a great deal, you know. About both of them.
But when Alex and I were together … something seemed to be missing. For one thing, I didn't realize just how alien I would feel in a relationship with a human, and sometimes that upset me more than I let on.
So I turned to Michael, and he turned to me. It was nice ... when it wasn't awkward, and slightly uncomfortable, and still not quite right. Something was missing.
I got my first glimmer of what that might be the day I connected with Liz, the day we worked together to save my brother's life.
She had this unique energy that just seemed to - to vibrate - with mine so easily. Not alien, but not exactly human either. I'd never felt so comfortable connecting with anyone before, never, and I found myself looking at her in a different way. And then I sat back and watched her take charge of the situation with Ava, which frankly, had gotten a little out of control. (See how Michael and I get into trouble together? We both need that voice of authority that can be irritating but also reassuring and constructive.)
And I thought about how, when the choice was mine, I always dreamwalked her first. In the beginning I did it to learn more about the girl Max had endangered us all for, to see if we could trust her. To see if she deserved him. And then somehow it turned around as I learned more than I expected, as I wondered how she could trust us so completely. And soon I couldn't help but wonder if he deserved her.
I watched her after that night in the Crashdown. A lot. I guess I forgot to be subtle about it, though, because she called me on it about a week later.
It was amazing, how we fit together. It didn't seem quite real, but at the same time it was too real, too intense to truly comprehend, so I simply concentrated on the feelings coursing over me, both physical and emotional. I acted on instinct, and I will never forget the welcome shock of first kissing Liz Parker, because I felt … changed. Charged. Like something was happening inside of me, something chemical, something electric. This wasn't the first time my alien side made itself felt. But it was the first time I liked it. And I knew that this was not for Max, this was for me.
Still, something was missing. It was like when something hovers at the edge of your vision and you can't quite make it out but you know it's there, you know it's significant, and you know it's coming. And then Michael stepped out of the shadows, and everything fell into place.
It was magic; it was music; it was a symphony so complex and yet so pure that the sheer beauty of it brought tears to my eyes.
When Liz asked what was happening, I told her the truth. I believe that, for whatever reason, being in contact with her helps me channel my energy more effectively than when I'm alone.
But I didn't tell her just how alone I had felt after losing contact that first time we connected, how I had never felt my isolation so keenly until the connection was gone. And I didn't tell her how I would stand in the hallway at school when I knew she would be walking by because her mere presence eased the prickling of chaotic energy under my skin.
I don't pretend to understand what's happening, and I'm not sure I care to. All I know is that when I'm in their arms, together, I feel safe and whole and at peace with myself.
And we do fit together beautifully. Sometimes I'm surprised that I don't insist on being in the middle of our little huddles, because I know me. I like being the focus of attention. There's nothing more satisfying than being worshipped by both Michael and Liz at the same time, nothing, unless it's having them both in a position where I can enjoy full body contact. And let's face it, there are definite bonuses to being involved with people both taller and shorter than yourself - there's so much possibility, so much potential for finding new positions, new aspects of the relationship.
Damn, I said it. I said "potential". Now, I've been avoiding saying words like "electricity" and phrases like "potential energy" because Liz uses them a lot to explain her theory of Alien Conductivity, and when I think of her that way some nosy idiot inevitably feels a need to ask why I look so happy. Maybe some day I'll answer. Some day I'll admit out loud that I feel weak inside when she gets excited because she's devised yet another outrageous theory that only makes sense to her.
Well, I think her theories might make sense to Michael - he nods as if they do - but all I care about is the sense of completion I felt when I'm with them both. When I can simply enjoy the warmth of our connection.
Sometimes it heats up, though, and it burns. We've all been busy lately, either with work or school or family business, and haven't been able to meet for a few days.
Tonight Liz came to my window, panting and flushed, and I ran wondering hands over heated flesh and marvelled that one tiny person could produce so much energy. Michael showed up minutes later, and although he shrugs it off as coincidence, I think that somehow he sensed that he was needed. That the three of us needed to be together right then.
I think this connection is not only intuitive and growing but also addictive, and like a true addict, I don't care. I want more.
I want the way electricity dances across my skin when I'm in contact with them both.
I want to close my eyes and hear the music of our energies merging in a symphony of power and intensity and sensation. I want to lose myself in it; I want to use it to clear my mind of all the day-to-day static that will distract me from what's really important if I let it.
I want to fulfill our purpose, here on Earth or somewhere else. I do. But I also want to feel like me again, like Isabel Evans, and I need them to do that. I need Michael and Liz.
I need their energies with mine.
I need their conductance.
The Transference Series: Conduit Conductivity Conductance
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