Disclaimer: If they were mine, there would be a contract for at least five seasons by now.
Category: Guess. No really. Guess. I didn't use any names... *grin*
Rating: PG-13
Summary: *sigh* There isn't one really. Just read it.
Distribution: www.KingdomOfTula.com, anyone else -- ask.
Dedication: To all of those who are fighting for the third season. Roswell fans are the best ;o)

Special Thank you to Bella, the best beta a girl could want.

***

You remembered something of your world yesterday.

You were just standing there, flipping burgers as usual, your mind focused on your last conversation with Max about his memories returning. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what he had described to you and it happened. Pictures and sounds surrounded you, ethereal like a long-forgotten dream yet familiar and tangible enough for you to realize the truth right away.

You dropped what you were doing, ran into the dining area and, without as much as a simple "excuse me" to the customer, grabbed my arm and dragged me into the back room. I opened my mouth to yell at you because your little rude stunt would cost me tips but the expression on your face stopped me.

You bubbled. I'd never imagined you being capable of it--Mr. Stoic dropping all his carefully built defenses and bubbling. And you managed to look incredibly cute, too. Your lips moved hastily, words tumbling out so quickly that they almost ran into each other, your hands flew around and your eyes . . .

I take it back. You didn't look cute. There was this amazing light in your eyes . . . a little bit of awe mixed with some longing. And a huge surge of pure happiness.

Standing there, in that small dark room, in your greasy uniform, covered with stains which even an FBI lab wouldn't be able to identify, your hair sticking to your face with sweat and traces of ketchup on one cheek . . .

You'd never looked more beautiful in your life.

And I had to bite the inside my cheek to keep from crying as my chest constricted painfully with realization.

It was time.

We'd lied to ourselves long enough.

Deep down I'd always known but I was never brave enough to accept it, pushing the thought back every time it surfaced, begging for a little more time. And I think you knew it too; that's why you fought me for so long, trying to prevent the heartbreak of it. And just when I believed I was finally winning . . . it was time.

Time to stop lying.

No matter how much you love me or how happy I make you, the truth is, you'll always belong to a golden speck, that tiny light shining bright among four sisters a little to the left of Orion's belt.

No matter how much I love you or how happy you make me . . .

You'll never be mine.

As painful as it was, I wanted to treasure this moment forever.

***

This might sound crazy, but inside my mind I created this huge house. Each room is filled with memories and colored by the emotions they evoke.

There is a room with gray walls filled with hazy and saddening memories of my father. I don't visit that room often, because I don't like the way it makes me feel; more often the images visit me in my sleep--too painful to be called dreams, too nostalgic to be called nightmares. But I need to keep that room and those memories, because that's all I have left of him. There are rooms overflowing with the soft peachy light of warmth I feel whenever I am with Liz and Alex, recollections of laughter and tears, funny stories and childish fights, silent treatments and shared secrets--all mixed haphazardly together in a pattern confusing even to me.

My mom. The transparent tender lilac of her love is present in every room of the house, giving me strength with its intensity and devotion, even when it's lurking in the background. Memories of her range from the dark purple of her pain while singing me to sleep after my father left, to the shimmering violet of our giggles during the playful banter every morning over who gets the shower first.

But it was you who turned the delicate lights of my nice cozy house into a flaming rainbow.

The blazing red of our passion during our first real make out in the Crashdown. The scorching orange of my anger at you at the soap factory. The velvety blue of your vulnerability when you came to me after your encounter with Hank. The brightness of gold when you told me you loved me, dimmed by the tiny mahogany flecks of my fear of losing you. The dark green of your stubbornness, of your refusal to let me close to you; the neon lime of my exasperation with you, softened by the creamy ivory layer of my hope. The sickening yellowish jealousy when I saw you with Courtney. The comforting navy of my pride after you killed the Gandarian queen. The smoky bronze surrounding your form as you made one of my dreams come true in Vegas. The sparkling pink lighting up your slightly unsure but teasing grin as you asked me to dance at the prom . . . I could go on forever. From the monumental moments of our first kiss to seemingly insignificant glances and smiles--through all of them runs the hot crimson of your love for me. A perfect match to the shining ruby of my love for you.

***

There are three moons circling your planet.

The density of the water is higher; when you swim in it, it feels like swimming in pudding.

The weather is more stable--no rain or snow.

The sky is lilac and sunsets are purple.

And I might bitch and moan that I'm losing you to them, but that would be a lie too. You can't lose something that was given to you for a short loan. This might sound somewhat ironic to someone who's been hiding all his life, but you were given to Earth for safekeeping and I'm sorry we did such a shitty job at it. I wish your stay here had been more pleasant. Maybe then you wouldn't be so happy to leave it.

I'm really good at lying, aren't I?

It makes it easier.

I took this image of you, a silver light of wonder and discovery still on your face, giving an almost surreal, angelic appearance to your frame and spreading to illuminate the entire room--while painfully stabbing through me like a thousand little needles--and stored it deep down.

I'm not ready for it yet but I will be someday.

Right now it hurts too much.

Because I have to let you go and it's killing me inside.

I'm not Juliet just like you're no Romeo. I'm not going to commit suicide because I can't have you. I'll survive. It'll hurt like hell, it already does, but I'll keep on going and some day it'll hurt less. I will find someone else, and, who knows, I might fall in love with him. We might get married and even have kids. A girl, a beauty with long blond locks and a name fit for a princess. And a boy, with dark eyes filled with happiness, for he'll be loved more than any other boy in the world, this or other, and a name that will hurt me every time I say or even think it but will soothe the pain just as well. And I will love them more than life itself--they will become my salvation and the remedy for my broken heart.

But I'll always remember the rainbow. No matter what.

You won't though. You'll remember for a while but once you get "home," wherever it is . . . you'll forget about me so you can be completely happy. You'll only forget for a moment at first, but that will be enough. After that, your memories of me, of us, won't be the same. The colors will be distorted by another planet, different surroundings. I don't know if it will make them more painful, or less. I just know they won't be the same.

***

I have tonight all planned out.

Your apartment is spotless and there is dinner warming up in the oven. I brought all the candles I could find and they are burning softly, filling the small room with delicate light and the exotic fragrance of ylang-ylang.

My mom will probably be disappointed in me. I don't know, something tells me that if she knew the whole truth, she'd yell and nag, but she would understand.

I need you to know, even if it won't make much difference in the long run. And this is the only way I know how.

You may never be mine, spaceboy, but I will always belong to you.

For I am forever a willing prisoner of the rainbow.

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