yellow bird flying get shot in the wing
good year for hunter and Christmas parties
and I hate and I hate and I hate and I hate
elevator music
the way we fight
the way I'm left here silent

*********************************************

I dropped the white rose on the ground and I could feel his eyes from across the grave. They were cold. Damning me. Damning the six of us. He wanted to lunge across and wrap his hands around my throat. He wanted to kill me. He wished I was in that grave instead of her. Me. Or Michael. Or Isabel. Even Liz. Maybe *especially* Liz.

I don't blame him.

I can't.

I have to blame me.

When Nasedo left and we shut Tess out, it was Kyle who took her in. It was Kyle who made her belong somewhere. It was Kyle's car we saw her in at red lights--saw her but pretended not to. It was Kyle who found her limp body, in their bed, with blood trailing from her slit wrists. It was Kyle who cared.

Not us, her destined family. Not me, her destined love. We closed ranks. We turned our backs. Because she was a stranger. Someone who made us question Liz and Maria and Alex. The love we'd found with humans. She was someone who'd come in and upset the perfect balance of our lives. So we pushed her away. Because she was alien. Ironic, huh? I know.

*********************************************

oh these little earthquakes
here we go again
these little earthquakes
doesn't take much to
rip us into pieces

*********************************************

Liz doesn't understand why I continue to blame myself...why I can't let it go. She puts her arms around me and expects me to lean down and kiss her sweet little mouth and forget Destiny. Forget that I'm a murderer. I might as well have handed Tess the razor blade...or drawn it across her pale skin myself.

Nasedo left her in our care. He left her thinking we would rise up and face our future. The four of us. He wasn't happy when he found out we'd turned tail and run. Raged at us from a private FBI line and told us were useless...that we were just lining up to die.

He was right. Tess was first in line. And I put her there.

Some leader I am. If I can't even keep one of my people alive...how am I supposed to save an entire planet? I see the accusation in Kyle's eyes every day. As I pull up to a red light on Main Street, in the Jeep, and there's a glaringly empty space in the passenger seat of his Mustang. As he passes me in the aisle in the CrashDown, the rage comes off of him in waves.

I want him to hit me. I do.

Maybe it would ease things in a way that a hundred of Liz's kisses can't.

*********************************************

we danced in graveyards with vampires till dawn
we laughed in the faces of kings
never afraid to burn
and I hate and I hate and I hate and I hate
disintegration
watching us wither
black winged roses that safely changed their color

*********************************************

Sometimes I visit her grave. And I stare at the headstone. Its in a lonely part of the cemetary...and there's always two bouquets of flowers there. A product of Isabel's guilt and Kyle's devotion. *Tess Harding, 1983-2002. R.I.P.* No platitudes like "Beloved Daughter" or "Beloved Friend". No accurate birth date. Not even her real name.

I guess putting anything "Beloved" on the stone would've been a lie. Except to Kyle. He saw her. He saw into her. He loved her. Why couldn't I?

*********************************************

oh these little earthquakes
here we go again
oh these little earthquakes
doesn't take much to
rip us into pieces
doesn't take much to
rip us into pieces

*********************************************

I'm sorry, Tess. I really am. I know it doesn't mean much now. A white rose falling into your grave doesn't even begin to apologize for the way I wronged you. A thousand white roses wouldn't do it.

*********************************************

I can't reach you
I can't reach you
I can't reach you
I can't reach you
give me life give me pain
give me myself again
give me life give me pain
give me myself again
give me myself again

*********************************************

Kyle hit me today. He found me standing at the headstone and I watched his gray-green eyes go wild. He snapped. And his fist, honestly, felt like a love tap. I staggered, narrowly missed crushing Isabel's wildflower arrangement. I staggered, fell, and whispered, "Thank you."

He stood there, looked at me with shock and hurt and more shock. And then he dropped to the grass beside me. I listened to him, a nearly grown man, crying. Great, huge, painful, racking sobs. And her name. And mine. "Tess....oh, God, Tess...why? Why? Evans...Evans, you fucker! Oh, Jesus, why?"

I couldn't tell him why. Not even when he launched himself at me and starting punching me. My face...my ribs...my stomach....I didn't feel it. I felt nothing until he just broke...and we lay there together in the dirt.

"I don't know, Kyle...I don't know...I'm sorry," I told him. I think he heard me.

I'm not sure he believed me.

I'm not sure *I* believed me.

*********************************************

oh these little earthquakes
here we go again
oh these little earthquakes
doesn't take much to rip us into pieces
doesn't take much to rip us into pieces
doesn't take much to rip us into pieces

*********************************************

Now, as I pass Kyle, there's no judgment in his eyes. Just quiet sadness. And a strange kind of knowing. I wonder if he knows what I know...?

I'm going to be the next in line.