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Connections

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Summary: Some connections are meant to happen. Isabel is about to find that out first hand.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Roswell > Andrew-CenteredLindsayRFR151767018902 Jun 042 Jun 04Yes
Connections
By
LindsayR

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: BtVS S7 through ‘Chosen’. Roswell S3 through ‘Graduation’.
Pairing: Isabel/Andrew
Summary: Isabel’s POV. Sometimes you need to connect to someone to block out the loneliness, even if it’s only for a night.
Author’s Note: I have no idea where this came from. It was the first thing I’d written in months and I’m just now posting it for all you to review. Please!

It had only been a one-night stand.

We’d been on the road for months. Max and Liz were living in a state of blissful happiness, content to just finally be together and married, oblivious to everyone else’s misery. Maria was the first to go. No one really knows where. It’s not as if she can get in touch with us and let us know where she’s at. We left her in New York but I don’t think she stayed there. She missed home. Michael was shattered, but not for long. He and Maria were over and I think he knew it. Kyle was next, striking out on his own when we were in Tampa, Florida. He never showed any signs of having powers so we were okay with him leaving. He’ll probably head home eventually. He wouldn’t want to stay away from his dad for too long. It was when Michael split in the middle of the night that things started to go downhill. I hated being stuck with Liz and Max, argued with them constantly, and eventually came to resent them for their happiness when I was denied that.

When we rolled into Los Angeles I felt like I was coming home. The city was the perfect place to get lost in. Anonymity was everything and I embraced it, dancing the nights away in club after club, gaining entrance to places most people waited hours to get into only to be turned away. I partied with movie stars and just enjoyed myself while I could. We would leave eventually and I wanted to say that I experienced it all while I was there. I just wanted to connect with people and not feel so alone anymore. Even more alone than I was in Roswell or after Alex was killed.

One night, instead of going to the loud, boisterous clubs that I usually frequented I ended up at a bar with a really strange name. What the hell ‘Caritas’ means I still don’t know. There were demons in the bar, things I’d only dreamed of, but that didn’t keep me from going in. I was sitting at the bar drinking a coke, listening to a blue eyed man with a beautiful voice playing the guitar on stage when someone sat down next to me. He was shorter than me, in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He introduced himself and talked for a while, babble mostly, while trying to hit on me. I didn’t catch his name but I think I heard something about Star Wars in his panicked speech, but I really didn’t pay much attention. He was just some nervous geek trying to pick me up. I must have been desperate for a connection though because I dragged him out the door ten minutes later and got a cab to the nearest hotel.

He was a novice in bed, but was pretty talented with his mouth once he got a little guidance. The sex was good, better than I expected and I enjoyed someone paying attention to me for once. When I woke up the next morning naked, I cringed, wondering what had come over me. I had been beyond aggressive with him, but from what I remembered he hadn’t seemed to mind. I took the opportunity to really look him over while he was sleeping. He wasn’t bad looking I guess. I certainly could have done worse. He kind of reminded me of Alex, in that ‘I’m not the most handsome guy in the world but there’s more to me than that’ way, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be around when he woke up. I hate messy emotions and that’s all that one night stands lead to. So I got dressed and left as quietly as possible calling a cab to go back to the motel Liz and Max had decided to stay at. We rolled right back out of LA two days later. It never occurred to me to wonder if we’d been careful.

Now here I am, almost two months later, sitting in the bathroom of a dirty motel room just off the interstate in some small town, staring at the two white sticks in front of me. They both turned the same color. Blue.

I’m pregnant and some geek in LA named Andrew is the father.

Maybe some connections are meant to happen.

The End

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