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Author: Bennie
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing Roswell.
Character Focus: CC, UC, not really what you would call 'shippy, I think.
Spoilers: Skin and Bones.
Author's Note: The song is Wild Boys by Duran Duran. The inspiration? The Road Warrior, baby.
He had returned.
The eyes that looked out over the desert vista were old. They spoke of ancient pain, of ageless agony and an eternal conflict between longing and loathing.
The wild boys are calling
On their way back from the fire
Max had come into his own as a leader. And for all of his "protector's" efforts, he knew who he had to thank, whose heat had forged his raw, untried steel into a finely honed weapon.
He owed the man he'd become to two women, his two grand passions. One personified love, a love so pure and all-encompassing that he would have sacrificed everything. And did. The other was his purpose, the duty to which he had pledged himself, in the process unleashing a cold and ruthless force on and into an unsuspecting galaxy.
An August moon surrender to a dust cloud on the rise
Wild boys falling far from glory
Love.
He thought of it as he watched a sandstorm obscure the crystalline beauty of a desert's eve, a furious and punishing force wreaking havoc on a serene landscape.
He had long forgotten the pretty words of love, remembering only exquisite pain and joy, memories more visceral than visual, emotions so intense that he, in his youthful innocence, both feared and welcomed oblivion when denied his deepest desire, his meaning, his glory.
He had taken that misery and shaped an existence of dual ecstasies, of devastation and dark triumph.
Reckless and so hungered
On the razor's edge you trail
Purpose.
His purpose was a legacy, passed along when its messenger succumbed in a blaze of cold fire to her own doom. He had revelled in her fierce determination, absorbing and then surpassing every lesson in conquest she could teach. He had learned to accept pain, to channel the rush of adrenalin into unbelievable feats of destruction, to harvest the energy of bitter defeat and then close his mind to all but victory. No matter what cost. And the cost was high.
He did not shave anymore, as a kind older man had once lovingly taught him in the comfort of a suburban family home. It was … safer … to use his powers, than to hold a sharp blade to his throat.
Because there's murder by the roadside
And a so-afraid new world
Sometimes, unbidden thoughts of a death long forgotten passed through the wasteland of his soul. He tried to remember why disposing of his one-time captor's body had seemed so important; he could no longer recall his face, and it was only the first of an untold and uncounted many. He no longer reflected on the nature of his existence, foregoing the ceremonial fire and burial to leave his enemies vanquished and vulnerable on the ground, meeting the morning sun with unseeing and unprotected eyes.
He still understood fear, but only as a glint in a victim's glare.
They tried to break us, looks like they'll try again
The fight was never-ending, the tension constant. He lived now for the rush of battle, the thrill of attack. Which was good, because he could always find trouble to occupy his free time.
Wild boys never lose it
He needed that occupation, couldn't afford to lose that focus.
Wild boys never chose this way
He had given up his protests years ago; this was his destiny, his life. He knew no other.
Wild boys never close your eyes
He never let his guard down, trained himself and those around himself to be alert at all times, punishing weakness swiftly and without mercy.
Wild boys always shine
It was a thin line to walk, and sometimes, in the stillness before and after, he could actually feel the world beneath him shudder and shift, trying to shake him, to claim his blood for its own greedy nourishment.
But he always won, always triumphed, always conquered … Always.
There was no room for compromise, for consideration.
Only victory.
He had returned.
You've got sirens for a welcome
Memories always surfaced - for one brief, often unnoticed moment - when Michael heard the klaxons, warnings sounded too late as he swept down upon the enemy in grim tenacity. Memories … of the futile wail of an ambulance or fire truck, of the accusatory howl of a clueless civil servant in desperate pursuit, of flashing red and blue lights awakening him out of a deep slumber. In another lifetime, he had been haunted by capture, had feared his own capabilities, and then found childlike comfort in a reluctant jailor.
He almost smiled to remember the Sheriff's attempts to protect them. Protect him.
Almost.
There's bloodstain for your pain
Now, as he reached out with his power - ah, that unimaginably intoxicating feel of pure energy running through his veins, impatient to find surcease inside the vulnerable centre of his target.
The sight of blood no longer shocked him; it was a sign of victory, proof that he had survived yet another battle. Nothing more.
And your telephone's been ringing
While you're dancing in the rain
Sometimes, during one of those rare flash floods that pummel the desert and thunder along its hidden canyons, he stood beneath its brutal force and turned his face to the sky, body still but mind awash with images from another lifetime … the cathartic feel of gentle showers on tender flesh, forever associated in his mind with the sound of a telephone ringing and ringing, never to be answered. Messages of love, never to be returned.
Wild boys wonder where is glory
Where is all you angels
He'd known two angels in his life. One was fleeting, a few months of vitality and fascination, a few seconds of heaven. The other was eternal, his other half.
Now the figure has a bell
The angel of his awakening had a voice that rang clear, piercing his very being with emotion, drawing him like a magnet into it's aura of promise, of life. She was a divine mystery, a journey of discovery, a soothing balm on his troubled soul. She had spirit, accepted nothing at face value, and challenged him to do and be the same. He wanted that; he wanted her. But there came a time when that light dimmed, and she turned from him with a finality that he himself could never achieve. From her he learned endurance, intensity, and strength. The strength to do what must be done regardless of his own desires, wants, or needs. The strength to persevere in the face of powerful enemies, and despite overwhelming odds.
The strength to follow his destiny to its bitter end.
And lover's war with arrows over secrets they can tell
The angel of his darkening knew him like no other, completed him, absorbed him until he no longer held separate identity. Their minds worked as one; she knew what he would do or say before he did, making them a formidable fighting team. When she fell, saving his and his leader's lives, he felt the loss as if a part of him had been ripped away. But he was able to move on, to maintain focus as she had taught him; if he had lost a limb he would have adapted. And so he adapted, compensated for her absence.
As the last of her life energy flowed out of her onto the desert scrub, he held her, taking her energy and melding it with and into his own, increasing his own tenfold. When she was still he raised his head and an entire battlefield of warriors fell as dust.
They tried to tame you, looks like they'll try again
None could control him anymore; he worked alone, checking in with the king on occasion but not for orders. Never for orders. Theirs was a harsh alliance, a bond formed in friendship but set in blood.
Wild boys never lose it
He couldn't afford to lose that focus.
Wild boys never chose this way
He had given up his protests years ago; this was his destiny, his life. He knew no other.
Wild boys never close your eyes
He never let his guard down, forced himself and those around himself to be alert at all times, punishing weakness swiftly and without mercy.
Wild boys always shine
He met with his king and brother - alone. Together, the two of them looked over the desert that used to seem so big, so overwhelming. Together, the two of them walked the dusty road that had meaning only a handful of people on this world would understand. They held the ashes of two of them.
But they returned.
Victorious.
The End
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