To Have and to Hold (UC, I/Sheriff, TEEN) 1/1 Complete

[Valentine]

Title: "To Have and to Hold"

Pairing/Characters: Isabel/Jim Valenti
Rating: TEEN
Theme: Angst
Spoilers/Time Frame: This occurs RIGHT after "Surprise." (Season two, Isabel's birthday party when she has to save Tess, and discovers the Granilith.
Summary: Isabel deals with what she did to the Congresswoman, and Jim is there to help.
Part/s: Part one of one.

Author: Valentine (aka BrendansBabe)
E-mail: orange.words@gmail.com
Website/Blog: Livejournal
Other Fanfiction: Listing

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all concerning Roswell and all its copyrights.
Feedback: I love feedback! Let me know what you like, and what you hate.
Distribution: Feel free! Just ask first, pretty please.





She went to see him that night, still covered in soot and bits of ash. The other three would have to wait to learn about the Granilith. She had more important things to do.

When he had shown up hours before to "rescue Tess," she had been angry. Actually, she had been jealous. She had been jealous that he hadn't come to rescue her.

She was too strong for rescuing, the unflappable ice princess.

She wasn't the one he carried to his car, and she wasn't the one that he drove home... drove to his home.

Alone, she had run off to the caves, to be in the pod chamber. She had run off to scream at her mother... her mother who was probably dead. She had run when all she wanted was to be held.

Held by him.

When her voice was horse from screaming, and her face was raw from crying, she went to him.

He was the only one at the station that night, most likely as reluctant to sleep as she was.

She let herself in, walking barefoot down the hallway.

It wasn't until her feet touched the cold tile of the floor did she realize that they were scraped and raw. Adrenaline couldn't save her now, and her shoes were still sitting next to the fence that she had broken in through to get to Tess.

She grimaced, but kept going.

Past the front desk.

Past the offices of the deputies.

Past the cleaning closet.

His desk had a green lamp on it, one of those old-fashioned pull-string operated gadgets. It was the only lamp in his office that was on, so it cast a greenish glow onto the ceiling. He was staring at the papers in front of him, his hands clasped beneath his chin.

He seemed calm, though few would have called him peaceful, least of all her.

She felt self-conscious suddenly. Her dress was torn and filthy, and she knew her face matched it.

She could turn around. He hadn't heard her, so absorbed in his own world was he.

She could leave.

She placed her palm flat against the window pane of his closed door. Her index finger covered part of the stenciled name. As if on it's own accord, her finger traced the rest of letters written there. Once she reached the end, the last "i," she paused.

Something drew her eyes back to the man seated at the desk.

His eyes.

He regarded her silently, his gaze open and undemanding, but not curious.

Some could call it knowing.

She lifted her hand off of the glass, and dropped it to the doorknob.

He made no movement, no indication of if he wanted her to stay or go.

She gave the cool brass knob a solid twist, and with a neat click, the door swept open. Sliding into the room, she never took her eyes off of him.

As an afterthought, the door fell closed on it's own accord.

"Isabel."

His voice was softer than she normally heard it. He had no one to shout at, nothing to laugh at.

There was only her.

Suddenly, Isabel was unsure of what to do with her hands. Clasped behind or in front, they were in the way. They made her feel awkward, as though she had something to hide.

"I wanted... I just wanted..."

He dropped his own hands to his lap, pulling back from the desk and it's soft green glow.

"Sheriff... Jim... I just wanted you to..."

She couldn't believe she was asking this.

"I just wanted you to hold me."

She let it out in an embarrassed rush, pretending to find the floor and her chipped toe-nail polish more fascinating than the solid blue gaze of his eyes.

It was a strange request, there was no denying that. Despite the oddity of the situation, however, Jim seemed only slightly surprised by the question.

"Why?"

She looked at him like he had killed her with his one-worded question. She took a step forward, simultaneously deciding that her hands were most effective when not clasped at all.

"Why?"

She threw his question back at him, tears rising to her eyes. Trying to compose herself, she smoothed her hair away from her face, while her other fist gripped the skirt of her dress.

"Because Max scares me, and Michael doesn't understand. Because I killed a woman, and I don't know what to do. Because, apparently, I'm the reincarnated form of an alien bitch who sold her family out for a FUCKING LOVER."

The second that her voice began to rise, he had leapt to his feet, closing the distance between them in seconds. By the time she was on "reincarnated," his arms her around her, holding her close against him.

She sobbed quietly against his chest, holding him tight to her.

When she had quieted somewhat, he drew her down to the couch with him.

"Isabel."

She sniffled, burying her face deeper into the fabric of his shirt.

"I wasn't asking why you wanted to be held, though that reincarnated bit went a bit over my head, I was asking why... I was asking why you want me to hold you."

She quieted against him, pulling away in order to meet his eyes.

His honest, confused, loving, knowing and bewitching ice blue eyes.

"Because, Jim, you see me. You always know when I'm in trouble, in a bad mood, lying, hiding... you know it all. I can see it in your face. You're never fooled by any facade I put up, you can always see straight through me, all the way into my bones and my blood."

She paused, wetting her chapped lips.

"You see the alien, and you see the human. You understand both parts of me and don't expect me to be more of one than the other. You just... accept me. No one else in my life does that."

She let out a short laugh, more self-conscious than anything else.

They sat like that for a moment, in limbo. She could pull away, and walk out of his office. He could stand, and return to his desk. They could treat this night as simply a minute chink in the ice princess' armor.

But he looked at her, at her smudged eye-makeup and her tear-stained cheeks, and he made a choice.

He pulled her back against him, and she went with relief. Lifting her legs over his, he cradled her in his lap, protecting her from whatever big and bad might lie outside of his door, or even inside of her own mind.

"I won't let you go, Isabel."

He held her in the way that Max couldn't and Michael wouldn't. He let her nod off against his chest, and listened to her breathing even out.

The red silk of her dress pressed close to the blue denim of his shirt, each complimenting the other in a strangely perfect way.

Beneath her tired eyes and her dirty party dress, Isabel was beautiful.

She was beautiful, and she was his.

His to protect, his to understand and his to love.

With a soft smile, Jim brushed his lips against her temple before closing his eyes and falling asleep himself.

Denim and silk.

To have and to hold.