God Can Explain

Author: Margarita

Email: margarita782

Category: Alex angst, UC

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing Roswell-related belongs to me. It's the work of wonderful people like Jason Katims. "I Think God Can Explain" is by Splender. I do not own the lyrics.

Summery: Alex thinks about someone.

Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone who commented on my work. Please review! J

She smiled at him the day he left. Oh, that was a colossal thing in his book. He smirked. He was pathetic. Get over her, man! She'll never want you.

There's a lot of things I understand and there's a lot of things that I don't want to know.

He wondered what she thought of him. Sometimes, when the light fell just the right way, he swore he saw something in her eyes. Longing? Regret? He wished he knew.

But you're the only face I recognize. It's so damn sweet of you to look me in the eyes.

He loved her hair, the way it glided over her shoulders and rested around her neck. It was trite, but watching her, he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it. He swore he'd die a happy man if he had that much. He sighed. He was in Sweden, for God's sake. Gorgeous blondes – some of whom were even interested in him – surrounded him and all he could do was think of her. Think, and wish, and mope.

It's all right. I'm ok. I think God can explain. I'm believe I'm the same – I get carried away.

There was nothing to do in Sweden, not where it snowed and it was cold. That was one thing he couldn't get used to, the cold. Growing up in Roswell did that to you, he supposed. And then there was the snow, so much that his legs sank into it up to his knees every time he left the house. He had never learned to ski, either, and that was all that there was to do here. This country lacked everything.

It's all right. I'm ok. I think God can explain. I'm relieved, I'm relaxed. I'll get over it yet.

He had sent her a Christmas present. He had no idea what she'd say when he returned – they were only friends – but he didn't really care. He hoped that she had had a perfect holiday. He knew she couldn't stand anything that wasn't perfect. He thought that maybe that was why she never thought of him the way he thought of her. He was far from perfect. All he wanted to do was love her, but wasn't that abnormal? It certainly wasn't what she was looking for.

The scent of vaseline in the summertime, the feel of an ice cube melting over time.

God, love was painful. He couldn't help it. Sometimes he hated himself for taking her abuse. Maria had told him many times that he didn't deserve it, that he was better than that. But it didn't matter. Hard as he tried, he couldn't stay mad at her. He would do anything for her, and forgiving her was simple enough. And hadn't he? Even when she refused to tell him her secret? Even when he watched the way that she looked at another man? It simply wasn't fair. And lying there on his bed, he knew it was the truth.

Well, the world seems bigger than both of us yet it seems so small when I begin to cry.

He hated tears. He had always been told that tears were signs of weakness and although he thought that was bullshit, he felt so vulnerable whenever he cried. Men didn't cry. A tear slipped down his cheek anyway. He wiped it away angrily and then stood up, deciding to go for a walk. It would help to clear his thoughts. He put on his jacket and stepped outside into the sharp, cold air.

It's all right. I'm ok. I think God can explain. I'm believe I'm the same – I get carried away. It's all right. I'm ok. I think God can explain. I'm relieved, I'm relaxed. I'll get over it yet.

He walked down the street and into the small forest, his cheeks bright red from the cold. He walked determinedly, his head hung. He hurried up the mountain until he found the clearing that he had discovered the first day that they had arrived. He walked to a familiar rock and sat, drinking in air.

I'm so much better than you guessed. I'm so much bigger than you guessed. I'm so much brighter than you guessed.

He smiled slightly and ran his fingers over the fresh scars in a nearby tree. He detested destroying nature, but this had made her closer during those long weeks. He took his knife from his pocket and opened it, using the sharpened blade to deepen the cuts he had already made into the wood.

It's all right. I'm ok. I think God can explain. I'm believe I'm the same – I get carried away.

He stood then, brushing wooden shavings off of his pants and caressing the initials he had carved into the tree. Then, with one last glance, he walked out of the clearing. He was leaving today, heading back to Roswell. He didn't know if she would feel any differently for him, but he hadn't given up hope. Someday she would, he thought, someday.

It's all right. I'm ok. I think God can explain. I'm relieved, I'm relaxed. I'll get off of your back.

He beamed as he walked out of the forest, for he knew that he would always be with her, somewhere. Sunlight reflected off of the marks in the tree, and the new wood filled the air with the deep scent of pine. The initials stood out, cut deeply: A.W. + E.P.

I think God can explain.