Author: AuroraDawn
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post Invasion Fic, set several years after Departure, so no Season 3. This is a follow up to my previous fic Illusions.
Improv: common- velvet- peppermint- sharp
Distribution: Kingdom of Tula, Roswell Desert Skies, all others just ask!
Summary: Faced with the reality of Maria's return, Michael struggles to understand.

Thanks to everyone who feedbacked me on Illusions. I really appreciated it. Please let me know if this is a good follow up!



I should have known it was going to be one of those nights. Maria's been moving away from me since dinner. She won't meet my eyes, won't say anything. Hell, the sweat that covers my body isn't even dry, and she's already leaving our bed. We are both silent as she dresses in the stream of moonlight that comes through the open bedroom window. Her movements are jerky and uncoordinated as she pulls on her worn jeans and ragged t-shirt and I wonder if I really do see her hands tremble.

Maybe I imagine the regret in her green eyes as she raises them to briefly meet mine, but I don't know. I can't read her as well as I once used to. She slips quickly from our room, her footsteps echoing slightly as they hit the warped wood floor of the hallway. I wait, listening for the sound of the back screen door creaking. It does, and minutes later there is the fainter, more distant sound of another door closing.

Knowing Kyle will follow her at a discreet distance, but stay close enough to keep her safe, I lie back on the bed and close my eyes. The tangled bed sheet I'm grasping in my hand comes loose from the foot of the bed with a loud tear, but that doesn't stop the shaking in my arms. It's not her fault that she has to leave. It's not her fault that she pulls away from me like this. I have to give her space, give her time to be alone. I have to be patient.

I repeat the words to myself, several times, but somehow the mantra doesn't soothe me. Doesn't take the edge off the white-hot anger burning inside of me. Then again, it never really does.

This isn't what I dreamed about when she was gone. I thought that when she finally returned, we'd fall back into the way we were. She'd come striding up the drive and throw herself into my arms with a big smile and bedroom kisses. There'd be happiness and I'd feel complete again with her beside me. We'd talk about what happened, she'd let me heal her scars, and we'd put it behind us. I can't believe I was that stupid.

Maria's been back for four months, and we haven't put anything behind us. How can we when she won't talk about it? God, she's got stonewalls that could rival mine. I pound at them, asking her what happened when she was gone and trying to read between the lines when she does talk. The only thing I've learned is that punching holes in walls does nothing to ease my frustration.

Throwing off the cotton sheet that covers me, I let the cool night air drift over my naked body. The wind carries a fine layer of dust that will settle over me like powder, but after living in the dirt for weeks at a time when we were fighting, a little dust is nothing. Maria doesn't complain about it, but I've seen her wiping absently at her cheek as though to brush it off.

It's Maria's body language that tells me things she doesn't want to reveal. It tells me that the scar on her arm, that twisting line that snakes up towards her elbow, is off limits. Forbidden territory. Every time I touch it, she freezes up, stiffens her shoulders and shuts me out. If I forget and brush over it when we're in bed together, when we're making love, she retreats into the place where I can't see her. Can't see the Maria I knew.

For the first couple weeks after she returned, I let her make the moves, let her come to me. And she always did. If she was hesitant when we were together, I chalked it up to time apart. The war has changed us all and we had both been through a lot. If I thought she sometimes wasn't there, emotionally, I chalked it up to my old paranoia's. My old fear that she didn't love me the way I loved her. Then she started to leave our bed after we made love. Not all the time, but at least half. She always waited until she thought I was asleep.

We were sitting on the back porch one night when I finally asked her, point blank, if she'd been raped. It's not like I haven't seen it before, haven't seen the ravages of war, or how revenge can drive men to that kind of thing. During the fighting, Kyle and I had to stop a group of human men from trying to rape an alien girl they had captured. I still dream about it sometimes and putting that word, linking that memory with Maria, I could hardly get it out. She didn't seem to notice though. Hell, she didn't even react. She only looked away, her body tense as she shook her head. No, she said to me, I wasn't raped.

Even now, I can't believe she lied to me. When she said it, I wanted to believe her. I didn't argue with her or challenge her. But the more she pulled away from me, and the more she didn't say, the angrier I got. I thought she trusted me. I thought what we had together meant more than that to her. Maybe she was worried I'd be disgusted, or ashamed of her for what happened. Maybe she thought I'd send her away if I knew the truth.

Why doesn't she see that none of it was her fault? Not the rape, not the pain she still suffers through, none of that was her fault. Not even the rage I try to hide from her is her fault. All the blame belongs to the man who did it to her. The man who thought he could just take from her what he wanted.

The man who hurt her.

I just wish she'd tell me who he is and what he did to her. Tell me if it was Khivar. Then at least I'd have someone to picture when I destroy the walls. Then at least I could try and make it better instead of fumbling in the dark and hurting her more.

Pushing away thoughts of my incompetence, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up, my head in my hands. The room spins briefly, reminding me I'm still drained from what we just did. Maria pushed things tonight. Pushed me to free the wildness that hides just under my skin. We've played power games before, games of give and take where there aren't any losers. But since she's come back there's been a new edge to them, a greater need to take control and a greater need to lose it. A need I don't understand. Especially considering what happened to her. 

It was that way tonight. She teased me with her fingers and her lips but refused to let me have release. Pushing and pushing until finally I forgot what she'd been through and pushed back. I tumbled her down onto our bed and took her with less than my usual grace, driving into her and possessing her body. Marking her mine with my mouth and my hands. Through it all, she didn't protest, didn't fight me. She only stared at me with those witchy green eyes of hers. Stared through me.

I hate that distant look. Hate that she wears it when we're that close. Almost as much as I hate not knowing exactly why. 

Licking my dry lips, I taste the salty, metallic tang of blood and realize that it must have come from Maria. If I've missed all the other signs, I know she's unsettled by the way she bites her lip until it bleeds. Almost as though she's using the pain as a focus or a source of strength. It really does work. God knows I've done it enough. I just never expected her to do it with me. Absently, I wipe my fingers over my mouth and wonder if she did it with him. I wonder if he liked it, liked the taste of her blood in his mouth.

The potted plant on the dresser explodes in a fury of terra cotta shards, and I reflexively duck, cursing my lack of control. I shouldn't think about it. Shouldn't dwell on what happened to her. It only makes the anger boil out in destructive ways. But how am I supposed to forget it when I see the pain on her face nearly every day. How am I supposed to forget it when she crawls out of our bed and sneaks into the desert because she can't stand my touch any longer?

Lifting my head, I glance around the sparsely furnished room we share, reassuring myself with the sight of her velvet hairband on the dresser and her dirty hiking boots by the door. Half the time I wake up alone and think I've dreamed her return again. I used to roll over in the night and swear the bed was warm where she should have been sleeping, or that I could smell her scent on the pillow next to me. Sometimes I'm still not sure. She moves through here like a ghost.

Unable to stay in this empty room any longer, I push myself out of bed and slowly pull on my stained fatigue pants, shaking off the loose black dirt that covers them. She's going to kill me for destroying her plant. It's the first thing she's gotten to grow out here. But there's no way I can get it back together before she returns. I can't calm down enough for that to happen. Following her is impossible, so I leave my boots in the room and walk barefoot through the small house to the back porch.

There's a full moon out tonight, hanging high over the jagged peak of the mountains in the west. Part of me is thankful that it provides so much light. At least I won't have to worry about Maria falling off a ridge because she can't see where she is going. That doesn't do a lot to ease my knotted stomach, though, because I know she'll only stay out later.

Leaning against the wooden railing that encircles the porch, I stare out at the desert, absently rubbing the scar over my heart. It's beautiful here, especially at night when the stars seem to come right down onto the vast stretch of sand and scrub brush. Because the town lies on the other side of the house, there are few lights to shatter the illusion.  Usually the quiet darkness brings me some measure of peace. At least it used to. But not tonight, not while Maria is out there somewhere.

I've spent too many nights staring up at the sky and wondering where the hell she was or if she was even alive. Max, Isabel and Kyle all tried to make me accept that she was gone. It was the realistic thing to do, to accept it. We'd searched for weeks with no luck, tracked down every possible lead and still found no trace of her. Every time Isabel or Max found me at those rocks, staring at where her blood had spilled over the ground, they reminded me that there was a chance she hadn't survived the attack. I ignored them. It didn't really matter what they said, because I knew all I had to do was wait and keep looking and eventually we'd find each other.

We did. Surprising us all, she walked up the long driveway one late afternoon with Tess beside her. Just like I'd dreamed it. I almost didn't recognize her at first, her hair was dark and she was so god awful thin. But when I looked in her vibrant green eyes, I knew it was Maria. She shrieked with laughter when I grabbed her into my arms and swung her around. She laughed even harder when Kyle yanked her away from me and did the same thing.

Frowning, I realize that was the last time I heard that carefree laugh from Maria. She doesn't like me grabbing her spontaneously either. The sudden cracking of the aged wooden railing leaves splinters in my hand, so I bring my palm up to my mouth and suck them out, ignoring the taste of my blood as I take a deep breath.

That first night she was back was great. We stayed up for hours, just talking and laughing and touching.  Kyle and I let her gloss over what exactly had happened because we were so damn happy she was finally home. We accepted it when she told us that she'd gone out into the desert that night for a walk and had been caught off guard. Our enemies had taken her and when Khivar died and the war began to slow down, she'd finally escaped. It was what we thought had happened, so the only thing that surprised us was her insistence on Tess staying with us.

Remembering what had happened with Alex, the way Tess had tried to betray us all, I refused. I didn't want her in my house or anywhere near the people I cared about. Kyle agreed with me, but I knew he was torn. Kyle and Ava had gotten very close when the punk girl joined us in the fight, and I know he saw her in Tess. But Maria stood her ground and made it clear she and Tess were a package deal. If Tess couldn't stay, she wasn't going to either.

When she put it that way, Kyle and I had no choice but to reluctantly agree. I wasn't going to let Maria leave, not when I'd just gotten her back. That doesn't mean I have to like having Tess here. That doesn't mean I have to talk to her. After four months of her living in Kyle's house, we're as much strangers as we ever were. She doesn't ask me about Max and Isabel, and I don't ask her about her absent son.

Glancing over at Kyle's house, I'm not surprised to find Tess sitting on the back porch step, her chin in her hands as she stares out at the desert. We both end up here on these nights, waiting for Maria to return. That's another reason for me to dislike Tess. She's the first person Maria goes to when she comes home after her late night walks.

Tess holds too many of Maria's secrets. They've never confirmed it, but I know she was with Maria before they escaped. Sometimes they'll slip in conversation, or Kyle and I will realize both of them have said the same thing about what happened. Because Tess holds Maria's secrets, she also has the answers I want. I haven't asked her though, if only because Maria would see it as a betrayal. Maybe I've just been waiting for Maria to tell me herself.

But I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of waking up alone in the middle of the night, of watching Maria flinch when I do something wrong. Something she won't tell me how to fix. I'm tired of Maria kissing my cheek, my forehead, anywhere but my lips. I'm sick of being in the dark. Of being overwhelmed with the need to destroy the man who hurt her. The man who raped her.

I want to kill him. I want to let the power course through me and flash out like it did with Pierce. This time I don't think the guilt over taking a life would keep me up at night. I know it wouldn't.  Part of me wants to take my time with it, drawing out the pain and suffering until he's begun to pay for how he hurt Maria. The other part of me just wants to make it fast, quick and merciless justice.

I can't do it, though. I can't do it because if it is Khivar, he's already dead. Somebody else beat me to it. But if it isn't Khivar, I need to know and Maria won't tell me. But Tess will.

Pushing away from the unsteady railing, I stride across the small yard to Kyle's house. The old single story houses are no more than a couple hundred feet apart, but that was one of the reasons why we settled here. After fighting side-by-side and living in each other's shadow for almost a year, we both needed space to ourselves. But what neither one of us will admit is that we need someone we trust close by, someone who knows what's happened.

The fine grain dust of the desert coats my feet as I approach her, and Tess glances up briefly as I sit next to her on the long wooden step. She doesn't say anything, only scoots over a little to make room for me. We're both silent as the night wraps around us and for a long while, we stare out at the dark horizon. 

Times like this, I miss Isabel. Maria would have talked to her about what happened. The two of them had developed a quiet friendship in the days after Liz was taken. Even Max could have gotten past her walls. But the three of us live apart, for safety as much as anything. Khivar may be dead, but that doesn't mean we are without enemies. Although we are stronger together, we are also more vulnerable. It would be too easy to wipe out the entire royal house of Antar in one blow.

That doesn't mean I'm sending Tess away, though. No matter how much I don't like her. I'm not taking the chance of Maria going with her. Looking up, I can see the moon has hit its crest and is beginning to slide down towards the horizon.  Knowing my time is running out, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It doesn't help, so I just go ahead with it.

"You were with Khivar."

Tess turns her head quickly at the sound of my voice, as though startled. Her blue eyes are wide, but I'm not fooled.

"Don't act surprised Tess. You knew Kyle would tell me."

She tilts her head and shrugs slightly before turning away again. Her voice is quiet, but resigned when she speaks.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Maria was with Khivar."

It's not a question, but Tess shakes her head anyway. Her shoulders go back and she sits up a little straighter, as though bracing herself for a battle.

"She doesn't want me talking about that."

"So."  I bite out, past history seeping through. "We all know you've never been one for loyalty Tess."

She doesn't respond to my harsh tone, doesn't even back down, which is more than I gave her credit for. Instead, she responds with a firmness that surprises me.

"This is different. I owe Maria"

"So tell me. I'm asking because I'm trying to help her."

"Really? You're not trying to make yourself feel better?"

Her stare is uncompromising, and after a moment I turn away, feeling the sting of her truthful words. Maria hurts, and because she does, so do I. Every time she flinches away, my gut twists on itself. Neither of us can sleep through the night undisturbed. But I'm not selfish, not with this. I can make it better for her if I know what happened. And yeah, it'll be better for me too, but that's secondary. There's a small pile of stones on the edge of the porch, and I pick up one, turning it over in my hand as I try to find a better approach.

Tess is silent again, but after I've flung two stones far out into the night with barely repressed violence, she sighs heavily. She's leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, and her gaze doesn't leave the desert as she begins to speak in a quiet voice I almost have to strain to hear.

"Have you ever looked at Maria and wondered if it was really her?"

"What do you mean?" I frown, but try to keep my voice level as I contemplate the rough edged stone in my hand.

"Don't you wonder if she's still the Maria you used to know? Like you look at her and think there's something different, but you can't figure out what."

"Sometimes."

"But you still chose to be with her. You still take her into your bed, and kiss her over breakfast. You still try to keep her from getting hurt."

I shrug, unsure where Tess is going with this.  Even though I know Maria's changed since she's been gone, she's still the same woman I fell in love with. That hasn't changed. I may not know what's going on in her head, what memories are haunting her, but I know it's her in there. I would know if it wasn't. Somehow I would know.

Tess falls silent again and I grit my teeth at her delaying. Pulling my arm back, I let the third rock sail into the night. This time it explodes into a shower of tiny fragments before it hits the ground. Strangely enough, it makes me feel a little better so I pick up another one and repeat my action.

After the second explosion, Tess looks up from picking at the fray on her cutoff shorts. I wonder if she remembers how she taught me to harness this power and all the rocks we shattered in my living room. I send another rock out, but before I can explode it, it reverses course and comes flying back at us. Instinctively I shift to the left, but Tess only reaches out her hand to catch it.

There's a teasing smile on her face as she holds out the rock to me, and that's when I know she was the one who boomeranged it. For a split second, time shifts and we're back in that crowded apartment together. Just two teenagers trying to figure out what they are. But it passes when our eyes meet and I see the hurt that lurks behinds Tess's blue gaze. All I can think is that it's the same look I've seen in Maria's face before. Remembrance, pain, and an unhealthy streak of fear. 

We both look away, uncomfortable with what's been shared. Or maybe the fact that this is the most time we've spent together since she returned. Tess shifts a little further from me and wraps her arms tight around her middle before speaking again.

"Khivar was a shapeshifter."

"Like Nacedo?"

She nods, her unbound blond hair falling over her shoulders. "Exactly like Nacedo."

It's not a big revelation because we'd heard the rumors. Hell, even Liz had rambled about that after he returned her the first time. It makes sense that both men would share the same type of powers since they were both full alien. Not like us. The ability to shape shift would be useful to have. You could slip in and out unnoticed. Make a raid without anyone realizing you had been there. Sit in on top staff meetings because you looked like you belonged. You could be anybody you needed to be.

For a second, my brain freezes up, locked on that last thought. When the images that are flashing through my mind finally stop, I turn my head to look at Tess.

"If Khivar was a shapeshifter, who was he when he was with you?"

"With me?" Tess doesn't look up at the serious tone of my voice. Instead, she picks at the fray on her shorts as she slowly continues, as though carefully selecting her words. "With me he was just some random guy. Nobody I really knew. Just some guy."

She's lying. The way she won't meet my eyes tells me she's hiding something. I turn her words over in my mind, hearing again her emphasis on 'me.' The stone in my hand disintegrates into a fine powder that spills out of my fist and over my pants.

"I know he raped her Tess."

This time the startled look in her eyes isn't faked.

"Maria told you that?"

"She didn't have to, I can see it." I don't dwell on Tess's confirmation, its not really important. Instead, I pick up another rock, a bigger one this time.  "I know she was raped Tess. And if Khivar had her, he hated us enough to make sure he was the one who did it."

When Tess only meets my assertion with silence, I glance over at her, surprised to see her head is bowed. I nudge her with the edge of my knee to get her attention, totally unprepared for the way she jumps and pulls away from me. Just like Maria does when I catch her off guard. But Tess shakes it off quicker, the wildness in her eyes fading so quickly I can't be sure I actually saw it.

Pushing aside the coincidence, I nonetheless shift closer to my side of the porch.

"Who was he with Maria?"

Tess is already shaking her head, as though knowing that would be my next question.

"You know I can't talk about that."

"Why the hell not? Why the hell are you and Maria shutting me out and refusing to talk about what happened with him?"

"Why do you have to know?" She fires back, her tone rising to match mine.

"Because I can't fix it for her until I know what happened." Caught up in the argument, I forget to watch my words.

"What are you going to do Michael? He's dead. You can't bring him back and make him sorry."

"God dammit, I know that."

Flying off the step, I stalk back and forth in front of the porch. The power surging inside of me makes me shake with the effort of keeping it controlled. So I lash out the only way I can, shouting at Tess with all the anger I can't bottle up.

"Do you think I like watching her cry? Do you think I like the way she pulls away from me? Or how about the fact that she can't go a single night without a nightmare? And nothing I do makes it right because I don't know what happened."

The large rock formation to my left explodes in a fury of sound and I instinctively crouch down with my back to it, my eyes closing in protection. Dimly I'm aware of Tess's shocked cry, but not until the sharp, pulverized pieces of stone quit raining down do I stand up.

"What the hell's going on?"

Tess and I both turn at the sound of Kyle's quickly approaching voice. As he stares at the disaster I created, his stunned expression is almost a mirror of Tess'. With my mind vibrating from the explosion of power, I can only look at him. Tess is quicker though and shakes her head as though to forestall his questions. She manages to ask what we're both wondering.

"Where's Maria?"

"About five minutes behind me. You're lucky she didn't hear you yelling."

"Yeah."

When that's the only word I can form, I turn to take my out of control emotions back to the house, but Tess stands up and asks me to wait.

From his position on the porch steps, Kyle looks confused, but she only kisses his mouth briefly and pushes him into house. Glancing quickly into the desert, she beckons me closer with a rapid flick of her hand. Somehow my feet take the initiative and I find myself standing before her at the bottom of the porch steps. With her on the top step she is actually eye level with me, and in those blue depths I can see resignation.

"Maria's lucky to have someone who loves her so much."

I don't respond, only rake my hand through my too long hair, rock fragments scattering as I do. There's a sad smile on her face as Tess leans forward and brushes the dust off my shoulders.

"Maria stood between Khivar and I too many times. She put herself at risk to keep me from getting hurt. She could have left me behind when she escaped, but she didn't.  I owe her for that, so I promised I wouldn't say a word about what happened. I promised that I'd keep it a secret from everyone. Especially you."

A deep considering breath, then Tess speaks again. Her words are quiet but strong.

"What happened to Maria, what Khivar did to her, those are things she won't ever tell you Michael. She doesn't want to hurt you that way. But if it comes down to a choice between keeping Maria's secret and letting her suffer, or telling you and letting you suffer, I'll choose you every time."

I open my mouth to speak, but Tess shakes her head again and touches her finger to my lips to stop the words. 

"I'm sorry, Michael."

Because I am still caught up in her words, I don't see her lean towards me. I only feel the tiny electric spark as her lips touch mine. Shocked into paralysis, I don't stop her from pulling me closer as she deepens the kiss. Her tongue tangles against mine and the flashing, Technicolor images crash over me.

Maria straddling my body, her eyes closed tight, her face set in a grimace as I grasp her scarred arm in my hand.
Maria crouched down next to a wall, her face bruised and bleeding as I stand over her shirtless and smiling.
Maria singing softly as I lean forward in the tub so she can wipe a damp cloth over my bare skin.
Maria's eyes hard and cold as she raises a large knife above her head, then brings it down and impales it fiercely into my naked back, holding it there as I twitch and thrash.
Maria's hands covered in bright red blood.
Maria sobbing as Tess lays her hands on my head and forces a surge of power between them, finishing the job Maria started.

I feel my knees buckle and Tess shoves me away before I take us both down. Grasping the railing, I manage to stay upright, but just barely. Tess glances quickly beyond me to the desert again, then pushes at me hard to force me out of my stupor.

"Go home. Now, before she sees you."

She turns and disappears into Kyle's house and somehow I stumble back across the yard and onto my porch. At the back steps I pause to be violently sick, heaving what's left of my dinner into the rocks. It doesn't stop the images, though.

Khivar raped Maria. He raped her, and beat her, and brutalized her, and he did it wearing my face. The man who's responsible for all the hell she's going through, looks like me.

I lurch through the house to the bathroom and fall to my knees in front of the toilet, my stomach spasming as it tries to expel the pain in my gut. Moving to the sink, I splash lukewarm water over my face but it does nothing to stop my shaking. Peppermint oil toothpaste doesn't take the sour taste from my mouth, and when I look up and see my face in the mirror, I want to throw up again. Instead, I shatter the mirror, fracturing my image.

Our bed is cold and empty when I crawl weakly onto the mattress and curl up on myself. Maria's pillow still smells like her, and I clutch it close to my chest as I stare at the bars of moonlight that fall across our floor. But even that pale white light can't wipe out the images Tess gave me.

How can she let me touch her? How can she sleep next to me in this little bed where there's barely room for two people? Every time she turns over in the night and sees me, she sees him. Every time I cover her with my body, she remembers when he did it. She hurts because of me.

I realize the pillow beneath my head is wet before I recognize the tears on my cheek. Maria seems to be the only one who can bring me to tears this way. The ache in my gut fades in comparison to the tearing in my chest as I realize what I have to do.

I have to leave her. How can I stay and continue to hurt her this way? I love her too much.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, I clutch her pillow tighter. I can do it. I've done it twice before and it didn't kill me, even if I thought it would at the time. This won't be any different. Besides, I'm stronger now. I've already lost her once. I'll just pretend these last four months never happened. I'll shut them away and forget about them.

I have to leave Saturday for an extended trip to check on the fighting and the rebuilding. It'll be easy to just keep traveling. The four of us, Max, Isabel, Ava and myself, decided to each take charge of a different region of the country. The southwest is my responsibility, and although Kyle normally goes with me, I'll have to find some way to make him stay. It shouldn't be too hard, especially if I can convince him someone needs to be here to take care of Tess and Maria.

Beyond making him stay, there's a lot to get done before I go. Kyle has the deed to this house hidden away somewhere. If I list Maria as my common-law wife, she can take ownership. Kyle will need to know where I've been putting away my money, so he can access it for her. She'll be able to survive without me. There will have to be a note, or something for Maria. I know Tess won't explain it to her. Doing so would only implicate herself. No matter what happens, though, I know Kyle will be there for her. 

Thinking of Tess makes the flashes play through my mind again with more clarity than I want. The trembling in my body stops as I replay the image of Maria singing softly as she bathes me. Bathes him. Blood fills my mouth as I bite my tongue at the slip. Maria only sings when she's content, when she's at peace with things. She hasn't done it since she's come back, and it makes no sense for her to be singing like that for him. Not with everything he did to her. Unless...

Oh God, what if she didn't know? What if she thought it was me? What if she thought I was the one hitting her, and forcing her?

I don't make it to the bathroom this time. The heaves take me down halfway there. But it's okay because there's nothing left inside of me. I'm empty. All I can do is lay here on the floor, the worn carpet pressing against my cheek, and ache. She had to know it wasn't me. She had to know. Why would she have come back? Why would she have killed him?

I have no idea how long I lay here, unable to move. I'm so fucking confused. All I know is that Maria hurts because of me. Khivar brutalized her and made her look at my face when he did it.  I can't fix that by killing Khivar or someone else in his place. The only thing to do is leave. That way she doesn't have to live with the daily reminder of her time in hell.

The loud creak of the back screen door finally stirs me out of my daze and I push myself off the floor and crawl back into our bed. Maria's footsteps echo softly on the wooden hallway floor and by the time she pauses in our doorway, I've managed to get the covers back on the bed and the tears off my face.

In that moment of hesitation, I search her face and her body language for any clues. But she's still hiding as she slips out of her clothes, letting them fall to the floor before she lifts the sheet and slides in next to me. For a moment our eyes meet, and she surprises me by reaching up and smoothing her finger over my eyebrow and the barely visible scar there.

Acting on impulse, I gently grasp her uplifted elbow and tip my head so that I can place my lips softly on that raised scar on her forearm. It's an even greater surprise when she doesn't automatically pull away from me. Instead, when I raise my head, there is the barest trace of a smile on her lips.

The pain in my chest returns, but this time it doesn't seem to hurt as bad. More a dull throbbing. Shoving the damp pillow under my head, I lay back and feel it ease even more when Maria lets her head rest on my chest. Normally she sleeps turned away from me, only in the night when she's fast asleep does she embrace me. Tugging up the covers around us, I slowly let out the breath I've been holding.

"Will you cut my hair tomorrow? Short, like it was in high school."

I don't know where the words come from, and there's an obvious hesitation before Maria replies. I wonder if she's thinking about him. His hair was long. Hell, it was my hair.

"Why?"

It's uttered quietly, almost a whisper and I swallow hard, closing my eyes to block out the images that one word brings.

"I don't like the way I look."

She raises her head just a little at the vehement words and in the pale moonlight, I can see confusion in her eyes. Knowing I can't hide much from her tonight, I look away until she finally lowers her gaze again.

"Okay."

I let my eyes fall closed at the single word. I don't know what I would have said if she'd pushed for a different answer. I'm not strong enough to protect her from everything I'm feeling. Things are too close to the surface and my control is shot. So I'm thankful that she only settles herself against me, her long legs tangling with mine under the torn sheet.

For several minutes we lay there in silence. Several thick strands of Maria's hair have fallen over my hand, but I leave my grip open. Tangling my fingers in her hair is another forbidden thing, and I feel my heart stutter as it hits me why.

"How long will you be gone on your trip North?"

Her breath is warm against the bare skin of my chest, but her words send a chill racing through my veins. Suddenly, the world narrows to this bed, to the two of us entwined here. Maria's hand is tracing lazy, absent patterns against my side. Mine is pressed lightly to the small of her back. I know she can hear my heartbeat beneath her ear, and each breath I take brings with it the scent of Maria and the desert. It was like this the last time I left her. Memories of the first night we made love fill my mind, and I swallow hard.

"A couple weeks."

I take a deep breath and then the words are out before I can think them through.

" I want you to come with me."

"Okay."

And with that quiet word, I know I can't walk away from her. It's not possible. I have to stay and face this like a man. I have face it with the same strength Maria is.

Soon I'll figure this out. Soon I'll find a way to make it right with her, to make it better for her. Soon I'll be able to look myself in the face again.

Soon.