Mnemosyne's Daughter | (Roswell Fanfiction) | √

SIX

She's asleep when he enters the room, the exhaustion of the last couple of days taking its toll. He bends down to remove his shoes and softly moves across the floor. He looks down at her sleeping face and his chest constricts. She looks like an angel. Her face is so peaceful that he doesn't want to wake her. But she has already sensed his presence and her eyes open.

"Hey," she whispers groggily.

"Hey," he whispers back, and kneels next to the bed, bringing his face level with hers. Against his better judgement, his hand moves to brush the hair away from her forehead.

"How are you?" Liz asks.

His smile is bittersweet. "I thought that was my question."

"I know I'm asking a lot-"

He puts his finger to her lips, silencing her. "This is the least I can do."

Her breath catches and she's not sure if she's happy or not. "You're doing it?"

He leans forward and kisses her forehead. "Yes."

"Thank you," she says softly.

Max looks into her eyes and realizes at that moment that she forgives him for everything. Every hurtful word, every fight, each and every one of his missteps. Ironically, she forgives him when he is about to be erased from her memory.

She leans in, captures his lips, and their eyes drift close at the contact. Familiar sparks spread throughout their bodies. She's not really aware of Max climbing up on the bed, covering her body with his as his lips continue their assault on hers. She suppresses a moan as he kisses down her neck, tracing her collarbone and her back arches against him as his hand crawls under her shirt and closes around her breast. "Max..."

He pulls back and she meets his eyes, realizing that he thinks he crossed the line.

She shakes her head at him. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

He answers her plea by slowly, tantalizingly, opening one button at the time of her pyjama shirt. He halts for a second and looks at her face. "You're so beautiful."

She brings her hand up to touch his cheek. "So are you."

He laughs, heart-brokenly, and moves his hands to the bottom of her shirt, sliding them under the material and as his hands, palms flat against her skin, move upwards they push the shirt open, revealing her stomach and breasts. He's crying as he leans down to gently kiss the soft mould of her breast.

"So beautiful," he says brokenly. He's tugging at her resolve and she is close to giving in. They can work it out, right? She doesn't have to move away. They can heal, even with the memories. Right?

His movements come to a halt and she angles her head to look at the top of his head. He looks at her stomach and slowly brushes his hand over the tanned skin, causing her to gasp, because a white light is being emitted from his hand and it's tickling her nerve endings in the most pleasurable way. His movement has revealed the handprint on her stomach. The only physical proof of her healing. She hasn't seen it since the days just after the incidence and she realizes that she has missed it. Missed having a visible sign of the wonder that is Max Evans.

"Will it show?" Liz wonders.

Max looks up at her and his eyes are trained on her as he kisses the handprint and it vanishes beneath his lips. "No..."

It occurs to her that he has already begun the erasing process and a tear slides out of the corner of her eye. He moves up her body and catches her lips, kissing her with an adoration she thought had died long ago. She is starting to regret her decision. "Max, maybe..."