Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

SEVENTY-THREE

I was back in the white bathroom. But there was no door. No way out. My voice bounced off the walls as I called for help, pounding my fists against the unrelenting white tiles.

No one came to my rescue. I was all alone.

Something warm and wet dripped on my shoulder. I flinched and looked up.

I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

His arms were around my body, first enhancing my panic with its confinement, until I heard his voice, felt his breath against my ear, and opened my eyes to the darkness of the room.

No whiteness. No underdeveloped bleeding fetuses hanging from the ceiling.

I inhaled sharply, whimpering, as the image refused to leave my mind. The ceiling of blood, filled with my mother's unborn babies.

I let him rock me, let him kiss my neck and tell me that it was only a nightmare. Over and over again. But it took a long time before I could fall asleep again.

I must have just closed my eyes as Max bolted up next to me, a terrorized scream of "Liiiiz!!" ripping from the depths of his chest.

My pulse was pounding so loudly through my body that it took me a second to get my body to move, to get over the fear that we were threatened, that someone was here to take us.

The fear that it was not only the two of us here. Two frightened teenagers with night terrors.

"Max," I said, grabbing a hold of his arm. "I'm here. You're here with me."

His breathing slowed down and my fingers were trembling with adrenaline around his bicep as I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders become more even. Then his head dropped forward into his hands and his harsh sobs ripped through the night.

I sat paralyzed, my hand frozen on his arm. I had never heard him cry like that before. Uncertainly, I moved closer to him on my knees and wrapped my arms around his back, pressing my cheek to the back of his neck. He grabbed my hands as they touched his elbows and pressed them to his chest.

I felt helpless. Lost. I had no idea what had happened to Max in captivity. What they had exposed him to. If he had been physically tortured, if they had played mind games with him.

His sobs gradually softened, quieted and then disappeared. Without a sound, he turned in the circle of my arms, positioning us face to face. His eyes were haunted, his expression frightened. He looked pale in the darkness.

Cautiously, he moved his hands over my face, let his fingers slide down my forehead, over my eyelids, down my lips, and trailing along the lines of my jaw. His eyes followed the movements of his hands while my eyes traced the expressions on his face.

His palms brushed down my neck and his eyes flickered to mine as I tensed at the proximity, the phantom fingers of Sean's strangle around my neck still fresh in my memory. Max quickly, although gently, moved away from the area, most likely remembering what he had seen Sean doing to me through my memories. His fingers dragged along my collarbone, dipping under the hem of my T-shirt.

I could see the request in his eyes even before he voiced it, the touch of his fingers blazing against my skin. "Can I...?"

He was uncomfortable. Afraid of my answer? His distress was coming off him in waves. He was looking for something and if I could help him find it, I would.

I nodded my consent and he searched out the bottom of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head. I was naked underneath.

I thought of how calm he had appeared in the shower with me earlier. Of the changes to his body while his mind had appeared strong.