| "Ring Around The Moon" |
| Part 1 by Leto1281 |
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Disclaimer: If I owned these characters they'd be a
lot happier, though I do love the angst! Really though, I do not own any of the characters on Roswell, nor do I own the lyrics to Sarah McLachlan's song "I Will Remember You". Category: Michael/Maria Rating: PG-13 Authors Note: Spoilers: Not really, but just to cover my bases I'll say up until Sexual Healing. Author's Note: This isn't a songfic but I was inspired by Sarah McLachlan's "I Will Remember You", so if you have the song lying around you might want to listen to it while you read. |
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| My little spitfire always looks like an angel when she sleeps. Her bare skin takes on a soft blue hue from the light that creeps in between the slated blinds.
She shifts a little on the bed, her feet kicking away the wrinkled sheet that is tangled around her legs.
Her head flops to the left, leaving a wet drool spot on the pillow. I smile a little to myself. I know I've fallen totally in love with her, because I even find
her drooling sweet. Her new position allows me to see the smile of contentment that has crept across her elfin face. She looks so serene at this moment, although if she knew what I am about to do she'd rise up from her peaceful slumber and kick my sorry ass
across the room. She wouldn't realize that this is for the best, maybe not for me, but it is definitely the best thing for her. I care about her too much to allow myself to ruin her life. No matter how good things are
at this moment I know they won't last. Nothing good ever lasts for me. Disappointment and heartache follow
me wherever I go. Even she would have to agree with me on this one. She's shared in that disappointment and heartache far too many times. I've never been a superstitious man. However, that has never stopped her from believing in omens and supernatural forces. Against my own will I now know that crossed knives set at the dinner table means there's bound to be an argument and that a fallen over broom forecasts that company is on its way. Of course, we have never needed the excuse of misplaced silverware to fight and our friends and family are always hanging around our place. As if in defiance of my own protests, that her believing in such things is ridiculous, I have picked up a few of her bad habits. These past few months I've tried to ignore the signs, the ones that foretell of hardship not far off, but tonight I cannot push away these feelings of foreboding any longer. I have lain awake for the better part of the night, despite my demanding exhaustion, trying to pinpoint the warnings I fell in my gut only to come to the conclusion that I don't know what they mean. She knows more about earthy, metaphysical stuff than I do, but I obviously can't talk to her about it. Instead I will do what I do best. I walk around to her side of the bed and bend down. I stare at her face trying to take in every detail so I can store it away for later, so I might draw upon her image in the long nights that lie ahead of me. Nights where I will have to sleep alone, her warm body absent from my side. I slowly brush my worn thumb across her soft, fleshy cheek recalling all the times this remarkable woman has stood beside me and lent me her strength. Now I have to be strong for her. I reluctantly pull my hand away from her warm skin and rise up and away from her. I can't let my resolve weaken. I'm doing this for her. I'm doing this to protect the woman who has restored my mind, body, and soul. This is the least I can do for her, although it will never be enough. I head towards the door, bending down slightly to grab my duffel bag from the floor. The bag contains some clothes and money, nothing of any real importance. The only thing that has any real importance to me is lying in the bed across the room. I force myself to grab on to the handle of the door. If I don't leave right this moment I will lose the small amount of willpower I have left. All I really want to do is toss this bag onto the floor and crawl back in bed with her. I don't though, I can't, and I won't. Instead I turn the door handle and open the door slowly, hoping the squeaking of the hinges, which I promised her I'd oil last week, don't wake her. I ease my body through the small gap in the doorway, not wanting to risk opening it any farther. I don't look back. I know if I allow myself to take in her sleeping form one last time I won't have the strength to leave her. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing this is the hardest thing I have ever done and quite possibly the hardest thing I will ever have to do. I inch the door closed behind me, and just before I close the door I whisper softly into the night, "Good bye, Maria". **** Sarah McLachlan "I Will Remember You" I will remember you
Will you remember me? Chorus:
I will remember you I'm so tired but I can't sleep Chorus I'm so afraid to love you, Chorus Chorus |
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