He rouses softly, the light sheening across bare skin. Amber daylight creeps in through the window, unbidden, and he turns away, as if by ignoring it the night will return. But the dull ache staved off by the night sky returns full force with the knowledge that this night, he will be alone.

Not yet. The one beside him stirs, and he trails a gentle caress down her cheek, brushing away strands of hair like liquid copper. She wakes, responding to his touch, and glances up at him from beneath lashes still heavy with sleep. With the morning light slanting over her face, she smiles, but her expression is sad. Her eyes already reveal the lost feeling settling in her heart.

Silence holds the moment still, and the two merely gaze at each other, afraid to speak, afraid to rush what little time they have left.

Unexpectedly a jay calls somewhere nearby, the raucous voice slicing their peace to shreds.

He casts his eyes down. "I should dress," he says quietly, gesturing vaguely to the collection of clothes on the floor, hers twined with his as if inseparable. He continues to sit, unwilling to pull the fabric onto his body like a barrier.

She sits up suddenly and places a hand on his chest, feeling the warm skin and the drumming heartbeat within. "I wish I could ask you not to go," she whispers, "but I can't ask anything so selfish. I know you would anyhow."

"I have to." He finds that he can not look up at her, can only hold his yearning back by force of will.

Don't leave me, a voice uselessly echoes in her mind. But she can no more request that than order a cat to fly. It is not in his nature to turn back.

"Then just--" her voice falters for a moment. "Just hold me?" she pleads.

Almost desperately, he gathers her into his arms, needing the reassurance as much as she. A warm tear trickles down her nose and falls onto his shoulder, trailing a mark there. He feels it cool, then dry, as temporary as everything else in this life.

"I won't forget," she murmurs. "I'll keep you with me in my memories. I'll keep this."

One of his strong hands strokes her hair, soothing motions for them both. Eventually he releases her and stands, feeling cold where her skin had rested against his. Wordlessly he dresses, and she watches, helpless.

He shoulders his pack, ready to leave, and gives her a last lingering look, etching the scene into his mind. Then he tries to speak and halts, words refusing to fall from his lips. But she knows what he doesn't say, and smiles gently.

"Me, too," she whispers. "Always."

He nods, then swallows and turns the doorknob. "I'll come back," he promises. "I will." With this, he turns and leaves, the door shutting with a final, resounding click.