I opened the door to my bedroom, which had been mine for only one night, and Ian followed in after me, shrugging out of his blazer on the way, and neatly folding it over the dressing chair.

Throughout the drive back, we did not speak a word. Ian was concentrated on the road, too concentrated. Almost as though he wasn't concentrated at all. Because his hand was on my lap, squeezing my thigh, making me aware of his nearness, even though he looked lost far away. The thick tension in that car had readily followed us into the room as I heard the door shut behind me, then lock.

I didn't know what it was. I was nervous. I was anxious. I did shave this afternoon, and I sure as hell smelled good. Then there was no sensible reason for the uncertainty rising in my chest.

Two warm hands reached for my shoulders from behind and then trailed down, just as his chest came in contact against my back. His breath was warm at my neck when his head dropped and his lips landed on my shoulder.

He squeezed my forearms. "You're tensed."

I closed my eyes and leaned back against his chest, feeling his heart thumping crazily against my back. Mirroring My own. He was right. My body was so stiff that I couldn't move my toes.

His arms wrapped around me in a warm embrace, and lips pressed against my hair. "We don't have to do anything that you don't want to. I'll be more than happy if you let me fall asleep with you in my arms tonight."

His words swirled around me and engulfed me in a feeling that resembled when we felt safe. When we felt at home. And it was a person, who knew hardly anything about me, or my past.

My past...

Somewhere under the thick mesh of the dress, a sting drew my attention. Somewhere above my hip bone. It pricked, burned and stirred inside me.

My eyes opened.

"Ian?"

"Yes, sweetheart,"

"I...I need to..." As I tried to put words together into a sensible sentence, they got sucked back into my lungs. There was something I was supposed to say, but I had not the slightest clue how. "I have to...you must know..." I moistened my lips and ducked my head low, feeling a weight building at my chest.

This is difficult. I can't do this.

But I had to.

Ian's arms unfolded around me and he spun me to face him. He held my face in his hands, and studied my profile.

"Something is bothering you," he searched for my eyes, soft blue eyes wide with anxiousness. "Tell me."

Tell him.

Easier said than done. I had no idea from where I was supposed to begin. And I was more afraid of where it would end.

How it would end.

Ian brushed his thumb across my cheekbone, and I leaned into his touch, seeking his warmth and comfort. Like it was a support. As if it was the most natural thing to do. To lean onto him.

Home.

Ian softly sighed. "You're worrying me now. Please tell me, baby. If it's something I did then-"

"No," I reached for his wrists holding my face and shook my head. "I just...I want to tell you. But...I don't know how." I huffed out a difficult breath.

Ian stared at me for a whole minute. Eyes gauging my expression, face contouring from worry to confusion to something I couldn't point out.

"Then show me." He said, running his knuckles across my cheeks. "If you can't say it, then show me what's bothering you."

Show him.

I blinked. Can I?

Instead of talking about it, and getting my anxiety back up, I could show him. The truth. Truth about me. My fear. My past. A past that somehow still haunted me. Weird how I did not think about it.

I looked up into his eyes, an unending stream of questions and concerns that I felt I was obligated to rid him of. I reached forward, and placed a hand against his chest, feeling the thumping of his heart under my palm.

"Undress me." I couldn't recognize my voice as I said it. Weak, vulnerable; a tone I had not heard in years.

Ian's eyes searched for mine, as if trying to weigh the seriousness of that request. When he seemed to have made sure that I wasn't kidding, his lips pressed together with a soft nod of his head.

He stepped closer, and buried me in his embrace, pulling me into his chest. My arms naturally went around him as my chin rested on his shoulder. It was the first time ever since I could remember, that we had actually hugged. A real embrace where heart was against heart, trying to tear through the restraints of flesh and skin, and mold into one another as if they were always meant to be one.

Ian brushed my hair off my back with his left hand, and his right hand reached for the back of my gown. A soft kiss pressed against my neck as he eased the zipper down, gently, almost carefully. The fabric began to loosen around my middle, as the zipper travelled south, until there was no way to go. My hair was back in its place and I pulled back as the dress began to fall from my arms. Ian caught it before it slipped.

"Look at me." His voice was resonating through every cell of my body, urging me to look into his eyes.

I looked up.

His eyes burned with what looked like restraint and concern, as he held my gaze and started slipping the sleeves down my arms. Lower and lower. The dress slid down my chest, under my exposed breasts, down my abdomen, all the way to the floor, and pooled around my heels.

Ian was still looking at me. He had not once looked away or down, even as I stood almost naked before him.

"What do I do now?" His voice was strangled, and breathy, as if he was afraid of what I was going to show him, or that I was going to show him exactly what he was thinking.

"Now..." I took a step back, out of the dress pooled on the floor. His arms fell from where they were holding my wrists as I tore myself away from him, and a sting at the corner of my eyes, made me blink back my tears as I choked out, "Look at me."

His words. But with a totally different meaning.

Ian blinked, as if processing what I had just said and then, his eyes moved down.

Slowly, confusedly. Over my neck, my breasts, my stomach...the scars. His eyes stopped below my breasts, and a stillness fell over his face. They moved over my stomach, every little patch of marred skin. The burns above my hip bone, the stitches along the line of my panties.

He just stared. Blankly.

My fingers twitched on my sides to come up and cover my skin. To shield the permanent remnants of my fucked-up history away from his eyes.

I was bare before him. More naked soul than a naked body. And all that I ever tried to hide from the world, I showed him.

I gulped down a lump forming in my throat as I yearned to hear his voice, but all I got was a blank look. It was like a knife in my chest, that twisted and dug deeper into me with every passing second.

"This is me, Ian." A statement which was supposed to be proudly announced, came out of me like a weak mewl. A single tear tore through my restraints and ran down my cheek. "This is all of me."

Ian's eyes moved up to meet my gaze, still pretty much empty. "Maeve..."

I choked out a breath upon hearing my name from his lips, and spun around, facing away from him, bringing my hands around myself protectively. The last strand of my courage snapped painfully in my chest, tears freely ran down my face. Memory after memory resurfaced my mind. Blades. Glass. Fire. And Blood. So much blood.

I hated it. I hated myself. For all that I did. For whatever I put myself through. For being so weak. For letting every little thing get to me. For-

Two strong arms circled around me, as Ian grabbed me from the front and hoisted me up from the floor, squeezing me tight against his chest.

For a handful of seconds, I went numb. Unable to feel my limbs or his voice that was whispering some soft nothings. But the heat from his body, blazed across my skin, forcing blood through my veins, pumping life into my body, and my arms found their way around his neck.

Just like that, naturally.

I buried my face into his neck, intending to muffle my sobs, but they broke out anyway.

I did not know why I was crying. That made me sob harder.

Was it because after years of fighting against my own instincts, promising myself to get over the past, and move on, I had never actually let it go? Was it because even after being told so many times, I couldn't embrace these scars? Or was it because I showed this man all of these marks on my body, a body that he called "flawless", and instead of disgusting away, he was holding me so possessively against his chest? Like I would scatter into thin air if he'd let go of me?

"Sshhh, it's alright. I got you. I got you," Ian's voice cradled me like a lullaby. Soft and gentle. Calming even. Rocking me back and forth. My tears had soaked through the collar of his shirt, but it felt cool against my burning skin. So they continued to stream.

"Ian..." He set me down on my feet but didn't break the hug as I said, "I...I know you have questions. Probably many. And I'm ready to answer them-"

"I have just one." He cut through my sentence, and gently pulled away, still holding me close. "Not many. Just one." His face was twisted into a pained expression, somewhat angry. I couldn't overlook how much that resembled my own. "And it's not a question."

I nodded fervently. I was ready for anything. Even if he was to tell me my scars looked hideous. I would take it. Because it would be him being honest with me. Unlike all the other people, who had but shed pity over me like flowers over a corpse. I knew Ian would be honest. And I knew I would believe anything and everything he said.

"You've probably heard it before but I'll say it anyway." Ian brushed a stray curl off my face, wiping the tears away with it, and a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Flaws don't make us ugly, Maeve. They make us humans."

Two simple phrases. But the most resonating words I had ever heard in my entire life. "They make us what we are, who we are. They are the reminiscent of a war we fought, and won. I don't know what you went through, but don't you see how far you've come? You're still here, Maeve. You're here, with me. You..." He took a deep breath, his eyes bloodshot. "You...you're the most beautiful, strong and fierce woman I've ever came across my entire life, Maeve. I...I-" He blinked back his tears, and more ran down my face.

Ian was crying, for me. With me. My heart painfully twisted in my chest, as I reached up and held his face, like he was holding mine.

"I don't know how to say it." He shook his head, conflicted. "You take my breath away every time I look at you. And...and it's not just how you look or dress. It's your presence. When you're around, everything becomes you."

He bit down on his lips and pulled me closer to press a kiss against my forehead. I circled my arms around him, holding him to me. Seeking his nearness.

"I know you're not ready to talk about it now, even if you argue otherwise. But one day, I'm going to sit down and travel through those memories with you. And after that, we will let them go." His lips found mine, and he kissed me, with a softness that reminded me of autumn. The touch of a stray leave brushing past my shoulder, or a swift breeze caressing my cheeks. I melted against him, and he pulled me closer, tilting my head with his other hand to deepen the kiss.

It was nothing like the kiss we shared just two hours ago, and yet it was everything I hoped for the rest of the night.

When the lack of breath made us break away, Ian pulled me against him, and I buried my face in his chest. We stood like that for quite a few minutes, just basking in each other's presence, Ian gently cradling me in his arms, softly rocking us side to side, until my eyelids felt too heavy to stay open.

I didn't know what I expected the night would turn into, but somehow, it had turned out into one of the most beautiful ones I could recall. A weight had lifted off my chest. It was so freeing, so... liberating.

"Shall I put you to bed, sweetheart?" Ian's voice cocooned me as he bent down, already hoisting me up into his arms. I curled against his chest and buried my face in his neck. I didn't want to let go of him. He felt so good.

"Will you stay?" I asked, half sleepily.

"Wouldn't leave even if you asked me to." He laid me down on the bed, took off my heels and softly kissed my hair. "Stay here." He stepped back, undoing his tie, and the buttons of his shirt. I watched him with partly open eyelids as he placed the tie at the night stand, and took off the shirt, half aware of when he came back and I was sitting again. He pulled the shirt around me, and I slipped my arms into the sleeves which were way too big for me. He patiently buttoned me up, his scent now clinging to my body with his shirt, and before I knew, I was back over the pillow.

The lights turned off and the bed sank behind me. Ian slipped his hands around my waist, and pulled me back against his chest, tangling his legs with mine. A kiss pressed against my hair, and I heard his voice, soft and warm on my ear. "Sleep now, sweetheart. Goodnight."