[fic] [alias] evanescent sunset
She went to the beach often, though never found him there.
Instead, she was greeted by pale imitations, pieced together from photographs and other peoples’ stories told over cold beers and a glass of water. The man she faced on that white beach often had mismatched features -- a frown that clashed with bright, smiling eyes, concern written on a tired face. But she didn’t have anything to compare him to, so took what she could.
They spoke of baby names (Oscar! Emily! Beatrice!) and pasta recipes. How she had to bring their baby to France to meet his mother and the remainder of his family. That her mother wouldn’t be the baby’s grandmother any more than his father could be a grandfather, and he felt great sadness about that (though in an odd, funny way).
Sometimes, she could almost imagine their child playing in the sand as she sat with him and gazed out into the evanescent sunset. Darkness descended, and she’d close her eyes and try to remember meeting him, squeezing her eyes closed so hard, tears would leak out of the edges.
So she’d try and remember the times he comforted her, held her in his arms and kissed her silly until she didn’t remember what she was so upset about in the first place.
But she couldn’t remember. She’d cast him out -- thrown him to the wolves -- and said good riddance. Let him fade from her memories to quell her pain.
What a selfish, selfish thing to do.
Yet she could never put herself before her country, her friends, her child, except when it came to him. She’d give her all before she let anything happen to him.
So one night, as she walked across the beach, white dress flowing around her round stomach, she wished for him to come back. Just one last time, to say goodbye.
His shadow lingered on the edge of the tree line, but he never approached.
Sydney Bristow awoke with tears in her eyes and his scent lingering in the air.
“Good bye,” she whispered, and stroked her stomach.