A/N: This must be the most random idea I've ever had. But this morning I was just thinking about an idea for a one-shot, and Ian popped into my head, along with this. And I couldn't resist.

Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure, or Ian. But I do own Sarah, Michael, Thomas, and Harry.

A Proper Farewell

"Ian."

The woman didn't look particularly surprised to see the man before her. Actually, it was as if his arrival was expected; she had carefully rearranged her facial expression to display boredom. But the emotions practically screamed out of her eyes.

Those beautiful brown eyes. Even filled with pain and anger, they were the loveliest he'd ever seen.

"Hello, Sarah."

There was an awkward pause, and then she tossed her head and stepped aside.

"Come in."

"Thank you."

It was too polite, too stilted. Ian wondered where all the natural comfort that once blanketed them had gone. Probably dissolved sometime in the decade since they'd last seen eachother.

There was a small boy at the kitchen table, only about four or so. He looked like his mother - wide, dark eyes and neatly combed dark hair. He stared at Ian, confused.

Sarah spoke to him gently. "Sweetie, this is Mommy's friend, Ian. We're just going to do some catching up, kay? Boring grown-up stuff. How about you go play in the playroom?"

The boy's face cleared; he nodded eagerly, clutching a handful of Crayons in his grubby fist as he scampered out of the room.

"Cute kid," Ian said softly.

Sarah turned to him, the softness in her demeanor gone. Her voice was hard as she replied, "His name is Thomas. He's the younger of my two boys."

Ian couldn't suppress a whistle. "Two?"

"Time didn't stand still while you were in America, Ian. People moved on. I moved on. You would have known that if you'd bothered to reply to any of my e-mails or letters."

He could detect the hurt beneath the anger. It was faint, but there. He took a step toward her. "I'm sorry."

She laughed bitterly. "I'll bet you are. I bet you thought of me every time you held someone at gunpoint, and every day you rotted away in that jail."

He flinched. "I'm not a bad person, Sarah."

"Ha! You've got a funny way of proving it. I heard all about the treasure, all about Benjamin Gates. You know, Ian, if you'd told me when Ben first called to get you on his team, all those years ago, that you'd be leaving him to die in just a few short years, I would not have believed you. Now I understand. He was just a pawn. Like me."

He gasped and stepped back, stung. She may as well have smacked him in the face.

"You were never a-a pawn. I loved you, Sarah. I told you I loved you, and you pushed me away! What was I supposed to do? I left the next day. I was upset, but I thought you would forget about me."

"I tried," Sarah said coldly. "I went to the airport the next day to tell you I loved you, too. To apologize. But I missed you. So I tried calling – but you'd gotten a new phone. I e-mailed you – you never responded. For ten years, you never once contacted me, no matter how hard I tried to get ahold of you."

Ian remembered all those e-mails now – he'd deleted them without reading them. He wanted to forget about her, to forget about the pain. To blame her.

"How did you find out what happened to me?" he asked finally.

"I called Ben. I found his number, but it was no longer in use. So I called the Archives, where the news said that co-finder of his worked. A Dr. Chase. I told her I was your ex-fiancee, and she connected me with Ben. And he told me you were in jail."

"Were you already married when this happened?" He was trying to put the pieces together.

She shook her head. "Michael - my husband - and I had been dating for two years. He proposed, but I told him I wasn't ready. I still loved you, even after five years of no contact. So I talked to Ben and he told me what happened. After that, I accepted Michael's proposal. A year later, we had Thomas."

"Do you love him?"

Her eyes burned. "How can you possibly ask me a question like that? How can you even dream that what I do is any of your business after what you did to me? If you're smart, Ian Howe, you'll turn around and leave. And forget about me. I've tried so hard to do the same to you."

He lowered his head.

She wasn't finished.

"And tell me something else – if you've got the guts to come back here after everything that's happened, if you care that much, why did you ignore all my attempts at reconnecting with you? How can you think that I'd still be here waiting for you, still the impressionable girl I was ten years ago?"

He struggled to find his voice. "I-I don't know."

She pursed her lips. "Maybe you should figure it out, then."

"Mum?"

Both adults turned to the doorway. A boy of about ten stood there, a smoky gray cat in his arms.

"Mally made a me-" His voice trailed off as his eyes locked on Ian. His mouth opened.

Ian felt a shock surge through him, leaving him winded. He was staring into his own eyes – pale blue. The boy's hair was a dark blonde; darker than Ian's, but cut in a similar style. The resemblance was uncanny.

The thin arms jerked – the cat leapt out and disappeared – and the boy backed away.

"Harry-" Sarah began, panic flashing across her face. Harry turned and sprinted out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Ian gaped after him. Sarah turned wearily, the fire gone from her eyes.

"So now you know why I was too frightened to admit I loved you when there was still time. I found out I was pregnant a week before you left. And I was too ashamed to tell you. You left for the States - Harry was born, and until he was five he was fatherless. Then I married Michael. Harry knows Michael's not his dad, obviously. He's a very intelligent child – you saw how quickly he made the connection between the two of you. I've always told him his father died. I thought it would be easier than having him think you abandoned him."

"I-I'm so sorry, Sarah. If I'd known-"

"You would have answered a few e-mails?" The cutting tone was back, then gone just as quickly. "Maybe. But it's too late for that now. As I said before, you've made your choices, I've made mine. Maybe we don't get our Cinderella story, but we do what we can, you know?" Her eyes were shining with unspilled tears.

"But – Harry…" He gestured wordlessly after his son.

"You want to be a part of his life? It's a bit late for that. He must hate you now, and he most likely hates me, too. I could probably talk him around to forgiving me, but you…" She shrugged.

"Will you be okay?" Ian asked in a low voice.

Her composure dropped – her face sagged, and a tear dripped down her cheek. "Of course," she said hoarsely. "I have a family. I have a good life...What about you? Where will you go?"

He looked away. "I don't know," he murmured. "Everyone I ever cared about has turned against me. I can't blame them. I've done so many things I'm not proud of. Made so many mistakes. Leaving you." He met her gaze again.

She took a deep breath. "You'll be all right?" Her voice was soft and scratchy. Ian knew this meant she was holding back the sobs.

"Yes," he told her sincerely. Hesitantly, he reached for her, and she stepped into his embrace. He held her for several long, wordless moments, knowing they would never see each other again.

She stepped back, and his arms fell limply to his sides.

"I still love you," he told her.

She managed a small smile. "I love you, too. Ten years too late."

Then she was on her tiptoes, planting a small kiss on his cheek. Ian knew it was time to go. With heavy footsteps, he trudged to the door and opened it, stepping outside. He looked back only once. She was standing behind the door, hand raised in a silent farewell.

A/N: Wow. That is definitely my first Ian/OC. It didn't help that while I was writing this there was a song on the radio with the chorus "I hate it when I see you cry..." Story of my life. Well, review!