Title: Remember
Author: Night of the Land
Category: Covert Affairs
Rating: K+
Summary: He knows every line and contour of her face and her body, and he can create a mental image of that in his head, and he likes very much what he sees. (oneshot)
He remembers what the sunrise looked like over the Potomac. The way the brilliant red and gold of the morning sun was reflected in the dark water. The way it glistened off the wet sheen of the morning dew on the grass in the park, and reflected off windows making rush hour traffic even more deadly as the rays temporarily blinded drivers.
He remembers what it felt like to not have to rely on someone else to get around. How the steering wheel of the car felt in his hand, the thrum of the engine as he sped down the road, the top back wind in his hair, sunglasses on for a different reason entirely.
He remembers his sister's face. Her green eyes and bottle blonde hair. The way she would roll her eyes at him when they were kids whenever he had done something stupid, and then even as adults she would still do so just to piss him off.
He remembers the way his young niece looked as a baby. A head full of dark hair, scrunched up face, tiny arms and legs, her mother's green eyes, her father's smile.
He could remember his mother and father, the way they looked. His mother with her kindly eyes, a pale green like his sister; his father with his hard brown ones, so much like his own.
He remembers sand, and the way the overly hot sun glinted off the golden hills of the grainy substance with a vengeance. He remembered the looks on the faces of the children in Iraq, their sunken, hollowed eyes and their frail sun beaten bodies, as they stared up at him as he rode by in the humvee.
He remembers the look of his friend and fellow soldier, right after the white flash that would change his life forever, as his friend held him in his arms, yelling something, shaking him slightly. His strong face drawn in terror and streaked with grime and blood, brown eyes begging pleading with him to 'just hold on, damn you, just hold on!', before everything went dark and he saw for the last time.
He wishes he could remember his wife's face, but since he's never seen it, he can only think as he lays in bed, tracing the high cheek bones, his finger tips barley touching her skin.
He knows that she has dirty blonde hair, and he can picture it in his mind.
He knows that she has light brown, almost hazel eyes, and he can picture that in his mind.
He knows every line and contour of her face and her body, and he can create a mental image of that in his head, and he likes very much what he sees.
And as his hand skims down her body, causing her to mumble something unintelligible in her sleep, coming to rest on her lower abdomen, he wishes he would be able to see the child that the love of his life was carrying. Wishes that he would be able to see her and know her face, if only for a day, because that is all that he would need, all he would ever need, to memorize the lines of a child's face that he had helped create.
His thoughts were broken by a hand cupping his cheek, and lips pressing to his neck. He closed his eyes in pleasure, and smiled into the kiss.
"I know what you are thinking, and don't. You're going to be a wonderful dad." She said, nuzzling his neck, her hair falling into his face and he breathed deep. Even after everything he still loved the smell of her. A heady mixture of her perfume, her vanilla lotion and just her natural scent.
"I know, just thinking." He murmured back, threading his hands in her long hair.
She made a sound of acknowledgement, and kissed his neck again, wrapping her arms around him, fingers tracing the scars on his body, "Go back to sleep, sweetie, it's only 1 o'clock." She murmured, snuggling close to him.
He held her tight, hand once more coming to rest on her low stomach, and he felt her smile against his skin.
He could wish all he wanted, but he knew, with all his heart that, even though he would never see his child, he would die for her. He closed his eyes again, and settled down next to his wife and allowed himself to drift off to sleep, the vivid dreams teasing him with sight, as they did every night.