A/N: This is an old story, but I'm starting to write again and I wanted to post my first fics since I still like it. Let me know what you think.

It doesn't matter

It doesn't matter what I want
It doesn't matter what I need
It doesn't matter if I cry
Don't matter if I bleed
You've been on a road
Don't know where it goes or where it leads

It doesn't matter what I want
It doesn't matter what I need
If you've made up your mind to go
I won't beg you to stay
You've been in a cage
Throw you to the wind you fly away

It doesn't matter what I want
It doesn't matter what I need
It doesn't matter if I cry
Doesn't matter if I bleed
Feel the sting of tears
Falling on this face you've loved for years

Alison Krauss

She was beautiful. She always had been. And she seemed happy. He loved to think that she had once been with him as well. But not enough, not long enough. It hurt to watch her play with the little dark-haired girl who was currently holding her hand. It truly was tearing him apart.

"I'm pregnant, Julian."

When the information finally registered, a goofy grin appeared on his face.

The first time she had come to him, he hadn't been surprised. In fact, he had been expecting it. The chemistry between them was undeniable and he knew she would one day see it too – which she did. With less resistance that he had originally thought, in fact.

His fingers lingered on her arm, while his eyes were focused on hers.

"I'm surprised Sydney, it's 6 am and you're still in my bed whereas you should have left a long time ago or you should be actually telling me how this was a mistake and how it cannot happen again."

She brought her mouth to his ear, smiling slyly.

"Maybe I liked the company…"

What he hadn't expected was to be the one who would walk away. But how could he have anticipated the turn events had taken? So wrong. He remembered the first time she had thought about leaving him.

"Sydney, I'm tired and we already had this conversation."

"And all you did was lie to me! You never wanted to quit. Don't tell me you thought I wouldn't find out."

She threw some photos at him that he recognized immediately.

"Syd, I just…"

"Spare me your bullshit, I'm done with you!"

Somehow, he had managed to make her stay. Retrospectively, maybe he shouldn't have. He wasn't worth the pain. He had betrayed her, by not letting go of his old life, by thinking he was immortal. And he got burned, because he had let her get burned.

"Will she be okay?" Sark was looking desperately at the doctor he had called after she'd been shot by the men who had wanted revenge. On him.

"I can't promise you anything."

And while the doctor was trying to save Sydney's life, Sark collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

The sound of the girl's laugher brought him back to the present. They were currently in France, where Sydney had settled down a couple of years ago. She was now an English teacher in Nantes, and she was married to Tristan Duprès – an engineer who wasn't in any way aware of the previous life of his wife. And she was the mother of a beautiful little girl, Pauline, who was five years old. She had the life he hadn't been able to give her.

"I love you Julian, more than anything. Why can't we just leave? Tell me? You're gonna get yourself killed, and I couldn't survive it." Her voice choked with emotion.

"You know I can't leave, they would come after us."

"Don't try to find excuses, admit it : you love the rush, the adrenaline, the feeling of power. I'm not enough for you."

After the "accident", he had realized he was a poison in her life. He never had thought he would one day have had children, he had been so happy when she had told him they were going to have a baby. But he didn't deserve to be a father. He couldn't stay with her after what he did.

" I'm sorry, Sydney, so sorry.

I was never worthy of your love,

I hope you will be happy.

I love you.

Julian."

Sydney cried as she read the letter over and over again.

And he had disappeared, faked his death and had watched her build her new life. Without him. When he was young, he had thought that watching his mother being beaten by his father was the worst thing he could have endured. Then, the first time he had been tortured; no food during a week, several techniques of "interrogation" seriously injuring him, a lightless cell, sleep deprived and regularly beaten for fun - he had been proved wrong. But the sight of Sydney screaming his name and crying herself to sleep every night was definitely the worst thing that had happened to him.

"Julian! I need you!"

More tears.

"Where are you?"

"Allez, ma chérie, c'est l'heure de rentrer. Papa va commencer à s'inquiéter."

"Mais j'ai pas envie de rentrer maman, encore un peu, s'il te plait!!"

"Bon encore cinq minutes et on y va, d'accord ?"

"T'es la plus géniale des mamans! Je t'aime grand comme le monde!"

"Papa va commencer a s'inquiéter" He always excelled at keeping his feelings at bay, at remaining the cold assassin whose face never betrayed his emotions. That was why he was surprised when tears welled up in his eyes at hearing those words. Daddy is going to worry. If only…

"What do you think of Andrea if it's a girl?"

"I'm known to be cold, mysterious and all, but I'm not that cruel…"

Sydney threw at his laughing form the nearest pillow she could find.

"You ass, that was my grandmother's name and you're not mysterious, just stupid."

She was now laughing too, he took her in his arms and he softly put his hand on her still flat belly.

She was a great mother like he had known she would be. It was slowly killing him not to be near her, not to know what it was like holding a crying baby in the middle of the night, hearing this baby call you daddy for the first time or smile at you. The assurance that he had screwed up what was possibly his only chance was breaking him down. And seeing this man holding her, touching her, making her smile even if she sometimes had this sad look in her eyes made him go mad. It was taking him every inch of self control he possessed not to rush into the house and shoot him right away. He couldn't go on living like that. He had no right to spy her this way, she didn't deserve it.

So he was going to let the shadow swallow him. He was going to become a nobody, a man without a face or a name, a man whose soul remained avenue Clémenceau, Nantes, France.

He looked at her one last time…

"She survived…"

Sark was preparing himself for the "but" that was coming…

"…but the baby did not. I'm sorry."

The scream echoed in the whole building.

Shock, disbelief, anger, pain.

Guilt.

Emptiness.

…and at the daughter that should have been his.

ooo

Translation:
( "Come on sweetheart, it's time to go home. Daddy is going to worry"
"Don't want to go home, a little bit more, please Mummy!"
"Well, five minutes and then we go, okay?"
"You're the greatest mummy ever! I love very much!")