Chapter Title: A Drink for Her
Pairing: Shoyles
Characters: Nina Sharp, Phillip Broyles
POV: Phillip
Genres: Certainly not "fluff"
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Character death
Challenges: Death
Word count: 357
After Agent Dunham's funeral service, Nina has her driver take them to a nearby bar Phillip frequented during his divorce. She's quiet and withdrawn and he can see her sadness for the loss of Olivia is genuine. It's somewhat funny to him that the redhead is openly emotional for someone. She sits heavily on the bar stool, her toes barely reaching the rest bar for her feet; they drink something cheap and evil tasting, causing his head to swim in murky and disoriented thoughts. After the third glass, he eyes her suspiciously, wondering if she's slipped him something, but he can easily see she's experiencing the same reaction to the alcohol. Her elbows are planted firmly on the worn countertop, hunched over her glass.
She motions for the bartender to pour her another and she finally speaks, her voice low and hoarse.
"You know the real reason why I never had children?" She swirls the melting ice in her drink.
He has no idea what to say so he keeps his mouth closed and simply looks at her. Her eyes watch the ice cubes and he can hear the fear of truth in her voice.
"I was afraid of having daughters. Can you imagine me being mother?"
"You're a strong woman. You would've been a role model for them."
She shakes her head. "I would ruin them. Their sense of entitlement, their intelligence, their pride…they would be the fall of Rome."
Phillip is quiet, staring at the mirror behind the bar.
"You could have opted for invitro. Made sure you only had sons," he finally suggests.
She snorts. "And have my own Peter Bishop? You know what he is—I would have never wanted one of those growing inside me."
Another surprise for the day: Nina's hand lightly rests atop his as she looks into her drink. "I could care for her because all the hard work had been done for me. Olivia was a good girl."
Phillip nods, imagining blonde hair in a ponytail. "Yes, she was."
Nina raises her glass slightly, a bitter and jealous toast to the dead agent. "I certainly hope her mother's proud."