Epilogue
"Syd?"
"Mmm?" she murmurs. It is the next day, and they are lying on their stomachs on towels on a beach in Jamaica; she had been just about to doze off when he spoke.
"Do you remember the night I proposed?"
She turns on her side to look at him, pushing her sunglasses atop her head. "Of course. On your birthday." Playfully, she squirts a bit of sunscreen onto his chest and rubs it in as she speaks. "I was your present that year."
"And every year after that."
"You're so sweet." She leans over to kiss him, then rolls over on her back, pushing her sunglasses back over her eyes.
"Do you remember how I did it?"
She smiles at the memory. "I wanted to make a romantic candlelight dinner for you, but everything went wrong."
"I came over and found you still in your robe, standing over a collapsed birthday cake and a burnt pan of lasagna."
She turns to smile at him. "I wasn't that bad of a cook, you know. Everything just sort of fell apart that night."
"I know, baby. Anyway, and I walked in, and you turned to me like you weren't sure whether you should laugh or cry."
"So I just started apologizing," she picks up. "And you stopped me, you leaned over and kissed me very softly, and then you said--"
"I want to marry you," he cuts in, leaning over to kiss her.
She smiles. "And I was so shocked, I think I said something really articulate like, What?"
"And then I started apologizing. And you said--"
"You're apologizing for saying you want to marry me?"
He smiles. "And I said something really articulate like Yes. No. I'm not apologizing for saying it, Syd, I'm apologizing for the way I said it. I was going to wait for the perfect moment. And you said--"
"I think now's pretty perfect."
"And I dropped to my knee," he says with a smile. "And pulled the ring out of my jacket pocket, and I said, Sydney Bristow, will you marry me?"
"And I said yes," she returns his smile. "And six months later, we got married on this exact beach."
"And here we are again, right where we started."
"Right where we started."
"Except this time," he reminds her. "We have three babies at home."
"I wonder if they're okay," she says, sitting up. "We should call them."
"I'm sure they're fine, Syd."
"I know," she says. "But I miss them."
"I miss them, too." He takes her hand and kisses it, and she lies back down, facing him.
"When you proposed," she says. "Is that your favorite memory of us?"
"I have to choose a favorite?"
"Of course not." She pauses. "I have a favorite."
He laughs, touching her cheek fondly. "What's your favorite, baby?"
"Right after Jack was born," she says promptly. "And you climbed into my hospital bed with me, and we were looking at our beautiful little boy, and you said--"
"Can you believe it, Syd?" he whispers. "He's ours. You kept him safe inside of you for nine months, and now he's here with us."
She takes his hand and guides it to touch her stomach. "You were always so awed by me giving birth," she says, brushing his hair back from his face fondly. "As if it was some kind of miracle."
"It is a miracle, Sydney," he says, lowering himself to kiss her stomach. "That our love can create something so small and perfect."
She runs her fingers through his hair. "I really do love you."
He slides back up to her eye level, and he smiles. "I really love you, too."
They kiss, and she thinks of nothing except how deliriously happy she is right now, in the moment. Not her nightmares. Not the horrible things that might happen to them. She knows that Michael is not thinking of his nightmares, either, or about work or money or even the three beautiful little ones they have at home.
Right there, in that moment, there is only the two of them. And for the moment, that is enough.