I own not one of these characters, they are the property of others.
Chapter 1: Fading, but Not yet Forgotten
Silence.
Mac was changing, shifting, growing, and becoming a man he hadn't known or seen in years, a man he wanted to squash and subdue because he was without anyone to love. The slowly fading breath inside an old beach ball just months ago had trapped him in an unrequited act of devotion and fidelity, it was this unseen that had blinded him. He hadn't felt the need to live aloud or to live at all, but he was too strong to die, and grief exploited this quality and turned him to stone, a creature cemented by loss that felt neither pain nor pleasure. Loss cloaked a passion that no one could will him to overcome until she came, she was savior to a man many saw as a god.
No matter how much the rest of the city pulsed and celebrated, lived and loved, laughed and screamed, there was always a reverent quiet here, occasionally broken by the ghostly whispers of those gone too soon. The final resting place of so many demanded respect, Claire was among them. Her empty coffin was miles away upstate, but here in this place of mourning and survival was her body, where Mac felt her spirit, where Mac felt connected to all that was left of what she was.
Was he here to ask for permission, to apologize, to search for a way out – no, out wasn't what he wanted and he had come too far to seek permission. The idea of an apology he considered, it held weight, after all he'd recently forgotten to think about Claire everyday, he sometimes forgot the sound of her voice while concentrating on the sensations of the present, the warm body that shared his space, the living body that could warm him where Claire's memory chilled him.
The fresh smell of her hair, the soft stilted cadence of her voice, her newness, her uncertainty, she was nothing like Claire. She was nothing like Claire, but in ways she was, she found his laughter and joy and pulled it to the surface, she chipped away at his stony façade and engaged him, she intoxicated him with her new eyes in an old city.
Lindsay. She held his future. What she said. What she whispered two nights ago while they sat curved into one another, folded around one another in understood and perfect silence is what drove him here tonight to say what, I'm sorry and goodbye, but could he. Her words broke the quiet that night and replaced it with silence, something austere, they were left without an understanding, the curves and folds became two separate lines, two distinct beings suddenly uncoupled.
Mac's low tone graveled, "It will be fine, Lindsay. This is good." He said it, but did he believe it, had he sold his words to Lindsay, no, because they still sat divided. It wasn't that he never thought of his life taking this turn, everyone wanted to leave a legacy, everyone wanted a level of immortality, some did it through greatness, by belonging to the masses, but many more did it be leaving behind children that they had nurtured to leave the world a better place than they found it. It had never happened with Claire, but they were never at the right place in their lives, there was never enough attention or joy to spread around between the two of them much less small likenesses that constantly demanded and made it those demands a pleasure to satisfy. He wanted this, but there was a gnawing, a guilt that wouldn't let him fully enjoy the moment. He looked over at Lindsay and wondered what she could be thinking, knowing she picked up on all his moods, sensed his highs and lows, normally she would offer comfort, but she had so much to lose in this moment, more than he did, and Lindsay's face told him now was the time to climb the mountain, get to the other side once and for all, move beyond ghosts and then make amends to the woman before him now.
Was this work she wondered, was she work, a moment of self-doubt followed by self-reproach, doubt was dangerous she knew it was in those moments that mistakes were made and lives ruined.
Her response feigned hopefulness, but failed, "It will be. It is – fine."