I should have prefaced this by saying that this isn't personally what I think is going to happen. We know she's not going to leave New York.
This is more of a "what if" prompt.
If the sun wasn't falling over the horizon, the heat would be stifling. It was still warm enough that he tugged at the collar of his shirt, his typical blazer on but unbuttoned as he moved along the edge of the path towards the Lincoln Memorial. The sun just fell over the top of the white memorial, but the sky is still a startling mixture of yellows and blues and purples and it makes him walk even faster. He'd only gotten off his plane in Dulles 45 minutes ago, and the traffic from the airport slowed him down slightly but his taxi driver got him here as fast as he could.
This was his only chance. He didn't know where she lived.
It hits him like a fist to the jaw but he breathes past it. It doesn't matter if he knows because if she's not here he's going to walk over to Pennsylvania Avenue to the FBI Headquarters and demand they tell him where she is because he loves her and he's not leaving without her. He hopes it doesn't come to that because then she'll probably have to bail him out of prison and that's a grand gesture mood killer, so he really hopes he's right.
He knows that he shouldn't have to make the first move, but maybe that's what she's waiting on. She left him but maybe she doesn't know what to do now to make it up to him. Maybe she thinks he won't take her back and that's laughable because he meant what he said. He thinks that maybe she thinks he's angry and he probably should be – he's sure he will be by the time they actually sit down and talk about this but it's clear that she's as miserable as he is from that message she sent him, and if she's not miserable than she at least misses him and that was enough for him to buy a plane ticket and fly to DC.
He's been doing a lot of thinking since she left. Thinking he couldn't do in New York anymore because his sheets still smelled like her and she accidentally left a bottle of her lotion under his sink and it smelled like cherries. So he went to the Hamptons and it wasn't much better because he remembers how comfortable she looked here and how happy he was to share this with her but it was a little bit easier to think there.
He loves her. He loves her and it kills him that she thought she had to do this alone but he also knows her. He knows that somehow in her mind - her beautiful, twisted, mind this made sense. Taking this job, coming to DC without him was what she thought was right.
It was a mistake. It was a mistake for her to go and it was a mistake for him to let it happen but he thinks they can get it right soon. They've both made so many mistakes before this, hurt each other too much and he's over it because it's not worth it.
But she is.
She's worth it.
He's done a lot of thinking and he realizes that he's been an idiot, too. That he's been giving relationship advice to his daughter for years now and he wasn't following any of it and he should be. He wants this, wants her enough to get over being hurt. The most worthwhile things in life are the most difficult so he can suck up his pride and do this. Because he wants her. Forever. He wouldn't have proposed if he didn't and he doesn't think he's wrong in thinking that she wants it, too.
She wouldn't have sent him that picture if she didn't.
She just needs to know that he still does.
He came to the memorial on a hunch because he thinks he still knows her, and he's right because she's sitting on top of the stairs facing the reflection pond. The lights on the memorial are turning on and Lincoln's illuminated behind her but she's looks so much smaller than he remembered. She's curled up into herself but she's holding something in front of her, staring at it intently. He walks up the stairs to the first raised platform keeping close to the railing but she doesn't look away from whatever she's holding and he's grateful for it.
He turns away from her for a moment and takes out his phone to snap a picture of the Washington Monument, the sun setting behind the Memorial just a shaky reflection on the water before he types out a quick message to her, attaching the photo and putting his phone and his hands back in his pockets while he waits.
He watches as her phone goes off, sees as she pulls it out from where it looked like she had it tucked into her shirt. He braces himself because he can almost see her squinting from where he's standing but then in exactly 2 seconds her spine snaps straight up and her head snaps to where he's standing so quickly that he almost winces.
It already looks a little bit better.
He'd thought about what he wanted to say the entire taxi ride from the airport, and he stands stock still as they stare at each other. He's hoping that she's trying to convince herself that he's here, that it's been week but they're finally in the same city again, and it's not home but it feels like it because she's here. She stands up slowly. She's wearing her heels and he smiles because he loves that she does that even in an entirely new situation, and then it registers that she's moving down the stairs towards him, quickly. He doesn't move to meet her but when she reaches the platform he's on he takes his hands out of his pockets and opens his arms just in time to wrap them around her as she crashes into him, her arms wrapped around his neck. She buries her face into his neck and he feels her breathe words out against his skin. And it takes him a moment because he's lost in how right it feels to have her in his arms again, even if she if trembling so terribly, but she's whispering how much she missed him, how sorry she is, murmuring his name into his skin and it's seeping right through him and into his bloodstream because he's here. And he knows he shouldn't do it. He knows that he should hold her like this and then they should sit down and talk about what's happening but he can't help it.
He pulls away from her slightly, with a little bit of effort because she doesn't seem to want to let him go and it convinces him that all of this was worth it. He catches her chin with his hand before he runs his finger over her cheek, and the way she's looking at him is breaking his heart. She looks happy and shocked but she also looks terrified, her lips parted and her brow furrowed.
"You came," she whispers. Her lip quivers and he feels his own eyes water because she looks so scared that he's going to disappear. She swallows again, her voice coming out a little bit stronger this time, but still just as mystified.
"You're here."
He swallows once, can't even bring himself to nod before he closes the distance, presses a gentle kiss to her lips. This feels like home and he knows that this is right. Coming here was the right thing to do.
He pulls back before he can get too lost in her. They need to talk and as much as he wants her he needs them to do this right this time. He doesn't go far, simply opens his eyes and lets his forehead rest against hers as he releases the truth that has been weighing on his heart since the day at the swings.
"I missed you."
In case you don't find what you're looking for
In case you're missing what you had before
In case you change your mind,
I'll be waiting here in case
you just want to come home.