It was interesting; the dichotomy between his dark wriggling toes and the white, white sand. He studied it silently, an unmoving sentinel. It was damp here, this close to the surf, and he could see the half formed imprints of his feet as they lead behind him in an unsteady line. It was quiet, save the delicate roar of the ocean, and the wind whipped around him and sent ocean spray to occasionally splatter against his bare chest. He dug into the sand and let the waves wash over his ankles; let the cold shock awaken his senses as he stood with closed eyes to face the dim glow of the sun. It had been an empty, meaningless day; not unlike the one before it. Stripped of their weapons, they hadn't much to do - he wondered briefly how many would find this powerlessness chafing, but he let the thought slide away. It didn't matter, today.

Wash had come here to think, and to be alone. It was a refreshing sensation - in losing a part of him; a part that had very much become an extension of his being, he had found... A kind of peace. An uncertain calm. A numb that allowed him to examine old problems in a new light. The breeze carried with it the scent of salt and brine; a familiar scent. There was not voice in his head to stop him from remembering, this time. No one to tell him not to dwell, not to linger in the dark places. It was right, he felt; it was fair - that it hurt to remember even his happiest memories. Tiny spots of joy, secreted away. Out of thought, out of mind; but never gone forever. Never lost.

This little light of mine...

With a quiet sigh he settled to the ground where he was at, tracing patterns into the turf with his fingers idly. The beaches weren't this clean back home - certainly nothing worth bringing Daniel to. The thought was absent, automatic- and for once, he let it be. An indomitable well of sadness had settled at the pit of his very being; what was one more drop?

The sand dug uncomfortably in the waistband of his jeans, and he shifted, laying back slowly. It was cool but not cold- the warm beat of the fog-laden sun in sharp contrast to the chill of the ground beneath him. The tide tickled his toes, came up to his waist, and then trickled away. It was his only measurement of time, and he let it dominate his thoughts - the push and pull of the current, the inevitable roll of the waves. He allowed his mind to wander to happier days; happier times. He had had so many of them - hadn't he gotten his fill? He could be content with this. He could be thankful for all he had been given. He would fight the good fight. It was his duty, now.

I'm gonna let it shine.

The way Denise's smile lit a room. Daniel's bubbling laughter. The smell of fresh-cooked pumpkin bread. So many home cook meals, family dinners, punctuated by nights out on the town. Sneaking into the theater - laughing at a bad horror flick. This had always been his favorite time of year; each new autumn a time to harvest the joy they had sown - as a family; as lovers. He turned his head, burying his cheek in sand, a cool touch. It was't just her mind and her words and the comfort and wholeness she had brought that he missed. No, his needs were not all so princely, not all so divine, as his mind burrowed even darker into that tight, controlled lump of despair he held in his heart.

Let it shine.

Her body, twined around his. His better half, his mate and his best friend. He could still remember the scent of her on his sheets, that first night she had stayed. Those dark, mischievous eyes and lopsided grin. The bow of her lips, the bend of her legs. The bouncing curling mess of hair or the soft warmth of her skin - each memory just another drop. Her delicate breath on his ear - a throaty chuckle, a devious comment, her arms sliding around his waist as his own settled onto her hips... She had been perfect, had been his everything. Surely it had all been enough.

Let it shine.

Enough happy times for a lifetime. Enough to drive him mad.

Let it shine.

When he finally sat up, the sun was well into descent, and the first scattering flush of stars were there, somewhere beyond the foamy veil of clouds that formed their prison. Their sanctuary - their home. The path he'd worn in the sand was gone now; the tide having risen and taken it away; and the hollow he'd made with his own body was soon at risk of being swallowed up. Wash stood and slowly picked his way back to his room, thinking upon all that he had seen; all that he'd remembered. Memories scoured away by the inevitable roll of life.

Maybe it would be better to lose them, after all.