Alan pressed his face into Tuck's chest and gritted his teeth through the sobs, grimacing like a wounded animal. He'd had to walk away, he'd had to, but that didn't stop the agony of it, didn't stop the guilt of Telos being abandoned.
Did it hurt more to know that Telos would never even know who Alan was, while Alan would likely never go a day of his long immortal life without thinking of him?
No, it was better that they hadn't dragged this out, better that he hadn't tried to make it work with Melpomene until Telos was old enough to remember being abandoned.
He wished he didn't love her anymore. He wished he didn't still feel like Melpomene had been the true love of his life, the one who could have been right if it had just been another time. He wished he didn't so fervently believe that this had been his chance to make it right and that he'd given it away.
He'd had to.
He'd had to.
But Telos was so small, and his fingers had curled into such a tight little fist, and he'd been warm and vulnerable and needing love and protection. Knowing the pain he felt at Telos' kidnapping, Alan couldn't even imagine what Melpomene must gone through, how it must have torn her apart, down to her very core.
I never would have got through this without you, she had told him after the birth, after all the fear and the blood and the pain of creation. And yet she'd had to get though the next step without him.
Eventually Alan started running out of the ability to cry again, his eyes hot and his face wet. He took a few long breaths, just holding onto Tuck. "Every time I think I'm getting over her," he whispered, "something happens and it's like being back at the beginning all over again."