A/N: In case you were wondering, the title is short (so it sounds better) for An Early Discussion About 'Nightingale.' 
So anyway, this fic takes place during the scene when Vaughn tells Sydney about his (un)findings about Nightingale. I included their whole conversation then added more to the end of it. Please review and enjoy.
An Early Night'
It’s breakfast as usual, but I’m having trouble concentrating on the paper in front of me. The words right before my eyes are just a haze, as the thoughts about coming to a dead end in finding more about my father ring through my head. I’ve kept this from Sydney for longer than she’ll like, but I had to process the feelings I had about this failure before I could bear to share the news with anyone.
Unsure where to start, but knowing I should just get this over with, I clear my throat. “So, Laughton called me back from CIA archives,” I say, keeping my eyes on the paper.
“About Nightingale?” she picks up immediately, and without raising my eyes, I know that she’s looking at me, trying to read what my words don’t say.
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hear the slight confusion in her voice over my secrecy in regards to something that I’ve trusted only to her about.
“I was going to…” I reply and finally look up at her, “He didn’t find anything.”
She just looks at me as her eyes soften, trying to gauge how I’m feeling at the moment. “We’ll keep looking,” she says as she tries to keep my hopes up, though I can tell that she knows this obstacle will be hard to overcome.
I can only smile briefly at her optimism; her strength in times like these helps to make me feel stronger too. But with this matter, I’ve come to decide that it’s too hard to care about it any more, so I try to let the subject drop as I say, “I should get dressed.”
But this is Sydney, of course, and she wouldn’t let an issue drop when she doesn’t have all the answers even if it were erupting into flames. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she followed me into the bedroom with suggestions for how this doesn’t have to be over yet.
“There could be a hundred reasons your father didn’t register Nightingale with the CIA.”
Yep, she’s going to pull out all of the stops. I make the pretense of looking for clothes and items that are out in plain view just to try to divert her thoughts.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, frustrated – with the situation or with Sydney, I’m not sure. “Listen, have you seen my jacket anywhere?”
She grabs it quickly for me and continues, “It’s a setback, but there are people we can talk to.”
“No, no there aren’t.” I know I’m being a little short with her, but I keep myself distracted with “finding” the things I need to get to work so that I don’t come off angry. “Keys… Where the hell are my keys…”
She retrieves them, then and then adds, “We could bring this to APO. They might be able to track it –“
All right. That’s enough. “We’re not bringing this to APO. The last thing I want is Sloane knowing I was investigating my father’s death and him using that against me.”
“We don’t know your father’s dead,” she emphasizes as she tries to make me see her way.
I pause for a moment, not really wanting to make this admission out loud, as if that by itself will mean that it’s true. “Yeah, at this point I do.”
Damn. She’s still going.
“After all the progress you’ve made, how can you just—“
I’ve had more than enough at this point, so I can’t help my outburst. “How can I just what? What have I got?” I can see her wanting to interrupt me, but I don’t let her; I just need to vent this right now, and by her silence, I know that she knows too. “Some journals in his handwriting that shouldn’t even exist. And a word – one word – ‘Nightingale.’ What the hell does that even mean? Some random woman mentioned it to me. I would have been better off asking for the goose that lays the golden eggs.”
She’s ready to correct me though. “It wasn’t some random woman. She was the woman who raised Nadia.” I roll my eyes and brush my hand over my nose with impatience. I’m tired of connecting dots and trying to make sense of the jumbled image it produces. I need a simple, clear picture for once, and I know for sure that if I keep heading on this path, the web will only become more tangled. “I want to get to the bottom of this as badly as you do,” she continues. “We always thought my mother killed your father, but what if we were wrong? What if there was some other plan?”
“Another plan? You think my father and your mother made a deal of some kind?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she shrugs. “It’s what I want to help you find out.”
I shake my head and plop down on the bed, wiping my hand down my face. She sits close to me, and as I remain silent, she places her hand over mine. Her touch makes me look at her, but I look away as I speak, “Honestly, Syd, I really don’t think that I want to find out anything more about this.”
“Vaughn…”
I bring my eyes back to her, and only my look is enough to stop her. She’s seen my frustration and tried to help me past it, but now she is seeing the weariness that all of it has brought upon me, and I think that’s what scared her into silence.
She’s still holding my hand, and she squeezes it encouragingly. “What is it?” she asks softly.
I look up, trying to find a coherent answer to give her then look directly at her. “I just think that it’s pointless to keep searching. The more clues we get, the less we know. And now we’ve come to a huge roadblock in our investigation.”
I pause and sigh. “It’s true, there could be many reasons why Nightingale isn’t in the archives, but how can we prove that it’s any one of them? And it’s not even that… It’s… I don’t want to become fixated on this like I was with finding Lauren. I had made peace with my father’s death, but now I’m finding out things about him that I’d rather not know.”
“Vaughn,” she spoke slowly, carefully, “ignorance may be bliss, but it doesn’t change the truth. I know that this search is stirring up feelings that you’d rather not have, but if we can find some definitive answers – either what’s happened to your father, or if there’s another person behind this – won’t it be worth it? I know you want closure with this, but I really don’t think giving up now will help you get it.”
I start to speak, but she shakes her head and stops me. “If we can get a lead, a good lead on the meaning of ‘Nightingale,’ will you at least consider continuing? I want you to know, I’m not just pushing for this because my mother may have been involved. I just know what it feels like to be stuck in the middle of a family’s unfinished business.”
My expression softens, and I look down at our joined hands for a moment before speaking. “I know you’re doing this for me, and I’m thankful for all of your help…” I trail off for a moment to let her words run through my head again. I look at her poignantly and continue, “If we find something really promising – if there is anything left to be found – then, yes, I say we jump on it. But really, Syd, I don’t want this to consume us; I wasted enough of our time on chasing after Lauren. I don’t want something like that coming between us again. We’re taking it slow enough as it is.”
“Oh, you think so?” she smiles. “Are you saying that you want to step things up?” she asked with a playful brow raised.
“Well…” I grin back. “Yes. Let’s have more dinner-dates, more cozy movie nights, more…” I lower my voice at the end and raise my brows suggestively.
“I think we’re doing fine in that department,” she says, trying not to grin too much. “But more wouldn’t hurt.” She leans in for a kiss.
“Exactly,” I say triumphantly, and then revel in the feel of her lips on mine.
We pull back and just look at each other for a moment until our prior obligations must inevitably re-enter the picture.
“We should get to work,” she says, glancing down at her watch. “We’re already late.”
“We wouldn’t be if you didn’t have to have everything be your way,” I tease her.
“Shut up. You know I was right.”
“Oh please, don’t get me started again, or we might never get to work.”
“You just want to avoid another argument that I’d win.”
“Who says you won? I don’t see a lead on Nightingale.”
“I’ll find one,” she says determinedly.
“Now I’m not so sure you’re doing this for me at all. You just want to be right.” I smile at her.
She rolls her eyes and pulls me up by my arm. “Come on, Vaughn.”
~ 1/1 ~
So anyway, this fic takes place during the scene when Vaughn tells Sydney about his (un)findings about Nightingale. I included their whole conversation then added more to the end of it. Please review and enjoy. An Early Night'
It’s breakfast as usual, but I’m having trouble concentrating on the paper in front of me. The words right before my eyes are just a haze, as the thoughts about coming to a dead end in finding more about my father ring through my head. I’ve kept this from Sydney for longer than she’ll like, but I had to process the feelings I had about this failure before I could bear to share the news with anyone.
Unsure where to start, but knowing I should just get this over with, I clear my throat. “So, Laughton called me back from CIA archives,” I say, keeping my eyes on the paper.
“About Nightingale?” she picks up immediately, and without raising my eyes, I know that she’s looking at me, trying to read what my words don’t say.
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hear the slight confusion in her voice over my secrecy in regards to something that I’ve trusted only to her about.
“I was going to…” I reply and finally look up at her, “He didn’t find anything.”
She just looks at me as her eyes soften, trying to gauge how I’m feeling at the moment. “We’ll keep looking,” she says as she tries to keep my hopes up, though I can tell that she knows this obstacle will be hard to overcome.
I can only smile briefly at her optimism; her strength in times like these helps to make me feel stronger too. But with this matter, I’ve come to decide that it’s too hard to care about it any more, so I try to let the subject drop as I say, “I should get dressed.”
But this is Sydney, of course, and she wouldn’t let an issue drop when she doesn’t have all the answers even if it were erupting into flames. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she followed me into the bedroom with suggestions for how this doesn’t have to be over yet.
“There could be a hundred reasons your father didn’t register Nightingale with the CIA.”
Yep, she’s going to pull out all of the stops. I make the pretense of looking for clothes and items that are out in plain view just to try to divert her thoughts.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, frustrated – with the situation or with Sydney, I’m not sure. “Listen, have you seen my jacket anywhere?”
She grabs it quickly for me and continues, “It’s a setback, but there are people we can talk to.”
“No, no there aren’t.” I know I’m being a little short with her, but I keep myself distracted with “finding” the things I need to get to work so that I don’t come off angry. “Keys… Where the hell are my keys…”
She retrieves them, then and then adds, “We could bring this to APO. They might be able to track it –“
All right. That’s enough. “We’re not bringing this to APO. The last thing I want is Sloane knowing I was investigating my father’s death and him using that against me.”
“We don’t know your father’s dead,” she emphasizes as she tries to make me see her way.
I pause for a moment, not really wanting to make this admission out loud, as if that by itself will mean that it’s true. “Yeah, at this point I do.”
Damn. She’s still going.
“After all the progress you’ve made, how can you just—“
I’ve had more than enough at this point, so I can’t help my outburst. “How can I just what? What have I got?” I can see her wanting to interrupt me, but I don’t let her; I just need to vent this right now, and by her silence, I know that she knows too. “Some journals in his handwriting that shouldn’t even exist. And a word – one word – ‘Nightingale.’ What the hell does that even mean? Some random woman mentioned it to me. I would have been better off asking for the goose that lays the golden eggs.”
She’s ready to correct me though. “It wasn’t some random woman. She was the woman who raised Nadia.” I roll my eyes and brush my hand over my nose with impatience. I’m tired of connecting dots and trying to make sense of the jumbled image it produces. I need a simple, clear picture for once, and I know for sure that if I keep heading on this path, the web will only become more tangled. “I want to get to the bottom of this as badly as you do,” she continues. “We always thought my mother killed your father, but what if we were wrong? What if there was some other plan?”
“Another plan? You think my father and your mother made a deal of some kind?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she shrugs. “It’s what I want to help you find out.”
I shake my head and plop down on the bed, wiping my hand down my face. She sits close to me, and as I remain silent, she places her hand over mine. Her touch makes me look at her, but I look away as I speak, “Honestly, Syd, I really don’t think that I want to find out anything more about this.”
“Vaughn…”
I bring my eyes back to her, and only my look is enough to stop her. She’s seen my frustration and tried to help me past it, but now she is seeing the weariness that all of it has brought upon me, and I think that’s what scared her into silence.
She’s still holding my hand, and she squeezes it encouragingly. “What is it?” she asks softly.
I look up, trying to find a coherent answer to give her then look directly at her. “I just think that it’s pointless to keep searching. The more clues we get, the less we know. And now we’ve come to a huge roadblock in our investigation.”
I pause and sigh. “It’s true, there could be many reasons why Nightingale isn’t in the archives, but how can we prove that it’s any one of them? And it’s not even that… It’s… I don’t want to become fixated on this like I was with finding Lauren. I had made peace with my father’s death, but now I’m finding out things about him that I’d rather not know.”
“Vaughn,” she spoke slowly, carefully, “ignorance may be bliss, but it doesn’t change the truth. I know that this search is stirring up feelings that you’d rather not have, but if we can find some definitive answers – either what’s happened to your father, or if there’s another person behind this – won’t it be worth it? I know you want closure with this, but I really don’t think giving up now will help you get it.”
I start to speak, but she shakes her head and stops me. “If we can get a lead, a good lead on the meaning of ‘Nightingale,’ will you at least consider continuing? I want you to know, I’m not just pushing for this because my mother may have been involved. I just know what it feels like to be stuck in the middle of a family’s unfinished business.”
My expression softens, and I look down at our joined hands for a moment before speaking. “I know you’re doing this for me, and I’m thankful for all of your help…” I trail off for a moment to let her words run through my head again. I look at her poignantly and continue, “If we find something really promising – if there is anything left to be found – then, yes, I say we jump on it. But really, Syd, I don’t want this to consume us; I wasted enough of our time on chasing after Lauren. I don’t want something like that coming between us again. We’re taking it slow enough as it is.”
“Oh, you think so?” she smiles. “Are you saying that you want to step things up?” she asked with a playful brow raised.
“Well…” I grin back. “Yes. Let’s have more dinner-dates, more cozy movie nights, more…” I lower my voice at the end and raise my brows suggestively.
“I think we’re doing fine in that department,” she says, trying not to grin too much. “But more wouldn’t hurt.” She leans in for a kiss.
“Exactly,” I say triumphantly, and then revel in the feel of her lips on mine.
We pull back and just look at each other for a moment until our prior obligations must inevitably re-enter the picture.
“We should get to work,” she says, glancing down at her watch. “We’re already late.”
“We wouldn’t be if you didn’t have to have everything be your way,” I tease her.
“Shut up. You know I was right.”
“Oh please, don’t get me started again, or we might never get to work.”
“You just want to avoid another argument that I’d win.”
“Who says you won? I don’t see a lead on Nightingale.”
“I’ll find one,” she says determinedly.
“Now I’m not so sure you’re doing this for me at all. You just want to be right.” I smile at her.
She rolls her eyes and pulls me up by my arm. “Come on, Vaughn.”
~ 1/1 ~
