Title: Fool's Paradise
Author: me
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't sue.
Summary: Set after Unveiled when Vaughn discovers that Lauren is the mole for the Covenant. It goes AU after that as Vaughn deals with the betrayal by pushing everyone away and shutting down emotionally. Is there anyone that can make him feel again?
A/N: I couldn't let this fic sit on my computer for any longer and while I promised myself I would finish writing all the chapters before posting it, I'm weak so now I'm posting it, lol. It's unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.
I think I've bitten more than I can chew. I start a fic when I have exams in a week :doh: Also, I'm a slow writer so I'll try my best with updating at regular intervals.
Finally, this has also been posted at sd-1.net.
----------------------
Chapter One
----------------------
Nothing.
The void that fills a black hole…the abyss that occupies the depths of the ocean.
Feel nothing.
Incarceration to a prison cell devoid of everything but nothingness; a plague upon my life, incapacitating my ability to feel; a malignant tumor growing inside, eliminating not only the pain and despair but also the joy and ecstasy of life.
I feel nothing.
The solution to my problem…
The cure to my disease…
------------------------------------------------
“Any problems, Agent Vaughn?”
“No sir.”
“Very well. You’re dismissed.”
I rise from my chair in unison with Dixon and obediently push the chair to its designated position beneath the long conference table. To avoid conversation with Dixon - the only other occupant in the debriefing room - I attempt to loosen the vice grip my tie has on my airway.
“Vaughn.” Dixon’s voice reverberates in the sterile debriefing room, bouncing off the blank walls, halting my actions and thoughts. Looking in his eyes I see understanding, mixed with pity and a touch of condolence creating a cocktail of sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Is he sorry for the loss of my wife and normal life? The wife who betrayed my trust I pledged on our wedding day? The woman who is now a wanted fugitive because she deceived her country, conned the government, and exploited the fragile emotional state of a lonely man? Is he sorry for the two years I lost with Sydney? Sorry that those two years are irretrievable and are forever lost in the perpetual motion of time? Or is he sorry for the man that once had purpose and reason is now nothing more than the void that fills a black hole?
Is he sorry that I am now a man who feels nothing?
“Thank you.” The two words are dry of emotion and lacking gratitude making the expression hollow. Dixon mutely nods in recognition and is also his form of a goodbye before exiting through the door that serves as both an entrance and exit. I return to my original task of loosening my tie as I remove my presence from the debriefing room leaving it vacant - something my heart is familiar with.
Stepping out in one of the hallways of the labyrinth of the Joint Task Facility, I let my eyes scan the scenery before me; agents, analysts, and strategists are buzzing around with multiple tasks on mind like programmed worker bees.
And in every one of my colleagues I see her.
I see her deceit carved into every bare wall; the graffiti is a constant reminder of my failure. I can smell her treachery in every room, the rancid odour polluting the air making breathing arduous. I can hear her fallacies echoing in every corridor, her fictitious affections slapping me in the face.
A junior analyst engrossed with a seemingly important file collides into my form sending papers airborne as they escape the firm hold of several paper clips. Disinterestedly but somewhat annoyed I focus my attention to the panicky analyst as she struggles to reclaim the papers reveling in their freedom as they flutter towards the ground. The analyst mutters disjointed phrases of regret, but only the blondeness of her hair registers in my mind igniting a multitude of memories and emotions of a person I rather forget. As a sign of her remorse, she briefly touches my arm, but I quickly recoil from the contact not so much because I refuse physical proximity with everyone, but because her physical familiarity to Lauren makes my blood boil.
I unconsciously shudder at the memory of Lauren’s provocative caresses, her seductive touches, her (literally) devilish stroking…
It feels like acid burning my skin to know that none of it was real and - more painfully - all of it was done to manipulate me. Since she has left her fingers no longer inflame my skin as they dance around my body but her actions have left scars for me to bear and for everyone to see my inadequacy.
Don’t loose control. Don’t let her win.
Several deep breaths quell the angered emotions running rampant in my mind and they dissipate into the ether. Putting one foot in front of the other I build up momentum as I walk into the heart of the JTF, crossing the turbulent room to arrive at my orderly desk where several files sit untouched. Under the collar of my business shirt my tie rests half done and I habitually wipe my hand across the expanse of my forehead, but the infamous wrinkles no longer reside there as I feel the smoothness of my skin.
“Uh, Mr. Vau – I mean, Agent Vaughn.” I hear Marshall attempt to gain my attention while nervously fiddling with the latest gadget he has built for the CIA. “Hi, how are you? I just, uh, wanted to see how you were doing given what happened in the past week. Just thinking about it, it makes sense why Lauren kept her maiden name…” Marshall prattles on as I stare at him blankly but make no effort to halt his ramblings. “I never thought Reed was as catchy as Vaughn but of course that comes down to personal preference and…I’m not really helping am I?” He finishes rather meekly and looks down at the gadget in his hands in embarrassment.
“I’m fine Marshall.” I try applying my best pseudo smile but my half-hearted attempt results in a lazy curving of my lips. “Thanks for asking.”
Retreating to his desk Marshall offers one last comment. “You’re very welcome. And it’s good to see you smile again.”
Watching Marshall disappear in the commotion of the JTF Jack crosses my line of sight and before I can divert my gaze he catches my stare and saunters towards me. The thought of Jack walking towards me use to make me squeamish and I would feel like a child who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but that was before I stopped caring about repercussions and responsibilities; before I stopped caring.
“Agent Vaughn, you’ve finished your debrief with Dixon?” I notice Jack’s customary cold, detached gaze is warmer than what he usually uses with me and I slightly nod my head in response.
“Good.” Jack states but I sense he wants to say more as he discreetly shifts under the scrutiny of my waiting gaze. “Having experience a similar duplicity from a trusted one myself, I understand what you are feeling. And while I have always had my daughter’s happiness and well-being as my first priority, it is evident that her happiness equates to you.”
I let Jack’s words soak in and the revelation of his admission swirls in my mind but it never settles down. “Do you really believe that Jack?”
“Yes.” Direct, concise and confident.
“Then you’re not as perceptive as I believed you to be.”
Unfazed by my frosty attitude, Jack perseveres. “I know I have been less than thrilled at the thought of you and Sydney developing an intimate relationship outside the role of coworkers.” I raise my eyebrows curiously at Jack’s gross understatement. “But even I have learnt that some things are inevitable.”
“So it was inevitable that I was going to betray Sydney no matter what happened?”
“Sydney needs you. There is only so much I can do for her.” Jack conveniently avoids my question and his insistence intensifies. “You’re indifference will not stop the pain nor will it stop Sydney worrying about you. Do you really think your decision to - ”
“I’m fine.” Finally growing tiresome of Jack’s speech I cut him off, as I am eager to be left alone. “Thank you for expressing your concern. I’ll take it into consideration.” With that I turn away from Jack not giving him the opportunity to respond.
Unnerved by my insouciance Jack gives one last comment. “I thought you should know that we have a new lead on Lauren.”
“Good to hear.” I reply disinterestedly as I feel his stern eyes survey me in scrutiny one final time before respecting my wishes and leaving me to my isolation.
No more than a few minutes pass before Weiss happens to stumble by my desk. “You talked to Jack?” Weiss stands beside my desk as I slowly lift my eyes to him, impartially acknowledging his presence, but I let silence greet his question, which forces him to press the question further. “Did he tell you we have a new lead on your wi – I mean, Lauren?”
I don’t flinch at Weiss’s accidental slip of the tongue and reply in a clipped tone. “He did.”
“And?” Weiss retrieves a vacant chair from an adjacent desk and sits next to mine so he can be eye level with me.
I stop rifling through my files and look at Weiss pointedly, a stern expression residing on my face as I impatiently wait for Weiss to elaborate so I can finally be left alone for more than five minutes.
“You’re not even vaguely interested in what’s happening?”
“She’s already wasted two years of my life.” I state, my exterior remaining surprisingly placid in such an emotionally heavy topic. “Why should I waste anymore time on her?”
“You know you can say her name.” Weiss’s sincerity exudes from his eyes and in every word but it only fuels my annoyance as I give an austere glare. “Seriously Mike, you don’t really care what happens?”
“I don’t care.” The truth is, I don’t care what happens to that b**** because I don’t care about anything anymore. I have learnt that emotional deficiency is paradise; that the nothingness filling my being prohibits the pain from battering my ruined heart. Weiss is completely oblivious to the double meaning of my answer and continues to persevere.
“Not even a little?”
“Are you done?” I ask almost exasperatedly as I slowly become perturbed by Weiss’s insistent prying. “I’m busy.”
I’m not the only one irritated by this futile bantering as Weiss shares his feelings. “Mike, you have to get out this…this rut! I know you’re feeling burnt from Lauren’s betrayal, we’re all feeling the same thing but you can’t go on living like this.”
“I haven’t gone back to drinking if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“What I’m talking about is you shutting down emotionally, pushing everyone away…it’s not the way to deal with this.”
“I see nothing wrong with it.” I speak the truth to Weiss with the hope that he would have some inkling of the immense, chronic pain of betrayal and that the only cure is to cease all feeling…to feel nothing.
“You can’t lock up all your feelings inside. You need to vent or else – “
“Contrary to what you think, I’m dealing with it just fine” I look at Weiss steadily for the first time in our conversation and I see his distraught of slowly losing his best friend to the grasp of darkness.
“That’s not true, you and I both know it.” Weiss leans in closer, desperation clinging to every word he speaks as he remembers losing his long time friend once and he will do everything humanely possible for it not to recur.
“Weiss just let it go.” I control the irritation from seeping into my words while I stack my files in a neat pile. “If I feel the need to cry I’ll give you a call.”
Leaning back on the chair Weiss eyes me suspiciously but remains silent knowing further argument is futile in spite of his dissatisfaction and desperation. “If you’re not gonna open up to me,” he rises from the chair and smoothes out his jacket, concluding his parting statement before leaving, “I know someone who you will open up to.”
I stare at Weiss quizzically not enjoying his cryptic comment but there is no need for me to decipher his message as I feel her presence fill the crowded JTF when she enters. There is no need for me to turn around to see her walking towards me for I can feel her presence strengthening with each passing second. I close my eyes to focus my energy on filtering her aura out of my system; I try not to let her presence penetrate the carcass of my soul.
It is a well-known fact that I have been avoiding Sydney for the past week. Ever since we found out who the mole was for the Covenant I have been keeping maximum distance and minimal contact between her and I. She knows the game I am playing - I have played it before. The rules are still the same and so is the aim of the game: stop hurting Sydney.
But I can’t help the sensation of her close proximity enchanting my heart; I can’t stop the rampaging emotions escaping from the prison of my heart to begin coursing throughout my body; I can’t ignore the deafening pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. The amalgamation of sensations is almost overwhelming my logic and rationality…almost dispelling the sting and heartache…almost.
You’re doing this for Sydney’s own good. It’s always for Sydney.
Opening my eyes I let reality sink in. I harden my features, detain my emotions, and reinforce the wall I have built around my dilapidated heart as I wait for the inevitable to arrive.
“Vaughn, can we talk?”
-------------------------
Thanks for reading
Should I leave it there or TBC?
Author: me
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't sue.
Summary: Set after Unveiled when Vaughn discovers that Lauren is the mole for the Covenant. It goes AU after that as Vaughn deals with the betrayal by pushing everyone away and shutting down emotionally. Is there anyone that can make him feel again?
A/N: I couldn't let this fic sit on my computer for any longer and while I promised myself I would finish writing all the chapters before posting it, I'm weak so now I'm posting it, lol. It's unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.
I think I've bitten more than I can chew. I start a fic when I have exams in a week :doh: Also, I'm a slow writer
so I'll try my best with updating at regular intervals. Finally, this has also been posted at sd-1.net.
----------------------
Chapter One
----------------------
Nothing.
The void that fills a black hole…the abyss that occupies the depths of the ocean.
Feel nothing.
Incarceration to a prison cell devoid of everything but nothingness; a plague upon my life, incapacitating my ability to feel; a malignant tumor growing inside, eliminating not only the pain and despair but also the joy and ecstasy of life.
I feel nothing.
The solution to my problem…
The cure to my disease…
------------------------------------------------
“Any problems, Agent Vaughn?”
“No sir.”
“Very well. You’re dismissed.”
I rise from my chair in unison with Dixon and obediently push the chair to its designated position beneath the long conference table. To avoid conversation with Dixon - the only other occupant in the debriefing room - I attempt to loosen the vice grip my tie has on my airway.
“Vaughn.” Dixon’s voice reverberates in the sterile debriefing room, bouncing off the blank walls, halting my actions and thoughts. Looking in his eyes I see understanding, mixed with pity and a touch of condolence creating a cocktail of sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Is he sorry for the loss of my wife and normal life? The wife who betrayed my trust I pledged on our wedding day? The woman who is now a wanted fugitive because she deceived her country, conned the government, and exploited the fragile emotional state of a lonely man? Is he sorry for the two years I lost with Sydney? Sorry that those two years are irretrievable and are forever lost in the perpetual motion of time? Or is he sorry for the man that once had purpose and reason is now nothing more than the void that fills a black hole?
Is he sorry that I am now a man who feels nothing?
“Thank you.” The two words are dry of emotion and lacking gratitude making the expression hollow. Dixon mutely nods in recognition and is also his form of a goodbye before exiting through the door that serves as both an entrance and exit. I return to my original task of loosening my tie as I remove my presence from the debriefing room leaving it vacant - something my heart is familiar with.
Stepping out in one of the hallways of the labyrinth of the Joint Task Facility, I let my eyes scan the scenery before me; agents, analysts, and strategists are buzzing around with multiple tasks on mind like programmed worker bees.
And in every one of my colleagues I see her.
I see her deceit carved into every bare wall; the graffiti is a constant reminder of my failure. I can smell her treachery in every room, the rancid odour polluting the air making breathing arduous. I can hear her fallacies echoing in every corridor, her fictitious affections slapping me in the face.
A junior analyst engrossed with a seemingly important file collides into my form sending papers airborne as they escape the firm hold of several paper clips. Disinterestedly but somewhat annoyed I focus my attention to the panicky analyst as she struggles to reclaim the papers reveling in their freedom as they flutter towards the ground. The analyst mutters disjointed phrases of regret, but only the blondeness of her hair registers in my mind igniting a multitude of memories and emotions of a person I rather forget. As a sign of her remorse, she briefly touches my arm, but I quickly recoil from the contact not so much because I refuse physical proximity with everyone, but because her physical familiarity to Lauren makes my blood boil.
I unconsciously shudder at the memory of Lauren’s provocative caresses, her seductive touches, her (literally) devilish stroking…
It feels like acid burning my skin to know that none of it was real and - more painfully - all of it was done to manipulate me. Since she has left her fingers no longer inflame my skin as they dance around my body but her actions have left scars for me to bear and for everyone to see my inadequacy.
Don’t loose control. Don’t let her win.
Several deep breaths quell the angered emotions running rampant in my mind and they dissipate into the ether. Putting one foot in front of the other I build up momentum as I walk into the heart of the JTF, crossing the turbulent room to arrive at my orderly desk where several files sit untouched. Under the collar of my business shirt my tie rests half done and I habitually wipe my hand across the expanse of my forehead, but the infamous wrinkles no longer reside there as I feel the smoothness of my skin.
“Uh, Mr. Vau – I mean, Agent Vaughn.” I hear Marshall attempt to gain my attention while nervously fiddling with the latest gadget he has built for the CIA. “Hi, how are you? I just, uh, wanted to see how you were doing given what happened in the past week. Just thinking about it, it makes sense why Lauren kept her maiden name…” Marshall prattles on as I stare at him blankly but make no effort to halt his ramblings. “I never thought Reed was as catchy as Vaughn but of course that comes down to personal preference and…I’m not really helping am I?” He finishes rather meekly and looks down at the gadget in his hands in embarrassment.
“I’m fine Marshall.” I try applying my best pseudo smile but my half-hearted attempt results in a lazy curving of my lips. “Thanks for asking.”
Retreating to his desk Marshall offers one last comment. “You’re very welcome. And it’s good to see you smile again.”
Watching Marshall disappear in the commotion of the JTF Jack crosses my line of sight and before I can divert my gaze he catches my stare and saunters towards me. The thought of Jack walking towards me use to make me squeamish and I would feel like a child who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but that was before I stopped caring about repercussions and responsibilities; before I stopped caring.
“Agent Vaughn, you’ve finished your debrief with Dixon?” I notice Jack’s customary cold, detached gaze is warmer than what he usually uses with me and I slightly nod my head in response.
“Good.” Jack states but I sense he wants to say more as he discreetly shifts under the scrutiny of my waiting gaze. “Having experience a similar duplicity from a trusted one myself, I understand what you are feeling. And while I have always had my daughter’s happiness and well-being as my first priority, it is evident that her happiness equates to you.”
I let Jack’s words soak in and the revelation of his admission swirls in my mind but it never settles down. “Do you really believe that Jack?”
“Yes.” Direct, concise and confident.
“Then you’re not as perceptive as I believed you to be.”
Unfazed by my frosty attitude, Jack perseveres. “I know I have been less than thrilled at the thought of you and Sydney developing an intimate relationship outside the role of coworkers.” I raise my eyebrows curiously at Jack’s gross understatement. “But even I have learnt that some things are inevitable.”
“So it was inevitable that I was going to betray Sydney no matter what happened?”
“Sydney needs you. There is only so much I can do for her.” Jack conveniently avoids my question and his insistence intensifies. “You’re indifference will not stop the pain nor will it stop Sydney worrying about you. Do you really think your decision to - ”
“I’m fine.” Finally growing tiresome of Jack’s speech I cut him off, as I am eager to be left alone. “Thank you for expressing your concern. I’ll take it into consideration.” With that I turn away from Jack not giving him the opportunity to respond.
Unnerved by my insouciance Jack gives one last comment. “I thought you should know that we have a new lead on Lauren.”
“Good to hear.” I reply disinterestedly as I feel his stern eyes survey me in scrutiny one final time before respecting my wishes and leaving me to my isolation.
No more than a few minutes pass before Weiss happens to stumble by my desk. “You talked to Jack?” Weiss stands beside my desk as I slowly lift my eyes to him, impartially acknowledging his presence, but I let silence greet his question, which forces him to press the question further. “Did he tell you we have a new lead on your wi – I mean, Lauren?”
I don’t flinch at Weiss’s accidental slip of the tongue and reply in a clipped tone. “He did.”
“And?” Weiss retrieves a vacant chair from an adjacent desk and sits next to mine so he can be eye level with me.
I stop rifling through my files and look at Weiss pointedly, a stern expression residing on my face as I impatiently wait for Weiss to elaborate so I can finally be left alone for more than five minutes.
“You’re not even vaguely interested in what’s happening?”
“She’s already wasted two years of my life.” I state, my exterior remaining surprisingly placid in such an emotionally heavy topic. “Why should I waste anymore time on her?”
“You know you can say her name.” Weiss’s sincerity exudes from his eyes and in every word but it only fuels my annoyance as I give an austere glare. “Seriously Mike, you don’t really care what happens?”
“I don’t care.” The truth is, I don’t care what happens to that b**** because I don’t care about anything anymore. I have learnt that emotional deficiency is paradise; that the nothingness filling my being prohibits the pain from battering my ruined heart. Weiss is completely oblivious to the double meaning of my answer and continues to persevere.
“Not even a little?”
“Are you done?” I ask almost exasperatedly as I slowly become perturbed by Weiss’s insistent prying. “I’m busy.”
I’m not the only one irritated by this futile bantering as Weiss shares his feelings. “Mike, you have to get out this…this rut! I know you’re feeling burnt from Lauren’s betrayal, we’re all feeling the same thing but you can’t go on living like this.”
“I haven’t gone back to drinking if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“What I’m talking about is you shutting down emotionally, pushing everyone away…it’s not the way to deal with this.”
“I see nothing wrong with it.” I speak the truth to Weiss with the hope that he would have some inkling of the immense, chronic pain of betrayal and that the only cure is to cease all feeling…to feel nothing.
“You can’t lock up all your feelings inside. You need to vent or else – “
“Contrary to what you think, I’m dealing with it just fine” I look at Weiss steadily for the first time in our conversation and I see his distraught of slowly losing his best friend to the grasp of darkness.
“That’s not true, you and I both know it.” Weiss leans in closer, desperation clinging to every word he speaks as he remembers losing his long time friend once and he will do everything humanely possible for it not to recur.
“Weiss just let it go.” I control the irritation from seeping into my words while I stack my files in a neat pile. “If I feel the need to cry I’ll give you a call.”
Leaning back on the chair Weiss eyes me suspiciously but remains silent knowing further argument is futile in spite of his dissatisfaction and desperation. “If you’re not gonna open up to me,” he rises from the chair and smoothes out his jacket, concluding his parting statement before leaving, “I know someone who you will open up to.”
I stare at Weiss quizzically not enjoying his cryptic comment but there is no need for me to decipher his message as I feel her presence fill the crowded JTF when she enters. There is no need for me to turn around to see her walking towards me for I can feel her presence strengthening with each passing second. I close my eyes to focus my energy on filtering her aura out of my system; I try not to let her presence penetrate the carcass of my soul.
It is a well-known fact that I have been avoiding Sydney for the past week. Ever since we found out who the mole was for the Covenant I have been keeping maximum distance and minimal contact between her and I. She knows the game I am playing - I have played it before. The rules are still the same and so is the aim of the game: stop hurting Sydney.
But I can’t help the sensation of her close proximity enchanting my heart; I can’t stop the rampaging emotions escaping from the prison of my heart to begin coursing throughout my body; I can’t ignore the deafening pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. The amalgamation of sensations is almost overwhelming my logic and rationality…almost dispelling the sting and heartache…almost.
You’re doing this for Sydney’s own good. It’s always for Sydney.
Opening my eyes I let reality sink in. I harden my features, detain my emotions, and reinforce the wall I have built around my dilapidated heart as I wait for the inevitable to arrive.
“Vaughn, can we talk?”
-------------------------
Thanks for reading
Should I leave it there or TBC?