LaurenRachael
Mommy, can I please have a snow plough?
Title: Gloomy Sunday
Author: Lauren
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Thank you TwizTV.com for the transcripts.
Summary: Vaughnie dies. *points at self* Cruel. No spoilers, but if you know or are spoiled, click (if you click and don't know, I will not be held responsible! ):
S4 spoilers.
A/N: Thank you Cai for betaing and the stomping!! I'm telling you, that bird is up to no good. It's already driven you insane (ie why you actually LIKE this fic ) This is a one-parter.
PLEASE REVIEW!
GLOOMY SUNDAY
Part I/I
I walk out of the hospital by my father's side in a daze; his hand is placed gently on my shoulder. I can't feel it though, I am numb. I know he is trying to comfort me, but the task is infeasible, for my mind is replaying the last moments I spent with him. Where I am being led is impertinent. I belong nowhere. Where I belong is with a man whose life was so hardheartedly stolen from me. The only thing that's left is the relic where he had remained during his years.
We enter my father's car, a symbolic CIA van, black. He backs out of the dull parking garage; I just stare out the passenger window. I watch the pavement pass beneath the tires, and it goes unacknowledged by my father and me as I count aloud the cracks in the faded tar. I am lost in my own secluded world, one that only consists of counting the crevices created over time. It's a simple world, I muse, one where one no one is malignant or sinful.
I reposition my gaze on the white line running the length of the seemingly endless road. I think about Vaughn, and how he was there for me, never ceasing. As the seconds are replaced by another, my focus is not. The line still continued on. I watch as it splits into two. I am going one way and he is going another. I look up, wiping the tears away before they come. I feel the warm, salty liquid coats my fingers. I will not let the tears see any more.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I close my eyes and remember.
*flashback*
"I'm sorry to call you, I just didn't know who else to call. My father and I were supposed to have dinner tonight. The first time since I was a kid. I can't even remember the last time… He just didn't show. He said he had work. He didn't have work. This isn't just about my dad. When I was in Morocco, the man who died... he was a friend of mine. He was a good man, who thought he was fighting for the right side, that he was working for the C.I.A.! He was lied to, and now he's dead. I had his blood on my hands!" I sobbed.
"Sydney..."
"I feel like I'm losing my mind! Like I don't even know who I am anymore, or what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it!"
The pager went off, and I fumbled in my purse for the repulsive plastic object. I finally located it and threw it angrily into the waves below.
"You just threw your beeper in the Pacific." He tells me with a lopsided grin.
I laugh through my tears, "I know…"
He takes a deep breath and takes a serious note as he begins, "Okay, listen to me. There's something you need to know... When you first walked into my office with that stupid Bozo hair, I thought you were crazy. I thought you might actually be a crazy person. But I watched you, and I read your statement, and I've seen... I've seen how you think, I've seen how you work, I've seen how you are in this job. In this job, you see darkness. You see the worst in people and though the jobs are different and the missions change, and the enemies have a thousand names, the one crucial thing, the one real responsibility you have is to not let your rage, and your resentment, and your disgust, darken you. When you're at your absolute lowest, at your most depressed, just remember that you can always... you know. You got my number."
That was when I realized, when I realized that I love this man. I grabbed his hand and cried. I would have done anything to be able to look at him. From that day forward I would do anything to bring down the Alliance.
//
Vaughn was in a hospital bed after getting infected with the deadly virus. I walked up to him and sat down on the stool.
"Hi."
"Hi. I talked to my mother, there's an antidote. I'm going to go get it." I said, determined.
"How dangerous?" I laugh to myself at how concerned he is with my safety.
"Getting the serum? Nah, it'll be easy. But I need to take some of your blood with me, okay?"
He looked away, and I wonder if he is afraid of the needle for a moment. I drew the blood, and capped the needle. "Couple of days, you'll be doing wind sprints." I tried to reassure not only him, but myself too.
He grabbed my hand and told me to be careful. I smiled.
//
"About last night..." I told him, assuming that he was going to give the "Just friends" speech.
"Is this going to be about Alice?"
"I know it's complicated—" I tried.
"We're not together anymore." He told me, simply.
"Since when?" I asked, trying the hardest not to smile.
"Since this morning. The truth is, we've been over for a long time." I cannot hide it any longer and I smiley widely.
"I was thinking, I can actually go to the CIA through the front door."
"…And I can actually give you a ride."
//
"I was gonna take you to the beach, Santa Barbara. We’d go out for a walk, maybe when the sun was setting. But now we’re here, and I don’t know what we’re jumping into. And I may never get another chance to do this again. Sometimes I wake up before you do, and I watch you sleep. And I’m overwhelmed because. . .you’re so amazing. And I don’t know why I’m lucky enough to have you in my life, but you’re here with me. And I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you trying to make you as happy as you make me."
"My God, Vaughn." I told him, shocked.
He pulled out a small velvet box, and reveals a white gold ring with a single diamond in the center. "Sydney Bristow, will you marry me?"
I kiss him once. "We’re gonna make it out of here."
"Is that a yes?" He asks me.
I kiss him again. I grin and said "Ask me on the beach."
*end flashback*
I trail my fingers gently across my leveled stomach, causing me to unwillingly take a shuddering breath.
It's a nightmare, I convince myself. Nothing like this could really happen. Vaughn isn't dead. When I wake up I'll be in his arms. We'll be in Santa Barbra. I feel my face distort as I utter the first words since I last spoke to Vaughn, "Am I dreaming?"
I pry my eyes open with the remaining strength in my fatigued body. I see my father's strong façade deteriorate, and morph into something I have not seen since I was six: fear; anguish. His lips part slightly, as if he was about to speak but then closes again. He looks confused and helpless. His poker face returned as quickly as it disappeared, and leaving me with my thoughts after a sorrowful shake of his head.
I clamp my eyes shut, pressing my chin into my chest silently praying that this will all end. Praying that he will come back to me.
[A/N: The italics are Jack's POV, I don't know why I put that in there, but it is. So deal with it.]
An hour later I help my daughter sit on the leather seat of the private jet. I recline it slightly and she tucks her legs beneath her. Her eyes remain shut and I don't think that she wants to see. I watch my baby girl for a moment, until the pilot advises that we take our seats. I stand up and reach for a blanket supplied by the CIA and drape it over her limp body. I bend down in front of her and place a kiss upon her clammy forehead.
My father dropped me back at the house and walked me inside. He made me some tea and sat with me on the couch. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he held me.
I know that he understands.
I wonder where we would be. Would Dad give him the fatherly speech at our wedding? Would Weiss crack a wise-ass joke to calm my nerves? My body tenses and I feel him pull me closer to him. It is consoling to have him here, now.
He strokes my arm, and I slowly feel myself drift off into the desolate confines of my dreams.
As I rise from my fitful sleep, I miss the emptiness that I felt. I feel alone now, my father has left. Vaughn is in an infinite slumber away from me, and I would do anything for him to awaken and to come back to me. I reach to the end of the couch and retrieve a pillow and hug it to my flesh.
Vaughn.
Vaughn.
"Vaughn" I whisper.
I will not let the tears through the barricade of my eyes. I wonder if tears will ever do me any good. They won't. I have shed far too many tears in my life. I do not think that the world is worth crying over. What has it ever done for me?
My pain will not diminish. It never will. Vaughn was ripped from my grasp by forces too large to compete with. I drop the pillow to the ground and straighten up. I reach with trembling hands to the underside of the coffee table. I slide a handgun out of a pocket and set it in my lap.
I run my quivering fingers across the cold metal, each bump pushing against the cushions of my fingertips. I could do two things, one, use it as it was intended. Two, put it back.
I cannot get Vaughn back, he is gone. I can choose to live with the pain and agony like I have done all of my life. I can live miserably, or I can numb the pain forever. I won't feel a thing.
As I pick up the firearm, I hear him. Him. Vaughn. My head shoots up and I scan the room. No one. I return my gaze to the metal object in my lap, and continue running my fingers across the smoothness.
"My guardian angel"
The words I spoke reverberate in my mind.
Carefully, I place the object on the table. I realize that even though he isn't able to hold me; touch me, he will always be with me. Whether it is in my memories, dreams or in my heart, he'll be along side me wherever I go, whatever I do. More than anything, I have his unborn child. I have the Vaughn and I made growing inside of me. Every time I look at her I will remember him. How much he loves us. I fondle the white gold ring he had presented me with on the plane, and I sigh and roll over, letting a tear make the agonizingly slow journey down my cheek for the first time.
Sunday is Gloomy,
My hours are slumberless,
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you
Gloomy Sunday
Sunday is gloomy
with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be flowers and prayers that are sad,
I know, let them not weep,
Let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream,
For in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday
Dreaming
I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you
Asleep in the deep of
My heart
Dear
Darling I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday
-Gloomy Sunday by Sarah McLachlan
Edit: FINISHED.
Author: Lauren
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Thank you TwizTV.com for the transcripts.
Summary: Vaughnie dies. *points at self* Cruel. No spoilers, but if you know or are spoiled, click (if you click and don't know, I will not be held responsible! ):
This is post 5.01, but for those of us who don't know that.. they can just believe that he died due to my evil storylines and not JJ's, right?
A/N: Thank you Cai for betaing and the stomping!! I'm telling you, that bird is up to no good. It's already driven you insane (ie why you actually LIKE this fic ) This is a one-parter.
PLEASE REVIEW!
GLOOMY SUNDAY
Part I/I
I walk out of the hospital by my father's side in a daze; his hand is placed gently on my shoulder. I can't feel it though, I am numb. I know he is trying to comfort me, but the task is infeasible, for my mind is replaying the last moments I spent with him. Where I am being led is impertinent. I belong nowhere. Where I belong is with a man whose life was so hardheartedly stolen from me. The only thing that's left is the relic where he had remained during his years.
We enter my father's car, a symbolic CIA van, black. He backs out of the dull parking garage; I just stare out the passenger window. I watch the pavement pass beneath the tires, and it goes unacknowledged by my father and me as I count aloud the cracks in the faded tar. I am lost in my own secluded world, one that only consists of counting the crevices created over time. It's a simple world, I muse, one where one no one is malignant or sinful.
I reposition my gaze on the white line running the length of the seemingly endless road. I think about Vaughn, and how he was there for me, never ceasing. As the seconds are replaced by another, my focus is not. The line still continued on. I watch as it splits into two. I am going one way and he is going another. I look up, wiping the tears away before they come. I feel the warm, salty liquid coats my fingers. I will not let the tears see any more.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I close my eyes and remember.
*flashback*
"I'm sorry to call you, I just didn't know who else to call. My father and I were supposed to have dinner tonight. The first time since I was a kid. I can't even remember the last time… He just didn't show. He said he had work. He didn't have work. This isn't just about my dad. When I was in Morocco, the man who died... he was a friend of mine. He was a good man, who thought he was fighting for the right side, that he was working for the C.I.A.! He was lied to, and now he's dead. I had his blood on my hands!" I sobbed.
"Sydney..."
"I feel like I'm losing my mind! Like I don't even know who I am anymore, or what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it!"
The pager went off, and I fumbled in my purse for the repulsive plastic object. I finally located it and threw it angrily into the waves below.
"You just threw your beeper in the Pacific." He tells me with a lopsided grin.
I laugh through my tears, "I know…"
He takes a deep breath and takes a serious note as he begins, "Okay, listen to me. There's something you need to know... When you first walked into my office with that stupid Bozo hair, I thought you were crazy. I thought you might actually be a crazy person. But I watched you, and I read your statement, and I've seen... I've seen how you think, I've seen how you work, I've seen how you are in this job. In this job, you see darkness. You see the worst in people and though the jobs are different and the missions change, and the enemies have a thousand names, the one crucial thing, the one real responsibility you have is to not let your rage, and your resentment, and your disgust, darken you. When you're at your absolute lowest, at your most depressed, just remember that you can always... you know. You got my number."
That was when I realized, when I realized that I love this man. I grabbed his hand and cried. I would have done anything to be able to look at him. From that day forward I would do anything to bring down the Alliance.
//
Vaughn was in a hospital bed after getting infected with the deadly virus. I walked up to him and sat down on the stool.
"Hi."
"Hi. I talked to my mother, there's an antidote. I'm going to go get it." I said, determined.
"How dangerous?" I laugh to myself at how concerned he is with my safety.
"Getting the serum? Nah, it'll be easy. But I need to take some of your blood with me, okay?"
He looked away, and I wonder if he is afraid of the needle for a moment. I drew the blood, and capped the needle. "Couple of days, you'll be doing wind sprints." I tried to reassure not only him, but myself too.
He grabbed my hand and told me to be careful. I smiled.
//
"About last night..." I told him, assuming that he was going to give the "Just friends" speech.
"Is this going to be about Alice?"
"I know it's complicated—" I tried.
"We're not together anymore." He told me, simply.
"Since when?" I asked, trying the hardest not to smile.
"Since this morning. The truth is, we've been over for a long time." I cannot hide it any longer and I smiley widely.
"I was thinking, I can actually go to the CIA through the front door."
"…And I can actually give you a ride."
//
"I was gonna take you to the beach, Santa Barbara. We’d go out for a walk, maybe when the sun was setting. But now we’re here, and I don’t know what we’re jumping into. And I may never get another chance to do this again. Sometimes I wake up before you do, and I watch you sleep. And I’m overwhelmed because. . .you’re so amazing. And I don’t know why I’m lucky enough to have you in my life, but you’re here with me. And I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you trying to make you as happy as you make me."
"My God, Vaughn." I told him, shocked.
He pulled out a small velvet box, and reveals a white gold ring with a single diamond in the center. "Sydney Bristow, will you marry me?"
I kiss him once. "We’re gonna make it out of here."
"Is that a yes?" He asks me.
I kiss him again. I grin and said "Ask me on the beach."
*end flashback*
I trail my fingers gently across my leveled stomach, causing me to unwillingly take a shuddering breath.
It's a nightmare, I convince myself. Nothing like this could really happen. Vaughn isn't dead. When I wake up I'll be in his arms. We'll be in Santa Barbra. I feel my face distort as I utter the first words since I last spoke to Vaughn, "Am I dreaming?"
I pry my eyes open with the remaining strength in my fatigued body. I see my father's strong façade deteriorate, and morph into something I have not seen since I was six: fear; anguish. His lips part slightly, as if he was about to speak but then closes again. He looks confused and helpless. His poker face returned as quickly as it disappeared, and leaving me with my thoughts after a sorrowful shake of his head.
I clamp my eyes shut, pressing my chin into my chest silently praying that this will all end. Praying that he will come back to me.
[A/N: The italics are Jack's POV, I don't know why I put that in there, but it is. So deal with it.]
An hour later I help my daughter sit on the leather seat of the private jet. I recline it slightly and she tucks her legs beneath her. Her eyes remain shut and I don't think that she wants to see. I watch my baby girl for a moment, until the pilot advises that we take our seats. I stand up and reach for a blanket supplied by the CIA and drape it over her limp body. I bend down in front of her and place a kiss upon her clammy forehead.
My father dropped me back at the house and walked me inside. He made me some tea and sat with me on the couch. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he held me.
I know that he understands.
I wonder where we would be. Would Dad give him the fatherly speech at our wedding? Would Weiss crack a wise-ass joke to calm my nerves? My body tenses and I feel him pull me closer to him. It is consoling to have him here, now.
He strokes my arm, and I slowly feel myself drift off into the desolate confines of my dreams.
As I rise from my fitful sleep, I miss the emptiness that I felt. I feel alone now, my father has left. Vaughn is in an infinite slumber away from me, and I would do anything for him to awaken and to come back to me. I reach to the end of the couch and retrieve a pillow and hug it to my flesh.
Vaughn.
Vaughn.
"Vaughn" I whisper.
I will not let the tears through the barricade of my eyes. I wonder if tears will ever do me any good. They won't. I have shed far too many tears in my life. I do not think that the world is worth crying over. What has it ever done for me?
My pain will not diminish. It never will. Vaughn was ripped from my grasp by forces too large to compete with. I drop the pillow to the ground and straighten up. I reach with trembling hands to the underside of the coffee table. I slide a handgun out of a pocket and set it in my lap.
I run my quivering fingers across the cold metal, each bump pushing against the cushions of my fingertips. I could do two things, one, use it as it was intended. Two, put it back.
I cannot get Vaughn back, he is gone. I can choose to live with the pain and agony like I have done all of my life. I can live miserably, or I can numb the pain forever. I won't feel a thing.
As I pick up the firearm, I hear him. Him. Vaughn. My head shoots up and I scan the room. No one. I return my gaze to the metal object in my lap, and continue running my fingers across the smoothness.
"My guardian angel"
The words I spoke reverberate in my mind.
Carefully, I place the object on the table. I realize that even though he isn't able to hold me; touch me, he will always be with me. Whether it is in my memories, dreams or in my heart, he'll be along side me wherever I go, whatever I do. More than anything, I have his unborn child. I have the Vaughn and I made growing inside of me. Every time I look at her I will remember him. How much he loves us. I fondle the white gold ring he had presented me with on the plane, and I sigh and roll over, letting a tear make the agonizingly slow journey down my cheek for the first time.
Sunday is Gloomy,
My hours are slumberless,
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you
Gloomy Sunday
Sunday is gloomy
with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be flowers and prayers that are sad,
I know, let them not weep,
Let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream,
For in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday
Dreaming
I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you
Asleep in the deep of
My heart
Dear
Darling I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday
-Gloomy Sunday by Sarah McLachlan
Edit: FINISHED.