Title: Here Without You
Disclaimer: If I owned them uni wouldn’t be a problem, but alas, it is not so on both counts. Oh, I borrowed some Alias quotes from episodes in season 2 and I borrowed the title from Three Doors Down’s song. Top-notch song.
Rating: G
Summary: I don't want to spoil it. All I can say is read and (hopefully) it will all make sense.
Genre: S/V fluff and angst
A/N: Came up with this idea and started writing this a while ago. It hadn't been until recently that I finished it. Oh, this hasn't been beta'd so all mistakes are all my fault. I hope you like it, I understand if you don't....umm....enough of my rambling. Hope you enjoy! ^_^
--------------------------------------------
“Nervous?”
“Can you tell?”
“Nah, it just looks like you had a shower with your clothes on.”
My lips form into a wry smile as I glance at Weiss who is standing to my left and has a serious look on his face, which means he is not being serious at all. I shake my head knowingly, remembering that Weiss’s uncanny way of dealing with serious issues is through humour and he doesn’t disappoint.
“Thanks. Just what I needed.” The wry smile has not left my face. “Encouragement.”
“Its what the Weiss stud does.” A terrible imitation of an announcer’s voice accompanies his remark and he is fortunate that his date isn’t around to hear it because she would of left in haste. “When Weiss stud is needed, he delivers.”
“Weiss stud?” I ask incredulously and Weiss’s oddness tugs at the corners of my mouth, transforming the wry smile into a full-blown amused smirk. “And, since when was speaking in third person fashionable?”
“When Weiss stud started speaking in third person.”
Almost nothing would have stopped me from bursting out into an explosion of uncontrollable laughter, nearing me to the brink of tears.
Almost nothing.
The sight of Sydney adorned in a pristine, elegant wedding gown standing proudly at the end of a suddenly long aisle is the only thing that stops me from bursting into a fit of laughter. The sight of Sydney makes me want to jump for joy until I can no longer breathe; it makes me weak at the knees and I would gladly crumple into a heap at her feet to worship the ground she walks on; it makes me calm, knowing that our souls are entwined and now our lives will be, starting today.
Weiss whispers something that resembles a ‘good luck’ in my ear but it is swept away by the hurricane of emotions trampling through my mind, the howling wind unnecessarily reminding me of one person: Sydney.
I notice Jack’s burning glare in my direction but it doesn’t register as all my attention is focused on one person and one person only. Sydney looks immaculate in her spotless, white wedding gown; like an angel sent from the skies above to show one man a glimpse of heaven. I am still amazed that I am that man; I am the man Sydney chose; and I am more than willingly to move heaven and earth for her if need be.
After years of uncertainty, months of following protocol, and a lifetime of waiting, Sydney finally arrives at the base of the steps that lead to the altar and departs from Jack who has a vice grip on her hand. Reluctantly, he releases his hold on Sydney’s arm and fatherly kisses her on the cheek, but before he leaves her side, he gives me one last look; the look that demands his future son-in-law to protect his daughter’s life because if I don’t, I will need to protect my own life from him. Jack finally leaves because I give him a look that promises him I won’t disappoint and allows Sydney to ascend the steps to where the minister and I are waiting patiently.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
And I am giddy all over again. You heard it, a mature man is giddy; the wonders this woman does to me never cease to amaze me.
“Stop acting like a fifteen year-old girl.” Weiss harshly whispers in my ear but it is loud enough that Sydney hears the comment as well, to which she smiles, dimples and all. With Weiss’s remarks I usually become agitated quickly but now I casually brush it off because I will be content for the rest of my life if this is the feeling Sydney ignites in me; Weiss stud can remark all he wants, we both know where the mature-man-giddy-as-a-fifteen-year-old-girl wants to be.
“Shall we wait before we start the proceedings so you can confer with your best man?” The minister courteously inquires.
“No, it’s alright. I’ve waited too long for this moment.” Staring at Sydney for the entire time I notice her dimpled smile shines brighter than the sun itself and her eyes say the answer I knew had been there all along: Me too. The minister nods in understanding and begins the proceedings as Sydney and I stand, hand in hand, in front of all the people we hold dear, about to find our own place in heaven.
“This world proves to be turbulent and dark at times, but when one finds love, the world brightens in ways we never thought possible.” The minister dictates to the attendants and my eyes have not left Sydney’s as I am enticed by her smile, which rivals the beauty of a full moon on a cloudless, night sky. “Finding love is like finding a rare gem in the dirt and love is certainly one of the rarest gems in the world. To find someone who allows you to be yourself; someone who has accompanied you through the highs and lows of life; someone who knows the depths of your soul and yet still loves you unconditionally is truly a gift that one cannot put a price on.” I feel like my heart might explode from the overflow of happiness. My cheeks ache from smiling so much for so long but I shake off the complaints and soak in every word spoken by the minister and every passing second that I hold Sydney’s hand. “To have a companion; an ally; a partner to help you stand once again when you fall...to make every day a day worth living is something everyone looks for in life.”
The minister’s words reverberate within my soul and I am surprised I haven’t been blinded by Sydney’s high wattage smile. A passing silence envelops the church as all of its occupants take note of the truth of the words and how much they apply to our lives as CIA agents. The moment is stored permanently in my memory as the ceremony moves to the vows.
“I, Sydney Anne Bristow, take Michael C. Vaughn…” The deliberate articulation of my first name results in a redness to rise to Sydney’s cheeks, which I can only notice.
Sydney utterance of “Michael” proves that an ordinary, ubiquitous name such as mine can be spoken with such reverence; floating in a sea of bliss the two syllables ride on waves of passion, quickly approaching the shore where the waves break into surf revealing the ecstasy ignited by the vocalization of a single word.
Similar to Sydney’s effect on my life the feeling is indescribable so I let precedent to dictate my movements as my actions speak volumes my words could never reach. Slowly, tears form, gracefully leaving the restraints of my eyes to dance jovially down my cheeks, leaving footprints of elation and painting me in a shade of happiness unknown to man. I close my eyes, partly because of the overwhelming emotion, but mostly because of the need to savour every miniscule detail of this precise moment. Even though my eyes are closed I can see Sydney smiling…I can feel her smiling; the simple expression encapsulating all the beauty in the world and I know that the greatest artists in history could not replicate the beauty I can see…the beauty I can feel. With each passing second I step from one cloud to another, ascending to cloud nine – the doorway to seventh heaven – and I know she is waiting for me there and I have been waiting to get to her.
“Michael?” There it is again. The melody of two syllables waltzing to the tune of love in the air, bringing music to my ears, however, there is an increase in pitch at the end indicating a question.
Do you know any good jokes?
Vaughn, can I tell you something?
How are we going to stay awake today?
“Michael?” The uncharacteristic urgency is attached to the question causing me to awaken from my transcendent state of bliss and open my eyes.
“Lauren?” My confusion is palpable and is coated with the amalgam of emotional despair painting my question. Concern creases spring into action marring my forehead as I attempt to make sense of the situation before me.
“Michael, you’re crying.”
The utterance of my name no longer carries the same reverence and it is obvious that embedded feelings are not the reason for the utterance of my first name, but rather it is a habitual reason created through repetition.
The two syllables no longer waltz along in the air because there is no music to dance to.
My eyes scan the church brimming with people – Lauren’s parents, my mother, Dixon, Marshall and Carrie occupy the front pews on either side, while Weiss is standing studiously behind me. All eyes are fixated on me in a crisp, stylish tuxedo standing opposite Lauren adorned in a white wedding gown with a flowing train neatly piled to one side.
Similar to losing Sydney the feeling is indescribable and my actions speak volumes my words would never reach. Slowly, more tears form, escaping the fortress of my eyes to march down my cheeks with military precision and permanently staining me in a shade of misery unknown to man. The hands of grief grasp at my throat, constricting my ability to speak and making each breath laborious and painful, and it is only the watchful eyes of the congress steadily becoming puzzled by the pause in the ceremony that forces me to speak. It is the concern with a slight hint of impatience growing in Lauren’s eyes that forces me to lie.
“Sorry.” I swallow the truth and the lump in my throat. “I’m just so happy.”
“I know what you mean.” Reciprocated tears glistening in Lauren’s eyes are proof of her sentiment and she looks expectantly at the minister confirming her assent to complete the process.
“Do you, Michael C. Vaughn,”
Taking several deep breaths to regain equilibrium between my emotions, I listen intently to the minister but my heart, in tandem with my soul, cannot help but live out a fantasy that can be nothing more than a dream.
“Take Lauren Reed…”
Take Sydney Anne Bristow…
“To be your lawfully wedded wife…”
To be my lawfully wedded wife…
“To have and to hold…”
To have and to hold…
“Through sickness and health…”
Through sickness and health…
“’Til death do you part?”
Til death does us part…
My response comes easily, the words roll off my tongue without a second’s thought, but my declaration of love and devotion is directed to two different people: Lauren who is in my mind and reality, and Sydney who is in my heart and fantasy.
“I do.”
The End
---------------------------------------
Thanks for reading ^_^ Feedback is appreciated
Disclaimer: If I owned them uni wouldn’t be a problem, but alas, it is not so on both counts. Oh, I borrowed some Alias quotes from episodes in season 2 and I borrowed the title from Three Doors Down’s song. Top-notch song.
Rating: G
Summary: I don't want to spoil it. All I can say is read and (hopefully) it will all make sense.
Genre: S/V fluff and angst
A/N: Came up with this idea and started writing this a while ago. It hadn't been until recently that I finished it. Oh, this hasn't been beta'd so all mistakes are all my fault. I hope you like it, I understand if you don't....umm....enough of my rambling. Hope you enjoy! ^_^
--------------------------------------------
“Nervous?”
“Can you tell?”
“Nah, it just looks like you had a shower with your clothes on.”
My lips form into a wry smile as I glance at Weiss who is standing to my left and has a serious look on his face, which means he is not being serious at all. I shake my head knowingly, remembering that Weiss’s uncanny way of dealing with serious issues is through humour and he doesn’t disappoint.
“Thanks. Just what I needed.” The wry smile has not left my face. “Encouragement.”
“Its what the Weiss stud does.” A terrible imitation of an announcer’s voice accompanies his remark and he is fortunate that his date isn’t around to hear it because she would of left in haste. “When Weiss stud is needed, he delivers.”
“Weiss stud?” I ask incredulously and Weiss’s oddness tugs at the corners of my mouth, transforming the wry smile into a full-blown amused smirk. “And, since when was speaking in third person fashionable?”
“When Weiss stud started speaking in third person.”
Almost nothing would have stopped me from bursting out into an explosion of uncontrollable laughter, nearing me to the brink of tears.
Almost nothing.
The sight of Sydney adorned in a pristine, elegant wedding gown standing proudly at the end of a suddenly long aisle is the only thing that stops me from bursting into a fit of laughter. The sight of Sydney makes me want to jump for joy until I can no longer breathe; it makes me weak at the knees and I would gladly crumple into a heap at her feet to worship the ground she walks on; it makes me calm, knowing that our souls are entwined and now our lives will be, starting today.
Weiss whispers something that resembles a ‘good luck’ in my ear but it is swept away by the hurricane of emotions trampling through my mind, the howling wind unnecessarily reminding me of one person: Sydney.
I notice Jack’s burning glare in my direction but it doesn’t register as all my attention is focused on one person and one person only. Sydney looks immaculate in her spotless, white wedding gown; like an angel sent from the skies above to show one man a glimpse of heaven. I am still amazed that I am that man; I am the man Sydney chose; and I am more than willingly to move heaven and earth for her if need be.
After years of uncertainty, months of following protocol, and a lifetime of waiting, Sydney finally arrives at the base of the steps that lead to the altar and departs from Jack who has a vice grip on her hand. Reluctantly, he releases his hold on Sydney’s arm and fatherly kisses her on the cheek, but before he leaves her side, he gives me one last look; the look that demands his future son-in-law to protect his daughter’s life because if I don’t, I will need to protect my own life from him. Jack finally leaves because I give him a look that promises him I won’t disappoint and allows Sydney to ascend the steps to where the minister and I are waiting patiently.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
And I am giddy all over again. You heard it, a mature man is giddy; the wonders this woman does to me never cease to amaze me.
“Stop acting like a fifteen year-old girl.” Weiss harshly whispers in my ear but it is loud enough that Sydney hears the comment as well, to which she smiles, dimples and all. With Weiss’s remarks I usually become agitated quickly but now I casually brush it off because I will be content for the rest of my life if this is the feeling Sydney ignites in me; Weiss stud can remark all he wants, we both know where the mature-man-giddy-as-a-fifteen-year-old-girl wants to be.
“Shall we wait before we start the proceedings so you can confer with your best man?” The minister courteously inquires.
“No, it’s alright. I’ve waited too long for this moment.” Staring at Sydney for the entire time I notice her dimpled smile shines brighter than the sun itself and her eyes say the answer I knew had been there all along: Me too. The minister nods in understanding and begins the proceedings as Sydney and I stand, hand in hand, in front of all the people we hold dear, about to find our own place in heaven.
“This world proves to be turbulent and dark at times, but when one finds love, the world brightens in ways we never thought possible.” The minister dictates to the attendants and my eyes have not left Sydney’s as I am enticed by her smile, which rivals the beauty of a full moon on a cloudless, night sky. “Finding love is like finding a rare gem in the dirt and love is certainly one of the rarest gems in the world. To find someone who allows you to be yourself; someone who has accompanied you through the highs and lows of life; someone who knows the depths of your soul and yet still loves you unconditionally is truly a gift that one cannot put a price on.” I feel like my heart might explode from the overflow of happiness. My cheeks ache from smiling so much for so long but I shake off the complaints and soak in every word spoken by the minister and every passing second that I hold Sydney’s hand. “To have a companion; an ally; a partner to help you stand once again when you fall...to make every day a day worth living is something everyone looks for in life.”
The minister’s words reverberate within my soul and I am surprised I haven’t been blinded by Sydney’s high wattage smile. A passing silence envelops the church as all of its occupants take note of the truth of the words and how much they apply to our lives as CIA agents. The moment is stored permanently in my memory as the ceremony moves to the vows.
“I, Sydney Anne Bristow, take Michael C. Vaughn…” The deliberate articulation of my first name results in a redness to rise to Sydney’s cheeks, which I can only notice.
Sydney utterance of “Michael” proves that an ordinary, ubiquitous name such as mine can be spoken with such reverence; floating in a sea of bliss the two syllables ride on waves of passion, quickly approaching the shore where the waves break into surf revealing the ecstasy ignited by the vocalization of a single word.
Similar to Sydney’s effect on my life the feeling is indescribable so I let precedent to dictate my movements as my actions speak volumes my words could never reach. Slowly, tears form, gracefully leaving the restraints of my eyes to dance jovially down my cheeks, leaving footprints of elation and painting me in a shade of happiness unknown to man. I close my eyes, partly because of the overwhelming emotion, but mostly because of the need to savour every miniscule detail of this precise moment. Even though my eyes are closed I can see Sydney smiling…I can feel her smiling; the simple expression encapsulating all the beauty in the world and I know that the greatest artists in history could not replicate the beauty I can see…the beauty I can feel. With each passing second I step from one cloud to another, ascending to cloud nine – the doorway to seventh heaven – and I know she is waiting for me there and I have been waiting to get to her.
“Michael?” There it is again. The melody of two syllables waltzing to the tune of love in the air, bringing music to my ears, however, there is an increase in pitch at the end indicating a question.
Do you know any good jokes?
Vaughn, can I tell you something?
How are we going to stay awake today?
“Michael?” The uncharacteristic urgency is attached to the question causing me to awaken from my transcendent state of bliss and open my eyes.
“Lauren?” My confusion is palpable and is coated with the amalgam of emotional despair painting my question. Concern creases spring into action marring my forehead as I attempt to make sense of the situation before me.
“Michael, you’re crying.”
The utterance of my name no longer carries the same reverence and it is obvious that embedded feelings are not the reason for the utterance of my first name, but rather it is a habitual reason created through repetition.
The two syllables no longer waltz along in the air because there is no music to dance to.
My eyes scan the church brimming with people – Lauren’s parents, my mother, Dixon, Marshall and Carrie occupy the front pews on either side, while Weiss is standing studiously behind me. All eyes are fixated on me in a crisp, stylish tuxedo standing opposite Lauren adorned in a white wedding gown with a flowing train neatly piled to one side.
Similar to losing Sydney the feeling is indescribable and my actions speak volumes my words would never reach. Slowly, more tears form, escaping the fortress of my eyes to march down my cheeks with military precision and permanently staining me in a shade of misery unknown to man. The hands of grief grasp at my throat, constricting my ability to speak and making each breath laborious and painful, and it is only the watchful eyes of the congress steadily becoming puzzled by the pause in the ceremony that forces me to speak. It is the concern with a slight hint of impatience growing in Lauren’s eyes that forces me to lie.
“Sorry.” I swallow the truth and the lump in my throat. “I’m just so happy.”
“I know what you mean.” Reciprocated tears glistening in Lauren’s eyes are proof of her sentiment and she looks expectantly at the minister confirming her assent to complete the process.
“Do you, Michael C. Vaughn,”
Taking several deep breaths to regain equilibrium between my emotions, I listen intently to the minister but my heart, in tandem with my soul, cannot help but live out a fantasy that can be nothing more than a dream.
“Take Lauren Reed…”
Take Sydney Anne Bristow…
“To be your lawfully wedded wife…”
To be my lawfully wedded wife…
“To have and to hold…”
To have and to hold…
“Through sickness and health…”
Through sickness and health…
“’Til death do you part?”
Til death does us part…
My response comes easily, the words roll off my tongue without a second’s thought, but my declaration of love and devotion is directed to two different people: Lauren who is in my mind and reality, and Sydney who is in my heart and fantasy.
“I do.”
The End
---------------------------------------
Thanks for reading ^_^ Feedback is appreciated
