This is the first fic I ever started, over a year ago. And I didn't finish it until well after the S3 finale. But so far, it is my favorite out of all the ones I've written. I hope you enjoy. ^_^
Title: The Familiar
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG-13
When: Post S3/Resurrection (but before Wittenburg)
Summary: Vaughn's memories haunt him, though he wants to move on
Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were, things would be very different, and I would be a happy camper
~*~
It happens every day. People refuse to leave that which they know. An old couple who has lived in their home for decades won't move, even though their neighborhood is being taken over by crime and drug dealers. A disgruntled employee won't leave the job he despises, and venture into the job market. A battered woman won't leave her abusive partner.
Some say the evil that is known is better than the good that is unknown. I don't know about that.
Others say we become so accustomed to ways of thinking, ways of acting, ways of being, that it's difficult to change. That sounds a little more like it.
All I know is that my mind keeps returning to her. I know it shouldn't. After all that's happened, and all that I now know, it shouldn't. But I felt love for her, even though she may have manipulated me to. I gave my life to her, something I haven't done for anyone else. Yes, I regret it now. I keep asking myself what it was that made me fall prey to her. Was I just that blinded by grief and the need to have someone, something to hold onto? And with all the evil she committed, with the sad fact that my life for the past two and a half years was just an illusion, the memories remain as real to me as they were before I discovered the truth. I still think of them.
It happens every day.
***
They released me from the hospital with the admonition “No more heroics.” Once again, extraordinary circumstances prevented federal charges from being brought up on me, and the orderly loaded me into a waiting cab instead of a CIA sedan.
I absentmindedly gave the driver my address, and stared out the window throughout the ride, though I wasn’t really seeing anything. I had turned my mind inward, so I could excise the cobwebs there. After Sydney returned me to the hospital, they kept me constantly doped up on painkillers and sedatives. I felt fortunate that I remembered my name, much less my address.
The past few weeks had blurred by so quickly, that only now I had the peace to process recent events. The time, also. Dixon gave me a combined medical and administrative leave, for an indefinite period of time. He told me he wasn’t sure what would take longer, my healing, or the higher-ups deciding what in hell to do with me. I wasn’t sure if I should feel amused or scared.
The driver jolted me out of my thoughts with a gruff “we’re here.” I fished my wallet out of my pocket and paid him the fare, with a generous tip. He grinned widely at me as I got out.
I had nothing with me except the clothes on my back, and the usual things a man carries in his pockets. Weiss was nice enough to bring me a change of clothing, and get rid of my bloodstained shirt. He’d also offered me a ride home today, along with several other people, but I refused them all. I wanted to make this journey alone.
I stood there, in front of my house, daring myself to go in.
I anxiously stood outside the house, wanting to go in and double-check everything, but also wanting to be outside when she pulled up. The real estate agent watched me fidget with amusement, and I got the feeling she sells many houses to men like me.
Since the summer started, and school ended, my suddenly open schedule allowed me to shop around for houses, but she was too busy to go with me.
“I trust your judgment,” was all she would say, with one of her mysterious smiles.
By mid-August, I’d found a half-dozen good houses, but only one of them I truly wanted. It was located in a beautiful neighborhood, near good shopping, and good schools. It had four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a family room, formal dining room, breakfast nook, garage, and a large backyard. Perfect for a family about to start.
Her car pulled up to the curb, and I hurried to open the door for her. She smiled at my enthusiasm.
“This is the first one, Michael?” I nodded, and secretly hoped it’d be the last.
The real estate agent escorted us up the sculpted walkway, and opened the door for us. As my bride-to-be entered the house, looking around in wonder, the agent remained silent, as I requested of her. I wanted the house to sell itself.
I urged my fiancée to explore by herself, while the agent and I remained in the foyer. After ten nervous minutes, she returned, a large smile lighting her face.
“Michael, I love it!” I smiled back and took her into my arms.
“Do you want to see the others?”
“Only if you want to show them to me.” I turned to the real estate agent.
“We’ll take it.”
I blinked my eyes, trying to clear the images from my mind. I looked again at my house, my home for the last two years, with disgust. I couldn’t allow myself to call this place my “home” anymore. The old cliché says home is where the heart is. Well, my heart certainly wasn't here.
I reached into my pocket for my keys. I felt thankful that Weiss parked my car in the driveway, and not the garage. I couldn’t go in right now. I knew at some point, I would have to, if only to move out, but I couldn’t now. My wounds felt too fresh.
I unlocked the driver’s door with one touch of the remote, opened it, and sat in the seat. I quickly started the engine, put it in gear, and backed out as fast as I could without squealing the tires. God only knew what the neighbors already thought, considering the CIA had agents searching the house while I was hospitalized.
In the hospital, Weiss asked me if I wanted them to stop. I didn’t care. If they wanted to carry away every last item she owned, I welcomed them to it. I only asked him to keep them from taking anything I had before I met her.
Thinking of Weiss, I made a quick decision to head over to his place. He’d be happy to know that I rejoined the living, breathing, non-hospitalized human race. Plus he wouldn’t pester me about “resting,” “not driving,” and "not drinking." As well as all those other things recent surgery patients aren’t supposed to do.
I drove into the familiar neighborhood, and as I turned down Weiss' street, I wondered if he could take another night of "Beers-and-Sorrows". I usually brought both, of course. However, now I only had one of those, and unfortunately, it wasn't the beers.
Before I could turn around to find a mini-mart, I spotted a driveway with a familiar car parked in it, and it startled a recollection out of me. Sydney lived only a few houses down from Weiss. Before I could think too hard about it, I felt compelled to stop there.
I parked right in front, my passenger door in line with her front door. I turned off the car, but still sat there for a few minutes, unsure if I should get out. Though we shared a kiss in Palermo, I still didn’t know how Sydney felt, if she forgave me. I wanted to talk to her so much on the way home, but she forbade me to exert myself in any fashion, including emotionally. Plus, it seemed that other thoughts consumed her attention.
Sydney never came to see me in the hospital, nor did she call me. In one of my few lucid moments, I asked Weiss about her, but he had nothing to say except she hadn’t left her house once after dropping me off at the hospital. This hurt, and I didn’t want to disturb her if she didn’t want to see me. I didn’t want to take the chance of driving her further away.
I was parked in front of the hotel, waiting in the car I rented for the evening. I felt very nervous, palms sweaty, butterflies in the stomach, the whole bit. But it wasn't for the usual reasons. Though this was our first formal date, I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go through with this. Did I want to start this painful dance all over again?
Just a few dates, I told myself. Just a few for the distraction. And she can be distracting.
She stepped out of the hotel door then, looking quite stunning in a short black dress. She saw me immediately, came to the car, and got in. She smiled radiantly at me. For some reason, it put me completely at ease. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
"So Michael, where are you taking me?"
It was the beginning of a wonderful evening.
Another memory came unbidden to my mind, taking me by complete surprise. It was not something I wanted to think about. She was not something I wanted to think about, not now, not ever. However, the memory, as painful as it was, did have the purpose of making my mind up for me. I got out of the car.
Even if Sydney didn’t need to see me, I needed to see her. And if she only allowed me a few minutes, I could live with that.
I noticed a strange motion in one of the front windows, and suddenly knew that I had been watched. Small surprise, considering what we do. The next moment Sydney came out the front door, walking towards me, smiling. I walked towards her, my relief creating its own smile. We met in the middle of the walkway, where we stood, arm's length apart.
"Vaughn, what are you doing here?" My smile turned kind of shy, and I lowered my head, then raised it back up to look at her.
"Well, I was just driving around, and then I felt like talking to somebody, and Weiss is probably sick of me whining at him so…" I paused, unsure of how to continue, unsure if I should tell her the entire reason. Syd saved me the trouble.
"It's okay. Come on in." I followed her inside, and she invited me to sit down while she went into the kitchen. "I'm going to have dinner in a little bit. Do you want some?" I turned around and faced her.
"Sure, what are you making?" Then I noticed there was nothing going on in the kitchen except Syd getting down plates, and I noticed that she looked strangely embarrassed. I wondered if I said something wrong.
"Actually, I don't really cook much anymore. I just…..don't." She looked down for a moment, and then smiled and continued. "Nah, my dad turned me on to this little Chinese place just a couple of streets away, and fortunately, they deliver."
She sat the plates down on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. "You want something to drink?" I nodded. "What do you want?"
"I'll just have whatever you're having." I remembered that Syd and I liked a lot of the same things where food and drink were concerned, so whatever she had would be good. I heard the sound of glass, and pouring. She came back into the living room and set down on the coffee table two glasses of her favorite red wine. Of course, that would be something she would have.
I looked at the glass in front of me with slight unease, wondering if alcohol was a good idea, in spite of my earlier intentions of drinking beer with Weiss. Syd caught my discomfort, and became immediately alarmed.
"Oh, Vaughn, I'm so sorry, do you want me to…" I interrupted her before she could take it away.
"No, no. It's okay. I just don't know if I should, considering," I hesitated, not ready to talk about my feelings yet. I usually felt confidence regarding alcohol and my emotional state. But I also knew that if anything would make me lose control, it would be Sydney. I hoped she took my vacillation as concern for my physical health, but she knew me too well.
Syd put her hand on my arm. "It's okay. I'll be here for you."
I rented an apartment in Paris that week. I’d been staying in small villages, but the peace and quiet was driving me insane. I hoped that here I would be able to lose myself in the crowds of bustling people.
Instead, I just found a local bar to get blitzed out of my mind in.
I was walking there for my nightly numbing when I heard someone say my name.
"Agent Vaughn?" I turned around to see a familiar blonde woman standing a few feet from me, looking at me questioningly. I tried to remember where I'd met her. That's right, at the debriefing, right after…no, can't think of that. But what's her name? Oh that's right, her name was…
"Agent Reed, right?" She smiled prettily, and walked over, holding out her hand.
"That's right. You can call me Lauren." I took her hand and shook it briefly. Her grip was somehow firm and delicate at the same time.
"Um, I guess you can call me Michael then. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, just here on some business, but it's been concluded, so now I'm taking a few free days. You?"
"I was, uh, taking some free time myself." She nodded her head, sympathy making an appearance on her face. A look of apology quickly replaced it.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You must've been going somewhere and I interrupted you." She placed her hand over her mouth in mild embarrassment.
"Um, no, I was just, uh, going for a walk." I suddenly felt ashamed of myself, and hung my head, my eyes searching the ground for a scrap of dignity. She gently took my hand, and I looked back up into her face. Sympathy took its place in her features again, accompanied by kindliness.
"I'm going to say something rather forward, and if I offend you, please let me know." She stared into my eyes, searching for an objection, I guessed. When she found none, and I didn't offer any, she continued. "I realize you've been through a lot lately, Michael. And though we're practically strangers, I want you to know that as long as I'm in town, I'll be here for you." I smiled sadly at her little spontaneous speech, and squeezed her hand.
"Thank you, Lauren. And no, it's not offensive at all." Actually, it was nice for once to have someone express sympathy that wasn't experiencing grief as well. Lauren brightened at my acceptance of her words, and started to tug me in the opposite direction from where I was going.
"I know this sweet little café just around the corner here. You're going to accompany me for coffee." How could I refuse? She had a hold on me, and was offering me something that I had too little of lately: comfort.
I lowered my head under the weight of yet another memory. I fought it off, glanced up at Syd and smiled.
"I know, you always are." Before she could reply, the doorbell rang.
Syd opened the door, and sure enough, the delivery guy stood there. He seemed young and unsure. I was betting this was his first job, and he hadn't been doing it long. Syd paid him, and he smiled a large, awkward, adolescent smile. She must've tipped him well. But then again, receiving anything from Syd would make most males smile.
She brought the food to the bar, and I joined her there, helping to set out the containers. We served ourselves from the little white boxes, and sat down at the bar to eat. We didn't really say much, just talking about the food, and I filled her in on my hospital stay. I felt as if the delivery guy left some of his awkwardness with the food, and watching Syd, it seemed as if she felt the same. After we finished, I offered to clean up. Syd smiled gratefully at me.
"It's been awhile since I've had someone around to help." I just nodded and got to work. Meanwhile, Syd refreshed our wineglasses, and took them back to the coffee table. I put the food in the fridge, and turned around to notice her standing in the middle of the living room, appearing as if she felt uncertain about something. I didn't have the time to guess why, because she noticed me noticing her, and motioned me over.
I returned to the living room, where we both sat on the couch, arm's length apart again. The awkwardness made itself manifest in here as well, leaving us unsure of speech. Syd overcame it first, and broke the silence.
"So, how are you doing?" She said it softly, hesitantly. I shrugged, then sighed.
"Okay, I guess. Well, not really." I took a drink, and gauged how much I wanted to open up to her. "It's been……difficult." She nodded, and reached over to touch my arm. The sensation of her gentle fingertips on my skin caused me to shudder inside. It wasn't like she hadn't touched me in comfort recently, it was just that for some reason (that I could probably fathom if I tried), I felt more open, more raw, more exposed.
"Vaughn," she started, before I spied a memory of her own chasing itself across her face. She smiled a little. "Michael…." I stopped her again.
"No, this time, 'Vaughn' is fine." I smiled back at her, but I knew my smile possessed no small amount of bitterness and irony in it. She smiled bigger, and nodded.
“Vaughn, I’m sorry.” I felt slightly confused. While I realized a world of things existed to be sorry for, I didn’t think a single one of them belonged to Sydney.
“For what?” Guilt clouded her features. Surely, she couldn’t feel bad for everything that’d happened?
“For not visiting you in the hospital.” Great, I assumed she was apologizing for the big things, when in reality she only expressed remorse for something small. The medication must’ve still been fogging my mind.
“It’s okay. I was drugged the whole time anyway. I probably wouldn't have recognized you.” She smiled with a small amount of humor.
“Yeah. It’s just, I was busy.” I suddenly noticed the compact dining table sitting a dozen feet behind the couch, next to the patio door. Piles of paper cluttered it, half obscuring her laptop.
I looked at her with a question in my eyes, but hers already held a ready answer of “please don’t ask.” I decided to let it go. We were so far away from the point where we could share everything. A small, melancholy part of me wondered if we’d ever be there again. I reached out and rubbed her arm.
“Well, we’re here now.” She nodded.
“Yeah.”
Another awkward silence hung between us, pregnant with things unsaid. I became frustrated with myself, wondering if I was about to make my coming here pointless. So much time had been wasted already, and here I sat, throwing away even more.
I had already wasted too much of my life. Spent too much time chasing ideals, too much time chasing dreams, too much time chasing things that ended up as ashes in my hands when I caught them.
Not anymore. I felt tired of hurting, tired of longing. I had in front of me a beautiful, charming, intelligent woman that would do anything for me. Before something happened to take her away from me, I needed to bind her to me, bind her to this life I wished to live.
So I knelt in front of that woman, pulling the small velvet box out of my pocket. Her eyes shone at me, clearly expectant. I didn’t even have to say anything, just lifted the lid, and revealed the gleaming diamond inside. She lunged at me, joining me on the restaurant floor, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Yes Michael! Oh yes!”
We held each other for long moments, and then regained out seats. The waiter brought us out a bottle of champagne we didn’t order.
“On the house,” he stated, with a knowing smile.
We toasted each other, and took a few silent sips. After finishing her glass, she grabbed my hand.
“Michael, with my parents’ resources, we can be married in three months.” She paused, somewhat hesitant. “If that’s not too fast for you.” I looked up at her and smiled into her still-shining eyes.
“No. It’s not at all too fast for me.” After all, the quicker this happened, the better. We would be married, then we would pull out of this tedious, dangerous life. It would be the “happily ever after” I’d dreamed about. I felt a small burst of sadness that my original dream wouldn’t come true.
But does life ever work out the way you plan it?
I swallowed down the rest of my wine, along with the memory. However, this one also spurred me to action. I had a chance to make things right, and I wouldn’t squander it.
I rose from the couch, and walked to the kitchen. I found the bottle of wine Syd opened, and refreshed my glass. Not quite ready to return to the living room, I stood in the kitchen, staring into my wine while swirling it.
“I didn’t mean to kill her.” The words popped out of my mouth without any prior thought. I’d given my speaking capabilities over to my heart. I turned around to glance at Syd. I could tell that she knew what I was talking about, but she needed to hear me say it. When it came to things this important, she always needed to hear me say it.
“Lauren. I didn’t mean to kill her.” Having pushed the unpleasant topic into the forefront, I felt enough steadiness to sit with Syd again. I grabbed the wine bottle, and rejoined her on the couch, sitting closer to her. She didn’t reply to my statement, which I liked. I needed to get these things out, uninterrupted, and I appreciated the fact she understood that.
“When I found out about her, I felt enraged. But not murderous. I wanted to see her rotting in prison.” I gulped, and took another drink of wine to banish the phantom lump in my throat. “But I wasn’t ready for what happened in Richmond. I was naïve to think I could conduct a raven mission without sleeping with her.”
Sydney’s own pain appeared at that mention, and she took a drink of her own wine in response. A voice in the back of my mind whispered painkiller of choice tonight.
I reached for her hand, clutching it. I needed to feel her, for the things I would say next. Hopefully she would anchor me, and keep the horrifying memories from carrying me away.
“I managed to go through with it. I’m not sure how, I don’t want to analyze it, but I did. And it marked me. I felt even angrier with her for forcing me into that situation. And then, when they took me…” I began to tremble now. Syd set her glass down, and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, keeping me more firmly in the here and now than her hand alone could. I felt the strength flowing from her and continued.
“It pushed me over the edge. In the beginning, I was able to resist them a little, even put on a little show of bravado, but in the end,” I barely noticed the wetness trailing its way down my cheeks. “They broke me. They never knew it, but they broke me.”
The words I uttered ripped me open and let all the damaged emotions out. I began to sob, and Syd gathered me into her arms to soothe me. At any other time, I would be immensely grateful to any divine power that Sydney Bristow had me wrapped in her embrace again, but now I only felt the gratitude for being held in the arms of safety, understanding, and love.
After minutes enfolded in her embrace, I calmed, and she released me. She rose and disappeared from my lowered sight for a moment. She returned with a box of tissues, which I thankfully used.
Face dried, nose blown, wine glasses finished and refreshed, and I gave her a look that told her I wasn’t quite done. I ignored the numbness growing in my mind, and went straight for the still-present pain.
“I went insane Syd. Certifiably insane. Instead of letting me work, Dixon should’ve put me in a straight jacket.” She shook her head at me in disagreement, but didn’t say anything.
“Yes, Syd. You know what I did, you were there. I became obsessive. I tortured a man.” I reached up, grasped the side of her face, and stroked her cheek with a thumb. “I put you in danger. Your father gave me the means to 'achieve closure,' as he put it.” I gave a quick sardonic snort. Sydney looked curious at the mention of her father’s involvement, but didn’t voice it.
“I probably would’ve killed her, given the chance before, but I wasn’t actively thinking about it.” I snorted again, this time in irony. “I wasn’t actively thinking about much.” I took a drink of my wine.
“But after Kyoto, actually seeing her for the first time since,” I nodded at Syd, holding more tears back. “You know, it escalated my insanity to a point where all I could think about was killing her. When the Rotunda was wrecked, and Sark was captured, I knew that I needed to find out where she was, and put an end to her evil. And I wanted to do it in a very painful way.”
Staring into Syd’s eyes, I could see the muted horror there, though I knew it as horror for what might have been. I wondered if she could see the shame lurking in my gaze as I thought about the darkness that had possessed me.
A deep breath, and more wine allowed me to forge ahead with this painful confession.
“I had her Syd. I had her, and was planning on doing the worst to her. She pleaded with me, told me more lies, anything to stop me. The she said your name.” I breathed in again.
“I have very few things to be thankful to Lauren Reed for. One of them is that, despite her intentions, she did save me from myself. If it wasn’t for her, it would be likely that when you returned, I would’ve been dead.” The horror in Syd’s eyes grew a little. A small bit of gratification fluttered inside me. Though I felt immense guilt and remorse for what happened between us, what happened to her, I also possessed the need to feel vindicated for what I went through as well.
“Another, and probably the only other, is that she reminded me of you. Throughout that entire thing, I barely gave a thought to you. Even when you spoke to me about what was happening, only a small part of me listened, and that part was consumed by the insanity. But she said your name, and though I would've rather heard the worst obscenities out of her filthy, lying mouth than your name, it served the purpose of reminding me of you, of what you said, of you telling me that you didn’t want to lose me again either.”
The tears gathered in my eyes again, but they did not fall. Still, she offered me another hug. I felt lightheaded when she squeezed me, but knew that the wine worked more effects upon me than she did.
Though that changed slightly when she whispered into my ear.
“Vaughn, it’s alright.” I nodded into her shoulder.
“It is now.” A few more moments, and I whispered to her.
"I said I came for you, and I did. Thinking about you cleared my mind, allowed me to focus on what I was really supposed to be doing - taking care of you." She squeezed me tighter. "That's all I was doing Syd, taking care of you. I didn't see her as the wife that betrayed me, the murderous traitor. I only saw her as a threat to you, and I did what I had to do."
"Thank you," was all she replied, but I knew, from the way she held me, from the way her breath breezed in my ear, that she meant so much more than gratitude for saving her life. She was thanking me for coming back, both to her and myself. For not surrendering to the darkness that came to claim me. For not giving up, this time. For keeping the faith. This time.
The numbness closed over my mind, washing out the pain. However, it didn't come solely from the alcohol. The arms wrapped around me, the chin resting on my shoulder, the breathing in my ear, all acted as an anesthetic salve to my torn soul.
After a few moments, Sydney arose again. This time she took the wine bottle (now empty) with her, and headed to the kitchen. As I watched her retrieve, and open, a new bottle, I wiped the remnants of my tears away from my face.
When she came back, and sat the bottle down, she didn't sit down close to me. She reverted to sitting arm's length away from me. This hurt, but studying her posture and countenance, I realized that she was preparing herself to be hurt. She grabbed her glass, and held it close, at the ready.
"Vaughn, why?" I immediately knew what she was asking, of course. She wanted to know why I married Lauren, why Lauren had been able to save me. I reached for my own wineglass.
"Syd, I'm sure it was all part of the plan, but she came to me when I was at my lowest. She came to me at a time I didn't want to see anything familiar. She made herself likeable when I didn't want to like anybody." I felt surprised that the memories didn't try to bubble up at this point. Maybe the alcohol was keeping them away, like once upon a time, it kept away the memories of Sydney.
"She made it seem so natural to form a friendship. And to move to a relationship from there. And then, suddenly, marriage became a topic. And we both jumped on it." Shame burned in me again, and I downed my wine, not caring that I was already sloshed. My speech began to slur, and I didn't know if it was the wine, or my emotions.
"She made me forget you, Syd. That's all it was about. She made me forget you, and I loved her for it. I gave her my life so I could cut you out of it."
I gazed up at Syd, not even realizing I'd glanced down. I expected her to look sad, to cry, but she didn't. She looked completely understanding. A part of my mind that could still think soberly told me that's what she[/i] had to do, cut me out of her life. She probably did it when she was Julia Thorne, and she was in the process of doing it again when all hell broke loose.
The warm fuzzy feeling this, or the alcohol gave me, birthed a peculiar thought.
Had I not been so disgustingly drunk, the thought probably wouldn't have crossed my mind, much less my lips. "I wish I was married to you." I slurred carelessly.
The understanding in Syd's face quickly morphed into incredible shock, and no small amount of terror. I began to take back what I said, qualify it, or something. She quickly schooled her features and reached over to me, raising her hand to my face in an unmistakable gesture to be silent.
"No, it's alright. I want to speak to this." She brought her hand back to her glass and lowered her eyes to it.
"Vaughn, did I ever tell you why Danny was killed?"
I crumpled my brow, making myself look as perplexed as I felt. "Yes, because you told him about SD-6."
She shook her head, still looking down. "No, I'm sorry. Did I ever tell you why I told him about SD-6?"
I shook my head now. "No."
She sighed heavily. "After Danny proposed to me, we came back to my apartment. He started talking about getting married," she paused to sip her wine. "And about starting a family. I realized at that moment that there was no way I could have a family doing what I do. Putting my life at risk almost every day, not knowing if I'll ever come home, and what it would do to them if I didn't. I often wondered, and still do, about how Dixon did it." She stopped again, and finally brought her eyes up to meet mine.
"And I realized I had to tell Danny about the reality of my life so he would know that there could be no children." She took another drink, draining her glass. Instead of pouring another, she just looked away, keeping her thoughts silent. I wanted to say something to her, but I had no idea what. Another painful memory descended upon me.
We just returned from our honeymoon, and she was going to cook the first dinner in our new home. She asked me what I wanted. For some reason, my first inclination was to ask for pasta, with a homemade marinara. That quickly flew away, and instead I asked "Can you do stir-fry?"
"Of course, anything for you, love." She replied smoothly.
After I came home from the store with the necessary ingredients, I sat the bag on the counter and put my arms around her waist while she washed the dishes (a wedding present from her parents) she unpacked minutes ago.
"We're married now," I whispered gently into her ear. "We can start a family."
She didn't respond right away, just picked up a dishtowel and dried her hands. Then she turned around in my arms, gazing at me with a very serious look on her face.
"Michael, I would love nothing more than to start a family. Even though you don't work for the CIA anymore, I'm still working in that world, and it's keeping me very occupied. You know I can't tell you, but there are some major investigations going on that I have to be a part of, and will probably be a part of for a few years." She saw the disappointment in my face, and her expression softened. "But I promise you love, I won't take on anything new, and when these investigations are concluded, we can start a family."
She then returned my embrace, let me go, and shooed me out of the kitchen.
I didn't voice my doubts, that she was part of the Irina Derevko investigation, and Irina was still a fugitive. Knowing that clever woman, it would forever remain so. With Sydney gone, and Jack disappeared, it was highly unlikely that she would appear in the U.S. again, or even show her face where the intelligence community could spot her.
But optimism and hope lived again in my heart, and I knew that one day, if the investigation dragged on too long, my bride would give it up so that we could have children. I knew she loved me that much.
Syd started speaking again, and it brought me back to the present.
"Yeah, I know that agents still do it. Marshall and Carrie, but they never go on ops anymore. Even," she stumbled over her words. "My parents. But I can't. I just can't. Especially now. I don't even want to think about getting married. I can't promise my life to someone knowing that tomorrow that life may be taken away. Not even to you."
She slid her left hand across the couch to me, and tapped her ring finger, compelling me to look at it. "This finger will not wear another ring until the evil that Sloane and the Covenant has perpetuated is defeated."
She brought that ring-less hand up to touch my face. My gaze returned to her, where she looked at me with a small, sad smile.
"Let me be your friend today. If tomorrow brings the end to either of our lives, we can live today for us."
Then her smile warmed to something, that for a moment, I couldn't identify. But then memories, older memories, opened my eyes and I could see the invitation for what it was.
On an impulse, I reached across that gulf between us, buried my fingers in her hair, and pulled her to me. I brought my lips to hers, and suddenly I felt drunk on more than just red wine.
The kiss was something more than those kisses stolen during the past months, those forbidden little things. This kiss was freed from the bounds of rules, commitments, and deceptions. It was full of a lifetime of need. It was a strange, but balancing reflection of our first kiss, standing amidst destruction. And again, we stood on destruction, but this time it was the wasteland our lives had become.
I knew that in two seconds, Syd would take control. I knew from the signals that her body was giving me, even though it had been so long since I had received those signals. But I wanted to take control, I wanted to show her how I felt with my body. So in one second, I lowered her to the couch, and started pulling at both her clothes and mine.
The memories wouldn't follow me here. They wouldn't dare. This was the place where Sydney's face, Sydney's memories haunted me. I had been forced to remove all other aspects of her from my life, but I could not leave behind the body she had touched.
Sometime during that liberating kiss, and the drunken making-out that followed, we both managed to lose our shoes and our shirts. Before I could remove anything else, Syd broke away, and stood up. I just stared at her, so alluring in just a black bra and her jeans. She held her hand out to me, and I took it. She pulled me up and led me to her bedroom.
And for the first time in a long time, all doubts, fears, regret, sadness, discontent, resentment, anger, and memories left me. There was only passion, love, and Sydney.
***
I awakened slowly. The first sensation I became aware of was an unfamiliar bed. Then an all-too-familiar pounding in my head told me that I spent a foolish night drinking. Why did I do such an idiotic thing? I thought I gave all that up when…
Lauren…
Awareness came rushing back to me with that whisper of bittersweetness. I groaned inwardly and turned over to see a smooth bare back, disappearing into a sheet at one end, and a disarray of long chestnut hair at the other. Something deep inside of me expected to see a mass of blonde instead.
I’d always been attracted to blondes, which left me at somewhat of a loss when I started feeling attraction for Sydney. Physically, she had been completely opposite of my "type."
Lauren was every bit my "type." Perhaps that was the point whispered a voice deep inside my psyche.
Though she wasn't my usual physical ideal, Syd never disappointed me in that respect. Without thinking about sex, I still found her to be magnificent. Even at that moment, staring at her back, watching the rise and fall of her breath, I felt nothing less than fascination.
But the one thing I did truly like more about Lauren was her hair. A plentitude of gold that I could wrap my hands in, and bury my face. When she wore it loose, it would always spread out to frame her face. And it always smelled like lavender, a scent I found soothing due to my mother's tendency to use it. Also purposeful? said that voice again.
Syd's hair was always so straight, so tame. Its only saving graces were that it felt incredibly soft to the touch, and the color wasn't just brown. When viewed in the proper light, it shimmered with highlights of mahogany, auburn, and copper.
Lauren's hair was one solid shade of blonde. She told me that she was naturally blonde, but her shade was so dark and uneven that she preferred to color it to a lighter and more uniform color. More artifice?
That voice started to become annoying. Perhaps then I knew why I got drunk last night.
Syd suddenly began to stretch, and rolled over, her eyes already open and searching for me. "Were you watching me?" she teased, her voice tinged by sleep.
"I haven't seen you like this in almost three years. I'm enjoying the view." I whispered softly, reverently, regretfully. I let my admiration for her fill my eyes.
Sadness quickly filled hers. "It only seems like not quite a year for me."
I reached across the bed to her and pulled her into my arms. "I'm sorry," I murmured into her neck. I got the feeling that she didn't know whether to accept my apology, or to tell me there's no need. She did neither, she just settled into my embrace instead. After a few moments, she spoke softly into my ear.
"I can't blame you just because I don't remember that time. That when I woke up, if felt like only the night before we were deeply in love."
"That didn't change." I gently rebuked her.
"No, Vaughn, it didn't. But we did. I may not remember, but I did things during that time, things I thought I would never do. I wasn't exactly celibate either. And you, you…" She went silent.
Lauren…The name sprang once again to my mind.
She was, of course, right. Neither of us were the same two CIA agents that three years ago, chased the bad guys together, and then at the end of the day, fell into bed together, giddy with new love. We were both older, much more jaded individuals. Yes, the love still dwelled there, but we couldn't rush blindly into it.
I felt Syd snuggle into me more, her body promising the same thing her smile did last night. I had to stop this. We needed to start acting intelligently, instead of reacting to emotion. If we didn't, the possibility existed that we could cause more heartbreak, and have no one but ourselves to blame. I felt the familiar walls closing around my heart, preparing to protect me for the confrontation ahead.
"I need to get up. I don't feel very good." It wasn't at all a lie, but it was still a deflection, and I felt guilty for it. She let go of me and rolled onto her back, disappointment clear in her face. Then replaced by sympathy.
"Yeah, neither do I. Do you think we drank too much last night?" She grimaced as she realized her own hungover state.
I rose from the bed and headed out of the room. I hoped I could remember where the bathroom was.
"Definitely. I think I’m going to be sick." I made it to the bathroom, and fortunately, didn't lose the contents of my stomach. I splashed some cold water on my face, and opened up the medicine cabinet, looking for pain reliever. Finding some generic ibuprofen, I got a couple out and swallowed them dry.
I walked back into the bedroom. Syd still lay in bed, with her arms up and resting on her head, shading her closed eyes from the morning sun.
"Oh, I am so happy we don’t have to go to work." She opened her eyes and peered at me from beneath her arms. Just in time to see me pull on my pants. She sighed, and rolled out of the bed, still nude.
She looked so beautiful, last night had been so incredible, and I asked myself if I was doing the right thing.
Syd retrieved a long robe from her closet, and wrapped herself in it. She then went to the bathroom, and avoided looking at me. I had to be doing the right thing. If I wasn't, well then I just burned all of my bridges, and I would lose her for good. I didn’t know how I could handle that.
I started towards the living room. "Where's your coffee? I'll make us some." I called to the bathroom.
"In the cabinet next to the fridge." Her voice sounded strained, and I wondered if she was trying as hard not to be sick as I did. I didn't go and check on her though. Instead I went to the kitchen, and started the coffee. I found the mugs as well, and pulled a couple out. Just as the coffee finished, she came into the kitchen. She had brushed her hair, and washed her face. I poured her a cup, and gave it to her. She gave me a little smile that I knew meant nothing more than "thank you."
We both reconvened to the living room couch, the place where last night, we had indulged ourselves to our eventual sorrow. And again, just like last night, an awkward silence made itself present. Syd also broke the silence this time.
"Vaughn, was there something wrong with last night?" She looked me squarely in the eye.
"No!" I said immediately, giving in to that instinct men have to protect themselves when women ask them such questions. Then I gazed down and told her the truth. "Yes."
"What?" Syd looked genuinely puzzled. I knew she probably had all sorts of theories, but had no idea which one to go with. I also knew that I needed to give her an explanation. I braced myself mentally, and began.
"Sydney, I have no regrets about anything that happened last night. Between us. But within me, there is plenty to regret. I can't stop thinking about her." I looked up to see what her response would be. She simply nodded. I continued. "Ever since I was released from the hospital, I can barely go an hour without remembering something about her. The good things that happened between us! It's awful, it's horrible. She's the very last thing I want to think about, but it's all too easy to do." I had to stop. A lump actually began to form in my throat.
Syd put her coffee down, and laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "I understand. When Irina… my mother escaped, I felt so betrayed. Even though I was so angry at her, I couldn't help but remember the good things that had happened between us while she was here. She had reestablished herself as my mother, and no matter what happened, I couldn't help but think of her that way." She paused, unsure of how to continue. But I was able to speak again.
"I married her Syd. I thought I loved her, and I married her. I took vows. 'Until death do us part.' And that isn't exactly what happened. But she did give me some good memories, and I can't just forget."
Forgetting about the coffee, I sunk my head into hands, and tried very hard not to give in to the despair that followed my words. I felt Syd put her arms around me, and rest her head on mine. We stayed that way for a few minutes, and I took comfort from the silent embrace.
Then I shook myself inside, and extracted myself. I needed to make this cut, now, before I went too far.
"Sydney," and the tone of my voice immediately commanded her attention. "As much as I would like to continue what happened here last night, to rebuild what we had before, I can't. Not right now." Her eyes looked at me expectantly, waiting for the reason. Of course I would give her one, she deserved it.
"I need some time alone. To sort out all my personal affairs that have been disrupted. To sort out myself. You don't need me the way I am now, Syd. I'm still too tainted by what happened. I need to get her out of me."
Tears glistened in Sydney's eyes, and I knew they lurked in mine as well. But I couldn't take this back. I couldn't sweep it under the rug, say "screw it" and carry her back into the bedroom. I owed it to her to come back to her whole. And I needed to be away from her to do that. Otherwise, I'd just use her as a crutch.
She nodded, even though I could tell that she didn't entirely agree. But then her eyes looked over my shoulder, at that cluttered table, and I knew she was thinking of whatever occupied her time while I was in the hospital. She glanced back at me.
"Vaughn, you're right. There's some things I need to do as well."
And that was it.
We silently finished our coffee, we dressed, and Sydney showed me to her door. But before she closed it behind me, she gave me one of her pleading looks, the kind that always had me wrapped around her finger.
"We will do this, won’t we?" I smiled at her.
"Of course, Syd. And then we’ll live each day for itself. For us."
***
It’s been about a month since that day. I haven’t heard anything from Sydney, nor have I tried to contact her.
Instead, I’ve been spending my time taking inventory. Finding out what the CIA agents took out of my house, and what they left. Boxing up what I didn’t want, and giving it to charity. Packing what I did, and finding a new apartment. Selling the house.
Going through the stuff triggered many, many memories. The places Lauren and I went together, and some of the crazy little knick-knacks we brought back. The art we both liked and adorned the walls with. All the household items we picked out together, some of them we bought, some of them given to us as wedding gifts.
After that, I took full advantage of my leave, and traveled. This time, not to escape, but to find. I visited my mother and had a very long, heart wrenching conversation with her. I went to each of places I treasured with Lauren, discarded the memory, and said goodbye. And I also went to each of the places I defiled Sydney’s memory with my drunkenness, and apologized.
Many times, I was overcome. Sometimes, it was by my emotions; intense feelings of guilt, anger, grief, regret, self-loathing. Other times, it was by those tarnished memories. But each time my mind wandered down those familiar pathways of pain, I remembered Sydney, and the promise we made to each other.
I still have those moments. Those familiar little moments that almost make me want to crawl back into that same bottle I crawled into when Sydney disappeared. But I fight those moments, using her memory as my weapon. And I win against the darkness that threatens to take me again.
It happens every day.
~*~
Title: The Familiar
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: PG-13
When: Post S3/Resurrection (but before Wittenburg)
Summary: Vaughn's memories haunt him, though he wants to move on
Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were, things would be very different, and I would be a happy camper
~*~
It happens every day. People refuse to leave that which they know. An old couple who has lived in their home for decades won't move, even though their neighborhood is being taken over by crime and drug dealers. A disgruntled employee won't leave the job he despises, and venture into the job market. A battered woman won't leave her abusive partner.
Some say the evil that is known is better than the good that is unknown. I don't know about that.
Others say we become so accustomed to ways of thinking, ways of acting, ways of being, that it's difficult to change. That sounds a little more like it.
All I know is that my mind keeps returning to her. I know it shouldn't. After all that's happened, and all that I now know, it shouldn't. But I felt love for her, even though she may have manipulated me to. I gave my life to her, something I haven't done for anyone else. Yes, I regret it now. I keep asking myself what it was that made me fall prey to her. Was I just that blinded by grief and the need to have someone, something to hold onto? And with all the evil she committed, with the sad fact that my life for the past two and a half years was just an illusion, the memories remain as real to me as they were before I discovered the truth. I still think of them.
It happens every day.
***
They released me from the hospital with the admonition “No more heroics.” Once again, extraordinary circumstances prevented federal charges from being brought up on me, and the orderly loaded me into a waiting cab instead of a CIA sedan.
I absentmindedly gave the driver my address, and stared out the window throughout the ride, though I wasn’t really seeing anything. I had turned my mind inward, so I could excise the cobwebs there. After Sydney returned me to the hospital, they kept me constantly doped up on painkillers and sedatives. I felt fortunate that I remembered my name, much less my address.
The past few weeks had blurred by so quickly, that only now I had the peace to process recent events. The time, also. Dixon gave me a combined medical and administrative leave, for an indefinite period of time. He told me he wasn’t sure what would take longer, my healing, or the higher-ups deciding what in hell to do with me. I wasn’t sure if I should feel amused or scared.
The driver jolted me out of my thoughts with a gruff “we’re here.” I fished my wallet out of my pocket and paid him the fare, with a generous tip. He grinned widely at me as I got out.
I had nothing with me except the clothes on my back, and the usual things a man carries in his pockets. Weiss was nice enough to bring me a change of clothing, and get rid of my bloodstained shirt. He’d also offered me a ride home today, along with several other people, but I refused them all. I wanted to make this journey alone.
I stood there, in front of my house, daring myself to go in.
I anxiously stood outside the house, wanting to go in and double-check everything, but also wanting to be outside when she pulled up. The real estate agent watched me fidget with amusement, and I got the feeling she sells many houses to men like me.
Since the summer started, and school ended, my suddenly open schedule allowed me to shop around for houses, but she was too busy to go with me.
“I trust your judgment,” was all she would say, with one of her mysterious smiles.
By mid-August, I’d found a half-dozen good houses, but only one of them I truly wanted. It was located in a beautiful neighborhood, near good shopping, and good schools. It had four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a family room, formal dining room, breakfast nook, garage, and a large backyard. Perfect for a family about to start.
Her car pulled up to the curb, and I hurried to open the door for her. She smiled at my enthusiasm.
“This is the first one, Michael?” I nodded, and secretly hoped it’d be the last.
The real estate agent escorted us up the sculpted walkway, and opened the door for us. As my bride-to-be entered the house, looking around in wonder, the agent remained silent, as I requested of her. I wanted the house to sell itself.
I urged my fiancée to explore by herself, while the agent and I remained in the foyer. After ten nervous minutes, she returned, a large smile lighting her face.
“Michael, I love it!” I smiled back and took her into my arms.
“Do you want to see the others?”
“Only if you want to show them to me.” I turned to the real estate agent.
“We’ll take it.”
I blinked my eyes, trying to clear the images from my mind. I looked again at my house, my home for the last two years, with disgust. I couldn’t allow myself to call this place my “home” anymore. The old cliché says home is where the heart is. Well, my heart certainly wasn't here.
I reached into my pocket for my keys. I felt thankful that Weiss parked my car in the driveway, and not the garage. I couldn’t go in right now. I knew at some point, I would have to, if only to move out, but I couldn’t now. My wounds felt too fresh.
I unlocked the driver’s door with one touch of the remote, opened it, and sat in the seat. I quickly started the engine, put it in gear, and backed out as fast as I could without squealing the tires. God only knew what the neighbors already thought, considering the CIA had agents searching the house while I was hospitalized.
In the hospital, Weiss asked me if I wanted them to stop. I didn’t care. If they wanted to carry away every last item she owned, I welcomed them to it. I only asked him to keep them from taking anything I had before I met her.
Thinking of Weiss, I made a quick decision to head over to his place. He’d be happy to know that I rejoined the living, breathing, non-hospitalized human race. Plus he wouldn’t pester me about “resting,” “not driving,” and "not drinking." As well as all those other things recent surgery patients aren’t supposed to do.
I drove into the familiar neighborhood, and as I turned down Weiss' street, I wondered if he could take another night of "Beers-and-Sorrows". I usually brought both, of course. However, now I only had one of those, and unfortunately, it wasn't the beers.
Before I could turn around to find a mini-mart, I spotted a driveway with a familiar car parked in it, and it startled a recollection out of me. Sydney lived only a few houses down from Weiss. Before I could think too hard about it, I felt compelled to stop there.
I parked right in front, my passenger door in line with her front door. I turned off the car, but still sat there for a few minutes, unsure if I should get out. Though we shared a kiss in Palermo, I still didn’t know how Sydney felt, if she forgave me. I wanted to talk to her so much on the way home, but she forbade me to exert myself in any fashion, including emotionally. Plus, it seemed that other thoughts consumed her attention.
Sydney never came to see me in the hospital, nor did she call me. In one of my few lucid moments, I asked Weiss about her, but he had nothing to say except she hadn’t left her house once after dropping me off at the hospital. This hurt, and I didn’t want to disturb her if she didn’t want to see me. I didn’t want to take the chance of driving her further away.
I was parked in front of the hotel, waiting in the car I rented for the evening. I felt very nervous, palms sweaty, butterflies in the stomach, the whole bit. But it wasn't for the usual reasons. Though this was our first formal date, I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go through with this. Did I want to start this painful dance all over again?
Just a few dates, I told myself. Just a few for the distraction. And she can be distracting.
She stepped out of the hotel door then, looking quite stunning in a short black dress. She saw me immediately, came to the car, and got in. She smiled radiantly at me. For some reason, it put me completely at ease. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
"So Michael, where are you taking me?"
It was the beginning of a wonderful evening.
Another memory came unbidden to my mind, taking me by complete surprise. It was not something I wanted to think about. She was not something I wanted to think about, not now, not ever. However, the memory, as painful as it was, did have the purpose of making my mind up for me. I got out of the car.
Even if Sydney didn’t need to see me, I needed to see her. And if she only allowed me a few minutes, I could live with that.
I noticed a strange motion in one of the front windows, and suddenly knew that I had been watched. Small surprise, considering what we do. The next moment Sydney came out the front door, walking towards me, smiling. I walked towards her, my relief creating its own smile. We met in the middle of the walkway, where we stood, arm's length apart.
"Vaughn, what are you doing here?" My smile turned kind of shy, and I lowered my head, then raised it back up to look at her.
"Well, I was just driving around, and then I felt like talking to somebody, and Weiss is probably sick of me whining at him so…" I paused, unsure of how to continue, unsure if I should tell her the entire reason. Syd saved me the trouble.
"It's okay. Come on in." I followed her inside, and she invited me to sit down while she went into the kitchen. "I'm going to have dinner in a little bit. Do you want some?" I turned around and faced her.
"Sure, what are you making?" Then I noticed there was nothing going on in the kitchen except Syd getting down plates, and I noticed that she looked strangely embarrassed. I wondered if I said something wrong.
"Actually, I don't really cook much anymore. I just…..don't." She looked down for a moment, and then smiled and continued. "Nah, my dad turned me on to this little Chinese place just a couple of streets away, and fortunately, they deliver."
She sat the plates down on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. "You want something to drink?" I nodded. "What do you want?"
"I'll just have whatever you're having." I remembered that Syd and I liked a lot of the same things where food and drink were concerned, so whatever she had would be good. I heard the sound of glass, and pouring. She came back into the living room and set down on the coffee table two glasses of her favorite red wine. Of course, that would be something she would have.
I looked at the glass in front of me with slight unease, wondering if alcohol was a good idea, in spite of my earlier intentions of drinking beer with Weiss. Syd caught my discomfort, and became immediately alarmed.
"Oh, Vaughn, I'm so sorry, do you want me to…" I interrupted her before she could take it away.
"No, no. It's okay. I just don't know if I should, considering," I hesitated, not ready to talk about my feelings yet. I usually felt confidence regarding alcohol and my emotional state. But I also knew that if anything would make me lose control, it would be Sydney. I hoped she took my vacillation as concern for my physical health, but she knew me too well.
Syd put her hand on my arm. "It's okay. I'll be here for you."
I rented an apartment in Paris that week. I’d been staying in small villages, but the peace and quiet was driving me insane. I hoped that here I would be able to lose myself in the crowds of bustling people.
Instead, I just found a local bar to get blitzed out of my mind in.
I was walking there for my nightly numbing when I heard someone say my name.
"Agent Vaughn?" I turned around to see a familiar blonde woman standing a few feet from me, looking at me questioningly. I tried to remember where I'd met her. That's right, at the debriefing, right after…no, can't think of that. But what's her name? Oh that's right, her name was…
"Agent Reed, right?" She smiled prettily, and walked over, holding out her hand.
"That's right. You can call me Lauren." I took her hand and shook it briefly. Her grip was somehow firm and delicate at the same time.
"Um, I guess you can call me Michael then. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, just here on some business, but it's been concluded, so now I'm taking a few free days. You?"
"I was, uh, taking some free time myself." She nodded her head, sympathy making an appearance on her face. A look of apology quickly replaced it.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You must've been going somewhere and I interrupted you." She placed her hand over her mouth in mild embarrassment.
"Um, no, I was just, uh, going for a walk." I suddenly felt ashamed of myself, and hung my head, my eyes searching the ground for a scrap of dignity. She gently took my hand, and I looked back up into her face. Sympathy took its place in her features again, accompanied by kindliness.
"I'm going to say something rather forward, and if I offend you, please let me know." She stared into my eyes, searching for an objection, I guessed. When she found none, and I didn't offer any, she continued. "I realize you've been through a lot lately, Michael. And though we're practically strangers, I want you to know that as long as I'm in town, I'll be here for you." I smiled sadly at her little spontaneous speech, and squeezed her hand.
"Thank you, Lauren. And no, it's not offensive at all." Actually, it was nice for once to have someone express sympathy that wasn't experiencing grief as well. Lauren brightened at my acceptance of her words, and started to tug me in the opposite direction from where I was going.
"I know this sweet little café just around the corner here. You're going to accompany me for coffee." How could I refuse? She had a hold on me, and was offering me something that I had too little of lately: comfort.
I lowered my head under the weight of yet another memory. I fought it off, glanced up at Syd and smiled.
"I know, you always are." Before she could reply, the doorbell rang.
Syd opened the door, and sure enough, the delivery guy stood there. He seemed young and unsure. I was betting this was his first job, and he hadn't been doing it long. Syd paid him, and he smiled a large, awkward, adolescent smile. She must've tipped him well. But then again, receiving anything from Syd would make most males smile.
She brought the food to the bar, and I joined her there, helping to set out the containers. We served ourselves from the little white boxes, and sat down at the bar to eat. We didn't really say much, just talking about the food, and I filled her in on my hospital stay. I felt as if the delivery guy left some of his awkwardness with the food, and watching Syd, it seemed as if she felt the same. After we finished, I offered to clean up. Syd smiled gratefully at me.
"It's been awhile since I've had someone around to help." I just nodded and got to work. Meanwhile, Syd refreshed our wineglasses, and took them back to the coffee table. I put the food in the fridge, and turned around to notice her standing in the middle of the living room, appearing as if she felt uncertain about something. I didn't have the time to guess why, because she noticed me noticing her, and motioned me over.
I returned to the living room, where we both sat on the couch, arm's length apart again. The awkwardness made itself manifest in here as well, leaving us unsure of speech. Syd overcame it first, and broke the silence.
"So, how are you doing?" She said it softly, hesitantly. I shrugged, then sighed.
"Okay, I guess. Well, not really." I took a drink, and gauged how much I wanted to open up to her. "It's been……difficult." She nodded, and reached over to touch my arm. The sensation of her gentle fingertips on my skin caused me to shudder inside. It wasn't like she hadn't touched me in comfort recently, it was just that for some reason (that I could probably fathom if I tried), I felt more open, more raw, more exposed.
"Vaughn," she started, before I spied a memory of her own chasing itself across her face. She smiled a little. "Michael…." I stopped her again.
"No, this time, 'Vaughn' is fine." I smiled back at her, but I knew my smile possessed no small amount of bitterness and irony in it. She smiled bigger, and nodded.
“Vaughn, I’m sorry.” I felt slightly confused. While I realized a world of things existed to be sorry for, I didn’t think a single one of them belonged to Sydney.
“For what?” Guilt clouded her features. Surely, she couldn’t feel bad for everything that’d happened?
“For not visiting you in the hospital.” Great, I assumed she was apologizing for the big things, when in reality she only expressed remorse for something small. The medication must’ve still been fogging my mind.
“It’s okay. I was drugged the whole time anyway. I probably wouldn't have recognized you.” She smiled with a small amount of humor.
“Yeah. It’s just, I was busy.” I suddenly noticed the compact dining table sitting a dozen feet behind the couch, next to the patio door. Piles of paper cluttered it, half obscuring her laptop.
I looked at her with a question in my eyes, but hers already held a ready answer of “please don’t ask.” I decided to let it go. We were so far away from the point where we could share everything. A small, melancholy part of me wondered if we’d ever be there again. I reached out and rubbed her arm.
“Well, we’re here now.” She nodded.
“Yeah.”
Another awkward silence hung between us, pregnant with things unsaid. I became frustrated with myself, wondering if I was about to make my coming here pointless. So much time had been wasted already, and here I sat, throwing away even more.
I had already wasted too much of my life. Spent too much time chasing ideals, too much time chasing dreams, too much time chasing things that ended up as ashes in my hands when I caught them.
Not anymore. I felt tired of hurting, tired of longing. I had in front of me a beautiful, charming, intelligent woman that would do anything for me. Before something happened to take her away from me, I needed to bind her to me, bind her to this life I wished to live.
So I knelt in front of that woman, pulling the small velvet box out of my pocket. Her eyes shone at me, clearly expectant. I didn’t even have to say anything, just lifted the lid, and revealed the gleaming diamond inside. She lunged at me, joining me on the restaurant floor, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Yes Michael! Oh yes!”
We held each other for long moments, and then regained out seats. The waiter brought us out a bottle of champagne we didn’t order.
“On the house,” he stated, with a knowing smile.
We toasted each other, and took a few silent sips. After finishing her glass, she grabbed my hand.
“Michael, with my parents’ resources, we can be married in three months.” She paused, somewhat hesitant. “If that’s not too fast for you.” I looked up at her and smiled into her still-shining eyes.
“No. It’s not at all too fast for me.” After all, the quicker this happened, the better. We would be married, then we would pull out of this tedious, dangerous life. It would be the “happily ever after” I’d dreamed about. I felt a small burst of sadness that my original dream wouldn’t come true.
But does life ever work out the way you plan it?
I swallowed down the rest of my wine, along with the memory. However, this one also spurred me to action. I had a chance to make things right, and I wouldn’t squander it.
I rose from the couch, and walked to the kitchen. I found the bottle of wine Syd opened, and refreshed my glass. Not quite ready to return to the living room, I stood in the kitchen, staring into my wine while swirling it.
“I didn’t mean to kill her.” The words popped out of my mouth without any prior thought. I’d given my speaking capabilities over to my heart. I turned around to glance at Syd. I could tell that she knew what I was talking about, but she needed to hear me say it. When it came to things this important, she always needed to hear me say it.
“Lauren. I didn’t mean to kill her.” Having pushed the unpleasant topic into the forefront, I felt enough steadiness to sit with Syd again. I grabbed the wine bottle, and rejoined her on the couch, sitting closer to her. She didn’t reply to my statement, which I liked. I needed to get these things out, uninterrupted, and I appreciated the fact she understood that.
“When I found out about her, I felt enraged. But not murderous. I wanted to see her rotting in prison.” I gulped, and took another drink of wine to banish the phantom lump in my throat. “But I wasn’t ready for what happened in Richmond. I was naïve to think I could conduct a raven mission without sleeping with her.”
Sydney’s own pain appeared at that mention, and she took a drink of her own wine in response. A voice in the back of my mind whispered painkiller of choice tonight.
I reached for her hand, clutching it. I needed to feel her, for the things I would say next. Hopefully she would anchor me, and keep the horrifying memories from carrying me away.
“I managed to go through with it. I’m not sure how, I don’t want to analyze it, but I did. And it marked me. I felt even angrier with her for forcing me into that situation. And then, when they took me…” I began to tremble now. Syd set her glass down, and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, keeping me more firmly in the here and now than her hand alone could. I felt the strength flowing from her and continued.
“It pushed me over the edge. In the beginning, I was able to resist them a little, even put on a little show of bravado, but in the end,” I barely noticed the wetness trailing its way down my cheeks. “They broke me. They never knew it, but they broke me.”
The words I uttered ripped me open and let all the damaged emotions out. I began to sob, and Syd gathered me into her arms to soothe me. At any other time, I would be immensely grateful to any divine power that Sydney Bristow had me wrapped in her embrace again, but now I only felt the gratitude for being held in the arms of safety, understanding, and love.
After minutes enfolded in her embrace, I calmed, and she released me. She rose and disappeared from my lowered sight for a moment. She returned with a box of tissues, which I thankfully used.
Face dried, nose blown, wine glasses finished and refreshed, and I gave her a look that told her I wasn’t quite done. I ignored the numbness growing in my mind, and went straight for the still-present pain.
“I went insane Syd. Certifiably insane. Instead of letting me work, Dixon should’ve put me in a straight jacket.” She shook her head at me in disagreement, but didn’t say anything.
“Yes, Syd. You know what I did, you were there. I became obsessive. I tortured a man.” I reached up, grasped the side of her face, and stroked her cheek with a thumb. “I put you in danger. Your father gave me the means to 'achieve closure,' as he put it.” I gave a quick sardonic snort. Sydney looked curious at the mention of her father’s involvement, but didn’t voice it.
“I probably would’ve killed her, given the chance before, but I wasn’t actively thinking about it.” I snorted again, this time in irony. “I wasn’t actively thinking about much.” I took a drink of my wine.
“But after Kyoto, actually seeing her for the first time since,” I nodded at Syd, holding more tears back. “You know, it escalated my insanity to a point where all I could think about was killing her. When the Rotunda was wrecked, and Sark was captured, I knew that I needed to find out where she was, and put an end to her evil. And I wanted to do it in a very painful way.”
Staring into Syd’s eyes, I could see the muted horror there, though I knew it as horror for what might have been. I wondered if she could see the shame lurking in my gaze as I thought about the darkness that had possessed me.
A deep breath, and more wine allowed me to forge ahead with this painful confession.
“I had her Syd. I had her, and was planning on doing the worst to her. She pleaded with me, told me more lies, anything to stop me. The she said your name.” I breathed in again.
“I have very few things to be thankful to Lauren Reed for. One of them is that, despite her intentions, she did save me from myself. If it wasn’t for her, it would be likely that when you returned, I would’ve been dead.” The horror in Syd’s eyes grew a little. A small bit of gratification fluttered inside me. Though I felt immense guilt and remorse for what happened between us, what happened to her, I also possessed the need to feel vindicated for what I went through as well.
“Another, and probably the only other, is that she reminded me of you. Throughout that entire thing, I barely gave a thought to you. Even when you spoke to me about what was happening, only a small part of me listened, and that part was consumed by the insanity. But she said your name, and though I would've rather heard the worst obscenities out of her filthy, lying mouth than your name, it served the purpose of reminding me of you, of what you said, of you telling me that you didn’t want to lose me again either.”
The tears gathered in my eyes again, but they did not fall. Still, she offered me another hug. I felt lightheaded when she squeezed me, but knew that the wine worked more effects upon me than she did.
Though that changed slightly when she whispered into my ear.
“Vaughn, it’s alright.” I nodded into her shoulder.
“It is now.” A few more moments, and I whispered to her.
"I said I came for you, and I did. Thinking about you cleared my mind, allowed me to focus on what I was really supposed to be doing - taking care of you." She squeezed me tighter. "That's all I was doing Syd, taking care of you. I didn't see her as the wife that betrayed me, the murderous traitor. I only saw her as a threat to you, and I did what I had to do."
"Thank you," was all she replied, but I knew, from the way she held me, from the way her breath breezed in my ear, that she meant so much more than gratitude for saving her life. She was thanking me for coming back, both to her and myself. For not surrendering to the darkness that came to claim me. For not giving up, this time. For keeping the faith. This time.
The numbness closed over my mind, washing out the pain. However, it didn't come solely from the alcohol. The arms wrapped around me, the chin resting on my shoulder, the breathing in my ear, all acted as an anesthetic salve to my torn soul.
After a few moments, Sydney arose again. This time she took the wine bottle (now empty) with her, and headed to the kitchen. As I watched her retrieve, and open, a new bottle, I wiped the remnants of my tears away from my face.
When she came back, and sat the bottle down, she didn't sit down close to me. She reverted to sitting arm's length away from me. This hurt, but studying her posture and countenance, I realized that she was preparing herself to be hurt. She grabbed her glass, and held it close, at the ready.
"Vaughn, why?" I immediately knew what she was asking, of course. She wanted to know why I married Lauren, why Lauren had been able to save me. I reached for my own wineglass.
"Syd, I'm sure it was all part of the plan, but she came to me when I was at my lowest. She came to me at a time I didn't want to see anything familiar. She made herself likeable when I didn't want to like anybody." I felt surprised that the memories didn't try to bubble up at this point. Maybe the alcohol was keeping them away, like once upon a time, it kept away the memories of Sydney.
"She made it seem so natural to form a friendship. And to move to a relationship from there. And then, suddenly, marriage became a topic. And we both jumped on it." Shame burned in me again, and I downed my wine, not caring that I was already sloshed. My speech began to slur, and I didn't know if it was the wine, or my emotions.
"She made me forget you, Syd. That's all it was about. She made me forget you, and I loved her for it. I gave her my life so I could cut you out of it."
I gazed up at Syd, not even realizing I'd glanced down. I expected her to look sad, to cry, but she didn't. She looked completely understanding. A part of my mind that could still think soberly told me that's what she[/i] had to do, cut me out of her life. She probably did it when she was Julia Thorne, and she was in the process of doing it again when all hell broke loose.
The warm fuzzy feeling this, or the alcohol gave me, birthed a peculiar thought.
Had I not been so disgustingly drunk, the thought probably wouldn't have crossed my mind, much less my lips. "I wish I was married to you." I slurred carelessly.
The understanding in Syd's face quickly morphed into incredible shock, and no small amount of terror. I began to take back what I said, qualify it, or something. She quickly schooled her features and reached over to me, raising her hand to my face in an unmistakable gesture to be silent.
"No, it's alright. I want to speak to this." She brought her hand back to her glass and lowered her eyes to it.
"Vaughn, did I ever tell you why Danny was killed?"
I crumpled my brow, making myself look as perplexed as I felt. "Yes, because you told him about SD-6."
She shook her head, still looking down. "No, I'm sorry. Did I ever tell you why I told him about SD-6?"
I shook my head now. "No."
She sighed heavily. "After Danny proposed to me, we came back to my apartment. He started talking about getting married," she paused to sip her wine. "And about starting a family. I realized at that moment that there was no way I could have a family doing what I do. Putting my life at risk almost every day, not knowing if I'll ever come home, and what it would do to them if I didn't. I often wondered, and still do, about how Dixon did it." She stopped again, and finally brought her eyes up to meet mine.
"And I realized I had to tell Danny about the reality of my life so he would know that there could be no children." She took another drink, draining her glass. Instead of pouring another, she just looked away, keeping her thoughts silent. I wanted to say something to her, but I had no idea what. Another painful memory descended upon me.
We just returned from our honeymoon, and she was going to cook the first dinner in our new home. She asked me what I wanted. For some reason, my first inclination was to ask for pasta, with a homemade marinara. That quickly flew away, and instead I asked "Can you do stir-fry?"
"Of course, anything for you, love." She replied smoothly.
After I came home from the store with the necessary ingredients, I sat the bag on the counter and put my arms around her waist while she washed the dishes (a wedding present from her parents) she unpacked minutes ago.
"We're married now," I whispered gently into her ear. "We can start a family."
She didn't respond right away, just picked up a dishtowel and dried her hands. Then she turned around in my arms, gazing at me with a very serious look on her face.
"Michael, I would love nothing more than to start a family. Even though you don't work for the CIA anymore, I'm still working in that world, and it's keeping me very occupied. You know I can't tell you, but there are some major investigations going on that I have to be a part of, and will probably be a part of for a few years." She saw the disappointment in my face, and her expression softened. "But I promise you love, I won't take on anything new, and when these investigations are concluded, we can start a family."
She then returned my embrace, let me go, and shooed me out of the kitchen.
I didn't voice my doubts, that she was part of the Irina Derevko investigation, and Irina was still a fugitive. Knowing that clever woman, it would forever remain so. With Sydney gone, and Jack disappeared, it was highly unlikely that she would appear in the U.S. again, or even show her face where the intelligence community could spot her.
But optimism and hope lived again in my heart, and I knew that one day, if the investigation dragged on too long, my bride would give it up so that we could have children. I knew she loved me that much.
Syd started speaking again, and it brought me back to the present.
"Yeah, I know that agents still do it. Marshall and Carrie, but they never go on ops anymore. Even," she stumbled over her words. "My parents. But I can't. I just can't. Especially now. I don't even want to think about getting married. I can't promise my life to someone knowing that tomorrow that life may be taken away. Not even to you."
She slid her left hand across the couch to me, and tapped her ring finger, compelling me to look at it. "This finger will not wear another ring until the evil that Sloane and the Covenant has perpetuated is defeated."
She brought that ring-less hand up to touch my face. My gaze returned to her, where she looked at me with a small, sad smile.
"Let me be your friend today. If tomorrow brings the end to either of our lives, we can live today for us."
Then her smile warmed to something, that for a moment, I couldn't identify. But then memories, older memories, opened my eyes and I could see the invitation for what it was.
On an impulse, I reached across that gulf between us, buried my fingers in her hair, and pulled her to me. I brought my lips to hers, and suddenly I felt drunk on more than just red wine.
The kiss was something more than those kisses stolen during the past months, those forbidden little things. This kiss was freed from the bounds of rules, commitments, and deceptions. It was full of a lifetime of need. It was a strange, but balancing reflection of our first kiss, standing amidst destruction. And again, we stood on destruction, but this time it was the wasteland our lives had become.
I knew that in two seconds, Syd would take control. I knew from the signals that her body was giving me, even though it had been so long since I had received those signals. But I wanted to take control, I wanted to show her how I felt with my body. So in one second, I lowered her to the couch, and started pulling at both her clothes and mine.
The memories wouldn't follow me here. They wouldn't dare. This was the place where Sydney's face, Sydney's memories haunted me. I had been forced to remove all other aspects of her from my life, but I could not leave behind the body she had touched.
Sometime during that liberating kiss, and the drunken making-out that followed, we both managed to lose our shoes and our shirts. Before I could remove anything else, Syd broke away, and stood up. I just stared at her, so alluring in just a black bra and her jeans. She held her hand out to me, and I took it. She pulled me up and led me to her bedroom.
And for the first time in a long time, all doubts, fears, regret, sadness, discontent, resentment, anger, and memories left me. There was only passion, love, and Sydney.
***
I awakened slowly. The first sensation I became aware of was an unfamiliar bed. Then an all-too-familiar pounding in my head told me that I spent a foolish night drinking. Why did I do such an idiotic thing? I thought I gave all that up when…
Lauren…
Awareness came rushing back to me with that whisper of bittersweetness. I groaned inwardly and turned over to see a smooth bare back, disappearing into a sheet at one end, and a disarray of long chestnut hair at the other. Something deep inside of me expected to see a mass of blonde instead.
I’d always been attracted to blondes, which left me at somewhat of a loss when I started feeling attraction for Sydney. Physically, she had been completely opposite of my "type."
Lauren was every bit my "type." Perhaps that was the point whispered a voice deep inside my psyche.
Though she wasn't my usual physical ideal, Syd never disappointed me in that respect. Without thinking about sex, I still found her to be magnificent. Even at that moment, staring at her back, watching the rise and fall of her breath, I felt nothing less than fascination.
But the one thing I did truly like more about Lauren was her hair. A plentitude of gold that I could wrap my hands in, and bury my face. When she wore it loose, it would always spread out to frame her face. And it always smelled like lavender, a scent I found soothing due to my mother's tendency to use it. Also purposeful? said that voice again.
Syd's hair was always so straight, so tame. Its only saving graces were that it felt incredibly soft to the touch, and the color wasn't just brown. When viewed in the proper light, it shimmered with highlights of mahogany, auburn, and copper.
Lauren's hair was one solid shade of blonde. She told me that she was naturally blonde, but her shade was so dark and uneven that she preferred to color it to a lighter and more uniform color. More artifice?
That voice started to become annoying. Perhaps then I knew why I got drunk last night.
Syd suddenly began to stretch, and rolled over, her eyes already open and searching for me. "Were you watching me?" she teased, her voice tinged by sleep.
"I haven't seen you like this in almost three years. I'm enjoying the view." I whispered softly, reverently, regretfully. I let my admiration for her fill my eyes.
Sadness quickly filled hers. "It only seems like not quite a year for me."
I reached across the bed to her and pulled her into my arms. "I'm sorry," I murmured into her neck. I got the feeling that she didn't know whether to accept my apology, or to tell me there's no need. She did neither, she just settled into my embrace instead. After a few moments, she spoke softly into my ear.
"I can't blame you just because I don't remember that time. That when I woke up, if felt like only the night before we were deeply in love."
"That didn't change." I gently rebuked her.
"No, Vaughn, it didn't. But we did. I may not remember, but I did things during that time, things I thought I would never do. I wasn't exactly celibate either. And you, you…" She went silent.
Lauren…The name sprang once again to my mind.
She was, of course, right. Neither of us were the same two CIA agents that three years ago, chased the bad guys together, and then at the end of the day, fell into bed together, giddy with new love. We were both older, much more jaded individuals. Yes, the love still dwelled there, but we couldn't rush blindly into it.
I felt Syd snuggle into me more, her body promising the same thing her smile did last night. I had to stop this. We needed to start acting intelligently, instead of reacting to emotion. If we didn't, the possibility existed that we could cause more heartbreak, and have no one but ourselves to blame. I felt the familiar walls closing around my heart, preparing to protect me for the confrontation ahead.
"I need to get up. I don't feel very good." It wasn't at all a lie, but it was still a deflection, and I felt guilty for it. She let go of me and rolled onto her back, disappointment clear in her face. Then replaced by sympathy.
"Yeah, neither do I. Do you think we drank too much last night?" She grimaced as she realized her own hungover state.
I rose from the bed and headed out of the room. I hoped I could remember where the bathroom was.
"Definitely. I think I’m going to be sick." I made it to the bathroom, and fortunately, didn't lose the contents of my stomach. I splashed some cold water on my face, and opened up the medicine cabinet, looking for pain reliever. Finding some generic ibuprofen, I got a couple out and swallowed them dry.
I walked back into the bedroom. Syd still lay in bed, with her arms up and resting on her head, shading her closed eyes from the morning sun.
"Oh, I am so happy we don’t have to go to work." She opened her eyes and peered at me from beneath her arms. Just in time to see me pull on my pants. She sighed, and rolled out of the bed, still nude.
She looked so beautiful, last night had been so incredible, and I asked myself if I was doing the right thing.
Syd retrieved a long robe from her closet, and wrapped herself in it. She then went to the bathroom, and avoided looking at me. I had to be doing the right thing. If I wasn't, well then I just burned all of my bridges, and I would lose her for good. I didn’t know how I could handle that.
I started towards the living room. "Where's your coffee? I'll make us some." I called to the bathroom.
"In the cabinet next to the fridge." Her voice sounded strained, and I wondered if she was trying as hard not to be sick as I did. I didn't go and check on her though. Instead I went to the kitchen, and started the coffee. I found the mugs as well, and pulled a couple out. Just as the coffee finished, she came into the kitchen. She had brushed her hair, and washed her face. I poured her a cup, and gave it to her. She gave me a little smile that I knew meant nothing more than "thank you."
We both reconvened to the living room couch, the place where last night, we had indulged ourselves to our eventual sorrow. And again, just like last night, an awkward silence made itself present. Syd also broke the silence this time.
"Vaughn, was there something wrong with last night?" She looked me squarely in the eye.
"No!" I said immediately, giving in to that instinct men have to protect themselves when women ask them such questions. Then I gazed down and told her the truth. "Yes."
"What?" Syd looked genuinely puzzled. I knew she probably had all sorts of theories, but had no idea which one to go with. I also knew that I needed to give her an explanation. I braced myself mentally, and began.
"Sydney, I have no regrets about anything that happened last night. Between us. But within me, there is plenty to regret. I can't stop thinking about her." I looked up to see what her response would be. She simply nodded. I continued. "Ever since I was released from the hospital, I can barely go an hour without remembering something about her. The good things that happened between us! It's awful, it's horrible. She's the very last thing I want to think about, but it's all too easy to do." I had to stop. A lump actually began to form in my throat.
Syd put her coffee down, and laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "I understand. When Irina… my mother escaped, I felt so betrayed. Even though I was so angry at her, I couldn't help but remember the good things that had happened between us while she was here. She had reestablished herself as my mother, and no matter what happened, I couldn't help but think of her that way." She paused, unsure of how to continue. But I was able to speak again.
"I married her Syd. I thought I loved her, and I married her. I took vows. 'Until death do us part.' And that isn't exactly what happened. But she did give me some good memories, and I can't just forget."
Forgetting about the coffee, I sunk my head into hands, and tried very hard not to give in to the despair that followed my words. I felt Syd put her arms around me, and rest her head on mine. We stayed that way for a few minutes, and I took comfort from the silent embrace.
Then I shook myself inside, and extracted myself. I needed to make this cut, now, before I went too far.
"Sydney," and the tone of my voice immediately commanded her attention. "As much as I would like to continue what happened here last night, to rebuild what we had before, I can't. Not right now." Her eyes looked at me expectantly, waiting for the reason. Of course I would give her one, she deserved it.
"I need some time alone. To sort out all my personal affairs that have been disrupted. To sort out myself. You don't need me the way I am now, Syd. I'm still too tainted by what happened. I need to get her out of me."
Tears glistened in Sydney's eyes, and I knew they lurked in mine as well. But I couldn't take this back. I couldn't sweep it under the rug, say "screw it" and carry her back into the bedroom. I owed it to her to come back to her whole. And I needed to be away from her to do that. Otherwise, I'd just use her as a crutch.
She nodded, even though I could tell that she didn't entirely agree. But then her eyes looked over my shoulder, at that cluttered table, and I knew she was thinking of whatever occupied her time while I was in the hospital. She glanced back at me.
"Vaughn, you're right. There's some things I need to do as well."
And that was it.
We silently finished our coffee, we dressed, and Sydney showed me to her door. But before she closed it behind me, she gave me one of her pleading looks, the kind that always had me wrapped around her finger.
"We will do this, won’t we?" I smiled at her.
"Of course, Syd. And then we’ll live each day for itself. For us."
***
It’s been about a month since that day. I haven’t heard anything from Sydney, nor have I tried to contact her.
Instead, I’ve been spending my time taking inventory. Finding out what the CIA agents took out of my house, and what they left. Boxing up what I didn’t want, and giving it to charity. Packing what I did, and finding a new apartment. Selling the house.
Going through the stuff triggered many, many memories. The places Lauren and I went together, and some of the crazy little knick-knacks we brought back. The art we both liked and adorned the walls with. All the household items we picked out together, some of them we bought, some of them given to us as wedding gifts.
After that, I took full advantage of my leave, and traveled. This time, not to escape, but to find. I visited my mother and had a very long, heart wrenching conversation with her. I went to each of places I treasured with Lauren, discarded the memory, and said goodbye. And I also went to each of the places I defiled Sydney’s memory with my drunkenness, and apologized.
Many times, I was overcome. Sometimes, it was by my emotions; intense feelings of guilt, anger, grief, regret, self-loathing. Other times, it was by those tarnished memories. But each time my mind wandered down those familiar pathways of pain, I remembered Sydney, and the promise we made to each other.
I still have those moments. Those familiar little moments that almost make me want to crawl back into that same bottle I crawled into when Sydney disappeared. But I fight those moments, using her memory as my weapon. And I win against the darkness that threatens to take me again.
It happens every day.
~*~
it was sad and good lol plz pm me if/when ur gonna update ^_^ i loved it lol
