Summary: A series of letters written, but remaining unsent. Sydney's inner thoughts as she goes about the trials and tribulations of season five.
A/N: I have wanted to write a season five fic for a very long time, but given that I am not as knowledgeable about it (yet) as the previous 4 seasons, I was unsure if I could really embark on a fic yet. However, this idea came to me and I thought 'This I can do'. The chapters are smaller than I usually write, however I think that there is a lot more to them. I can only hope that I serve the series justice. Let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: The title of this fic comes from the song 'The Water Is Wide' by Karla Bonoff.
She sat on the couch, exhausted. In front of her, the fireplace crackled. It really wasn't all that cold, but the flames would soon prove themselves necessary. Standing, she made her way over to the desk. With one eye on the framed photograph of him, she pulled out a piece of paper and pen. This would be the first one, but not the last, she knew. For this would be what it would take to keep her sane.
Dear Vaughn,
Today we buried you. And while I knew that the entire ceremony was a farce, I still felt my heart breaking in two. Because even though you are not dead, even though you still live, you are not here beside me. Is it crazy of me to think that it may be easier to continue if you were really dead?
Without you, I feel lost...off balance, almost. Knowing that you won't be there when I wake up, knowing that you won't be around to talk to for who knows how long, makes me feel as if the universe is completely out of whack.
How am I supposed to do this, Vaughn? Keep up the pretense of a grieving "widow" with the knowledge that you are not dead? I think that I have discovered a new form of torture, as I begin to go about my days, waiting for this to be over. Waiting to have your smile back in my life. But what tortures me the most is that now, more than ever, is a time that we should be spending together. How the hell am I supposed to bring our child into the world alone, when you are thousands of miles away...is there anything more wrong that you are being robbed of being involved in this experience. That I am being robbed of your amazing support that I so desperately need? I feel an anger seethe through me at the thought that a family is being ripped apart before it even begins.
I do try and focus on the positives- like that one day everything will be back in its place. But as soon as that tiny sliver of silver lining makes its way into my mind, the screaming negatives take over, making themselves loud and clear. How long will we have to wait before laying eyes on one another again? Do you have any idea what I would give up just to experience your touch one more time?
Dad keeps telling me to be strong- for yours and the baby's sake. How weird does that sound? The baby. Our baby, Vaughn. I promise you now that I will be doing everything in my power to ensure that you will be here to see our son or daughter grow up. What were the names you liked? Owen and Clementine...I'm sorry. No more joking around about the kid's name.
You know, we only agreed on Isabelle. I can't choose a name by myself. That should be our decision.
So here's hoping that she's a girl, hey?
I try and imagine what you must be going through- mentally and physically. I know that you must be in pain, but I know that you will come through this. You have to, Vaughn. The two of us are waiting for you to come back.
I should go...not that I want to. This letter has been the first conversation I've had with you since the hospital. If I listen hard enough, I can convince myself that I can hear your voice. Is that crazy? I don't care. I need you to get through the days.
Before I go, I have to ask you a question. How did you do it? When I "died" what was it that made you see the light at the end of tunnel? Your return is my light, but I need some serious help in making sure that I actually get there.
I love you, Vaughn. Come back to me soon,
Sydney
Placing the pen down, she stood up and made her way over to the fireplace. Reading over her words one last time, she released the paper into the flames. She could only hope that somehow they would end up where they were supposed to be.