Over the years I've watched you grow. I remember each and every aspect of your life. When I found out I was pregnant with you, I was happy as can be, so was your father. We knew it would be eight more months till you actually came into the world. We never knew that something so terrible could happen in those months. It was in the fifth month of my pregnancy, your father went on a simple recon mission, We both thought it would be safe, just simple spying, little did we know that they were expecting him, He was found and they killed him. I knew who had killed him. A man named Julian Sark. I broke down the day I found out what had happen to him. You would come into this world without a father, to raise you. I swore on your father's grave I would kill the man who took your father before you knew him. On the day of your birth, in that tiny delivery room was the men who helped me raise you. Your grandfather Jack, your Uncle Will, and your Uncle Eric. Neither Eric nor Will was your true uncle, but Will was my best friend, and Eric your father's. I remember seeing you for the first time ever. I knew right then that your father was alive in you. I named you Michael Christopher Vaughn Jr. after your late father. My love for you became unconditional. I decided for the best to quit the agency and become a teacher. Quitting meant giving up searching for Sark, but I knew your grandmother would find him for me; after all she was Irena Dervko.
You spoke your first words at two. Your grandfather, and Uncles Eric and Will were over. You walked up to me and said "mama." Everyone was impressed. So Grandpa Jack tried to get you to say "Grandpa." You managed to say "Papa." That was good enough for him. Uncle Eric was convinced that he could get you to say Uncle Eric. He pulled you over and said Uncle Eric. You pointed at him and blew a raspberry thing. For that day forward when every you saw each other you blow a raspberry at each other.
The one thing that sticks out most in my mind was when you were five. You and Grandpa Jack were walking in the park. You watched all the boys your age playing catch with their fathers. You looked up and said to him,
"Grandpa, why don't I have a dad like everyone else, was I a bad boy?" You asked looking said. For the first time in your grandpa's life he didn't have an answer. He was heartbroken to hear you ask was it because you were a bad boy?
"No, Michael," he answered you, "It wasn't because you were a bad boy."
"Then why?" you persisted
"That's something you'll have to ask, mommy when we get home." He took your hand and led you home. He told you to go and get a bag packed with some clothes because you were spending the night at his house. You ran away so happy, because you were spending the night at grandpa's. I smiled as you ran down to your room, I looked back up at my father and saw that look of hurt on his face I asked what's wrong.
"Sydney," He began, "Michael asked me today when we were in the park why, he didn't have a father like every one else."
"What did you say, to him?" I asked
"Sydney, for the first time in my life I didn't have an answer."
"What will I tell him?"
"I know you might want to kill me for suggesting this and all but, how about if Eric and Will tell him."
"No, I should tell him."
"If you want to then do it, but Eric and Will would do it for you."
"I know, I know."
"There is just one more thing before we leave."
"What?"
"Your mother is at my house."
"WHAT!"
"Shh, she wants to wants to met her grandson."
"Dad, I don't want Michael knowing that woman." I told him
"Sydney, please let Michael meet her." Reluctantly I agreed and you met your grandmother that night. The next morning your grandpa told me all about it. How when you walked in you saw her sitting on the couch.
"Grandpa, who's that?" you asked curiously
"That Michael is your grandmother." He told you, the next moment you ran over to her and hugged her. Both my mother and father were taken back. You never met her, but you embraced her like you had known her. It was that night; you and your grandmother began your friendship. You'd call her every week, and every year, for a month you went to stay with her. I didn't like the idea of you being with her for a month. Your Uncle Eric joked that she was probably teaching you how to be a spy. I worried that was what was happening. You father reassured me that, he visited one day and asked what you two did. He told me that you played Hockey, learned to defend your self, and acted like your grandmother wasn't a wanted terrorist. After one visit, when you were twelve, you came home and asked why I had never told you about what I really twelve years ago and about Julian Sark. Your grandmother had told you all about my past, and you swore you would be the one to find and kill Sark. I saw hatred in your eyes as you spoke of Sark's name. I didn't know wither I was to be angry, or relived. I had tried to tell you the truth so many times but couldn't, then again I wanted to be the one to tell you. You said that when you had the chance you would make him pay.
For the next few years you led a normal life. You had close friends, and you became deeply involved in hockey. There were times I knew your father was watching over you. When you won the league championship, I could see your father in you that night. You made every time in high school, in your junior year, you decided to only play hockey. You weren't sure what you wanted to do after collage. I thought you'd want to play pro hockey, but you said no, you wanted to do something more. You were accepted into UCLA, your dream collage as you called it. The CIA contacted me for the first time in nineteen years. They told me they were going to recruit you. I objected, I didn't want you ended up like your father. Over my objections you were still recruited. I remember the conversation we had about it. I told you not to do it.
"Why not?" You asked
"Michael," I told you, "This isn't any ordinary job, you could die, you can't tell your friends why would you want to."
"Because, I could have a chance to bring the man who killed my father to justice!" You yelled at me. I became heartbroken. I realized you were doing this to kill the man who murdered your father. It became official the next day, you had joined the CIA. You trained harder then any other recruit, you did everything right. You heard whispers thought out the halls of the office for the next few years. About the missions your father went on. You came to me one day after hearing a story that you didn't know was true or not. You had heard that I went missing for two years and in those years your father married a woman named Lauren Reed. I reappeared and your father became torn between Lauren and I. Eventually it was revealed that Lauren was a double agent, working for a group called the covenant. I went to find Lauren and she almost killed me, your father appeared and shot Lauren, in the end killing her. I told you the truth. That really did happen. You were shocked to hear that your father killed his wife, I tried to explain to you that the woman he killed wasn't his wife, she was told to marry him. You yelled at he had fallen in love with her or he wouldn't have married her at all. I couldn't for the life of me understand why this would hurt you so much. You said your father was nothing but a killer, that he probably learned it all for his father. I was so shocked to hear you say that. I had of course never told you about your grandfather Vaughn. You had been told he died of natural cause when you were two. I never had the heart to tell you your grandfather followed the man who ruined my life. A man name Rambaldi. I asked you if you had heard of a room, with a book in it. It had the name of every CIA agent who had died in action. I said your father and grandfathers names were in that book. That your father killed Lauren Reed to save my life, then was killed by Sark, because he killed Lauren. I looked at you, you had this look of hurt on your face, I said there was more.
"Michael," I began, "This is probably killing you inside to hear but there is more to the story.
"Sark killed my father because of Lauren." You asked
"Yes."
"And how did my grandfather die?"
How could I tell you that he died at the hands of your Grandmother Dervko.
"You see Michael, your grandfather Vaughn, he followed Rambaldi."
"Rambaldi, I've heard that name before."
"He was a fifth-teen century scholar he made prophecies, there was one about me as well."
"How does this fit in with my grandfather?"
"Your grandfather followed this man."
"Did the CIA kill him?"
"No, your grandmother did. He somehow failed to complete his orders and she killed him." Again your face was full of hurt, you managed to chock out, that if your grandfather followed him he deserved to die. Then you stormed out of the house. That was the last time we ever spoke about your grandfather Vaughn. You kept your relationship grandmother somehow, you never asked or brought up your grandfather Vaughn. I heard from your Uncle Eric, that you went to see the book with the names of the deceased agents. He said you looked at the page with your father's name on it for a long time, nobody bothered to ask you why.
The happiest moment of my life was when you were married. I had meet Nicole millions of times and every time I seemed to like her more. You told me that you and Nicole were engaged, and I was so happy for you. I remember the wedding so well. You stood up at the front of the church, waiting anxiously for your bride, even though you were 23 you were still my little boy. I watched you stumble though your vows, you started to cry when Nicole read hers. You Uncle Will put his arm around me and whispered that he was going to be as happy as me someday.
Within a year of your marriage to Nicole, you were expecting your first child. You had this energy when you talked about how Nicole was pregnant. One day Nicole came to me when she was pregnant. She was worried that during the pregnancy you would die on a mission. I asked her if you ever told her how your father died. She said no, all you said that it was on a mission. I told her, that when I was pregnant with you, your father went on a simple recon mission, he was captured and executed. The look on her face changed from worried to devastated. I said to her that you never knew your father and you would make sure that you child would know their child. I asked where you had gone this time.
"Michael went to France, he kind of scared once he came home." Nicole told me
"Why?" I asked
"I don't know, he said something about a man named Sark, do you know who he is?" She asked reading the look on my face. I nodded my head in reply.
"Who is he." She asked me
"He's the man that killed Michael's father, know he's going to go and kill him." Nicole looked worried, I couldn't say I wasn't either. You had gone to face Julian Sark by your self. I wasn't sure if you would be there to raise your child anymore. Nicole and I got the news of how the mission went the very next day.
Every day I would go down to Michael Christopher Vaughn's grave. Now Nicole goes down to the grave. She brings her little boy too, Michael Christopher Vaughn III. He'd stand on the grave and says "I love you, Daddy." You'd kneel beside him and go "I love you too son." You'd give him a hug and then you would whisper "I love you Dad." Then you'd go over to my grave and say "I love you Mom." and pick your son up and say to him "I'm so glad I have you." He says back to you "I'm glad I've got you too." You, Nicole and Michael would walk away leaving behind the tombstones of your parents. You then go into the office with you son in tow. You go in to the Cell part of the office,. You would walk down a long row of cells, finally you'd reach the end containing a man named Julian Sark. He look up at you. You would say to him, while holding your son,
"You could never keep me from him."
"I managed to keep your father from you though."
"No, you failed that as well."
"Your father died before you could ever met him."
"Maybe, but that didn't keep him from living in me." You'd walk away carrying your son, holding him tight, whispering in his ear, "Over the years I'll watch you grow."
You spoke your first words at two. Your grandfather, and Uncles Eric and Will were over. You walked up to me and said "mama." Everyone was impressed. So Grandpa Jack tried to get you to say "Grandpa." You managed to say "Papa." That was good enough for him. Uncle Eric was convinced that he could get you to say Uncle Eric. He pulled you over and said Uncle Eric. You pointed at him and blew a raspberry thing. For that day forward when every you saw each other you blow a raspberry at each other.
The one thing that sticks out most in my mind was when you were five. You and Grandpa Jack were walking in the park. You watched all the boys your age playing catch with their fathers. You looked up and said to him,
"Grandpa, why don't I have a dad like everyone else, was I a bad boy?" You asked looking said. For the first time in your grandpa's life he didn't have an answer. He was heartbroken to hear you ask was it because you were a bad boy?
"No, Michael," he answered you, "It wasn't because you were a bad boy."
"Then why?" you persisted
"That's something you'll have to ask, mommy when we get home." He took your hand and led you home. He told you to go and get a bag packed with some clothes because you were spending the night at his house. You ran away so happy, because you were spending the night at grandpa's. I smiled as you ran down to your room, I looked back up at my father and saw that look of hurt on his face I asked what's wrong.
"Sydney," He began, "Michael asked me today when we were in the park why, he didn't have a father like every one else."
"What did you say, to him?" I asked
"Sydney, for the first time in my life I didn't have an answer."
"What will I tell him?"
"I know you might want to kill me for suggesting this and all but, how about if Eric and Will tell him."
"No, I should tell him."
"If you want to then do it, but Eric and Will would do it for you."
"I know, I know."
"There is just one more thing before we leave."
"What?"
"Your mother is at my house."
"WHAT!"
"Shh, she wants to wants to met her grandson."
"Dad, I don't want Michael knowing that woman." I told him
"Sydney, please let Michael meet her." Reluctantly I agreed and you met your grandmother that night. The next morning your grandpa told me all about it. How when you walked in you saw her sitting on the couch.
"Grandpa, who's that?" you asked curiously
"That Michael is your grandmother." He told you, the next moment you ran over to her and hugged her. Both my mother and father were taken back. You never met her, but you embraced her like you had known her. It was that night; you and your grandmother began your friendship. You'd call her every week, and every year, for a month you went to stay with her. I didn't like the idea of you being with her for a month. Your Uncle Eric joked that she was probably teaching you how to be a spy. I worried that was what was happening. You father reassured me that, he visited one day and asked what you two did. He told me that you played Hockey, learned to defend your self, and acted like your grandmother wasn't a wanted terrorist. After one visit, when you were twelve, you came home and asked why I had never told you about what I really twelve years ago and about Julian Sark. Your grandmother had told you all about my past, and you swore you would be the one to find and kill Sark. I saw hatred in your eyes as you spoke of Sark's name. I didn't know wither I was to be angry, or relived. I had tried to tell you the truth so many times but couldn't, then again I wanted to be the one to tell you. You said that when you had the chance you would make him pay.
For the next few years you led a normal life. You had close friends, and you became deeply involved in hockey. There were times I knew your father was watching over you. When you won the league championship, I could see your father in you that night. You made every time in high school, in your junior year, you decided to only play hockey. You weren't sure what you wanted to do after collage. I thought you'd want to play pro hockey, but you said no, you wanted to do something more. You were accepted into UCLA, your dream collage as you called it. The CIA contacted me for the first time in nineteen years. They told me they were going to recruit you. I objected, I didn't want you ended up like your father. Over my objections you were still recruited. I remember the conversation we had about it. I told you not to do it.
"Why not?" You asked
"Michael," I told you, "This isn't any ordinary job, you could die, you can't tell your friends why would you want to."
"Because, I could have a chance to bring the man who killed my father to justice!" You yelled at me. I became heartbroken. I realized you were doing this to kill the man who murdered your father. It became official the next day, you had joined the CIA. You trained harder then any other recruit, you did everything right. You heard whispers thought out the halls of the office for the next few years. About the missions your father went on. You came to me one day after hearing a story that you didn't know was true or not. You had heard that I went missing for two years and in those years your father married a woman named Lauren Reed. I reappeared and your father became torn between Lauren and I. Eventually it was revealed that Lauren was a double agent, working for a group called the covenant. I went to find Lauren and she almost killed me, your father appeared and shot Lauren, in the end killing her. I told you the truth. That really did happen. You were shocked to hear that your father killed his wife, I tried to explain to you that the woman he killed wasn't his wife, she was told to marry him. You yelled at he had fallen in love with her or he wouldn't have married her at all. I couldn't for the life of me understand why this would hurt you so much. You said your father was nothing but a killer, that he probably learned it all for his father. I was so shocked to hear you say that. I had of course never told you about your grandfather Vaughn. You had been told he died of natural cause when you were two. I never had the heart to tell you your grandfather followed the man who ruined my life. A man name Rambaldi. I asked you if you had heard of a room, with a book in it. It had the name of every CIA agent who had died in action. I said your father and grandfathers names were in that book. That your father killed Lauren Reed to save my life, then was killed by Sark, because he killed Lauren. I looked at you, you had this look of hurt on your face, I said there was more.
"Michael," I began, "This is probably killing you inside to hear but there is more to the story.
"Sark killed my father because of Lauren." You asked
"Yes."
"And how did my grandfather die?"
How could I tell you that he died at the hands of your Grandmother Dervko.
"You see Michael, your grandfather Vaughn, he followed Rambaldi."
"Rambaldi, I've heard that name before."
"He was a fifth-teen century scholar he made prophecies, there was one about me as well."
"How does this fit in with my grandfather?"
"Your grandfather followed this man."
"Did the CIA kill him?"
"No, your grandmother did. He somehow failed to complete his orders and she killed him." Again your face was full of hurt, you managed to chock out, that if your grandfather followed him he deserved to die. Then you stormed out of the house. That was the last time we ever spoke about your grandfather Vaughn. You kept your relationship grandmother somehow, you never asked or brought up your grandfather Vaughn. I heard from your Uncle Eric, that you went to see the book with the names of the deceased agents. He said you looked at the page with your father's name on it for a long time, nobody bothered to ask you why.
The happiest moment of my life was when you were married. I had meet Nicole millions of times and every time I seemed to like her more. You told me that you and Nicole were engaged, and I was so happy for you. I remember the wedding so well. You stood up at the front of the church, waiting anxiously for your bride, even though you were 23 you were still my little boy. I watched you stumble though your vows, you started to cry when Nicole read hers. You Uncle Will put his arm around me and whispered that he was going to be as happy as me someday.
Within a year of your marriage to Nicole, you were expecting your first child. You had this energy when you talked about how Nicole was pregnant. One day Nicole came to me when she was pregnant. She was worried that during the pregnancy you would die on a mission. I asked her if you ever told her how your father died. She said no, all you said that it was on a mission. I told her, that when I was pregnant with you, your father went on a simple recon mission, he was captured and executed. The look on her face changed from worried to devastated. I said to her that you never knew your father and you would make sure that you child would know their child. I asked where you had gone this time.
"Michael went to France, he kind of scared once he came home." Nicole told me
"Why?" I asked
"I don't know, he said something about a man named Sark, do you know who he is?" She asked reading the look on my face. I nodded my head in reply.
"Who is he." She asked me
"He's the man that killed Michael's father, know he's going to go and kill him." Nicole looked worried, I couldn't say I wasn't either. You had gone to face Julian Sark by your self. I wasn't sure if you would be there to raise your child anymore. Nicole and I got the news of how the mission went the very next day.
Every day I would go down to Michael Christopher Vaughn's grave. Now Nicole goes down to the grave. She brings her little boy too, Michael Christopher Vaughn III. He'd stand on the grave and says "I love you, Daddy." You'd kneel beside him and go "I love you too son." You'd give him a hug and then you would whisper "I love you Dad." Then you'd go over to my grave and say "I love you Mom." and pick your son up and say to him "I'm so glad I have you." He says back to you "I'm glad I've got you too." You, Nicole and Michael would walk away leaving behind the tombstones of your parents. You then go into the office with you son in tow. You go in to the Cell part of the office,. You would walk down a long row of cells, finally you'd reach the end containing a man named Julian Sark. He look up at you. You would say to him, while holding your son,
"You could never keep me from him."
"I managed to keep your father from you though."
"No, you failed that as well."
"Your father died before you could ever met him."
"Maybe, but that didn't keep him from living in me." You'd walk away carrying your son, holding him tight, whispering in his ear, "Over the years I'll watch you grow."