The Black of Night
Disclaimer: I own nothing Alias related. I only claim to own the plot.
Rating: Sever angst and violence ahead. Rated R
Personal A/N: A lot of things that are going to be addressed in this fic are based on real situations. There is a lot of domestic violence. I lived through it as a kid and well into my early teens, and this subject hit particularly close to my heart so please be gentle with your reviews and comments. A lot that happens in this story happened to my mother and me many years ago. If you have an issue with this fic, I kindly ask you to refrain from reading it.
Just so it gets said, there is absolutely no sexual violence in this fic.
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Chapter 1: Another Ditch in the Road
The dark highway stretched out for miles as various signs flew by at breakneck speed. I chanced a brief glance into the backseat where little Noah sat with his hand stretched out toward his older brother. Jake may have a clue as to what's going on; for a four-year old he's remarkably astute. He also lived with the violence and verbal abuse for a bit longer than his little two-year old brother. But my sweet Noah is naive.
'It hadn't always been this way,' I tell myself trying desperately to find solace in those words. It was, in part, true. In the beginning Rick had been so sweet and kind, drawing me to him with gentle yet piercing blue eyes and a calm spirit. The rage only began after he lost his job and couldn't find work.
Along with that came the drinking, and along with the drinking came the arguments. I kept telling myself I could handle it; that no matter what, I'd be fine. He never showed any signs of violence, just – yelling. Which I know, don't say it. I took psychology in high school and college.
"Verbal abuse is most often worse than being struck," I remember my teacher explaining.
Yeah…right. Chances are, people who say that have never been struck. Not by someone you love. Loved – past tense.
But I finally listened to my friends and family. I finally got up enough courage to leave. Well…I wouldn't exactly call it courage. He finally did it - he hit one of the boys. Apparently that was my limit.
I look back into the mirror and see Noah's zonked out and Jake's bright questioning eyes looking over at me. He had his own little bruises from where his father had grabbed him and threw him into time-out – not to mention the stripe of red across his cheek as a result of a slap with a belt. Finger shaped spots dotted his little arm, and I have to wonder if waiting all this time to leave has had any damaging or lasting imprints on my kiddos.
I pray that anything that's happened in the initial two years of Noah's life isn't his first memory. Shifting my eyes back to the road, another mile goes by as the bright lights of the city finally disappear behind us.
"Mommy?" Jake's quiet voice broke the silence of the car, and I look into the rear-view mirror once more.
"Yes, honey?"
"Is daddy gonna get us?" his worried voice breaks my heart. No child should ever fear a parent.
"No, sweetheart. We're going to stay with grandma and papa for a little while."
I thought I saw the faint hint of a smile on his face as he turned to look back out the window.
There wasn't too much to be said other than that. I longed to apologize to him for everything I'd put him through, but he just wouldn't understand. I can help but think that our escape as apology; as a hopeful gift to my little boys for a brighter future. I can't help but try anything to keep my mind off of the last damn twenty four hours; nothing was working.
"Hey, Becky, how were they?" Sydney put the smile onto her face after reapplying her cover-up in the car and walked into the in-house daycare that Jake and Noah frequented.
She and Becky had gone to school together and had been long-time friends, so when she found out that they lived close to one another – and that she managed a daycare center from her home – she'd asked about prices. Becky, true to her word, said not to worry about it.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" the blonde asked as she lifted up a whimpering toddler and setting it to her hip as another clung to her opposite side.
"Ummm, it's Thursday? I dropped my kids off this morning and I'm here to take them home? I mean, if you wanna keep 'em that's fine with me," Sydney grinned until she saw the confusion in her friend's eyes.
"Rick picked 'em up about two hours ago. He said his interview was cancelled and so he'd dropped by so you wouldn't have to. What's up? Didn't he call you?" she asked, seeing Syd's eyes go wide.
"No, it's fine. He…he didn't call me. I'll see you tomorrow, okay Becks?"
Without waiting for a reply, she bolted to the car and quickly backed out the driveway. Stopping abruptly in front of the medium sized townhouse, she ignored the mailbox brimming with bills and went to the front door. Finding it locked, she cursed and fished for her house keys in her messy purse. Rick had never once struck one of the children, but his constant shouting and belittling had reduced them each to tears on more than one occasion. She was satisfied to take the brunt of his occasional slaps if it meant he didn't harm Jake or Noah.
Finally locating them and tossing the door open, an eerily quiet house awaited her.
"Hello?" she called tentatively, knowing that if Rick were sleeping she'd face hell by waking him up. She noticed little Noah sitting at the table quietly, a single car being pushed in front of him.
"Momma," he waved over at her in a quiet voice.
"Where's daddy?" she asked after setting her things down on the end table next to the couch. He pointed up, signifying that his father was indeed sleeping instead of watching the kids.
"Where's Jake?"
He pointed over to the stairs that lead to the basement, and she quickly rushed over to open the door. Thankfully, the light from the sliding glass doors below provided his dark corner with some brightness, but she turned on the overhead bulb anyway.
He flinched, looking back down at his feet, not daring to let his eyes wander up.
"Honey? You okay?" Sydney asked, taking the stairs two at a time to rescue the little boy from a probably unneeded time-out session.
He turned to look up at her and her heart stopped at the long welt across his cheek. It started underneath his left eye and stretched down next to his chin, and instantly her heart broke for her baby.
"Jaky, I need you to tell me what happened," she calmly stroked his hair as he threw himself into her arms.
"I was playing ball with Noah, and it rollded into daddy's worky room. I went to get it an he yellded at me lots," he sobbed, his hand holding his cheek.
"What happened to your face, baby?" she pulled him back, turning his head to the side with gentle hands and examining the raised abrasion more closely.
"He tooked off his pants holder,"
"His pants holder?" confusion filled her voice as she racked her brain to try and understand his simple logic.
He merely nodded and pointed to the floor where Rick's belt sat tauntingly.
That's what he'd been looking at this whole time; that's what his father told him to stare at. A rage she'd never felt before rose up and she instantly stood, taking him with her. Stalking into the kitchen, Noah looking up as she set Jake on the bench that served as the chairs for one half of the table, she spoke in a stern voice. "Take your brother outside and play with Sammy please." Jake jumped to put his sibling's shoes on as the toddler poked the welt on the side of his brother's cheek.
"Owie?"
"Don't touch it," the little boy growled, pulling away and helping Noah up before they left through the front door. She made sure their next door neighbor's eight year old had invited them over before taking the stairs two at a time until she reached the bedroom.
Fear lodged into her throat, but it was quickly pushed aside as anger filled her once more. Grabbing the knob and throwing the door open, it crashed into the wall and jarred the sleeping man from his slumber.
"Don't you ever touch them again," she snarled, her face red with rage, the vein in her forehead becoming more pronounced as she pointed her finger threateningly at him.
"Excuse me?" his voice was low and menacing as he stood from the bed and slowly walked toward his wife.
"I don't care what you say to me, or…or if you hit me, but those boys are innocent! If I hear of you hitting them again, either of them, you will find yourself behind bars so quick it'll blow your mind." She was running on pure adrenaline – and shock – and she was thankful that with the endorphins coursing through her body she barely felt his hand as it connected with her cheek.
"You want me to hit you? Fine," another well placed smack with the back of his hand split her lip and quickly knocked her to the floor. "You think about that. I'm goin' to get a drink," he spat and walked from the room.
She heard his echoing footsteps, then finally the sound of his keys rattling as he left the house.
Sydney shuddered as her eyes landed on the large bruise peeking out from underneath her cover-up and the split in her lip she'd been unsuccessful at hiding. Driving through the night until she reached the airport in Vegas, she unloaded the toddler as Jake unbuckled himself and climbed over the console to her open door.
"Baby, don't go too far – wait for mommy."
"I will, momma." True to his word, the little boy waited patiently for his mother.
Managing a still sleeping two-year old against her shoulder as well as grabbing their one large suitcase, she stuck out her pinky to her eldest.
The pitch black of the night was offset by the bustling lights of the bright city, a man standing and waiting for her at the entrance to her terminal.
"Are you Jack Bristow's daughter?" He immediately grabbed the heavy carry-case at her tentative nod, noticing the way the little boy hid behind his mother.
"Assuming you know my father's name and who to ask for, you're Michael Vaughn?"
"Yes, I am."
"My father didn't need to drag you out of bed and across the country to pick me up,"
The green-eyed man chuckled, setting her mind at ease. "No, ma'am, it was no problem at all. My father and I are more than willing to help you with your case, so it was my pleasure."
She nodded her head in thanks, though the bags underneath her eyes showed her fatigue. He took a moment to search her eyes and quickly noticed a profound sadness permeating through her gaze.
Silently walking her and the children to the private plane, he stored their items and gave the go-ahead to the pilot.
The silence was nearly palpable, only the soft words flowing from Sydney's mouth as she tucked Noah into one of the couches; a scratchy blue blanket covering his little body as an over-fluffed pillow propped up his head.
"Do you like to color?" Michael's voice pulled her focus to the other side of the plane where Jake was watching the plane taxi out of Las Vegas.
The timid little boy nodded, looking over at Sydney for permission, to which she agreed quickly. Vaughn smiled, pulling out a small coloring book from his carry-on and a handful of colorful crayons. Setting them on the table, he patiently waited for the little boy to approach him. He'd been entrusted with the safety of his father's biggest client, and he was going to make sure that Sydney and her son's trusted him – to some extent.
Jake approached the man slowly, glancing over and waiting for Sydney to oppose at any minute.
"Why don't you sit up here and buckle up that seat belt, big guy. You wouldn't want to slide around while we're taking off, would you?"
A shy negative shake of the head was his answer as he climbed up onto the bench and picked up two buckles. Unfortunately, they weren't compatible with one another and wouldn't click.
"Here, let me help." Michael reached out automatically, the child flinching back against his seat. Never in his life had he scared a kid, and though he knew it wasn't actually because of him, the fear in the boys blue eyes made him pull back quickly.
"Or…let's have your mommy do it; I'm sorry, big guy."
Sydney flashed him a small smile, moving across the fuselage and kneeling down in front of the four-year old. "Hey, little roo, it's okay. This is Mr. Vaughn, and he's taking us to grandma and papa. He didn't mean to scare you."
"Do you like him?"
"I trust your papa to send a good guy," she countered, not bringing up the fact that she wasn't in a trusting mood at the moment.
"Okay. Can I still color?" his voice was quiet, looking between the man and his mother.
"Of course you can. In a little bit I'm gonna put you in pajamas and want you to get some sleep, okay?"
Jake nodded, Sydney pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Look…why don't you get some rest? He'll color for a bit, I've got a good book, and…you look like you need it."
"Can I speak with you...alone for a moment?" Her voice was almost commanding, but the fact that she wasn't able to look him straight in the eye made her still somewhat insecure about ordering Vaughn around.
Michael nodded and rose, sending the attentive Jake a reassuring wink before following the frazzled and used young woman to the back of the plane. "I...I didn't mean to spook him, I really didn't-"
"Stop. It had nothing to do with you at all, it's...it's his father. I have nothing against you Mr. Vaughn, you seem nice and all, but my family isn't exactly trusting at the moment. I don't mean to be rude, but there's no way I'm going to take my eyes off of my boys. Please understand that."
Leaving him in his shocked position at the rear of the plane, she moved back up to sit nervously on the edge of the cough where baby Noah was sleeping. Silently chewing on her thumb nail, she watched Jake color.
Michael retook his seat, in awe of the woman across the fuselage as he lifted his book, pretending to read.
...
