Title: Waiting
Author: Jade (CmdrJade@aol.com)
Feedback: Please!
Summary: Sydney deals with Vaughn's disappearance. Response to CM's February Challenge
Spoilers: Almost Thirty Years
Category: Angst, Kinda AU
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: Anywhere! (Let me know where, so I can visit, though)
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.
**************
Sydney stood in her living room, unmoving. The suitcase she held in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud. She slowly turned towards the kitchen, where Francie was also motionless, concern etched into her face.
Sydney reached up to touch her hair, confirming that she actually had taken the blue wig off. She had.
But she had forgotten to cover up her bruises, had forgotten to wash the dried blood off her body, had forgotten to hide the tear tracks that stained her face.
Without a word, she walked to her bedroom, hoping Francie would not follow.
Five minutes later, she lay on her bed, shoes still on her feet, the covers still pulled up. Now, she almost wished Francie had followed her.
Sometime in the night, she fell asleep.
*
She was pounding on the glass with her bare hands, refusing to succumb to the resignation he so clearly stated with his look.
She never gave up. The guards never came.
Finally, it broke. Water flowed down the hall through the small window, escaping. Not fast enough.
She grabbed the sides of the small window, ignoring the glass that sliced easily through her hand. And pulled. She used all of her strength.
It opened as the last of the water flowed out. She ran into the room, searching for him.
His crumpled leather jacket lay in the middle of the floor. He swam, she thought suddenly. He swam to find a way out. Suddenly energized, she ran down the rest of the hallway. As she turned the corner, she tripped over his huddled body. Crawling back to where he was, she reached out to him, touched his face. He was shivering. But he was alive.
"You're alive," she said.
His eyes opened. "You waited."
"Of course," she said, puzzled. "I'll always wait for you."
*
Sydney awoke slowly. A few bliss filled moments passed before she realized it was a dream. Although awake, she did not move for hours.
***
The sudden light in his eyes killed his current running theory of his own blindness. A woman appeared in his line of sight, though she was blurred around the edges. He waited for his eyes to adjust.
The woman knelt down next to him. He thought for a brief, insane moment she was here to save him, that she was kneeling to unlock the chains that bound him to the wall.
"Mr. Vaughn," she said quietly. He stared, motionless, his eyes empty.
A thought compelled him. Another insane thought, racing through his mind. He couldn't stop the question, the hope, from leaving his mouth.
"Sydney?"
Her mouth quirked upward, but not in acknowledgement.
"No," she said. "But do you want to see her?"
He tried to remain passive, emotionless, but his eyes betrayed him. She smiled.
"Can--" his voice broke. "Can I see her?"
"Of course," she replied. "If you ever make it out of here alive."
He didn't have a response right away. He broke eye contact, looking around the bare room for anything that might aide in an escape.
"I'll see her again," he said, more to himself than her.
She smiled again. "You know, Mr. Vaughn," she started. "You're a lot like your father."
His eyes snapped back to hers. Suddenly, pieces began falling into place.
"The same eyes, different color," she continued. "Good swimmer. He believed he would escape until the day he died, too. Spent all day wishing for the woman he loved."
Vaughn shook with fury. "Bitch," he spit out.
She only smiled.
***
It had been a month since Vaughn went missing. The search team did not have any leads and the team itself was growing smaller by the day. Sydney barely worked. Francie pestered her about it, but received only silence in response. Will was distant.
Sydney finished lacing up her skates and took a tentative step onto the empty rink. She slowly skated along the sides, a hockey stick in hand. No one had understood her compulsive buy, other than Weiss and her dad.
She batted the small puck around for a little while but soon brought the stick back and swung. The puck flew wildly, hitting the Plexiglass behind the goal. Sudden anger washed through her and she brought the puck back for another hit.
Waves and waves of fury rushed through her body as she took hit after hit, blaming the puck for all that had gone wrong.
Her mom died. Swish. Her dad didn't pay attention. Clang. Junior year of high school her best friend committed suicide. Crash. Her first serious boyfriend in bed with her next best friend. Swish. Danny. SD-6. Her father. Vaughn's father. Her mother, alive, betrayed her all those years ago. Will's career, ruined. Vaughn. Vaughn. Vaughn.
The tears flowed down her face as she took a final angry swing. The puck sailed through the goal and Sydney, sobbing, collapsed to the ice.
***
"You call out for her as if she's here," she said. "As if she'll come."
Vaughn opened his eyes. It took all the strength he had to lift his head to meet her gaze.
"She will," he answered simply.
"You're sure?" she questioned, trying to sow the seed of doubt in his mind. He smirked inwardly. She wouldn't get to him. "Are you willing to wait for her?"
"Of course," he replied. "She'd wait for me."
***
Sydney walked into the kitchen to watch Francie cook dinner. She set the hockey stick against the wall. Francie eyed it, but did not ask. She already knew her answer anyway. Always silence.
"Can you love someone you don't know?" Sydney asked, startling Francie. She didn't answer right away.
"I'm sure you can. Who says you really ever know anybody?"
"I mean, you really don't know him. I know his name. His father's name. His job. His best friend's name. His favorite sport." Francie's eyes flicked to the hockey stick then back to Sydney.
"Well," Francie slowly answered. "Plenty of people have crushes on people they barely know."
"No," Sydney said, beginning to get frustrated. "I mean *love* them. I talk to him, work with him everyday. So I know him. But I don't know if he enjoys visiting his mother. I don't know if he's neat or messy. I don't know if he gets depressed, cuts himself to feel real pain. If he gets angry at his girlfriends and turns around to throw something, anything to avoid hitting them."
For once, the silence bothered Sydney. Although Francie was unsettled, it was a good sign that Sydney had spoken more than two words.
"Those aren't good things to know in a person," was all she could come up with.
Sydney bit her lip and looked away. "But I think I'd love him anyway. Despite any of that. As long as I got to know, I'd still love him."
***
"You play hockey, right?"
Vaughn didn't even look up. He almost had his plan worked out.
"You're very malnourished. Might not be able to play hockey again," she said.
He still didn't respond.
"It's been awhile. I don't think she's coming, Mr. Vaughn. She's given up on you."
He looked up at that. "She'd never lose hope. Never really lose it."
***
One month, two weeks, four days. Will visited more. The search had dwindled down to few. Weiss talked to her more often at work. He exchanged hockey stats with her, kept her up on the sport.
She came home that night, feeling alone, just like every other night. She read on the couch, ignored Will and Francie's concerned looks, and pretended to smile. Pretended the last month, two weeks, and four days had just been a rut.
She stood up to go to bed. Tomorrow morning she would get up and lie. Say it had been problems at work, with her dad, with everything else but with Michael Vaughn. She would reconstruct her broken world.
The phone rang. She picked it up and brought it to her hear, the "Hello?" already sounding more cheerful.
The pause on the other end lasted a split second, but enough to pique her interest.
"J--" it broke. "Joey's Pizza?"
The phone slipped from her hand and she dropped to the floor.
She waited for him. She did not wait in vain.
**************
The End
Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think!
Author: Jade (CmdrJade@aol.com)
Feedback: Please!
Summary: Sydney deals with Vaughn's disappearance. Response to CM's February Challenge
Spoilers: Almost Thirty Years
Category: Angst, Kinda AU
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: Anywhere! (Let me know where, so I can visit, though)
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.
**************
Sydney stood in her living room, unmoving. The suitcase she held in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud. She slowly turned towards the kitchen, where Francie was also motionless, concern etched into her face.
Sydney reached up to touch her hair, confirming that she actually had taken the blue wig off. She had.
But she had forgotten to cover up her bruises, had forgotten to wash the dried blood off her body, had forgotten to hide the tear tracks that stained her face.
Without a word, she walked to her bedroom, hoping Francie would not follow.
Five minutes later, she lay on her bed, shoes still on her feet, the covers still pulled up. Now, she almost wished Francie had followed her.
Sometime in the night, she fell asleep.
*
She was pounding on the glass with her bare hands, refusing to succumb to the resignation he so clearly stated with his look.
She never gave up. The guards never came.
Finally, it broke. Water flowed down the hall through the small window, escaping. Not fast enough.
She grabbed the sides of the small window, ignoring the glass that sliced easily through her hand. And pulled. She used all of her strength.
It opened as the last of the water flowed out. She ran into the room, searching for him.
His crumpled leather jacket lay in the middle of the floor. He swam, she thought suddenly. He swam to find a way out. Suddenly energized, she ran down the rest of the hallway. As she turned the corner, she tripped over his huddled body. Crawling back to where he was, she reached out to him, touched his face. He was shivering. But he was alive.
"You're alive," she said.
His eyes opened. "You waited."
"Of course," she said, puzzled. "I'll always wait for you."
*
Sydney awoke slowly. A few bliss filled moments passed before she realized it was a dream. Although awake, she did not move for hours.
***
The sudden light in his eyes killed his current running theory of his own blindness. A woman appeared in his line of sight, though she was blurred around the edges. He waited for his eyes to adjust.
The woman knelt down next to him. He thought for a brief, insane moment she was here to save him, that she was kneeling to unlock the chains that bound him to the wall.
"Mr. Vaughn," she said quietly. He stared, motionless, his eyes empty.
A thought compelled him. Another insane thought, racing through his mind. He couldn't stop the question, the hope, from leaving his mouth.
"Sydney?"
Her mouth quirked upward, but not in acknowledgement.
"No," she said. "But do you want to see her?"
He tried to remain passive, emotionless, but his eyes betrayed him. She smiled.
"Can--" his voice broke. "Can I see her?"
"Of course," she replied. "If you ever make it out of here alive."
He didn't have a response right away. He broke eye contact, looking around the bare room for anything that might aide in an escape.
"I'll see her again," he said, more to himself than her.
She smiled again. "You know, Mr. Vaughn," she started. "You're a lot like your father."
His eyes snapped back to hers. Suddenly, pieces began falling into place.
"The same eyes, different color," she continued. "Good swimmer. He believed he would escape until the day he died, too. Spent all day wishing for the woman he loved."
Vaughn shook with fury. "Bitch," he spit out.
She only smiled.
***
It had been a month since Vaughn went missing. The search team did not have any leads and the team itself was growing smaller by the day. Sydney barely worked. Francie pestered her about it, but received only silence in response. Will was distant.
Sydney finished lacing up her skates and took a tentative step onto the empty rink. She slowly skated along the sides, a hockey stick in hand. No one had understood her compulsive buy, other than Weiss and her dad.
She batted the small puck around for a little while but soon brought the stick back and swung. The puck flew wildly, hitting the Plexiglass behind the goal. Sudden anger washed through her and she brought the puck back for another hit.
Waves and waves of fury rushed through her body as she took hit after hit, blaming the puck for all that had gone wrong.
Her mom died. Swish. Her dad didn't pay attention. Clang. Junior year of high school her best friend committed suicide. Crash. Her first serious boyfriend in bed with her next best friend. Swish. Danny. SD-6. Her father. Vaughn's father. Her mother, alive, betrayed her all those years ago. Will's career, ruined. Vaughn. Vaughn. Vaughn.
The tears flowed down her face as she took a final angry swing. The puck sailed through the goal and Sydney, sobbing, collapsed to the ice.
***
"You call out for her as if she's here," she said. "As if she'll come."
Vaughn opened his eyes. It took all the strength he had to lift his head to meet her gaze.
"She will," he answered simply.
"You're sure?" she questioned, trying to sow the seed of doubt in his mind. He smirked inwardly. She wouldn't get to him. "Are you willing to wait for her?"
"Of course," he replied. "She'd wait for me."
***
Sydney walked into the kitchen to watch Francie cook dinner. She set the hockey stick against the wall. Francie eyed it, but did not ask. She already knew her answer anyway. Always silence.
"Can you love someone you don't know?" Sydney asked, startling Francie. She didn't answer right away.
"I'm sure you can. Who says you really ever know anybody?"
"I mean, you really don't know him. I know his name. His father's name. His job. His best friend's name. His favorite sport." Francie's eyes flicked to the hockey stick then back to Sydney.
"Well," Francie slowly answered. "Plenty of people have crushes on people they barely know."
"No," Sydney said, beginning to get frustrated. "I mean *love* them. I talk to him, work with him everyday. So I know him. But I don't know if he enjoys visiting his mother. I don't know if he's neat or messy. I don't know if he gets depressed, cuts himself to feel real pain. If he gets angry at his girlfriends and turns around to throw something, anything to avoid hitting them."
For once, the silence bothered Sydney. Although Francie was unsettled, it was a good sign that Sydney had spoken more than two words.
"Those aren't good things to know in a person," was all she could come up with.
Sydney bit her lip and looked away. "But I think I'd love him anyway. Despite any of that. As long as I got to know, I'd still love him."
***
"You play hockey, right?"
Vaughn didn't even look up. He almost had his plan worked out.
"You're very malnourished. Might not be able to play hockey again," she said.
He still didn't respond.
"It's been awhile. I don't think she's coming, Mr. Vaughn. She's given up on you."
He looked up at that. "She'd never lose hope. Never really lose it."
***
One month, two weeks, four days. Will visited more. The search had dwindled down to few. Weiss talked to her more often at work. He exchanged hockey stats with her, kept her up on the sport.
She came home that night, feeling alone, just like every other night. She read on the couch, ignored Will and Francie's concerned looks, and pretended to smile. Pretended the last month, two weeks, and four days had just been a rut.
She stood up to go to bed. Tomorrow morning she would get up and lie. Say it had been problems at work, with her dad, with everything else but with Michael Vaughn. She would reconstruct her broken world.
The phone rang. She picked it up and brought it to her hear, the "Hello?" already sounding more cheerful.
The pause on the other end lasted a split second, but enough to pique her interest.
"J--" it broke. "Joey's Pizza?"
The phone slipped from her hand and she dropped to the floor.
She waited for him. She did not wait in vain.
**************
The End
Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think!