A/N: I know, I know. I am a sucker for Vaughn POV one shots around the time of The Telling (I think that I've written three previously), but I just couldn't help myself. There is so much juicy inspiration for a writer. A hurt and wounded Vaughn- who could resist. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.
Summary: The Telling (2.22) exploration. We all have regrets, but just how many? A reflection on all things unsaid is bound to bring aboutheartache. Vaughn deals, after Sydney's death. One shot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Alias.
I Never Told Her…
Matt absentmindedly wiped the glass in his hand, trying not to stare openly at the man sitting at the end of the bar. He was raising Matt's interest for two reasons. The first being it was still afternoon, and he was the only customer in the bar. The second being that he didn't look like the usual type that this place attracted. Clean cut, in a suit. He looked as if he belonged behind a desk, wheeling and dealing in big business, not sitting in a dim bar, alone, nursing drink after drink.
As he watched the guy drain his glass, Matt instinctively poured another one and placed it in front of him.
He looked up surprised, exhaustion written all over his features.
"On the house," Matt said. "You look as if you need it."
The guy rubbed his chin, snorting softly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Let's just say that when a guy like you shows up at a place like this, he is obviously in dire need of a drink."
"Just a bit," he muttered, and then offered Matt his hand. "Michael."
Matt accepted his firm handshake. "Matt," he said. "So Michael, why are you here and not at work like nearly every other Joe Blow in this city?"
"I, uh, recently left my job."
"Ah," Matt sighed knowingly. He'd seen this many a time. "Hence the need for a drink?"
Michael did not reply straightaway, instead taking a mouthful of drink. "Actually," he wiped his mouth, "I just came from a funeral."
"Oh." Matt paused. "Was it somebody close?"
Michael nodded, his face contorting slightly. "Close would be an understatement…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "This is so unbelievably clichéd."
Matt let out a soft laugh. "The whole bartender confession thing?"
Michael nodded. "Yeah," he said, raising his glass to his lips. "You get it a lot?"
Matt shrugged. "A little. With alcohol you tend to get loose tongues. People can say what they wish they could say in an everyday situation."
Michael blanched slightly. "What they wish they could say," he muttered. "Or what they wished they had said."
"You're sounding a little regretful there," Matt commented, pouring himself a drink. He wasn't supposed to be drinking on the job, but nobody else was there and he didn't see this conversation ending any time soon.
Michael was silent for a few moments, staring into his drink, as if pondering what to say. "There were so many things I never told her," he finally spoke up. "So many things left unsaid."
"Like what?" Matt asked, carefully.
"I never told her that one ofmy favourite things about her was how she could be so strong yet so vulnerable at the same time. You would not have believed it, what she was capable of. She was amazing, even when she was at her lowest."
Michael paused, running a hand through his already messed up hair.
"I never told her that what first attracted me to her was the way she spoke, the way that she was so perceptive. When we first met, I said something that she didn't agree with, and boy did she let me know. She could see right through me…Sure, she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman I had ever met, but it was the way she didn't mince words that was so appealing. She said what was on her mind and you could hide nothing from her."
"Nothing?" Matt asked, sounding a little horrified at the thought.
Michael gave a nostalgic smile. "Nothing." He drew in a deep breath. "She used to get so much pleasure out of so many little things. I never told her how much I enjoyed watching her smile at the Zambonie…"
"Zambonie?"
"Yeah, it was her favourite part of going to the hockey…second favourite," he added, rubbing his forehead with one hand and swallowing hard.
Matt shrugged. "Well, I can understand that. Zambonie is pretty cool."
Michael coughed loudly and Matt suspected it was not because he had a dry throat.
"She, uh, she used to call me by my last name. From the time that we were just friends, since before….and she kept it up. I used to get a real kick out of it. I liked that she still called me Vaughn. It, somehow, showed that our relationship hadn't changed. It had only gotten stronger. But, I never told her that." He took a mouthful of his drink, draining the glass.
Matt did not speak, his silence encouraging Michael to continue.
"I never told her that her mere presence was all I needed to call a day perfect. I never told her how funny she was. How she could always make me laugh, and how much I appreciated her sharp sense of humour. I never told her that she was always the last thought on my mind before I fell asleep at night, and that she was always the first thing in my head when I woke in the morning," Michael continued, his voice growing hoarse. "I never told her that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That without her there would be no use in going on. I never told her that she was my world."
"Michael," Matt said, his voice quiet. "I'm sure that she knew."
Michael shook his head. "I'm not sure that she did. I never-" his voice cracked. "I never told her that I loved her, and now I never can. She's gone, forever."
Matt exhaled deeply. There was nothing that he could say to that. And so he did the only thing that he could think of and topped up Michael's drink.
He looked as if he really needed it.