Sides
Author's Note: It's kind of scary breaking into a new genre, but I've done it. Yes, I've written an Alias story. Now, I'm not an expert. Some of the details in here may not be accurate. I never fully noted what side of the bed Vaughn slept on, so you'll have to forgive me. This may not make sense now, but it will in a moment. Anyway, all reviews are incredibly welcome, being as I have no idea what I'm doing here. Please, tell me.
Disclaimer: Not mine, folks. It's all J.J. Abrams.
***
He slept on Sydney's side of the bed. Or at least, it had been. Before she had died. He had made the switch from the right side to the left immediately after they'd found the remains of her house, as well as the supposed remains of…her. The change was only a small comfort then, simply a superficial attempt to be closer to her.
In the beginning he hadn't realized what he had done. After all, sleeping wasn't his favorite activity, for it only brought on nightmares of Sydney begging for him to save her—something she never would have done in real life, he knew. He always awoke shaking and barely able to breathe, positive that her death had been his own fault. Perhaps he hadn't loved her enough, perhaps he missed something that could have ultimately saved her…no matter what the scenario, she was always dead, and he was always the cause.
It was much later when he finally noticed what he had done. It was also the first time he had been with Lauren.
***
She had never been in his house before. It was their one-month anniversary, though, and he wanted to cook for her. It was something normal people did, something he would never have done when still with the agency. She had never pressured him to bring her back to his home, but he knew that she wanted to be a bigger part of his life than she was at that point. Vaughn had never actually told her so, but he had never planned to begin dating her. Or anyone, for that matter. However, cups of coffee turned into lunches and lunches into dinners, and eventually he found himself able to enjoy her company. At first he'd felt as if he was betraying Sidney, that by moving on he was some sort of adulterer.
A few months ago he would have told her he was sorry. He would have looked over and she would be standing there peering at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she did so. He would of apologized profusely, maybe even cried. She would tell him that she loved him and that it was all right. She would forgive him for such petty things. Then they would talk about the weather or any odd fancy, until finally he would crash onto his bed and dream about a far less forgiving form of Sydney Bristow. But that was months ago.
When push came to shove, he was incredibly lonely. The Sydney he had conjured
by his side did little to ease his pain. Indeed, she made it worse. Vaughn knew
he had to be with other people, but socializing was something that scared him
to no ends. He had reluctantly agreed to his first "date" with Lauren, a path
that would eventually lead him to loving again. After all, Lauren wasn't like
anybody at the agency, a place that seemed to be haunted for him. She wasn't
like Sydney, either. She was blond and had a soft look to her, like an angel,
almost. When he'd first had that particular thought it had made him wonder if
Sydney was also an angel, and if perhaps she had sent Lauren to him.
After that the imaginary Sydney never returned.
Above all else, Lauren wasn't a field agent like Sydney had been. She did not risk her life on a regular basis, she did not have people shooting at her, she not have any personal enemies.
Vaughn couldn't stand the though of losing anybody somebody else to death, of death in general, really. It was a cruel thing. It stole happiness and love. It had left him soulless and unable to function like a normal human being. Death had turned his heart to a withered shell, one that Lauren was ever so slowly revitalizing.
The night he made her dinner they had both had many a glass of wine. Hours passed and eventually they began to kiss. The feel of her skin was something he had never intended to discover, but as he ran his hands up her bare arms he found himself intoxicated with the sensation of human touch. He had not felt connected to the world in over a year; Lauren was like the weight tying him back to the ground.
"We don't have to do this," she had managed to gasp out. "We can wait."
"No. I want this," he responded. He had meant it.
The next morning Vaught had woken up slowly. His sleep had been peaceful for the first time in what felt like a century. He had missed being dreamless. He put out his arm to wrap around the woman next to him, but air greeted his searching limb. He cracked an eyelid to find his arm waving loosely off the bed, disorienting him completely. He turned and found Lauren on the other side of him, which was incredibly surprising.
After all, he had expected Sydney. He had expected to be on the right side of the bed with Sydney on the left.
But Sydney was dead.
Vaughn reached out a hand and ran it over Lauren's sleeping figure. She was alive and well. She was real.
Vaughn learned to love Lauren. He learned to make love to her without thinking of Sydney. He did not learn, however, how to go back to the right side of the bed. He did not learn how to forget.