Author: Amy
Title: Perfection In A Mess
Disclaimers: I don't own Alias or any of the characters. The title comes from the song "Sparkle" by Rubyhorse, and the lyrics used in the story are from "LA" by Weekend Excursion.
You should smile
I hear it's nice in L.A.
If I can't smile
I still couldn't ask you to stay
Whenever there's a song I know you're with me
Taking off
Driving through all of the rain
Leave behind
Any suggestion of pain
Forget about the things that made you empty
The rain falling outside the dirt-smudged window of Vaughn's new home reminded him of far too many things. First and foremost, it reminded him of Sydney. And not just Sydney herself, but all the little moments he spent with her – cuddling in bed during storms, pulling her soaking wet form into his arms after she'd been out in the downpour…even the insignificant moments, like sharing his jacket with her as they ran from the car into a restaurant one night. Those intimate memories were the ones that nearly drove him over the edge when she died, but now they were the ones keeping him alive. He needed to be with this woman, no matter the cost, and he needed her and their baby to be safe. So for now he was confined to a world of bland eggshell-white walls, a worn black sofa, and a thousand memories of home.
How cruel life could be sometimes. How cruel their lives, specifically. He felt that sick churning in his stomach, that dead weight of dread telling him something was wrong the minute he stepped out of the car, leaving behind thoughts of baby names in exchange for the harsh reality of his twisted family legacy. He knew something awful was about to happen, but he still didn't expect the flurry of bullets that nearly took him from this world before he even got the chance to meet his new baby, to hold Sydney's hand in the delivery room, to cradle the baby in his arms and swear his love forever. He almost missed everything, but he wasn't the only one. Sydney would lose another fiancé, be forced to endure the life of a single parent, and forfeit all hope of normalcy. His baby would end up with only one parent – the one thing that scared him most in this world.
This exile was the only solution, and that hurt more than anything else. Maybe if he just accepted the fact that his father was not the man he believed him to be, maybe if he abandoned this quest for the truth that only embroiled him in lies, maybe if he just closed this chapter of his past as soon as he realised the only future he wanted was with Sydney he wouldn't be living for visits of only a few hours every few months to get him through. The second she told him she was pregnant his life took a drastic shift, and there was never any doubt in his mind he would sacrifice his fatherly rights to bear witness to the coming months in order to keep Sydney and the baby safe. But all the same, he knew this mess was his own making, and he didn't know if he could ever forgive himself.
Sydney did. Sydney forgave him the moment he explained himself. Maybe she'd lost too much, maybe she'd been through too much hell in her life to let go of the one thing she wanted, even if holding on meant accepting more pain and more secrets. Holding her hand, knowing that he was about to enter induced cardiac arrest was the worst feeling he could imagine. The fear overwhelmed him, taunting him, reminding him that he could still die. Even more, the fear flowing through their intertwined fingers tore him up inside, telling him over and over again that she might not survive losing him. He knew he had to fight to return to her, but as his eyes fluttered closed he could only pray he was strong enough to endure the strain on his already weak and wounded body. His own selfish heart wanted her there with him holding his hand and promising to be there when he woke again, but he wished he could find the strength to make her leave, to spare her from seeing him like that. He'd seen her flat line once, and even though the rational part of his mind assured him the defibrillator could quickly bring her back, the agonising seconds between the last beat of her heart and the next breath she drew very nearly killed him with grief. No amount of faith in modern medicine could help him when the long beep signalled her arrest, and no amount of faith in her father's schemes would help her believe everything would be okay in the end.
The first painful gasp when function returned to his body made his head spin and his vision blur, the sudden urge to breathe in all the oxygen in the room sending panic through his veins. But then his frantic eyes found her anxious face, and she smiled for the first time since they left for Santa Barbara. She immediately calmed him, squeezing his hand and running her fingers through his hair, promising him everything was fine, that he did it. And then he let her cry to exorcise her own doubts and fears, whispering in her ear quiet reassurances until she fell asleep with her head draped across the hospital bed.
Her rest was brief, interrupted by Jack's grim appearance at the door informing them it was time to go. He couldn't be sure, but he thought perhaps he picked up a hint of respect in Jack's eyes as Sydney carefully and gently eased him out of the bed. Every single part of his body hurt, his muscles quaking and his face contorting in agony, but the only thing he could think about was the separation about to occur. He saw the tears in her eyes and knew she was thinking the same thing, so he managed to squeeze her hand and offer her the smallest of smiles.
When they finally reached the car, she opened the door and helped him lay down on the back seat. She sat by his head and ran her fingers through his hair again, memorising his face the same way he memorised hers. Then she kissed him one more time, and he inhaled every sensation.
"We're going to be okay," he whispered, his voice too raspy to offer more.
"I know," she nodded bravely.
"Please don't be scared," he begged her. "You're not going to lose me. I promise we'll-"
"Shh," she quieted him. "It's okay. Just rest. I want you to be better the next time I see you."
He didn't ask when that would be, not wanting to let her think about every painful detail right now. "I love you, Syd. Always," he swore, groping for her hand so he could squeeze it one last time before driving off into the night and leaving her behind.
"I love you, too. I'll see you..."
He nodded and pulled her to him for a parting kiss. "Smile, Syd," he begged her. She quietly agreed, and then he watched her close the door and step aside as the driver began the expansive stretch of miles separating them for months.
Recuperating from his injuries took up most of his time over the months that followed, but healing didn't keep his mind off of her, didn't make it any easier to stay in the confines of this safe house and wonder what she was doing, if she was okay, if she was smiling like she promised. Any minute now relief would come to him through the rain, and he was determined to jump off this couch and run to her and hold her so tightly she could never doubt anything again. It might be a little painful physically, but touching her again was the only thing that could mend the emotional scars.
Finally a pair of headlights danced across the shadows of the darkened living room, and the soft purr of an engine floated over the sound of raindrops pelting the roof and windows. The lights shut off and a door slammed, and within seconds he was holding her again. They fumbled awkwardly at first, clinging to one another and trying simultaneously to close the front door and turn on the overhead lamp, laughing and kissing and crying the entire time. He kept finding a new part of her lips and face to kiss, a part he'd missed, a part he just wanted to kiss over and over to make up for the long months without any contact at all. Her hands were all over him, gentle and mindful of his wounds but passionate nonetheless. The maelstrom of emotions churned wildly as her fingers crept beneath his shirt, fluttering across his back, moving to his chest, infusing warmth back into his frozen body. All the while his hands explored every inch of her new form, amazed by the curves not present the last time they did this, filled with joy as he traced the bulge on her once flat stomach. He felt her laughing against him, but he couldn't stop, too overwhelmed with the physical evidence of his previously abstract child. He finally stopped when she sighed against his mouth, leaning heavily against him as though she'd been standing upright without anywhere to rest for four long months.
Pulling back just enough to see her face, he gazed at her and drank in the sight, and then pressed his forehead to hers. "You're not smiling," he whispered.
"Yes, I am," she countered.
"God, I've missed you," he breathed.
At this she burst into sobs, wrapping her arms back around her despite the awkward positioning. He couldn't stop from weeping himself, bitter, angry tears rolling down his cheeks at the injustice of everything in this world. He carefully stepped backwards, manoeuvering their joined bodies down the hallway to the small bedroom he now inhabited every night. She kicked off her shoes and followed him into the bed, twisting herself around until they were spooned up against one another, his tears falling on her shoulders and hers to the light blue sheets. "It smells like you," she murmured when the tears finally stopped long enough to speak.
"Well, I hope you don't mind, because I wasn't planning on having laundry day until tomorrow," he quipped.
She giggled, and that sound alone made him impossibly happy. "I like it," she assured him. "Home doesn't smell like you anymore. I wake up expecting you to be right next to me, but your place is always cold."
He didn't know what to say to that. Should he tell her how badly he wanted to be there? Should he confess that he woke up every morning expecting to find himself at home with her again? Would it just hurt her even more if he cried about every little thing he missed so much? Holding her hand, kissing that spot on the side of her head, pouring her coffee, tossing his dirty clothes in with hers...
She solved his dilemma and continued to speak. "I go to the doctor and they ask about the dad, if he's excited about the baby, and I always have to tell him that he was, that he was so shocked but so happy when I told him. And then I have to tell him he's gone, that he'll never be there to see his baby."
"But I will, Syd," he promised. "I'm going to be there."
"But that doesn't change it, Vaughn," she shook her head. "Every single day I have to pretend you're dead, and it's wearing me out. I can't do it anymore. I thought I could, but I can't."
"I wish I could make it easier," he whispered. "I would do anything to be with you, but I will not put either of you in danger. Even this is too much."
"No!" she protested immediately, flipping over to face him. "Please, don't take this away from me. Seeing you again is the only thing that makes it bearable."
"Shh," he soothed. "I need you, too. We just have to be careful. I'm not going to take this away; it would kill me, Syd."
"Don't say that," she whispered, shaking her head vehemently. "I face your death every day. I don't want to think about it now."
He nodded and pulled her back into his embrace, planting his lips on her forehead and holding her, knowing the next few hours would have to last them another two or three months.
Seeing home
Imagining you're still here
Waking up
Understanding clear
Walking out the door without an ending
When they finally found the strength and courage to break the contact, they crawled out of bed and wandered to the kitchen to make dinner together. They vowed long ago to make these visits as normal as possible, to forget about the pain of their lives for a few hours and just live for the joy of the moment. They needed these hours to remind them what they were fighting for, why they couldn't let go of the fantasy. The despair might swallow them whole if they remained fixated on the tragedy of it all the entire night. So instead they made pasta and salad, talking about baby names and buying a house, silently agreeing to assume this would all end soon. They planned the theme of the nursery, argued over the sex of the baby, imagined how their family and friends would feel about this new little person. And when they exhausted that topic, they moved on to the wedding. She described her perfect dress, the one she'd dreamed of since childhood, and brainstormed all the boutiques in Los Angeles where she might look for that perfect dress. He tossed out ideas for locations, and they both agreed the wedding should be on the beach just like they talked about on the way to Santa Barbara. Except now they would invite absolutely everyone they knew. No more secrets, no more hiding.
Over dinner they planned honeymoons, dreaming up beautiful vacation spots where they could celebrate the wedding that had been far too long in coming. This of course led to a discussion of baby-sitters to care for their son or daughter while they spent a week or two lounging around a tropical island or a romantic European city. They washed the dishes and talked about their friends, laughing as Sydney recounted the antics at the office. He didn't have as much to tell her, so he just listened to her stories and imagined himself there to see it all.
After the kitchen was spotless and dishes piled back in the cabinets, Vaughn took her by the hand and tugged her into the living room, pulling her down on the black sofa with him to watch an old movie playing on his small television. If not for the time constraint weighing upon them, they bought might have fallen asleep there together, just like they used to do at home on Friday and Saturday nights when work didn't interfere.
Almost three hours had passed before Sydney brought them back to reality. In no more than an hour, she needed to return to the car and drive back into the rain, away from him and the sanctuary they found in one another. The safe house had actually felt like a home for a few hours, but in less than sixty minutes, it would turn back into an unfeeling shelter, temporary and forgettable.
"I don't want this to end," she whispered.
"It's not going to," he promised. "It doesn't end when you walk out that door. There's no ending, Sydney. We haven't even gotten to the beginning yet."
"Yeah?" she asked, smiling a little.
"Yeah," he grinned. "We're going to get married and have a baby. We're going to be a family. Please trust me on that."
"I do," she nodded, returning her head to his chest. "I worry about you here, though," she admitted.
"Me?" he asked in surprise.
"Yeah. It's horrible being at home without you, but it must be so much worse here."
"Nah, not really," he shrugged, quite obviously lying through his teeth.
"So you don't miss me?" she challenged playfully.
"I didn't say that," he laughed. "To be honest, yes, it is hell. But it's worth it. And I don't want you to worry, okay? I'm safe here, and all I have to do is think about you and the baby, and then I remember why we're doing this."
"I just don't know how to do this," she sighed.
"Do what?" he prodded gently.
"I don't know how to balance anything. How can I be so happy and so sad at the same time? I feel horrible being excited about the baby when you're not there to share in it, and I always have to play the role of the grieving fiancee. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend you're dead when I know you're safe and waiting for me?"
"No," he shook his head. "When everyone thought you were dead I did too."
"Oh God, Vaughn, I'm sorry," she apologised, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. "I didn't even think-"
"Don't," he cut her off. "I didn't say that to make you feel bad. I was very obviously a prime example of what not to do when you're mourning, so I think as long as you don't sit around talking to me and get tricked by some bastard, you'll be just fine."
She couldn't help laughing at this, and he chuckled a little, too. It felt good to actually laugh about the absurdity of their lives. What were the chances of two people enduring each other's supposed deaths? There was a time he thought they would never move past his sins during the two years she was missing, but now they were together and expecting a baby, so it felt right to make light of one more struggle they overcame.
"So you'll be upset if I start seeing someone else?" she asked, feigning a little guilt. "Because there's sort of-"
"You're such a little brat," he cut her off, taking a playful swipe at her arm. "And for the record...yes. You're mine."
"Possessive much, Mr. Vaughn?" she teased.
"Definitely."
She pulled him into a kiss, but he could practically taste the sense of sadness pouring out of her as their time together came to its inevitable end. He deepened the kiss, intending to make the memory last for the next few months, and followed it up with several sweet pecks on her cheek. Then finally, he kissed her stomach. "Syd," he began, suddenly feeling the need to clarify a few things.
"Don't worry," she shook her head. "You're going to be there."
"But if I'm not," he tried to reason.
"He or she will know," she promised. "And then we'll both be waiting for you to come back."
"I love you," he declared firmly, amazed by her determination and strength. He could never express just how grateful he was she forgave him and allowed him to keep his place in her life and that of their baby.
"I love you, too," she whispered, the tears springing again as the goodbyes lingered.
"You can be happy, Syd," he tried to assure her. "I want you to be happy, and I would want that even if I was dead. So don't ever feel bad for being excited or having fun with this. You have every right to celebrate, okay?"
"Okay," she nodded.
The final minute ticked by, and he reluctantly stood, knowing they had to part now or risk losing their resolve. He walked her quietly to the door, standing inside as she stepped out into the rain again. He couldn't step even an inch beyond his front door, or he might beg her to stay. And he would rather be miserable and lonely without her than take a chance on losing either of them forever. As much as he wanted to pull her inside and plead with her to run away with him, he had to see this through until they could claim the life they deserved.
Just before taking those final steps to her car, she dashed back up the porch stairs and embraced him, kissing him passionately one final time. "I love you, Vaughn. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Syd. But I need you to do something for me."
"Anything," she promised quickly.
"Smile," he ordered. "Go home and be happy. I'll see you soon."
It's alright
To go on
It's alright
I'll see you someday
It's alright
To go on
We'll meet again
It's alright
To go on
And I'll miss you
It's alright
To go on
She nodded, tears running down her cheeks even as she offered him the most brilliant smile she could muster. And then she hurried back down the stairs to her car, jumping inside and pulling away from the safe house before she ran inside again and tried to hide with him forever. He quickly stepped inside, not wanting the finality of watching her car disappear from sight, and closed the door.
The safe house smelled like her now. Her scent lingered everywhere, and he decided he might push laundry day back a day or two. He could still feel her presence lingering here, just as it did during those awful two years he thought she was dead, so he shut off all the lights and retreated to his bedroom. The rain still poured against his windows, and once more he thought of her. You're going to be alright, he told himself. We're all going to be alright.
For the first time in four months, he believed it. He didn't have any other choice.
I should smile
I'll see you in LA.