Michael
She walks down the corridor, a hundred questions running through her mind, a
thousand different answers plaguing her. And only one man who can give her the
answers.
So she walking quickly- she can tell because the whip of the air around her is
strong enough to let her know that she's nearly running- and then she bumps
into him. There's that awkward pause that has now become normal between them.
The slight hesitation where neither knows what exactly to do because of the
sudden hit of memories- too many to count- assailing each of them.
"I'm not trying to play you."
"You... you just threw your beeper into the pacific."
She looked at him, his simple statement bringing a humor that was so simple
that it was hilarious.
Broke into a small smile.
"Hey."
She starts, wrenching free from the eyes she knows so well, the voice she's
memorized, the face that's ingrained within her memory. "Hi, Michael. Do
you know where my father is?"
His eyebrows scrunch a little and she sees the wrinkles start to form in his
forehead.
She furrows her brow in return. "Are you okay?"
"Huh? Yeah... yeah... it's just... you called me Michael. You never call
me Michael."
"Vaughn?"
"Why don't you ever call me Michael?"
"I do sometimes... Vaughn?"
She bites her lip slightly, just enough to remind her of where she is. Of who
she is.
And that description no longer includes Michael Vaughn's girlfriend.
"I just did. Vaughn's not exactly appropriate anymore."
He doesn't get it. She sees the confusion in his eyes. He doesn't understand
why it's inappropriate. Because he's the one who's married, the one who found
someone else. And she's the one left behind, trying to pick up the pieces of
her life and start a new one. Without hurting anybody else.
Except maybe herself.
"Sydney... we haven't changed. We're still the same people."
lyingthroughyourteeth
She wants to laugh. "Why does it matter?"
"Because..." he looks lost, "because I don't want you to think
that you're alone. I don't want you to think that just because things... have
changed, that I'm not here for you anymore."
"Michael... I don't need you to be anywhere for me. I can take care of
myself."
He looks so unsure of himself, knows only too well that he has a wife, knows
the extent of which Sydney can take care of herself... doesn't know enough to
be anything but Sydney's handler. Her confidante. "Sydney... you're one of
the strongest people I know. But everybody has to have someone."
"That doesn't mean that you have to be that someone for me. You
have other responsibilities now. Other people that need you to be there and
have a right to want you there. Vaughn was someone from two years ago. Vaughn
was someone who got left behind. And I'm not blaming you. But I can't afford to
go through every day reminding myself of what I don't have anymore."
This is too hard. The words are too much, too painful to say, too strong to
keep inside. "I know that it's not your fault. But it's not fair to either
one of us for me to be stuck in a place in time that doesn't exist anymore. I
can't need you anymore. I can't call you or talk to you whenever I have
a problem-"
"-yes you can-"
"-no I can't. Don't you get it Michael? It's not just about us
anymore. You're not the same person as you were and you don't have the same
situations regarding your life."
"Sydney... it's just a name."
She closes her eyes. "Then why do you care so much?"
"Because you're trying to be careful around me. I don't need you to
be careful around me."
A rush of pain bordering anger enters her body with her next breath.
"Michael, I'm not trying to be careful for your sake. I'm doing it for mine.
Don't put me on a pedestal, Michael. Don't dehumanize me or my emotions. I
don't want to feel sorry for myself but it's obvious that I can't go on
pretending like nothing's changed between us. You might want the same
relationship. You might want to keep on comforting and saving and protecting me
because that's your character. But it's not mine to take it from you.
"I'm not as strong as you think I am. In fact, I'm the weakest
person in the world right now. I have almost nothing... and all I'm doing is
trying to keep a semblance of order in what's left of my life. And I'm sorry if
that makes you feel guilty or estranged or... I don't know. But you don't have
to be.
"You don't have to be anything for me." She lets out what's left of
her breath. Looks him in his wounded eyes. And closes her own. And speaks
again, resignedly. "Do you know where my father is?"
