Five Thousand Oceans
By GeoGirl
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Alias.
Distribution: SD-1, Cover Me, Fanfiction.net and anyone else who asks first.
A/N: This is for the SD-1 May challenge. Elements required are baseball, flowers and a famous quote from a movie.
The rain tapped steadily on the windows and the fire in the fireplace crackled in a syncopated rhythm. All of the lights were off and only the glow of the fire illuminated the figures on the couch.
Michael's head rested gently in Sydney's lap, her fingers absently running through his hair. They listened to the rain falling outside, relaxing after a long stressful week. Her fingers stopped and she leaned down to kiss his forehead, but she hesitated.
"Tell me about that day" she whispered into his hair. And he knew exactly the day she was asking about, the day they had yet to talk about. The day that first changed his life.
***
"Ok, Mikey, you're on deck. We need two runs to win the game and Danny is already on second base. Just a good hit, Mikey, a good hit." The coach patted me on the back and gently pushed me toward the batting circle. I swung the bat in the on deck circle and stared up at the stands.
Mom and Dad aren't here, why not? Dad's probably working late, again. But Mom and Amelia weren't here either. They always come. Maybe Amelia's sick.
I strode up to the batter box and set my feet like Dad taught me, and stared at the pitcher. I kept my eye on the ball and waited for a good pitch.
Ball one, high and outside.
Ball two, low.
Strike one flew by and I swung after the ball connected with the catcher's glove.
The count was now 2 and 1, bottom of the ninth, with two outs and down by one.
The Hornets are counting on me. Eye on the ball and look for a good one.
Foul ball on the third base side, strike two.
I've gotta get a hit. I've gotta get a hit.
Strike three.
What. What happened?
The teams shuffled through the standard high five and handshake line, and I felt awful.
"Good game, good game."
Good game, no way. I lost the game. I screwed up and lost the game. Are we going for ice cream? Where are Mom and Amelia?
The coach took us for ice cream at Strickland's after the game as customary. I got my dipped, vanilla cone and sat at the picnic table with Chris and Joseph. They tried to cheer me up, but I kept berating myself for striking out and wondered where Mom and Amelia were.
Chris, Joseph and I rode our bikes home from the ice cream stand, first dropping Chris off at his house on Fairmont St. Then we rode on to Uhler Drive and Joseph's house. Joseph's mom was waiting outside for us and she looked as though she was crying. She hugged me and sent me home right away instead of inviting me in for dinner.
It was just three blocks down Uhler Drive, and then a right onto Hillcrest Drive. One-story houses lined both sides of the road, with crisp, newly mowed lawns and flowers of every hue. I remember the air smelled clean and fresh and full of sunshine. I rode two more blocks to Madison Ave., my street. When I turned the corner onto Madison, I saw a couple of big, black cars in the driveway, and Amelia's stroller in the middle of the front yard. Flats of begonias and pansies and gardening tools were strewn across the flowerbed and the flowers were beginning to wilt in the heat and sunshine.
Something's wrong. Mom would never leave the stroller in the front yard. Whose cars are those?
I rode my bike up the driveway, next to the black cars with the tinted windows, and set the bike next to the garage door. The car was pulled up so close, that I couldn't reach the handle to open the door and put my bike inside the garage. I would have to do that later when the cars were gone.
"Mom, Amelia, where were you? Why didn't you come to my game?" I asked as I walked in the front door. Two men in black suits stood up and I saw mom crying on the couch, just beyond the men.
"Ah Michael, my precious boy. Sit, sit." Mom patted the seat next to her and tears streamed down her face. She held my hand and looked me deeply in the eyes.
"Michael, your father was killed today…in the line of duty…for the United States. He is a hero, Michael, and has gone to heaven."
"What? No! Dad isn't dead, he isn't dead. No! Where is he? I want to see Dad." Mom's arms circled me, holding me tightly.
I turned and started yelling at the two men.
"Who are you? What did you do to my Dad?" I tried to lunge at them, but Mom held me back.
"Son, we are so sorry about your Father. I am Mr. Devlin, and this is Mr. Turner; we worked with your dad. As your mother said, he was killed today doing his job to protect the United States. He is a hero."
"I don't care about the United States, I just want my Dad back. Please bring my dad back. Please!" My screams turned to sobs, and I collapsed into Mom's arms.
"Please Mrs. Vaughn, if there is any way we can help, please call us. The State Department will assist you in making all the arrangements. Please call Ms. Trunko whenever you can. She will assist you." Agent Devlin handed her a business card and they discretely let themselves out of the house as Mom and I cried in each other's arms.
Amelia started crying and Mom went to her bedroom to comfort her. She was only two and didn't understand what was going on, except that we all were sad. I curled up on the couch, and cried myself to sleep.
When I woke up, it was dark out and Mom was sitting in the rocking chair watching me, with a sleeping Amelia in her arms. It took me a moment to remember what had happened, and I started crying again.
Mom began to whisper as she gently rocked Amelia, "Michael, your father loved his job, and he loved the United States so much, almost as much as he loved us."
"He loved his job more than us, didn't he? Or he wouldn't have got killed and left us."
"No, you know that is not true, Michael. Every morning he would get up, and go to work knowing that he was helping protect us and everyone else. His job made him happy. He wanted to help make the world safer for you and Amelia to grow up in."
"But why did he leave us? Didn't he know his job was dangerous? Didn't he know we would miss him?"
"We will all miss him so much, but know that he will always be with us and he will always protect us from heaven."
"How far is heaven Mom?" I asked, as tears streamed down my face.
"It is like crossing five thousand oceans, my darling."
"But that's too far, how can he come back to us?"
"We cannot go there and he can never come back to us, but he will always be with us in our hearts and in our memories." She got up out of the rocking chair, and put Amelia on the loveseat. Mom sat on the couch next to me, and pulled me onto her lap and started murmuring in French to me. She kept calling me her little man, and how I reminded her of Dad.
"Every time I look at you and Amelia, I will see your father. You have his eyes, and are so like him in many ways. Amelia has his smile and his laugh. I will miss him every day, and my heart will break every day that he is not with us. But I have a little bit of him in you and your sister, and for that I am thankful." She stroked his back, and kissed the top of his head.
"Mom, how will you live without Dad? How will we all live without him?"
"Well, I'm going to get out of bed every morning... breath in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breath in and out... and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while. And you will do the same, and we will help each other and Amelia get through each day, one by one, together." And we cried into the night.
***
Sydney leaned down, and kissed the top of his head again, and he buried his moist eyes into her stomach. He was rewarded with a soft poke to the forehead. He sat up and looked her deeply in the eyes, grasping her hands with intense urgency.
"Do you know how far I would go to protect the two of you?" He placed a hand on her gently swollen stomach. Sydney shook her head as tears streamed down her face, and nodded.
"Five thousand oceans and back" and he leaned in to kiss her.
The End
Quote: "Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breath in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breath in and out... and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while." From Sleepless in Seattle