Disclaimer: JJ et al own Alias, I'm nothing but a humble admirer.
This is for the May challenge at SD-1. The elements were flowers, a baseball game, and a famous movie quote.
Summary: After years of watching Vaughn's ritual, an outsider is curious. What he learns changes the way he looks at love.
I am a cemetery caretaker. I guess you probably haven't met very many of those before, but believe me it can be the most interesting job. Seeing people at their worst allows you to be a silent observer of their true character. Sometimes what you see is so ugly you want to go home and take a bath, and at other times, you can be swept away by the power of love.
I remember two men in particular. Every year for seven years they've met at the same grave. For the first few years, I didn't pay much attention, but then I started noticing the little quirks about them. Finally, after three years, I had to satisfy my curiosity. On the day they came, I made sure I was trimming the shrubs near them and I listened in.
The older man arrived first, as was the custom. I waited patiently for the other man to show up, but when a half hour had passed, I began to wonder if something was wrong. However, a moment later, I heard a car door slam and I glanced toward the parking lot to see him coming toward us almost at a run. "You're late," his companion said, not even sparing him a glance.
"Yeah, I know. Today was the annual company picnic," he replied with a grimace.
The wrinkles on the older man's forehead smoothed out a little in understanding. "Kendall was the umpire again?"
"You'd think that after 15 years he'd realize that he knows nothing about baseball. or at least he'd try to learn, if he's determined to umpire the game. Instead he drags everyone through that pitiful excuse for a game that ends up taking twice as long as it should while we all argue over calls."
"Well you know what they say Mr. Vaughn," he said with the slightest of smiles. Vaughn. now I had a name to go with one of the faces. "That which does not kill us, makes us stronger." The instant the words were out of his mouth, I could tell he wanted to take them back. It hadn't been his intent to rub salt in an already raw wound.
Vaughn sobered quickly, the statement reminding him that this was not just a park, it was a cemetery. "Do you think it was worth it?" he asked quietly.
From the way his companion sighed, I knew this was something of a ritual for them. "Even though it is cliché, it really is better to have loved and lost, Michael. That being said, hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable," he replied quietly. His voice quivered ever so slightly on the last words, the only outward sign of his struggle against his hidden emotions.
Overcome by his own sorrow he simply nodded, staring at the tombstone. A moment later, without shifting his gaze, he whispered, "Jack. if you don't mind. I want to be alone." Jack, as I could now call him, placed his hand on the younger man's back for a moment, silently offering his support before leaving.
I continued to trim imaginary pieces off the shrubbery while Michael stood in silence. For a moment I wondered if that was all I would learn today, but then my patience was rewarded. Left alone with his thoughts, Vaughn began to talk. It was always this way, I had noticed. I'm not sure, but I think sometimes he reminisced on the things they had shared, or maybe he caught her up on what was going on with everyone they had known, allowing himself to imagine for one brief moment that she was merely away on a trip, although he knew it was pretense. And sometimes, like this time, he just shared his thoughts, his struggle to live without her.
When he finally began to speak, the pain in his voice nearly brought tears to my eyes. "Sydney. Ah Syd, why do I always talk as if you can hear me? I wish you could, it hurts so much not having you here. I'd always heard that amputees experience phantom pains, where their brain tells them their missing part is hurting, even though it doesn't exist anymore. I'd always heard it, but I never understood it. until you left. I come home from a long day at work and I want to tell you about it, but you aren't there. I see something that I know would make you happy, and I turn to your glorious smile, but I see only empty walls or barren space. I reach out for you in the night and come up empty handed. A part of me is missing. and I can only be thankful that my pain has saved you the anguish of experiencing this for yourself."
I glanced down at my useless right arm. I could understand exactly what he was talking about. One day in my former career as a chef I had spilled hot oil on my arm. The burns had been bad, but I hadn't wanted to go to the doctor. By the time I finally gave in, it was too late-they had to take my arm from the elbow down. The phantom pains still bothered me. But Michael was still talking, and I didn't want to miss any of it.
"It seems so unfair that you would come home time after time without being hurt, and then get killed in a hit and run accident just blocks from our house. We always used to talk about not letting our work bring us down to the level of those we fought, but it becomes so much harder when you are fighting yourself, when you struggle against the loneliness that grows inside you. But I am determined to win. Nothing can hurt us now. What we have can't be destroyed. That's our victory. our victory over the dark."
The strength behind those words was made all the more incredible by the weakness it was struggling to overcome. This was a man who had seen the worst the world had to offer and was able to look at it from the other side untouched, yet the loss of this woman had driven him almost to his knees.
Slowly, he crouched down until the grave marker was at eye level. He traced over the inscription, the words he had probably chosen himself. He stayed like that for a moment, lost in thought, then he stood and walked away.
After he was gone, I walked around to the front of the tombstone to see if I could learn anything about this woman who had so affected two men. A bouquet of carnations rested on the ground, vibrant against the grey marble of the marker. Inscribed upon it were these words: "Sydney Bristow Vaughn: I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks when she loved me."
[b]Movie Quotes[/b] (Yes, that's plural. I went looking for quotes after I knew the story I was going to tell. and well, they all jumped out at me!)
"That which does not kill us, makes us stronger".....(Steel Magnolias) "Hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable" .......(Wizard of Oz) "I want to be alone." -Greta Garbo (Grand Hotel) "Nothing can hurt us now. What we have can't be destroyed. That's our victory... our victory over the dark." --Bette Davis. (Dark Victory) "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me." --Humphrey Bogart. (In a Lonely Place)
This is for the May challenge at SD-1. The elements were flowers, a baseball game, and a famous movie quote.
Summary: After years of watching Vaughn's ritual, an outsider is curious. What he learns changes the way he looks at love.
I am a cemetery caretaker. I guess you probably haven't met very many of those before, but believe me it can be the most interesting job. Seeing people at their worst allows you to be a silent observer of their true character. Sometimes what you see is so ugly you want to go home and take a bath, and at other times, you can be swept away by the power of love.
I remember two men in particular. Every year for seven years they've met at the same grave. For the first few years, I didn't pay much attention, but then I started noticing the little quirks about them. Finally, after three years, I had to satisfy my curiosity. On the day they came, I made sure I was trimming the shrubs near them and I listened in.
The older man arrived first, as was the custom. I waited patiently for the other man to show up, but when a half hour had passed, I began to wonder if something was wrong. However, a moment later, I heard a car door slam and I glanced toward the parking lot to see him coming toward us almost at a run. "You're late," his companion said, not even sparing him a glance.
"Yeah, I know. Today was the annual company picnic," he replied with a grimace.
The wrinkles on the older man's forehead smoothed out a little in understanding. "Kendall was the umpire again?"
"You'd think that after 15 years he'd realize that he knows nothing about baseball. or at least he'd try to learn, if he's determined to umpire the game. Instead he drags everyone through that pitiful excuse for a game that ends up taking twice as long as it should while we all argue over calls."
"Well you know what they say Mr. Vaughn," he said with the slightest of smiles. Vaughn. now I had a name to go with one of the faces. "That which does not kill us, makes us stronger." The instant the words were out of his mouth, I could tell he wanted to take them back. It hadn't been his intent to rub salt in an already raw wound.
Vaughn sobered quickly, the statement reminding him that this was not just a park, it was a cemetery. "Do you think it was worth it?" he asked quietly.
From the way his companion sighed, I knew this was something of a ritual for them. "Even though it is cliché, it really is better to have loved and lost, Michael. That being said, hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable," he replied quietly. His voice quivered ever so slightly on the last words, the only outward sign of his struggle against his hidden emotions.
Overcome by his own sorrow he simply nodded, staring at the tombstone. A moment later, without shifting his gaze, he whispered, "Jack. if you don't mind. I want to be alone." Jack, as I could now call him, placed his hand on the younger man's back for a moment, silently offering his support before leaving.
I continued to trim imaginary pieces off the shrubbery while Michael stood in silence. For a moment I wondered if that was all I would learn today, but then my patience was rewarded. Left alone with his thoughts, Vaughn began to talk. It was always this way, I had noticed. I'm not sure, but I think sometimes he reminisced on the things they had shared, or maybe he caught her up on what was going on with everyone they had known, allowing himself to imagine for one brief moment that she was merely away on a trip, although he knew it was pretense. And sometimes, like this time, he just shared his thoughts, his struggle to live without her.
When he finally began to speak, the pain in his voice nearly brought tears to my eyes. "Sydney. Ah Syd, why do I always talk as if you can hear me? I wish you could, it hurts so much not having you here. I'd always heard that amputees experience phantom pains, where their brain tells them their missing part is hurting, even though it doesn't exist anymore. I'd always heard it, but I never understood it. until you left. I come home from a long day at work and I want to tell you about it, but you aren't there. I see something that I know would make you happy, and I turn to your glorious smile, but I see only empty walls or barren space. I reach out for you in the night and come up empty handed. A part of me is missing. and I can only be thankful that my pain has saved you the anguish of experiencing this for yourself."
I glanced down at my useless right arm. I could understand exactly what he was talking about. One day in my former career as a chef I had spilled hot oil on my arm. The burns had been bad, but I hadn't wanted to go to the doctor. By the time I finally gave in, it was too late-they had to take my arm from the elbow down. The phantom pains still bothered me. But Michael was still talking, and I didn't want to miss any of it.
"It seems so unfair that you would come home time after time without being hurt, and then get killed in a hit and run accident just blocks from our house. We always used to talk about not letting our work bring us down to the level of those we fought, but it becomes so much harder when you are fighting yourself, when you struggle against the loneliness that grows inside you. But I am determined to win. Nothing can hurt us now. What we have can't be destroyed. That's our victory. our victory over the dark."
The strength behind those words was made all the more incredible by the weakness it was struggling to overcome. This was a man who had seen the worst the world had to offer and was able to look at it from the other side untouched, yet the loss of this woman had driven him almost to his knees.
Slowly, he crouched down until the grave marker was at eye level. He traced over the inscription, the words he had probably chosen himself. He stayed like that for a moment, lost in thought, then he stood and walked away.
After he was gone, I walked around to the front of the tombstone to see if I could learn anything about this woman who had so affected two men. A bouquet of carnations rested on the ground, vibrant against the grey marble of the marker. Inscribed upon it were these words: "Sydney Bristow Vaughn: I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks when she loved me."
[b]Movie Quotes[/b] (Yes, that's plural. I went looking for quotes after I knew the story I was going to tell. and well, they all jumped out at me!)
"That which does not kill us, makes us stronger".....(Steel Magnolias) "Hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable" .......(Wizard of Oz) "I want to be alone." -Greta Garbo (Grand Hotel) "Nothing can hurt us now. What we have can't be destroyed. That's our victory... our victory over the dark." --Bette Davis. (Dark Victory) "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me." --Humphrey Bogart. (In a Lonely Place)