I think about him more than I like to admit. I think about how he
smirked and smelled and spoke. I think about the fake smiles he had on
whenever a smile was necessary but a real one wasn't possible. I think
about how he would have looked with a real smile on his face. I think about
all the snide and degrading comments he made to me just because he knew I
would take the bait and get angry.
I think about the time he asked me to leave and work with him. Leave behind everything, the CIA, SD-6, Francie, Will, my parents. Vaughn. If I had, would he still be alive? Would I be dead? Would I be laying here in bed next to him and not his killer?
I think about that instant Vaughn pulled the trigger. I think about his clear blue eyes suddenly going dead. I think about his blood on my hands while I tried to stop the bleeding, not really knowing why I was trying to save him. Already knowing that it was too late. That evening, Vaughn pulled me aside and told me what a good person I was to try to save an enemy. And then he kissed me like he had done thousands of times before. But even then I was thinking about kissing Sark, making love with Sark, waking up next Sark.
I heard once that even thinking about being with another should be considered being unfaithful. If that is so, then I am unfaithful to Vaughn every moment I am with him. I am unfaithful to my country for thinking of leaving it with an enemy.
I think about the silent understanding that the two of us shared. Back when we were constantly attempting to kill one another, and later when we were forced to work with one another. We both understood that our lives were not our own, that we belonged to someone else. Him to his organization and me to my cause.
But most of all, now to the point that I am distracted at work and home, I think about how much we would have loved each other. Because we are the type of people that have to belong to someone else. He would have been mine, and I would have been his. It would have been the type of love you read about, the kind with no bounds, the kind that makes your blood boil. I think about whether or not he knew we could have had that. Whether or not he wanted us to have that.
So now I'm laying here next to the potential love of my life's killer. And I'm thinking about what I'm going to do now without his smirk and smell. Without his comments. I'm thinking about who I'm going to belong to now.
I think about him more than I like to admit.
I think about the time he asked me to leave and work with him. Leave behind everything, the CIA, SD-6, Francie, Will, my parents. Vaughn. If I had, would he still be alive? Would I be dead? Would I be laying here in bed next to him and not his killer?
I think about that instant Vaughn pulled the trigger. I think about his clear blue eyes suddenly going dead. I think about his blood on my hands while I tried to stop the bleeding, not really knowing why I was trying to save him. Already knowing that it was too late. That evening, Vaughn pulled me aside and told me what a good person I was to try to save an enemy. And then he kissed me like he had done thousands of times before. But even then I was thinking about kissing Sark, making love with Sark, waking up next Sark.
I heard once that even thinking about being with another should be considered being unfaithful. If that is so, then I am unfaithful to Vaughn every moment I am with him. I am unfaithful to my country for thinking of leaving it with an enemy.
I think about the silent understanding that the two of us shared. Back when we were constantly attempting to kill one another, and later when we were forced to work with one another. We both understood that our lives were not our own, that we belonged to someone else. Him to his organization and me to my cause.
But most of all, now to the point that I am distracted at work and home, I think about how much we would have loved each other. Because we are the type of people that have to belong to someone else. He would have been mine, and I would have been his. It would have been the type of love you read about, the kind with no bounds, the kind that makes your blood boil. I think about whether or not he knew we could have had that. Whether or not he wanted us to have that.
So now I'm laying here next to the potential love of my life's killer. And I'm thinking about what I'm going to do now without his smirk and smell. Without his comments. I'm thinking about who I'm going to belong to now.
I think about him more than I like to admit.