DISCLAIMER - I don't own Alias, or the characters. And I don't own the poem "A Road Less Travelled" by Robert Frost.
DEDICATION - To anyone who has ever encouraged me in my writing, or inspired me with their own work. [meaning all of you, as well as my best friend, Eleanor (you'll never see this, but you make me a better person. so thankyou duckling. ), the closest thing I have to a beta reader, Joy (to Latin scholars everywhere, my friend. thanks for reading it through for me. ), as well as the countless teachers who have made me want to live up to their expectations]
So, to everyone [including all the terrific writers here - I am constantly inspired by things that I read on this board], THANK YOU.
I'd also like to say thankyou for God, for making me a stronger and better person.

And because I know you're anxious for the chapter....here you go.

The last chapter of "Renaissance", and therefore, the final chapter of "Penance".

Renaissance

Easter

Your new life begins today, with the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle [your salvation].

You walk into the little village chapel on your father's arm, and you don't think you've ever seen your father as close to tears as he is at that moment.

When you reach the end of the aisle, your father lifts your veil and kisses your cheek, and you look around at the church full of your family and friends, all smiling broadly.

Francie is your maid of honour, of course, and Weiss the best man. Will's there as well, genuinely happy to see you happily living such an ordinary life.

Your mother sits up the back, a C-4 necklace around her neck proof that no one, not even you, completely trusts her, even now. [truth...and trust takes time. but we have all the time in the world now]

You listen to the reverend speak [one of your neighbours, a dear man who welcomed you with open arms when you moved to town] on love and marriage and faith, and before you know it you've exchanged your vows, and it's time for the groom to kiss the bride.

When he kisses you, you're free.

Your kisses are no longer desperate movements born of pain and darkness and anger and guilt and fear and hate and need and want and every emotion imaginable, but just the sweet touches of a young couple very much in love.

You're in love, and you're free, and you're happy, and the darkness doesn't drive you anymore.

Later that night you're dancing, and there's music playing [you're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be/and I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't think that they'd understand/when everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am] but you don't hear the words, because all of your attention is firmly focused on your new husband [you like the sound of that, you think to yourself].

Nearly two years ago, you'd never met, and you were [reasonably] happily engaged to a doctor. Now, you're married, and you can't imagine life without this man.

"I love you, you know," you say softly to him.

"Of course I know that, Syd," he replies with an amused expression on his face.

And you do love him, more than anything in the world.

You love him, and you're happy, and you're free, and you've almost been reborn [your new life begins today].

You're no longer the black widow spider, as you saw yourself for so long [your love their kiss of death] but instead the phoenix, [beautiful bird of fire] who dies [burns to dust] but then is resurrected, rising triumphant from the ashes, more glorious than before. [from ashes to life, stronger than before]

* * *

You live in a little coastal town a few hours outside LA, in a house that's not too small, and not too big. It has a massive lawn [plenty of room for pets and children] and a beautiful garden [you're learning how to do normal things like plant flowers and where to put trees for the most shade].

You teach high school literature [the students have no idea that Mrs. Vaughn was once a CIA double agent, and that's the way it will stay], trying to install the virtues of the classics in the next generation [some are eager to learn...others aren't quite so receptive, but that's the way teenagers have always been].

Michael [you call him Vaughn when you're alone, or when you're arguing...or when you're making up for those arguments] runs a little law firm in the nearest major "city", which is nowhere as big as LA, of course, but his practice does well, and he's happy [he's a little bored sometimes, but it keeps him safe]

Your father retired shortly after you did, and consults for the CIA sometimes, but he's not out doing missions anymore, which allows you to sleep easy at night knowing he's not out there saving the world.

Your mother....your mother lives with your father now, in a house he bought just after he retired, somewhere out in the mountains. You haven't asked about the status of their "marriage", and they haven't volunteered any. All you can say is that your mother is finally just Laura Bristow [Irina Derevko died a few years ago, according to CIA records, around the same time as the Man was mysteriously assassinated...], the woman she was happiest as, and that you've rarely seen your father quite so happy as now [he smiles frequently now/the first time he smiled like he does now, you were almost scared from the sheer absurdity of it all].

You're happier now than you ever thought you could be. [happiness was for other people. happiness was for normal people.]

For a few years now, it's just been the two of you, enjoying each other's company and getting to know one another like you never had the chance to before. You never realised exactly how much you didn't know about him [his favourite food: Italian/his favourite movie: Star Wars/his favourite television show: Scrubs/his favourite season: winter/his favourite sport: hockey...] until you visited his family in France....he was raised in a little village in Normandy called Fleury, where his mother and aunts and uncles live to this day. You visited them just before you were married [the day was October 1st...two years to the day since you met, two years since his father's watch stopped] and you were welcomed with open arms [they don't know who your mother was] - you even met his "crazy Aunt Trish", who you really didn't think was all that crazy, but actually rather sweet [a little eccentric, maybe, but not crazy].

You have normal lives, with normal jobs, and some people would say your life is almost depressingly normal ["aren't you bored down here, Mike?" Weiss asks whenever he visits you. "Not at all," Michael replies every time, his arm around your shoulder] but after a life like you have had [you doubt that there are countries in the world that you haven't visited that are actually worth visiting] the normality of it all is uplifting.

During the week, you rise early [he sleeps soundly at night now, knowing that you're safe in bed beside him] and walk your dogs [you bought a friend for Donovan just after you married, a energetic golden retriever named Texas] around the town, before returning home to shower [sometimes together] and dress for work. Then you go your separate ways [a kiss and "I love you"'s at the door, always] - you off to teach Shakespeare and the like, he to his law firm, where the most common infractions dealt with are unpaid speeding tickets. You take it in turns to cook dinner each night [he cooks superb French cuisine....you've only just really begun to learn not how to burn eggs, but he's an excellent teacher (when you don't get sidetracked playing with food...) and eventually you'll learn, right?], and then you'll both curl up in your living room, reading or watching movies [or hockey, when his team, the Kings are playing] or doing work for the next day, and then you'll go to bed happy and content and sleeping side by side in a four poster bed.

Of course, it's not all smooth sailing [sometimes you argue, but never very much, and sometimes you suspect that you're both guilty of winding the other one up, because making up after the arguments is so much fun], and your lives aren't perfect, but they're good, and they're normal, and best of all, they're together.

It's been the two of you now for nearly four years, but there's plenty of room in the house [four bedrooms - yours, a large study and two rooms you use as guest rooms, or more often than not, storage areas] and there's a big lawn for children to play on [and you even have a white picket fence] and lately you've been feeling a little nauseous ["Syd, did you throw up again?" "No....well, yes, but I'm feeling all right, honestly." "Syd, that's the fourth time this week, and it's only Wednesday! I'm calling Dr. Perkins and scheduling an appointment for you this afternoon, okay?" "Fine, Vaughn. I really don't need it-" "Syd, this is not something that's good for you." "All right, Mike..."] and so you're on the way to your doctor, a kindly and energetic grandmother of 4.

"Sydney! How lovely to see you again! It must have been...what, two months? I don't think I've seen you since Beth and Chris's [next door neighbours and colleagues...Chris teaches math, Beth art] barbecue." She almost bounces over and gives you a hug.

"It's good to see you as well, Charlotte!" you reply, not able to help becoming enthused by the woman's friendliness.

"Now, do sit down," she says, gesturing you to a seat in her office, "What can I do for you today?"

"Well, Mike insisted that I come in...I'm really feeling fine, but you know what husbands are like..."

"What is your lovely husband so concerned over?"

"Well, I threw up this morning...and it's the fourth time this week...I've been feeling a bit nauseated in the mornings lately," you reply, feeling a little silly to be wasting her time with this [you've probably just got some sort of stomach bug]

She actually smiles slightly, like she knows something that you don't. "Well, I think I have an idea about what it might be, but let me just run some tests..."

So she takes some samples [you're not in the least fussed by having a blood test anymore, since experiencing some of the world's best torture techniques] and goes off to run those tests.

A few minutes later she comes back in, definitely smiling now, and you wonder what on earth is so funny about stomach bugs.

"Sydney, it's exactly what I thought it was." She sits down, and begins to get out some brochures from her desk.

"So, what bug have I picked up?"

"Well, it's not exactly a bug, although sometimes they do bear a definite resemblance to insects....Sydney, you're pregnant."

"I'm WHAT?"

This wasn't what you were expecting when you entered this doctor's surgery, no, not by a long shot. I mean, you've always thought about having children, but you're both still young, and you definitely weren't trying to have children [although it never hurts to practice].

"Pregnant, dear. About four weeks along."

[four weeks...that would make it about the time of that argument you had with Vaughn over whose family you were going to spend Thanksgiving with....] You blush slightly, remembering the aftermath of that fight....

She sees your blush, and, you suspect, the reasons behind your blush, and just starts to give your brochures on pre-natal mother's classes.

You walk out of her doctor's surgery completely floored.

You're having a baby.

You're going to be parents.

* * *

"Vaughn?" You walk through the front door grinning broadly. A Baby. You're having a baby.

"I'm in here, Syd," he calls from the kitchen, cooking something that smells suspiciously like pasta with some sort of seafood.

"Okay!" You go and change clothes quickly, getting out of your teacher-ish clothes and into jeans and a t-shirt. [I'm going to have to buy maternity clothes!]

"So, what did Dr. Perkins say? Just a stomach bug or something?" he calls again.

"Not exactly," you reply, sneaking up on him from behind and kissing his cheek.

"I'm pregnant," you whisper in his ear.

He drops the spoon he was holding and just says, "You're WHAT?"

"We're having a baby."

"What? How? When?" You're never seen him look quite so bemused as right now. If anything, he's even more surprised by this news than you were.

"We're going to have a baby. Secondly, I believe you're quite familiar with the process - and you were there. Thirdly, in about thirty-six weeks."

"We're having a baby? As in a child? A little boy or girl? Of our own?"

"No, Vaughn, someone else's. Yes, our own! We're going to be parents, Mike."

"Parents............Wow."

"Yeah," you grin.

"We're going to be parents!"

He lifts you up then in his arms, and you don't think you've ever seen anyone quite so happy as he is at that moment. As he puts you down, he kisses you, and you reply quite eagerly, taking his head between your hands and kissing him back firmly.

"We have to tell everyone! Our parents will be ecstatic!"

You giggle slightly as a thought strikes you suddenly. He looks at you quizzically. "Can you see my father as a babysitter?"

Your husband starts laughing, "So many people back in the Company would pay good money to see Jack Bristow babysit....I wonder if we could sell tickets..."

You giggle even more now at the thought of seeing your father stare furiously at rows of CIA agents watching him change diapers....

"Did Dr. Perkins say how far along you are?" He says suddenly.

"About four weeks," you reply, grinning.

"Four weeks? Oh...ah." He blushes furiously as he remembers that night.

He kisses you again, his hand between you, resting on your stomach.

"And baby makes three," he says huskily when he breaks the kiss.

You just smile and somehow you end up in the bedroom as all thoughts of dinner quickly exit your heads. [it never hurts to practice, after all.]

* * *

Nearly nine months later, you're gripping Vaughn's hand so hard that the poor man looks like you've broken bones. [sorry, sweetheart, but I can assure you it's nothing compared to the pain I'm in right now]

"Vaughn," you mutter between gritted teeth, "I have been tortured by professionals. That was pleasant compared to this."

You add on, "Piece of cake my shirt."

He just smiles weakly, knowing that you could probably break him into toothpicks without breaking a sweat when you're as worked up as this. [your husband is a very wise man not to argue this point with you right now]

"Come on Mrs. Vaughn, just one more push," the doctor at the end of the bed says encouragingly.

You glare furiously. "You. Want. To. Give. Birth. To. This. Baby?"

"Ah, no," he backs up a few paces, and you almost smile.

"Good man. Now please don't try to tell me how to do it!"

You're really not in a mood to be nice. Honest to God, there is no part of you that does not hurt right now.

But when you're holding your daughter ["It's a girl!" Vaughn says with the second-biggest grin you've ever seen, on his face - the biggest was on the day of your wedding] a few hours later, it all seems worth it.

"Eleanor Joy Vaughn," you say in rapture as you watch your daughter feeding [you don't think you've ever seen such a perfect child]. Vaughn sits at your side, and gently kisses your forehead. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is. Almost as beautiful as her mother."

"I love you," you say softly to him. [more than you can ever know, you think sometimes, and then you look into his eyes, and you know that he sees the same love in yours]

"I know," he replies.

* * *

You've killed men, and you've had blood on your hands, and you've committed many sins. [but you realised long ago that there were more people with more to answer for, more blood on their hands, more death to their names. so you devoted your life to destroying them, as an act of penance, trying to redeem yourself for your sins]

Now you've brought a new life into the world, and you think that maybe this was your final act of penance. [the slate is clean, finally]

From death, new life.

From blood on your hands, a baby in your arms.

From sin, renaissance [new birth]

You haven't had an easy, or a happy, or a normal life.

But that doesn't matter anymore.

Your daughter will grow up in a household with two parents that love her greatly, and who aren't holding back any secrets.

She won't be a spy [unless she wants to be], and she'll be able to tell her friends and family about her job without putting their lives at risk.

She'll be free to make her own decisions and choices in life, something you were never afforded.

She won't have blood on her hands. And she'll be free of the lies.

When you look back upon your life though, at the darkness and hurt and pain and blood and guilt and lies that you lived through [you lived by the words 'you live and you lie and you breathe', just those words over and over again inside your head for nearly two years], you think that maybe it was worth it, because you know you'd never have met the man that makes your life worth living [the reason why you still have a life to live], never have had the normal life [the normal and free and true life] you have now, never had the baby girl you are feeding now [the little girl you already love so much it almost hurts] without the choices that you made in life [the choice to join the "CIA", the choice to tell Danny the truth about your life...the decision to go to the real CIA].

You took the road less travelled [it was dark and it was painful and it hurt you] and that has made all the difference [it led you to him, and to this place and to this little girl].

And nothing else matters.

[renaissance: new life]

You think one day that you have a perfect life.

Your life's not perfect. But it's yours, and you're free and you're happy and you no longer see blood on your hands. The darkness doesn't come for you at night anymore. You've done your penance, rid yourself of your sins, and now a guardian angel [your salvation] sleeps beside you every night, and a little girl [Eleanor: light/Joy: happiness] lights your days.

It's not full circle [because the beginning was full of lies]. It's a new circle, and a new life. [and the start of this story is full of hope and light and above all, truth]

[penance: catharsis/evolution/growth/renaissance]

END

[It's over! It's really over! *sobs*]

*is happy because it's finished, sad because it's over*

Please read and review! :)

And thanks so much to everyone who already *has* reviewed!
:)
Em