II.
Uncle Eric, Grandpa Jack, Mommy, and Daddy all sat in places of honor upon the bed. Uncle Eric and Grandpa Jack were seated regally near the footboard, while Mommy and Daddy earned the coveted spaces on either side of sleeping Elijah. Vaughn lifted Mommy, examining her. She was nothing special, just a sunny yellow bear with a bright green bow. But she and her companion, Daddy, a kelly green bear with a sunflower bow were his favorites. The first time Eli had asked about his mother had been during the naming of the plush companions that were his closest friends.
He toddled into the room, struggling beneath the cumbersome load he carried. Unceremoniously, he deposited the toys onto the floor, then stood them up against the foot of the couch. He patted Vaughn on the knee and when he garnered his attention, pointed at the stuffed animals, holding them up one by one. First was a floppy blue rabbit, which Eli informed Vaughn was now called, "Uncle Eric." Next came a rigid red lion, whose fierce demeanor suited his new name: "Grandpa Jack." Then, the cuddly green bear whose fur was the same as the eyes of the man he had been named for. "Daddy." And at last there was the yellow bear…
Eli held the lone stuffed animal up to his father before dropping it to free his hands so he could ask, 'Who gave bear?'
His child-like grammar and then, still early knowledge of sign language sometimes made his conversation choppy, but Vaughn could always decipher his meaning. He had named each for the giver, but he did not know who the namesake for this last companion was.
'Mommy' Vaughn spelled out the answer with each individual letter, rather than using the single sweeping motion. Mother was an unfamiliar title to Elijah. The boy mirrored his actions, his hand uncertain as it formed the strange new word. He looked up at Vaughn for reassurance, who nodded.
'Mommy' Eli signed once more, this time happily, pleased with the name. Then he frowned, first at the bear, then at Vaughn.
'Who's Mommy? he asked by forming the signs, his pudgy fingers becoming acclimated to performing the sequence, determined to know the origin of his toy's new moniker. Vaughn bent down, lifting Elijah and the bear onto his lap as he seated himself upon one of the black cushions that padded the sofa. Eli sank back into the security provided by his father's familiar embrace, patting Mommy on the head before bestowing a sweet kiss upon her. Love was abundant in the small but comfortable cottage as Vaughn strove to show him the affection of two parents, but the kisses and cuddles exchanged between Daddy and son were as much for Vaughn as they were for Eli. They were one of the few ways he felt safe again.
Vaughn placed a soft kiss to Elijah's thick auburn hair as he contemplated what he would say, or sign. How could he describe the bravest, most beautiful, most amazing woman in the world to a child who had never seen her? Slowly, his hands depicted the story, painting the air with the tale of Sydney Bristow.
'She's beautiful' he had started. His went on, his thoughts swirling and churning, descriptions and adjectives rising to the surface of his elated mind, each one eager to become a piece of the story. He told of her bright brown eyes, her perfect, dimpled smile. He told of her bravery, her strength, her compassion. But most of all, his motions spoke of her love, the love that she showered them with every second of every day as she fought the enemy that separated them. He narrated her sacrifice, her desire for her son to live. Finally, he related her return, how she would soon come back to them. Eli had sat in wonder and awe at the stories, scarcely daring to believe that such an extraordinary figure had given him life.
'She'll be here with us soon' his father's gestures had promised.
That had been a few weeks before his third birthday, four months prior to the present. He hadn't asked about her since, at least not to Vaughn, but he had witnessed the small boy imploring the bear when her namesake would return. His heart had broken as he saw his son's frustration as the animal remained silent, its inanimate paws unable to form the signs even if it had known the answer. In anger, Eli had thrown the toy, glaring at where it lay sprawled on the carpet of his room. Vaughn watched as he scowled at the bear for not being able to give him a reply, and then glanced worriedly at it. He bit his lip, as if in great conflict, then slowly reached out and retrieved the stuffed animal from its discarded position, hugging it to his chest as tiny tears began to fall. He had never felt so alone.
Daddy had said she would come back soon, but when? As he watched other children playing at the playground with their parents, he had realized that his family dynamics weren't exactly orthodox. So why wasn't she home yet? Didn't she want him? As more tears streamed down his rosy cheeks, Vaughn had entered the room. The boy's verdant eyes brimmed with sorrow, the loneliness and confusion of their situation cruelly coming into his focus. The knowledge of the fracture in his life had filled him with the consuming desire to mend it. His young mind was driven by the burning need to make things right, not only to fill the gap he had not realized was there, but to restore the ever dimming light in his father's lonesome eyes.
'He shouldn't be burdened with this' Vaughn's bleeding heart had screamed, and he stooped to lift Elijah from his huddled position against the smooth plaster of the navy wall. Their eyes had met: jade with jade; pain with pain. He had lifted him from the floor, bear and all, and held him. Eli had clung to him, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck, afraid to be swept up in the chaos if he did not find a secure hold.
But Vaughn had been his refuge, his anchor, as he was for the figure he ached for. Vaughn's presence in both their lives linked them and formed the only semblance of family ties they could manage. He was their intercessor, channeling both their love and support to the other. But the myriad of emotions he bore for the trio weighed on his soul, plagued his consciousness, and terrorized his nightmares with the burdening thought that their intense need to be reunited would not be sated.
Vaughn sighed as the memories dimmed and departed, unnerved that the sight of a mere stuffed animal could stir up and evoke the settled sediments of desperation in his barren heart. He tucked the bear in beside his slumbering son, whispering words of comfort into unhearing ears before departing.
"Three more days, mon fils." He looked down at Donovan who was standing guard beside the bed. He patted his furry head affectionately before murmuring, "Watch over him, pal. She'll be home soon." He turned, glancing back at Elijah before departing, his feet soon journeying onto cold tile. He bent low, twisting the knob and releasing the water.
'If she makes it' jeered the cynical voice Eli's sleeping form had banished the night before as he began to warm the water, testing the temperature of the flow as his hand flicked through the downpour. 'She'll make it' his mind declared defiantly as his clothes were discarded onto the icy tile and he stepped over the edge of the tub, yanking the curtain closed around him, isolating himself with his demons.
His hands rubbed the ivory bar between them, working up a dense lather, the thick foam coating his palms. Gradually, his actions became almost violent as he scrubbed his raw skin with vigor, wanting to scour himself clean from the dark thoughts that clung to him, dirtying him.
His motions relaxed and slowed, the scratches beginning to burn. He let the warm deluge soothe the angry marks his earlier actions had produced, the droplets extracting some of the sting from the scrapes that marred his slick skin. The steam hung in the air, clinging to him and the slippery walls of the shower, the fog partially obscuring his view. His sense of time was warped. How long had he been standing there, staring into the mist? He didn't move; his body rigid and immobile. He just stood. Just let the abyss engulf him.
Then, out of the haze, rang out her voice, one word, one resounding note.
'Vaughn' it was jovial, teasing, laced with her laughter; he could hear her smiling. He turned, his eyes darting across the steamy veil, searching every dip and fold in its fluid cloth for the source. The temperature of the water that poured down his back began to cool, and the mist started to evaporate, exposing the emptiness of the cream colored barriers of the shower.
He felt confused; hurt. What had just happened? He tried to relay those elusive moments before the sound, before her voice had rung so clearly through the blurry air, but they slipped in and out of his memory as his mind both rejected and embraced the sensation. His hand twisted the wet knob, halting the flow of water as he wrenched the curtain aside, reaching out to grasp a thick pea green towel that he ran across his sopping hair before he wrapped it around his lower half. He caught a glimpse of his reflection as he stepped towards the condensation-coated mirror. He peered at the image of the forsaken man reflected back at him, distorted from the moisture. Exhaling, his breath thickened the dense silvery layer before causing it to drip away, offering a clearer view of the man he had become. And, as the water slid down the smooth surface, he understood.
He had been inactive, allowing the uncertainty to advance upon him. But she had been there to save him; she had been the light shining through the vapor, illuminating the path before him. It had been her voice that had been the beacon, guiding him safely to shore, redirecting him back onto the path where he wanted to be. She had broken through the barrier of ever thickening fear and anxiety, reaching out to him, unfazed by the walls trying to expel her from his life. Their impending situation crept menacingly nearer, bringing with it a haze of anxiety, but he banished it, taking solace and trust in her love.
He ran a hand down his face; feeling the pleasant cool of the ring he wore, anguish creasing his features as the thought of the dangers she would soon be facing. She had been the radiating light that had overtaken the darkness. His fear was that he would not be able to be to be the same for her, and that the dense mass of uncertainty that would saturate her mind after the Covenant's operation would be too thick for his fragile but resilient strength to penetrate.
The weak rays that filtered through the Venetian blinds lethargically dragged her back into consciousness. Wearily, she opened her eyes, her lids flickering groggily before deciding on the inevitable. The disc and laptop lay expectantly on the bedside table, reminding her of the dreary, monotonous work that stretched ahead of her. Her palm kneaded her exhausted eyes, her jaded thoughts realizing that this may be her last morning alive. She sighed, heavily.
She had gotten used to this; the waiting, the dread. She had spent seven months of it, the fear clawing at her heart as it expanded with love for her unborn child, nearly puncturing it, but not quite. In a way, it would have been easier if it had broken her heart, ripping it apart and spilling its delicate contents. But it hadn't, and for twenty six weeks her soul had been laden with hope and terror for the fragile life she carried. Every moment of that time, she had been on the edge, expecting the Covenant to discover Elijah's presence and tear it from her. The knowledge of her child growing gradually inside of her brought a culmination of agonizing joy and elated fear to course through her, the pain of the overwhelming love she felt for him paralyzing her. Even her sleep had been tormented with visions of the horrors they could inflict upon her long awaited child. No, approaching death could not scare her any longer.
She smiled wryly. If she died, she would be dragging Julia down with her. On this light note, she lifted the portable computer and set it against her thighs, flipping it open and wincing at the artificial light it projected. Sighing once more, she retrieved the disc from its transparent plastic casing, her fingernails prying it open. She slid the silver circle into the drive, the machine whirring animatedly as it processed the contents. The screen went black with a small wheeze, and she assumed it would return with an analysis report to sludge through. She let out a tiny gasp as her mind realized what was being displayed before her.
Upon the screen, a small home video had begun to play. A man she knew by heart and soul stood, grinning, behind a wooden kitchen table, a party hat perched comically atop his head. From presumably behind the camera, Weiss's voice narrated the scene.
"Okay and its time for the cake, Uncle Eric's favorite part. And here's the birthday boy!"
The camera swiveled to show a small boy with russet hair and a smile as bright as the three candles stuck into the chocolate cake that Vaughn had placed before him. He reached out, sticking his fingers into the coco frosting and licking them happily before his father, laughing, explained with careful gestures that he was supposed to blow out the candles and make a wish. At the mention of 'wish' his eyes lit up, his smile widening, revealing cherubic dimples. She noticed him glance excitedly at the bear perched upon the oak table, then close his eyes. Vaughn waved at the camera, his eyes seeming to look directly into hers as their son inhaled deeply, then blew with all his might, extinguishing the candles.
Sydney stared, transfixed by the screen; the window to their life that Vaughn had opened for her. She rarely heard of their home life, her absence from it making the pain too acute for them both. She leaned forward, her thirsting soul drinking in the image of her son. 'Oh God, was that him? Was that the tiny, wrinkly, red, baby she had given birth to all those years ago? It was, those lush verdant irises were unmistakable. She raised her hand to her mouth as if it would keep the breath from leaving her at the shock of seeing her little boy so…big. The video clip faded from view, replaced by a still frame.
She bit her lip, feeling tears she had barricaded starting to well. This was the little infant that had been barely over three pounds. He was a healthy, happy toddler. Now, finally, she could see the fruits of her sacrifice. The photo was of Elijah seated happily on Vaughn's lap, a Dr. Seuss book clutched proudly in his hands as he gleefully deciphered the words on the pages. He was learning how to read. Her baby...he would be going to school soon. Joyously liberated tears spilled down her cheeks, a delighted sob escaping her, filling the atmosphere and lifting the shroud that encased it. The photograph faded only to be replaced by another.
Her son was asleep, curled beneath his dinosaur comforter, a gentle smile caressing his angelic face as he hugged a sunny bear with an emerald bow. She knew that bear. She had chosen it for him, but it had been her solace as well. It had been her company during the endless, exhausted, lonely nights alone with her fear and the miniscule life inside of her. It had witnessed her tears, her frustration, and her joy. It had stood guard at his birth, and when she had been forced to leave him, it had represented her in his life. It was the only thing she could give him as a physical reminder, but nothing else was needed. She knew by her boy's smile that he understood. Her baby knew that Mommy loved him.
The tears cascaded down her face, but she let them fall. They were messengers, the droplets carrying her unconditional love out into the world, and somehow, to him.
The next picture showed Elijah, unruly auburn hair maintained by a shiny red helmet, blue Playschool roller-skates resting unsteadily upon the blacktop of the driveway, his hands bearing a child sized hockey stick. There was a scrape on one of his knees, and his elbow sported a Star Wars band-aid, but he was beaming, his pearly teeth brightening the world around him, his evergreen eyes lit with excitement. God, he looked just like Vaughn. As a tear slid onto the denim of the jeans she had fallen asleep in, the hockey picture was replaced by one showing Elijah and Vaughn.
She let a laugh grace the air as she saw they were forming the Boy Scout sign, each with two fingers upright in the air, saluting their past life. Elijah as a cowboy on Halloween. Blowing bubbles and watching them drift into the heavens. Holding a jar of fireflies whose sheen illuminated his innocent face. Chasing Donovan around the backyard with a mischievous grin. Clutching a cone of chocolate ice cream with the dark tan substance smeared all over his sticky cheeks and fingers. Each one bore a date and a nostalgic air, attempting to share its memory with her and include her within its precious recollection. Each one was a symbol of what they had accomplished; were still accomplishing. Every second of her son's life was another victory, every fragile moment was another battle struggled with and won. The last of the images appeared upon the monitor, installing a sweet and tender hope into her slowly filling heart.
Eli sat in a swing, his copper hair tussled the way she loved his father's, his happiness evident. She could almost hear his laughter although it had never reached her ears. He could not voice words, but his laughter was alive with his life and his purity. Vaughn stood behind him, his smile perfectly captured in the vibrant hues of the photo. She wondered vaguely who had taken the shot when she noticed a message scrawled at the base of the Polaroid, written in Vaughn's perfectly untidy hand.
Wish You Were Here!
The cheery note was one that could be seen on a postcard hallmarking a family vacation, but it ran deeper for Sydney. It rang of hope; spoke of the desire to make things right that drove their daily existence. They lived because they would not give in to death; loved because they refused to let their anger consume them; fought because surrender was never considered an option. The image remained, stilled on the screen, but living, thriving in her heart. They were her strength, her will; her guardians. Her cell phone jangled; the line reserved for her Covenant contacts. It was time.
Slowly, she removed the disc, replacing it into her pocket, softly patting the small bulge it created.
She was ready.