Aphelion, Chapter 4: Found
By: Souris
Feedback: souris@vartanho.com
Rating: Upping this chapter to "R" for naughty language!
Author's Note: Ah, the end! And there's a lot of emotional baggage and angst to be taken care of.... (Thanks to Bella for the beta!)
Warehouse
City of Industry
Seven days later
Sydney walked slowly into the warehouse. The hope that she had felt the previous three times she had walked into their meeting place had been replaced by something more like dread. She didn't know how many more times she could endure finding Weiss standing there. Each time she saw him instead of the man she wanted to see -- ached to see -- part of her crumbled away.
It was Monday, and her father's Wednesday deadline loomed ominously in the back of her mind. Each day since he had told her, she had awoken praying that she would hear something that day. She had heard nothing.
Her father had been no further help. Vaughn would not make contact until the mission was over, so he had nothing to tell her and informed her that he wouldn't have, even if he could have.
If her sleep had been disturbed before, now it was practically nonexistent. When Francie and Will had mentioned her haggard appearance, she had mumbled about a crisis at the bank. When Dixon had told her he was worried about her and asked her what was wrong, she had made up a story about being stuck in the middle of a major falling out between Francie and Will. She wasn't sure if any of them had believed her. Frankly, she didn't care, as long as they didn't press her.
She couldn't tell any of them the truth. There was only one person to whom she could tell the truth.
She turned the corner, her steps hesitant -- and there he was.
Her breath caught, and relief sapped all the energy from her body. For a moment, she thought her legs were going to give way, and she had to reach out to grab a crate to steady herself.
"Vaughn," she whispered, almost afraid to believe her eyes. He was wearing a dark gray suit, though he'd taken off the jacket and tossed it across the back of a chair. There was a bruise on one cheek, a small bandage over his eyebrow and dark circles underneath his eyes.
She had never seen a more beautiful sight.
Strength returned to her legs, and she practically ran to embrace him, heedless of anything but her joy at seeing him. She buried her face in the soft material of his blue oxford, breathing in the scent of him, the *nearness* of him. "Thank God you're OK!" For a few glorious moments, his arms were tight around her, one hand buried in her hair, and everything was right with the world again. Everything was perfect. "Where were you?" she asked softly, barely stopping herself from nuzzling his chest.
To her disappointment, he loosened his grip then, pulling away from her, leaving her feeling bereft. "France. I'm sorry, I can't tell you any more than that. Orders from Devlin. It didn't have anything to do with SD-6, though."
She nodded, trying to ignore the hurt that his words had caused. The most important thing -- the only important thing -- was that he was alive and standing next to her. But, still, it was strange to have him keep something from her. Even if she understood, it was ... disconcerting. It felt wrong. They weren't supposed to have any secrets.
His voice softened a little. "Sydney? What's wrong? You look ... tired."
She had been hanging by a thread for weeks, and his concerned words caused something inside her to suddenly snap, unleashing a maelstrom of emotion. "What's *wrong*???" she burst out, relief changing to incredulity and fury. "How about the fact that I haven't slept for a week wondering if you were dead or alive? Do you have any fucking idea how worried I've been? Do you?"
He regarded her gravely. "Yes, I do. I know all about worry, Sydney."
The raw honesty in his voice stopped her for a moment, and she knew that he was talking about her. It sent a wave of warmth through her. But then, perversely, it made her even angrier.
"Then how could you do that to me?" she demanded. "How could you go off without a word to me? At least you know where I *am* when I'm on a mission. I didn't know *anything*! Weiss didn't know anything!"
"It was top secret, Sydney!" he shot back. "And, anyway, you were in Budapest. I couldn't exactly leave a message with Francie, now could I?"
"You should have found a way! I had to beg my father to find out that you hadn't run off with some other woman!" She began to beat on his chest with her fists, too upset to restrain herself or think about her words. All she could think about was hurting him as much as she had hurt. "God damn it, Vaughn, how could you just leave me like that?! You're not supposed to go anywhere! You're supposed to be *here*!"
He grabbed her wrists, his grip startlingly strong. "So that's what all this is about, then? You were scared you'd lost your lapdog? I'm just supposed to sit by the phone and be at your beck and call whenever you want somebody to dump all your shit on? Of course I'm not good enough for anything *else*! It's only about what you want!" His face was close to hers, his voice bitter and sharp enough to cut.
She jerked her hands from his grasp but didn't back away. "What do you know about what I want? What do you care? You've been so busy screwing *Sarah*" -- she practically spit the name in his face -- "that you haven't even looked at me in weeks! It's like you can't get away from me fast enough!"
He barked out a humorless laugh. "Oh, that's rich! Why don't we talk about Noah, then? You were sure thinking about *me* a lot while you were falling into bed with him! And at least Sarah isn't a hired assassin who gets off on ice-picking people!"
The crack from her hand making contact with his cheek reverberated in the warehouse. For a moment, they just stared at each other, eyes wide, all the fire between them suddenly doused by the cold horror of realization.
"I'm sorry," she breathed, aghast.
"Me, too." He ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. "What the hell is this? What are we doing?" He felt as if he wanted to throw up. This wasn't at all what he had envisioned. How had they gotten to this point?
"I don't know." Her eyes were stricken. She had *hit* him. *Him*. She didn't want to hurt him, never him.
"Sydney, we can't keep on like this," he said, his voice agitated.
"I know." She could feel moisture welling up in her eyes, and she ran a hand across them, willing the burgeoning tears not to fall, letting her hair fall across her face.
The solution was obvious. Sickening, hateful, maybe too hard, but obvious -- and probably for the best. "Someone else should be assigned to your case --"
She jerked her head up, heart constricting. "No, Vaughn! No! I can't do this without you."
"You could. You'd be fine. You'd probably even be better off. This isn't right."
She shook her head dismissively. "I won't do this without you. I mean it. You're the only one I trust, the only one I *will* trust." Her voice was desperate, yet held a firmness that told him plainly that it wasn't an option. She was perfectly capable of telling the CIA where to stick it, and he knew it. He also knew, to his utter shame, that he wasn't capable of walking away from her completely, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise. She was in his blood, in his soul, and nothing he did was going to change that. Facing death had a way of clarifying things.
Another possibility insinuated itself into his mind, heady and dangerous and foolish and infinitely seductive. Compared to the other, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, just maybe.... "Then the only other choice is, we stop fighting ... this." He waved his hand in the air separating them. "Whatever this is between us. Because fighting it clearly isn't working. It's tearing us apart. I can't imagine that giving in could be any more destructive."
She simply stared at him, and he suddenly felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Why had he said that? For a few moments, he had believed that maybe she did care for him the way he did her. Why else would she have brought up Sarah? But maybe he had been right in convincing himself that she wasn't interested in him. Maybe now she *would* want him to stop being her handler. "I mean, if you think there's something between us. If you're interested."
Finally, after what was to him an excruciating, embarrassing silence, she spoke. And it wasn't anything that he had imagined her saying. "Vaughn, I need to tell you about Noah."
"What? Syd, I don't want to --"
"I know, but I really need to explain something to you, OK? Something I just figured out this week. Something important."
He sighed, resigned to hearing still more about the man whose name he never wanted to hear again. What were the chances this wasn't going to hurt like hell? Still, as usual, he could not deny her. "Go ahead."
"I know that I was reckless with Noah and didn't think about what I was doing. I was stupid. But, Vaughn, I was scared."
He furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Of what?"
"Of you."
This made him blink. "Wha -- me? Why?" he burst out, his voice rising in surprise.
"Because I was afraid that I was forgetting about why I'm doing this. When I thought about taking down SD-6, I wasn't thinking about avenging Danny or the good of the country so much anymore. I was thinking about being free to go to a hockey game with you. God, I felt so guilty. How could I think about the future? About you? How could I have these feelings? And how could I risk it, risk losing you? I couldn't survive that. I just couldn't. Between that and finding out about my mother -- I was so confused. And then Noah came back. I knew him first, you see. He didn't make me feel like I was cheating on Danny. I thought he would be 'safe.' I thought he could make all those other things go away."
She gave a rueful, sad smile, then looked up at him, her eyes wide and moist and pained. "I'm so sorry for hurting you," she continued. "I've missed you so much the past few weeks. I knew it was my fault, but I didn't know how to make it better. And then when you were gone, I was terrified that I'd never see you again. I couldn't think about anything else. I couldn't ignore it anymore, and I was just so afraid that it was too late and I'd never get to tell you."
Tears had started to trickle down her cheeks, and his heart seemed to break and expand at the same time. He cupped her cheek gently, forcing her to look at him fully. "Sydney--"
"Vaughn, I need you. Even if SD-6 was destroyed tomorrow, I'd still need you."
He felt a strange lightness come over him. Weeks of burden and pain and uncertainty seemed to evaporate into nothingness. "I need you, too, Sydney. I thought about you so much when I was in France. I tried not to, but oh, God, Sydney, I couldn't wait to see you again."
They leaned into one another then, barriers shattered, mouths meeting at last. The kiss started tentatively, sweetly, as they adjusted to the feel of one another's lips, to the honeyed taste of long-forbidden fruit. They opened their mouths to one another, sighing with pleasure, with relief, delving deeper, ever deeper. Gradually, the kiss became passionate, almost frenzied, heat rising, as months of submerged desires and emotions came clamoring to the surface, begging for release at last. Tongues dueled and stroked, hands roamed freely, breath came in gasps as their lips broke apart briefly, only to claim one another again as soon as their lungs would allow.
When they finally drew apart, they were sitting on one of the chairs, her in his lap, although neither could remember how they got there. She took a deep breath and leaned her head against his shoulder, content but for one thing, one question that had to be answered. There would be other questions later, of course, questions of danger and secrecy and life and death, but there was only one that concerned her at the moment.
"What about Sarah?" she asked softly.
He groaned. "She's wonderful. And I've been horribly unfair to her. I didn't mean to, but I've just been using her. I've been trying so hard to forget about you. I thought she could help me forget. But it's all been about you, Sydney. Sarah doesn't deserve to be in the middle of this. I can never apologize to her enough," he said sadly, guilt preying at his conscience.
She nodded, accepting this, in spite of the hurt that still nibbled at her heart. After Noah, she could do no less. How could she possibly judge him for doing the same thing that she had done? "I was so jealous."
"I think maybe I wanted you to be." He kissed her hair gently.
She tightened her arms around him. "We almost made a mess of everything, didn't we?"
"We still could, you know."
She leaned back and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I don't think we will. Not now."
He reached up to caress her cheek, and they smiled at each other.
And they moved toward perihelion.
**END**
Perihelion: The point in the path of a celestial body that is nearest to the sun. (In case you couldn't guess from context! ;-)
I hope that was worth the angst!
By: Souris
Feedback: souris@vartanho.com
Rating: Upping this chapter to "R" for naughty language!
Author's Note: Ah, the end! And there's a lot of emotional baggage and angst to be taken care of.... (Thanks to Bella for the beta!)
Warehouse
City of Industry
Seven days later
Sydney walked slowly into the warehouse. The hope that she had felt the previous three times she had walked into their meeting place had been replaced by something more like dread. She didn't know how many more times she could endure finding Weiss standing there. Each time she saw him instead of the man she wanted to see -- ached to see -- part of her crumbled away.
It was Monday, and her father's Wednesday deadline loomed ominously in the back of her mind. Each day since he had told her, she had awoken praying that she would hear something that day. She had heard nothing.
Her father had been no further help. Vaughn would not make contact until the mission was over, so he had nothing to tell her and informed her that he wouldn't have, even if he could have.
If her sleep had been disturbed before, now it was practically nonexistent. When Francie and Will had mentioned her haggard appearance, she had mumbled about a crisis at the bank. When Dixon had told her he was worried about her and asked her what was wrong, she had made up a story about being stuck in the middle of a major falling out between Francie and Will. She wasn't sure if any of them had believed her. Frankly, she didn't care, as long as they didn't press her.
She couldn't tell any of them the truth. There was only one person to whom she could tell the truth.
She turned the corner, her steps hesitant -- and there he was.
Her breath caught, and relief sapped all the energy from her body. For a moment, she thought her legs were going to give way, and she had to reach out to grab a crate to steady herself.
"Vaughn," she whispered, almost afraid to believe her eyes. He was wearing a dark gray suit, though he'd taken off the jacket and tossed it across the back of a chair. There was a bruise on one cheek, a small bandage over his eyebrow and dark circles underneath his eyes.
She had never seen a more beautiful sight.
Strength returned to her legs, and she practically ran to embrace him, heedless of anything but her joy at seeing him. She buried her face in the soft material of his blue oxford, breathing in the scent of him, the *nearness* of him. "Thank God you're OK!" For a few glorious moments, his arms were tight around her, one hand buried in her hair, and everything was right with the world again. Everything was perfect. "Where were you?" she asked softly, barely stopping herself from nuzzling his chest.
To her disappointment, he loosened his grip then, pulling away from her, leaving her feeling bereft. "France. I'm sorry, I can't tell you any more than that. Orders from Devlin. It didn't have anything to do with SD-6, though."
She nodded, trying to ignore the hurt that his words had caused. The most important thing -- the only important thing -- was that he was alive and standing next to her. But, still, it was strange to have him keep something from her. Even if she understood, it was ... disconcerting. It felt wrong. They weren't supposed to have any secrets.
His voice softened a little. "Sydney? What's wrong? You look ... tired."
She had been hanging by a thread for weeks, and his concerned words caused something inside her to suddenly snap, unleashing a maelstrom of emotion. "What's *wrong*???" she burst out, relief changing to incredulity and fury. "How about the fact that I haven't slept for a week wondering if you were dead or alive? Do you have any fucking idea how worried I've been? Do you?"
He regarded her gravely. "Yes, I do. I know all about worry, Sydney."
The raw honesty in his voice stopped her for a moment, and she knew that he was talking about her. It sent a wave of warmth through her. But then, perversely, it made her even angrier.
"Then how could you do that to me?" she demanded. "How could you go off without a word to me? At least you know where I *am* when I'm on a mission. I didn't know *anything*! Weiss didn't know anything!"
"It was top secret, Sydney!" he shot back. "And, anyway, you were in Budapest. I couldn't exactly leave a message with Francie, now could I?"
"You should have found a way! I had to beg my father to find out that you hadn't run off with some other woman!" She began to beat on his chest with her fists, too upset to restrain herself or think about her words. All she could think about was hurting him as much as she had hurt. "God damn it, Vaughn, how could you just leave me like that?! You're not supposed to go anywhere! You're supposed to be *here*!"
He grabbed her wrists, his grip startlingly strong. "So that's what all this is about, then? You were scared you'd lost your lapdog? I'm just supposed to sit by the phone and be at your beck and call whenever you want somebody to dump all your shit on? Of course I'm not good enough for anything *else*! It's only about what you want!" His face was close to hers, his voice bitter and sharp enough to cut.
She jerked her hands from his grasp but didn't back away. "What do you know about what I want? What do you care? You've been so busy screwing *Sarah*" -- she practically spit the name in his face -- "that you haven't even looked at me in weeks! It's like you can't get away from me fast enough!"
He barked out a humorless laugh. "Oh, that's rich! Why don't we talk about Noah, then? You were sure thinking about *me* a lot while you were falling into bed with him! And at least Sarah isn't a hired assassin who gets off on ice-picking people!"
The crack from her hand making contact with his cheek reverberated in the warehouse. For a moment, they just stared at each other, eyes wide, all the fire between them suddenly doused by the cold horror of realization.
"I'm sorry," she breathed, aghast.
"Me, too." He ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. "What the hell is this? What are we doing?" He felt as if he wanted to throw up. This wasn't at all what he had envisioned. How had they gotten to this point?
"I don't know." Her eyes were stricken. She had *hit* him. *Him*. She didn't want to hurt him, never him.
"Sydney, we can't keep on like this," he said, his voice agitated.
"I know." She could feel moisture welling up in her eyes, and she ran a hand across them, willing the burgeoning tears not to fall, letting her hair fall across her face.
The solution was obvious. Sickening, hateful, maybe too hard, but obvious -- and probably for the best. "Someone else should be assigned to your case --"
She jerked her head up, heart constricting. "No, Vaughn! No! I can't do this without you."
"You could. You'd be fine. You'd probably even be better off. This isn't right."
She shook her head dismissively. "I won't do this without you. I mean it. You're the only one I trust, the only one I *will* trust." Her voice was desperate, yet held a firmness that told him plainly that it wasn't an option. She was perfectly capable of telling the CIA where to stick it, and he knew it. He also knew, to his utter shame, that he wasn't capable of walking away from her completely, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise. She was in his blood, in his soul, and nothing he did was going to change that. Facing death had a way of clarifying things.
Another possibility insinuated itself into his mind, heady and dangerous and foolish and infinitely seductive. Compared to the other, it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, just maybe.... "Then the only other choice is, we stop fighting ... this." He waved his hand in the air separating them. "Whatever this is between us. Because fighting it clearly isn't working. It's tearing us apart. I can't imagine that giving in could be any more destructive."
She simply stared at him, and he suddenly felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Why had he said that? For a few moments, he had believed that maybe she did care for him the way he did her. Why else would she have brought up Sarah? But maybe he had been right in convincing himself that she wasn't interested in him. Maybe now she *would* want him to stop being her handler. "I mean, if you think there's something between us. If you're interested."
Finally, after what was to him an excruciating, embarrassing silence, she spoke. And it wasn't anything that he had imagined her saying. "Vaughn, I need to tell you about Noah."
"What? Syd, I don't want to --"
"I know, but I really need to explain something to you, OK? Something I just figured out this week. Something important."
He sighed, resigned to hearing still more about the man whose name he never wanted to hear again. What were the chances this wasn't going to hurt like hell? Still, as usual, he could not deny her. "Go ahead."
"I know that I was reckless with Noah and didn't think about what I was doing. I was stupid. But, Vaughn, I was scared."
He furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Of what?"
"Of you."
This made him blink. "Wha -- me? Why?" he burst out, his voice rising in surprise.
"Because I was afraid that I was forgetting about why I'm doing this. When I thought about taking down SD-6, I wasn't thinking about avenging Danny or the good of the country so much anymore. I was thinking about being free to go to a hockey game with you. God, I felt so guilty. How could I think about the future? About you? How could I have these feelings? And how could I risk it, risk losing you? I couldn't survive that. I just couldn't. Between that and finding out about my mother -- I was so confused. And then Noah came back. I knew him first, you see. He didn't make me feel like I was cheating on Danny. I thought he would be 'safe.' I thought he could make all those other things go away."
She gave a rueful, sad smile, then looked up at him, her eyes wide and moist and pained. "I'm so sorry for hurting you," she continued. "I've missed you so much the past few weeks. I knew it was my fault, but I didn't know how to make it better. And then when you were gone, I was terrified that I'd never see you again. I couldn't think about anything else. I couldn't ignore it anymore, and I was just so afraid that it was too late and I'd never get to tell you."
Tears had started to trickle down her cheeks, and his heart seemed to break and expand at the same time. He cupped her cheek gently, forcing her to look at him fully. "Sydney--"
"Vaughn, I need you. Even if SD-6 was destroyed tomorrow, I'd still need you."
He felt a strange lightness come over him. Weeks of burden and pain and uncertainty seemed to evaporate into nothingness. "I need you, too, Sydney. I thought about you so much when I was in France. I tried not to, but oh, God, Sydney, I couldn't wait to see you again."
They leaned into one another then, barriers shattered, mouths meeting at last. The kiss started tentatively, sweetly, as they adjusted to the feel of one another's lips, to the honeyed taste of long-forbidden fruit. They opened their mouths to one another, sighing with pleasure, with relief, delving deeper, ever deeper. Gradually, the kiss became passionate, almost frenzied, heat rising, as months of submerged desires and emotions came clamoring to the surface, begging for release at last. Tongues dueled and stroked, hands roamed freely, breath came in gasps as their lips broke apart briefly, only to claim one another again as soon as their lungs would allow.
When they finally drew apart, they were sitting on one of the chairs, her in his lap, although neither could remember how they got there. She took a deep breath and leaned her head against his shoulder, content but for one thing, one question that had to be answered. There would be other questions later, of course, questions of danger and secrecy and life and death, but there was only one that concerned her at the moment.
"What about Sarah?" she asked softly.
He groaned. "She's wonderful. And I've been horribly unfair to her. I didn't mean to, but I've just been using her. I've been trying so hard to forget about you. I thought she could help me forget. But it's all been about you, Sydney. Sarah doesn't deserve to be in the middle of this. I can never apologize to her enough," he said sadly, guilt preying at his conscience.
She nodded, accepting this, in spite of the hurt that still nibbled at her heart. After Noah, she could do no less. How could she possibly judge him for doing the same thing that she had done? "I was so jealous."
"I think maybe I wanted you to be." He kissed her hair gently.
She tightened her arms around him. "We almost made a mess of everything, didn't we?"
"We still could, you know."
She leaned back and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I don't think we will. Not now."
He reached up to caress her cheek, and they smiled at each other.
And they moved toward perihelion.
**END**
Perihelion: The point in the path of a celestial body that is nearest to the sun. (In case you couldn't guess from context! ;-)
I hope that was worth the angst!