1
Chapter Eleven: A Phoenix Rises
Boys would be gone without warmth from a woman's good, good heartDaughters, John Mayer
Sydney took a sip of her coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. She much preferred tea, or better yet, hot chocolate, but she had to drink coffee before missions. It was a stimulant, and therefore, dulled the effects of Synthesia, in case of a firefight, where her gift could become a fatal distraction. Not that she thought they would be attacked, but then again, she hadn't thought that Sark would break into that hospital.
"So what's in Illinois anyway?", asked Vaughn, bringing her out her thoughts.
"Corn…baseball…pizza?" she offered.
"Wow, sounds exciting. And to think we would have missed all that if we had been sent to New Zealand, or Paris, or Hawaii."
She sucked down another sip of the scalding beverage before saying, "You know, they're saying this year is THE YEAR for the Cubbies."
He laughed. "I hope we don't stay in Penbrook long enough to see THE YEAR . I would like to leave before Hell freezes over."
"Oh, don't let anyone there hear you say that. They might sic their cows on you."
They grinned, their banter relaxing the tense moods always brought on by an assignment.
"I'll go ask the pilot when we land." He stood and passed her to exit the cabin. Her attention turned now to the child seat strapped in beside her and she saw Waverly yawn before opening her baby blue eyes, squinting the adjust to the light. She had been her guardian for a grand total of two days, but from the moment she laid eyes on her, she had been captivated by this little person. Maybe it was the pang in her heart, the ever present pain she still carried, even after four years. The pain that had had eaten away at her heart like a cancer, its blackened claws embedding themselves deeper into her fragile soul every time she saw that horrible scar, her child's legacy. It was the ache of a motherhood that had ended prematurely, replacing all of her hope and joy for the baby she carried with an emotional scar, one that she had been sure was becoming physical during the year after her resurrection, exposing its ugly face to the world. But Waverly had restored that nurturing love, and the stain on her heart was slowly dwindling, overcome by a new, pure sensation: closure.
"Good morning, Beautiful." she whispered, kissing her forehead gently as the small baby stuck her left hand into her mouth, drooling onto her fingertips. Sydney smiled, releasing the buckles to lift Waverly into her arms, and suddenly, she was reminded of a lullaby sung to her by the deep voice of an older Bristow, the words never heard by her since her mother's initial disappearance.
A voice from behind her joined the song, the melody sweet and low.
"Smile, my honey dear, as I kiss away each tear, or else I shall be melancholy too."
"We land in twenty minutes."
She smiled at him as he sat down once more.
"My dad loved that song." She stated softly.
"Jack?" he asked, eyebrows arched.
"Yea, believe it or not." They fell silent, their minds busied with the vision of Agent Bristow singing. She recalled the kind of father he had been, and what caused him to become so cold. She thought of Vaughn, and what a great father he would be, remembering coming back to the safe house to find him rocking the baby gently in his arms, an affectionate smile on his lips that was illuminated in his verdant eyes. Glowing at the prospect, she mused that one day she would carry his child again.
"Penny for your thoughts." He teased.
"We have a baby." She whispered incredulously, the revelation overcoming the pair, no words escaping them. They looked at the infant she held. The same eyes of a foe they detested looked up at them, but they were different: innocent and pure, unmarred by hatred and violence. Syd had often wondered what she would be like as a mother. After the loss of her first child, she swore that she would not bear another, knowing that it could not be his as well. But things were different now, things were better, and she knew by his words and actions in L.A. that he too mourned the baby that had been taken so cruelly.
Yet, in the midst of their new found grief, they had been given Waverly to watch after, a baby for them to raise, to love, even if it was only temporary. After CRF was taken down, Waverly would become a ward of the state, the only evidence of her foster parents being her name. She was too young, she would forget them, and would pass out of their lives like other had before. They had no way of knowing how long this mission would last, and it could be years before it was safe for Waverly to come out of hiding. They would watch her grow, care for her, only to have her taken away when the danger passed.
But Sydney wasn't thinking of any of this. No, instead she was lost in the happiness of the moment, the hope for the future. They had reached a place of bliss and near perfection.
-----
"That was the last box." Vaughn announced triumphantly, joining Syd to load the ramp back into the moving van. They watched it away, wiping sweat from their brows in Mid-June heat. To make their identities more plausible, they had spent all day outside actually moving cardboard boxes full of clothing, movies, CDs, cutlery, dishware, and books into the house in the small Illinois suburb that they were renting by the month for "as long as needed." Waverly was asleep in the bassinet hastily erected in the nursery, as Vaughn had yet to assemble the crib.
Vaughn bent slightly so he could literally swept Sydney off her feet, lifting her into the air with energy had not seemed to posses while carrying bulky wooden crib railings up a flight of stairs. She laughed at his romantic gesture, the sweetness of the sound intensifying the loving behavior.
"What are you doing?" she asked, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his right arm hugging her legs to his chest to ensure their stability.
"Is this not a threshold?" he retorted, indicating the open doorway with a small jerk of his head.
"Yes." She admitted.
"Well alright then, no more stupid questions." They stepped inside, Vaughn closing the door behind them by leaning his back against the wooden surface, his arms full of Sydney. He carried her laboriously up the stairs, not because he had difficulty lifting her, but because the soft mixture of shampoo and sweat he inhaled as she rested her head below his chin was making it hard for him to focus. They entered their new bedroom, settling onto the mattress that was placed upon the bed frame, the sheets and pillows buried in one of the many tan cubes that lined the walls of every room.
He let out an exhausted sigh. "I don't want to see another box ever again." He exclaimed as they sprawled themselves into lying positions. She lifted her head and stretched her limbs before turning to face him and closing the gap between them. He was on his back, arms raised above his head, eyes closed. She brushed a few locks of hair from his forehead before calling his name softly.
"Yea?" he answered sleepily, opening his eyes to look at her.
"You know those boxes that you never want to see again?" she questioned grimly.
"They still have to be unpacked."
---
"Cheater!"
"How did I cheat?"
"Your partner didn't jump on you were trying to smash your boulder!"
"It's not my fault you were partnered with Princess Peach."
"It's not mine!"
"Yes it is, you both landed on a red space."
"So it's my fault that the dice block was on a four when Yoshi jumped?"
"Who was it that made him jump?" she pointed out as he sulked.
They were seated on the plush maroon carpet of the front room, leaning against the oak coffee table clutching faux metallic controllers, a jar of peanut butter and a Hershey's bar on the floor between them. She broke a rectangle off of the slab of chocolate and dipped it into the jar, lifting it to his lips. He accepted this peace offering graciously, his tongue ridding her fingertips of any last traces of the sticky beige substance.
"Your turn." She reminded him, glancing back at the TV screen where a rotating die had appeared over the green dinosaur's head. They had, after a strenuous and violent battle, relieved those stubborn containers of their contents, the victorious party now celebrating with sweet indulgences that they had claimed from the clutches of their foes, who now sat stacked in the garage beside a silver Chevy Cavalier, their limp forms evidence of the struggle.
"Damn it!" Sydney swore angrily as the impudent mushroom she was playing as took its turn, landing one blue circle short of the star space. The mini-game roulette appeared on the screen as all four players, two human; two automated, had completed their turns. The flashing beam landed on the words, "Catch You Letter."
"Yes! This is the one where you chase the Russian." She cheered, sneaking a double dip into the peanut butter jar while Vaughn' eyes were on the image before them.
"It's not a Russian, it's a Shy Guy." He corrected as he flipped through the rules of the chosen game by clicking the "R" button.
"He has a red coat with a black belt over it, a blue hat, and it really pasty. He's Russian."
She pressed the grey start button, ending the conversation on her own terms.
"Hey, I didn't get to finish reading how to play!" he protested.
"Boo hoo." Came her oh-so-sympathetic answer, her gaze fixated on the game.
"Now you really are a cheater." He grumbled, maneuvering his joystick to intercept a small white rectangle meant to symbolize an envelope.
"Opportunist." She argued, her vest clad toadstool snatching a pink, heart sealed envelope just before his red saddled turtle/dinosaur mutant could.
"Hey!"
He had placed his character between hers and the "Russian" Shy Guy so that she could not deliver the letter and receive due points.
"That's not fair! Yoshi's bigger than Toad!" she whined as he blocked another of her futile attempts.
"Who said you had to be the fungus?" he answered, finally relenting, opting instead to chase the round, fanged, ghost away from a letter he wanted to retrieve. Just then, soft wailing could be heard from the nursery.
Syd paused the game, stepping over the cords that kept the silver Game Cube running.
"Don't you dare touch anything." She warned, as she headed towards the kitchen, her bare feet padding across the linoleum. She took a small plastic bottle filled with off white liquid from the refrigerator, along with a ceramic Campbell's Soup mug from the wooden cabinet. She ran the faucet until the water was hot, then filled the mug halfway, placing the formula in the substance to heat. Setting it on the counter, she let the item be as she exited the kitchen to climb the stairs, passing Vaughn as she did so, laughing as she saw that he was rooting through the plastic jar, presumably for a fragment of chocolate that had been swallowed not by his mouth, but by the sweet tan abyss.
Their bedroom was to the left, along with the adjoining bathroom. Directly ahead was an office room, then another bathroom, and finally, to the right, Waverly's room.
"Wavy" she called softly, peering through the doorway, and then stepping onto the fluffy pink carpet. It was the perfect choice for the nursery, from the floor where she stood, whose shade matched the tone of the walls and curtains, to the large window that overlooked the fenced in expanse of lush green grass that was dotted by magnolia trees in full bloom, their blossoms dusting their branches like fragrant snowflakes in the lazy breeze of the summer night.
She lifted the infant from the bassinet, trying to console her as her milk warmed. She descended the staircase with the baby in her arms, her fussing becoming less intense, but nonetheless constant, dimming from deep purple to light violet in Sydney's eyes.
Vaughn watched as she reached the kitchen, shaking the bottle free of moisture before offering it to Waverly. He felt a smile spring from his heart and form on his lips. Beneath the façade of their marriage, this house, their relation to this baby, lay the foundation of something so pure, that once the falseness and deceit were brushed aside, love was the remainder. It mattered not her true parentage, their real names, and real lives, for nothing could mar the immaculacy of this scene. This was the essence of life itself, a mother nurturing a helpless child, her beautiful, gentle soul providing warmth and light from the core of innocence within each woman: A mother's love.
