Serious spoilers for The Ampule here, so don't read unless you have read
them first.
This is Lula Ripley, now writing as aliciawrites. Hope you enjoy this.
I don't have any rights to these characters. They are the brainchild of the genius, JJ Abrahms. This is but homage to his brilliance.
Read and Review – thank you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
THE MOMENT
Whether or not her mother was alive, one thing was certain. She had loved her daughter. Sydney had gotten so accustomed to the fact that she had been nothing but a convenient cover to her maternal figure, that the bulk of the shock had still not managed to penetrate her tough emotional barrier.
Yet the evidence was clear, painfully clear. Laura Bristow had begged to be allowed to love her family, innocently. As innocently as a possible for a woman who had been responsible for such unspeakable acts. Yet, didn't Sydney do unspeakable things daily? Do not judge, lest you be judged, Syd.
Khasinau refused her. Refused her request and then beat her within breaths of life. Laura, only taking back her appeal after he threatened to do the same to her daughter, to Sydney. So she continued as a KGB agent to save her life. The exterior was starting to crack.
Deep in her heart she now realized she had known it all along. There was something loving in that embrace she recalled. There was the soothing tone of a mother's lullaby. There was the tender care of a concerned parent when she took a fall and scraped her knee. Those things were too personal to be fabricated for the sake of a cover. They had been true. They had been real.
Her insides screamed for that comfort now. Her father was incapable of it. Not that he didn't love her. She knew he did. But right now he was battling his own inner demons and memories of a wife he had long ago buried as a traitor.
Sydney picked up the phone and stared the mocking digits. He had once before told her he would be there for her, anytime she needed to talk. He was the only one she could reveal all to, the only one who she could tell the whole truth and the only one she wanted to know. Noah was a good man, but somehow she knew his compassion could not equal this man's. The man who had come to understand her every emotion… or at least the ones she didn't hide away from him.
"Hello?" the groggy voice said.
"Can you meet me?" she whispered.
"When and where?" he asked briskly.
It was obvious she had woken him and she could hear him sitting up in bed. There was a catch in his breath as he sat upright with amazing speed.
"The usual. Twenty minutes."
"I'm on my way," he confirmed. The line went dead. Soon she could cry. Soon he would give her the strength to grieve again.
When he entered the warehouse she was already sitting in their spot. Whatever it was, it was devastating. He'd never seen her face so pale. She was always so good at hiding her fear, or at least concealing it…even though he always knew. This time there was no mask. The pain was etched on her cheeks and in the shadow beneath her slightly swollen eyes.
"Sydney?" She looked up and the pain hit him like a bullet to the chest. "What is it?"
"I called because you were the only one I could tell," she sobbed. "The only one who would understand and who I didn't have to hide it from… but… on the way over here I realized… I can't talk to you. I can't make you suffer."
"Suffer?" He crossed to her so that they were only a few feet apart. "Sydney, whatever you need to say, I promise you I'll hear it. I'll be there. Didn't I always promise you that?"
"This is big, Vaughn. This is … here." Her clenched fist gently thumped at her chest and then reached out and touched his own.
"Your mother," he said, quietly.
"Yes," she said and bit her lip to keep the tears at bay.
He gently took her by the shoulders and moved her to the side of the crate on which she sat, so that he could sit along side her. As he settled in, he put his arm around her and pulled her head to his shoulder. "Whatever it is, Sydney, you can tell me. I want you to."
He felt a heavy sigh escape her body and he knew she was letting go of her misgivings. "Go on."
"Tonight, I was passed information I thought to be part of the Khasinau mystery."
"The CD." He knew she was obtaining a disc for SD-6.
"Yes, except, I don't think it was meant to be for SD-6. I think it was meant for my Dad and me. Khasinau wanted us to see the price of betrayal."
He said nothing, but made his support known. His arm tightened around her, his fingers slowly gliding over the satin of her shirt.
"It was an interrogation. My mother's interrogation. She was begging him to let her go. She wanted to give up the business. She said…" A sob broke through. "She said she wanted to be a mother and a wife." Sydney wiped at the tears that were steadily making their way passed her cheeks. "She said she had fallen in love with dad…with me."
Vaughn touched her chin and lifted it until he could see her eyes, shining through the pools of yet-to-be shed tears. "How could she not?" As she dipped her head back into his chest, perhaps a bit flustered by his comment, he pulled her in tighter. He was flustered to…he all but admitted he'd fallen under the same spell. The spell was sealed as her arm snaked around him and held fast in response.
"They beat her Michael. It was horrible, but she never stopped begging to be free. Never until he threatened me."
"She was protecting you."
Sydney nodded silently.
"She loved you, Sydney. You weren't just an object, a mask for her to wear. You were her daughter and she loved you."
Sydney pulled away and looked up at him, a fresh sadness washing over her. "She still killed your father. My loving mother murdered your father, Vaughn."
"Hey," he smoothed her hair. "There are two things I'm certain of. One, there are many things we don't know yet. And two, you called me Michael tonight."
Sydney sat up and sobered a little. "No, I didn't."
He smiled and nodded, matter-of-factly. "You did."
"I was… I didn't know what I was saying." She smirked.
He loved seeing her like this. The life returning to her eyes.
"Say it again," he asked.
She laughed softly and shook her head. "Agent Vaughn you are trying to stir up trouble."
"Say it." He pulled at a ribbon of her chestnut hair. It was meant to be playful, but the soft silk of it in his hands was hypnotic. His fingers took the length of it slowly until they reached the ends. When the strands came loose, his finger found a sweeter softness in the curve of her cheek. "Say it," he whispered.
"Michael."
He watched her lips form those syllables. A word he had heard hundreds of thousands of times in the course of his life, but never did it sound just the way it had now. As if he was hearing it for the first time.
Without a care for consequence, he dropped his head until his mouth was inches from hers. "Again," he asked.
"Michael."
His lips hovered over hers as she formed his name, then came to rest firmly upon them. The lingering taste of salt from her tears blended with the delicate moisture of her mouth. He pressed them with greater need and he felt them part for him. His hand moved to the back of her head, entangled in that luxury of chestnut silk, pulling her closer.
How could something so potent be so exquisitely gentle? That was his Sydney. A brilliant mixture of steel and rose petals. From today on, he knew there was only one thing he now knew for certain. Life was never going to be the same.
This is Lula Ripley, now writing as aliciawrites. Hope you enjoy this.
I don't have any rights to these characters. They are the brainchild of the genius, JJ Abrahms. This is but homage to his brilliance.
Read and Review – thank you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
THE MOMENT
Whether or not her mother was alive, one thing was certain. She had loved her daughter. Sydney had gotten so accustomed to the fact that she had been nothing but a convenient cover to her maternal figure, that the bulk of the shock had still not managed to penetrate her tough emotional barrier.
Yet the evidence was clear, painfully clear. Laura Bristow had begged to be allowed to love her family, innocently. As innocently as a possible for a woman who had been responsible for such unspeakable acts. Yet, didn't Sydney do unspeakable things daily? Do not judge, lest you be judged, Syd.
Khasinau refused her. Refused her request and then beat her within breaths of life. Laura, only taking back her appeal after he threatened to do the same to her daughter, to Sydney. So she continued as a KGB agent to save her life. The exterior was starting to crack.
Deep in her heart she now realized she had known it all along. There was something loving in that embrace she recalled. There was the soothing tone of a mother's lullaby. There was the tender care of a concerned parent when she took a fall and scraped her knee. Those things were too personal to be fabricated for the sake of a cover. They had been true. They had been real.
Her insides screamed for that comfort now. Her father was incapable of it. Not that he didn't love her. She knew he did. But right now he was battling his own inner demons and memories of a wife he had long ago buried as a traitor.
Sydney picked up the phone and stared the mocking digits. He had once before told her he would be there for her, anytime she needed to talk. He was the only one she could reveal all to, the only one who she could tell the whole truth and the only one she wanted to know. Noah was a good man, but somehow she knew his compassion could not equal this man's. The man who had come to understand her every emotion… or at least the ones she didn't hide away from him.
"Hello?" the groggy voice said.
"Can you meet me?" she whispered.
"When and where?" he asked briskly.
It was obvious she had woken him and she could hear him sitting up in bed. There was a catch in his breath as he sat upright with amazing speed.
"The usual. Twenty minutes."
"I'm on my way," he confirmed. The line went dead. Soon she could cry. Soon he would give her the strength to grieve again.
When he entered the warehouse she was already sitting in their spot. Whatever it was, it was devastating. He'd never seen her face so pale. She was always so good at hiding her fear, or at least concealing it…even though he always knew. This time there was no mask. The pain was etched on her cheeks and in the shadow beneath her slightly swollen eyes.
"Sydney?" She looked up and the pain hit him like a bullet to the chest. "What is it?"
"I called because you were the only one I could tell," she sobbed. "The only one who would understand and who I didn't have to hide it from… but… on the way over here I realized… I can't talk to you. I can't make you suffer."
"Suffer?" He crossed to her so that they were only a few feet apart. "Sydney, whatever you need to say, I promise you I'll hear it. I'll be there. Didn't I always promise you that?"
"This is big, Vaughn. This is … here." Her clenched fist gently thumped at her chest and then reached out and touched his own.
"Your mother," he said, quietly.
"Yes," she said and bit her lip to keep the tears at bay.
He gently took her by the shoulders and moved her to the side of the crate on which she sat, so that he could sit along side her. As he settled in, he put his arm around her and pulled her head to his shoulder. "Whatever it is, Sydney, you can tell me. I want you to."
He felt a heavy sigh escape her body and he knew she was letting go of her misgivings. "Go on."
"Tonight, I was passed information I thought to be part of the Khasinau mystery."
"The CD." He knew she was obtaining a disc for SD-6.
"Yes, except, I don't think it was meant to be for SD-6. I think it was meant for my Dad and me. Khasinau wanted us to see the price of betrayal."
He said nothing, but made his support known. His arm tightened around her, his fingers slowly gliding over the satin of her shirt.
"It was an interrogation. My mother's interrogation. She was begging him to let her go. She wanted to give up the business. She said…" A sob broke through. "She said she wanted to be a mother and a wife." Sydney wiped at the tears that were steadily making their way passed her cheeks. "She said she had fallen in love with dad…with me."
Vaughn touched her chin and lifted it until he could see her eyes, shining through the pools of yet-to-be shed tears. "How could she not?" As she dipped her head back into his chest, perhaps a bit flustered by his comment, he pulled her in tighter. He was flustered to…he all but admitted he'd fallen under the same spell. The spell was sealed as her arm snaked around him and held fast in response.
"They beat her Michael. It was horrible, but she never stopped begging to be free. Never until he threatened me."
"She was protecting you."
Sydney nodded silently.
"She loved you, Sydney. You weren't just an object, a mask for her to wear. You were her daughter and she loved you."
Sydney pulled away and looked up at him, a fresh sadness washing over her. "She still killed your father. My loving mother murdered your father, Vaughn."
"Hey," he smoothed her hair. "There are two things I'm certain of. One, there are many things we don't know yet. And two, you called me Michael tonight."
Sydney sat up and sobered a little. "No, I didn't."
He smiled and nodded, matter-of-factly. "You did."
"I was… I didn't know what I was saying." She smirked.
He loved seeing her like this. The life returning to her eyes.
"Say it again," he asked.
She laughed softly and shook her head. "Agent Vaughn you are trying to stir up trouble."
"Say it." He pulled at a ribbon of her chestnut hair. It was meant to be playful, but the soft silk of it in his hands was hypnotic. His fingers took the length of it slowly until they reached the ends. When the strands came loose, his finger found a sweeter softness in the curve of her cheek. "Say it," he whispered.
"Michael."
He watched her lips form those syllables. A word he had heard hundreds of thousands of times in the course of his life, but never did it sound just the way it had now. As if he was hearing it for the first time.
Without a care for consequence, he dropped his head until his mouth was inches from hers. "Again," he asked.
"Michael."
His lips hovered over hers as she formed his name, then came to rest firmly upon them. The lingering taste of salt from her tears blended with the delicate moisture of her mouth. He pressed them with greater need and he felt them part for him. His hand moved to the back of her head, entangled in that luxury of chestnut silk, pulling her closer.
How could something so potent be so exquisitely gentle? That was his Sydney. A brilliant mixture of steel and rose petals. From today on, he knew there was only one thing he now knew for certain. Life was never going to be the same.