A/N: Okay, left you hanging for a little, didn't I? Well here's how the story ends...
Chapter 6
Heroes
The door swings open to his parents' home, not to the warm golden glow he remembers, but darkness and the barrel of a gun.
It surprises him how natural she looks with a gun in her hands, his mother; more natural than she ever looked working around the house.
Must be in the genes.
"William?" Her voice sounds so normal, like she's not holding a gun to her child's head. Well, maybe this is normal to her. She lowers her hands, but he notices her grip on the trigger never loosens. "You really should call before dropping in." She lays the gun gently on the table and reaches for the light switch, setting his vision on fire with the sudden brightness.
"Mom?" the word trembles in his throat. Is this real?
"Syd, honey?" his father calls as he slides around the corner, yet another gun in his hands. "Everything okay?" He stops, putting out on hand to lean heavily against the wall. "Will? What a way to-WEISS!"
Behind William's ear, Weiss raises his hand in shy greeting and steps into the room, seemingly at ease. "Hey, Mike...Nice place."
"I should have known, Eric! Should have known after what happened to my dog-"
"Don't bring the dog into this! Donovan got exactly what he deserved..."
"-that you could never be trusted with MY CHILD!"
"It wasn't my fault!" he protests feebly. "When he found out about Sydney Bristow, he wanted, no, demanded the file; I had no choice! Then, he drags us all down here..."
"And who did he hear about Sydney from?"
"Oh God." She's seen him. He looks better with his hair cut and his face scrubbed, but there's still no masking the broken look in his eyes. "Will? I-I..."
"Sydney?" He steps hesitantly inside the house. "I always knew you'd come for me." He casts a look to William standing beside him. "In a way you did."
The tears are running down her face now, her whole body shakes as she holds out a hand to this ghost in front of her, afraid he isn't real, afraid he is. "I asked and asked about you...They'd never tell me anything...I figured you were better off without me or just...just dead."
"Well," he begins indifferently, "in a way I was."
His mother stifles a scream of pain with her fist. William feels a sudden need to protect her from the stinging words of this bitter man from her past, a past he had brought right back to her doorstep. His father, though, has already taken care of that. He steps up to wrap his arms around her wracking frame, whispering in her ear to block out the words. Little by little, she straightens in the circle of his arms and tucks her hair behind her ear in a business like manner.
"We're not going to get anything done standing here...We all need a good night's rest and a little time to think." His father nods his firm agreement.
William reaches numbly and closes the door on the outside world. More time to think...He'd had enough of that during the endless plane ride. Time to think of all his happy memories, and what he had been missing the whole time. Time to think of all those looks and glances and words that had once meant nothing at all, which now where dripping with secrets. Time to think, time to get lost, burrowing in his mysteries and trying to place their answers.
When everyone else is safe in bed, he wanders the halls, lingering over pictures and trying to recall the people in them. All strangers.
His mother finds him finally collapsed in a deadened heap on the couch. "Can't sleep?" she murmurs softly, in a voice he can almost remember. But does it really mean the same thing now? One hand places itself cautiously between his shoulder blades, rubbing comforting circles.
"Why didn't you tell me? Even when I was a spy, too?" he suddenly needs the answer, no more delaying the truth.
"Ah, William, baby, you've got to understand. Your father and I, we had so many people to protect: your sisters, Francie-Aunt Belle-countless other people who you can never even know, and yes, you too. Oh, and how selfish it sounds, but us. We gave up a lot to have this, to have you...Surely Weiss's told you the story by now. It's hard to let that go."
The silence stretches over them like a blanket. Yes, he can see it now. All they'd given, all they'd taken, all they deserve. And he might destroy it by being so thoughtless.
"I'm so sorry, Mom. I've brought all this terrible stuff right back to you..."
"Don't worry about it, please don't. It all would have found me again, silly to think I could ever escape. It's better to face it with my family."
"Can you tell me just one last thing...Am I named for-for him?"
Wordlessly, she gets up, crossing the room. At first, he thinks he's offended her somehow, but she stands on tiptoe next to the bookcase, running her fingers along the top until she finds what she wants. She comes back, laying the photo album across both their laps, flipping to the last page.
On the left side, he recognizes baby pictures of himself and his sisters. On the right side, next to each child's picture, is the image of a stranger. Beneath each of the three sets of photos is written one word in beautiful scrawling handwriting: Innocence, Forgiveness, and Heroes.
Her finger traces across his sister Emily's face to the woman pasted beside her. "Surely working with SD-6 you've heard of Arvin Sloane; well, this was his wife, Emily. Emily was the closest thing I had to a mother for a long time...Emily is for Innocence."
Next are his sister Laura and a beautiful, alien woman, who's obviously been cut from a larger photograph. "My real mother, Laura Bristow, or Irina Derevko, KGB. Laura is for Forgiveness."
Her finger finishes its swirls to stop on the oldest picture, tapping it lightly. "This is your father's father, William Vaughn. In one of those ironic twists of fate, my mother killed him, but he still died for his country and what he believed unshakably in. William is for Heroes, past and present."
The book closes with a snap, and she moves to return it. She pauses one last time in the middle of the room, hands on hips. "I hope that was enough of a bedtime story for you. Now get some sleep!"
* * * * * * * * * * *
His mother, Aunt Belle, and Tippin are deep in conversation when he wakes in the morning, clinging to their steaming cups of coffee and trying to hide their tears over their mugs.
William expertly avoids them, sliding quietly into the sunny kitchen where his father is reading the newspaper. Or at least pretending to, since he lingers a bit too long over the page he's reading. Weiss is slumped in the chair next to him, looking beaten, probably from some early morning tongue-lashing.
"You really don't eat enough, Will." He doesn't even look up where his son is closing the refrigerator; just folds back another page. William flashes him a brilliant smile and continues to nurse his glass of orange juice.
Glass shatters.
They're all on their feet before they know what's happening, all running for the living room. Inside, there's chaos. One of the windows in splayed in a glittering arc across the carpet, reflecting the warm sun; Aunt Belle is clinging to Will, who looks ancient and resigned to his fate; and his mother...
His mother lands the last blow to man with a frightening precision. He crashes bonelessly to the floor, unconscious. It's only then that William remembers there's no one to protect anymore, his mother can take care of herself.
"Do you think they've found us, Vaughn?" her voice echoes uncannily with the undertone of his heart beating rapidly.
His father runs a hand through his hair. "We'll have to question him when he wakes up, find out who he was sent for."
His mother relaxes minutely. "One assassin, only one. I don't think they know, or they would have sent more. They must be tracking Will somehow, though, if they don't even know about William..."
"Take it one step at a time, honey. We can't just jump to conclusions...Tie him up first, clean up the glass..."
It turned out that, from what they could get out of the assassin, SD-6 knew nothing about Christophe, Juliette, or William Dupont. Nothing about Sydney Bristow or Michael Vaughn. They kept him in the underground cellar, despite Weiss's insistence that they call in the CIA. There were too many people involved already; the CIA would only complicate things. Maybe they'd call tomorrow or the day after that, just not now.
They all slept fitfully that night after a long, anxious day, crowded into the house for safety and comfort. They even set up guard shifts. William volunteered for two, the most his mother would let him take, pacing restlessly.
Sometime during the night, Will Tippin left.
They find his note in the morning, propped up so they can't miss it. His father reads it to the group because his mother's voice is shaking too much. Aunt Belle holds onto her arm while he and Weiss cast guilty glances at each other across the room.
"Dear Sydney,
"By the time you get this, I hope to be far, far away from you. This, you see, is the only way I can thank you for your unfailing kindness and friendship. I hate to think that the only way I have shown my gratitude to you is by bringing danger so near to your beautiful family. Distance, is my first gift to you.
"This is my second: I hope I have the pleasure of being the first to inform you that because of the information I was able to provide the CIA with, every last branch of SD-6 with soon fall. All these years, and you and your son have finally done it. My sincerest congratulations.
"Take care of yourselves and each other, since we get no better rewards.
"-Will Tippin."
William looks to his mother, but she is smiling with a glowing sort of joy. "I don't understand...He-He leaves just when he can become the hero that brought down SD-6?"
"There a different types of heroes, William, you should know that." She gets up to take his hands, trying to communicate her happiness. "There are heroes like Will, or even you and me, who people will never hear of because we save more lives that way; we work quietly and we live quietly, none of the smoke and mirrors of the media. We are real. And I, personally, think that's the best type."
"So what are you going to do now that SD-6 is gone?" his father asks coming up beside them to gently lay a hand across his mother's shoulders.
"Retire." Weiss blushes when he realizes he wasn't being asked.
"The CIA has offered me a nice comfortable desk job." He look at his father, who quirks his mouth in an odd sort of grin. William squirms a little uncomfortably, worried about broaching the subject, "And there's this girl..."
"Go for it." His father laughs as his mother gives a conspiratorial smile.
This is his family. He wonders how he ever thought it was possible not love these people.
Several weeks later, when the last of SD-6 falls to CIA raids, they burn the letter; burn the last evidence that a man named Will Tippin ever existed.
It's hard lesson to learn, but sometimes it's better that way.
The End...Or Is It Really Ever Over?
Chapter 6
Heroes
The door swings open to his parents' home, not to the warm golden glow he remembers, but darkness and the barrel of a gun.
It surprises him how natural she looks with a gun in her hands, his mother; more natural than she ever looked working around the house.
Must be in the genes.
"William?" Her voice sounds so normal, like she's not holding a gun to her child's head. Well, maybe this is normal to her. She lowers her hands, but he notices her grip on the trigger never loosens. "You really should call before dropping in." She lays the gun gently on the table and reaches for the light switch, setting his vision on fire with the sudden brightness.
"Mom?" the word trembles in his throat. Is this real?
"Syd, honey?" his father calls as he slides around the corner, yet another gun in his hands. "Everything okay?" He stops, putting out on hand to lean heavily against the wall. "Will? What a way to-WEISS!"
Behind William's ear, Weiss raises his hand in shy greeting and steps into the room, seemingly at ease. "Hey, Mike...Nice place."
"I should have known, Eric! Should have known after what happened to my dog-"
"Don't bring the dog into this! Donovan got exactly what he deserved..."
"-that you could never be trusted with MY CHILD!"
"It wasn't my fault!" he protests feebly. "When he found out about Sydney Bristow, he wanted, no, demanded the file; I had no choice! Then, he drags us all down here..."
"And who did he hear about Sydney from?"
"Oh God." She's seen him. He looks better with his hair cut and his face scrubbed, but there's still no masking the broken look in his eyes. "Will? I-I..."
"Sydney?" He steps hesitantly inside the house. "I always knew you'd come for me." He casts a look to William standing beside him. "In a way you did."
The tears are running down her face now, her whole body shakes as she holds out a hand to this ghost in front of her, afraid he isn't real, afraid he is. "I asked and asked about you...They'd never tell me anything...I figured you were better off without me or just...just dead."
"Well," he begins indifferently, "in a way I was."
His mother stifles a scream of pain with her fist. William feels a sudden need to protect her from the stinging words of this bitter man from her past, a past he had brought right back to her doorstep. His father, though, has already taken care of that. He steps up to wrap his arms around her wracking frame, whispering in her ear to block out the words. Little by little, she straightens in the circle of his arms and tucks her hair behind her ear in a business like manner.
"We're not going to get anything done standing here...We all need a good night's rest and a little time to think." His father nods his firm agreement.
William reaches numbly and closes the door on the outside world. More time to think...He'd had enough of that during the endless plane ride. Time to think of all his happy memories, and what he had been missing the whole time. Time to think of all those looks and glances and words that had once meant nothing at all, which now where dripping with secrets. Time to think, time to get lost, burrowing in his mysteries and trying to place their answers.
When everyone else is safe in bed, he wanders the halls, lingering over pictures and trying to recall the people in them. All strangers.
His mother finds him finally collapsed in a deadened heap on the couch. "Can't sleep?" she murmurs softly, in a voice he can almost remember. But does it really mean the same thing now? One hand places itself cautiously between his shoulder blades, rubbing comforting circles.
"Why didn't you tell me? Even when I was a spy, too?" he suddenly needs the answer, no more delaying the truth.
"Ah, William, baby, you've got to understand. Your father and I, we had so many people to protect: your sisters, Francie-Aunt Belle-countless other people who you can never even know, and yes, you too. Oh, and how selfish it sounds, but us. We gave up a lot to have this, to have you...Surely Weiss's told you the story by now. It's hard to let that go."
The silence stretches over them like a blanket. Yes, he can see it now. All they'd given, all they'd taken, all they deserve. And he might destroy it by being so thoughtless.
"I'm so sorry, Mom. I've brought all this terrible stuff right back to you..."
"Don't worry about it, please don't. It all would have found me again, silly to think I could ever escape. It's better to face it with my family."
"Can you tell me just one last thing...Am I named for-for him?"
Wordlessly, she gets up, crossing the room. At first, he thinks he's offended her somehow, but she stands on tiptoe next to the bookcase, running her fingers along the top until she finds what she wants. She comes back, laying the photo album across both their laps, flipping to the last page.
On the left side, he recognizes baby pictures of himself and his sisters. On the right side, next to each child's picture, is the image of a stranger. Beneath each of the three sets of photos is written one word in beautiful scrawling handwriting: Innocence, Forgiveness, and Heroes.
Her finger traces across his sister Emily's face to the woman pasted beside her. "Surely working with SD-6 you've heard of Arvin Sloane; well, this was his wife, Emily. Emily was the closest thing I had to a mother for a long time...Emily is for Innocence."
Next are his sister Laura and a beautiful, alien woman, who's obviously been cut from a larger photograph. "My real mother, Laura Bristow, or Irina Derevko, KGB. Laura is for Forgiveness."
Her finger finishes its swirls to stop on the oldest picture, tapping it lightly. "This is your father's father, William Vaughn. In one of those ironic twists of fate, my mother killed him, but he still died for his country and what he believed unshakably in. William is for Heroes, past and present."
The book closes with a snap, and she moves to return it. She pauses one last time in the middle of the room, hands on hips. "I hope that was enough of a bedtime story for you. Now get some sleep!"
* * * * * * * * * * *
His mother, Aunt Belle, and Tippin are deep in conversation when he wakes in the morning, clinging to their steaming cups of coffee and trying to hide their tears over their mugs.
William expertly avoids them, sliding quietly into the sunny kitchen where his father is reading the newspaper. Or at least pretending to, since he lingers a bit too long over the page he's reading. Weiss is slumped in the chair next to him, looking beaten, probably from some early morning tongue-lashing.
"You really don't eat enough, Will." He doesn't even look up where his son is closing the refrigerator; just folds back another page. William flashes him a brilliant smile and continues to nurse his glass of orange juice.
Glass shatters.
They're all on their feet before they know what's happening, all running for the living room. Inside, there's chaos. One of the windows in splayed in a glittering arc across the carpet, reflecting the warm sun; Aunt Belle is clinging to Will, who looks ancient and resigned to his fate; and his mother...
His mother lands the last blow to man with a frightening precision. He crashes bonelessly to the floor, unconscious. It's only then that William remembers there's no one to protect anymore, his mother can take care of herself.
"Do you think they've found us, Vaughn?" her voice echoes uncannily with the undertone of his heart beating rapidly.
His father runs a hand through his hair. "We'll have to question him when he wakes up, find out who he was sent for."
His mother relaxes minutely. "One assassin, only one. I don't think they know, or they would have sent more. They must be tracking Will somehow, though, if they don't even know about William..."
"Take it one step at a time, honey. We can't just jump to conclusions...Tie him up first, clean up the glass..."
It turned out that, from what they could get out of the assassin, SD-6 knew nothing about Christophe, Juliette, or William Dupont. Nothing about Sydney Bristow or Michael Vaughn. They kept him in the underground cellar, despite Weiss's insistence that they call in the CIA. There were too many people involved already; the CIA would only complicate things. Maybe they'd call tomorrow or the day after that, just not now.
They all slept fitfully that night after a long, anxious day, crowded into the house for safety and comfort. They even set up guard shifts. William volunteered for two, the most his mother would let him take, pacing restlessly.
Sometime during the night, Will Tippin left.
They find his note in the morning, propped up so they can't miss it. His father reads it to the group because his mother's voice is shaking too much. Aunt Belle holds onto her arm while he and Weiss cast guilty glances at each other across the room.
"Dear Sydney,
"By the time you get this, I hope to be far, far away from you. This, you see, is the only way I can thank you for your unfailing kindness and friendship. I hate to think that the only way I have shown my gratitude to you is by bringing danger so near to your beautiful family. Distance, is my first gift to you.
"This is my second: I hope I have the pleasure of being the first to inform you that because of the information I was able to provide the CIA with, every last branch of SD-6 with soon fall. All these years, and you and your son have finally done it. My sincerest congratulations.
"Take care of yourselves and each other, since we get no better rewards.
"-Will Tippin."
William looks to his mother, but she is smiling with a glowing sort of joy. "I don't understand...He-He leaves just when he can become the hero that brought down SD-6?"
"There a different types of heroes, William, you should know that." She gets up to take his hands, trying to communicate her happiness. "There are heroes like Will, or even you and me, who people will never hear of because we save more lives that way; we work quietly and we live quietly, none of the smoke and mirrors of the media. We are real. And I, personally, think that's the best type."
"So what are you going to do now that SD-6 is gone?" his father asks coming up beside them to gently lay a hand across his mother's shoulders.
"Retire." Weiss blushes when he realizes he wasn't being asked.
"The CIA has offered me a nice comfortable desk job." He look at his father, who quirks his mouth in an odd sort of grin. William squirms a little uncomfortably, worried about broaching the subject, "And there's this girl..."
"Go for it." His father laughs as his mother gives a conspiratorial smile.
This is his family. He wonders how he ever thought it was possible not love these people.
Several weeks later, when the last of SD-6 falls to CIA raids, they burn the letter; burn the last evidence that a man named Will Tippin ever existed.
It's hard lesson to learn, but sometimes it's better that way.
The End...Or Is It Really Ever Over?