Shattered Paradise

Chapter 8: Those Three Little Words

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys…Thanks, Michelle, for not throwing anything. Good thing I put that line in there…Jen, you found The Dream, right?…Dreams are lots of fun, crasygrl. You can write whatever you want in them…And now, for the chapter. Nothing scary this time, I promise…

She moved and it woke him. It was gentle this time, stretching, turning, changing positions. Quite a switch from the last time she had awakened him. But that was because it was morning now; the sun was out, dancing on their bedroom floor.

When she's kicking and thrashing, whimpering and crying, screaming for mercy…that's when it's dark. When he fears the blackness will swallow him up, will take her away from him, will leave him with nothing to live for.

He loosened his hold on her, allowing her to turn and face him. She flashed him that sweet smile. The one filled with sugar and sunshine. The one that leaves him breathless. The one that almost makes him forget…

"Morning, Michael," she murmured, and her voice almost makes him forget, too.

"Hey," he replied softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

But when he looked into her eyes, he knew he couldn't forget. Beneath the glitter of happiness, haunting that sparkle of life, was the fear, the worry.

He saw it, but didn't say a word. That fear and the dark circles that lie beneath her eyes are the last remnants of her nightmares. The only hints that she has had to endure months of terror and nearly sleepless nights.

He knew that his eyes must look the same, if not worse. She seemed to sense what he was thinking, and as her eyes glanced up to his own, he saw a flash of guilt and worry.

"Michael…" she whispered, bringing a gentle finger up to the skin around his eye. "I'm so sorry."

He moved his lips to tell her not to…Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…but her finger brushed up against his skin, and he suddenly realized that she wasn't just apologizing for keeping him awake.

Even the slight pressure of her finger on his tender, swollen flesh caused pain. Most nights, he was prepared, but last night, he hadn't been able to dodge her desperate, angry fists. He had forgotten, but he remembered now. He would remember every time he looked in the mirror, every time someone gave him a strange look.

No one knew the real reason he had so many black eyes and bruises. Not a soul. He had a feeling that a few suspected, but no one really knew. At least at work, there weren't any jokes or whispered rumors. They knew that his wife could kick his ass if she wanted to. But they also knew that she never would. Most of them did, anyway, the ones that mattered. He didn't care about the rest.

He gave her a small smile. "Don't worry about it," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I know you like to show me who's the boss in bed."

He thought he could see the beginnings of a smile playing on her lips, but she wasn't ready to let go of the seriousness just yet. "You can hit me back, you know, defend yourself, at least. It would make it a little more fair…"

"Syd, I would never hit you." Never ever. Not in a million years, in a billion lifetimes. Not if his life depended on it…

"And I'd never hit you either, Mike." Her eyes were pleading with him, her voice dripping with guilt and sorrow. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do." He had known it the first time it had ever happened. It was never him she was thrashing out at, defending herself against. Never.

"How did I get so lucky?" she asked, sighing.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he replied, leaning over to kiss her gently. "I love you."

"I love…" Sydney began, and then stopped, bringing a hand to her stomach, her eyes growing wide. "The baby, Michael," she whispered.

He became worried, but just for a moment. Because then she finally smiled, her face lighting up brighter than the sun. "It's kicking."

He had felt it before, but it never ceased to amaze him. Sydney's contagious smile spread to his face. "Where?" he murmured breathlessly.

"Here," she said, taking his hand in her own and guiding it underneath her shirt. She placed it against her smooth skin, keeping her hand on top of his.

A flicker of pressure, there and gone. Back again, barely there, but he could feel it. That was his baby in there. His and Sydney's. Soon those little feet were going to be pitter pattering all over the house…

"Do you feel it?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Vaughn could only nod, tears of happiness collecting in his eyes, making everything hazy. He blinked them away. "Keep your hand there," he said, sliding his hand out from under hers.

Smiling, she did as he told her and watched as he lifted her shirt further, and brought his face down to her tummy.

He brought his lips down to Sydney's fingers, gently pushing her hand out of the way and holding it in one of his. He placed a tender kiss on the spot where her fingers had been

"Hi little baby," Vaughn murmured, his voice becoming soft and gentle. "Daddy loves you already." He glanced up at Sydney, who was watching him with tears in her eyes. He loved more than anything, these simple moments that they spent together. He wished he could live a lifetime of these moments…

"And Mommy does, too," he added, kissing the spot once again before bringing his lips up to Sydney's. Slowly drinking in vanilla sweetness and tender love.

"Have you been thinking, Mike?" Sydney asked him when he pulled away.

"That depends," Vaughn answered with a smile. "About what?"

"Names. We can't call him little baby forever."

He shrugged. "Little Baby Vaughn. It has a nice ring to it."

Sydney laughed. God, he loved that sound. "Our child will probably not appreciate that when he or she gets older…"

Vaughn nodded. "Kids can be cruel. They'd have a field day with that one…I have been thinking, Syd, but I can't think of anything that'll fit. It has to be just right. Perfect, you know?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "But we'd better think of a name soon. We don't have much time."

How long did they have now? Seven weeks? Six? He still couldn't believe it.

"I know," he replied. "I can't wait."

Silence. Unbearable in the wrong situation, but beautiful when he was with her. Comforting and tranquil. Just right.

She gazed at him intently, finally breaking the silence with a whisper. "I hope the baby has your eyes."

"And your nose," he replied, smiling and bringing his face closer to hers.

"And your dimples."

"Or yours…" he responded, kissing her dimples away.

Sydney sighed, deepening the kiss, but for just a moment, before gently pushing him away.

"Hey, that's not…"

"Mike," she said simply, bringing a finger to his lips to interrupt his protest. "You have to go."

"Where?" He thought she was kidding; he honestly didn't know.

"To the airport." she said, grinning at the confusion she could clearly see on his face. "To pick up your aunt…"

"Oh, shit!" Vaughn cried, pulling away. "Why the hell does she have to come so damn early anyway?!"

"Shhh, Michael. Calm down!"

"But…"

"No, Mike…" she said, bringing a hand up to the side of his face. He leaned into her touch, as she continued. "She probably just wants to make sure she's here for when the baby's born. She felt so bad when she had to miss the wedding, and at least she'll get to be here for the baby shower…"

"But the baby's not due for weeks…"

Sydney smiled, "I know, and you told her that, remember? But she insisted. Besides, it's not like she's staying here or anything. You just have to pick her up and spend a few days with her. She's staying with your mother. Mom's the one who should be complaining."

"I know," he sighed, getting out of bed to get ready.

"Besides, she can't be that bad."

Vaughn gave Sydney a look, which clearly showed that he knew otherwise. "You don't know my aunt."

"Come on, Mike. You can handle it…" she said, her eyes twinkling as she emphasized the word. "After all, you handled me for years, you're ready for anything…"

"That's not fair, Syd!" Vaughn pouted, running back to her side. "Reminding me of that, just as I have to leave…"

"Go!" she shouted, laughing and pointing to the door.

And he did, but not until fifteen minutes later, after he felt she had been thoroughly kissed.

Vaughn was standing in the airport bookstore, paying for his purchase. When he had finished, he turned around and found himself face to face with an angry security guard.

"Does this belong to you?" the security guard growled, gesturing toward a wildly dressed, older woman, whose shoulder he had a firm grip on.

"Aunt Trish," Vaughn sighed, glancing at his watch. "I didn't think your plane landed for another twenty minutes."

"It arrived early," the guard hissed, letting go of Trish's shoulder and giving Vaughn an icy stare. "You should pay attention to the flight schedule."

"What did you do?" Vaughn asked, as he watched the security guard stomp away.

"Hello to you, too, Michael. You haven't seen me for years and this is the greeting I get? Who taught you your manners?"

"My mother," he answered absently.

"Ah, that explains it," Trish said, giving him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. "And why weren't you there to get me off the plane?"

"I had to get something and I didn't think you were coming for…"

Trish snatched the book out of his hand. "Baby names…Michael, do you have something to tell me?"

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "You already know, Aunt Trish. That's why you're here, remember?"

"Ah, yes. Of course. I have such a hard time remembering things sometimes. Except for names. I never forget a name, Michael. Remember that."

"I will," he assured her. "Do you have your luggage?"

"Right here," she said, gesturing to a small suitcase sitting on the floor beside her. "I always carry on, dear. You never know what sort of evil things will find their way into your baggage when you're not watching…"

"Okay, Aunt Trish," Vaughn sighed, deciding not to ask how she was going to last so many weeks with what was in that one small bag. "Let's go."

"So," Trish began, as they made their way through the busy airport. "How is…Cindy, is it?"

"No. It's Sydney."

Trish was quiet. But just for a moment, because as quickly as it came, the moment passed, and words were once again pouring from her mouth. Vaughn was only half listening; his other half was kicking himself for not bringing any earplugs.

"Now, I always knew you were the bold one, but…" She paused and placed a hand on his arm. "Michael, dear…You married a man?"

"What?!" Vaughn stopped in his tracks. "No! Aunt Trish, my wife's name is Sydney. God…" Flustered, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you have a picture?" Of course. Photographic evidence. Aunt Trish wouldn't settle for anything less.

"Yeah," he muttered, pulling out his wallet. It opened to the picture of him and Sydney the day they had moved in to their new house. She was sitting in his lap on the porch steps, bright smiles lighting up both their faces. But, as it happened in most of their pictures, neither of them were looking at the camera. They had been so happy then, so carefree…

"Here," he said, showing his aunt the picture.

"She's a woman," Trish stated, nodding. Without warning, she threw her arms around him, her voice raising to a volume that Vaughn was sure even deaf people could hear. "Michael, I'm so glad you married a woman!"

Vaughn felt his face turning a deep shade of red. He had thus far managed to ignore the strange looks others were giving him, but it was difficult to keep his mind off the snickering, laughing, whispering, pointing, and staring all at the same time.

"And she's a pretty one, too."

He definitely didn't need his aunt to tell him that one. Sydney was gorgeous; he had known it the first day he met her, and he reminded her of it everyday.

"Thanks, Aunt Trish. Now can we go, please?" The airport was too tempting a place. It would just be so easy to buy a one-way ticket and accidentally guide his aunt onto a plane…

"Of course. You know, your Uncle Harold has great taste in women. Just the other day, he told me…"

"Uncle Harold's been dead for fifteen years." At least. God, it was probably more like twenty…

"Maybe to you, dear. If you'd only take the time to…"

He should have known. "Never mind, Aunt Trish. Never mind."

This was going to be one hell of a long day, he knew that. What he didn't know, was that it was going to be so much longer than he anticipated…

"Sydney!" Vaughn shouted into his cell. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she laughed into his ear. "I can hear you, Mike. Loud and clear."

"Sorry, this is usually a bad area. We're on our way home. We'll be there in about half an hour. You need anything?"

"No…It's hot as hell out here, you know."

That's all it took for his forehead to crinkle with concern. "Where are you?"

"On the back porch," she answered simply.

"Syd, it's like a hundred degrees in the shade. Go inside…"

"Let me talk to Sandy," Trish interrupted, reaching for the phone.

"Sydney," Vaughn corrected her.

"What?" Sydney asked.

"No, I was talking to…Whoa, what the…?"

Trish had grabbed the phone from him and was yelling into it, "Hello? Hello?"

"It's upside down," Vaughn said, taking the phone and flipping it over before handing it back to her.

"Hello? Sally?" Trish said.

"Sydney," Vaughn whispered, gritting his teeth.

"…Yes, you too. You know I saw your picture and you're a woman…Yes, but you know, in my day, the women followed the directions of the men…I know that, Susie…"

Vaughn couldn't hear Sydney's replies, but he could see where this conversation was headed. He quickly snatched the phone from his aunt.

"…Hey!"

"Enough, Aunt Trish. Here," he said, pressing a button and pointing out the tuning dial. "Listen to the radio."

Not the smartest idea, he knew, giving his aunt control of the radio. But he really didn't want to go home to an unhappy wife.

"I'm sorry, Syd," he said quietly, and waited a moment for her reply.

"Michael," she said in a low tone. "I can deal with most people…But you have to promise me that you will do your absolute best to keep that woman away from me for the next few weeks. I don't think I can…"

"You got it, Syd," he said with a smile. "Now, will you please go inside?"

She didn't say anything, but he heard the door slam. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

"Anything for you, Michael," she said sweetly, and even though he wasn't there with her, he knew she was smiling as she said it.

The radio suddenly changed from a soft classical melody, to a cacophony of disagreeable chords and wailing, completely jarring him from the moment, and making him swerve dangerously close to the little red Volkswagen in the next lane. He reached over and turned the volume down, much to Trish's displeasure.

"Mike, what are you listening to?" Sydney laughed.

"Don't ask," he said with a sigh, glancing over at Trish. She was sitting with her arms folded over her chest and looking out he window.

"Okay, well…" Sydney paused, and he heard a faint ringing. "Oh, I've got to go. Someone's at the door."

"All right, Syd. You go play the good little hostess."

"You know I will."

"I'll see you in a little while. And I got you something at the airport. It's a surprise, I'll show it to you when I get home."

He couldn't wait to see her face when he showed her the baby names book. He had been meaning to pick one up for awhile, but had never found the time.

"I can't wait, Mike. Bye, I lo…"

And for the second time that day, she was stopped from saying those three words. The phone went dead.

For once he didn't worry. The phone had been crackling ever since he had taken it back from Trish, and he knew that he was coming into a bad area. Besides, he would see her soon, and in a matter of minutes, the shower guests would be arriving. There would be more than enough people in the house to take care of her.

Which was why he was surprised when, twenty-five minutes later, he pulled into his driveway and found the guests that should have been inside his house, sitting on his front porch, still holding carefully wrapped gifts and plates of cookies covered in saran wrap.

And that's when he started to worry, when he knew he should have been worried before. That's when he wished he had tried to call her back after the phone had gone dead. When he wished he had been able to tell her that he loved her, that he had been able to hear her say those three little words one last time…

Okay, I have absolutely no idea what to name the baby, so if you guys could give me suggestions that would be great…So, what did you think? There was happy stuff in it, and it was only a little bit sad. Of course, I couldn't resist putting in at least a tiny bit of a cliffhanger ending…Want to know what happens next? Then please review. Reviews make me write a lot faster…