Shattered Paradise
Chapter 9: Paradise Lost
Vaughn sat in his car, engine running, too shocked even to move. Everything would have been fine, just fine, if only they weren't still holding their gifts, if only the plates of cookies had been unwrapped and half eaten…
"Why doesn't Sara let them inside?" Trish asked.
He had had more than enough of this. Both his patience and his temper were wearing dangerously thin. "Sydney, God damn it! Her name is Sydney! Not Cindy, not Sally, not Susie or Sara. Sydney!"
"Calm yourself, dear. It was just…"
But he was out of the car and had slammed the door before she could finish her sentence.
A chorus of voices made their way to his ears. "Hello Michael!" Laughter and chattering, whispering and gossip. These women had no idea.
"What are you doing here?"
"Where's Sydney? Did she forget about us?"
If only it were that simple. He forced his way through the crowd of women, shrugging off their hugs and greetings. All of them oblivious to his mood, to the gravity of the situation. All except Jacqueline and Francie. He made eye contact with them as he passed, saw first the questioning, then shock and worry, mirroring back to his eyes. And they didn't even know…
The door wasn't locked, but the guests had refused to go inside out of common courtesy. He went in, quickly closing the door behind him, shutting out the happiness with the party guests. He could hear the murmurs of surprise as the door shut in their faces, but he didn't care.
All his cares, everything else that might have mattered, disappeared the moment he saw it. Out of place, glaring and broken. The phone, the phone that she had been holding. The one that he thought had been carefully hung up after his cell had gone dead. Lying in the middle of the floor, battery cover broken off and batteries a few feet away, like dead bodies after a bloody battle.
Shit.
The door creaked open, he heard it, but just barely. It quickly shut, closing out the murmurs of the shower guests. A hand was on his shoulder, a soft voice whispering in his ear.
"Mike?"
He turned to face his sister, trying to keep the tears at bay for a few moments longer. "Tell them…" he managed to whisper, his voice breaking, "Tell them to leave."
Jacqueline nodded, giving his shoulder a squeeze before turning and going back outside. He heard her voice, but not the words that were spoken. Heard the murmurs of disappointment and protest, and finally, thank God, the sound of the engines starting and wheels rolling down the driveway.
At least there wasn't any blood this time. Or was there? Even with his eyes open, he thought he could see it, dancing crazily before his eyes, painting everything crimson.
The door opened once again, and this time, there was no chattering, no whispering, no laughing. Silence. But this was the kind of silence that was the worst. The kind that was unbearable, deadly.
Those remaining filed noiselessly into the house. Jacqueline with Seth and Kerri (her babysitter had cancelled last minute, he found out later, much later) Aunt Trish, his mother, Francie, and Sydney's friend Maura from work. Evidently, Jacqueline had not been able to convince all of Sydney's friends to leave. Those who were closest to Sydney, those that could sense the fear and knew that something was wrong, remained.
Jacqueline whispered something to her children, and they raced off to the kitchen, taking the stash of paper and crayons out of its hiding place and busying themselves at the kitchen table.
"Call Jack," Vaughn whispered to no one in particular. "And Eric," he added as an afterthought. Francie took it upon herself to call the two men, and after a moment of hesitation in which she seemed to be deciding whether to pick up the phone from the living room floor, went into the kitchen to use the phone there.
Vaughn was still standing in the same spot, frozen to the ground. Jacqueline took his arm and led him over to the couch. He passed his mother on the way there, the look on her face almost making him break down. There was worry, uncertainty, fear…but she didn't know. None of them did.
And for some reason that thought almost made him laugh, the different levels of understanding in the room. From Francie, who at least knew something of Syd's life before; to Jacky and his mother, who understood that there was something more to Sydney's life than just her bank job; to Maura, who thought Syd was just the sweet English teacher next door; and lastly, Aunt Trish, who knew almost nothing at all.
Despite this, all of them thought they knew the whole story, thought they understood the gravity of the situation. But in reality, none of them had any idea what the hell was going on. None of them knew of the hell Syd had gone through to get where she was today…
Francie returned just as quietly as she had left, and joined them on the couches and chairs in the living room. Trish was the first to break the silence. "So, where is your wife, Michael dear? Why didn't she let her guests inside?"
She didn't even understand that something was wrong, terribly wrong. They should have put her out in the kitchen with the children.
Vaughn shot his aunt a dangerous look. Her eyes grew wide and she swallowed fearfully, but she still wasn't wise enough to keep quiet. "I was just wondering, dear, where Stacy is…"
Vaughn's stare became even more threatening. If looks could kill, not only would Aunt Trish be dead, but the wall behind her probably would have exploded and half the neighborhood would be up in flames.
Little Seth chose this unfortunate time to come toddling in the room with something in his hand. "Look what I found, Uncle Mikey!" The little boy represented the least amount of understanding of them all (except for, perhaps, Aunt Trish). At least his sister was old enough to know that the grownups should be left alone, but Seth hadn't a clue. Naivete, simplicity, innocence, trust, and love, all soon to be shattered.
His mother tried to shoo him away, but he made his way over to his uncle and held out a half-eaten bag of M&M's. Vaughn had been able to control himself thus far. But there was a torrent of emotions raging through him that icy stares and spoken words simply could just not express.
He jumped up from the couch, his hand shooting out to slap the bag of M&M's from Seth, his angry fist coming dangerously close to his nephew's little hand. The colorful candy went flying across the room. Blue, green, yellow, orange, brown…and red. All Vaughn could see was the red, as the candy that was supposed to melt in your mouth, not in your hands, seemed to ooze into a puddle before him. Flashing before his eyes, wet and shining. On the floor, the walls, dripped up the stairs…
"Michael!" his mother shrieked, putting her hands over her eyes.
Jacqueline and Maura ran over to the little boy. Jacqueline picked him and held him tightly in her arms, while Maura rubbed his back. Seth wasn't crying, but he was looking at his uncle with wide, frightened eyes.
"What has gotten into you, young man?" Aunt Trish yelled, waving a finger at Vaughn.
Vaughn looked desperately at the faces in front of him. The fear in the eyes of a little boy who had once adored him, the flash of anger from his aunt and sister, curiosity from Maura, sorrow and shame glaring at him from his mother… Only Francie was gazing at him with a cool mixture sympathy and sadness. She was the only one there that at least partially understood. The only one. He couldn't take it anymore.
"You don't get it, any of you!" he shouted at the women, anger boiling inside him, spilling over and out with his words. "You think my life is so God damned perfect!"
"Michael, the children…" Jacqueline whispered, confusion replacing the anger that had been smoldering in her eyes.
Vaughn paused for just a moment and glanced around the room. Seth had buried his face in his mother's neck and Kerri was standing in the doorway, eyes squeezed shut and hands clapped tightly over her ears.
"Take them out of here," Vaughn whispered viciously. "They don't need to hear this."
Jacqueline's eyes grew wide, as she took Kerri by the hand and led her children from the room. She returned alone, a moment later, and Vaughn waited until she was back before he continued.
Vaughn looked toward the hallway his niece and nephew had disappeared down, and attempted to continue in a normal voice, but couldn't seem to find it. It was either shouting or whispering, and for the sake of the children, whispering won out.
"You don't know anything of our life before we were married. Nothing…"
"But Michael, you're so happy now…" his mother tried to console him. But what might have worked when he was a child, couldn't make everything better anymore. His scrapes had become too large for her Band-Aids to cover. Her reassuring words could no longer right all the wrongs that had been committed against him.
"Yes, now," he finally responded. Except at night, except at night, except at night… "But before, we had nothing but stolen moments, fear, and uncertainty. First we had to hide our feelings, and then our relationship, and all because of work. It was dangerous, we're lucky to be alive…"
He was babbling now, he almost didn't know what he was saying. A wave of panic was starting to edge over him, the soft foam of its crest covering the hot toes of his anger. He tried to swallow it, to keep the wave away. Panic wouldn't help Sydney or their baby…Sydney…their little baby…Oh God…
"But Sydney worked for a bank before she became a teacher," Maura said. "What was the problem with…?"
A voice in the back of his head was taunting her. You don't know a thing. You don't know a thing…
"No, she didn't. She worked with me. She was a spy, a mole, a double agent for the CIA working inside an enemy group…"
"I know you're upset, Michael," his mother interrupted. "But honestly…"
"No, mother," Vaughn answered, his tone suddenly sharp. "You don't get it. Why do you think we were so quick to marry after I first "met" her? I had known her for years. I was her handler, I sent her on missions… Ask her some time, if you can see her scars…" If you still can, if you still can, if you still can…
He paused, the anger melting away, finally cooled by the wave of panic, and replaced instead by a sudden flash of fear and worry. His forehead wrinkled in concern and he ran a nervous hand through his hair.
No one spoke this time. They were beginning to understand. It was beginning to make sense, beginning to sound dangerous; they were starting to become afraid. And they hadn't even heard the worst yet, they didn't even know…
"She's made many enemies," he finally continued. "And the worst one, the one that's been haunting her dreams for months, he beat her, he hurt her, he…" Vaughn almost couldn't bring himself to say it, but he had to tell them, he had to make them understand. The situation was so much worse than they imagined, so much worse… "He…raped her."
He buried his face in his hands. Everyone was quiet, even Aunt Trish.
It was starting to hit him full force now, the fact that she was gone. Slamming against him like a ton of bricks, a semi truck, and a freight train all mixed into one. She's gone, she's gone, she's gone…
And he had her. That bastard. He had taken his wife, he had taken his child, he had taken his world, his life, his paradise. Vaughn shuddered, a chill overtaking him as he finally let the name pass his lips, vile and foul and ugly. "Fahim," he hissed, spitting it out onto the living room carpet, foul tasting and filthy, bile and acid.
The anger returned quickly now, shooting back at him with hot coals and fire. He hadn't said that name in over a year, he hadn't let himself, hadn't wanted to. Now he felt dirty and tainted. Now he wished he hadn't said it, hadn't had to…
Again he hadn't been able to protect her. Again, again, again… How many more times would that happen? When would they finally be able to live in peace and paradise?
The women were silent, staring at him. Disbelief and amazement, sorrow and tears. Now they knew, they knew it all…
"Oh, my Michael," his mother began, and wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his neck and continuing her whispered sobs in gibberish and rapid French.
"Michael, I'm so sorry," Jacqueline murmured, squeezing his hand.
And he moved his lips to tell her not to apologize, but found that he couldn't get the words past the lump that had formed in his throat. Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…
He blinked back the tears. Now wasn't the time for crying. It wasn't, it wasn't. Don't cry, Michael. Please don't cry…
Maura stared at him in disbelief. Her gentle friend and coworker. The one who taught Shakespeare and Hemingway and Thoreau in the classroom right next to hers…
Aunt Trish had closed her eyes tightly and began rocking back and forth, murmuring something unintelligible, raising her hands in the air, and, no doubt, summoning the spirits of their dead ancestors to help them.
"You didn't tell me," Francie finally whispered, in a tone that was guilty and sad. "You didn't tell me…"
He looked into her dark eyes. Pain and fear; brown mirroring green… He and Syd hadn't thought it would be necessary. They never thought that anyone would have to know. They thought in had all been over the moment they had left Egypt.
At least that's what they had wanted to think. But somewhere in the back of their minds, they had known. Known that it wasn't over, because that bastard wasn't dead. Known that someday they would have to tell, someday. They had been hoping that that someday would never come…
But it had. It had come with a vengeance, tearing apart everything he had ever known. He wished he could stop the day, rewind time. Now he was wishing for yesterday. He would do anything for yesterday if only it would give him another chance, another chance to protect her, to protect their little baby…
A sudden knocking jarred him from his thoughts. Everyone looked toward the door, but no one moved. They were frozen in place, shock still marring their faces, his mother's arms still locked around his neck. Vaughn would have answered the door, but even if his mother hadn't been gripping him so tightly, he wouldn't have been able to move.
Francie was the first to thaw, the first to recover. She had, after all, known more than the rest. She stood up and opened the door.
Vaughn had been expecting Jack or Weiss, and was surprised when Dixon stepped inside, his eyes sweeping across the room, taking in the scene, the sorrow, the tears. He understood right away. He knew.
"Diane told me that Sydney wasn't here," he said, approaching Vaughn. "I want to help."
Vaughn only nodded. Now wasn't the time for pride, it wasn't the time to say that he could find his wife and child by himself. He would need all the help he could get, and he knew it. That bastard was dangerous. Oh God, what he could have done to Sydney already…
The door slammed open, and in stormed Jack, cell phone in hand. "…I don't care who the hell you think you are…"
"God, help us!" Aunt Trish wailed. And Vaughn normally Vaughn would have laughed, but there was no mirth to be found anywhere today.
"…No, you do not understand…" Jack continued to shout into his cell, as he stomped across the room toward Vaughn, Dixon, and the now even more frightened women. "…Do not hang up on…" Disgusted, he pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it maliciously.
Seeming to finally notice the startled crowd in front of him, Jack nodded curtly in their direction. "Michael?" he asked quietly, that one word forming all the questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask.
Vaughn nodded sadly. For a moment, Jack seemed too stunned to move, but then his cell phone rang, and he quickly answered it. "What did you find?…Yes, it's a go…No, now!…I need," he paused as his eyes scanned those before him, "three tickets to…"
"Four!" someone shouted from outside, and a breathless Eric Weiss came running through the already open door. "Four tickets…" he panted, bending over and bringing his hands to rest on his knees. Francie ran over to him, flinging her arms around him and hugging him tightly.
"Make it four tickets," Jack continued. "…No, dammit! To Cairo!…Right. I'll be there in twenty." He hung up and sat down on the loveseat next to Aunt Trish.
She eyed him uneasily and slid as far away from his as she could. "Michael, dear," she said, her voice high and nervous. "Who in God's name is this man?"
"Jack Bristow," Jack responded automatically, extending a hand more out of habit than any desire to be courteous.
"Bristow…" Trish said slowly, taking his hand and shaking it. "Sophie's father?"
"Sydney! Sydney! Sydney!" Vaughn shouted, untangling himself from his mother's arms and jumping up from his seat on the couch. His eyes were a vicious, steely gray, a startling switch from the sparkling green that they had been earlier that day.
He was drawing dangerously close to his aunt, who had unintentionally become the vent for his wrath. She laughed, nasally and shrill. "You have the temper of your Uncle Edward," she stated, her voice high and unnatural.
"God damn it! What the hell is wrong with you! Why can't you…"
"Uncle Mikey?" A sweet, tearful voice interrupted. A voice that stopped Vaughn in his tracks and melted the anger away.
All heads turned toward the sound, and saw the two pairs of tearful eyes that peered in from the doorway. No one knew how long they had been there, how much they had heard. No one knew exactly when Kerri had become frightened enough to cling to her little brother and hold him tightly in her arms, no one knew when the tears had started streaming down their little cheeks.
Seth broke free from his sister's grasp and ran toward his Uncle. "Will my Auntie Syddy be okay?"
And that's when it happened. When everything came crashing down in a shower of glass, stinging and blinding and dangerous. His life, everything that he had ever known, everything he had ever lived for… All of it had been broken. His paradise had been shattered, and he couldn't pick up the pieces. Not this time. Not all alone. Everything had been lost…
Vaughn fell slowly down to his knees and took his nephew into his arms. The tears had finally broken free and were flowing quickly down his cheeks, one after another, dropping onto his nephew's now damp hair.
"I don't know, little man. I just don't know."
Thanks for all the help with the names, everyone. With any luck, I'll be able to squeeze out another chapter before I leave for school, but after that you're just going to have to bear with me, because I don't know how the updates will go. And, of course, thanks for all the reviews; I love them!