Author: Ambrose Chavez
Email: agent47achavez@hotmail.com
Category: general
Spoilers: s1
Rating: pg13 for sexual references
Disclaimer: Alias and all related characters are not mine. They're JJ's, but they're on my Christmas list!
Notes: Takes place in the past.
'Ship: William C. Vaughn/Grace Michelle VaughnSummary: If anything should happen to me…
Song: "Good Man" by India.Arie
A/N: one parter…
Grace Michelle Vaughn sat back in her favorite leather chair and sipped at her hot chocolate, a year round guilty pleasure. Lately, she had been missing her husband so. His work was sometimes overwhelming and time consuming, but she loved him enough to understand. She curled her legs up beneath her and reached over for the novel she had checked out of the library two days ago, With This Ring.
A hopeless romantic, Grace smiled as she set her cup aside and glanced up at the antique frame on her nightstand. The picture was taken in black and white, and showed her hiked up on William, piggyback style, one arm around his neck and the other desperately trying to hold onto her suede cowboy hat. It was an inside joke of theirs, she smiled at the memory, remembering when he bought it for her.
"My little country bumpkin," he had called her.
She had protested to the nickname at first, but that was because they had first met when she was sixteen, and such references were more insulting than adorable. At nineteen, William C. Vaughn was indeed the most handsome city boy Grace had come across. She had become so taken with him that they married when she turned eighteen, and at twenty, she had given birth to their only son, Michael.
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I
remember the first day I met you
we were so young, you were a blessing
and there was no guessing
you were the one
Love is so crazy, We had a baby and said our vows
That's when you told me should anything happen
I can hear you now
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Now, she was twenty-eight, a proud housewife who diligently kept her home in order and took care of all the domestic duties while her husband was off protecting the country with his work in intelligence.
Sure, there were times when she missed him dearly, but when he came home they spent every waking moment together. Sometimes, they stayed home and rented movies, cuddled by the fireplace that didn't work, and cooked together. Other times, William would take her to her favorite restaurant and regal her with stories of the countries beyond and what it was like to be a CIA officer.
"Tell me the one where you were almost locked in the compression room in Bolivia."
"That one again?" he lifted his fork and pointed at her. "Grace, you enjoy that story too much."
She laughed. "Oh, William, please? I can't wait until you tell Michael the story one day."
He smiled the smile that would one day replicate the one his son would have, and studied her for a moment. Her sun-streaked blonde hair fell like soft waves, framing her face and complimenting her bright green eyes. His were more a combination of hazel and green, but hers were like newly stained glass. Brilliant.
"I love you, do you know that?" he took her hand and fingered the wedding band she wore.
"Oh, I love you too, honey," she gave a crooked smile and bit down on her lower lip like she always did whenever she was pleased. "I'm just so happy that you're home again."
"Me, too." He took her hand in both of his and lifted it, kissing each knuckle. "Listen, Grace. If anything should ever happen to me…"
"No, never." Her eyes widened and she sat up, reached across the table and cupped his cheek. "Please, don't say speak that way. Nothing's going to happen to you. The only reason why I live through each day you're away is because I hold onto the hope that you will be home again. Not if you come home, but when you come home."
"If anything should happen," he stubbornly went on. "I want you to do the best you can, okay? Raise Michael and dream big. You can still be anything you want to be; it's never too late to write that novel you keep telling me about. You know, the one where the girl is a small-town country bumpkin, and she meets this hotshot city slicker? I want you to write that story. And I want you to know that I'll never stop loving you. I'll be with you forever, whether or not that means I'm here physically or not…Grace, I want you to…"
Tears welled up in her eyes and though she tried to shush him, she forced herself to listen intently and heed his every word.
If anything should ever happen…
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If the sun comes up and I'm not home,
Be strong
If I'm not beside you,
Do your best to carry on
Tell the kids about me when they're old enough to understand
Tell them that their daddy was a good man
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But that was years ago, when he was working special ops and going into the field. Now, Grace stretched her arms over her back, the danger was gone. He was still spending more time at work than she thought reasonable, but he was training other agents and planning strategic counterintelligence ops. He usually came home every night, but during the last month or so, he had been coming home at odd hours and sometimes not at all.
It all had to do with a national threat, he had explained. Something about an agent for an opposing agency carrying out orders to kill his colleagues. He was trying to break the codes, save lives, and protect her and Michael.
Last night, he kissed her brow, tiredly deposited himself on their bed and promptly fell asleep. She laid awake and turned to him. He worked so hard, she stroked his bare back lazily. He really should take a break… maybe I can convince him to take a vacation next week, when Michael is off school for summer break.
That morning, after dropping Michael off at school, he made love to her slowly, taking care to enthrall his senses and increase her pleasure. She had called out his name and nearly cried at the beauty that seemed to present itself to her each time he took her in just this manner. Without words, he showed her time and time again the expanse of his love and let his heart pound against hers while he whispered words that swirled in her head and heart like a chant. Never-ending and rhythmic, they took the outside world and set it ablaze with emotion. When it finally exploded, the only music she could hear was that of his voice breathing her name.
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First anniversary, remember we chose a star
And as I stand I'm afraid, I can't help but wonder if
You see it where you are
For whatever reason, we don't see the seasons change again
Go there with peace of mind
We'll meet on the other side
Cause true Love don't end
And baby…
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He had gone back to work then, and she had returned to her book content, knowing that this man was the only one who could ever make her world vibrant with color and laughter. Standing, Grace took her cup and headed downstairs to refill it with more hot chocolate.
She passed the hall where pictures of her and William as children were staggered among ones of them together, some of their wedding, and others of Michael with them. She paused and stared at their wedding picture. William stood in his crisp tuxedo, flashing a broad, toothy smile her way as the picture immobilized her tossing flower petals in the air and twirling in circles beneath their downfall.
Smiling to herself, she lifted the pot with hot water and poured it into her mug. Adding the packet of chocolate, she began to stir in a few mint leaves, carefully watching as each lump disintegrated.
The doorbell sounded, and puzzled, she glanced at the clock and noted that it was 12:47 p.m.
Shrugging, she took a sip and dropped the spoon in the sink. "Be right there."
She opened the door to see two men dressed in suits and ties, and wearing sunglasses. Behind them, she spotted a black sedan parked in their driveway with another man dressed similarly, leaning casually against the car.
"Can I help you?" She held the cup with both hands and turned her attention to the man standing just ahead of the second man on her doorstep.
"Mrs. Vaughn?" He took off his sunglasses and waited for her nod of acknowledgement. "My name is Jack Bristow. I have some paperwork I need you to sign. May we come in?"
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If the sun comes up and I'm not home,
Be strong
If I'm not beside you,
Do your best to carry on
Tell the kids about me when they're old enough to understand
Tell them that their daddy was a good man
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The mug slipped from her hand and shattered on the white tile at her feet. Paperwork.
She moved aside and the two agents walked in. One went to the kitchen to find something to use to mop up the mess she made, and she suddenly found herself sitting on the couch. The one named Jack Bristow was talking to her, calmly and methodically, but she wasn't listening. The world blurred and faded and came to a crashing end. Abruptly, everything was black, and she never heard her son run in and scream.
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Two eyes looking up at me
Pointing to the picture like "Where is he?
Momma, are you OK?
What did the paper say
To make you cry that way?"
It said your daddy lived for you
and your daddy died for you
and I'll do the same…
Now baby, if the sun comes up and I'm not home,
Be strong
If I'm not beside you,
Do your best to carry on.
Tell the kids about me when they're old enough to understand,
Tell them that their daddy was a good man
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