"Vaughn, are you alright?" Jack asked, concerned.
"What? Oh, oh yeah. I guess. I was just....thinking."
"Vaughn, it wasn't your fault."
"Maybe not entirely, but I could have gotten her out."
"You would have died Vaughn."
"At least I'd be with her."
"You did the best you could Vaughn. We ALL did."
"It's my job to keep her safe!"
"You didn't know she couldn't get out."
"Dammit, it's my JOB to know! I'm supposed....I'm supposed...." Vaughn's voice began to crack as he filled with tears. "I'm supposed to keep her safe. I should have done more. Jack, that should be me!" he cried, indicating the coffin. "There's not even a body. Dear God, I failed her."
Jack's own eyes filled with tears as he observed the coffin. Sydney's friends could not even be present for her funeral. It was a closed ceremony, and secrets could not be revealed. Even in death she was in hiding, saving the people she loved, losing everything for herself.
Vaughn walked away from Jack and stood by the coffin. The CIA had provided flowers. Pink and yellow roses. It seemed a cruel irony mocking him. They were so like her. Beautiful and seemingly delicate. But dangerous and strong at the same time.
An uncharacteristically cold wind blew and ruffled his hair and coat. How had winter come so soon? The strong breeze carried away the smell of the roses and ripped their soft petals.
How could it all be over?
No goodbyes.
No "I love yous."
Just silence. And the smell of roses.
"What? Oh, oh yeah. I guess. I was just....thinking."
"Vaughn, it wasn't your fault."
"Maybe not entirely, but I could have gotten her out."
"You would have died Vaughn."
"At least I'd be with her."
"You did the best you could Vaughn. We ALL did."
"It's my job to keep her safe!"
"You didn't know she couldn't get out."
"Dammit, it's my JOB to know! I'm supposed....I'm supposed...." Vaughn's voice began to crack as he filled with tears. "I'm supposed to keep her safe. I should have done more. Jack, that should be me!" he cried, indicating the coffin. "There's not even a body. Dear God, I failed her."
Jack's own eyes filled with tears as he observed the coffin. Sydney's friends could not even be present for her funeral. It was a closed ceremony, and secrets could not be revealed. Even in death she was in hiding, saving the people she loved, losing everything for herself.
Vaughn walked away from Jack and stood by the coffin. The CIA had provided flowers. Pink and yellow roses. It seemed a cruel irony mocking him. They were so like her. Beautiful and seemingly delicate. But dangerous and strong at the same time.
An uncharacteristically cold wind blew and ruffled his hair and coat. How had winter come so soon? The strong breeze carried away the smell of the roses and ripped their soft petals.
How could it all be over?
No goodbyes.
No "I love yous."
Just silence. And the smell of roses.