Fallen from Grace
Vaughn walked up to the fence surrounding his usual meeting spot. The dim light and the dirty floors gave him a sense of belonging. He grabbed the chain link with his left hand and used it as a support for his head. He wasn't sure why he had come here. He wanted to be alone and he did not want to go home. Home was for normal people with normal lives and his was far from it. He did not want to mock his home by being in it right now. He stared at the crisscross of the metal holding his hand up. Over, under, over, under, each time the metal rope intersected another it wound around it, binding them together. Sometimes there were rough knots in the metal and they would scratch his right hand as he ran it over the fence. It was a fence in a dark, dusty, moldy warehouse and its sole purpose was to keep normality out. Normal people wouldn't be here, they wouldn't even thing of coming in here. But he was here.
He had tried desperately to be normal. He had tried to convince himself that it was normal for his life at work and his life outside of work to be unconnected to each other. It was just work after all. People everywhere did jobs they didn't like so that they could enjoy their real lives outside of work. But how many people did their lives outside of work so that they could enjoy their real life at their jobs? He wondered dejectedly.
And that was the truth of the matter. It was only at his job, or more specifically, when he was working with Sydney that he felt alive. Everything else he did was simply so he could participate in those moments.
He sighed as he turned his body and leaned the back of his head against the chain-link. He looked over at the spot she usually stood and closed his eyes. In his mind he could see her laugh, he could see her smile, he could even see her frown, which of the three expressions seemed to be what she did the most of. But if anything, her frowns seemed to make her smiles all the more precious. She was alive with passion. He could only marvel at her spirit. He felt like an empty shell without her. So he had vowed to do everything in his power to make sure she survived her job, so that she could live her normal life.
My guardian angel, she had called him.
He almost cried at the irony of it. He was no angel. He had betrayed her like everyone else in her life. He loved her. He needed her like he needed air. But he was a coward, he knew. He had drawn the lines of protocol around them with iron chains. Maybe iron chains with holes in them, he thought ruefully. Not only am I coward, but I am weak as well.
He knew that when she needed him he threw protocol out the window. He knew she needed someone real in her life. She was the only real thing in his. But how she dealt with her multiple lives he had no idea. The only way he had found that he could was to pretend that only one was real at any time. When he was at home, Sydney was a dream. His love for her was like the love one feels for an abstract ideal. But if Sydney ever called him when he was in his other life, the façade would come crashing down as if it were a house of cards on a windy day.
But that's how he'd failed her. He'd been at home, alone in his apartment. When Alice had come knocking on his door he had let her in. When she had leaned close to him he had not pushed her away. When she had asked to see him again, he had not said no. How could he explain to Sydney that she had just not been real. He couldn't because it was not an excuse. Sydney had needed him to be real to her and his other life had been showcased before her. I'm no better then any of them, acting one way in front of her and then acting in other when she is not looking. He should have been true to himself and then he would not have betrayed her. Though he would not have allowed anything to happen between them, at least he would not have betrayed her.
And then she had betrayed herself, her ideals for him, to save him. Instead of helping to guide her towards a path that she knew was right and could live with herself for following, he had lead her to the very gates of hell. And he cried.
Almost. Sydney got the antidote. The doctors say your blood levels are looking good.
How did she do it? He'd asked Jack.
She had Sloane killed.
She had laid her righteousness on a sacrificial altar for him and he knew he was not worth of the sacrifice.
Vaughn felt his legs go down underneath him and he allowed himself to slump to the ground. The dust kicked up forming a cloud around him causing him to cough. The cough was real. This was real. His pain was real. He vaguely heard his cell phone ring. Without thinking he glanced at its screen and saw Alice's number. In the same fluid motion he hung up on her as if to illustrate to himself just once more that though Sydney could shatter his house of cards, no one else could put them back up. With this realization, he tossed his cell phone along the floor and leaned his head back on the chain link forming his prison. He did not think his tears would redeem but they were the only penance he could think of.
Vaughn walked up to the fence surrounding his usual meeting spot. The dim light and the dirty floors gave him a sense of belonging. He grabbed the chain link with his left hand and used it as a support for his head. He wasn't sure why he had come here. He wanted to be alone and he did not want to go home. Home was for normal people with normal lives and his was far from it. He did not want to mock his home by being in it right now. He stared at the crisscross of the metal holding his hand up. Over, under, over, under, each time the metal rope intersected another it wound around it, binding them together. Sometimes there were rough knots in the metal and they would scratch his right hand as he ran it over the fence. It was a fence in a dark, dusty, moldy warehouse and its sole purpose was to keep normality out. Normal people wouldn't be here, they wouldn't even thing of coming in here. But he was here.
He had tried desperately to be normal. He had tried to convince himself that it was normal for his life at work and his life outside of work to be unconnected to each other. It was just work after all. People everywhere did jobs they didn't like so that they could enjoy their real lives outside of work. But how many people did their lives outside of work so that they could enjoy their real life at their jobs? He wondered dejectedly.
And that was the truth of the matter. It was only at his job, or more specifically, when he was working with Sydney that he felt alive. Everything else he did was simply so he could participate in those moments.
He sighed as he turned his body and leaned the back of his head against the chain-link. He looked over at the spot she usually stood and closed his eyes. In his mind he could see her laugh, he could see her smile, he could even see her frown, which of the three expressions seemed to be what she did the most of. But if anything, her frowns seemed to make her smiles all the more precious. She was alive with passion. He could only marvel at her spirit. He felt like an empty shell without her. So he had vowed to do everything in his power to make sure she survived her job, so that she could live her normal life.
My guardian angel, she had called him.
He almost cried at the irony of it. He was no angel. He had betrayed her like everyone else in her life. He loved her. He needed her like he needed air. But he was a coward, he knew. He had drawn the lines of protocol around them with iron chains. Maybe iron chains with holes in them, he thought ruefully. Not only am I coward, but I am weak as well.
He knew that when she needed him he threw protocol out the window. He knew she needed someone real in her life. She was the only real thing in his. But how she dealt with her multiple lives he had no idea. The only way he had found that he could was to pretend that only one was real at any time. When he was at home, Sydney was a dream. His love for her was like the love one feels for an abstract ideal. But if Sydney ever called him when he was in his other life, the façade would come crashing down as if it were a house of cards on a windy day.
But that's how he'd failed her. He'd been at home, alone in his apartment. When Alice had come knocking on his door he had let her in. When she had leaned close to him he had not pushed her away. When she had asked to see him again, he had not said no. How could he explain to Sydney that she had just not been real. He couldn't because it was not an excuse. Sydney had needed him to be real to her and his other life had been showcased before her. I'm no better then any of them, acting one way in front of her and then acting in other when she is not looking. He should have been true to himself and then he would not have betrayed her. Though he would not have allowed anything to happen between them, at least he would not have betrayed her.
And then she had betrayed herself, her ideals for him, to save him. Instead of helping to guide her towards a path that she knew was right and could live with herself for following, he had lead her to the very gates of hell. And he cried.
Almost. Sydney got the antidote. The doctors say your blood levels are looking good.
How did she do it? He'd asked Jack.
She had Sloane killed.
She had laid her righteousness on a sacrificial altar for him and he knew he was not worth of the sacrifice.
Vaughn felt his legs go down underneath him and he allowed himself to slump to the ground. The dust kicked up forming a cloud around him causing him to cough. The cough was real. This was real. His pain was real. He vaguely heard his cell phone ring. Without thinking he glanced at its screen and saw Alice's number. In the same fluid motion he hung up on her as if to illustrate to himself just once more that though Sydney could shatter his house of cards, no one else could put them back up. With this realization, he tossed his cell phone along the floor and leaned his head back on the chain link forming his prison. He did not think his tears would redeem but they were the only penance he could think of.