Bad Dream
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions.
Reviews: Please, I love them!
Summary: One-parter. AU, post "The Getaway." Sydney and Vaughn aren't spies, they've never been spies. But sometimes, she has nightmares…
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For most of her life, she rarely dreamed when she closed her eyes at night, and when she did, the details were fuzzy and insignificant. The dreams she has now are different. They play in her mind as clearly as if she were watching a movie. Sometimes they are nightmares. Always, she wakes up feeling unsettled, and relieved to be lying next to him in their king-sized bed. She lays back against her pillow after the dreams shake her, gazing around the lovely, enormous bedroom that resides in the house they bought less than a year ago, only weeks after he was made partner at his law firm and months before she learned she was pregnant with their first child. They'd congratulated themselves on the exquisite timing of it all. His promotion allows them to live quite comfortably; last month he even asked, gently, if she wanted to think about quitting her job once the baby was born. The idea of being a stay at home mommy appeals to her, though she hasn't made up her mind just yet; she hasn't decided for sure whether she really wants to give up teaching. It was all she'd ever wanted to do. It was what her mother had done, God rest her soul.
Tonight, after a particularly disturbing dream, she finds she needs to be close to him, though she hates to risk waking him. Poor baby had a long day. He stirs slightly as she snuggles closer, drowsily pulling her to him. "Syd?"
"Shh, darling," she soothes. "Don't wake up."
"Did you have another dream?"
She hadn't wanted to wake him, but now that she has, she finds she really wants to share the dream with him. "You took me to dinner in France in this one."
"I thought we weren't supposed to date, in your dreams," he murmurs softly.
"We're not," she tells him. "And they find us, Michael, and you end up having to kill two men."
"Mmm." He pulls her even closer. "At least in this dream I saved you and not the other way around, for once."
She giggles. The thing is, the Michael of her dreams is not so different than the Michael in her reality-- strong, protective, handsome. She supposes that she is not so different from Dream Sydney, either, though in reality she has never thrown a punch or fired a gun. "We argued in this dream, Michael. I accused you of hiding things from me, but really I was just mad that you were seeing your ex-girlfriend again."
"Ah, Syd." He plants a loving kiss on the top of her head, and she closes her eyes with a smile. He's so good to her. "Why would I be with someone else when I could be with you?"
The question makes the smile fade from her face. "That's just it, Michael. You can't be with me, in these dreams."
Another kiss on the top of her head. "Sounds like a nightmare."
"Yeah," she whispers. She supposes it does. A world where her mother is a living ex-KGB operative instead of a dead literature professor. Where she hasn't had the opportunity to spend the last few years as Mrs. Michael Vaughn, where she isn't a mere two months away from giving birth to his beautiful first-born son. It does sound pretty awful.
But not all of the dreams are nightmares. Sometimes, there is a moment when she connects with her mother, and she thinks it is worth it to be able to see her again, regardless of the circumstances. There are moments when Michael smiles at her a certain way, and she thinks that they'll find a way to be together, somehow, some day. Those nights, the dreams don't seem so bad.
"Oh, Mike, before I forget."
"Hmm?" From his drowsy tone, she knows he was just about to drift back off to sleep, but what the hell, tomorrow is Saturday. He'll go into the office for a few hours, but he'll do so on his own schedule, relaxed, dressed casually instead of in the dark suits he wears so well.
"I'm having lunch with Francie tomorrow, and then we're going to go shopping for things for the baby."
"Again?" His tone is teasing. "That little boy is going to have enough clothes and toys for ten babies."
"I know. Maybe I've been going a little overboard."
"Nah. I think it's sweet." They can afford it, anyway. "Don't forget, we have that dinner party at Mr. Kendall's tomorrow night."
She knows that it's not a lot for him to ask, for her to play the doting wife at another of his boring office functions. In exchange for the lifestyle his job provides, it is probably more than a fair request. Still, she groans. Getting all dressed up to charm and impress his associates and their wives has never exactly been her idea of a good time; it will be even less pleasant now that she is seven months pregnant. "My, you've gotten big." "Oh, I know. Just two more months to go." "It's a boy, right? Have you settled on a name?" "We're thinking of Jack, after my father." "Wonderful. Such a strong name." "Yes. That's what we thought. I'm not that close to my father, but it's a name I've always equated with strength."
"I know it won't be much fun," he says apologetically, as if reading her mind. "We don't have to stay too late."
"Good. You know I don't really mind going, sweetheart, I just--"
"I know." She rests her head on his chest, kissing the warm flesh there, and he strokes her hair fondly. "You're amazing, Sydney. I love you."
"I love you, Michael." She does, she adores him. He is such a beautiful man; she hopes their son looks just like him. She smiles at the thought, a smile that fades as she remembers the dream. "In my dream, I told Francie that nothing was ever going to come of my feelings for you, that it wasn't worth fantasizing about."
"I should feel insulted," he says, his voice teasing. "You don't think I'm worth fantasizing about?"
She lifts her head and kisses him on the lips. "I don't have to fantasize," she says firmly. "I have the reality."
She does. She has him. And any universe where she doesn't could be nothing more than a bad dream.