4/7
***
Sydney slept well into midday the following day. It was nearly noon by the time she stretched out luxuriously in bed, and peeped through closed eyelids at the sunlight that filtered through the heavy drapes. She had caught up on most of what she had been cheated of the previous night, and felt thoroughly rested as she remembered to close and blot the French doors before slipping into the bathroom, and enjoying another shower.
By the time she emerged, dressed, clean and coifed, Vaughn was up and waiting for his own turn in the shower.
"I'll call down to the restaurant and order breakfast," she suggested, "while you get ready, all right?"
Vaughn agreed that this seemed like a reasonable plan, so she took his preferences before he disappeared into the bedroom, and Sydney sat down with the phone in the living area to dial down to the restaurant.
It took quite a while to make sure they had to correct order, but even so Vaughn wasn't done when she hung up, so while she was waiting Sydney slipped into her new coat and headed downstairs to take a little walk.
The streets were now crowded with people, and she delighted in losing herself in their midst. People scrambled to get their Christmas shopping completed, sometimes hauling spouses and/or children along behind them. Others seemed to be dazed, as if the whole rush had either just gotten to them, or had gotten to them so long ago that it had numbed them completely.
She watched a little girl try to convince her parents that she needed nothing in the world so badly as she needed a toy displayed in a shop window, and smiled at their exasperated pleas for her to come away with them, and wait to see what Santa brought.
Older children, not really children so much as young adults, giggled and whispered together as they ferried their own purchases homeward before the intended receiver could come along and see what they would be getting.
The whole atmosphere was a delicious one, and Sydney reveled in it, taking her time about heading back to the room.
When she did get there eventually, Vaughn looked up, unable to conceal his relief at seeing her walk through the door.
"Syd, you have no idea how worried-"
"Oh, gosh, Vaughn, I'm sorry!" she gasped. "I should have left a note, or something- knocked on the door, even, and told you- I just wanted to take a walk, and- I'm sorry. Really. It will never happen again."
The look in his eyes was haunting, and she found it oddly comforting, as well as slightly surprising, to see how worried he must have been over her absence.
"It won't ever," she repeated gently, "happen again."
He smiled slightly at her, and rubbed his face with one hand.
"I'm glad," he admitted. "Now, are you feeling up to eating? Because personally? I'm starving."
Sydney smiled.
"Let's go downstairs," she invited quietly. "We need something to eat."
***
Things loosened up over the breakfast - well, lunch, really - table, and soon they were laughing easily together.
"No, seriously," Sydney insisted, "it was my lifelong ambition to be a Sugar Plum fairy! I didn't care about Clara in the least- I just had to be a fairy."
"Well," Vaughn said, trying to wipe the colossal grin off his face by hiding it behind his napkin, "that's very- sweet, Sydney."
"Okay, okay," she rolled her eyes, "I've bared my soul to you- now it's your turn."
"What, you want embarrassing childhood stories? No way. Not gonna happen."
Sydney pouted, pleaded and implored, but Vaughn refused to budge. He simply would not give in. At last she sat back, and frowned.
"Fine, then, I'll just have to meet your mother and ask her."
Vaughn paled.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, wouldn't I?" she smirked, and he swallowed hard.
"Okay, okay. How about- um- this. My mom and dad were members of the Sea and Shore Country Club, right? Really high end, exclusive stuff. If it weren't for Dad's connections, they'd have never had a prayer for membership, but as it was he made a few calls and they got in. Mom was thrilled to pieces, and they must have spent a week planning our first Saturday there."
Sydney watched, curious, as he swallowed the rest of his orange juice before continuing.
"Well, I was only three at the time, and the whole thing seemed okay, and all- a beach, a playground, and other things that look just fine when you're that age. But what really intrigued me were the sprinklers."
"The what?" Sydney blinked.
"The sprinklers- all over the lawn. The place had a fantastic lawn. It was lush, green, and rolled on for as far as I could see. And to water it, they had dozens and dozens of sprinklers spread out across it. I thought those sprinklers were the greatest thing I had ever seen, and I wanted nothing more than to run right through them."
"Not really?" Sydney was amused.
"Yes, really," he sighed. "But of course, Mom had spent ages dressing me for the occasion. I was wearing brand new shoes, little khakis, a white shirt and a cardigan that probably cost way too much for a kid who would outgrow it in a year anyway. I knew Mom would be furious if I got any of them wet or dirty, but I really wanted to run through those sprinklers, so . . ."
Sydney gaped.
"Vaughn, please tell me you aren't saying what I think you're saying."
Vaughn blushed.
"Unfortunately, I probably am. Out of consideration for my mother's hard work, I waited until she and Dad weren't looking, carefully removed every stitch of clothing I wore, and went scampering through the sprinklers absolutely bare naked."
Try as she might to be sympathetic, Sydney just couldn't help it.
She laughed until she cried.
***
"I think it was very heartless of you," Vaughn grumbled, as they made their way back to the elevators. "Half the restaurant turned to stare."
"I am so sorry, I just- I- Vaughn," she doubled over, giggling, "bare naked?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Go on, then, have a good laugh. I'll just have to ask your father for more embarrassing stories about you."
"Humph," Sydney sniffed, pressing the button to summon the car, "as if you'd get any out of him."
Vaughn had to admit that it would probably be difficult, to say the least, but that didn't mean he wasn't determined to try.
"The question still remains, though," he added, "of what we're going to do with ourselves for the rest of the day. We still have-" he checked his watch, "a good four or five hours left to put in before you might want to start dressing for dinner, so what would you like for us to do with them?"
"I suppose," Sydney sighed, "that riding is out of the question?"
Vaughn winced, suddenly reminded of the aching muscles that ran the inside length of his legs.
"Quite," he said grimly, and she smiled.
"Fine, then. No riding. But how about something else?"
"Such as?" he asked suspiciously, and she shrugged.
"Oh, I don't know. There's got to be lots to do in this place, right? Do you like to swim? We could try out the pool. Or maybe the exercise room."
"I don't know . . ." Vaughn said dubiously.
Sydney brightened.
"Or," she said, "we could go shopping."
Vaughn blanched slightly.
"Shopping?"
"Sure! I still have a few things I'd like to pick up- I'm sure you do, too."
"Well, I'm not sure that-"
"And aren't I supposed to pick up that statue that's part of my cover? Not that I'll actually give it to him, but I have to do that sometime- why not today? Oh, come on, Vaughn," she pleaded, "let's go shopping!"
She looked so darn cute, he mused. And shopping? What could be the harm in that?
"All right," he sighed, "just let me brush my teeth and get my coat."
***
Two hours later, Vaughn wondered how on Earth he had let himself get roped into this mess. Not only were he and Sydney shopping, but so, it seemed, was the rest of Halifax, and they all tried to fit into the same store as they did.
It was most uncomfortable.
"Sydney," he mumbled into the shoulder of a perfect stranger's coat as they stood in some sort of antique store, "Sydney, I think I may be sick."
"Okay, honey," she said, completely unconcerned as she scooped a vase out from under the nose of another lady, "but try to lean outside, okay? They might notice if you threw up in here."
"You think?" he wondered, and Sydney considered.
"Maybe not. Hey! Hey, how much do you want for this?"
"Fifty-five, ma'am."
"I'll give you thirty!" she called back, and the proprietor didn't even think twice.
"Sold!"
As she paid for it, and the vase was wrapped, Vaughn studied the woman who was supposed to be his wife.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the conquest she had made. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she chattered with the owner of the antique store, and accented some of her words with graceful, expressive little hand gestures that reminded him of his mother.
As she accepted the tidy package and thanked the little man, he broke Vaughn's reverie by marveling,
"You have a most beautiful wife, monsieur, and I do envy you her."
Vaughn smiled, and settled his arm around Sydney's waist.
"Yeah," he smiled, looking down into her shining face, "I get that a lot."
***
After that, Vaughn didn't really mind the shopping so much. Sydney asked his opinion on what she should buy for Will, and took input on a gift for her father, though in the end it was she who spotted the well-aged coffee service all the way from Morocco.
"He loves Moroccan coffee," she murmured, as she purchased the set and a bag of beans to go with it. "I remember Mom would make him a cup every morning. Especially Christmas, though- I'd go sailing into their bedroom and land on the bed, begging them mercilessly to let me open my presents, but first, Mom would say, she had to make Daddy his coffee."
Her face grew wistful at the memory, and she smiled.
"I would lie there next to him, feeling to safe and warm cuddled up against his chest and we would talk her through it together. We'd say, 'Now she's getting the bag down, now she's grinding the beans. The hot water is just starting to boil now.' We'd detail the entire procedure, right up to when the aroma would start filling the apartment, and she would bring it in on a tray- the tall urn, and the little tiny cup. She would say that I should wait for him to have his first one in bed, but I would always beg him to let me open my gifts right away, and he would always give in.
"We'd go to the living room, and he'd have his coffee while she had her tea, and they watched me pretty much destroy the entire living room with wrapping paper and candy and toys- I was," she added matter-of-factly, "very spoiled as a child."
Vaughn thought of how Jack Bristow's eyes would rest lovingly on his child every time she entered the room and thought nobody was looking, and how Irina Derevko's gaze would hungrily follow her daughter out of the cell each time she left it, and found himself nodding.
"Yeah," he said quietly, "I can believe that."
She smiled wistfully into the distance for a moment, caught up in the sweet memory of a life too perfect to last forever, and then gave herself a brisk shake to return to the present.
"Well," she said a little breathlessly, "let's go find something for your mother, all right?"
***
They returned to the hotel room in plenty of time to dress for the evening. Vaughn had been bolted into the bathroom to shave once more while Sydney changed, and once he was done he waited until she tapped on the door to signify that she was decent.
Then he came out to find her there, makeup kit in hand, a smile on her face, and an exquisite little burgundy dress clinging to her frame. It stopped knee-length, perfect for dinner and a show, and he couldn't help but return her smile with one of his own.
"Nobody is going to be watching the ballet," he admitted frankly. "You look fantastic."
"Well, just you wait, then," she teased, "until I've put my face on, and then we'll see what you think!"
"Oh, no," he laughed. "Don't change it. Please. I don't think," his face softened, his tone becoming more serious, "that I could stand it if you changed it."
Her own smile faltered, and her cheeks deepened their flush.
"It won't look that different," she mumbled, and slipped past him, into the bathroom.
Had he gone too far? He wondered. He hoped not. But he had felt it had to be said. Now he'd embarrassed her, and for that he was truly sorry. In an effort to relive the tension, he changed the subject.
"Did you call for the limo?" he wondered, and her reply to the negative floated out.
"No, sorry, I didn't. If you would, that would be great. Oh, and be sure to tell him we'll need him at the restaurant in time for the show, won't you?"
Vaughn promised he would, and by the time he had made the call, Sydney was done. She'd left her hair down and shining, and had ever-so-slightly contoured her cheekbones with the blusher so that her whole face seemed to glow. Vaughn swallowed hard.
"Are you ready?" he wondered, and she tilted her head.
"Why? Don't I look it?"
"Oh- yes." He gasped. "Yes, you do."
She smiled, pleased.
"Good. I'm glad. Now, could you please pass me my coat? Our reservation is in twenty minutes, and we don't want to lose it."
***
The restaurant they had eventually settled for was beautiful. Mid-size, pleasantly secluded with muted lighting, soft music and quiet staff. Once they had been seated and Vaughn requested a wine list, they sat back to soak up the ambience. Candlelight flickered from the tall candlesticks that rose on the table between them, Christmas carols played softly in the background, and the world outside looked like a winter wonderland.
"It's lovely," Sydney sighed, her gaze drifting out the window to the snowy streets. "Absolutely lovely."
Vaughn watched her intently.
"Yeah," he said, "it is."
She turned her head and caught his look, her eyes lighting up with a quizzical smile.
"What?" she asked, and he affected a look of surprise.
"What do you mean, 'what'? You made a comment, and I agreed with you."
"No," she smiled, "I made a comment, and you made a different one. I can tell- it's something in the tone of your voice."
Vaughn rolled his eyes as the wine list was brought to their table.
"That's some imagination you have, Mrs. Green," he teased her. "Now, how does a nice Jost sound to you?"
"Not as good as a straight answer," she said crisply, "but I suppose it will have to do."
Vaughn nodded to the waiter.
"A half bottle, please."
The waiter nodded.
"Very good, Sir."
Vaughn turned back to his date, and smiled.
"Now, a straight answer I won't give you, but your Christmas gift I will."
"My what?" she looked at him, surprised.
"Your Christmas gift,." He repeated. "We might not get the chance tomorrow night, so I thought I'd give it to you now. That is," he added, "if you want it."
Sydney held out her hands in response, and Vaughn laughed at the "Gimme, gimme" look on her face.
"All right, all right. Close your eyes."
She looked at him, surprised.
"What is, this, charades?"
"Close your eyes," he insisted, and she rolled them, but he remained firm.
"I'm not going to give you your gift until you close your eyes," he maintained, so at last she closed them, and waited.
Before he handed it to her, he cautioned,
"You have to keep it upright, okay? Don't tilt it, or anything."
She nodded that she would, so he reached over the table and pressed something cold, hard and smooth into her palms. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was holding a diminutive fishbowl, in which swam a brightly-coloured fish, trailing long silky-looking fins behind him like so many royal robes.
Her eyes opened wide.
"Vaughn, he's gorgeous!"
Vaughn grinned.
"He's a Siamese fighting fish- a beta. A very solitary fish- he's lethal. Males will fight each other to the death, so don't get any ideas about giving him company. I just thought, when you were talking about wanting a pet- maybe he'll do, until all this is over."
Her eyes shone as she smiled at him.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you so much."
She then returned her gaze to her vibrantly-coloured acquisition, and watched in awe as he shimmered his way around in the water.
"However did you carry him without tipping him over?" she marveled, and Vaughn laughed.
"It took some doing, I won't deny. Once you jostled me in the limo and I was sure I'd have to blow the whole surprise right then and there, in order to save his life, but I managed to keep him level the whole way along. What do you think you'll call him?"
Sydney studied the bowl attentively. The fish was mostly a deep, vibrant blue, with hints of purple and gold running along the raggedy edges of his fins.
"I don't know. He's so beautiful- I find it hard to name really beautiful things."
"Take your time," Vaughn smiled, "it's not like you have to train him to come when he's called, or anything."
"No," Sydney agreed, "I guess not."
The steward arrived with the wine, then, and Vaughn engaged himself in tasting it before accepting the bottle, which was left for them.
Supper was ordered and subsequently brought, and they managed to lose themselves in conversation over it. They talked about their families, Christmases past, and plans for Christmases to come.
"I want my daughters in little red flannel nightgowns," Sydney said, determined, "and for as long as I can force them into them, my sons are going to wear those one-piece union suits - red - with trap doors."
Vaughn blinked.
"I had one of those."
Sydney gaped.
"You did not."
"I did. I wore it until I was five. The buttons broke off, so the trap door hung down, but I didn't care, and until my mom threw it out I insisted on wearing it, and- and I cannot believe I am telling you this. It must be the wine." He blushed furiously, and Sydney laughed.
"I think it's really adorable," she said sincerely, as their dessert was served. "I really do. Do you have any pictures?"
"No!" he blurted. "No, no I do not!"
She eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing, electing instead to focus on the rich, spicy gingerbread the waiter had placed before her.
"Applesauce, Madam?" she wondered, and she nodded.
"Please."
He poured it liberally over the cake, and when he was done she took a bite. Her eyes widened.
"Mm, that's good," she sighed, and since Vaughn was in complete agreement they finished their dessert in sweet silence, mouths too full to speak.
It wasn't much later that he assisted her and the fishbowl out to the limousine, and gave their intended destination.
"Did you enjoy your meal, Sir?" the driver wondered, and Vaughn nodded, smiling.
"It was wonderful, thank you- I'm sorry, I don't believe we even know your name, do we?"
"George, Sir. George Henderson."
"Well, George, the dinner was lovely, thank you, and I hope the ballet will follow suit."
"Oh, I'm sure it will, Sir," George said confidently, "I'm sure it will."
***
George was right. They were not in the least disappointed- it was beautiful.
The music was as stirring as Sydney remembered it being, the performances filled with passion and vibrancy. The colours were a tantalizing delight to the senses, swirling and blending across the stage until one was no longer sure of where anything ended or began.
By the time the curtain finally came down, she was out of breath and in a world all her own.
"I'd forgotten," she whispered, "how wonderful it was . . ."
She remembered all too well the nights of holding her mother's hand as she leaned forward as far as she could in the opera box, straining for every possible glimpse of the stage. Laura Bristow had laughed and smiled, her hand tracing teasing circles on her daughter's shoulder as her child quivered in delight of the marvelous spectacle she saw before her.
"It won't go away if you blink," Sydney," she had chided lovingly, but even though Sydney doubted her mother would ever lie to her, you could never be too sure about these things . . .
Now, Sydney sighed, and tugged her coat a little tighter around her, careful to remember the fish she had tucked under her chair upon their arrival.
"Come on, Michael," she mumbled, "let's go home . . ."
***
Sydney fell asleep in the limo on the way back to the hotel, and as she slept, her head resting against Vaughn's shoulder, he took the opportunity to study her.
She was striking, even in repose, and there was an added vulnerability about her when she slept that made him feel strangely protective of her- something he was sure he would never feel in daylight. Sydney Bristow could tale care of herself, thank you very much, but for the moment she was completely exposed to the world, and it made him want to keep her safe.
Almost without realizing what he was doing, Vaughn leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. She stirred, but didn't wake and he told himself it had been only for the sake of preserving their cover.
He told himself- but convincing himself was another thing entirely. There were some things even Vaughn found hard to do, and this one he found well nigh impossible.
***
Sydney slept well into midday the following day. It was nearly noon by the time she stretched out luxuriously in bed, and peeped through closed eyelids at the sunlight that filtered through the heavy drapes. She had caught up on most of what she had been cheated of the previous night, and felt thoroughly rested as she remembered to close and blot the French doors before slipping into the bathroom, and enjoying another shower.
By the time she emerged, dressed, clean and coifed, Vaughn was up and waiting for his own turn in the shower.
"I'll call down to the restaurant and order breakfast," she suggested, "while you get ready, all right?"
Vaughn agreed that this seemed like a reasonable plan, so she took his preferences before he disappeared into the bedroom, and Sydney sat down with the phone in the living area to dial down to the restaurant.
It took quite a while to make sure they had to correct order, but even so Vaughn wasn't done when she hung up, so while she was waiting Sydney slipped into her new coat and headed downstairs to take a little walk.
The streets were now crowded with people, and she delighted in losing herself in their midst. People scrambled to get their Christmas shopping completed, sometimes hauling spouses and/or children along behind them. Others seemed to be dazed, as if the whole rush had either just gotten to them, or had gotten to them so long ago that it had numbed them completely.
She watched a little girl try to convince her parents that she needed nothing in the world so badly as she needed a toy displayed in a shop window, and smiled at their exasperated pleas for her to come away with them, and wait to see what Santa brought.
Older children, not really children so much as young adults, giggled and whispered together as they ferried their own purchases homeward before the intended receiver could come along and see what they would be getting.
The whole atmosphere was a delicious one, and Sydney reveled in it, taking her time about heading back to the room.
When she did get there eventually, Vaughn looked up, unable to conceal his relief at seeing her walk through the door.
"Syd, you have no idea how worried-"
"Oh, gosh, Vaughn, I'm sorry!" she gasped. "I should have left a note, or something- knocked on the door, even, and told you- I just wanted to take a walk, and- I'm sorry. Really. It will never happen again."
The look in his eyes was haunting, and she found it oddly comforting, as well as slightly surprising, to see how worried he must have been over her absence.
"It won't ever," she repeated gently, "happen again."
He smiled slightly at her, and rubbed his face with one hand.
"I'm glad," he admitted. "Now, are you feeling up to eating? Because personally? I'm starving."
Sydney smiled.
"Let's go downstairs," she invited quietly. "We need something to eat."
***
Things loosened up over the breakfast - well, lunch, really - table, and soon they were laughing easily together.
"No, seriously," Sydney insisted, "it was my lifelong ambition to be a Sugar Plum fairy! I didn't care about Clara in the least- I just had to be a fairy."
"Well," Vaughn said, trying to wipe the colossal grin off his face by hiding it behind his napkin, "that's very- sweet, Sydney."
"Okay, okay," she rolled her eyes, "I've bared my soul to you- now it's your turn."
"What, you want embarrassing childhood stories? No way. Not gonna happen."
Sydney pouted, pleaded and implored, but Vaughn refused to budge. He simply would not give in. At last she sat back, and frowned.
"Fine, then, I'll just have to meet your mother and ask her."
Vaughn paled.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, wouldn't I?" she smirked, and he swallowed hard.
"Okay, okay. How about- um- this. My mom and dad were members of the Sea and Shore Country Club, right? Really high end, exclusive stuff. If it weren't for Dad's connections, they'd have never had a prayer for membership, but as it was he made a few calls and they got in. Mom was thrilled to pieces, and they must have spent a week planning our first Saturday there."
Sydney watched, curious, as he swallowed the rest of his orange juice before continuing.
"Well, I was only three at the time, and the whole thing seemed okay, and all- a beach, a playground, and other things that look just fine when you're that age. But what really intrigued me were the sprinklers."
"The what?" Sydney blinked.
"The sprinklers- all over the lawn. The place had a fantastic lawn. It was lush, green, and rolled on for as far as I could see. And to water it, they had dozens and dozens of sprinklers spread out across it. I thought those sprinklers were the greatest thing I had ever seen, and I wanted nothing more than to run right through them."
"Not really?" Sydney was amused.
"Yes, really," he sighed. "But of course, Mom had spent ages dressing me for the occasion. I was wearing brand new shoes, little khakis, a white shirt and a cardigan that probably cost way too much for a kid who would outgrow it in a year anyway. I knew Mom would be furious if I got any of them wet or dirty, but I really wanted to run through those sprinklers, so . . ."
Sydney gaped.
"Vaughn, please tell me you aren't saying what I think you're saying."
Vaughn blushed.
"Unfortunately, I probably am. Out of consideration for my mother's hard work, I waited until she and Dad weren't looking, carefully removed every stitch of clothing I wore, and went scampering through the sprinklers absolutely bare naked."
Try as she might to be sympathetic, Sydney just couldn't help it.
She laughed until she cried.
***
"I think it was very heartless of you," Vaughn grumbled, as they made their way back to the elevators. "Half the restaurant turned to stare."
"I am so sorry, I just- I- Vaughn," she doubled over, giggling, "bare naked?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Go on, then, have a good laugh. I'll just have to ask your father for more embarrassing stories about you."
"Humph," Sydney sniffed, pressing the button to summon the car, "as if you'd get any out of him."
Vaughn had to admit that it would probably be difficult, to say the least, but that didn't mean he wasn't determined to try.
"The question still remains, though," he added, "of what we're going to do with ourselves for the rest of the day. We still have-" he checked his watch, "a good four or five hours left to put in before you might want to start dressing for dinner, so what would you like for us to do with them?"
"I suppose," Sydney sighed, "that riding is out of the question?"
Vaughn winced, suddenly reminded of the aching muscles that ran the inside length of his legs.
"Quite," he said grimly, and she smiled.
"Fine, then. No riding. But how about something else?"
"Such as?" he asked suspiciously, and she shrugged.
"Oh, I don't know. There's got to be lots to do in this place, right? Do you like to swim? We could try out the pool. Or maybe the exercise room."
"I don't know . . ." Vaughn said dubiously.
Sydney brightened.
"Or," she said, "we could go shopping."
Vaughn blanched slightly.
"Shopping?"
"Sure! I still have a few things I'd like to pick up- I'm sure you do, too."
"Well, I'm not sure that-"
"And aren't I supposed to pick up that statue that's part of my cover? Not that I'll actually give it to him, but I have to do that sometime- why not today? Oh, come on, Vaughn," she pleaded, "let's go shopping!"
She looked so darn cute, he mused. And shopping? What could be the harm in that?
"All right," he sighed, "just let me brush my teeth and get my coat."
***
Two hours later, Vaughn wondered how on Earth he had let himself get roped into this mess. Not only were he and Sydney shopping, but so, it seemed, was the rest of Halifax, and they all tried to fit into the same store as they did.
It was most uncomfortable.
"Sydney," he mumbled into the shoulder of a perfect stranger's coat as they stood in some sort of antique store, "Sydney, I think I may be sick."
"Okay, honey," she said, completely unconcerned as she scooped a vase out from under the nose of another lady, "but try to lean outside, okay? They might notice if you threw up in here."
"You think?" he wondered, and Sydney considered.
"Maybe not. Hey! Hey, how much do you want for this?"
"Fifty-five, ma'am."
"I'll give you thirty!" she called back, and the proprietor didn't even think twice.
"Sold!"
As she paid for it, and the vase was wrapped, Vaughn studied the woman who was supposed to be his wife.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the conquest she had made. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she chattered with the owner of the antique store, and accented some of her words with graceful, expressive little hand gestures that reminded him of his mother.
As she accepted the tidy package and thanked the little man, he broke Vaughn's reverie by marveling,
"You have a most beautiful wife, monsieur, and I do envy you her."
Vaughn smiled, and settled his arm around Sydney's waist.
"Yeah," he smiled, looking down into her shining face, "I get that a lot."
***
After that, Vaughn didn't really mind the shopping so much. Sydney asked his opinion on what she should buy for Will, and took input on a gift for her father, though in the end it was she who spotted the well-aged coffee service all the way from Morocco.
"He loves Moroccan coffee," she murmured, as she purchased the set and a bag of beans to go with it. "I remember Mom would make him a cup every morning. Especially Christmas, though- I'd go sailing into their bedroom and land on the bed, begging them mercilessly to let me open my presents, but first, Mom would say, she had to make Daddy his coffee."
Her face grew wistful at the memory, and she smiled.
"I would lie there next to him, feeling to safe and warm cuddled up against his chest and we would talk her through it together. We'd say, 'Now she's getting the bag down, now she's grinding the beans. The hot water is just starting to boil now.' We'd detail the entire procedure, right up to when the aroma would start filling the apartment, and she would bring it in on a tray- the tall urn, and the little tiny cup. She would say that I should wait for him to have his first one in bed, but I would always beg him to let me open my gifts right away, and he would always give in.
"We'd go to the living room, and he'd have his coffee while she had her tea, and they watched me pretty much destroy the entire living room with wrapping paper and candy and toys- I was," she added matter-of-factly, "very spoiled as a child."
Vaughn thought of how Jack Bristow's eyes would rest lovingly on his child every time she entered the room and thought nobody was looking, and how Irina Derevko's gaze would hungrily follow her daughter out of the cell each time she left it, and found himself nodding.
"Yeah," he said quietly, "I can believe that."
She smiled wistfully into the distance for a moment, caught up in the sweet memory of a life too perfect to last forever, and then gave herself a brisk shake to return to the present.
"Well," she said a little breathlessly, "let's go find something for your mother, all right?"
***
They returned to the hotel room in plenty of time to dress for the evening. Vaughn had been bolted into the bathroom to shave once more while Sydney changed, and once he was done he waited until she tapped on the door to signify that she was decent.
Then he came out to find her there, makeup kit in hand, a smile on her face, and an exquisite little burgundy dress clinging to her frame. It stopped knee-length, perfect for dinner and a show, and he couldn't help but return her smile with one of his own.
"Nobody is going to be watching the ballet," he admitted frankly. "You look fantastic."
"Well, just you wait, then," she teased, "until I've put my face on, and then we'll see what you think!"
"Oh, no," he laughed. "Don't change it. Please. I don't think," his face softened, his tone becoming more serious, "that I could stand it if you changed it."
Her own smile faltered, and her cheeks deepened their flush.
"It won't look that different," she mumbled, and slipped past him, into the bathroom.
Had he gone too far? He wondered. He hoped not. But he had felt it had to be said. Now he'd embarrassed her, and for that he was truly sorry. In an effort to relive the tension, he changed the subject.
"Did you call for the limo?" he wondered, and her reply to the negative floated out.
"No, sorry, I didn't. If you would, that would be great. Oh, and be sure to tell him we'll need him at the restaurant in time for the show, won't you?"
Vaughn promised he would, and by the time he had made the call, Sydney was done. She'd left her hair down and shining, and had ever-so-slightly contoured her cheekbones with the blusher so that her whole face seemed to glow. Vaughn swallowed hard.
"Are you ready?" he wondered, and she tilted her head.
"Why? Don't I look it?"
"Oh- yes." He gasped. "Yes, you do."
She smiled, pleased.
"Good. I'm glad. Now, could you please pass me my coat? Our reservation is in twenty minutes, and we don't want to lose it."
***
The restaurant they had eventually settled for was beautiful. Mid-size, pleasantly secluded with muted lighting, soft music and quiet staff. Once they had been seated and Vaughn requested a wine list, they sat back to soak up the ambience. Candlelight flickered from the tall candlesticks that rose on the table between them, Christmas carols played softly in the background, and the world outside looked like a winter wonderland.
"It's lovely," Sydney sighed, her gaze drifting out the window to the snowy streets. "Absolutely lovely."
Vaughn watched her intently.
"Yeah," he said, "it is."
She turned her head and caught his look, her eyes lighting up with a quizzical smile.
"What?" she asked, and he affected a look of surprise.
"What do you mean, 'what'? You made a comment, and I agreed with you."
"No," she smiled, "I made a comment, and you made a different one. I can tell- it's something in the tone of your voice."
Vaughn rolled his eyes as the wine list was brought to their table.
"That's some imagination you have, Mrs. Green," he teased her. "Now, how does a nice Jost sound to you?"
"Not as good as a straight answer," she said crisply, "but I suppose it will have to do."
Vaughn nodded to the waiter.
"A half bottle, please."
The waiter nodded.
"Very good, Sir."
Vaughn turned back to his date, and smiled.
"Now, a straight answer I won't give you, but your Christmas gift I will."
"My what?" she looked at him, surprised.
"Your Christmas gift,." He repeated. "We might not get the chance tomorrow night, so I thought I'd give it to you now. That is," he added, "if you want it."
Sydney held out her hands in response, and Vaughn laughed at the "Gimme, gimme" look on her face.
"All right, all right. Close your eyes."
She looked at him, surprised.
"What is, this, charades?"
"Close your eyes," he insisted, and she rolled them, but he remained firm.
"I'm not going to give you your gift until you close your eyes," he maintained, so at last she closed them, and waited.
Before he handed it to her, he cautioned,
"You have to keep it upright, okay? Don't tilt it, or anything."
She nodded that she would, so he reached over the table and pressed something cold, hard and smooth into her palms. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was holding a diminutive fishbowl, in which swam a brightly-coloured fish, trailing long silky-looking fins behind him like so many royal robes.
Her eyes opened wide.
"Vaughn, he's gorgeous!"
Vaughn grinned.
"He's a Siamese fighting fish- a beta. A very solitary fish- he's lethal. Males will fight each other to the death, so don't get any ideas about giving him company. I just thought, when you were talking about wanting a pet- maybe he'll do, until all this is over."
Her eyes shone as she smiled at him.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you so much."
She then returned her gaze to her vibrantly-coloured acquisition, and watched in awe as he shimmered his way around in the water.
"However did you carry him without tipping him over?" she marveled, and Vaughn laughed.
"It took some doing, I won't deny. Once you jostled me in the limo and I was sure I'd have to blow the whole surprise right then and there, in order to save his life, but I managed to keep him level the whole way along. What do you think you'll call him?"
Sydney studied the bowl attentively. The fish was mostly a deep, vibrant blue, with hints of purple and gold running along the raggedy edges of his fins.
"I don't know. He's so beautiful- I find it hard to name really beautiful things."
"Take your time," Vaughn smiled, "it's not like you have to train him to come when he's called, or anything."
"No," Sydney agreed, "I guess not."
The steward arrived with the wine, then, and Vaughn engaged himself in tasting it before accepting the bottle, which was left for them.
Supper was ordered and subsequently brought, and they managed to lose themselves in conversation over it. They talked about their families, Christmases past, and plans for Christmases to come.
"I want my daughters in little red flannel nightgowns," Sydney said, determined, "and for as long as I can force them into them, my sons are going to wear those one-piece union suits - red - with trap doors."
Vaughn blinked.
"I had one of those."
Sydney gaped.
"You did not."
"I did. I wore it until I was five. The buttons broke off, so the trap door hung down, but I didn't care, and until my mom threw it out I insisted on wearing it, and- and I cannot believe I am telling you this. It must be the wine." He blushed furiously, and Sydney laughed.
"I think it's really adorable," she said sincerely, as their dessert was served. "I really do. Do you have any pictures?"
"No!" he blurted. "No, no I do not!"
She eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing, electing instead to focus on the rich, spicy gingerbread the waiter had placed before her.
"Applesauce, Madam?" she wondered, and she nodded.
"Please."
He poured it liberally over the cake, and when he was done she took a bite. Her eyes widened.
"Mm, that's good," she sighed, and since Vaughn was in complete agreement they finished their dessert in sweet silence, mouths too full to speak.
It wasn't much later that he assisted her and the fishbowl out to the limousine, and gave their intended destination.
"Did you enjoy your meal, Sir?" the driver wondered, and Vaughn nodded, smiling.
"It was wonderful, thank you- I'm sorry, I don't believe we even know your name, do we?"
"George, Sir. George Henderson."
"Well, George, the dinner was lovely, thank you, and I hope the ballet will follow suit."
"Oh, I'm sure it will, Sir," George said confidently, "I'm sure it will."
***
George was right. They were not in the least disappointed- it was beautiful.
The music was as stirring as Sydney remembered it being, the performances filled with passion and vibrancy. The colours were a tantalizing delight to the senses, swirling and blending across the stage until one was no longer sure of where anything ended or began.
By the time the curtain finally came down, she was out of breath and in a world all her own.
"I'd forgotten," she whispered, "how wonderful it was . . ."
She remembered all too well the nights of holding her mother's hand as she leaned forward as far as she could in the opera box, straining for every possible glimpse of the stage. Laura Bristow had laughed and smiled, her hand tracing teasing circles on her daughter's shoulder as her child quivered in delight of the marvelous spectacle she saw before her.
"It won't go away if you blink," Sydney," she had chided lovingly, but even though Sydney doubted her mother would ever lie to her, you could never be too sure about these things . . .
Now, Sydney sighed, and tugged her coat a little tighter around her, careful to remember the fish she had tucked under her chair upon their arrival.
"Come on, Michael," she mumbled, "let's go home . . ."
***
Sydney fell asleep in the limo on the way back to the hotel, and as she slept, her head resting against Vaughn's shoulder, he took the opportunity to study her.
She was striking, even in repose, and there was an added vulnerability about her when she slept that made him feel strangely protective of her- something he was sure he would never feel in daylight. Sydney Bristow could tale care of herself, thank you very much, but for the moment she was completely exposed to the world, and it made him want to keep her safe.
Almost without realizing what he was doing, Vaughn leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. She stirred, but didn't wake and he told himself it had been only for the sake of preserving their cover.
He told himself- but convincing himself was another thing entirely. There were some things even Vaughn found hard to do, and this one he found well nigh impossible.