A/N: Thank you again for bearing with me and my sometimes unreliable computer. Andi, as I said, is still having a block, but the last chapter should be out eventually.
***
Sydney, struggling up the stairs, groaned when she heard the admission.
"I'll kill you," she promised. "With my bare hands, Michael, I will do you in."
"I don't think you'll have to," Vaughn admitted. "This fellow seems willing to accept responsibility for that chore himself, if it's all the same to you."
"Oh, Michael . . ." she whispered, wincing, wishing she didn't feel so helpless. "I'm so sorry . . ."
***
"Give them to me," the bodyguard demanded, advancing slowly on Vaughn.
"Give what to you?" Vaughn asked innocently.
"Whatever it was you took from Mr. Wallace's safe! Hand it over, now."
"I'm sorry," Vaughn said apologetically, "but I 'm afraid that I really don't know what it is that you're talking about. Mr. Wallace mentioned earlier that I might be interested in taking a look at his security system- I'm looking to upgrade my own. I thought I'd take the liberty of looking around. I didn't take anything from the safe- just wanted to see how secure it was. And," he added, "it doesn't seem to be very secure at all."
The man was obviously not buying this. He moved forward still further, the gun never lowering so much as a fraction.
"I said," he ordered grimly, "give it to me."
It was actually Sydney who obliged him, appearing in the doorway and slamming one of the metal crutches against the back of his head with every ounce of strength she possessed.
The man crumpled to the floor, and her look of relief quickly changed to dismay as she toppled over, too, having overbalanced herself with the swing.
Vaughn caught her before she hit the ground, though, and helped her back up.
"Thanks," he breathed, and she shrugged, smiling.
"Hey, you owe me two dances, remember? Couldn't let you get out of them that easily. Now, we'd better be careful- Wallace is still downstairs, and he knows something is up. We have to leave, Michael- now."
He nodded, then did a double take.
"You called me Michael."
She hesitated, then nodded.
"I know."
"But- we're alone now. You don't have to."
She smiled slightly.
"Maybe I want to."
He looked at her for a minute, not quite believing. Then he smiled.
"Fine. Call me Michael. Now, let's go, all right?"
She nodded, and fitted the crutches under her arms once more. Vaughn watched as she hobbled along for a minute, before he reached out and gently stopped her.
"With that leg, it's going to take you a long time. And I'm sorry, we just don't have that, so . . ."
He bent down, and before she could protest he had scooped her and the crutches up into his arms. She made a weak little negative head motion, but he ignored it, and walked on.
"Just for once," he begged her, "don't be so strong, okay? I know how tough you are, Syd- you don't need this sort of thing. Not usually. But just this time, please, see that you need it, okay? And see that I don't mind offering it at all."
Sydney looked as if she might still protest, but then changed her mind, and, smiling, nodded.
"Fine. But," she cautioned, "you owe me another dance for this."
Vaughn laughed.
"Nothing could make me happier," he told her sincerely. "Now, just one more flight of stairs, and we'll call George, and go-"
"Nowhere," Charles Wallace said coldly.
Vaughn looked up, and winced.
He had a gun. Why, oh why, did he have to have a gun?
Vaughn froze, then tightened his grip on Sydney.
"Look," he said, "I think there must be some sort of mistake, here. We were- well, my wife wasn't feeling very well. As you can see, she's had an accident, and somebody said they thought there was a room upstairs with a couch in it. If we're somewhere we shouldn't be, then we apologise, of course and-"
"Save it," Wallace advised him grimly. "I have an intercom system in several rooms in my house, my den included, that runs to a link I can wear in my ear, and it just so happens that tonight, I left it on. I heard every word that passed between you and Rick, and I know perfectly well you weren't there looking for a couch."
Sydney's fingers tightened in Vaughn's lapel, and she bit her lip. If there was anything she hated, it was to know that there was nothing she could do, and this was one of those situations where there was really nothing she could do.
"Now," Wallace said calmly, "I wouldn't for the world dream of disrupting my lovely party and upsetting all of these wonderful people just for the sake of a few papers, so why don't you just make this easier on all of us, and give back whatever it was you took from me? I will let you walk out the doors and away from this without a scratch- quite a generous offer, seeing as at the moment, you have everything to lose and nothing to gain by a refusal."
Vaughn didn't like the way the gun dipped slightly so that it was aimed at Sydney when he said "everything to lose," and he was surprised to find that there was no conflict warring within him. He would have thought, even a day ago, that he would find it hard to make such a choice, but not he couldn't even think that there might be any other alternative.
"Of course," he said calmly. "Just let me put her down, and I'll give them to you."
"Michael, no!" Sydney clutched at his shirt. He gave her an amused little smile.
"Syd, I really don't think he's given me much choice, do you? Now, I'm going to set you down- can you stand all right?"
"I- yeah, I think so, but-"
Michael didn't wait to listen to her protests, but set her down ever so carefully before removing his hands from their resting spots on her waist, and steadying her gently. She glanced up at him, worried, and wobbled slightly.
She hissed slightly in pain when her foot brushed the ground, but soon regained her balance.
"Michael, be careful."
"I will, don't worry." He pulled away from her.
Wallace was still sneering at Vaughn, his foot tapping impatiently.
"All right," Vaughn said calmly, "you can have it, but first you have to promise me my wife's safety."
"Done. Now give me the file." Wallace held out his hand, his gun holding steady on Sydney.
Vaughn stepped out cautiously, knowing what the only chance they had was, prepared to do it, but still rather unable to believe that he was about to do it.
The second he judged his body to be completely filling their captor's line of fire he whipped around, swinging his legs underneath Wallace. The man fell heavily to the ground, the gun discharging, the bullet flying harmlessly up into the ornately-sculpted ceiling.
Vaughn immediately stomped his foot on the wrist connected to the gun, causing Wallace to gasp out in pain. He leaned over and wrenched the gun from Wallace's hand and pistol-whipped his with it, causing his head to loll.
"Okay, Syd. Let's get out of here."
Sydney raised an eyebrow at the unconscious man, and slid her arm through Vaughn's elbow.
"I'm impressed," she murmured, as he helped her down the stairs. "Very - ouch! - impressed."
"Here," he scooped her up once more, and she shook her head feebly.
"Michael, no, don't bother, I'm fine, really, I-"
"Shh. You aren't. Now, let's go."
A few people looked up, smiling, as Vaughn carried his "wife" across the foyer, making his apologies to the people they had spoken with as he went.
"She just isn't up to it," he explained, and there were understanding nods all around. The nods, though, changed to giggles and murmurs as they reached the doorway, and Vaughn looked back, curious.
"What is it?" he wondered, and Amy Webber spoke, her eyes sparkling.
"Look up, Michael."
He did, and felt his face immediately flush a deep, burning crimson.
He stood, with Sydney in his arms, directly under the mistletoe.
She looked up at him, laughing despite the twinges of pain that were threading their way up her leg, and arched an eyebrow.
"Well, Mr. Green?" she wondered. "How do you plan to get us out of this one?"
He smiled.
"Any suggestions?"
She considered.
"I have one . . ."
It wasn't so much a suggestion, really, as a demonstration. She reached up, fitted her hand around the back of his neck, and pulled his face down to hers. Their lips met with considerably more force than either had originally intended, and appreciative cheers burst out all around the foyer.
"They think," Vaughn mumbled, when at last they reluctantly broke their kiss, "they think we- we do this all the time."
"Well," Sydney said softly, "I don't feel like we do."
"No?"
He leaned in.
"Maybe we can try to create the illusion, at least . . ."
There was an abundance of coos as they kissed once again, for a considerably more drawn-out period of time. Then, blushing and grinning like fools in love, they collected their coats and went outside where George was waiting to drive them back.
"The hotel, George," Vaughn said quietly, "and then- then we'll be gong home."
George nodded.
"Very good, Mr. Green."
He helped them into the back and walked around to the front, not seeing the couple, supposedly so happily married, sit at extreme opposite sides of the backseat, expressions troubled and confused as they tried to figure out what had just happened between them; as they tried to figure out if they even wanted to know.
***
Sydney remained with her crutches in the back seat of the limousine while Vaughn went into the hotel to gather their bags, the fish, and check them out of the hotel. She watched the snowy landscape remain unchanging, and envied it its constancy. If only life, she mused, could be even half as stable . . .
When he returned, he passed the fish over without a word, and she clutched it on her lap as they rode in silence to the airport. They had traveled several blocks without exchanging even a glance when both simultaneously took advantage of the rolled-up privacy window to turn to each other and speak.
"Vaughn-"
"Sydney-"
They broke off, smiling, and he gestured for her to speak, but she shook her head, and ducked her head to look at her new pet, swimming around in a little Mason jar.
"I'll need to name him," she murmured at last.
"There's no rush," he reminded her, but she just shook her head.
"Everything needs a name," she insisted, so Vaughn considered carefully.
"Scales? Fins?"
"A real name, Michael," she laughed, so he shrugged.
"I don't know, then. Just- just name him something to remind you of this trip, okay? So every time you look at him, you can remember. I don't want- I don't want you to forget it."
Sydney's lips twisted up in a sweet smile.
"As if I could," she sighed, then studied the fish.
"Something to remind me of the trip, hmm?"
She was still considering, when Vaughn spoke to her again.
"I- Sydney, I- about our time here, I- well, I just wanted you to know- I enjoyed it. A lot."
Sydney nodded, smiling.
"I know. I did too. I just . . ."
She shook her head, searching for words.
"I just . . ." she hesitated, unsure of how she ought to proceed. "These past few days . . . I've had a lot of fun, Michael, and I want to thank you for that. I don't- I don't always get to feel so normal, even if it is only for show. I enjoyed it. A lot. And I guess- I guess I just wanted to thank you for being a part of it."
Vaughn's face broke into a smile.
"You even enjoyed spraining your ankle?"
"Well," she blushed, "that part, I'll admit, was a little less than thrilling. But the whole experience . . . the being real, even if it wasn't all real . . . that, I loved, and that, I'll never forget."
Vaughn nodded, his smile still present, but sadder, too.
"I wish . . . " he hesitated, then spoke boldly, "I wish it could have been. Real, I mean. I saw- I saw how much fun you had. I know you don't get to have a lot of fun these days, and . . . well, for your sake, I wish we could have stayed even a day more, so you could have had it just a bit longer. If I could have given you any Christmas gift," he spoke with such sincerity it nearly made her cry, "that is what I would have given you."
She unbuckled her belt to relocate herself to sit beside him, so she could snuggle in under his waiting arm. They sat like that, his arm draped around her shoulders, for the remainder of the ride to the airport.
A ride that, like the delightful little charade they had created over the past few days, was over all too soon.
***
Chapter 7 should show up eventually, whenever Andi gets it finished. Thanks for being patient with my faulty computer and reading anyway!
***
Sydney, struggling up the stairs, groaned when she heard the admission.
"I'll kill you," she promised. "With my bare hands, Michael, I will do you in."
"I don't think you'll have to," Vaughn admitted. "This fellow seems willing to accept responsibility for that chore himself, if it's all the same to you."
"Oh, Michael . . ." she whispered, wincing, wishing she didn't feel so helpless. "I'm so sorry . . ."
***
"Give them to me," the bodyguard demanded, advancing slowly on Vaughn.
"Give what to you?" Vaughn asked innocently.
"Whatever it was you took from Mr. Wallace's safe! Hand it over, now."
"I'm sorry," Vaughn said apologetically, "but I 'm afraid that I really don't know what it is that you're talking about. Mr. Wallace mentioned earlier that I might be interested in taking a look at his security system- I'm looking to upgrade my own. I thought I'd take the liberty of looking around. I didn't take anything from the safe- just wanted to see how secure it was. And," he added, "it doesn't seem to be very secure at all."
The man was obviously not buying this. He moved forward still further, the gun never lowering so much as a fraction.
"I said," he ordered grimly, "give it to me."
It was actually Sydney who obliged him, appearing in the doorway and slamming one of the metal crutches against the back of his head with every ounce of strength she possessed.
The man crumpled to the floor, and her look of relief quickly changed to dismay as she toppled over, too, having overbalanced herself with the swing.
Vaughn caught her before she hit the ground, though, and helped her back up.
"Thanks," he breathed, and she shrugged, smiling.
"Hey, you owe me two dances, remember? Couldn't let you get out of them that easily. Now, we'd better be careful- Wallace is still downstairs, and he knows something is up. We have to leave, Michael- now."
He nodded, then did a double take.
"You called me Michael."
She hesitated, then nodded.
"I know."
"But- we're alone now. You don't have to."
She smiled slightly.
"Maybe I want to."
He looked at her for a minute, not quite believing. Then he smiled.
"Fine. Call me Michael. Now, let's go, all right?"
She nodded, and fitted the crutches under her arms once more. Vaughn watched as she hobbled along for a minute, before he reached out and gently stopped her.
"With that leg, it's going to take you a long time. And I'm sorry, we just don't have that, so . . ."
He bent down, and before she could protest he had scooped her and the crutches up into his arms. She made a weak little negative head motion, but he ignored it, and walked on.
"Just for once," he begged her, "don't be so strong, okay? I know how tough you are, Syd- you don't need this sort of thing. Not usually. But just this time, please, see that you need it, okay? And see that I don't mind offering it at all."
Sydney looked as if she might still protest, but then changed her mind, and, smiling, nodded.
"Fine. But," she cautioned, "you owe me another dance for this."
Vaughn laughed.
"Nothing could make me happier," he told her sincerely. "Now, just one more flight of stairs, and we'll call George, and go-"
"Nowhere," Charles Wallace said coldly.
Vaughn looked up, and winced.
He had a gun. Why, oh why, did he have to have a gun?
Vaughn froze, then tightened his grip on Sydney.
"Look," he said, "I think there must be some sort of mistake, here. We were- well, my wife wasn't feeling very well. As you can see, she's had an accident, and somebody said they thought there was a room upstairs with a couch in it. If we're somewhere we shouldn't be, then we apologise, of course and-"
"Save it," Wallace advised him grimly. "I have an intercom system in several rooms in my house, my den included, that runs to a link I can wear in my ear, and it just so happens that tonight, I left it on. I heard every word that passed between you and Rick, and I know perfectly well you weren't there looking for a couch."
Sydney's fingers tightened in Vaughn's lapel, and she bit her lip. If there was anything she hated, it was to know that there was nothing she could do, and this was one of those situations where there was really nothing she could do.
"Now," Wallace said calmly, "I wouldn't for the world dream of disrupting my lovely party and upsetting all of these wonderful people just for the sake of a few papers, so why don't you just make this easier on all of us, and give back whatever it was you took from me? I will let you walk out the doors and away from this without a scratch- quite a generous offer, seeing as at the moment, you have everything to lose and nothing to gain by a refusal."
Vaughn didn't like the way the gun dipped slightly so that it was aimed at Sydney when he said "everything to lose," and he was surprised to find that there was no conflict warring within him. He would have thought, even a day ago, that he would find it hard to make such a choice, but not he couldn't even think that there might be any other alternative.
"Of course," he said calmly. "Just let me put her down, and I'll give them to you."
"Michael, no!" Sydney clutched at his shirt. He gave her an amused little smile.
"Syd, I really don't think he's given me much choice, do you? Now, I'm going to set you down- can you stand all right?"
"I- yeah, I think so, but-"
Michael didn't wait to listen to her protests, but set her down ever so carefully before removing his hands from their resting spots on her waist, and steadying her gently. She glanced up at him, worried, and wobbled slightly.
She hissed slightly in pain when her foot brushed the ground, but soon regained her balance.
"Michael, be careful."
"I will, don't worry." He pulled away from her.
Wallace was still sneering at Vaughn, his foot tapping impatiently.
"All right," Vaughn said calmly, "you can have it, but first you have to promise me my wife's safety."
"Done. Now give me the file." Wallace held out his hand, his gun holding steady on Sydney.
Vaughn stepped out cautiously, knowing what the only chance they had was, prepared to do it, but still rather unable to believe that he was about to do it.
The second he judged his body to be completely filling their captor's line of fire he whipped around, swinging his legs underneath Wallace. The man fell heavily to the ground, the gun discharging, the bullet flying harmlessly up into the ornately-sculpted ceiling.
Vaughn immediately stomped his foot on the wrist connected to the gun, causing Wallace to gasp out in pain. He leaned over and wrenched the gun from Wallace's hand and pistol-whipped his with it, causing his head to loll.
"Okay, Syd. Let's get out of here."
Sydney raised an eyebrow at the unconscious man, and slid her arm through Vaughn's elbow.
"I'm impressed," she murmured, as he helped her down the stairs. "Very - ouch! - impressed."
"Here," he scooped her up once more, and she shook her head feebly.
"Michael, no, don't bother, I'm fine, really, I-"
"Shh. You aren't. Now, let's go."
A few people looked up, smiling, as Vaughn carried his "wife" across the foyer, making his apologies to the people they had spoken with as he went.
"She just isn't up to it," he explained, and there were understanding nods all around. The nods, though, changed to giggles and murmurs as they reached the doorway, and Vaughn looked back, curious.
"What is it?" he wondered, and Amy Webber spoke, her eyes sparkling.
"Look up, Michael."
He did, and felt his face immediately flush a deep, burning crimson.
He stood, with Sydney in his arms, directly under the mistletoe.
She looked up at him, laughing despite the twinges of pain that were threading their way up her leg, and arched an eyebrow.
"Well, Mr. Green?" she wondered. "How do you plan to get us out of this one?"
He smiled.
"Any suggestions?"
She considered.
"I have one . . ."
It wasn't so much a suggestion, really, as a demonstration. She reached up, fitted her hand around the back of his neck, and pulled his face down to hers. Their lips met with considerably more force than either had originally intended, and appreciative cheers burst out all around the foyer.
"They think," Vaughn mumbled, when at last they reluctantly broke their kiss, "they think we- we do this all the time."
"Well," Sydney said softly, "I don't feel like we do."
"No?"
He leaned in.
"Maybe we can try to create the illusion, at least . . ."
There was an abundance of coos as they kissed once again, for a considerably more drawn-out period of time. Then, blushing and grinning like fools in love, they collected their coats and went outside where George was waiting to drive them back.
"The hotel, George," Vaughn said quietly, "and then- then we'll be gong home."
George nodded.
"Very good, Mr. Green."
He helped them into the back and walked around to the front, not seeing the couple, supposedly so happily married, sit at extreme opposite sides of the backseat, expressions troubled and confused as they tried to figure out what had just happened between them; as they tried to figure out if they even wanted to know.
***
Sydney remained with her crutches in the back seat of the limousine while Vaughn went into the hotel to gather their bags, the fish, and check them out of the hotel. She watched the snowy landscape remain unchanging, and envied it its constancy. If only life, she mused, could be even half as stable . . .
When he returned, he passed the fish over without a word, and she clutched it on her lap as they rode in silence to the airport. They had traveled several blocks without exchanging even a glance when both simultaneously took advantage of the rolled-up privacy window to turn to each other and speak.
"Vaughn-"
"Sydney-"
They broke off, smiling, and he gestured for her to speak, but she shook her head, and ducked her head to look at her new pet, swimming around in a little Mason jar.
"I'll need to name him," she murmured at last.
"There's no rush," he reminded her, but she just shook her head.
"Everything needs a name," she insisted, so Vaughn considered carefully.
"Scales? Fins?"
"A real name, Michael," she laughed, so he shrugged.
"I don't know, then. Just- just name him something to remind you of this trip, okay? So every time you look at him, you can remember. I don't want- I don't want you to forget it."
Sydney's lips twisted up in a sweet smile.
"As if I could," she sighed, then studied the fish.
"Something to remind me of the trip, hmm?"
She was still considering, when Vaughn spoke to her again.
"I- Sydney, I- about our time here, I- well, I just wanted you to know- I enjoyed it. A lot."
Sydney nodded, smiling.
"I know. I did too. I just . . ."
She shook her head, searching for words.
"I just . . ." she hesitated, unsure of how she ought to proceed. "These past few days . . . I've had a lot of fun, Michael, and I want to thank you for that. I don't- I don't always get to feel so normal, even if it is only for show. I enjoyed it. A lot. And I guess- I guess I just wanted to thank you for being a part of it."
Vaughn's face broke into a smile.
"You even enjoyed spraining your ankle?"
"Well," she blushed, "that part, I'll admit, was a little less than thrilling. But the whole experience . . . the being real, even if it wasn't all real . . . that, I loved, and that, I'll never forget."
Vaughn nodded, his smile still present, but sadder, too.
"I wish . . . " he hesitated, then spoke boldly, "I wish it could have been. Real, I mean. I saw- I saw how much fun you had. I know you don't get to have a lot of fun these days, and . . . well, for your sake, I wish we could have stayed even a day more, so you could have had it just a bit longer. If I could have given you any Christmas gift," he spoke with such sincerity it nearly made her cry, "that is what I would have given you."
She unbuckled her belt to relocate herself to sit beside him, so she could snuggle in under his waiting arm. They sat like that, his arm draped around her shoulders, for the remainder of the ride to the airport.
A ride that, like the delightful little charade they had created over the past few days, was over all too soon.
***
Chapter 7 should show up eventually, whenever Andi gets it finished. Thanks for being patient with my faulty computer and reading anyway!