TITLE: Dreaming
AUTHOR: Abby O.
CATEGORY: Angst, S/V
SPOILERS: "A Dark Turn"
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Post-"A Dark Turn"
DISCLAIMER: These characters are ALL JJ's, not mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first fanfic so your thoughts are appreciated ( Be easy on me, eh? ;) E-mail me at abbyo3@hotmail.com
* * * * * * * *
"These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time can not erase"
-- "My Immortal" by Evanescence
* * * * * * * *
The dreams did go away...eventually. The ones where you suddenly find yourself spilling the details of the next operation to someone you aren't supposed to be talking to. Or the ones where you're on a date and all you can say when you're asked a question is, "Sorry, that's classified." When he was a young inexperienced agent, Vaughn had his fair share of these stressful nightmares that forced him to wake up in a cold sweat at least two nights a week. The dreams about the CIA ended over time. The dreams about his father, however, did not.
He could still see himself standing in the kitchen doorway one day after school, his hair mussed and his jeans torn from a rough game of kickball during recess. His cheerful and carefree life was turned upside-down with three heartbreaking words spoken by his mother.
"He's gone, Michael," she sobbed.
Suddenly, his feet seemed to be cemented to the ground and time had stood still. He didn't even have to ask who because he knew immediately who his mother was talking about. He had lost his father...his hero. His best friend. They were supposed to go to the ice skating rink that following Friday to follow up on a bet he had made earlier that week.
"Dad, I can skate faster than you any time anywhere!"
"You think so, huh?" he challenged, ruffling the young boy's sandy blonde hair with his palm.
"I know so," Michael said matter-of-factly, puffing his chest out.
"Well, how about this...this weekend, we'll go up to the rink and we'll race. If you win, I'll take you out for ice cream. If I win..." he bent down to whisper in his ear, making sure that his mom didn't hear, "...you have to promise that you won't gawk at Grandpa's teeth anymore with that disgusted look on your face whenever he pulls it out of his mouth."
Michael laughed out loud, eliciting a smile from his father. "Not a chance!" he giggled.
"Take it or leave it, Mikey."
"Okay, okay. Deal!" And they shook on it.
To this day, he would still dream about that particular moment in his life. He would see himself sitting alone in his room, hugging the LA Kings stuffed hockey puck his father had given him for Christmas, and he felt so incredibly alone. "I don't care who wins the bet anymore, Dad," he cried. "I just wanna see you again...I just -- I just need you to come back. Please..."
He never did.
* * * * * * * *
He bolted up from the bed, breathing heavily as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. The darkness enveloped him save for the dim glow that a street lamp outside provided. Surveying his surroundings, he realized that he was in his bedroom. Sydney was sound asleep beside him, his sudden movements not stirring her at all. He ran his fingers through his hair as he steadied his breathing. Recently, the dreams had become more and more frequent...dreams about his father. The stress over his investigation on Irina Derevko certainly wasn't helping, especially since he was coming up empty-handed.
He looked at the clock on his bedside table and it glared at him with irritating red numbers: 3:42 AM. Letting out a sigh, Vaughn quietly got up from the bed and walked over to the window. Wearing his most comfortable pair of gray sweat pants and a white t-shirt, he stood quietly and listened to the quickening sound of the rain. How fitting for his mood, he thought.
Sydney discovered the research he had been doing earlier that day and she understood his motives. His passion. They had gone home together that night, opting to order some Chinese food instead for neither one was in the mood to go to a fancy restaurant as they had originally planned. Things between them were still tense, but she knew that when he was ready, he would talk to her about all this. They went to bed, giving each other a quick kiss good night, and not saying a word more. He hated feeling like he left things unfinished, which was exactly what he did. Her mother was perhaps the most difficult topic of conversation for him but he knew that at one point, they would have to deal with it. He didn't want to shut her out, but he wasn't nearly ready to confront the issue full-force.
Time had passed aimlessly and he didn't know how long he had been standing there until Sydney called his name softly in the dark. He turned around to see her sitting up in bed, still half asleep and still managing to look adorable even with her hair in a fair amount of disarray. Offering her a small smile, he said, "Go back to sleep, Syd."
"You okay?"
"I will be. Just get some rest," he assured her. He wasn't surprised at all when she got up, straightened her tank top a little bit, and made her way over to him. That was his Sydney; so stubborn that he couldn't help but love her for it. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. They shared a few comfortable minutes of silence, just listening to the rain hit whatever was in its way as it fell.
"What are you thinking about?" she whispered.
He put his hands over hers on his abdomen and tilted his head back a little to rest against her. "My father," he answered.
She didn't know what to say to him to ease the pain, and it killed her to know that her mother was responsible for the suffering he endured and was still going through.
"We made this bet a few days before he died...to see who could skate faster. And I was being so cocky and arrogant, saying I could beat him even though I knew in my heart that he could kick my ass," he chuckled ruefully.
Sydney couldn't help but smile as she pictured Vaughn as a little boy, thinking he was on top of the world. However, she knew that when he was with his father, he was.
"He taught me so much about hockey and life...and everything. I could talk to him about anything and one day, just like that, he couldn't be there for me anymore. Even up until high school, I still half expected him to walk through the front door," he sighed, closing his eyes.
"Vaughn, I'm so sorry..."
He turned around to face her. "I told you, you don't ever have to--"
"I know, but I need to." She fought back the tears that burned her eyes, aching to somehow turn back the hands of time. "I don't think I can ever understand the kind of pain you're feeling and I'm so angry at myself for even doubting or questioning you...I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could fix this," she said quietly, her eyes finding the floor.
He tilted her chin up with his finger, forcing her eyes to meet his gaze. "There is something you can do."
"What?"
"Don't ever give up on me," he said quietly.
"Vaughn..."
"If you feel like I'm shutting you out, it's not an indication of how much I care about you. It's been a while since I've felt like I can even talk about all this with somebody I trust completely...I just...it's going to take me some time to work all this out in my head."
She nodded, finally letting a quiet tear flow down her cheek. "I know...take all the time you need." She gave him a small smile, letting him know that she really did understand.
What did he ever do to deserve this woman? he asked himself. He captured her lips with his own and kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth as he had done so many other times before. His arms encircled her waist as he pulled her closer to him, needing to make sure that she was there and that she was his...to make sure he wasn't dreaming anymore.
As they pulled apart and he looked into her eyes, it seemed as if she was the only tangible thing holding his life together...and she would be all he ever needed.
* * * * * * * *
The End
AUTHOR: Abby O.
CATEGORY: Angst, S/V
SPOILERS: "A Dark Turn"
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Post-"A Dark Turn"
DISCLAIMER: These characters are ALL JJ's, not mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first fanfic so your thoughts are appreciated ( Be easy on me, eh? ;) E-mail me at abbyo3@hotmail.com
* * * * * * * *
"These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time can not erase"
-- "My Immortal" by Evanescence
* * * * * * * *
The dreams did go away...eventually. The ones where you suddenly find yourself spilling the details of the next operation to someone you aren't supposed to be talking to. Or the ones where you're on a date and all you can say when you're asked a question is, "Sorry, that's classified." When he was a young inexperienced agent, Vaughn had his fair share of these stressful nightmares that forced him to wake up in a cold sweat at least two nights a week. The dreams about the CIA ended over time. The dreams about his father, however, did not.
He could still see himself standing in the kitchen doorway one day after school, his hair mussed and his jeans torn from a rough game of kickball during recess. His cheerful and carefree life was turned upside-down with three heartbreaking words spoken by his mother.
"He's gone, Michael," she sobbed.
Suddenly, his feet seemed to be cemented to the ground and time had stood still. He didn't even have to ask who because he knew immediately who his mother was talking about. He had lost his father...his hero. His best friend. They were supposed to go to the ice skating rink that following Friday to follow up on a bet he had made earlier that week.
"Dad, I can skate faster than you any time anywhere!"
"You think so, huh?" he challenged, ruffling the young boy's sandy blonde hair with his palm.
"I know so," Michael said matter-of-factly, puffing his chest out.
"Well, how about this...this weekend, we'll go up to the rink and we'll race. If you win, I'll take you out for ice cream. If I win..." he bent down to whisper in his ear, making sure that his mom didn't hear, "...you have to promise that you won't gawk at Grandpa's teeth anymore with that disgusted look on your face whenever he pulls it out of his mouth."
Michael laughed out loud, eliciting a smile from his father. "Not a chance!" he giggled.
"Take it or leave it, Mikey."
"Okay, okay. Deal!" And they shook on it.
To this day, he would still dream about that particular moment in his life. He would see himself sitting alone in his room, hugging the LA Kings stuffed hockey puck his father had given him for Christmas, and he felt so incredibly alone. "I don't care who wins the bet anymore, Dad," he cried. "I just wanna see you again...I just -- I just need you to come back. Please..."
He never did.
* * * * * * * *
He bolted up from the bed, breathing heavily as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. The darkness enveloped him save for the dim glow that a street lamp outside provided. Surveying his surroundings, he realized that he was in his bedroom. Sydney was sound asleep beside him, his sudden movements not stirring her at all. He ran his fingers through his hair as he steadied his breathing. Recently, the dreams had become more and more frequent...dreams about his father. The stress over his investigation on Irina Derevko certainly wasn't helping, especially since he was coming up empty-handed.
He looked at the clock on his bedside table and it glared at him with irritating red numbers: 3:42 AM. Letting out a sigh, Vaughn quietly got up from the bed and walked over to the window. Wearing his most comfortable pair of gray sweat pants and a white t-shirt, he stood quietly and listened to the quickening sound of the rain. How fitting for his mood, he thought.
Sydney discovered the research he had been doing earlier that day and she understood his motives. His passion. They had gone home together that night, opting to order some Chinese food instead for neither one was in the mood to go to a fancy restaurant as they had originally planned. Things between them were still tense, but she knew that when he was ready, he would talk to her about all this. They went to bed, giving each other a quick kiss good night, and not saying a word more. He hated feeling like he left things unfinished, which was exactly what he did. Her mother was perhaps the most difficult topic of conversation for him but he knew that at one point, they would have to deal with it. He didn't want to shut her out, but he wasn't nearly ready to confront the issue full-force.
Time had passed aimlessly and he didn't know how long he had been standing there until Sydney called his name softly in the dark. He turned around to see her sitting up in bed, still half asleep and still managing to look adorable even with her hair in a fair amount of disarray. Offering her a small smile, he said, "Go back to sleep, Syd."
"You okay?"
"I will be. Just get some rest," he assured her. He wasn't surprised at all when she got up, straightened her tank top a little bit, and made her way over to him. That was his Sydney; so stubborn that he couldn't help but love her for it. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. They shared a few comfortable minutes of silence, just listening to the rain hit whatever was in its way as it fell.
"What are you thinking about?" she whispered.
He put his hands over hers on his abdomen and tilted his head back a little to rest against her. "My father," he answered.
She didn't know what to say to him to ease the pain, and it killed her to know that her mother was responsible for the suffering he endured and was still going through.
"We made this bet a few days before he died...to see who could skate faster. And I was being so cocky and arrogant, saying I could beat him even though I knew in my heart that he could kick my ass," he chuckled ruefully.
Sydney couldn't help but smile as she pictured Vaughn as a little boy, thinking he was on top of the world. However, she knew that when he was with his father, he was.
"He taught me so much about hockey and life...and everything. I could talk to him about anything and one day, just like that, he couldn't be there for me anymore. Even up until high school, I still half expected him to walk through the front door," he sighed, closing his eyes.
"Vaughn, I'm so sorry..."
He turned around to face her. "I told you, you don't ever have to--"
"I know, but I need to." She fought back the tears that burned her eyes, aching to somehow turn back the hands of time. "I don't think I can ever understand the kind of pain you're feeling and I'm so angry at myself for even doubting or questioning you...I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could fix this," she said quietly, her eyes finding the floor.
He tilted her chin up with his finger, forcing her eyes to meet his gaze. "There is something you can do."
"What?"
"Don't ever give up on me," he said quietly.
"Vaughn..."
"If you feel like I'm shutting you out, it's not an indication of how much I care about you. It's been a while since I've felt like I can even talk about all this with somebody I trust completely...I just...it's going to take me some time to work all this out in my head."
She nodded, finally letting a quiet tear flow down her cheek. "I know...take all the time you need." She gave him a small smile, letting him know that she really did understand.
What did he ever do to deserve this woman? he asked himself. He captured her lips with his own and kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth as he had done so many other times before. His arms encircled her waist as he pulled her closer to him, needing to make sure that she was there and that she was his...to make sure he wasn't dreaming anymore.
As they pulled apart and he looked into her eyes, it seemed as if she was the only tangible thing holding his life together...and she would be all he ever needed.
* * * * * * * *
The End