They had returned to normal after so long of the extreme abnormal.
The three of them had returned from the beach, smelling of sticky sea salt
and fresh ocean sand. Sydney had never been happier in her life, perfectly
tanned and partially sunburned on her back from the hot summer sun. The
one piece black bathing suit had left its tan-lines against her skin. Her
face shown brightly in the sun as they loaded back into the house. Her
eyes were older now, little Crow's feet had formed near her eyes. Her
brown eyes had matured and now showed the wear and tear of years as a spy.
Her freckled body was still toned and lean, not quite away from her spy
life. Her stomach was not as toned as it was in Madrid but close to it. A
wedding ring was propped on her finger, just a simple gold band, warm and
salt ridden from the day's adventures. She wore a simple sheer wrap over
her waist, that flapped as her legs moved through it, shining perfectly
purple. Her hands held tightly to a white and purple beach chair that she
promptly laid inside the door as she entered, with two other figures in
toe. Her smile lit the house that they inhabited and her laugh filled any
silence left in the LA home. "Why don't you go and take a shower, baby?"
Sydney placed her chair down and ushered in the two others.
"Okay, mom." The second figure replied, her familiar brown hair swept beyond her shoulders, sticky with the ocean's remnants. Her skin was fairer than her mother's and burned much easier. She looked like Sydney but she had her father's eyes. Her pale skin had burn and was now achingly sore but the ballet dancer's body gleamed and relished in its new color. She wore a red bikini that showed off her stomach, much to her father and grandfather's dismay. Sydney didn't mind. She would have done the same thing at seventeen. Her body was more toned than her mother's in a different way. She was destined to be a dancer and wanted to live that life more than anything. She smiled broadly at her parents and then skipped off down the hallway and to the left to remove the saltwater from her hair.
The last figure entered the home and locked the door securely behind him. There was nothing being short of too careful still. They lived a dangerous life, even eighteen years later. His skin too had bronzed and he was now even more inflexible from the sun. He wore a simple t-shirt and type of blue bathing suit shorts that kissed below his knees. Those wrinkles above his eyes had stayed permanently but the life showed more brightly in his eyes than ever. He had never been more alive. His eyes watched as his little girl walked away from him and he sighed, "Syd, she's getting older."
Sydney had made her way into the kitchen and was busying herself with finding a suitable after beach snack. "No kidding." She replied, extremely sarcastically.
"And she talked about boys today?" Vaughn replied, fearing and reliving the conversation at the beach.
Sydney turned around from the freezer, holding three cartons of ice cream in her hands, "You're kidding me with this right? Vaughn, she's seventeen." She hurried to the counter and place the cold confection down. Even after all these years, she still called him Vaughn. Portia had just come to terms with that growing up in their rather insane house.
"She talked about BOYS today, Syd." His eyes shot up as he vividly remembered the conversation on the beach, not an hour ago. "Boys, Syd!"
"And what do you think I did when I was seventeen? Discussed the latest foreign policy or the inadequacy of the basis of the state department? Yeah. Hi. No." She rolled her brown eyes at him, still standing in the doorway, starring back into the house towards the bathroom. "And she has a crush on a boy. His name's Chris." She hushed her voice and looked towards Vaughn, her eyes clearly excited by this information.
Vaughn cringed and winced, "Who names their son Chris?"
"Who names their daughter after their alias on a op? Um, no one." Sydney laughed a little bit. "She's your daughter."
Vaughn groaned again and made his way towards the couch in the center of the living room. He made his way to sit down-
"Hey!" Sydney cried, watching her husband sit down. "Put a towel under that wet butt of yours!" She cringed at the thought of the wetness and her newly upholstered couch, with its decadent black and white toile. She hurried over to the linen closet in her LA home, bought not five miles from the Joint Task Force Operations. Taking the white terry cloth in her hands, she playfully threw it at his head. "Score!" She shouted.
"Hey!" Vaughn replied just as playfully, pealing the towel off his head. "What was that for?"
"Your wet butt on my new couch!." Sydney replied, allowing the large grin to spread over her face like a goofy teenager. "No. Towel. Equals. Wet. Couch. From. Wet. Butt." She emphasized each word with a broader smile as she walked towards her husband, her head tilted to the side and her hands were tightly clasped; "Follow?"
Vaughn laughed and straightened up. "Follow." He walked over to his wife, still standing by the edge of the black and white couch and opened his arms to his wife, who happily became embraced in them. "Boys, Syd. G- d."
Sydney only laughed a replied.
"This is what your father must have felt like when we told him that we were together." Vaughn began to laugh lightly as he remembered the fateful day that Jack had found out.
"Well." Jack Bristow said with his trademark expression crossing his face. "I figured as much.
Sydney had been propped up on a cargo seat with her arms crossed over her legs. She was dressed in a racy black dress that showed off more than she wanted to show. They had been on a op together, all three of them, a few weeks after Sydney had her stitches taken out. She was strong, physically and mentally but she nearly fell over at hearing this, "You what?" Her voice was shaking and full of disbelief. "How? I mean, you-" she began to stammer.
Jack moved away from his seat for a moment and grab a towel to start to remove the heavy make-up he had applied from his face. "I figured as much. You're not very good at concealing your emotions. Either of you." He returned to his seat and starred at Vaughn, whose mouth had dropped open. "Agent Vaughn, I will tell you the same thing I told every boy that has come near my daughter. If you break her heart in any way shape or form, I will use all of my capabilities to make your life a living hell."
Back to present, Vaughn shuddered at the thought of Jack hunting him down and making his life miserable. But then, he thought that he could do the same thing to this Chris guy and managed to smile a little.
Sydney playfully punched him in the stomach, "What are you laughing at, Agent Vaughn?" She wrinkled her brow and raised her chin at him. "Something funny?"
Vaughn smiled even broader, "I was just think about what you father said to me...how I could say that to this Chris guy-" he stopped short and shook his head, letting his wet hair give off excess moisture in the process, "When did I become your father?"
Sydney buried her head in his shoulder and was unable to control the fit of giggles that erupted from her stomach. "About the time that I went diving for that Rambaldi document in the bottom of the Red Sea." She laughed even harder and straightened up to look into his eyes. "That mission sucked."
His eyes lit up at the remembrance of old memories under the Middle Eastern sky as she remembered the burning sensation that took over her body as she dove deeper and deeper into the black waters, urging herself to go on for the lost document that would tell them the true prophet was, which woman in the Bristow line that would do those things. "There were so many things that went wrong with that mission." He replied soberly, looking two inches down to his beautiful wife. "Can you believe how long ago that was?"
She shook her head silently, her arms still tightly wrapped around his lower back, with his arms wrapped around hers. "Almost eighteen year ago. It was right after we got married...we were what? Married for three months? And that's when we found out.."
"That we were pregnant with Portia."
Sydney sighed longingly at the memory of feeling so sick after she had broken to the surface and feeling the cold air press against her face and shivering. "What's this we crap? I was the one that dove how many feet? And got the artifact and was thoroughly sick to my stomach for the rest of the trip." She pulled away and her eyes began to laugh again, "I made your life hell."
Vaughn was now laughing and smiling too. "Yeah you did. But she was worth every moment of it?" He ushered her over to the couch and forced her to sit down, his arms around her. She crossed her legs over the couch and her eyes danced about the room and settled on the rows of little dots still scarring her legs from years ago. Her arms were still scared, as were Vaughn's but they had just come to view those as pride marks. Something that showed they lived through hell and lived to tell the tall.
"I should hope so." Portia appeared at the doorway, dressed in jeans shorts and a cute little t-shirt that read, "ALMOST FAMOUS." Her stride was elegant, with the ballet training had infused in her. Her toned body hopped into the gold and beige kitchen to pick up the ice cream she cleverly spied sitting there, melting. "I would honestly think that I was worth all that trouble and aggravation" she spoke with a false air of pride and ego. She continued to bounce about, smiling happily from the day's event and managed to end up in the living room and plopped on the couch. The ice cream felt cold and solid in her hands. She rested on the couch and spread her long legs out over her mother's, who sat there, with her legs folded over the side.
"You know you were, baby." Sydney replied, eagerly taking the ice cream from her daughter.
Portia laughed, throwing her sandy blonde hair back with her laughter. "That's a good thing. Imagine if I wasn't. Good thing I'm a good girl." She remarked smugly at her father. "I am most certainly a good girl." She looked just like her father but with the striking brown eyes of her mother, grandmother, and sure great-grandmother.
This caused Sydney to absolutely explode into the laughter, "Lordy, you really are your father's daughter. Always making sure everyone knows everything."
Portia snapped up straight and starred at her mother with the familiar Bristow women brown eyes. "Not necessarily. I sure as hell got your stubbornness."
Sydney laughed, "Blame your grandmother for that one. Your grandfather sure does."
"Jack blames everything on Irinia, Irinia everything on Jack, Kendall everything on Devlin and the circle continues." Vaughn replied to his daughter, who was well accustomed to things CIA. It was just another fact in her extremely bizarre life.
Sydney adjusted her body slightly against her husband's. She was older now, more refined and mature. It had been nearly eighteen years since SD-6 had discovered her and she and Vaughn had gone to Madrid. They had returned and gone almost back to normal. A relationship, a more personal relationship, developed between them and the word "protocol" was quickly erased from both of their vocabulary's. SD-6 was promptly brought down after Sloane's death and the Alliance followed in similar fashion. Three months after coming home, they announced their relationship to Irinia, who cried from happiness and Jack who reacted as so. Four months later, they were married at the most beautiful ceremony in the history of the world.
A perfect spot had been chosen on the beach, near the infamous pier. Under the sunset, . Sydney had worn a beautiful white sundress that embroidered with elegant pearl and beaded flowers. Francie was her maid of honor, naturally and was beaming more so than the bride. There was a slight breeze that had played with Sydney's hair, elegantly piled on her head with little curls escaping. Irinia stood by her, allow salty tears to escape her eyes. She had been temporarily released from CIA custody to attend. Jack stood there as well, letting his own tears to build up. His little girl was now all grown up. Felicity Vaughn had arrived right on time and instantly loved Sydney. The hardest part of the event was Felicity meeting Irinia but after an hour or so together, they both broke down into tears and hugged and laughed like old friends.
The vows were exchanged and then the rings. Vaughn's eyes were lit like candles at seeing Sydney beautiful done up into a white dress that flowed with the soft sea air. He had opted for a simple pair of black pants and a dress shirt. Their wedding was as untraditional as possible so a tux just didn't seem to be in the cards. Weiss stood next to him, as the best man. Slight bruises and scars were still evident from Madrid but it didn't matter. Sydney swore that's why make-up was created; to help spies cover their line of work. The most special event of the evening was the rings being exchanged. Likely enough, the engraving in his read "My guardian angel" and hers read, "My bluebird."
Within a few months, Sydney discovered that she was pregnant and sure enough, nine months later, a baby girl with the Bristow disposition and the Vaughn looks. The CIA hospital was busy and bustling with well wishers for the Agency's favorite couple. The only problem was what to name the already stubborn baby girl. Everyone had their input. Irinia thought it she be named for her mother, Tatiana. Jack believed that Rose was a good choice. Will and Francie were too smitten with each other to give any real input with the exception of "Whatever you want." Felicity believed a French name would be appropriate or named after William.
But it was Vaughn that came up with the idea. They had been sitting in the sterile room for a while, becoming absolutely intoxicated by the dozens of flowers sent by a variety of people. He had pushed his hands into his pocket and discovered a signed receipt from something in Madrid. It was Syd's handwriting and elegantly signed, "Portia DeMarco." He felt the smile cross his lips. "Hey, Syd?" He looked up from the piece of paper to his wife and child, happily sitting in the sitting streaming in from a nearby window.
"What baby?" Sydney looked up from her daughter and smiled at him.
"What about Portia?" He asked, watching her facial expression go from concentration, to bemusement, to happiness.
Sydney began to laugh a little bit. "After my alias on the op?"
"Seems appropriate."
"Portia what, exactly?"
"Um." He faltered quickly and began to wrack his brain for an answer.
Sydney played with the little black hair creature. "Iris. Portia Iris." The baby began to gurgle at the sound and Sydney gentled cooed over her. Her long brown hair was elegantly pulled back into a French braid and laid at the back of neck. "See? She likes it." Her graceful neck bent over and kissed the little girl on top of her head.
"She's perfect, Syd." Vaughn came over and sat next to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "You're perfect." And kissed both of his girls on the forehead.
Portia was now nearly seventeen and a supporter of the arts. Her time was dedicated in between tough honor and advanced placement tests and musical theater. She had received her mother's love for literature, her father's flare for language, Jack's sharp thinking skills, Irinia's temper, Felicity's love for performing and William's love for the world. She was their melting pot and she carried it better than anyone could have ever imagined, "Yeah, well. Everybody knows that Grandpa and Grandma will never agree on anything." She spoke, now in the present. "So when do I get to and visit her again?" She thrived on her visits to the Joint Task Force Op.
"Whenever you want, honey." Vaughn replied soberly. His daughter had so much respect for her grandmother and enjoyed sharing stories with her true confidant. He maneuvered his hands so he could continue eating his ice cream but quickly lodged his spoon into Sydney's carton.
"Hey!" she yelped at the discovery of the missing chuck on ice cream. "Eat your own!"
"Children! Easy does it!" Portia exclaimed, sighing loudly at her parents. "I don't need you two arguing! Just eat your ice-cream."
"Yes, mommy."
"Yes, mommy." They both replied, smiling and putting a pretended air of hurt on their faces. They quickly pouted their lips and turned back their ice cream.
"That's better." Portia smiled and began to laugh with Vaughn and Sydney quickly joining it.
Vaughn stopped laughing for a moment and starred at his daughter, "So, who's this Chris?"
"Vaughn!"
"Dad!" Portia stopped laughing and starred wide eyed at her father. "I can't believe you said that!"
"What? I have a right to know!"
"Vaughn!" Sydney elbowed him in the stomach, to which he groaned quickly.
He looked back and forth between his wife and daughter, shaking his head and insisting that he a right to know who Chris was and what was going on. Sydney prompted her daughter not to say anything, laughing a little bit and absolutely that this was the biggest problem facing her life; who her daughter was dating. As opposed to being discovered by a secret organization or being hunted down by some foreign operative.
Meanwhile on the other side of the world, a group of rogue agents from various organizations gathered in the cloak of darkness. Each of them had their own agenda and a list of who they wanted to bring down. One by one, the names were added to the list. One man stepped out of the shadows with his list written in black ink. Topping his list, the names P. Vaughn, M. Vaughn, J. Bristow, and finally and most importantly S. Bristow were clearly written with hate and disgust. He was one of the men in the world that still wanted the bluebird to fall and would be damned if she didn't.
"Okay, mom." The second figure replied, her familiar brown hair swept beyond her shoulders, sticky with the ocean's remnants. Her skin was fairer than her mother's and burned much easier. She looked like Sydney but she had her father's eyes. Her pale skin had burn and was now achingly sore but the ballet dancer's body gleamed and relished in its new color. She wore a red bikini that showed off her stomach, much to her father and grandfather's dismay. Sydney didn't mind. She would have done the same thing at seventeen. Her body was more toned than her mother's in a different way. She was destined to be a dancer and wanted to live that life more than anything. She smiled broadly at her parents and then skipped off down the hallway and to the left to remove the saltwater from her hair.
The last figure entered the home and locked the door securely behind him. There was nothing being short of too careful still. They lived a dangerous life, even eighteen years later. His skin too had bronzed and he was now even more inflexible from the sun. He wore a simple t-shirt and type of blue bathing suit shorts that kissed below his knees. Those wrinkles above his eyes had stayed permanently but the life showed more brightly in his eyes than ever. He had never been more alive. His eyes watched as his little girl walked away from him and he sighed, "Syd, she's getting older."
Sydney had made her way into the kitchen and was busying herself with finding a suitable after beach snack. "No kidding." She replied, extremely sarcastically.
"And she talked about boys today?" Vaughn replied, fearing and reliving the conversation at the beach.
Sydney turned around from the freezer, holding three cartons of ice cream in her hands, "You're kidding me with this right? Vaughn, she's seventeen." She hurried to the counter and place the cold confection down. Even after all these years, she still called him Vaughn. Portia had just come to terms with that growing up in their rather insane house.
"She talked about BOYS today, Syd." His eyes shot up as he vividly remembered the conversation on the beach, not an hour ago. "Boys, Syd!"
"And what do you think I did when I was seventeen? Discussed the latest foreign policy or the inadequacy of the basis of the state department? Yeah. Hi. No." She rolled her brown eyes at him, still standing in the doorway, starring back into the house towards the bathroom. "And she has a crush on a boy. His name's Chris." She hushed her voice and looked towards Vaughn, her eyes clearly excited by this information.
Vaughn cringed and winced, "Who names their son Chris?"
"Who names their daughter after their alias on a op? Um, no one." Sydney laughed a little bit. "She's your daughter."
Vaughn groaned again and made his way towards the couch in the center of the living room. He made his way to sit down-
"Hey!" Sydney cried, watching her husband sit down. "Put a towel under that wet butt of yours!" She cringed at the thought of the wetness and her newly upholstered couch, with its decadent black and white toile. She hurried over to the linen closet in her LA home, bought not five miles from the Joint Task Force Operations. Taking the white terry cloth in her hands, she playfully threw it at his head. "Score!" She shouted.
"Hey!" Vaughn replied just as playfully, pealing the towel off his head. "What was that for?"
"Your wet butt on my new couch!." Sydney replied, allowing the large grin to spread over her face like a goofy teenager. "No. Towel. Equals. Wet. Couch. From. Wet. Butt." She emphasized each word with a broader smile as she walked towards her husband, her head tilted to the side and her hands were tightly clasped; "Follow?"
Vaughn laughed and straightened up. "Follow." He walked over to his wife, still standing by the edge of the black and white couch and opened his arms to his wife, who happily became embraced in them. "Boys, Syd. G- d."
Sydney only laughed a replied.
"This is what your father must have felt like when we told him that we were together." Vaughn began to laugh lightly as he remembered the fateful day that Jack had found out.
"Well." Jack Bristow said with his trademark expression crossing his face. "I figured as much.
Sydney had been propped up on a cargo seat with her arms crossed over her legs. She was dressed in a racy black dress that showed off more than she wanted to show. They had been on a op together, all three of them, a few weeks after Sydney had her stitches taken out. She was strong, physically and mentally but she nearly fell over at hearing this, "You what?" Her voice was shaking and full of disbelief. "How? I mean, you-" she began to stammer.
Jack moved away from his seat for a moment and grab a towel to start to remove the heavy make-up he had applied from his face. "I figured as much. You're not very good at concealing your emotions. Either of you." He returned to his seat and starred at Vaughn, whose mouth had dropped open. "Agent Vaughn, I will tell you the same thing I told every boy that has come near my daughter. If you break her heart in any way shape or form, I will use all of my capabilities to make your life a living hell."
Back to present, Vaughn shuddered at the thought of Jack hunting him down and making his life miserable. But then, he thought that he could do the same thing to this Chris guy and managed to smile a little.
Sydney playfully punched him in the stomach, "What are you laughing at, Agent Vaughn?" She wrinkled her brow and raised her chin at him. "Something funny?"
Vaughn smiled even broader, "I was just think about what you father said to me...how I could say that to this Chris guy-" he stopped short and shook his head, letting his wet hair give off excess moisture in the process, "When did I become your father?"
Sydney buried her head in his shoulder and was unable to control the fit of giggles that erupted from her stomach. "About the time that I went diving for that Rambaldi document in the bottom of the Red Sea." She laughed even harder and straightened up to look into his eyes. "That mission sucked."
His eyes lit up at the remembrance of old memories under the Middle Eastern sky as she remembered the burning sensation that took over her body as she dove deeper and deeper into the black waters, urging herself to go on for the lost document that would tell them the true prophet was, which woman in the Bristow line that would do those things. "There were so many things that went wrong with that mission." He replied soberly, looking two inches down to his beautiful wife. "Can you believe how long ago that was?"
She shook her head silently, her arms still tightly wrapped around his lower back, with his arms wrapped around hers. "Almost eighteen year ago. It was right after we got married...we were what? Married for three months? And that's when we found out.."
"That we were pregnant with Portia."
Sydney sighed longingly at the memory of feeling so sick after she had broken to the surface and feeling the cold air press against her face and shivering. "What's this we crap? I was the one that dove how many feet? And got the artifact and was thoroughly sick to my stomach for the rest of the trip." She pulled away and her eyes began to laugh again, "I made your life hell."
Vaughn was now laughing and smiling too. "Yeah you did. But she was worth every moment of it?" He ushered her over to the couch and forced her to sit down, his arms around her. She crossed her legs over the couch and her eyes danced about the room and settled on the rows of little dots still scarring her legs from years ago. Her arms were still scared, as were Vaughn's but they had just come to view those as pride marks. Something that showed they lived through hell and lived to tell the tall.
"I should hope so." Portia appeared at the doorway, dressed in jeans shorts and a cute little t-shirt that read, "ALMOST FAMOUS." Her stride was elegant, with the ballet training had infused in her. Her toned body hopped into the gold and beige kitchen to pick up the ice cream she cleverly spied sitting there, melting. "I would honestly think that I was worth all that trouble and aggravation" she spoke with a false air of pride and ego. She continued to bounce about, smiling happily from the day's event and managed to end up in the living room and plopped on the couch. The ice cream felt cold and solid in her hands. She rested on the couch and spread her long legs out over her mother's, who sat there, with her legs folded over the side.
"You know you were, baby." Sydney replied, eagerly taking the ice cream from her daughter.
Portia laughed, throwing her sandy blonde hair back with her laughter. "That's a good thing. Imagine if I wasn't. Good thing I'm a good girl." She remarked smugly at her father. "I am most certainly a good girl." She looked just like her father but with the striking brown eyes of her mother, grandmother, and sure great-grandmother.
This caused Sydney to absolutely explode into the laughter, "Lordy, you really are your father's daughter. Always making sure everyone knows everything."
Portia snapped up straight and starred at her mother with the familiar Bristow women brown eyes. "Not necessarily. I sure as hell got your stubbornness."
Sydney laughed, "Blame your grandmother for that one. Your grandfather sure does."
"Jack blames everything on Irinia, Irinia everything on Jack, Kendall everything on Devlin and the circle continues." Vaughn replied to his daughter, who was well accustomed to things CIA. It was just another fact in her extremely bizarre life.
Sydney adjusted her body slightly against her husband's. She was older now, more refined and mature. It had been nearly eighteen years since SD-6 had discovered her and she and Vaughn had gone to Madrid. They had returned and gone almost back to normal. A relationship, a more personal relationship, developed between them and the word "protocol" was quickly erased from both of their vocabulary's. SD-6 was promptly brought down after Sloane's death and the Alliance followed in similar fashion. Three months after coming home, they announced their relationship to Irinia, who cried from happiness and Jack who reacted as so. Four months later, they were married at the most beautiful ceremony in the history of the world.
A perfect spot had been chosen on the beach, near the infamous pier. Under the sunset, . Sydney had worn a beautiful white sundress that embroidered with elegant pearl and beaded flowers. Francie was her maid of honor, naturally and was beaming more so than the bride. There was a slight breeze that had played with Sydney's hair, elegantly piled on her head with little curls escaping. Irinia stood by her, allow salty tears to escape her eyes. She had been temporarily released from CIA custody to attend. Jack stood there as well, letting his own tears to build up. His little girl was now all grown up. Felicity Vaughn had arrived right on time and instantly loved Sydney. The hardest part of the event was Felicity meeting Irinia but after an hour or so together, they both broke down into tears and hugged and laughed like old friends.
The vows were exchanged and then the rings. Vaughn's eyes were lit like candles at seeing Sydney beautiful done up into a white dress that flowed with the soft sea air. He had opted for a simple pair of black pants and a dress shirt. Their wedding was as untraditional as possible so a tux just didn't seem to be in the cards. Weiss stood next to him, as the best man. Slight bruises and scars were still evident from Madrid but it didn't matter. Sydney swore that's why make-up was created; to help spies cover their line of work. The most special event of the evening was the rings being exchanged. Likely enough, the engraving in his read "My guardian angel" and hers read, "My bluebird."
Within a few months, Sydney discovered that she was pregnant and sure enough, nine months later, a baby girl with the Bristow disposition and the Vaughn looks. The CIA hospital was busy and bustling with well wishers for the Agency's favorite couple. The only problem was what to name the already stubborn baby girl. Everyone had their input. Irinia thought it she be named for her mother, Tatiana. Jack believed that Rose was a good choice. Will and Francie were too smitten with each other to give any real input with the exception of "Whatever you want." Felicity believed a French name would be appropriate or named after William.
But it was Vaughn that came up with the idea. They had been sitting in the sterile room for a while, becoming absolutely intoxicated by the dozens of flowers sent by a variety of people. He had pushed his hands into his pocket and discovered a signed receipt from something in Madrid. It was Syd's handwriting and elegantly signed, "Portia DeMarco." He felt the smile cross his lips. "Hey, Syd?" He looked up from the piece of paper to his wife and child, happily sitting in the sitting streaming in from a nearby window.
"What baby?" Sydney looked up from her daughter and smiled at him.
"What about Portia?" He asked, watching her facial expression go from concentration, to bemusement, to happiness.
Sydney began to laugh a little bit. "After my alias on the op?"
"Seems appropriate."
"Portia what, exactly?"
"Um." He faltered quickly and began to wrack his brain for an answer.
Sydney played with the little black hair creature. "Iris. Portia Iris." The baby began to gurgle at the sound and Sydney gentled cooed over her. Her long brown hair was elegantly pulled back into a French braid and laid at the back of neck. "See? She likes it." Her graceful neck bent over and kissed the little girl on top of her head.
"She's perfect, Syd." Vaughn came over and sat next to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "You're perfect." And kissed both of his girls on the forehead.
Portia was now nearly seventeen and a supporter of the arts. Her time was dedicated in between tough honor and advanced placement tests and musical theater. She had received her mother's love for literature, her father's flare for language, Jack's sharp thinking skills, Irinia's temper, Felicity's love for performing and William's love for the world. She was their melting pot and she carried it better than anyone could have ever imagined, "Yeah, well. Everybody knows that Grandpa and Grandma will never agree on anything." She spoke, now in the present. "So when do I get to and visit her again?" She thrived on her visits to the Joint Task Force Op.
"Whenever you want, honey." Vaughn replied soberly. His daughter had so much respect for her grandmother and enjoyed sharing stories with her true confidant. He maneuvered his hands so he could continue eating his ice cream but quickly lodged his spoon into Sydney's carton.
"Hey!" she yelped at the discovery of the missing chuck on ice cream. "Eat your own!"
"Children! Easy does it!" Portia exclaimed, sighing loudly at her parents. "I don't need you two arguing! Just eat your ice-cream."
"Yes, mommy."
"Yes, mommy." They both replied, smiling and putting a pretended air of hurt on their faces. They quickly pouted their lips and turned back their ice cream.
"That's better." Portia smiled and began to laugh with Vaughn and Sydney quickly joining it.
Vaughn stopped laughing for a moment and starred at his daughter, "So, who's this Chris?"
"Vaughn!"
"Dad!" Portia stopped laughing and starred wide eyed at her father. "I can't believe you said that!"
"What? I have a right to know!"
"Vaughn!" Sydney elbowed him in the stomach, to which he groaned quickly.
He looked back and forth between his wife and daughter, shaking his head and insisting that he a right to know who Chris was and what was going on. Sydney prompted her daughter not to say anything, laughing a little bit and absolutely that this was the biggest problem facing her life; who her daughter was dating. As opposed to being discovered by a secret organization or being hunted down by some foreign operative.
Meanwhile on the other side of the world, a group of rogue agents from various organizations gathered in the cloak of darkness. Each of them had their own agenda and a list of who they wanted to bring down. One by one, the names were added to the list. One man stepped out of the shadows with his list written in black ink. Topping his list, the names P. Vaughn, M. Vaughn, J. Bristow, and finally and most importantly S. Bristow were clearly written with hate and disgust. He was one of the men in the world that still wanted the bluebird to fall and would be damned if she didn't.