Chapter Twenty-six: Forgiveness

Michael lay his head gently, barely, against Sydney's ample stomach, marveling at the thought of the new life that dwelled inside. Sydney smiled down at him, idly raking her hands through his hair. "Can you believe it, Michael?" she asked, her voice soft. "Another baby."

Michael turned his head slightly to kiss the growing mound. "A girl this time," he said fondly. He'd been an only child; he loved that his son was going to have a little sister.

"Have you decided which name you like better?" she asked. They'd been going back and forth between Emily and Grace; Sydney didn't have a preference, but Michael was agonizing over the decision.

"I don't know," he said, moving so that he was at her eye level, lying on his side on the cool linen sheets. "You're sure you don't like one better than the other?"

"What does it matter, Michael?" she said with a smile. "We can give whichever name we don't use to our next little girl."

"Next one, huh?" he asked, returning her smile.

"Well," she said, a bit shyly. "We do have another room to fill."

He leaned over to kiss her. "I love you," he told her. "I love that you love being a mommy."

"I love you, too."

Michael opened his eyes drowsily, surprised to find his head in Sydney's lap, her fingers dragging lazily through his hair. He'd always loved it when she did that.

Regardless, he forced himself to sit up, even more surprised to find that Sydney was driving them through darkness. He'd drifted off almost immediately after they'd left the diner; from the looks of things, he'd been out for hours.

"Hey, baby," Sydney said, her voice soft. Baby. She was slipping so easily into their old way of being. He wanted so badly to do the same. "You must have been exhausted."

"I don't think I've slept in days," he said truthfully.

"Mmm," she responded. "Look, Michael, I know you talked about getting on a plane today, and I know it's important to keep moving, but I really think it would be nice to get a hotel room, at least for a few hours. Shower and change."

"That's fine with me," he said. She must have been tired, too, and he honestly didn't feel up to driving again. "The kids would probably appreciate sleeping on a bed." He glanced back to see the two of them dozing in the back seat, feeling a wave of tenderness. "Syd?"

"Hmm?" She was slowing down as they entered the small town-- it had a name, but Vaughn didn't recognize it, and he figure it didn't matter where they were, anyway-- and keeping her eyes peeled for Vacancy signs.

"Remember--" Maybe this wasn't the best time to bring this up, but he couldn't stop himself. "Remember when we used to talk about having another child?"

Sydney looked at him, surprised. "Before Emily was even born, maybe. Michael, you know why we didn't."

Yes, he knew why. After they'd almost lost Emily…the thought of going through that again, with another child, was too much to bear. Still-- "Would you and Sark--?" He couldn't even bring himself to finish the question. It made him sick to his stomach.

She finished it for him. "Would Sark and I have had a baby?" She actually laughed, a brittle, little laugh. "Give me a break, Michael. You know what your problem is?"

"I have a pretty good idea," he muttered.

"You're actually torturing yourself with the idea that Sark meant something to me." Sydney shook her head. "I didn't love him, Michael."

"But you needed him," Michael responded. "Just like you needed me at one point in your life."

"No, not just like I needed you," Sydney said firmly. "He was a distraction. Someone as cold and heartless as I believed I had to be to run my mother's organization." She pulled into the parking lot of a motel, turning her full attention to Michael. "You were always the one who kept me sane, you know that?"

Michael looked away.

"The one who kept me from turning into my mother. When you-- when I thought you died, I didn't see any reason to try anymore."

"That's ridiculous, Sydney," he said gruffly. "You had the kids."

"They weren't reason enough."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, Sydney looking at Michael, Michael looking out the window.

"What do you want me to do, Michael?" Sydney said after a long moment of silence. "You want me to grovel? Beg for your forgiveness? I will, you know."

"I don't want you to beg," Michael muttered. "You thought I was dead, you had the right to move on if you wanted to. I just--"

He didn't finish his sentence, but both of them knew how it would have ended. I just wish you hadn't.

"I didn't move on, Michael." She leaned over to brush the hair from his forehead. He winced but didn't push her away. "I never loved him. I know this sounds like something from a bad romance novel, but my heart was always with you."

He finally dared to look at her. Her expression was so earnest, so pained.

"I believe you," he said softly.

And she smiled. Not one of her gorgeous, patented Sydney smiles, the kind that could light up a room, but a small one, a flickering. An offering.

He reached up, tentatively, and touched her cheek. "You're so beautiful."

Tears sprung to her eyes. "I'm sorry, Michael," she said. "So sorry, you can't even--"

He stopped her, capturing her lips with his. Maybe this wasn't all that needed to happen. Maybe he would always harbor angry feelings toward her for what she'd done. Maybe he would never truly be able to forget what she'd done.

But he was ready to forgive.