WARNING – This is definitely PG-13. And it's longer than the previous two as well, and it's the point where this story takes a very quick detour into the AU. Basically, it's set during the "The Box, Part I", and is an alternate ending to the scene where Vaughn and Syd are discussing her mother, and they hug.
DISCLAIMER – I don't own Alias, or its characters, and I don't own Disneyland, or the Spinning Teacups. Definition from www.m-w.com [Merriam-Webster Online]
Scars
He holds you tightly, his hands wrapped in your hair. You're sobbing, tears running down your face, soaking his shirt….ohgoditfeelssogoodtolethimholdme
You're crying because the lies won't leave you alone and because your mother was nothing that you thought she was and now the one part of your life you thought was based on truth was based on lies and because your mother killed a man and left this little boy crying like you're crying now and like you cried when she died and because…because you wanted your father to be the traitor, because it would have been so much easier to accept because he was never there and you never really loved him and because….and because you thought your father was a bad man and you…you didn't mind that, because it made the years of neglect so much easier to bear. The knowledge that maybe he didn't care when you were younger because he was a traitor, a bad man, was easier for you to bear than thinking that he didn't care because he didn't love you.
You worshipped your mother when you were younger. She was beautiful and graceful and perfect, and when you grew up, you wanted to be just like her. Can't see the flaws in a diamond until you're up close, can you? You remember making cookies and cakes with her….making Father's Day cards with her…having tea parties with her. You loved her so much.
Your father was around more then…you remember when they took you to Disneyland and your daddy took you on the Spinning Teacups…you giggled and squealed so much, and he grinned at you and lifted you up on his shoulders and you felt like the queen of the entire place. It was one of the best days of your life, you remember thinking.
That was the last happy memory you have of your family…a month or so later, your mother died. And then they took away your father, and nothing about your life was simple or easy ever again.
You can't imagine what it's been like for your father…loving the enemy, believing that she loved you in return…having a child with the enemy, being trained to hunt down spies, and living with and loving one all the time, right under your nose. Suddenly, your father's cold demeanour becomes far more understandable. People have always said that you look like your mother…you've looked at photos yourself and seen the similarities. What sort of father looks at his daughter and sees his proudest accomplishment ["my little princess", he used to call you] and his greatest downfall [he looks in your eyes and sees her face]?
You wonder how a mother could leave her child, how a wife could leave a loving husband, and you wonder how a woman could serve her motherland to the extent that she would leave all that she knew to go and fall in love with the enemy, have a child with the enemy….it's beyond comprehendible to you. You pity her, in a way. What sort of woman has to make these sorts of sacrifices for her country?
In a way, though, you know the answer. You were forced to give up your lover [ohdannyi'msorryi'msorryi'msorrybloodonyourhands] by your decision to serve what you believed was your country. Your mother killed men, just as you have, in the service of your country. Maybe you're not as unalike as everyone thinks. Like mother, like daughter?
You cry harder now…not just for yourself, but for your father, and your mother, but above all for the man who cradles you in his arms right now.
"How can you do this?" you half mutter, half sob against his chest.
He lifts your head, looks at you…he knows what you're talking about.
[I was eight when my father became one of those stars]
You continue on, your face on his shoulder again.
"Don't you see her face when you look at me? She killed your father, Vaughn! She was the one who made your father a star on that wall at Langley! Why don't you hate me?"
"You're not her, Syd. Don't ever think that you are. She was your mother only by name….nothing she did changes what we have." This last sentence, you note, is almost choked out.
You look at his face again, and you see him crying as well. Why does he cry, you wonder?
He cries, you know, for the little boy who never really knew his father. He cries for his lost childhood. He cries for his father, dying alone and in pain, and he cries…he cries for you, you think, dealing with the knowledge that your mother was nothing like the woman you thought she was.
And all you can do is sob "I'm sorry" over and over and over again into his shoulder.
He lifts your head, and you look into his eyes, and you see the pain in them, as well as the….love? care? desire? You don't care exactly what it is, but all you know is that you need this…you need him, and he knows it.
He kisses you, and you can see it coming and it's everything and it's nothing and it's strong and it's sweet and it's overwhelming and all thoughts of your mother and your father and of his father go out the window, because this is Vaughn and it's good and you need this so much and before you know it you're up against the chain link fence and his hands are on you and your hands are on him and ohgodineedthisnowplease.
***
You gather up your clothes and leave without speaking before he does.
You're calm, controlled, not a hair out of place.
You give no clues that a few hours before you'd done…things that you shouldn't have done with your handler up against a chain link fence, and that it felt good and it felt right and it's utterly wrong and that you really wouldn't mind doing it again, but you know you can't.
You give no clues as to the bleeding scratches on your back, or the bruises on your skin, or the bruises within, or to the fact that you had screamed out his name over and over again.
You needed him so badly and you're sorry for using him the way you did, because he deserves better than to be used like this…you just needed someone to let you know that you're still alive, because sometimes pain is the only real thing in your world and sometimes pain just lets you know that you're still alive.
You used him because you have blood on your hands, and you have the face of your mother [spykillerlovermother] and because, in the end, you needed him to take away the pain that won't let you breathe properly.
catharsis -
1. purgation
2. a) purification or purgation of the emotions (as pity and fear) primarily through art
b) a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension
3. Elimination of a complex by bringing it to consciousness and affording it expression.
Sometimes you just need to let it all out….
That was ultimately what this was all about for you. A purging of the guilt and death and pain and tears and secret desires and above all the lies that have plagued your thoughts for so long.
You just wanted no lies, for a little while at least.
In the end, you needed him, and you wanted him, and sometimes that's the only thing that matters.