RENEWAL

SETTING - AU, start of S2, during "Trust Me", although there are some key differences, particularly in the dialogue of Syd's conversation with Irina [and I know Irina seems evil in this story, but that's necessary for the purposes of this fic - I don't actually think she's evil, so please don't hold this against me...]
RATING - PG-13 to be on the safe side
SUMMARY - "Vaughn, you cry quietly in anguish, what are we to do about our eyes? They betray us." Sydney and Vaughn, and a heck of a lot of angst.
DISCLAIMER - I don't own the characters or the show...Bad Robot Productions, ABC Television and JJ Abrams do.
 

Renewal
Reflection

"Someday," you whisper to him, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat strong and steady. You could set your watch to his heart, you think.

Someday you'll be free. Free to have a normal life with him, free to love him without worrying about surveillance teams, free to introduce him to your friends. Free to do whatever you want, free, in all senses of the word.

But not today.

* * *

One week ago, your mother shot you in the shoulder.

Almost twenty five years ago, she faked her own death and abandoned [abandonedbetrayedleftusaloneleftmealonerippedoutourheartsleftusfordead] your father and you.

She sits now in front of you, watching you curiously.

Vaughn stands behind you, hovering protectively.

She speaks finally.

"You look like him, Mr. Vaughn."

He knows who he looks like.

[Mymotherkilledyourfatherkilledyourfatherkilledyourfather]

You speak slowly, a little shaken by her words, but trying not to show it.

[Let's get something clear. You are not my mother. My mother was Laura Bristow. Laura Bristow died in a car accident twenty-one years ago. You are a traitor and a prisoner of the United States government.]

"Is that what you believe? Tell me, Sydney, do you remember the cookie recipe that we used to make choc-chip cookies [myfather'sfavourites] for Daddy on Valentine's Day? Do you remember our trip to Disneyland? Do you remember the Spinning Teacups? ….do you remember, Sydney?"

Yes, you remember.

Yes, you remember your mother making heart-shaped chocolate chip cookies for your father on Valentine's Day. You remember measuring the flour and the chocolate, stealing a few bits of chocolate while you thought Mommy wasn't watching. [Sydney, I'm sure that there was more chocolate in this bowl!]

Yes, you remember the trip to Disneyland with your Daddy and Mommy. [guess what, sweetheart? We're going to Disneyland tomorrow!] You remember 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] You remember that you and your Mommy had your photo taken with Mickey Mouse. [Say cheese, Sydney!]

You remember the little brown-haired girl who was abandoned by her mother, only to have her father taken away from her as well a few days later.

You remember the little girl in frilly dresses crying at the sight of her father [strongtallinvincibleDaddy] in tears. [Sydney, he said, sitting you on his knee, there's been an accident. Sydney, he said, a tear on his cheek, your Mommy's gone to heaven.]

You remember wanting your Mommy back so badly. You remember praying [God, I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll give my dolls away, I'll never be naughty again, just please give me back my Mommy…she must be lonely in heaven without daddy and me…I want my Mommy back, I want my Mommy back…please?]

You remember screaming for hours on end, until you couldn't scream anymore, because nothing was right anymore.

Yes, you remember.

You remember everything.

"I remember my mother. I remember a good woman, who loved her husband and daughter. I remember that you are not my mother."

"If that's what you really believe, then what are you doing here, Sydney?"

You're here because they ordered you to be here. You're here because this woman has haunted you [he looks in your eyes and sees her face/he looks at you and sees his father's killer], fascinated you [she looks so much like the woman in the journal/she's never seen the beauty of the sky behind Mt. Sebacio/the woman depicted will render unto the greatest power the utmost desolation], betrayed you [I was not that agent, Sydney. Your mother was] all these years, and for once, you'd like to try and understand the woman [witchmotherspyloverkiller]. For once, you're in control. Or so you thought.

[[i]Look at me! We will interact only when necessary. You will address me as "Agent Bristow" and answer only the questions I ask. There will be no personal anecdotes, no comments about my job performance, no condolences or congratulations. Do you understand me?]

[Do you understand?]

[Yes…Agent Bristow.]

Her eyes glint as you leave with Vaughn.

Once you're outside the glass cage, you lean against the wall and breathe again.

You don't know if you can cope with this.

[Of course you can cope with this.]

You live, and you lie, and you breathe.

It's become quite a good motto. And it's a motto that you live by when you're not in his arms. Because when you're in his arms, breathing is easy, and lies aren't needed.

Vaughn's watching you, reluctant to speak and disrupt your chain of thought.

Finally you begin.

"I'm sorry you had to be in there for that, Vaughn."

[sorrysosorrynomanshouldhavetocomefacetofacewithisfather'skiller]

He just sighs and shakes his head a little.

"It's all right, Syd. I knew what I was getting myself into when I went in there. Anyway, I couldn't very well have asked you to go in there if I wasn't going to do the same thing, could I?"

This brings a small smile to your face. This man loves you enough to face Irina Devreko [loves you enough to face the woman who took his father away from him].

"Are you all right though? I can't imagine how hard this must be for you, seeing her again after all these years…I mean, the woman shot you!"

"Vaughn, I can say that she's not my mother all I want…but she looks like my mother, and she sounds like my mother, and she has all the memories of my mother…and she knows that."

You're almost in tears by now, and he comes over and hugs you. [the first time he touched you, you were in tears because of your father/the first time he hugged you, it was because of your mother/the first time you made love, it was because you wanted him and you needed him and you couldn't fight it anymore/no matter the reason, he's always there for you, you know]

In his arms, you're invincible, and untouchable, and free, and safe, and loved, and nothing matters.

And once again you're wishing desperately for the day that you can do this in public, where you don't have to lie to anyone about your job, your life, your family, your lover, because he makes you feel so free, and it's just a snippet of what you can have, you know.

You're wishing for the day you can be free with him, the day where you'll be free to live like you are in his arms forever.

"Thankyou," you whisper to him, your head on his shoulder, your lips next to his ear, and you wish that you weren't in the middle of CIA headquarters [screw protocol], because his proximity [histouchhisfeelhishandsonyou] is intoxicating.

* * *
You're back in the glass cage a few days later, sitting calmly, emotions firmly in check. [you will not let her see that her presence affects you, you will not show her that you can see your mother in her, you will not show her that you feel like the little girl she abandoned all those years ago]

"Agent Vaughn decided not to accompany you this time, Agent Bristow?" She turns the titles into a dripping badge of derision.

"Agent Vaughn has other duties."

"He's your handler, is he not?"

"That would be correct, yes."

"There are rules, protocol, governing the relationship between an agent and handler." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes." Your clipped tones say everything. [yes, there f****** well are rules, and they're about a hundred miles behind us right now/protocol be screwed]

"So, Agent Bristow, where do you and Agent Vaughn stand in relationship to these rules?"

"Clearly, if we had broken any of these rules, he would no longer be my assigned handler."

[He's only your handler still because you convinced your father that there was no one else you would work with…your father sees the glances we give each other when we think no one else's looking…they're dangerous looks, full of everything that we cannot say, and everything that we should say, and everything worth saying...oh, yes, they're dangerous looks.]

"Clearly."

She knows. She saw the body language, the way your body stiffened when she told him he looked like his father [she saw the way you imagined killing her for gashing open his old wounds]…she saw the way he stood behind you [my guardian angel always]…but most of all, she saw into your eyes. Our eyes betray everything [windows on the soul]. Vaughn, you cry quietly in anguish, what are we to do about our eyes? They betray us.

They betray our love. They betray our care [he told you that you always had his number] and our want [he kissed you and pushed you up against a chain-link fence and it was hard and fast and unforgiving but you wanted it so much] and our need [to be in his arms forever…to lie there forever where nothing else matters] and above all, they betray the fact that he is your salvation, and you are his [You saved my life/he wouldn't let you kill yourself/he is your rock, the centre of your world/no lies between you/he is given completion through you, and you are completed by him].

They betray the fact that you love him more than life itself, because he lets you breathe [in his arms, breathing is easy, and lies aren't necessary] They betray the fact that he loves you more than he loves his own life [I don't care that you think that you'll kill me, because I'd rather be dead than without you.]

Your eyes [velvet brown like chocolate, he told you once] and his [liquid green and deep enough to swim in] betray everything, oh yes.

"Is there anything you'd like to add to these transcripts, Ms. Derevko?" [maybe if you don't call her your mother, then she won't be your mother/maybe it will be easier to bear looking at her/maybe you won't see the little girl she abandoned all those years ago]

"No, Agent Bristow, I believe that will be all."

You turn and leave, trying not to show her that you've allowed her to get to you again and failing miserably. [You never were able to lie to your mother, were you? She always knew when you had stolen chocolate while you were cooking, no matter how much you denied it]

Vaughn waits outside for you. You couldn't make him go in there with you again, no matter how much you would have liked the comfort of him at your side. He tries to deny it, but you can see how much it kills him to see her sitting there, safe, comfortable [alive] when she killed his father, left him for dead. [tortured him/left him to die alone/screaming to the end for his wife and his son] Yes, you think, he dies a little bit each time he sees her.

He can see you're mentally drained from the ordeal, and just wordlessly takes you into his arms, embracing you, keeping you warm [keeping you safe]. You sigh, and say, "You could see I needed that, couldn't you?"

"You're like this every time you come out of there, Syd! You say that she kills me a little bit whenever I see her, but what about you?"

"I'll be all right, Vaughn. The information we're getting from her is more important than any hurt feelings I might suffer."

"Not to me, it's not," he growls protectively. "This is killing you."

"I'll be all right, Vaughn." [so please drop the subject]

He kisses your hair, ignoring the fact that you're in the middle of a far too public place to be displaying this much affection. He can see that you needed to be looked after [cared for], needed to be held, and so he did what had to be done. Screw protocol.

You look into his eyes, and you see what they see, and you wonder where on earth your life got this screwed up, because what you see in his eyes delights you and terrifies you. You see love, and you see protection, and care, and need, and want, and desire, and you see promises for the future. You see a love so deep that it scares you, because no one has ever felt that much for you. You see a love so deep it comforts you, because you know you'll never again wonder if anyone would care if you pulled the trigger of a gun held to your head.

And you wonder how on earth your life is so screwed up that the one thing in your life that feels right, feels real, feels true is the one thing that's denied to you.

* * *

You're back at the warehouse later that night.

It's become a ritual for you, even if he's not here.

He's not here yet tonight, but he will be soon.

This place, this dingy warehouse in one of the worst parts of LA, is more like your home than anywhere else, you reflect almost bitterly. Home for you now is a place with no lies, somewhere to feel safe and secure and unwatched. Home is now becoming a place where he is.

There is nowhere that you feel closer to him than here. Your memories of him [you look really pretty/the first time you were together, up against that fence/watching him watch you get dressed/him holding you in his arms] are strongest here. When you thought he was…dead…you came here and just sat, and wept, and cried, and then you went home and put a gun to your head.

Right here, right now, you feel alive like you do nowhere else.

This place started out as a place of work, somewhere where you came to receive your assignments, or somewhere just to meet and discuss your job. It quickly became someplace more. You made love with him for the first time here, out of desperation and need and want. You let him hold you here, kiss better the scars that criss-cross your body, let him wipe away the blood on your hands here. It was here that you finally admitted to yourself that you loved him. It is here that you feel that something in your life is real, something is true, something is free of lies.

This, right here… what we do, this is real. The rest of your life, by comparison, is just a series of stabs in the dark, inaccurate and clumsy and weak and wrong and false and full of lies, a weak reflection of the real thing.

What we do here, this is real.

This love, this life, this freedom from lies, this man, this promise of a future that I see in his eyes, this hope for better times to come, this faith in him and in his love…this is real.