Title: Vaughn's Secret 1/1
Author: Sydfan
email: crownjewels@ameritech.net
‑ Rating: PG for mature subject
‑ Spoilers/Timeline: No spoilers. Timeline - pre "Double Agent"
‑ Summary Vaughn's deepest secret - unknown even to the CIA – is what really keeps him from Sydney
‑ Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
‑ 'Ship (if applicable) S/V
There are certain words I have learned to avoid. When a man keeps a secret as long as I have, he learns to protect it – with everything he's got.
Or in my case, doesn't have. Well, it's all there. It just doesn't work the way it's supposed to. It's not something you can discuss with your mother. By the time I figured out things weren't right, I had tied myself up in knots on the inside.
What does it mean to be a man? For me, it came to mean taking care of my mom – being the man of the house. How I hate that stupid phrase! Doesn't sound any better in French. I was eight, with no one to teach me what a man was - and wasn't.
In high school, the girls thought I was respectful, aloof -- maybe even gay. My friends teased me about my boy scout behavior. If the CIA only knew how apt my code name is. It's probably the only thing about me they don't know. Keeping a secret from the Barnetts of the Agency isn't as difficult as it should be. Not if it really matters.
The psych evaluations were tough. But my deep pool of father angst was a very effective diversion. And the medical – well let's just say that thorough doesn't extend to... that. Nobody knows - except Alice.
It took me so long to let her in. Terrified that I would see the pity in her eyes. Or worse, the tiniest of smirks. She was okay with it at first. Until the reality of it hit her. The everyday-ness of it that I learned to live with long ago. I give her credit, she made it work as long as she could. Even when I was ready to just let her leave with her dissatisfactions intact, she hung on. I respect her for that. She didn't try to make me feel less like a man. I've had time to make my peace with the lack. I guess she couldn't, in the end. Or I made her not want to try. Whatever.
Now I've descended to my own personal hell once again. But at least it's mine. Sydney thinks it's protocol holding me back. Screw protocol! No. That's one of those words I don't use.
I had found my equilibrium - a way to keep myself in balance between the wanting and the reality. But the touch of her hand against mine there on the pier – it sent me spiraling down once more. All the anguish – all the whys and the why nots twisting up in my gut again. I don't need this. I know what I am, what kind of man I am. And what I'm not. I know what I feel for her. And I know what can't be. But not for the reasons she thinks.
In college I felt like I had some sort of brand on my forehead. A giant scarlet "I" burned into me. Sports, studying, more sports. All of it in an effort to make myself someone I could live with. Hearing it from a team of white coats helped me wrap my mind around it. But I had to know, firsthand what I was missing out on. I knew I was only torturing myself, but I had to do it – or not do it, as the case may be.
The images I found in gay videos brought me no peace. Just a reminder of what isn't, what can't be. Besides, it was never about the guys – only, always, the ache of the lacking. Watching the girls, now that was better. I rewound, took notes, knowing I would need them if I ever found myself in a...position to trust someone that way. The intimacy of hands and mouth are nothing to the searing pain of trusting someone with a piece of your soul.
Sydney Bristow keeps secrets well, but she doesn't have mine yet. And she won't. The desire I feel for her is so all-encompassing that I can't imagine giving her less than everything I have. And that just won't be enough. She's twice the woman Alice will ever be. And I, I'm only half...no. I just can't say it.
So for now, I'll be the comfort she needs. The voice in her ear that helps keep her safe. The only one who knows her secrets. It's enough for now.
It's all I can give her.