Chapter 4

This was the time that Jack Bristow dreaded. It was time for Arvin Sloane to approach the podium, and Jack couldn't be more disgusted. The last thing he wanted was this smooth talking SOB standing in front of all of Sydney's friends and falsely proclaiming Sydney's value to Credit Dauphine. It was a good thing for himself, and for Sloane that Jack Bristow was good at demonstrating an expressionless countenance.

Sloane stood at the podium and cleared his throat. Dressed in a black suit, with his face unshaven, he looked quite solemn, but in an odd way, he looked quite proud.

"Jack Bristow and I go back a long way," Sloane said, glancing at Jack as he said this. "We he met Laura and had a beautiful little girl, I know I was just as proud as Jack. Sydney was perfect in every way, and felt obliged to take her under my wing, like a second father. The day that Sydney showed interest in working at the bank with her father and me, I was ecstatic. Since then, Sydney had shown nothing but loyal devotion for her work. Finding out about Sydney's death was more than a shock. No one can replace Sydney at her job, as a friend, and as my daughter. Thank you." Jack secretly glared at Sloane's speech. Of all the things Sloane could have said, calling Sydney his daughter was definitely the worst.

The minister concluded the ceremony, as Sydney's friends approached the casket and laid a rose upon it. Dixon and Marshall both approached the casket with heads bent, sorrow filled their eyes. Jack turned away, unable to watch the tears of Sydney's friends. Jack however looked up as a hand touched his shoulder. Jack fought the urge to cringe.

"I meant everything I said up there, my friend," Sloane said earnestly. "You can talk to me whenever you feel the need."

Jack faked a solemn smile. "Thank you." Sloane proceeded to Sydney's casket a placed a single red rose on Sydney's grave. Jack waited till the last person had left, before he proceeded to the grave. He bent down on his knees before the massive casket, and spoke softly to its cold black outside.

"Sydney," he whispered. "Why did you have to go? Why, why, why?" Jack grabbed the edge of the metal casket and squeezed it hard, angrily. "Don't you know that you're what makes me strong?" Jack was filled with anguish. "Sydney," he cried out. He reached up, not even caring if anyone was around, and ripped off the rose that Sloane had placed upon her grave. He paid no attention to the thorns that pricked and scraped his skin. Jack threw the flower to the ground.

"I will find out who did this to you, Sydney," Jack said hardening, but only to collapse again onto his knees beside the casket, and for the first time in a long time, a wet salty liquid traveled down from his eye to his cheek, and down to his chin. Jack Bristow was crying, and he didn't know how to stop it.

* * *

It was three o'clock in the morning and Vaughn stood at least one hundred feet away from Sydney's grave. With flowers in hand, Vaughn found that approaching her grave was near impossible. It all seemed so final now, and there was an unfulfilled emptiness left in his heart where he had needed to say good bye. Vaughn had wanted so much to come to the funeral, but he knew he couldn't. Even coming now to visit her grave didn't make the good-bye complete.

Slowly he allowed his feet to move towards the place where she lay. The ground was still brown at the fresh dirt that had been laid upon the casket. A head stone had yet to be placed at the front of the grave, but it was just as well. He wasn't ready to see her death written in writing. He gently placed his bouquet on top of the soil.

One of the things that was so nerve wracking was that he never gotten the chance to tell her how much he had loved her. His emotions remained bottled up, just as they had been before, but now, he felt as if he was going to explode. He needed her to know now. He knew it would do no good, but he needed it to be said.

"Sydney," Vaughn said to the ground. "I-I love you. Oh God, how do I love you." Vaughn bent his head as tears appeared in his eyes. Suddenly, he froze. He heard footprints. Vaughn stood up and looked around. He pulled his gun out of his holster, and stepped over Sydney's grave.

Vaughn swung around quickly at the sound of running footsteps, and say a figure in black running swiftly towards the entrance. "Stop right there!" Vaughn yelled as he ran to the entrance gate after the fleeing figure, gun raised, but the figure had disappeared.