A/N: I realize this is one of many post "The Telling" stories flooding the
Internet. I couldn't resist the pull to write my own. I hope it stands out
in some way.
This picks up directly after Vaughn's last line of, "You've been missing for almost two years."
*~*~*~*
Sydney sat, horrified, shocked, and trying to comprehend what Vaughn had just told her.
"Two years." The words slipped breathlessly from Sydney's lips: the disbelieving expression still painted on her face, the trails of tears still wet, but drying.
As she broke from her stupor this news had sent her into, words came rushing from her mouth.
"That's not possible. H-how can that be? T-th-there's no way. I mean, two years?"
Vaughn just sat there, the tortured look on his countenance never subsiding. There was nothing he wanted more than to reach out, to comfort, but the ring on his left hand glared at him. It caught the light of the dim room, reminding him of the woman waiting for him.
He did love her; he wouldn't have married her if he didn't, but there was no comparison between Sydney and her. The woman he truly loved was there, sitting across from him, after two years. And he couldn't touch her, could barely look at her; from shame, and the fear he would get lost in her eyes and never return.
He forced his thoughts to a halt, before they carried him away, and realized neither of them had spoken for quite some time.
He broke the deathly quiet that had fallen over the room, "We need to get you back to LA. Kendall wants you back as soon as possible. Are you well enough to fly?" It was meant to sound decisive and strong, but came out strangled.
Again roused from a state of shock, Sydney stuttered slightly before simply nodding her head.
He stood and headed toward the door. Looking back, he realized she still sat, facing the spot he had just vacated. Vaughn went back and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
Sydney jumped slightly, but returned to her previous position. After a moment, her hand snaked up and settled on top of his.
His hand burned. It had been so long since they had touched, save for the fairly one-sided hug at the door.
Withdrawing his hand, he once again headed for the door. This time, she reluctantly stood to follow. Vaughn went out first to lead the way.
Sydney stared, longingly and with disbelief, at Vaughn's back. Her mind was alternately racing and absolutely blank, numb. The whole thing was so surreal it had to be a dream, but she knew it was really happening. Somewhere in the depths of her consciousness, she knew it was the horrifying truth, and it unnerved her.
* * * *
"There's a doctor in the back, waiting to give you a physical and several tests," Vaughn explained as they boarded the plane.
Sydney nodded, bowing her head and turning toward the indicated direction. Vaughn watched her walk off. He stared at the last place she could be seen long after she was gone. He heaved a heavy sigh; wishing things could be drastically different. Vaughn turned and headed toward the cockpit to check on the flight plan.
* * * *
Two hours later when Sydney reentered the cabin, she found Vaughn reading. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, she sat in the chair opposite him.
"Tolstoy," she whispered as she read the cover of the book.
He looked up, startled.
"Yeah. I've picked up reading it in the last year or so."
Vaughn looked directly at her for the briefest of moments. In his eyes she could read the pain he had been through in the last few years. She knew, instinctively, his new passion for Tolstoy was his own brand of remembrance and comfort; a reference to their first meeting, and the day his heart stopped. It was enough to melt the anger and hurt for a moment, but they soon rushed back in full force.
That was no excuse.
Vaughn could not respond to the silence that answered his comment. He swallowed hard, returning to his reading.
An hour or so later, after Sydney had drifted off, the doctor appeared, looming in the doorway.
"Agent Vaughn, I need to speak with you." Vaughn nodded and slowly rose to go.
"Michael."
The soft murmur had come from Sydney. Tears were once again streaming down her face.
He couldn't take it any longer.
He left quickly.
In the impromptu doctor's office, Vaughn addressed the man. "How is she?"
"Well, she's obviously traumatized, but she seems healthy. With the few tests I've already completed, I can tell you, that's really Sydney Bristow. She showed no signs of proteins and there were no traces of Provacillian in her blood."
Vaughn nodded his ascent, but he had known the moment he had first seen her, that it was truly Sydney. There had never been any doubt in his mind. "Let me know if you find anything else." Vaughn turned to exit the room.
"Agent Vaughn, wait. There is one more thing. I found a scar on Agent Bristow's abdomen. When I questioned her, she said it was new, but judging by the scar tissue, I'd say she's had it for over a year."
The doctor stopped at this point, but Vaughn could tell there was more.
"The scar is consistent with what would be found on patients who have had cesarean sections. Characteristically horizontal on one side or the other."
The world began to fade in Vaughn's eyes.
"With the aging of the scar, I'd say it was performed seven to ten months after her disappearance. Agent Vaughn, there is a high probability Agent Bristow was pregnant when she disappeared."
Vaughn's world went black.
*~*~*~*
TBC?
A/N: I have ideas - I just need to know if you want them. There's a little purple/blue button down there. Go ahead. You know you want to.
A/N: Alias and characters are not mine, never have and never will be. I'm simply a poor student trying to release her muse. The idea of her pregnancy, though already used, hasn't been presented this way yet, to my knowledge. If I have tread on anyone's toes, I apologize. I also apologize if the medical part is wrong. I specialize in computers, not medicine.
This picks up directly after Vaughn's last line of, "You've been missing for almost two years."
*~*~*~*
Sydney sat, horrified, shocked, and trying to comprehend what Vaughn had just told her.
"Two years." The words slipped breathlessly from Sydney's lips: the disbelieving expression still painted on her face, the trails of tears still wet, but drying.
As she broke from her stupor this news had sent her into, words came rushing from her mouth.
"That's not possible. H-how can that be? T-th-there's no way. I mean, two years?"
Vaughn just sat there, the tortured look on his countenance never subsiding. There was nothing he wanted more than to reach out, to comfort, but the ring on his left hand glared at him. It caught the light of the dim room, reminding him of the woman waiting for him.
He did love her; he wouldn't have married her if he didn't, but there was no comparison between Sydney and her. The woman he truly loved was there, sitting across from him, after two years. And he couldn't touch her, could barely look at her; from shame, and the fear he would get lost in her eyes and never return.
He forced his thoughts to a halt, before they carried him away, and realized neither of them had spoken for quite some time.
He broke the deathly quiet that had fallen over the room, "We need to get you back to LA. Kendall wants you back as soon as possible. Are you well enough to fly?" It was meant to sound decisive and strong, but came out strangled.
Again roused from a state of shock, Sydney stuttered slightly before simply nodding her head.
He stood and headed toward the door. Looking back, he realized she still sat, facing the spot he had just vacated. Vaughn went back and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
Sydney jumped slightly, but returned to her previous position. After a moment, her hand snaked up and settled on top of his.
His hand burned. It had been so long since they had touched, save for the fairly one-sided hug at the door.
Withdrawing his hand, he once again headed for the door. This time, she reluctantly stood to follow. Vaughn went out first to lead the way.
Sydney stared, longingly and with disbelief, at Vaughn's back. Her mind was alternately racing and absolutely blank, numb. The whole thing was so surreal it had to be a dream, but she knew it was really happening. Somewhere in the depths of her consciousness, she knew it was the horrifying truth, and it unnerved her.
* * * *
"There's a doctor in the back, waiting to give you a physical and several tests," Vaughn explained as they boarded the plane.
Sydney nodded, bowing her head and turning toward the indicated direction. Vaughn watched her walk off. He stared at the last place she could be seen long after she was gone. He heaved a heavy sigh; wishing things could be drastically different. Vaughn turned and headed toward the cockpit to check on the flight plan.
* * * *
Two hours later when Sydney reentered the cabin, she found Vaughn reading. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, she sat in the chair opposite him.
"Tolstoy," she whispered as she read the cover of the book.
He looked up, startled.
"Yeah. I've picked up reading it in the last year or so."
Vaughn looked directly at her for the briefest of moments. In his eyes she could read the pain he had been through in the last few years. She knew, instinctively, his new passion for Tolstoy was his own brand of remembrance and comfort; a reference to their first meeting, and the day his heart stopped. It was enough to melt the anger and hurt for a moment, but they soon rushed back in full force.
That was no excuse.
Vaughn could not respond to the silence that answered his comment. He swallowed hard, returning to his reading.
An hour or so later, after Sydney had drifted off, the doctor appeared, looming in the doorway.
"Agent Vaughn, I need to speak with you." Vaughn nodded and slowly rose to go.
"Michael."
The soft murmur had come from Sydney. Tears were once again streaming down her face.
He couldn't take it any longer.
He left quickly.
In the impromptu doctor's office, Vaughn addressed the man. "How is she?"
"Well, she's obviously traumatized, but she seems healthy. With the few tests I've already completed, I can tell you, that's really Sydney Bristow. She showed no signs of proteins and there were no traces of Provacillian in her blood."
Vaughn nodded his ascent, but he had known the moment he had first seen her, that it was truly Sydney. There had never been any doubt in his mind. "Let me know if you find anything else." Vaughn turned to exit the room.
"Agent Vaughn, wait. There is one more thing. I found a scar on Agent Bristow's abdomen. When I questioned her, she said it was new, but judging by the scar tissue, I'd say she's had it for over a year."
The doctor stopped at this point, but Vaughn could tell there was more.
"The scar is consistent with what would be found on patients who have had cesarean sections. Characteristically horizontal on one side or the other."
The world began to fade in Vaughn's eyes.
"With the aging of the scar, I'd say it was performed seven to ten months after her disappearance. Agent Vaughn, there is a high probability Agent Bristow was pregnant when she disappeared."
Vaughn's world went black.
*~*~*~*
TBC?
A/N: I have ideas - I just need to know if you want them. There's a little purple/blue button down there. Go ahead. You know you want to.
A/N: Alias and characters are not mine, never have and never will be. I'm simply a poor student trying to release her muse. The idea of her pregnancy, though already used, hasn't been presented this way yet, to my knowledge. If I have tread on anyone's toes, I apologize. I also apologize if the medical part is wrong. I specialize in computers, not medicine.