Wow you guys. . . just so you fully understand the power of your reviews,
I'm going to tell you that I was going to be evil and not update until
Wednesday because of school work. But 20-some reviews for one chapter in
one day isn't something I can just turn my head away from. Thank you so
much, I'm so glad you guys liked the chapter. Sorry it's been a while. Even
though it hasn't been that long, it just seems that way because before this
chapter I had updated every day (go me~) and this was a pretty evil cliff
hanger huh? Well, here it is. The moment you've been waiting for. Ciao~
Jenn
Chapter 9: Torture
Sydney was silent for what seemed to be an eternity.
Vaughn knew he had dumped a lot on her but didn't back away. He had done that way too much already. There had to be a time and place for him to stand his ground and fight for what he wanted. And what could someone want more than love?
He kept looking at her, never breaking her gaze. *I love you Sydney. I love you. Please love me back. God, if you can just do this one thing for me, I will be indebted to you forever. Please do this for me. Please love me.*
Sydney was shocked. She had been relatively positive of his feelings toward her for a while now but had never known for sure. And now he had laid it out for her, put all the cards on the table with the most beautiful speech she had ever heard.
She hated him.
He was too perfect. He wanted too little. She. . . cared. . . for him too much. She was furious, how could he put her in a position like that? She knew she owed him something for his kindness. All those times that she had cried on his shoulder, the times when she had told him the feelings of her heart. But in the last 3 minutes of her life he had manipulated everything she had ever done with him and it felt like he was trying to guilt her into loving him.
But she was still a woman and the speech had had an effect on her. She knew in her heart that he wasn't purposefully manipulating her, hunting her when she was down. She knew that his words were spoken out of truth, knew that it had taken him a lot of courage to throw the rulebook out the window. And, most of all, she was aware of how much he had done for her and how much she owed him. But she still wanted to walk out the door.
But she couldn't. Her pro and con lists were fighting with each other. *All he's doing is asking for some of the love he has bestowed upon me. But I never promised him that. I never said that I would love him if he looked out for me. But you do have feelings for him. Yeah, that's right. Feelings that I have no right having. But you have them. And he has them too. He was made for me. And haven't I been manipulating him indirectly too? I mean, all those times he raced to the pier the instant I called no matter what time it was, wasn't he doing that because he was in love. . . with me? A part of me had to know that.* She looked at him wearily.
"Vaughn," She looked at him, felt his hands under her face and under her elbow. She had slept in his arms. She had told him everything important that had happened to her. He knew who she really was. She didn't have to lie to him, didn't have to pretend or rush out of dinner to meet with. . . well, him. Life wouldn't be so complicated. Even though it would.
On paper everything looked perfect. They had feelings for one another, they worked together, had the same beliefs, loved their country, and all sorts of tidbits she didn't know about yet. But at work. . . that was a different story. They wouldn't be the couple that would change all the rules. How could they keep their lives apart from work when work was the main thing bringing them together? How could they disguise their feelings once they were admitted? People were already suspecting their relationship when there had been nothing, well nearly nothing, to hide. She sighed. In the end, he knew who she was and could fulfill her life. And that was the most important thing.
Wasn't it?
"I. need something to drink."
Vaughn let go of her. "Water?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of wine." She almost smiled at his shocked expression but was still too shocked herself to be in control of any facial movements.
"Sydney, it's 8 o' clock in the morning. You want to start drinking now?" His eyes were so wide. She wanted to kiss his eyelids. Or just beat him. She was still in conflict. Then her eyes also flew open.
"It's 8 o' clock? Vaughn, we have to go to work!"
"Don't worry about it. I have 6 years worth of saved sick days and you're supposed to be gone anyway. I know I've dropped a bombshell on you. . . I'll get the wine." He was dying inside, wanted to know what she thought so badly. But he couldn't bring himself to pressure her to speak. Love couldn't be forced. He knew that from Alice. He got up, and Sydney realized what he was wearing. His hair was deliciously tousled; he was wearing a rumpled KINGS shirt, and boxers. She realized she had never seen Vaughn's legs before. They weren't so bad so for someone who sat a desk all day.
He walked out of the room. Sydney got up, feeling absolutely disgusting. Her clothes felt clingy and sticky from the dried combination of sweat and tears. Her hair needed washing. And the pounds of guilt heaped up on her didn't help the cleanliness issue either. She decided to take the liberty of taking some of his clothes and using his shower. She knew it was a girlfriend thing to do but she didn't care. She grabbed a blue striped polo and sweats from his closet and lumbered off to find a bathroom.
Vaughn came in, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. God knew that he wasn't just going to sit there and watch her intoxicate herself. If she was, he was going to too.
She was gone. *I should've known that she would never drink this early in the morning. God, she's so tricky. She just left. Without saying goodbye. Without even addressing my confession of love.* He shook his head, deciding whether or not he should keep his sick day after all. Getting drunk alone suddenly sounded more appealing.
Then he heard the shower running. Sydney Bristow was in his shower? She hadn't planned on spending the night. . . what was she going to wear when she got out? The mere thought nearly drove him mad and he set the glasses down before he broke them.
And waited.
He walked over to his closet and opened the doors. He almost pulled out a suit but then realized what he was doing and took out a regular shirt and sweats instead. He turned on the TV and set on the bed. He knew that if anyone had been looking at him at that moment, they would've thought that he was absolutely fascinated with the birth of the certum toad (which NO ONE should be interested in. . . really. . . it's super gross). He seemed composed, completely in control of himself. But he was in turmoil. *I don't understand what's happening. I told her I loved her and she didn't respond. But she didn't leave either. So does that mean she does love me? Or does that mean that she's not sure yet? If it's the latter, then that means that I love her more than she loves me. Which would probably be the case anyway. I can't imagine anyone loving anyone as much as I love Sydney Bristow.*
The shower turned off. He heard it so clearly and he felt like he was going to explode. Sydney Bristow was coming out of his shower and most probably wearing his clothes. There were only two words for this kind of situation. Pure Torture.
Chapter 9: Torture
Sydney was silent for what seemed to be an eternity.
Vaughn knew he had dumped a lot on her but didn't back away. He had done that way too much already. There had to be a time and place for him to stand his ground and fight for what he wanted. And what could someone want more than love?
He kept looking at her, never breaking her gaze. *I love you Sydney. I love you. Please love me back. God, if you can just do this one thing for me, I will be indebted to you forever. Please do this for me. Please love me.*
Sydney was shocked. She had been relatively positive of his feelings toward her for a while now but had never known for sure. And now he had laid it out for her, put all the cards on the table with the most beautiful speech she had ever heard.
She hated him.
He was too perfect. He wanted too little. She. . . cared. . . for him too much. She was furious, how could he put her in a position like that? She knew she owed him something for his kindness. All those times that she had cried on his shoulder, the times when she had told him the feelings of her heart. But in the last 3 minutes of her life he had manipulated everything she had ever done with him and it felt like he was trying to guilt her into loving him.
But she was still a woman and the speech had had an effect on her. She knew in her heart that he wasn't purposefully manipulating her, hunting her when she was down. She knew that his words were spoken out of truth, knew that it had taken him a lot of courage to throw the rulebook out the window. And, most of all, she was aware of how much he had done for her and how much she owed him. But she still wanted to walk out the door.
But she couldn't. Her pro and con lists were fighting with each other. *All he's doing is asking for some of the love he has bestowed upon me. But I never promised him that. I never said that I would love him if he looked out for me. But you do have feelings for him. Yeah, that's right. Feelings that I have no right having. But you have them. And he has them too. He was made for me. And haven't I been manipulating him indirectly too? I mean, all those times he raced to the pier the instant I called no matter what time it was, wasn't he doing that because he was in love. . . with me? A part of me had to know that.* She looked at him wearily.
"Vaughn," She looked at him, felt his hands under her face and under her elbow. She had slept in his arms. She had told him everything important that had happened to her. He knew who she really was. She didn't have to lie to him, didn't have to pretend or rush out of dinner to meet with. . . well, him. Life wouldn't be so complicated. Even though it would.
On paper everything looked perfect. They had feelings for one another, they worked together, had the same beliefs, loved their country, and all sorts of tidbits she didn't know about yet. But at work. . . that was a different story. They wouldn't be the couple that would change all the rules. How could they keep their lives apart from work when work was the main thing bringing them together? How could they disguise their feelings once they were admitted? People were already suspecting their relationship when there had been nothing, well nearly nothing, to hide. She sighed. In the end, he knew who she was and could fulfill her life. And that was the most important thing.
Wasn't it?
"I. need something to drink."
Vaughn let go of her. "Water?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of wine." She almost smiled at his shocked expression but was still too shocked herself to be in control of any facial movements.
"Sydney, it's 8 o' clock in the morning. You want to start drinking now?" His eyes were so wide. She wanted to kiss his eyelids. Or just beat him. She was still in conflict. Then her eyes also flew open.
"It's 8 o' clock? Vaughn, we have to go to work!"
"Don't worry about it. I have 6 years worth of saved sick days and you're supposed to be gone anyway. I know I've dropped a bombshell on you. . . I'll get the wine." He was dying inside, wanted to know what she thought so badly. But he couldn't bring himself to pressure her to speak. Love couldn't be forced. He knew that from Alice. He got up, and Sydney realized what he was wearing. His hair was deliciously tousled; he was wearing a rumpled KINGS shirt, and boxers. She realized she had never seen Vaughn's legs before. They weren't so bad so for someone who sat a desk all day.
He walked out of the room. Sydney got up, feeling absolutely disgusting. Her clothes felt clingy and sticky from the dried combination of sweat and tears. Her hair needed washing. And the pounds of guilt heaped up on her didn't help the cleanliness issue either. She decided to take the liberty of taking some of his clothes and using his shower. She knew it was a girlfriend thing to do but she didn't care. She grabbed a blue striped polo and sweats from his closet and lumbered off to find a bathroom.
Vaughn came in, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. God knew that he wasn't just going to sit there and watch her intoxicate herself. If she was, he was going to too.
She was gone. *I should've known that she would never drink this early in the morning. God, she's so tricky. She just left. Without saying goodbye. Without even addressing my confession of love.* He shook his head, deciding whether or not he should keep his sick day after all. Getting drunk alone suddenly sounded more appealing.
Then he heard the shower running. Sydney Bristow was in his shower? She hadn't planned on spending the night. . . what was she going to wear when she got out? The mere thought nearly drove him mad and he set the glasses down before he broke them.
And waited.
He walked over to his closet and opened the doors. He almost pulled out a suit but then realized what he was doing and took out a regular shirt and sweats instead. He turned on the TV and set on the bed. He knew that if anyone had been looking at him at that moment, they would've thought that he was absolutely fascinated with the birth of the certum toad (which NO ONE should be interested in. . . really. . . it's super gross). He seemed composed, completely in control of himself. But he was in turmoil. *I don't understand what's happening. I told her I loved her and she didn't respond. But she didn't leave either. So does that mean she does love me? Or does that mean that she's not sure yet? If it's the latter, then that means that I love her more than she loves me. Which would probably be the case anyway. I can't imagine anyone loving anyone as much as I love Sydney Bristow.*
The shower turned off. He heard it so clearly and he felt like he was going to explode. Sydney Bristow was coming out of his shower and most probably wearing his clothes. There were only two words for this kind of situation. Pure Torture.
