Title: Raw Precision
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Post "The Telling"; be warned, it picks up immediately where ep leaves off.
Seriously, if you hate this or hate something, let me know. I'm doing my best here.
DISCLAIMER: DUH! Do I LOOK like I own these people? Would I DO that to you guys? c'mon! I love all my reviewers & all of the members of the Alias/Alias fanfic community, *I* wouldn't have forced you guys to wait MONTHS after the end of "The Telling"! (Although I do think JJ's a brilliant, fantastic genius - evil in some aspects, but absolutely brilliant). Alas, if JJ Abrams or his goonies or out there, I bow down and own absolutely *nothing*. Go ahead, sue me. All you'll get is a bunch of UConn stuff, a few old left prosthesises and a lot of stuffed animals & video tapes (mostly *of* Alias, X-Files & UConn games) and some books. Really, seriously, I'm seventeen and the economy sucks thus employment is hard to find (I can't be a waitress, I'm too short to be a cashier and seemingly no bookstore within a 50 mile radius is hiring) so it's not worth any of our trouble. Everything is JJ's, ABC's, Bad Robots, etc.
Oh, yeah - Dream Writer 4 Life, Becky Vaughn was named after you :) I know it's horrible to imagine someone coming between S&V, BUT look at the bright side, I married you off to *Vaughn*! (Albeit briefly, let's be real, these two crazy kids belong together).
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"Vaughn," she sighed his name again. "Kendall basically ordered me to bed."
"Can I sit?" he asked and then took a seat on the bed across from her without waiting her response.
Sydney got comfortable on the mattress as her heart dropped. He couldn't even look at her now. Before they could just look at one another for so long and be happy. Even before the Alliance had gone down, a simple glance from him could make her smile for a week. His green eyes had been the most beautiful things she'd ever seen, even when they were spawning his fury at her. Now he was here for who knew what reason, but she knew she wasn't in the mood for a heart-to-heart or to help him get another promotion.
"Are you going to have enough pillows and blankets?" he softly asked, still not looking at her as she nodded.
"I'm fine," she assured him.
"It doesn't have to be like this Syd," he sighed. "Don't make us adversaries. All I want to do is help you."
"If you wanted to help you should have found me two years ago."
"You don't think I tried? Don't you think that I did everything in my power to find you?" he snapped. "Jesus Syd, that was the worst day of my life. Every single day I sit there and I think of what I could have done differently that night. I would give *anything* to have been able to go back and go in to the house with you that night, to give you back up. You're still the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing that I think of when I go to sleep. Every *day* Sydney, I relive that night. In my mind I walk into your apartment and I can still see Will in that bathtub and Francie dead and you're just *gone*. The place was a damn disaster and you were nowhere to be seen. You have no idea how many horrible scenarios have run through my head."
"What about me? I wake up and suddenly *two* years have gone by and apparently everyone's better because I'm not around."
"Better? You think I'm *better* because you haven't been in my life?" his eyes widened and he asked the question with utter amazement.
"I don't know what to think," she sighed, massaging her forehead again. "I just want my life back."
"Your Father, Dixon and I, we'll get you through whatever Kendall puts you through and you'll have it back Syd."
"No, I won't," she shook her head and chuckled sardonically. "The life I want back . . . . It doesn't exist anymore."
"You can start again -"
"I've already done that more times in a lifetime then anyone should have to," she stopped him.
"I'm not giving up on you Syd."
"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" her words were clipped as her hard eyes made a pointed dart to his left hand.
"You're beautiful Syd, but martyrdom really doesn't suit you."
"What do you want me to do? Send you a wedding gift? How many years late will it be?"
His green eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Three weeks. Is that what you want to know Syd, that I've been married for three weeks?"
No, she thought, what she *wanted* to know was that he wasn't married at all. No body, no burial, no certainty of death. If she'd been in his shoes, Sydney knew she wouldn't have given up. Even after Danny, even with a body and a burial and certainty of death, she'd waited. What she'd had with Danny had paled in comparison to the relationship she'd briefly shared with Vaughn, and she'd just as well assume that their relationship made whatever he had with Becky look like child's play. Not that she didn't want him happy, with all her heart and soul she did, but in her mind they were still in love.
"In Hong Kong, you said you've come back . . To explain . . . You left the CIA?" her eyes widened at the question, fighting back the tears she still felt pool in her eyes. Sydney didn't like crying but that didn't seem to stop the tears from nonetheless arriving.
"After all the leads went dry . . . I can't tell you how long it was Syd," he sighed. "Eventually the CIA forced me into bereavement leave. They had me coming in once a week to see a therapist," he conceded. Becky, her mind rang, that was how she met him. How absolutely convenient for the CIA. "They all started giving up hope . . . It was hell Syd, walking back in there and to watch people act like you were dead. After a couple of months only a handful of people thought you still had a chance, that you were still out there, waiting to be found . . . There were all these ridiculous rumors that you'd gone to work for your Mother," he shook his head and rubbed his forehead, trying to rid himself of the painful memories. "I was in the apartment that night, I was with *you* that night Syd, and I knew that. Anyone who knew you knew you'd never do that. Still, it got to the point where even Dixon and Will told us we should have a memorial service, something . . . Your Father and I just couldn't," he voice was low and strained as he continued to shake his head. "Even if some small part of us accepted that you were dead . . .If there wasn't a burial, a headstone, then we didn't have to accept it, you could still, maybe, one day . . . " he paused to wipe his nose. "Then . . . Then I get this phone call a few days ago. Four years to the day after I met you Syd, after my heart stopped, and suddenly I'm on a plane to Hong Kong to get to you. I would have been there sooner but. . It doesn't matter, I got there as fast as I could," he shrugged.
"How come they didn't send my Father?"
"In his condition?" he raised a single eyebrow.
"What is . . . His condition?"
"I really think Jack should be the one to tell you," he explained as she nodded. The moment was full of conflict for her; as much as she wanted him to hold her she also wanted him out of her room, to leave her with her pain.
"That's probably for the best," she reluctantly agreed.
"You should get some rest," he realized as he stood to leave. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything."
Surely she needed a lot of things, but none of which he could offer. Not with the wedding ring and two painful years that separated them. "I'll be fine," she promised him, although she wasn't sure of the words herself. If she shut her eyes she could still easily conjure up the image of them in her kitchen on that first night together, or countless times playing on the ice. Life had been beautiful, for a moment it neared flawless, otherwise unattainable perfection. Now it was all just memories.
"If you need me, just tell the guards and they can get a hold of me."
"I won't need anything," she assured him, feeling her heart break. They hadn't felt this distant since before she'd called him to the pier that fateful night when her Father stood her up for dinner. There was no easy resolution to this, although she would settle for a difficult resolution if it meant some semblance of normalcy or better yet happiness.
"Will you be okay by yourself?"
"There are video cameras Vaughn, guards," she pointed out with a half smile and a shake of her head. "I'll be fine."
Unless she'd been expecting it she knew she would have missed his nod and the mixed emotions in his eyes. There was a distance in them, an attempt to fully distance him from her, but at the same time there was longing. He was in pain, and as much as she wanted him to sooth her pain she wanted to be the one to take away his as well.
"Good night Syd," he called softly as he walked out of medical services, leaving her on her own.
A short drive away, in a comfortable apartment in a suburb of Los Angeles, Michael Vaughn walked into his apartment. Donovan eagerly chugged to greet him, jumping as high as his small legs would let him to kiss his face. Michael took a moment to greet his dog, speaking otherwise silly words to the slobbering dog and rubbing Donovan's belly. Once the dog was sedated and felt loved he returned to his daylong nap on his masters bed as Michael cautiously walked into the kitchen.
Becky was humming along to a Mozart CD as she worked on dinner. When her husband entered she leaned over to turn down the music - classical was not her husband's type of music - as she washed her hands. "Did you get my message?" he asked, grabbing a glass and pouring him some water. Aspirin was definitely in his near future.
"Yes, I did," she nodded. "I called Dr. Orange and Donovan goes to the vet on the sixteenth at four-thirty."
"I'll leave early to take him," he offered.
Once the stove was on she took the towel off of her shoulder, folded it and set it on the counter. Then she turned and faced her husband. Her voice was even when she spoke, "I met Sydney today."
Her husband's back remained to her as he popped two Aspirin. "I know."
"It's going to take a lot of work, but I think I'll be able to get her memories back."
"Good," he nodded.
"She was hostile."
"What did you expect Becky, she's been missing for two years and didn't even realize it," he snapped. The redhead sighed and walked over to him. Her small, cool hand came to rest on his burning forearm.
"Michael, I don't want to fight," she calmly explained. "I'm going to do everything I can to help her, but you should know that I don't think she was pleased that you requested I work with her. All I want to know is if you're okay."
Finally he looked at her and nodded, "yeah, I will be. When will dinner be ready?"
"Forty five minutes," she estimated as he began to loosen his tie.
"I'm going to go take a shower."
"Okay," she agreed. "Michael, if you want to talk -"
"Damn it Becky," he stopped halfway to the bathroom to glare at her. "I really don't want to talk right now, okay? Especially not to a damn therapist."
"You can talk to me as your wife too," she pointed out.
His shoulders slouched as he sighed in frustration. "I know I can. I just don't want to talk right now. The day's been long and I'm still suffering jet lag. I just want to shower, eat dinner and go to sleep, okay?" he walked over and quickly kissed her.
"Sure," she gave him a charming half smile and finished undoing his tie for him before he disappeared to the bathroom.
Loneliness, Sydney discovered that night was a wonderful way to induce unwanted memories. Her exhaustion had built up to the point where she was so tired she couldn't sleep and she knew that she'd be collapsing into exhaustion sometime in the next day or two. The memories that overwhelmed her were both welcomed and unwanted. There was no passage of time to diminish both the good and the bad. Compared to the black void of time that greeted her in her last sleep, she almost envied that numbness to the flashbacks that kept her company during that long night.
Being a genius with an IQ qualified for MENSA had its downsides. For her one of them was a near photographic memory. There was the image of when her Father was still tall and strong, her hero when she broke her leg during a camping trip with her parents. Meeting Arvin Sloane for the first time, feeling wildly patriotic on her first run-in with Dixon. A montage of memories filled with Francie and Will, laughing and goofing off through their undergrad days up through the last days in her memory. Danny, his goofy smile and charming accent when they first met and how he willingly crumbled to his knees to declare his love for her on the quad. Followed shortly thereafter by his denial of her real occupation, the fatal answering machine message and the image of his dead body in the bathtub.
Then there was the first visitation with her 'guardian angel', an otherwise by-the-books CIA suit who had an 'instinct' about her. Discovering Charlie's true personality and having to be the one to delivery the horrible news to Francie. Another horrible discovery that her Mother was not whom she thought, and worse yet had killed the Father of the man she had begun to fall in love with. Taipei, her first encounter with her Mother and the devastating realization that the Man was not Khasinau but her own Mother. The feeling of relief when she discovered Vaughn, alive, in Cape Ferrat. Then the horrible days with his illness, and her willingness to sell her soul to save him. The watch story, and how over time Vaughn's non-humorous sense of humor became obvious. An awkward but silly conversation at Francie's restaurant upon her discovery of Will and Francie's relationship. Then, her two most glorious memories, standing in the wreckage of SD-6 in Michael Vaughn's arms and their first night together. That ranked up in her mind along with the time she offered him a drawer in her apartment, a memory she loved to recall for the sheer joy, playfulness and domestic bliss it implied.
The fateful memory that struck her the most was a day nearly eleven years ago, when she finally caved into her curiosity and called the supposed CIA recruiter who had approached her on UCLA's massive campus. There were no signs to indicate that such a phone call would permanently ruin her life, that it would eventually take her away from any man she'd ever love and destroy the best friends she'd ever have. No, it'd been an ordinary day. Special K for breakfast, perhaps a bit too much sugar into her bowl but nothing alarming. Her Abnormal Psych class and Introduction to Russian before she opted to take that phone call. Afterwards, once she'd scheduled a meeting to hear more and take a test, there'd been dinner with Francie and Will before they watched a repeat of Cheers and did homework. Nothing out of the ordinary for an otherwise boring college student.
She'd been sitting on her mattress, mindlessly braiding a strand of hair when the door to her room in medical service opened that day. Sydney had been contemplating how she'd survive the beginning of Kendall's inquiry on just a few short hours of sleep. Then she turned and saw her visitor, all thought of Kendall left her mind.
"Will."
Frankly she hadn't known what to expect, but he was standing and looked relatively well. Perhaps a wheel chair, maybe brain damage of some sort, but whatever trauma he'd undergone wasn't visible that morning. With the exception of a stiff-looking suit, he looked precisely how she remembered. "I offered to bring you breakfast," he spoke slowly and took deliberate steps as he brought her the tray. Under her observant eye it was obvious he'd undergone severe speech and physical therapy but had made tremendous progress in two years.
Sydney stood and set the tray down before collapsing into his arms. "I thought you were dead. Will, I'm so sorry . . . I thought . . . " she started to cry as he held her tight
"I know Syd," he sighed. "I thought you were dead too. I've missed you so much."
Pulling back she looked up at him, relieved when he wiped away her tears. "How?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "The last thing I remembered was Allyson Doran and I fighting in our kitchen. I thought she'd killed me . . . The next thing I remember, it's sixteen hours later, your missing, Allyson is dead and I've got Eric Weiss at my bedside trying to explain everything."
"Weiss?"
"Yeah, he's a good guy Syd. Later your Dad and Vaughn apologized for not being there when I woke up, but at the time. ."
"At the time they still thought they'd find me."
"Yeah," he confirmed.
"Did you get the senior analyst position?"
Will laughed at the simple question and made a mental note to remember what was old news to him were earth-shattering revelations to her. "Yes. I was out for nine months . . . Recovering, but I did get the spot," he confirmed as he sat down across from her and ordered for her to eat. "I can't believe your here . . . Do you remember anything?" he leaned in; his blue eyes pierced her soul as she shook her head.
"Nothing," she sighed. "I'm so glad you're okay," she smiled gratefully at him as she ate her breakfast.
"I just want to look at you for a while . . . Make sure you don't go anywhere," he teased as she smiled. To her relief any resentment he held towards what she'd done to his life was overshadowed by his joy at her return.
"Will you be at the debrief today?"
"No, I have to go up to my office in a little while," he explained. "Since my cover's blown and SD-6 is no longer an issue, I'm an all-out government employee now."
"No more traveling magazine?"
"No, I can actually tell people what I do for a living now," he smiled. Soberly he looked at her, "I tried to call you that night."
"I know," her eyes shut briefly as she nodded and offered him some of her food. "I got your voicemail."
"I did everything I could Syd -"
"Will, it was an impossible battle. Allyson obviously had training and her skills were amazing. You did the best you could," she shrugged. Quickly she blinked away her tears and spoke softly, "I just wish it didn't have to end like that."
Discomfort induced his next movement as he looked away to the long window on the wall behind her. "Francie's body, the real Francie's body, was delivered to our apartment a week after you disappeared. It was so badly decomposed. . There was some suspicion for a while that it was you, but the DNA and dental records . . .. She'd been dead since the take down of the Alliance."
Sydney's eyes shut as she pushed away her breakfast tray. Silently she waited as he continued. "We buried her. I don't even know what cover story they gave her family . . . We did it right though Syd, we gave her the service she deserved."
"How. How did she? ."
"Gunshot wound to the head. Died instantly."
"How could we not have noticed?"
"Allyson was convincing," he softly pointed out. "For awhile we practically had four trained agents living in that house, and of the four of us Francie was by far the most unassuming. Neither you nor I had any reason to ever . . . There were no signs. Sure, she was a bit different, but that could have been because she and I were just getting together or because of the restaurant. . "
"The restaurant?" she covered her mouth, the tears once again pooling as she remembered how much her best friend had left behind.
"Believe it or not I haven't screwed it up," he chuckled. "Francie's parents ran it for awhile, but about a year ago they sold out their shares to me. I hired people . . . I have no idea what I'm doing, luckily Amy's got some friends with experience and the place is still making a profit. We're in all those travel magazines you know, one of the best local restaurants in the LA Metro Area, I just couldn't see closing it."
"Will, I'm so proud of you."
"I love you Syd," he leaned over to embrace her, reassured to just have her in his arms again. Between the CIA and the restaurant his life hadn't been much else other then work since she disappeared. Trust didn't come easily to him anymore, but having her back was an unexpected gift. "If you need anything, I'm here."
"Thank you," she whispered as they pulled back.
"Your lucky today," he smiled as he saw the orderly approaching with the wheelchair. Sydney wiped her tears and sent him a quizzical look. "I already ran into Kendall today, his head isn't too high up his ass today so you should survive okay." Sydney laughed and thanked him as the orderly walked in. "I'll try to stop by after work," he squeezed her hand and promised. "Good luck."
She smiled and thanked him as she disappeared towards the dreaded meeting.
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A/N: Okay, I *was* going to give Jack cancer, then I considered ALS, but now I'm not sure. Thus it might be a few chapters until I clear that up, since I still haven't chosen the option to go with. Right now I'm thinking something ala SR 819 from X-Files maybe something w/ Sloane . . Not sure yet. I really want Syd to have some allies in all of this, people who have moved on but w/ who she still fits with, and I really like the idea of those people being Dixon, Will & Marshall (besides Jack, obviously). Anyway, please R&R - you make my day/week/month/year/millenium :)
Oh, Crystal Raven could you please e-mail me privately? I accidentally deleted your Review e-mail but would love it if you'd like to be my beta.
One last note for all my Trying Normal Fans - I just realized that 10/1/05 is not only the day I chose to use in this story, but also a *very* important day in TN! Wee! lol, once I get off this angst kick (you guys know me, really angst should be my middle name, not Elise) I'll be working on it and hopefully we'll have some fluff soon (although I really don't write that all too well).
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Post "The Telling"; be warned, it picks up immediately where ep leaves off.
Seriously, if you hate this or hate something, let me know. I'm doing my best here.
DISCLAIMER: DUH! Do I LOOK like I own these people? Would I DO that to you guys? c'mon! I love all my reviewers & all of the members of the Alias/Alias fanfic community, *I* wouldn't have forced you guys to wait MONTHS after the end of "The Telling"! (Although I do think JJ's a brilliant, fantastic genius - evil in some aspects, but absolutely brilliant). Alas, if JJ Abrams or his goonies or out there, I bow down and own absolutely *nothing*. Go ahead, sue me. All you'll get is a bunch of UConn stuff, a few old left prosthesises and a lot of stuffed animals & video tapes (mostly *of* Alias, X-Files & UConn games) and some books. Really, seriously, I'm seventeen and the economy sucks thus employment is hard to find (I can't be a waitress, I'm too short to be a cashier and seemingly no bookstore within a 50 mile radius is hiring) so it's not worth any of our trouble. Everything is JJ's, ABC's, Bad Robots, etc.
Oh, yeah - Dream Writer 4 Life, Becky Vaughn was named after you :) I know it's horrible to imagine someone coming between S&V, BUT look at the bright side, I married you off to *Vaughn*! (Albeit briefly, let's be real, these two crazy kids belong together).
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"Vaughn," she sighed his name again. "Kendall basically ordered me to bed."
"Can I sit?" he asked and then took a seat on the bed across from her without waiting her response.
Sydney got comfortable on the mattress as her heart dropped. He couldn't even look at her now. Before they could just look at one another for so long and be happy. Even before the Alliance had gone down, a simple glance from him could make her smile for a week. His green eyes had been the most beautiful things she'd ever seen, even when they were spawning his fury at her. Now he was here for who knew what reason, but she knew she wasn't in the mood for a heart-to-heart or to help him get another promotion.
"Are you going to have enough pillows and blankets?" he softly asked, still not looking at her as she nodded.
"I'm fine," she assured him.
"It doesn't have to be like this Syd," he sighed. "Don't make us adversaries. All I want to do is help you."
"If you wanted to help you should have found me two years ago."
"You don't think I tried? Don't you think that I did everything in my power to find you?" he snapped. "Jesus Syd, that was the worst day of my life. Every single day I sit there and I think of what I could have done differently that night. I would give *anything* to have been able to go back and go in to the house with you that night, to give you back up. You're still the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing that I think of when I go to sleep. Every *day* Sydney, I relive that night. In my mind I walk into your apartment and I can still see Will in that bathtub and Francie dead and you're just *gone*. The place was a damn disaster and you were nowhere to be seen. You have no idea how many horrible scenarios have run through my head."
"What about me? I wake up and suddenly *two* years have gone by and apparently everyone's better because I'm not around."
"Better? You think I'm *better* because you haven't been in my life?" his eyes widened and he asked the question with utter amazement.
"I don't know what to think," she sighed, massaging her forehead again. "I just want my life back."
"Your Father, Dixon and I, we'll get you through whatever Kendall puts you through and you'll have it back Syd."
"No, I won't," she shook her head and chuckled sardonically. "The life I want back . . . . It doesn't exist anymore."
"You can start again -"
"I've already done that more times in a lifetime then anyone should have to," she stopped him.
"I'm not giving up on you Syd."
"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" her words were clipped as her hard eyes made a pointed dart to his left hand.
"You're beautiful Syd, but martyrdom really doesn't suit you."
"What do you want me to do? Send you a wedding gift? How many years late will it be?"
His green eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Three weeks. Is that what you want to know Syd, that I've been married for three weeks?"
No, she thought, what she *wanted* to know was that he wasn't married at all. No body, no burial, no certainty of death. If she'd been in his shoes, Sydney knew she wouldn't have given up. Even after Danny, even with a body and a burial and certainty of death, she'd waited. What she'd had with Danny had paled in comparison to the relationship she'd briefly shared with Vaughn, and she'd just as well assume that their relationship made whatever he had with Becky look like child's play. Not that she didn't want him happy, with all her heart and soul she did, but in her mind they were still in love.
"In Hong Kong, you said you've come back . . To explain . . . You left the CIA?" her eyes widened at the question, fighting back the tears she still felt pool in her eyes. Sydney didn't like crying but that didn't seem to stop the tears from nonetheless arriving.
"After all the leads went dry . . . I can't tell you how long it was Syd," he sighed. "Eventually the CIA forced me into bereavement leave. They had me coming in once a week to see a therapist," he conceded. Becky, her mind rang, that was how she met him. How absolutely convenient for the CIA. "They all started giving up hope . . . It was hell Syd, walking back in there and to watch people act like you were dead. After a couple of months only a handful of people thought you still had a chance, that you were still out there, waiting to be found . . . There were all these ridiculous rumors that you'd gone to work for your Mother," he shook his head and rubbed his forehead, trying to rid himself of the painful memories. "I was in the apartment that night, I was with *you* that night Syd, and I knew that. Anyone who knew you knew you'd never do that. Still, it got to the point where even Dixon and Will told us we should have a memorial service, something . . . Your Father and I just couldn't," he voice was low and strained as he continued to shake his head. "Even if some small part of us accepted that you were dead . . .If there wasn't a burial, a headstone, then we didn't have to accept it, you could still, maybe, one day . . . " he paused to wipe his nose. "Then . . . Then I get this phone call a few days ago. Four years to the day after I met you Syd, after my heart stopped, and suddenly I'm on a plane to Hong Kong to get to you. I would have been there sooner but. . It doesn't matter, I got there as fast as I could," he shrugged.
"How come they didn't send my Father?"
"In his condition?" he raised a single eyebrow.
"What is . . . His condition?"
"I really think Jack should be the one to tell you," he explained as she nodded. The moment was full of conflict for her; as much as she wanted him to hold her she also wanted him out of her room, to leave her with her pain.
"That's probably for the best," she reluctantly agreed.
"You should get some rest," he realized as he stood to leave. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything."
Surely she needed a lot of things, but none of which he could offer. Not with the wedding ring and two painful years that separated them. "I'll be fine," she promised him, although she wasn't sure of the words herself. If she shut her eyes she could still easily conjure up the image of them in her kitchen on that first night together, or countless times playing on the ice. Life had been beautiful, for a moment it neared flawless, otherwise unattainable perfection. Now it was all just memories.
"If you need me, just tell the guards and they can get a hold of me."
"I won't need anything," she assured him, feeling her heart break. They hadn't felt this distant since before she'd called him to the pier that fateful night when her Father stood her up for dinner. There was no easy resolution to this, although she would settle for a difficult resolution if it meant some semblance of normalcy or better yet happiness.
"Will you be okay by yourself?"
"There are video cameras Vaughn, guards," she pointed out with a half smile and a shake of her head. "I'll be fine."
Unless she'd been expecting it she knew she would have missed his nod and the mixed emotions in his eyes. There was a distance in them, an attempt to fully distance him from her, but at the same time there was longing. He was in pain, and as much as she wanted him to sooth her pain she wanted to be the one to take away his as well.
"Good night Syd," he called softly as he walked out of medical services, leaving her on her own.
A short drive away, in a comfortable apartment in a suburb of Los Angeles, Michael Vaughn walked into his apartment. Donovan eagerly chugged to greet him, jumping as high as his small legs would let him to kiss his face. Michael took a moment to greet his dog, speaking otherwise silly words to the slobbering dog and rubbing Donovan's belly. Once the dog was sedated and felt loved he returned to his daylong nap on his masters bed as Michael cautiously walked into the kitchen.
Becky was humming along to a Mozart CD as she worked on dinner. When her husband entered she leaned over to turn down the music - classical was not her husband's type of music - as she washed her hands. "Did you get my message?" he asked, grabbing a glass and pouring him some water. Aspirin was definitely in his near future.
"Yes, I did," she nodded. "I called Dr. Orange and Donovan goes to the vet on the sixteenth at four-thirty."
"I'll leave early to take him," he offered.
Once the stove was on she took the towel off of her shoulder, folded it and set it on the counter. Then she turned and faced her husband. Her voice was even when she spoke, "I met Sydney today."
Her husband's back remained to her as he popped two Aspirin. "I know."
"It's going to take a lot of work, but I think I'll be able to get her memories back."
"Good," he nodded.
"She was hostile."
"What did you expect Becky, she's been missing for two years and didn't even realize it," he snapped. The redhead sighed and walked over to him. Her small, cool hand came to rest on his burning forearm.
"Michael, I don't want to fight," she calmly explained. "I'm going to do everything I can to help her, but you should know that I don't think she was pleased that you requested I work with her. All I want to know is if you're okay."
Finally he looked at her and nodded, "yeah, I will be. When will dinner be ready?"
"Forty five minutes," she estimated as he began to loosen his tie.
"I'm going to go take a shower."
"Okay," she agreed. "Michael, if you want to talk -"
"Damn it Becky," he stopped halfway to the bathroom to glare at her. "I really don't want to talk right now, okay? Especially not to a damn therapist."
"You can talk to me as your wife too," she pointed out.
His shoulders slouched as he sighed in frustration. "I know I can. I just don't want to talk right now. The day's been long and I'm still suffering jet lag. I just want to shower, eat dinner and go to sleep, okay?" he walked over and quickly kissed her.
"Sure," she gave him a charming half smile and finished undoing his tie for him before he disappeared to the bathroom.
Loneliness, Sydney discovered that night was a wonderful way to induce unwanted memories. Her exhaustion had built up to the point where she was so tired she couldn't sleep and she knew that she'd be collapsing into exhaustion sometime in the next day or two. The memories that overwhelmed her were both welcomed and unwanted. There was no passage of time to diminish both the good and the bad. Compared to the black void of time that greeted her in her last sleep, she almost envied that numbness to the flashbacks that kept her company during that long night.
Being a genius with an IQ qualified for MENSA had its downsides. For her one of them was a near photographic memory. There was the image of when her Father was still tall and strong, her hero when she broke her leg during a camping trip with her parents. Meeting Arvin Sloane for the first time, feeling wildly patriotic on her first run-in with Dixon. A montage of memories filled with Francie and Will, laughing and goofing off through their undergrad days up through the last days in her memory. Danny, his goofy smile and charming accent when they first met and how he willingly crumbled to his knees to declare his love for her on the quad. Followed shortly thereafter by his denial of her real occupation, the fatal answering machine message and the image of his dead body in the bathtub.
Then there was the first visitation with her 'guardian angel', an otherwise by-the-books CIA suit who had an 'instinct' about her. Discovering Charlie's true personality and having to be the one to delivery the horrible news to Francie. Another horrible discovery that her Mother was not whom she thought, and worse yet had killed the Father of the man she had begun to fall in love with. Taipei, her first encounter with her Mother and the devastating realization that the Man was not Khasinau but her own Mother. The feeling of relief when she discovered Vaughn, alive, in Cape Ferrat. Then the horrible days with his illness, and her willingness to sell her soul to save him. The watch story, and how over time Vaughn's non-humorous sense of humor became obvious. An awkward but silly conversation at Francie's restaurant upon her discovery of Will and Francie's relationship. Then, her two most glorious memories, standing in the wreckage of SD-6 in Michael Vaughn's arms and their first night together. That ranked up in her mind along with the time she offered him a drawer in her apartment, a memory she loved to recall for the sheer joy, playfulness and domestic bliss it implied.
The fateful memory that struck her the most was a day nearly eleven years ago, when she finally caved into her curiosity and called the supposed CIA recruiter who had approached her on UCLA's massive campus. There were no signs to indicate that such a phone call would permanently ruin her life, that it would eventually take her away from any man she'd ever love and destroy the best friends she'd ever have. No, it'd been an ordinary day. Special K for breakfast, perhaps a bit too much sugar into her bowl but nothing alarming. Her Abnormal Psych class and Introduction to Russian before she opted to take that phone call. Afterwards, once she'd scheduled a meeting to hear more and take a test, there'd been dinner with Francie and Will before they watched a repeat of Cheers and did homework. Nothing out of the ordinary for an otherwise boring college student.
She'd been sitting on her mattress, mindlessly braiding a strand of hair when the door to her room in medical service opened that day. Sydney had been contemplating how she'd survive the beginning of Kendall's inquiry on just a few short hours of sleep. Then she turned and saw her visitor, all thought of Kendall left her mind.
"Will."
Frankly she hadn't known what to expect, but he was standing and looked relatively well. Perhaps a wheel chair, maybe brain damage of some sort, but whatever trauma he'd undergone wasn't visible that morning. With the exception of a stiff-looking suit, he looked precisely how she remembered. "I offered to bring you breakfast," he spoke slowly and took deliberate steps as he brought her the tray. Under her observant eye it was obvious he'd undergone severe speech and physical therapy but had made tremendous progress in two years.
Sydney stood and set the tray down before collapsing into his arms. "I thought you were dead. Will, I'm so sorry . . . I thought . . . " she started to cry as he held her tight
"I know Syd," he sighed. "I thought you were dead too. I've missed you so much."
Pulling back she looked up at him, relieved when he wiped away her tears. "How?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "The last thing I remembered was Allyson Doran and I fighting in our kitchen. I thought she'd killed me . . . The next thing I remember, it's sixteen hours later, your missing, Allyson is dead and I've got Eric Weiss at my bedside trying to explain everything."
"Weiss?"
"Yeah, he's a good guy Syd. Later your Dad and Vaughn apologized for not being there when I woke up, but at the time. ."
"At the time they still thought they'd find me."
"Yeah," he confirmed.
"Did you get the senior analyst position?"
Will laughed at the simple question and made a mental note to remember what was old news to him were earth-shattering revelations to her. "Yes. I was out for nine months . . . Recovering, but I did get the spot," he confirmed as he sat down across from her and ordered for her to eat. "I can't believe your here . . . Do you remember anything?" he leaned in; his blue eyes pierced her soul as she shook her head.
"Nothing," she sighed. "I'm so glad you're okay," she smiled gratefully at him as she ate her breakfast.
"I just want to look at you for a while . . . Make sure you don't go anywhere," he teased as she smiled. To her relief any resentment he held towards what she'd done to his life was overshadowed by his joy at her return.
"Will you be at the debrief today?"
"No, I have to go up to my office in a little while," he explained. "Since my cover's blown and SD-6 is no longer an issue, I'm an all-out government employee now."
"No more traveling magazine?"
"No, I can actually tell people what I do for a living now," he smiled. Soberly he looked at her, "I tried to call you that night."
"I know," her eyes shut briefly as she nodded and offered him some of her food. "I got your voicemail."
"I did everything I could Syd -"
"Will, it was an impossible battle. Allyson obviously had training and her skills were amazing. You did the best you could," she shrugged. Quickly she blinked away her tears and spoke softly, "I just wish it didn't have to end like that."
Discomfort induced his next movement as he looked away to the long window on the wall behind her. "Francie's body, the real Francie's body, was delivered to our apartment a week after you disappeared. It was so badly decomposed. . There was some suspicion for a while that it was you, but the DNA and dental records . . .. She'd been dead since the take down of the Alliance."
Sydney's eyes shut as she pushed away her breakfast tray. Silently she waited as he continued. "We buried her. I don't even know what cover story they gave her family . . . We did it right though Syd, we gave her the service she deserved."
"How. How did she? ."
"Gunshot wound to the head. Died instantly."
"How could we not have noticed?"
"Allyson was convincing," he softly pointed out. "For awhile we practically had four trained agents living in that house, and of the four of us Francie was by far the most unassuming. Neither you nor I had any reason to ever . . . There were no signs. Sure, she was a bit different, but that could have been because she and I were just getting together or because of the restaurant. . "
"The restaurant?" she covered her mouth, the tears once again pooling as she remembered how much her best friend had left behind.
"Believe it or not I haven't screwed it up," he chuckled. "Francie's parents ran it for awhile, but about a year ago they sold out their shares to me. I hired people . . . I have no idea what I'm doing, luckily Amy's got some friends with experience and the place is still making a profit. We're in all those travel magazines you know, one of the best local restaurants in the LA Metro Area, I just couldn't see closing it."
"Will, I'm so proud of you."
"I love you Syd," he leaned over to embrace her, reassured to just have her in his arms again. Between the CIA and the restaurant his life hadn't been much else other then work since she disappeared. Trust didn't come easily to him anymore, but having her back was an unexpected gift. "If you need anything, I'm here."
"Thank you," she whispered as they pulled back.
"Your lucky today," he smiled as he saw the orderly approaching with the wheelchair. Sydney wiped her tears and sent him a quizzical look. "I already ran into Kendall today, his head isn't too high up his ass today so you should survive okay." Sydney laughed and thanked him as the orderly walked in. "I'll try to stop by after work," he squeezed her hand and promised. "Good luck."
She smiled and thanked him as she disappeared towards the dreaded meeting.
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A/N: Okay, I *was* going to give Jack cancer, then I considered ALS, but now I'm not sure. Thus it might be a few chapters until I clear that up, since I still haven't chosen the option to go with. Right now I'm thinking something ala SR 819 from X-Files maybe something w/ Sloane . . Not sure yet. I really want Syd to have some allies in all of this, people who have moved on but w/ who she still fits with, and I really like the idea of those people being Dixon, Will & Marshall (besides Jack, obviously). Anyway, please R&R - you make my day/week/month/year/millenium :)
Oh, Crystal Raven could you please e-mail me privately? I accidentally deleted your Review e-mail but would love it if you'd like to be my beta.
One last note for all my Trying Normal Fans - I just realized that 10/1/05 is not only the day I chose to use in this story, but also a *very* important day in TN! Wee! lol, once I get off this angst kick (you guys know me, really angst should be my middle name, not Elise) I'll be working on it and hopefully we'll have some fluff soon (although I really don't write that all too well).
