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.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Never will. Dream job is a writer on this show, but I'm only seventeen so I'll stick to fanfiction. Don't own anything else recognizable either. The only thing I have control of is Becky, and if you really want her (why would you want her?!) then you can have her.
Dedication: For Linda. Remember, to write is human, to edit is divine!
Authors Note: As Linda said it oh-so-eloquently, "The one that'll reduce you to tears then knock you off your feet..."
Erin - "My Immortal" is my FAVORITE song from the Daredevil soundtrack. It's beautiful, isn't it? I hadn't thought of it before you mentioned it, but it does go wonderfully with the story. Thanks for pointing it out!
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Sunday afternoon rolled around and with it, the unfortunate promise of Monday. Determined not to let the upcoming week get him down, Vaughn hit the ice early that afternoon with the team he'd been playing with for years. The game ran later than he had expected, but they pulled away with a 3-2 win. Still full of adrenaline from the win, he went out to an early dinner with the rest of the team, recounting the highlights of the victory. By the time he pulled into his apartment complex, the sun had all but finished its lull into slumber.
The sound of Chopin greeted his ears before he even stepped foot inside the door. He was stepping inside the living room just as Becky entered from the kitchen. On her pretty features she wore a tired smile. "How was the game?"
"We won," he shrugged. All of his belongings were dropped carelessly onto the rug. "When did you get back?"
"A few hours ago," she explained. "Are you hungry?"
Even in the living room he picked up the scent of the dinner she'd prepared. "I'll have a little something," he agreed.
"It should be ready," Becky realized. Obediently he followed her into the kitchen, sunk into the uncomfortable wooden chair and watched her.
On that particular evening the apartment was comfortably warm, and she was donned in shorts, a tank top and a man's dress shirt thrown over it. At that particular moment he was assaulted with the memory of how she'd never worn his clothes. During the evenings she preferred to get comfortable, even sleep, in men's clothes. They were never his though, only her father's or Brandon's. As she twirled around to get the seasoning, she smiled at him as a strap of her white sports bra slid into view. Hanes Her Way. Every undergarment she owned was Hanes Her Way. Needless to say she wasn't a Victoria's Secret kind of girl. Given all that he'd endured with Sydney, he'd enjoyed that aspect of her character. Becky was comfortable and practical. Even her light rose wedding dress had been bought out of a Chadwick's catalogue.
"How's your sister?" he asked as she set two plates on the table then joined him.
Becky smiled, "We had a great time. She thinks it's a great idea to open my own practice, but that's what she's always wanted me to do anyway."
"Good," he approved with a slight nod of his head.
"I have a few friends in the area who have their own practices. I'm going to call them this week. Hopefully get some pointers."
"So you've made your decision?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm handing in my two week notice tomorrow."
Vaughn nodded and looked up from his meal. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Michael. I just have a lot on my mind," she explained.
"You don't have to do this Becky."
"I was talking to my sister, to my friends… I *do* have to do this Michael. I don't like how this job is changing me, so I have to do something different," she calmly explained. "So, how was your weekend?"
"It was fine," he shrugged.
"How did Will's date go?"
"He called me at eight thirty yesterday morning, he was so excited. She is, in his words, a goddess," Vaughn raised an eyebrow in amusement while his wife chuckled.
"Good," she nodded. "I'm glad it went well for him. Stephanie, you said her name was, right?"
"Stephanie," he agreed. "She's the sister of one of the guys he met in NA."
"I didn't think they promoted staying in touch."
"I think he just bumped into her," he shrugged. "Anyway, it's not like he was *really* an addict."
"The other members of the group didn't know that," Becky pointed out. "Still, it's good he's getting out. His entire life can't be that restaurant and work."
"He's moving on Beck, I don't know what more you expect of him. The past few years haven't been easy on him," he defended. Ironic, he thought to himself, a man he once considered a rival was now one of his closet allies.
Becky looked up at him. "He's a good man Michael, I just worry about him."
Vaughn nodded, fully suspecting his friend wouldn't appreciate her worrying.
"He was in love with Sydney at one point, wasn't he?"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"I was just remembering… Calm down Michael," she smiled at him. Her smile was never one that make his heart race or his pulse quicken, but it did send him a marginal amount of comfort. "The man's been through a lot in the past few years, but he is one of the best analysts the CIA has."
"Will's good at what he does," he agreed. After a moment he decided to shift the topic, "Have you thought of where you'd open your practice?"
"I'm going to call a real estate agent tomorrow. My sister recommended him, he's apparently very good at finding the right type of property for the right price range."
Vaughn reached across the table to take her hand as he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Absolutely positive," she grinned."
"It's going to be great," he assured her, squeezing her fingers gently before returning to his meal.
On the other side of town the busy weekend was coming to a close when Will and Sydney sat down in a booth to eat dinner together. Her day had been spent with her father and it was the first moment the two had to catch up on Will's exciting weekend.
"So how was it?"
"Fantastic. Seriously Syd, she's great," Will's eyes widened as she laughed. "She a producer for the LA metro area's highest rated morning radio show. She has the *best* sense of humor, she's so funny Syd… I really think you'll like her."
"Good," she nodded. "I'm glad it went so well. Are you going to call her?"
"Already did. We're going to a Lakers' game on Thursday. So could you -"
"I'll handle the restaurant Thursday night," she agreed.
"Hey, how'd the meeting with Barnett go?"
"Fine," Sydney shrugged and discreetly slipped a bug killer onto the table.
"You don't need that," he whispered. When she looked at him in surprise he continued, "The bug killer. After you disappeared and I took over here, the CIA did a bug sweep and then installed bug killers. I have the place swept every three months and new bugs installed."
"Oh." She slipped it back into her purse, surprised at how well versed Will had become. "Did I tell you that Kendall gave my mother fifteen minutes outside twice a week?"
"I didn't know you'd put in a request."
"I didn't. My father did."
"Your father?" Will said in disbelief, his blue eyes growing wide again.
"Weird, isn't it?"
Will considered it for a moment. "Not really. Your father doesn't like your mother, but you don't necessarily like the people you love. Anyway, in his heart of hearts I don't think your father ever believed she was involved in your disappearance."
"Sometimes…" she stopped and shook her head. "Nevermind."
"No, what?"
A moment later, after she'd taken a sip of her wine, she explained, "Sometimes I think that the feelings that were there never went away. Before I disappeared, my mother contacted me, told me that her love for us wasn't contrived… I guess I'd just like to believe her."
"She's your mom Syd, of course you want to believe her. Have you asked your dad about it?"
"Not yet," she sighed. "She's been cooperating. It's possible my father gave her the time just to have more leverage against her in the future."
"Your dad is *the* master of strategy," he agreed. "Your dad isn't much of an emotional guy, so I'm guessing he won't want to talk about it anyway."
"You're probably right," Sydney acknowledged.
"Whatever your parents do or don't have anymore Syd, it's their problem. There's nothing you can do about it, good or bad."
"I know," she sighed. "I just wish I understood…"
"I doubt your parents even understand it," Will suggested. "That doesn't make you feel any better, does it?"
"Not really," she smiled.
"I saw Vaughn this afternoon," he commented as her head shot up. "Hockey game."
"I didn't know you two played hockey together."
"I called him to tell him how things with Stephanie went, and the team was short a man so he invited me."
Sydney nodded, taking another sip of her wine. "That's nice."
"I'm sorry Syd, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable -"
"It's fine," she smiled. "It's fine. Did you win?"
"Eventually, yeah. It was close though."
"That's nice," she repeated. Before she could contain it, a yawn escaped her. "Sorry."
"Have you heard back about the apartment?"
"I have to go in and sign some papers tomorrow. Hopefully the mortgage will be approved and it'll be mine."
"It's a nice place Syd, I think you'll really like it there."
"I think so too," she agreed. "Thank you for dinner, but I think I'm going to head back to my dad's."
Will stretched as he rose to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and pulled her into a brief hug.
"Tomorrow," she agreed as she snatched her purse, smiled at him and walked out of the restaurant.
The first half of the week passed by quickly. Another meeting with her mother and a sighting of Sloane. With less than an hour's notice she'd been on a plane with her father and Dixon to Morocco. By the time they stormed his location, he was gone, although they were able to reclaim a handful of Rambaldi artifacts he'd left behind. Not many leads arose from the trip, but now the CIA was certain that whatever device Sloane and Sark had built from the artifacts was no longer in use.
Vaughn hadn't been able to go to Morocco because he'd been wrapped up in tying up loose ends on a former member of the Triad when the team had been assembled. The eighteen hour wait, from the time the team left L.A. until he heard that they had found nothing, but everyone was okay, was excruciating. Eventually the call came in from Kendall, demanding his presence at the late night debrief. In addition to the artifacts, a forensic team was working to establish whether or not Sydney had been kept there during her disappearance. While in the Moroccan warehouse, they had uncovered some evidence to lead to that hypothesis, and the building had sent an unpleasant flash of deja vu through Sydney's veins. They wouldn't be certain for awhile, but it was a lead that they wouldn't have had otherwise.
Thursday Sydney stayed busy managing the restaurant. The crowds were nothing compared to the weekend rush, but it kept her occupied and she even picked up a few tips. For her, the best part was the coffee she shared with Will later that night as he recounted his date. It was obvious by his animated recollection of the evening that he was crazy about Stephanie. While he never confirmed it, she strongly suspected it was the first relationship he'd had since Francie disappeared. This girl, whoever she was, was making him happy. Internally, however, she made a note to do a background check on this girl before things got too serious.
"Do you want to go the Kings' game next weekend? Eric's got some tickets but he can't use them," Will explained.
The two sat eating dinner Friday night at the restaurant. The crowds were starting to gather and once in a while one of the wait staff would briefly pull Will from the table. Sydney had nearly been left to run the restaurant again when Vaughn called saying that his hockey team was a man short for the night, but Will politely declined the offer.
"Maybe," she shrugged.
"I'm sorry Syd, I forgot, you and Vaughn -"
"It's fine Will," she silenced him with a smile. "You could have gone tonight, I could have run the restaurant."
"Two weeks in a row? No, it's okay. Personally I'm still a little sore from the last game."
"Are you going to invite Stephanie to see you play?" she teased.
Will's cheeks burned. "Soon. Maybe."
"I'm sure you're good and I'm sure she'd love to see you play."
"I don't want to take things too quickly."
"Take your time Will. If this girl is as good as she sounds, she'll wait."
"When should I tell her about Francie?" he whispered. Then a moment later his eyes widened as he hissed, "*What* do I tell her about Francie?"
"The truth," she calmly spoke. "That you were involved with your best friend, romantically, and she was murdered. Don't tell her anything more. As a rule, people usually don't ask more than you're willing to tell them on things like that."
Will shook his head and for a moment as he nursed his beer. "You don't think this is too soon?"
"It's been two years now Will," she assured him. Ironically, she wanted to hate Vaughn for acting on the very advice she was now preaching to Will. Still, it was different, or at least she consoled herself with that. Francie was dead, no doubt about it; she'd just been missing.
"I just don't know how much time is long enough."
"I don't think there are rules. It's different for everyone," she recalled. Four years before - it felt like far less - she'd fallen in love with Vaughn. It'd been less than two years since Danny's death. Now he had moved on from her, and she struggled to understand how it could have happened so fast.
Will studied his beer, slowly tearing the label off of the sweating bottle, when a chirping of a cell phone surrounded them. Quickly he checked his own before he shook his head and looked at her. Sydney pulled her phone out of her bag, seeing an unfamiliar number on the ID.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Sydney?"
"Yes. Who is this?" her brow creased as Will studied her carefully.
"Becky… Becky Vaughn. I hope it's okay that I've called you. I was hoping you could meet me."
The creases grew deeper. "Now?"
"If that's okay. I was hoping I could meet you at the pier in maybe half an hour?" she suggested.
On her side of the line Sydney remained silent.
"I won't take much of your time Agent Bristow."
"Sure," she sighed. "I'll be there in half an hour."
"Thank you," Becky spoke and hung up.
Will watched her put her phone back into her bag and place her napkin back on the table. "Who was that?"
"Dr. Vaughn."
"Becky?" his eyes widened.
"She wants to see me."
"Now?"
"I guess," Sydney shrugged. "I think it's important."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
She paused to look at him. "I can handle myself."
He chuckled, "Good point."
"I think I'm going to go back to my dad's when this is over," she explained as he stood to hug her. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Breakfast? My place?"
"Sure," she agreed. "I'll bring the food and make it though."
"Good idea," he chuckled. "Be careful Syd, okay?"
"I'll be fine," she smiled and disappeared from the restaurant.
The pier was basically empty as her feet caused the boards to creak under her. The ocean hummed underneath the planks as she rested against the railing. Becky Vaughn was nowhere in sight, but Sydney was a few minutes early. Instead she looked out at the water, wondering if they would ever find her beeper if they searched the water for a body or evidence of some other non-related crime. It was a lifetime ago, or so it seemed to her, since she'd been there last.
"Thank you for coming," Becky spoke.
Sydney looked over, surprised at the sight. She was several inches shorter than Sydney had thought, and it dawned on her for the first time, that the good doctor had worn high heels in the office. In her jeans and T-shirt and her hair in an unkempt braid, she hardly looked like a threat. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm a psychiatrist, I'm used to doing the listening," she explained. Still confused, Sydney nodded. "I wanted to talk. I just thought you might need to hear this," she suggested.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Michael told me you loved it here… Sometimes he still comes here, just to walk and think, probably about you," she noted. The brunette looked down at her hands as Becky cleared her throat. "I'm from Connecticut. I don't know if you knew that or not, but that's where I'm from. The only state in America that's both in New England and considered to be part of the New York tri-state," she smiled. Sydney looked up, silent as the woman continued, "I grew up not too far from New York City, but closer to Yale. The Borough of Woodmont, it's technically a part of Milford but it's considered fairly exclusive… I love it there. The water, the smell of it, the people… I was lucky to have the childhood I did. Very lucky. Private schools all the way, the same babysitter from the time I was six until I was in junior high. A great girl, a sweet girl… Then I started high school," she sighed.
Sydney took her silent cue, "What happened?"
"I went to this private high school, it was small. Most of us knew each other, if not by name, then by face," she said as the wind blew her hair. "There was this boy… He was in my homeroom junior year, and we'd had a few classes together. Everyone knew him, and everyone liked him. He was hardly the most popular boy, but he was friends with everyone. He'd been athletic - played baseball and basketball - and *so* smart… Much smarter then I was. I wasn't a poor student, and my teachers liked me, but he was in AP classes and… Just amazing," she vividly recalled.
"Somehow, I don't even remember now, he knew my name. Junior year, he ended up on crutches and in a wheelchair for most of the school year, re-cooperating from a couple of foot and knee surgeries. I have a chronically bad back, so when I'd leave class a few minutes early to go to the next class, I'd see him. We weren't allowed to talk in the halls, but from down the hallway he'd stop and yell that Duke basketball was better than UConn basketball and I would be so embarrassed because the school could hear us, and so happy because he was *flirting* with me. We'd debate baseball - I loved the Yankees and he loved the Kansas City Royals. I thought it was so bizarre that he rooted for the Royals, but it turned out that his first little league team had been the Royals, so he felt this loyalty to them. That was so sweet.
"Junior year he was named Prom King & had been named to the Homecoming court since freshman year… We were friends. Freshman year of college I had a growth spurt, but until then I was noticeably short and he was already 6'3" by the time we were juniors. So he'd get my books from the top of my locker for me or carry them for me. Senior year our desks were right next to each other and we started talking about things other than sports. The first month of school the building blew this massive fuse in the morning and he drove me home when we were dismissed early. I was getting out of the car and out of the blue this boy just leaned over and kissed me. For me it was just so out of left field, but looking back on it, I suppose I should have seen it coming.
"Our parents were not happy about it, but we got married. Brandon got accepted to Georgetown and I went to a community college down there and transferred in my junior year of college. After graduation he worked as an elementary school teacher. He loved it, he took care of kids while I was in school… I was almost a year into my residency when he died. We were talking about children, and were looking to buy a house. Things were just starting to go well for us. I had him for eight years, almost nine, but one thing he taught me is that no time is *ever* enough, and you get down on your knees every night and thank God for what you are given," she advised.
"Brandon was sweeter than I ever thought any boy could be. He was thoughtful and funny and I never thought he was more attractive than when he was lounging around the house in his sweatpants and old football jersey… Whether I like it or not, that boy was the love of my life."
"What does this have to do with me?" Sydney whispered, hesitant to end Becky's sweet story.
"I'm trained to observe things Sydney, to pick up from a few moments of conversation what other people take years to see. Still, even if I weren't, it would be obvious that you love Michael. You love him like I loved Brandon. That's how I wish I could love Michael, but a love like that… It's only once in a lifetime, if you're lucky. Then you settle for what you can get. For comfortable, for companionship," Becky sighed. "Sometimes Sydney, it's just better than being alone," she explained and chuckled bitterly. "Really, it's ironic, because that's not the type of person my parents raised me to be. When I lost Brandon… I swore I'd never get married again. Then I met Michael, and he understood. He understood what I needed and what I wanted and my pain. So it didn't seem so bad."
"Becky - " she started.
"Please, let me finish," she requested. After a moment Sydney nodded and returned to her silence. "From the moment I walked into my office and introduced myself, you've hated me. I don't blame you for hating me, or expect otherwise. In your position I'd detest me too," Becky agreed. "I was never Michael's psychiatrist. They sent him to me, briefly, for grief counseling. That's how I met him, then we just started going out to talk over coffee. Then we started to date," she recalled. "For the first twelve dates all he did was talk about you. Trust me, I counted, it was twelve."
Sydney was loath to interrupt but couldn't help herself, "I thought you only dated for three months."
"Seriously for three, but as a whole it was probably closer to eight months," she considered. "We took things slow, very slow. Then on the thirteenth date things changed. He didn't mention you, not once. After that he kept postponing the next date. When I finally tracked him down, I swear I could watch the guilt eat him alive," Becky recalled. "I told him it was okay. That I hated myself for the first morning I woke up not crying, for the first day that went by and he wasn't on my thought at every moment… Still it was okay. Life needs to go on."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what this has to do with me?"
"Everything and nothing," Becky conceded. "I see myself in so many ways Sydney, so many types of people I want to be. For so many reasons right now I'm not that person," she whispered as she wiped a few lingering tears from her cheeks. Sydney then watched as she reached into her jacket and pulled something out. "Here," she said as she placed the warm, silver object into Sydney's hands.
"What is this?"
"It belonged to Robert, Michael's grandfather. It's a family heirloom. In his… misguided attempt to assimilate me into his life, he gave it to me."
"Why are you telling me this?" Sydney asked, wondering if Becky was trying to be cruel and unusual. Of course she recognized the watch; it was his father's watch, and Michael could have set his heart by it. That said, it stopped on October 1st, 2001, the day they met.
"It doesn't belong to me," she shook her head. "I knew when he gave it to me that I wouldn't have it for long. It never belonged to me. If it belongs to anyone other then Michael, it's you."
As she studied the watch she pursed her lips together, "You were waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Something like that," Becky chuckled. "I can't get up and look at myself in the mirror anymore Sydney. I can't be married knowing that the woman Michael really has that special connection to is out there, and needs him. If Brandon came back, I'd want Michael to understand, to let me go back to him… Being alone sucks," she sighed, "but it's better than what I'm doing now. Everyone's miserable, and I hate that."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm leaving the CIA. I gave in my two weeks notice last Friday, but I'm using the rest of my PTO time next week. I have to talk to Michael, there are so many things we need to work out…"
"You're going to leave L.A.," Sydney realized.
"My sister lives nearby, but the rest of my family is still in Connecticut. UConn's basketball team is pretty good this year, and I miss being able to watch them. And you should see the bills I have for getting Yankee games on Pay-Per-View," she joked as the brunette cracked an uncomfortable smile. "I love Michael, Sydney, but you love him more. My marriage is a mess anyway… We could have made it work, but I can't do this anymore. I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror, to be proud of the work I do as a psychiatrist, and right now I can't do either."
Sydney looked down at the warm metal in her hand and then back up at Becky. "Thank you."
The redhead sighed and rested her head on her palm. "No one's happy right now. I don't know what's going to make me happy, but I know I can't find it here."
"When are you leaving?"
"Next weekend, probably. I need to clear up some things… speak to Michael. Take care of yourself though Sydney. Don't let this darkness take you from him again."
"I won't," she promised.
With one more smile Becky turned around and disappeared into the dark night.
A/N: What do you think? I think I redeemed myself from the slightly off chapter 12. I dragged it out to thirteen, I'm so proud of myself! She's from Connecticut because, well, I am. Plus it's the only state I know of where you've got Red Sox, Mets & Yankees fans all in the same place. Pretty nuts, huh? Oh, the Borough of Woodmont IS real, it's right across the town border from where I live - it's where my Mom wants to live one day. I wish I lived there. I think that's it. Please tell me what you think, as always.
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Post "The Telling"; be warned, it picks up immediately where ep leaves off.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Never will. Dream job is a writer on this show, but I'm only seventeen so I'll stick to fanfiction. Don't own anything else recognizable either. The only thing I have control of is Becky, and if you really want her (why would you want her?!) then you can have her.
Dedication: For Linda. Remember, to write is human, to edit is divine!
Authors Note: As Linda said it oh-so-eloquently, "The one that'll reduce you to tears then knock you off your feet..."
Erin - "My Immortal" is my FAVORITE song from the Daredevil soundtrack. It's beautiful, isn't it? I hadn't thought of it before you mentioned it, but it does go wonderfully with the story. Thanks for pointing it out!
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Sunday afternoon rolled around and with it, the unfortunate promise of Monday. Determined not to let the upcoming week get him down, Vaughn hit the ice early that afternoon with the team he'd been playing with for years. The game ran later than he had expected, but they pulled away with a 3-2 win. Still full of adrenaline from the win, he went out to an early dinner with the rest of the team, recounting the highlights of the victory. By the time he pulled into his apartment complex, the sun had all but finished its lull into slumber.
The sound of Chopin greeted his ears before he even stepped foot inside the door. He was stepping inside the living room just as Becky entered from the kitchen. On her pretty features she wore a tired smile. "How was the game?"
"We won," he shrugged. All of his belongings were dropped carelessly onto the rug. "When did you get back?"
"A few hours ago," she explained. "Are you hungry?"
Even in the living room he picked up the scent of the dinner she'd prepared. "I'll have a little something," he agreed.
"It should be ready," Becky realized. Obediently he followed her into the kitchen, sunk into the uncomfortable wooden chair and watched her.
On that particular evening the apartment was comfortably warm, and she was donned in shorts, a tank top and a man's dress shirt thrown over it. At that particular moment he was assaulted with the memory of how she'd never worn his clothes. During the evenings she preferred to get comfortable, even sleep, in men's clothes. They were never his though, only her father's or Brandon's. As she twirled around to get the seasoning, she smiled at him as a strap of her white sports bra slid into view. Hanes Her Way. Every undergarment she owned was Hanes Her Way. Needless to say she wasn't a Victoria's Secret kind of girl. Given all that he'd endured with Sydney, he'd enjoyed that aspect of her character. Becky was comfortable and practical. Even her light rose wedding dress had been bought out of a Chadwick's catalogue.
"How's your sister?" he asked as she set two plates on the table then joined him.
Becky smiled, "We had a great time. She thinks it's a great idea to open my own practice, but that's what she's always wanted me to do anyway."
"Good," he approved with a slight nod of his head.
"I have a few friends in the area who have their own practices. I'm going to call them this week. Hopefully get some pointers."
"So you've made your decision?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm handing in my two week notice tomorrow."
Vaughn nodded and looked up from his meal. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Michael. I just have a lot on my mind," she explained.
"You don't have to do this Becky."
"I was talking to my sister, to my friends… I *do* have to do this Michael. I don't like how this job is changing me, so I have to do something different," she calmly explained. "So, how was your weekend?"
"It was fine," he shrugged.
"How did Will's date go?"
"He called me at eight thirty yesterday morning, he was so excited. She is, in his words, a goddess," Vaughn raised an eyebrow in amusement while his wife chuckled.
"Good," she nodded. "I'm glad it went well for him. Stephanie, you said her name was, right?"
"Stephanie," he agreed. "She's the sister of one of the guys he met in NA."
"I didn't think they promoted staying in touch."
"I think he just bumped into her," he shrugged. "Anyway, it's not like he was *really* an addict."
"The other members of the group didn't know that," Becky pointed out. "Still, it's good he's getting out. His entire life can't be that restaurant and work."
"He's moving on Beck, I don't know what more you expect of him. The past few years haven't been easy on him," he defended. Ironic, he thought to himself, a man he once considered a rival was now one of his closet allies.
Becky looked up at him. "He's a good man Michael, I just worry about him."
Vaughn nodded, fully suspecting his friend wouldn't appreciate her worrying.
"He was in love with Sydney at one point, wasn't he?"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"I was just remembering… Calm down Michael," she smiled at him. Her smile was never one that make his heart race or his pulse quicken, but it did send him a marginal amount of comfort. "The man's been through a lot in the past few years, but he is one of the best analysts the CIA has."
"Will's good at what he does," he agreed. After a moment he decided to shift the topic, "Have you thought of where you'd open your practice?"
"I'm going to call a real estate agent tomorrow. My sister recommended him, he's apparently very good at finding the right type of property for the right price range."
Vaughn reached across the table to take her hand as he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Absolutely positive," she grinned."
"It's going to be great," he assured her, squeezing her fingers gently before returning to his meal.
On the other side of town the busy weekend was coming to a close when Will and Sydney sat down in a booth to eat dinner together. Her day had been spent with her father and it was the first moment the two had to catch up on Will's exciting weekend.
"So how was it?"
"Fantastic. Seriously Syd, she's great," Will's eyes widened as she laughed. "She a producer for the LA metro area's highest rated morning radio show. She has the *best* sense of humor, she's so funny Syd… I really think you'll like her."
"Good," she nodded. "I'm glad it went so well. Are you going to call her?"
"Already did. We're going to a Lakers' game on Thursday. So could you -"
"I'll handle the restaurant Thursday night," she agreed.
"Hey, how'd the meeting with Barnett go?"
"Fine," Sydney shrugged and discreetly slipped a bug killer onto the table.
"You don't need that," he whispered. When she looked at him in surprise he continued, "The bug killer. After you disappeared and I took over here, the CIA did a bug sweep and then installed bug killers. I have the place swept every three months and new bugs installed."
"Oh." She slipped it back into her purse, surprised at how well versed Will had become. "Did I tell you that Kendall gave my mother fifteen minutes outside twice a week?"
"I didn't know you'd put in a request."
"I didn't. My father did."
"Your father?" Will said in disbelief, his blue eyes growing wide again.
"Weird, isn't it?"
Will considered it for a moment. "Not really. Your father doesn't like your mother, but you don't necessarily like the people you love. Anyway, in his heart of hearts I don't think your father ever believed she was involved in your disappearance."
"Sometimes…" she stopped and shook her head. "Nevermind."
"No, what?"
A moment later, after she'd taken a sip of her wine, she explained, "Sometimes I think that the feelings that were there never went away. Before I disappeared, my mother contacted me, told me that her love for us wasn't contrived… I guess I'd just like to believe her."
"She's your mom Syd, of course you want to believe her. Have you asked your dad about it?"
"Not yet," she sighed. "She's been cooperating. It's possible my father gave her the time just to have more leverage against her in the future."
"Your dad is *the* master of strategy," he agreed. "Your dad isn't much of an emotional guy, so I'm guessing he won't want to talk about it anyway."
"You're probably right," Sydney acknowledged.
"Whatever your parents do or don't have anymore Syd, it's their problem. There's nothing you can do about it, good or bad."
"I know," she sighed. "I just wish I understood…"
"I doubt your parents even understand it," Will suggested. "That doesn't make you feel any better, does it?"
"Not really," she smiled.
"I saw Vaughn this afternoon," he commented as her head shot up. "Hockey game."
"I didn't know you two played hockey together."
"I called him to tell him how things with Stephanie went, and the team was short a man so he invited me."
Sydney nodded, taking another sip of her wine. "That's nice."
"I'm sorry Syd, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable -"
"It's fine," she smiled. "It's fine. Did you win?"
"Eventually, yeah. It was close though."
"That's nice," she repeated. Before she could contain it, a yawn escaped her. "Sorry."
"Have you heard back about the apartment?"
"I have to go in and sign some papers tomorrow. Hopefully the mortgage will be approved and it'll be mine."
"It's a nice place Syd, I think you'll really like it there."
"I think so too," she agreed. "Thank you for dinner, but I think I'm going to head back to my dad's."
Will stretched as he rose to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and pulled her into a brief hug.
"Tomorrow," she agreed as she snatched her purse, smiled at him and walked out of the restaurant.
The first half of the week passed by quickly. Another meeting with her mother and a sighting of Sloane. With less than an hour's notice she'd been on a plane with her father and Dixon to Morocco. By the time they stormed his location, he was gone, although they were able to reclaim a handful of Rambaldi artifacts he'd left behind. Not many leads arose from the trip, but now the CIA was certain that whatever device Sloane and Sark had built from the artifacts was no longer in use.
Vaughn hadn't been able to go to Morocco because he'd been wrapped up in tying up loose ends on a former member of the Triad when the team had been assembled. The eighteen hour wait, from the time the team left L.A. until he heard that they had found nothing, but everyone was okay, was excruciating. Eventually the call came in from Kendall, demanding his presence at the late night debrief. In addition to the artifacts, a forensic team was working to establish whether or not Sydney had been kept there during her disappearance. While in the Moroccan warehouse, they had uncovered some evidence to lead to that hypothesis, and the building had sent an unpleasant flash of deja vu through Sydney's veins. They wouldn't be certain for awhile, but it was a lead that they wouldn't have had otherwise.
Thursday Sydney stayed busy managing the restaurant. The crowds were nothing compared to the weekend rush, but it kept her occupied and she even picked up a few tips. For her, the best part was the coffee she shared with Will later that night as he recounted his date. It was obvious by his animated recollection of the evening that he was crazy about Stephanie. While he never confirmed it, she strongly suspected it was the first relationship he'd had since Francie disappeared. This girl, whoever she was, was making him happy. Internally, however, she made a note to do a background check on this girl before things got too serious.
"Do you want to go the Kings' game next weekend? Eric's got some tickets but he can't use them," Will explained.
The two sat eating dinner Friday night at the restaurant. The crowds were starting to gather and once in a while one of the wait staff would briefly pull Will from the table. Sydney had nearly been left to run the restaurant again when Vaughn called saying that his hockey team was a man short for the night, but Will politely declined the offer.
"Maybe," she shrugged.
"I'm sorry Syd, I forgot, you and Vaughn -"
"It's fine Will," she silenced him with a smile. "You could have gone tonight, I could have run the restaurant."
"Two weeks in a row? No, it's okay. Personally I'm still a little sore from the last game."
"Are you going to invite Stephanie to see you play?" she teased.
Will's cheeks burned. "Soon. Maybe."
"I'm sure you're good and I'm sure she'd love to see you play."
"I don't want to take things too quickly."
"Take your time Will. If this girl is as good as she sounds, she'll wait."
"When should I tell her about Francie?" he whispered. Then a moment later his eyes widened as he hissed, "*What* do I tell her about Francie?"
"The truth," she calmly spoke. "That you were involved with your best friend, romantically, and she was murdered. Don't tell her anything more. As a rule, people usually don't ask more than you're willing to tell them on things like that."
Will shook his head and for a moment as he nursed his beer. "You don't think this is too soon?"
"It's been two years now Will," she assured him. Ironically, she wanted to hate Vaughn for acting on the very advice she was now preaching to Will. Still, it was different, or at least she consoled herself with that. Francie was dead, no doubt about it; she'd just been missing.
"I just don't know how much time is long enough."
"I don't think there are rules. It's different for everyone," she recalled. Four years before - it felt like far less - she'd fallen in love with Vaughn. It'd been less than two years since Danny's death. Now he had moved on from her, and she struggled to understand how it could have happened so fast.
Will studied his beer, slowly tearing the label off of the sweating bottle, when a chirping of a cell phone surrounded them. Quickly he checked his own before he shook his head and looked at her. Sydney pulled her phone out of her bag, seeing an unfamiliar number on the ID.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Sydney?"
"Yes. Who is this?" her brow creased as Will studied her carefully.
"Becky… Becky Vaughn. I hope it's okay that I've called you. I was hoping you could meet me."
The creases grew deeper. "Now?"
"If that's okay. I was hoping I could meet you at the pier in maybe half an hour?" she suggested.
On her side of the line Sydney remained silent.
"I won't take much of your time Agent Bristow."
"Sure," she sighed. "I'll be there in half an hour."
"Thank you," Becky spoke and hung up.
Will watched her put her phone back into her bag and place her napkin back on the table. "Who was that?"
"Dr. Vaughn."
"Becky?" his eyes widened.
"She wants to see me."
"Now?"
"I guess," Sydney shrugged. "I think it's important."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
She paused to look at him. "I can handle myself."
He chuckled, "Good point."
"I think I'm going to go back to my dad's when this is over," she explained as he stood to hug her. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Breakfast? My place?"
"Sure," she agreed. "I'll bring the food and make it though."
"Good idea," he chuckled. "Be careful Syd, okay?"
"I'll be fine," she smiled and disappeared from the restaurant.
The pier was basically empty as her feet caused the boards to creak under her. The ocean hummed underneath the planks as she rested against the railing. Becky Vaughn was nowhere in sight, but Sydney was a few minutes early. Instead she looked out at the water, wondering if they would ever find her beeper if they searched the water for a body or evidence of some other non-related crime. It was a lifetime ago, or so it seemed to her, since she'd been there last.
"Thank you for coming," Becky spoke.
Sydney looked over, surprised at the sight. She was several inches shorter than Sydney had thought, and it dawned on her for the first time, that the good doctor had worn high heels in the office. In her jeans and T-shirt and her hair in an unkempt braid, she hardly looked like a threat. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm a psychiatrist, I'm used to doing the listening," she explained. Still confused, Sydney nodded. "I wanted to talk. I just thought you might need to hear this," she suggested.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Michael told me you loved it here… Sometimes he still comes here, just to walk and think, probably about you," she noted. The brunette looked down at her hands as Becky cleared her throat. "I'm from Connecticut. I don't know if you knew that or not, but that's where I'm from. The only state in America that's both in New England and considered to be part of the New York tri-state," she smiled. Sydney looked up, silent as the woman continued, "I grew up not too far from New York City, but closer to Yale. The Borough of Woodmont, it's technically a part of Milford but it's considered fairly exclusive… I love it there. The water, the smell of it, the people… I was lucky to have the childhood I did. Very lucky. Private schools all the way, the same babysitter from the time I was six until I was in junior high. A great girl, a sweet girl… Then I started high school," she sighed.
Sydney took her silent cue, "What happened?"
"I went to this private high school, it was small. Most of us knew each other, if not by name, then by face," she said as the wind blew her hair. "There was this boy… He was in my homeroom junior year, and we'd had a few classes together. Everyone knew him, and everyone liked him. He was hardly the most popular boy, but he was friends with everyone. He'd been athletic - played baseball and basketball - and *so* smart… Much smarter then I was. I wasn't a poor student, and my teachers liked me, but he was in AP classes and… Just amazing," she vividly recalled.
"Somehow, I don't even remember now, he knew my name. Junior year, he ended up on crutches and in a wheelchair for most of the school year, re-cooperating from a couple of foot and knee surgeries. I have a chronically bad back, so when I'd leave class a few minutes early to go to the next class, I'd see him. We weren't allowed to talk in the halls, but from down the hallway he'd stop and yell that Duke basketball was better than UConn basketball and I would be so embarrassed because the school could hear us, and so happy because he was *flirting* with me. We'd debate baseball - I loved the Yankees and he loved the Kansas City Royals. I thought it was so bizarre that he rooted for the Royals, but it turned out that his first little league team had been the Royals, so he felt this loyalty to them. That was so sweet.
"Junior year he was named Prom King & had been named to the Homecoming court since freshman year… We were friends. Freshman year of college I had a growth spurt, but until then I was noticeably short and he was already 6'3" by the time we were juniors. So he'd get my books from the top of my locker for me or carry them for me. Senior year our desks were right next to each other and we started talking about things other than sports. The first month of school the building blew this massive fuse in the morning and he drove me home when we were dismissed early. I was getting out of the car and out of the blue this boy just leaned over and kissed me. For me it was just so out of left field, but looking back on it, I suppose I should have seen it coming.
"Our parents were not happy about it, but we got married. Brandon got accepted to Georgetown and I went to a community college down there and transferred in my junior year of college. After graduation he worked as an elementary school teacher. He loved it, he took care of kids while I was in school… I was almost a year into my residency when he died. We were talking about children, and were looking to buy a house. Things were just starting to go well for us. I had him for eight years, almost nine, but one thing he taught me is that no time is *ever* enough, and you get down on your knees every night and thank God for what you are given," she advised.
"Brandon was sweeter than I ever thought any boy could be. He was thoughtful and funny and I never thought he was more attractive than when he was lounging around the house in his sweatpants and old football jersey… Whether I like it or not, that boy was the love of my life."
"What does this have to do with me?" Sydney whispered, hesitant to end Becky's sweet story.
"I'm trained to observe things Sydney, to pick up from a few moments of conversation what other people take years to see. Still, even if I weren't, it would be obvious that you love Michael. You love him like I loved Brandon. That's how I wish I could love Michael, but a love like that… It's only once in a lifetime, if you're lucky. Then you settle for what you can get. For comfortable, for companionship," Becky sighed. "Sometimes Sydney, it's just better than being alone," she explained and chuckled bitterly. "Really, it's ironic, because that's not the type of person my parents raised me to be. When I lost Brandon… I swore I'd never get married again. Then I met Michael, and he understood. He understood what I needed and what I wanted and my pain. So it didn't seem so bad."
"Becky - " she started.
"Please, let me finish," she requested. After a moment Sydney nodded and returned to her silence. "From the moment I walked into my office and introduced myself, you've hated me. I don't blame you for hating me, or expect otherwise. In your position I'd detest me too," Becky agreed. "I was never Michael's psychiatrist. They sent him to me, briefly, for grief counseling. That's how I met him, then we just started going out to talk over coffee. Then we started to date," she recalled. "For the first twelve dates all he did was talk about you. Trust me, I counted, it was twelve."
Sydney was loath to interrupt but couldn't help herself, "I thought you only dated for three months."
"Seriously for three, but as a whole it was probably closer to eight months," she considered. "We took things slow, very slow. Then on the thirteenth date things changed. He didn't mention you, not once. After that he kept postponing the next date. When I finally tracked him down, I swear I could watch the guilt eat him alive," Becky recalled. "I told him it was okay. That I hated myself for the first morning I woke up not crying, for the first day that went by and he wasn't on my thought at every moment… Still it was okay. Life needs to go on."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what this has to do with me?"
"Everything and nothing," Becky conceded. "I see myself in so many ways Sydney, so many types of people I want to be. For so many reasons right now I'm not that person," she whispered as she wiped a few lingering tears from her cheeks. Sydney then watched as she reached into her jacket and pulled something out. "Here," she said as she placed the warm, silver object into Sydney's hands.
"What is this?"
"It belonged to Robert, Michael's grandfather. It's a family heirloom. In his… misguided attempt to assimilate me into his life, he gave it to me."
"Why are you telling me this?" Sydney asked, wondering if Becky was trying to be cruel and unusual. Of course she recognized the watch; it was his father's watch, and Michael could have set his heart by it. That said, it stopped on October 1st, 2001, the day they met.
"It doesn't belong to me," she shook her head. "I knew when he gave it to me that I wouldn't have it for long. It never belonged to me. If it belongs to anyone other then Michael, it's you."
As she studied the watch she pursed her lips together, "You were waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Something like that," Becky chuckled. "I can't get up and look at myself in the mirror anymore Sydney. I can't be married knowing that the woman Michael really has that special connection to is out there, and needs him. If Brandon came back, I'd want Michael to understand, to let me go back to him… Being alone sucks," she sighed, "but it's better than what I'm doing now. Everyone's miserable, and I hate that."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm leaving the CIA. I gave in my two weeks notice last Friday, but I'm using the rest of my PTO time next week. I have to talk to Michael, there are so many things we need to work out…"
"You're going to leave L.A.," Sydney realized.
"My sister lives nearby, but the rest of my family is still in Connecticut. UConn's basketball team is pretty good this year, and I miss being able to watch them. And you should see the bills I have for getting Yankee games on Pay-Per-View," she joked as the brunette cracked an uncomfortable smile. "I love Michael, Sydney, but you love him more. My marriage is a mess anyway… We could have made it work, but I can't do this anymore. I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror, to be proud of the work I do as a psychiatrist, and right now I can't do either."
Sydney looked down at the warm metal in her hand and then back up at Becky. "Thank you."
The redhead sighed and rested her head on her palm. "No one's happy right now. I don't know what's going to make me happy, but I know I can't find it here."
"When are you leaving?"
"Next weekend, probably. I need to clear up some things… speak to Michael. Take care of yourself though Sydney. Don't let this darkness take you from him again."
"I won't," she promised.
With one more smile Becky turned around and disappeared into the dark night.
A/N: What do you think? I think I redeemed myself from the slightly off chapter 12. I dragged it out to thirteen, I'm so proud of myself! She's from Connecticut because, well, I am. Plus it's the only state I know of where you've got Red Sox, Mets & Yankees fans all in the same place. Pretty nuts, huh? Oh, the Borough of Woodmont IS real, it's right across the town border from where I live - it's where my Mom wants to live one day. I wish I lived there. I think that's it. Please tell me what you think, as always.
