CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – ADMISSIONS

When Vaughn returned from retrieving his bag, he bolted the front door and turned out the lights in the living room.  He moved toward the bedroom he had seen Sydney disappear into, noticing that the door was slightly ajar, sending a slim beam of low yellow light across the floor and up the wall.  He took a deep breath and silently pushed the door open, grateful it did not creak, not wanting to disturb the picture before him.

Sydney had lit several candles throughout the room and was standing with her back to him, staring out the window.  She had changed into sleepwear, a strappy white tank-top and loose-fitting medical scrub pants, and had her arms crossed in front of her chest, one hand absentmindedly running up and down her tricep. 

After soaking in the sight for a few moments, Vaughn noticed that Sydney's eyes had found him through his reflection in the darkened window.  "You cold?" he asked, dropping his bag and closing the door behind him, leaning against it and allowing himself to relish just being in the same room as her.

"No, I'm not cold," she answered, her bare feet padding along the carpet towards him, "I'm just feeling…"  She trailed off and he finished her thought for her and pulled her into his arms, "A little overwhelmed?"

"Yeah," Sydney sighed, resting her cheek against Vaughn's chest.  "So much has happened, and I don't know what to do or where to begin…."

"Then don't," he responded.  Vaughn pulled back enough to grab her chin and pull her into a delicate kiss.  Lovingly searching her face, he made the request he had been longing to make when he saw her in that cell in Hong Kong,

"Just let me hold you?"

Her eyes filled with tears again at his simple plea.  She pulled him toward the bed, stopping to allow him to remove his shoes & socks.  She stood facing him and one-by-one undid the buttons on his shirt, revealing his sleeveless undershirt.  She let him remove his own pants as she lay down on her bed.

A moment later, as she lay on her side staring at the flickering candle on her nightstand, Sydney felt him climb onto the bed behind her.  He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her back flush against his chest.  She reached down to where his hand was splayed across her stomach and covered his hand with hers, entwining their fingers.  She felt his chest press against her as he inhaled the scent of her hair.

"God, I've missed you," he breathed.

Sydney snuggled back as far into him as she could get and closed her eyes.  "Me too, Vaughn," she answered as her lips curved into a truly contented smile and she drifted off to sleep.

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Sydney blinked her eyes open the next morning and smiled.  Sometime during the night she had shifted in her sleep, and the first thing she saw upon waking was the side of Michael Vaughn's neck.  She was huddled tight to him with her head resting on his shoulder and her arms immobilized between them.  His arms that were wrapped around her body tightened, drawing her closer, in reaction to the tickle of her deeper breathing on his skin.

She immediately stilled, trying to keep from waking him, but it was too late.  He inhaled deeply and sighed into her hair, breathing his greeting, "Good morning."  She nuzzled further into his neck, delighting in the rough feel of his stubble-beard against her sensitive morning skin. 

"I think they may have to amputate my arm from the lack of circulation," he joked softly.  Sydney immediately tried to pull back from her position, afraid of hurting him, but his arms held her firmly in place.  "But I love it.  I want to wake up just like this every morning."

She relaxed back into him, trying to keep the tears from coming again.  I can't believe how much I've been crying lately.  I feel like such a freak, she thought, even though she knew that she had every reason to be emotional.  He's here… we're together, finally… why can't I relax and just feel happy? 

But Sydney knew there was one thing left to do.  She had to tell Vaughn the story of her missing two years.  How would he take it, knowing that even after she had escaped and recovered that she chose to pursue Sloane instead of him?  Would he understand that she did it for them, so that they would be safe together?  Admit it, Sydney, she admonished herself, you're scared.

"Vaughn?" she whispered, taking a shuddering breath.

"What's wrong, Syd?" he questioned her in response, concern filling his voice as he adjusted so he could look at her face.  "Are you okay?"

"Yes?  Well, I… I'm not sure.  I have to…" Sydney stuttered, sitting up on the bed, "You need to know.  There's something you need to see before anything else happens."  She crawled off the bed and across the room to her dresser.

Vaughn watched as Sydney opened a drawer and started digging through her lingerie, finally pulling out a thick stack of folded papers.  He hadn't expected this kind of morning.  Despite his exhaustion, Vaughn had stayed awake long after Sydney had fallen asleep.  He had let the moment wash over him, being with the woman he loved after everything.

They were home.  They were together.  Things were finally perfect, but she apparently didn't think so.  What could she possibly have to show him that was so important?  Sydney crossed back to the bed, stopping at the edge.  She hesitated before handing the pages to him, "You need to read this."

He held the papers gingerly, noticing that they were full of flowing handwriting… a woman's handwriting.  "What is this?"

A pained look crossed her face as she answered him, "Please, just read all of it.  I… I'll be in the shower."  She didn't give him a chance to object before almost running out of the room, into the tiny bathroom, and shutting the door.

Vaughn was debating whether or not he should follow her, until he heard the sound of the shower spray turning on.  He turned his attention back to the pages in his hand and decided to comply with Sydney's wishes.

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Sydney was in the shower sobbing, the hot water running over her face masking her tears.  She never thought that she could do anything that Vaughn might not forgive her for, but this might be it.  She had let her need for revenge keep her from him.  He had almost killed himself looking for her, and when she had the chance to run to him, she chose to stay with her mother and Sark.

Suddenly, her guilt turned to panic.  Her eyes shot open and she wanted to run, sopping wet, back into the bedroom and rip the letter from his hands before he had a chance to discover what she had done.  It wasn't too late.  He didn't need to know.  It wasn't important.

But, she soon realized that wouldn't work.  Weiss knew.  The CIA knew.  Her father knew.  Most importantly, she knew, and she couldn't be with him while something so big was hanging over her.  He would want to know where she had been for two years and she couldn't lie to him.  

Taking a few deep breaths, Sydney quickly finished washing her hair and shut off the water.  She dried herself and slid into her robe.  Her hand paused on the doorknob, afraid to see his reaction, for he had certainly finished reading Irina's letter by now.  Slowly she pulled the door open and peered into the bedroom.  After a moment, she stepped into the room and scanned it again, praying that her eyes were deceiving her.

He was gone.

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Vaughn had finished the letter in a fit of anger, pulled on his clothes and bolted.  He was walking fast, because his injuries still did not allow him to run, but without a destination.  He knew that Sydney had given him the letter to tell him her story… where she had been for two years.

But after all the pages of writing by her mother, only one line kept running through his mind.  Sloane's torment of Sydney consisted of pictures of her funeral, her grave, and then finally, pictures of the man she loved… married to another woman.  The guilt Vaughn thought had been banished when Sydney forgave him had returned full-force, and he felt like he needed to vomit.  His stupid and reckless actions had been used to torture her.  He had provided Sloane with exactly the kind of ammunition he needed to abuse Sydney into submission.  If Irina hadn't gotten there…

No wonder she didn't want to come back to him. 

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Sydney silently got dressed, cleaned up the bathroom, and made her bed.  She then went into the kitchen to get some coffee.  She refused to dwell on this.  She knew he would be upset.  It wasn't a surprise.  It was entirely her own doing.

After awhile Sydney heard the front door open, and turned quickly, the disappointment clear on her face when her father and Weiss walked in.  They came over to where she sat at the kitchen table and Weiss set down the breakfast coffee cake he had been carrying.  Her father immediately noticed Sydney's distress.

"Where's Vaughn?" he asked, "His car is still in the driveway."

"It is?" Sydney's surprised response came before she could check it.  That meant that he would be coming back.  She sighed in relief.

"Syd, what's going on?" Eric asked, "Mike's here, isn't he?"

Sydney looked down at her coffee cup and shook her head.  "He left," she whispered.  After pausing to ensure the stability of her voice, she explained that she had given him Irina's letter to read, and that when she returned, he was gone.  "He has every right to be angry.  I chose revenge over being with him.  Why wouldn't he be angry?  Why aren't you angry, Dad?"

Jack saw that his daughter was rapidly losing her grip on control, so he decided to tell her the truth, "Sydney, I was angry… angry with myself.  When I read that letter, all I could think of was that I had failed you.  I never thought for one second that you were to blame for anything.  None of what happened is your fault.  You did what you thought was right and now you are home, safe, with the people who love you."  He pulled her hand from the coffee cup and softly caressed it in his own.

Weiss listened to Jack's speech and then jumped in, "You dad's right, Syd.  Mike loves you.  I'm sure he feels the same way that Jack did.  He always felt it was his fault that you went missing… that he left you alone to be kidnapped.  I'm sure he isn't angry.  You'll see."

Suddenly, a look of realization came across Jack's face and he released his daughter's hand and stood.  "Eric, will you stay here with her for awhile?"  Weiss nodded, looking at Sydney's confused face.

"Where are you going, Dad?" she asked.

Sydney was too upset to argue when her father evaded her question.  "Don't worry about it, Sydney.  Just stay here with Eric.  I'll be back soon." 

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Jack found Vaughn exactly where he knew the younger man would be.  It was the same place he had found him on many other occasions in the months before he had gone to Hong Kong.  Walking up silently behind Vaughn's kneeling form, Jack wondered what they would do with this place now.  It was of no use to anyone anymore.

"Go away, Jack.  I don't want to talk about it."  Vaughn's strained voice came back towards him when he was just a few feet away from the flat, black headstone with the initials "S.B." on it.  Jack didn't stop walking until he was right next to his daughter's grave.  This man was second in importance to him; only Sydney meant more.  When she was missing, Vaughn was his only link to her, and his hopes for Sydney's future now always included Michael Vaughn.  He intended to get that future started for her right now.

"I can't help but wonder why you would come here, of all places, when you know this isn't her," Jack mused aloud, gesturing to the mound of green grass before him.  When he got no response, he continued, "She thinks you are angry with her."

That statement got Vaughn's attention, and his head snapped up from its hanging position, staring at the ground, and whipped around to face Jack.  "What?  Why?"

"She feels guilty for staying with her mother and Sark to track down Sloane instead of finding you.  She thinks you blame her for prolonging your time apart."  Jack watched Vaughn's expression turn from anger and exhaustion to one of pure anguish at the thought of causing Sydney in pain.  Jack continued, his only task at the moment to get the man in front of him back to his daughter.

"Michael, listen.  I know you feel guilty about this.  I know because I felt the same way.  I have realized something over the past month, though: None of this is our fault.  All of us are feeling guilty for what has occurred – you, me, Sydney, Irina, and even Weiss.  But none of us are responsible.  Sloane was.  We all handled it as best we could, and look… it worked.  She's home.  You're home.  We are all safe."

Vaughn nodded, keeping his eyes on Sydney's headstone as Jack continued, "If you keep worrying about your past actions, it will swallow you whole.  I don't want that for Sydney, and I don't want that for you.  You need each other right now."  He reached a hand out as Vaughn finally met his gaze, "She needs you, Michael."

Vaughn allowed himself to be pulled upright, and he and Jack exchanged a smile before beginning to walk towards the cemetery exit.  They walked without speaking back to the house.  When they reached the front step, Jack pulled out his keys and handed them to Vaughn.  Michael looked quizzically from the keys, to Jack's face, then back again.

"I don't need them anymore," Jack explained, trying to hide the smile that threatened to overtake his lips.  "I hadn't planned on staying here any longer than it took for you to get back to L.A.  I found a small apartment this morning that I can move into immediately."

At Vaughn's astonished face, Jack just opened the front door and went inside, leaving the younger man on the threshold staring at the pieces of metal in his hand.

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TBC

A/N:  Next chapter will be the last.  Thanks, everybody!  I'm so blessed to have had such terrific readers & reviewers for my first fic.  Thank you is not enough to express how appreciative I am.