Chapter Ten: Picking Up Pieces
Walking into the self-storage warehouse, Sydney paused behind a stack of moving boxes to collect herself. She could hear movement up ahead, just beyond where she stood; in her mind she imagined Vaughn pacing the familiar chain-link enclosure, gathering his thoughts as she did now. Listening closely, Sydney was puzzled by a rhythmic whacking sound; she couldn't place it, her curiosity piqued.
Leaning slightly to her left, she peered around the boxes. Vaughn was indeed inside their clandestine meeting space, looking the way he always had, comfortable in blue jeans, a gray t-shirt and brown suede jacket.
In his hand he held a weathered two-by-four and he was using it as a hockey stick, knocking around a discarded roll of packing tape. He whacked the makeshift puck from side to side, chasing it around the small space, his lips pressed tightly together as he concentrated on his lone pick-up game.
Sydney's heart ached. The image of Vaughn, boyish and playful, was almost more than she could bear. It was those times in her past when he looked much the same that she remembered most fondly: the walks through the park, the ice cream at twilight, the practice sessions out on the ice.
Looking down at herself, Sydney suddenly realized that she was wearing the same sweater she'd worn on their last day at the ice rink. She wanted to find symbolism in it, but there was none; it had simply been the first thing she'd grabbed on her way out the door.
Sydney both did and did not want to disrupt Vaughn; however, he had summoned her there for a purpose. Her heart couldn't stand to wait a moment longer. Accidentally, but on purpose, Sydney dropped Will's car keys on the concrete floor as she stepped around the boxes that had previously obscured her from Vaughn's view.
Stopping short, Vaughn snapped his head up and smiled disarmingly as Sydney approached. She slid open the chain-link gate and stepped inside the intimate space, a wary smile on her lips.
"Hi," Vaughn offered, tossing the plank of wood to the side. It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the emptiness surrounding them.
"Hi," Sydney replied, nervously sliding the ring linking Will's jangling keys on and off her index finger. Aware suddenly of how intrusive the noise was in this private space, she quickly dropped the keys into her pocket.
Standing a few feet away from each other, they were quiet, their eyes meeting cautiously. Vaughn finally broke the silence, the words he had been preparing rushing from his lips.
"Can I change my mind?"
Sydney was silent, something welling up within her. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was fear – whatever it was, it kept her rooted to the spot.
It seemed an eternity before she spoke, asking the question to which she already knew the answer.
"About what?"
Vaughn smiled hesitantly. "About us," He told her, his expression hopeful. "About our relationship."
Sydney nodded. "Okay," She said. "But why? You seemed so sure-"
"I did some thinking," Vaughn interrupted, eager to explain. "Maybe one of the reasons we always worked so well together was because we agreed early on that we could tell each other anything. I told you once that you would always have an ally, and you trusted that. It made a difference in how we interacted, how we did our jobs."
"But-" Sydney was heartened by his logic, but cautious just the same. "That was before everything changed, Vaughn. Back then, we were skirting around the real truth the whole time we were together, before SD-6 was dismantled."
"What truth was that?" Vaughn asked, although he knew he didn't have to.
Sydney turned her face toward the floor, swallowing hard. "That we had feelings for each other. Strong feelings."
Vaughn opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Sydney had a point, and he knew it. Turning away from her, Vaughn ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply.
"Okay," He said finally, nodding his head as he slowly turned back to her. "But truthfully, Syd, we have enough history that I think we can move on from there and be friends."
Sydney couldn't help but laugh, a rueful chuckle that filled the space between them.
"Oh, I get it. This is the 'let's just be friends' speech, right?"
Vaughn grinned. "No, not really," He sobered, taking a deep breath. "Syd, I know we can't go back in time, but-" He approached her, his eyes deep and earnest. "Why can't we just go back to the way things were then? Before SD-6 was gone, before the barriers were removed. Because honestly, there are barriers in place now. And then, we worked well around it. We were able to talk about anything, share things – I miss that, Syd."
Sydney looked up into his eyes, pieces of her heart pressing into her soul, rubbing it raw. She pushed back the tears, defying the emotion that welled behind her eyes.
"As long as we're speaking honestly, Vaughn," Sydney said, lifting a hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to tell you, I-" The words were on the tip of her tongue. She could taste them, feel their texture. But she swallowed them, chose ones less weighted. "I still have feelings for you."
Vaughn nodded soberly. "I understand that."
"No," Sydney said insistently. "No, I don't think you do," Her eyes searched his face. "Imagine if you woke up tomorrow morning and Alice told you that during the night she had fallen in love with someone else, that she was leaving you, no room for discussion. That's how I felt when I saw that ring on your finger, Vaughn. I had no say in the matter, no chance to question it. I haven't had two years to get used the idea of being without you."
"Who says I'm used to the idea?" The words tumbled from Vaughn's mouth before he could stop them. Their eyes locked, Sydney surprised by his confession. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I was never used to the idea that you were gone, Syd, and especially not to the idea that you were dead. And now you're here, and – well, it's a lot to try to get used to. I don't know that it's entirely possible."
Sydney walked past him to a makeshift bench that had been constructed from three shipping crates and a plank of particleboard. Sitting down, Sydney placed her hands in her lap, her eyes following the curve of her fingers.
"I can't wrap my head around any of it," She admitted softly, her voice punctuating the charged silence. "My mother filled in a lot of the blanks for me today, and I still can't fully comprehend that two years of my life are just gone, missing. I admit, Vaughn, having you back as a friend would fill in a few missing pieces, but, I don't know if it's right. I mean, I've been seeing Dr. Barnett and she's advised me to work towards getting over you, getting over us, but," Sydney paused, drawing in a deep breath. "If she knew how poorly I'd taken her advice-" Her voice drifted off as she lifted her eyes to see Vaughn standing beside her.
"I've not taken it, either," He admitted quietly. "Not completely, anyway."
"But you've moved on. You're married."
Vaughn dropped his eyes to the floor. "Yeah," He said hollowly.
Silence prevailed for a few moments, both of them thinking deeply, both of their hearts and minds waging war over what they wanted and what was right. It was a battle both won and lost, both of them lacking the proper weapons for the fight, both unwilling to surrender.
"Listen, Syd," Vaughn sat down beside her, leaving at least a foot of space between them. "Do you think we can manage it? I'd like it if we could kinda go back to the way things were, back when we first met-"
"I can't go back there," Sydney admitted strongly, her eyes dark. "I can't be in that place again, Vaughn. What kept us apart then was an enemy, a real enemy, and now – I can't put Alice in that role. I don't want to. It's not fair, especially to her," She looked away from him, concentrating on a loose thread on her sweater. "I meant what I said last night. She's decent and kind, and it's wrong of me to try to paint her as some kind of menace, some kind of evil power keeping you and I apart. The separation we had before was forced upon us by SD-6. This separation," Sydney met Vaughn's eyes. "This one is a choice."
"Okay," Vaughn nodded, the truth in her words causing pain that he wouldn't let her see. "What do we do now?" He slid his hands in the pockets of his jacket, leaning back against the chain-link. "We can't go back, and the arrangement I so stupidly set up wasn't working. What now?"
Sydney smiled softly. "Well, we've admitted that we'd like to be friends, so why don't we do that and then just see how it goes from there?" She suggested, turning to face him.
"You got good grades in school, didn't you?" Vaughn teased, smiling easily.
"I bet you did, too," Sydney poked him with her elbow, unaware of how deeply he felt it.
"Well, according to Alice, I got an A-plus in Italian," Vaughn rolled his eyes, still disgusted with his mistake. Sydney gave him a strange look, and he quickly explained. "Note to self," He finished. "From now on, French restaurants only. That one's easier to explain."
They were quiet for a few minutes, both contemplating the ease with which they'd fallen back in, the currents of old feelings drifting them toward one another. Vaughn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a deep, cleansing breath escaping him.
"When I got the call, in Las Vegas," He said, his voice textured with feeling. "I didn't want it to be true," He admitted. "I didn't, and yet I did – because I knew this would happen. I knew I'd be torn between the past and the present, the memory and the reality of you being in my life."
This time, there was no stopping it as tears welled up in Sydney's eyes, the warehouse enclosure blurring before her. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat stubborn and impassable.
"On the flight to Hong Kong, the whole way there, I was angry with myself," Vaughn sighed, fighting emotion of his own. "If I had just waited one more day before asking Alice to marry me. One more day-"
"Vaughn," Sydney reached over and placed her hand over his. He looked at her, his expression softening when as he witnessed the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Vaughn, don't do this," She pleaded.
"Sydney," He sighed, her name a confession in itself. "Just 24 hours."
Sydney sniffed, tears dripping onto her sweater. "Vaughn," She said. "She'd still have been pregnant."
The words struck a chord, and Vaughn drew in one deep breath after another. It was true. His desire to move on, to extricate Sydney from his heart – that had not been the reason. The story was deeper than that. There was more, much more to tell.
"Last night, in the kitchen," Vaughn leaned into Sydney then, offering his shoulder, sliding an arm around her back. She readily accepted, laying her head against him, fresh tears filling her tired eyes. "I wanted to do something. Not just to hold your hand, but," Vaughn shook his head. "I just wanted to feel something other than guilt, something other than this overwhelming sense that I had let you down."
"You didn't," Sydney insisted, willing her stubborn heart to agree. "You didn't, Michael, honestly."
Vaughn drew back from her slightly, the mention of his given name causing him to smile. Sydney lifted her head, met his eyes, her expression questioning.
"Please," He said, grinning. "I've never asked you this before, but – don't call me Michael."
Sydney couldn't fight the grin that pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Get a lot of that at home, do you?"
"Oh, god," Vaughn moaned, rolling his eyes. "I hear it all the time. 'Michael, take out the garbage. Michael, pick up your socks. Michael, use a coaster.'"
"A coaster?" Sydney laughed outright, her tears abating.
"Yeah, she's, like, obsessed with them," Vaughn's shoulders slumped as he relaxed, the laughter releasing what felt like years of tension. "You know, she wasn't like this before we married. We lived together for a while," He glanced down at Sydney in time to see her squeeze her eyes shut, her smile lessening. "I'm sorry, Syd – too much to know?"
"Too much to think about," Sydney admitted, resting against him.
Vaughn smiled again, gently pressing his cheek to her forehead. "Yeah, well, you know – she never offered me a drawer."
"Hey, Pip – get down, girl," Sydney gently nudged the dog back as she opened the apartment door, quickly closing it again before Pip could escape. Her hair windblown, Sydney walked over to the couch and stopped, her hands on her hips, her flushed cheeks framing a wide smile.
Will glanced up from the paperwork in his lap, taking the pencil from between his teeth.
"I take it from that expression that it went well."
Sydney sighed deeply and tossed Will's keys onto the coffee table. "You could say that," She nodded. Unzipping her sweater, she pulled it off and draped it over the back of a nearby chair.
Will watched her for a moment, slowly removing his glasses and laying them on top of an open file on the couch cushion next to him. He could see, not just from her smile, but also from the way she moved that things with Vaughn had gone better than expected. Sydney seemed somehow lighter, her spirit liberated, as she walked past him and headed into the kitchen.
His eyes following her, Will swallowed hard. It wasn't that he wished for Sydney to be unhappy; he wanted nothing more than to see her at peace. But the idea that this new giddiness had come as a result of Vaughn – all at once, Will was pleased and jealous. But he was a good friend, and he'd rather die than let Sydney see that her reconciliation with Michael Vaughn caused him pain in a way he'd come to terms with long ago.
Appearing behind him, a bottle of water in hand, Sydney snuck a peek at what he was working on. "More homework?"
"Yeah," Will grabbed his glasses and put them back on, forcing himself to concentrate despite the distraction of his yearning. "I'm going to be speaking in the morning briefing about some of the intel your mother provided. I'm just making some notes."
"Don't stress about it," Sydney playfully tousled his hair, the touch of her hand making it impossible for him to pay attention to the papers in his hand. "I think I'm gonna go to bed," Sydney announced, walking around and grabbing her sweater. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight," Will called after her as she started down the hallway. Sighing deeply, Will shook his head to clear his mind and turned back to the task at hand. He was just picking back up where he left off when Sydney appeared again, standing in the doorway to the living room in her pajamas.
"Will."
Will jotted down a quick note to keep his place and glanced up over the top of his glasses. "Yeah?"
"After my apartment was cleared out, you said a lot of my furniture got divided up," Sydney's eyes narrowed in question. "What happened to my dresser? From my bedroom."
Will thought for a moment, tucking the pencil behind his ear. "Oh, well, your dad and Vaughn moved it into the storage facility," He nodded. "And after I got this place and got your table, I went over and looked for it. It was there, but I decided not to take it. Part of it was missing."
Sydney's heart leapt into her throat as she anticipated Will's reply. "Which part?"
"The middle drawer."
Michael Vaughn was seriously late. As he rushed around the kitchen, half a piece of toast hanging from his mouth, he knocked a juice glass off the counter and watched helplessly as it shattered on the beige linoleum.
"Damn," Vaughn cursed, spitting the toast into his hand. He tossed it at the sink, barely making it, and grabbed five or six paper towels from the roll over the microwave. Crouching down, grateful he'd already put on his shoes, he attempted to clean up the juice without catching his fingers on the jagged pieces of glass.
Alice had left early for a meeting at her office. When she'd gotten up, an hour before they usually rose, she'd turned off the alarm and had forgotten to reset it for her husband. He had woken up forty-five minutes later than usual and had immediately launched into a panicked rush to make it out the door. One of the things Kendall hated most was when agents showed up late to morning briefing.
Paper towels dripping, Vaughn hurried to the garbage can to drop them in. He then grabbed the broom from the pantry and was in the middle of sweeping up the sticky shards of glass when the telephone began to ring.
Vaughn glanced up at the clock on the microwave. He should've been out the door almost twenty minutes ago.
"Arrrgh," Vaughn growled, tossing the broom aside and stepping over the mess on the floor. He thought of letting the machine pick up the call, but past experience never allowed him to let a phone go unanswered. Grabbing the cordless handset off the base, he quickly answered. "Hello?"
A warm voice greeted him. "Hi, this is Abby calling from Dr. Creighton's office. May I speak to Alice Vaughn, please?"
Vaughn cradled the phone with his shoulder and reached for the broom. "She's already gone to work. This is her husband – can I help you?"
"Oh, hi, Mr. Vaughn," Abby brightened, her professional tone relaxing slightly. "I was just calling to remind Alice of her appointment at 10:15 on Thursday. Would you mind letting her know I called?"
"Oh, sure, I'll tell her," Vaughn hastily swept the pieces into a neat pile. Abby thanked him, and Vaughn suddenly remembered something he wanted to ask her. "Before you go, Abby, I was wondering something – Alice and I were discussing this the other night. How soon will we be able to get an ultrasound, you know, to look at the baby?"
Abby chuckled, her experience in a obstetrician's office turning this conversation into the familiar. "Well, let me look at her chart," She was quiet for a moment. Vaughn could hear the turning of pages, the tapping of a pen. "She's fifteen weeks, so, really, anytime. Remind Alice to bring that up with Dr. Creighton, and we'll see what we can do."
"Great, thanks. I'll give Alice the news." With that, Abby wished him well and the call ended. Vaughn leaned the broom up against the counter and hung up the phone before reaching for the dustpan to collect the broken glass.
With that task completed, Vaughn dashed back to the bedroom to put on his suit coat and checked quickly to be sure he had his wallet, cell phone and keys.
"Keys, keys," Vaughn repeated this frustrating mantra as he searched the bedroom, digging through his top drawer, turning over the bed pillows and kicking aside his abandoned pajamas which lay in heap at the foot of the bed. "Damn."
Back in the living room, Vaughn checked the pockets of his suede jacket and then turned to the entertainment center and bookshelves before finally and triumphantly setting his eyes upon the ring of gleaming keys laying right where he'd left them on the coffee table. Bending to scoop them up, he noticed the photo album full of his pictures of France. It was sitting next to the L.A. Times, right where Will Tippin had left it Sunday night.
Alice's voice echoed through Vaughn's mind; the night before she had kindly reminded him to put the photo album back in the bookshelf. Sighing, Vaughn grabbed it and reached to slide it back into place among the travel guides and old yearbooks. An idea struck him suddenly, and he stopped, his hand resting on the spine of the album. The dates of his vacation flashed in his mind and his brow furrowed. Before the thoughts could fully form, however, his cell phone loudly chirped.
"Hello?" Vaughn brought it to his ear as he headed for the door. "Hey, Weiss. Yes, I'm running late. Well, stall it for me, would you? I swear, I'm on my way. Seriously, I'm walking out the door right now. I'll be there in ten."
"Don't forget the Philippines," Weiss flipped a page in his notebook, pointing at it with his pen. "Sloane had a beach house there for a while. Maybe he's gone back."
"Derevko said she was there not too long ago. She didn't turn anything up," Will consulted his notes, as well, opening a file folder. "I think, based on what she's given us, the southern region of Europe may be a safe bet."
Across the wide mahogany table, Vaughn was busy jotting something in his notebook as Sydney reviewed a report generated by a CIA contact in Milan. She glanced over at Will, smiled, and turned her attention back to pages in her hand. The brainstorming session had been going on for nearly and hour, an impromptu gathering after the official briefing had ended.
Glancing at his watch, Will started to gather his things. "I'm due in another meeting in about ten minutes, and I need to review a couple of things," He said as he pushed back his chair. "Excuse me."
"We're about done here, anyway," Weiss tossed his pen onto the tabletop as he let out a tired sigh. "The dead ends have been pretty thoroughly exhausted."
After Will had gone, Vaughn sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the notes he'd scribbled on the legal pad before him. Sydney looked up at him, then over at Weiss, who was casually watching the two of them. He smiled, a message hidden within his mirthful grin. Sydney just narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth hinting at a smile of her own.
"I need to make a phone call," Vaughn said suddenly, standing up. He grabbed his notebook and tucked it under his arm. "I'm also going to check with a contact of mine in France, find out if he's heard anything. I'll let you know." He nodded at Weiss and then at Sydney, his eyes lingering on her a moment longer before he turned and left the room.
"You two seem a bit cozier," Weiss mused, shuffling his notes and stuffing them randomly into his black leather portfolio.
Casually, Sydney reorganized the reports she'd been perusing, sliding them into the labeled folder and stacking them neatly. "I don't know about cozy," She said quietly. "But things have improved, if that's what you mean."
"Sure, that's what I mean," Weiss nodded, sitting back in his chair. He waited a moment, gathering his thoughts, his expression sobering. "Hey, Syd," His voice stopped her as she was about to rise from her chair. "You know he blamed himself for a long time. I don't know if he told you that," Weiss searched for the right words, reaching up to absently stroke his tie. "The night you disappeared. He spent a long time afterwards saying that he shouldn't have just dropped you off, should've walked you inside, should've stuck around. I don't know that he's ever gotten over that."
Sydney was riveted, Weiss's words penetrating her deeply. She blinked hard against the gathering moisture in her eyes.
"No, he didn't tell me," Sydney shook her head, her voice quiet. "But he didn't have to. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at me."
Weiss nodded, his lips pressed into a straight line. He slowly got up from his seat, tucking his pen in his breast pocket.
"I just thought you should know, in case he seems reluctant to let you out of his sight," Weiss moved toward the door. "Cuz to tell you the truth, Syd, I'd be reluctant, too."
The silence in the room enveloped Sydney as she sat alone, struggling against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. She breathed deeply, willing herself to stay in control, stubbornly refusing the tears that begged to fall. Raising a hand to her forehead, she lowered her head, closing her eyes, quietly gathering the pieces of her heart. After a moment or two, she raised her head again, looking out into the ops center through the panels of glass bordering the door.
Will was just outside, pacing, his face a mask of worry. Sydney, grateful to put herself aside, grabbed her notebook and left the conference room. She came to Will's side, her brow knit with concern.
"Will, you look like you're in pain," She observed nervously. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, hey, Syd," Will stopped pacing and attempted a smile. "I've got a meeting with Kendall and your dad in about five minutes and I'm wrecked."
"Why?" Sydney smiled, surprised. "You speak in the briefings all the time, in front of Kendall, in front of my dad. What's the problem?"
"Syd," Will raised his eyebrows, uncertain that Sydney grasped the gravity of the situation. "This is, like, one on one. Your dad, Kendall, and me. And I don't have any idea what it's about." Distractedly, he ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Maybe I'm getting fired."
"I doubt that," Sydney insisted, crossing her arms over the notebook as she held it against her body. "It's probably just to more information, go a little more in depth. Or maybe they want you to start working on something that's classified, something they couldn't bring up in front of everyone."
Will exhaled sharply. "Yeah, yeah, that's probably it," He nodded. He looked away from her for a moment, then looked back, shaking his head. "I don't know why I get this way. I'm, like, sweating buckets under this jacket," He pulled at his mustard yellow corduroy blazer.
"First of all, burn this," Sydney yanked at the sleeve of the jacket. "Secondly, take a deep breath and don't move. I'll be right back." She jogged over to her workstation, laid down her notebook and pulled open a drawer. Digging in her handbag, she pulled out a small silver tube and soon returned to Will's side. "I love this stuff," She held up the tube for him to see. "I just picked more up at the drug store the other day." Taking off the cap, she rolled up the tube and grabbed Will's chin with one hand. "Hold still." With the other hand, she began to apply the contents of the tube to Will's lips.
Will froze. "Is this lipstick?" He demanded, his eyes darting around the room to see who was watching. "Are you putting lipstick on me?"
"No," Sydney chuckled, putting the cap back on after she had finished. She demonstrated for him how to rub his lips together, then she grinned. "It's aroma therapy lip balm. It's supposed to relax you, keep you calm," She slid the tube in her pocket. "I used to put it on just before I'd go into meetings with Sloane at SD-6."
Will sighed, relieved. "Did it work?"
Sydney shrugged. "Well, I never killed him."
"Maybe it works too well," Will smiled as Sydney playfully shoved him. As he moved away from her, avoiding her reach, she glanced past him and caught sight of Vaughn. He was on the phone at his desk, his brow furrowed, his face serious. "Hey, thanks, Syd," Will lightly touched her arm as he looked at his watch. "I gotta go – it's show time."
"You'll be great," Sydney called after him as he headed toward the hallway leading to Kendall's office. She watched him go for a moment, and then, unable to stop herself, she began to walk slowly in the direction of Vaughn's workstation.
Vaughn did not see her approaching, his attention given fully to his phone conversation.
"Yes, thank you. No, you've been very helpful. I appreciate it. Thanks again," Vaughn hung up and immediately dialed again. Tapping his pen on the desktop, Vaughn sighed when he heard his wife's voicemail, rather than his wife, answer the line. He waited for the tone and began to leave a message. "Alice, hi. Uhm, I know I said I was going to hockey practice tonight, but I'm just gonna come home instead. I think it's important that we talk. Don't worry about dinner - I'll bring something home. Call me if that's not okay," Vaughn hesitated, suddenly aware of Sydney's presence as she stood behind him. Quietly, he concluded his call. "Love you. Bye."
Vaughn hung up the receiver as he rose to his feet, slowly turning around. Their eyes meeting, Sydney and Vaughn both smiled, a shy, quiet smile, the kind often exchanged between friends just becoming comfortable with each other after a long while apart. Vaughn was about to speak when Weiss approached, rubbing his hands together, his face bearing a warm smile.
"I'm hungry," He announced, apropos of nothing. "Is anybody hungry?"
Sydney grinned, glancing at Weiss and then back at Vaughn, her eyes suddenly bright.
"I'm hungry," She decided, nodding. "Let's go get some lunch."
******
A/N: The response to the last chapter was overwhelming. Thanks so much for sharing your kind words. If I've pleased you again with this chapter, don't hold back – I'd love to hear it.
Confidential to Shannon: Drugs are bad, but thanks for the compliment. :-)
