Chapter Eleven: Coming Undone         

Water ran in the sink, spilling over Vaughn's hands as he washed the dishes and stacked them neatly in the wooden drying rack on the counter top. Rinsing the soapsuds from a dinner plate, he glanced at it long enough to see his shadowed reflection on the slick surface.

Vaughn sighed, breathing deeply in pursuit of the strength needed to have the conversation he had been dreading all day. The sharp blade of his newly acquired knowledge thrust deeper into his side as he reached for the drain plug and pulled it, letting the water spiral away. He could not delay it any further. His silence during dinner had already aroused Alice's suspicions; she would be seeking him out any moment, asking questions, requesting that he explain his reasons for wanting to talk.

After drying his hands, Vaughn snapped off the kitchen light and treaded lightly as he made his way into the living room. Alice was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a book in her lap. She looked up at her husband and smiled, pulling off her reading glasses before setting them and the book aside.

"Thank you for dinner," She said, her eyes on Vaughn's face as he quietly sat down beside her. "And for doing the dishes."

"You're welcome," Vaughn said automatically, reaching for the remote. He turned off the television and then rubbed his eyes, again drawing a deep breath.

"Michael, honey," Alice said soothingly, the words assaulting Vaughn's ears, a live wire of smoldering anger sparking in his mind. "I know you want to talk, and I have a feeling it's about last night. If so, you don't need to apologize… you explained when you came home. I understand that the watch is special to you-"

Vaughn interrupted her, unable to allow her to continue so far down the wrong track.

"This isn't about last night," He said, his voice low, noticeably controlled. "This is about something else entirely."

"Oh," Alice's face fell, her deep blue eyes mirroring her confusion. "Okay, then. What is it?"

Vaughn didn't look at her, his eyes resting instead on his hands as he methodically twisted his wedding band around his finger, the gilded band glinting yellow as it slowly rotated.

"I got a phone call this morning from Abby, at Dr. Creighton's office," Vaughn began. "She wanted to remind you of your appointment on Thursday."

"Oh, great," Alice smiled brightly, reaching out to touch Vaughn's arm. He resisted the urge to pull away. "Did you happen to ask her about the ultrasound?"

Meeting Alice's eyes for the first time, Vaughn nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," He couldn't hide the strands of anger woven into his voice. "And she told me something I hadn't realized," Vaughn's brow furrowed, his green eyes dark. "You're fifteen weeks along."

Alice glanced away from him as she considered this, her mind quickly checking the facts.

"Yes, that's right," She ultimately agreed. Her smile returned. "I made it through the first trimester."

Vaughn watched her carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "When I got to work, I started thinking about those fifteen weeks. I began to wonder how exactly that's calculated. I mean, no woman can be certain of the exact date she gets pregnant, right?"

Sensing that Vaughn was waiting for her reply, Alice shrugged, nodding. "Right."

"Okay, so, that being the case, I called Abby back," Vaughn shifted slightly on the couch, turning to face Alice, his expression hardening. "I wanted to know what the approximate conception date was, because something about that fifteen weeks didn't seem right."

As the words left Vaughn's mouth, the color drained from Alice's face, her smile fading completely. She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you just call me? I could've answered that for you," She tried to sound casual, but she was obviously unnerved.

"Good question," Vaughn nodded, his intensity increasing. "Why didn't I just ask you, Alice?"

Alice drew back, her eyes widening. She feigned confusion, shaking her head.

"I don't know."

"Well, then, I'll tell you," Vaughn continued. "I didn't ask you because I wanted an honest answer."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alice immediately uncrossed her legs and got up from the couch, turning her back to Vaughn, turning her back on the dawning of the truth.

Vaughn exhaled deeply as he also rose to his feet, following Alice into the bedroom. She went to her dresser and yanked open the top drawer, her defensiveness giving way to agitation. Vaughn leaned against the closet door, his arms crossed over his chest, watching as Alice grabbed her nightgown and tossed it onto the bed.

"Alice," Vaughn began, confirmation of what he already knew fueling his growing irritation. "Fifteen weeks ago, I was on vacation in France," He said loudly. "Tell me that what I'm thinking is wrong. Tell me honestly that I've got the dates screwed up or that the doctor is making a mistake and I'll drop this and never speak of it again."

Alice turned to him, her shallow breathing and quivering chin speaking words too loud for the four walls that attempted to contain them. Her eyes filling with tears, Alice gulped, trying hard to find her voice.

"I… I don't…" She went silent as a sob threatened to escape. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Alice simply shook her head, tears making their decent down her pale cheeks.

"Before I left for France," Vaughn's voice filled the void between them, unsympathetic, unmoved by her emotional display. "You and I were fighting. I remember because you were upset that a project at work was preventing you from taking time off so you could go with me. You were angry that I was going anyway, without you."

Alice was mute, her eyes fixed on Vaughn's face.

"I was only gone for two weeks, Alice," Vaughn pointed out, the shock of the truth making an appearance in his shattered tone. "But I guess you were so angry with me for leaving that you had to find someone else to entertain you while I was away."

"Stop it!" Alice suddenly cried, a sob choking her words. "Please, Michael, just stop."

"Stop what?" Vaughn demanded, angrily taking steps toward her. "Stop the truth, just the way you've been for the past three months?" He paused, a foot or so away, throwing his hands up into the air. "Who was it, Alice? A co-worker? A stranger in a bar? Who?"

Alice collapsed onto the bed, her tears overtaking her, her shoulders heaving with sobs. Vaughn took a step back from her, torn between anger and helplessness as he watched his wife emotionally fall apart. Hanging his head, he raked his hands through his hair as Alice remained silent except for her small, whimpering sobs.

Disgusted, Vaughn turned away from her and went back to the closet, pulling open the door. He reached in, grabbed his backpack, and then tossed it onto the bed. As it landed near Alice's crumpled body, she lifted her tear-stained face from the mattress.

Stricken, she picked herself up from the bed and faced Vaughn, her eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" She asked shakily, her voice broken. She watched as Vaughn went to his dresser and started removing boxer shorts, t-shirts and socks from his top drawer. "Michael, where are you going?"

Vaughn shoved the clothing into his backpack and went to the closet for a pair of jeans and a couple of neckties.

"I can't stay here, Alice. I can't sleep in this bed, pretend that we can survive this. You've just told me our whole marriage is a lie," Vaughn grabbed his dress shoes from the closet and shoved them in the bag, too, sliding the jeans and neckties on top. Going back for suits and dress shirts, he left them on their hangers, laying them out on the bed.

Alice panicked, running to step in front of Vaughn as he tried to retrieve a small black canvas case from the top shelf of the closet.

"No, Michael, no - I love you. I wanted to marry you. That's why I lied, I didn't want to lose you," Alice gripped Vaughn's shirt as desperation shone in her eyes.

Vaughn responded coldly. "That's the most twisted definition of love I've ever heard." He pushed past her and grabbed the canvas case, taking it with him into the bathroom. As he stood at the sink, collecting his shaving supplies and other small personal items, Alice sank back on the bed, sniffing loudly and giving herself over to a fresh spate of tears.

Returning to the bedroom, Vaughn shoved the small case into his backpack before zipping it closed. Alice was doubled over as she sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands.

"Don't go," She sobbed. "I'm sorry, Michael, I'm so sorry…"

Something in the way she said his name resonated in Vaughn's heart, reflecting off the broken pieces, echoing deeply. He sighed defeatedly, squeezing his eyes shut as he reached out a hand to his wife and gently stroked her flaxen hair.

"Why didn't you just tell me, Alice?" He begged, his voice plaintive. "A mistake is a mistake. Maybe we could have worked through it, maybe we could have found a way. But you let us get this far, you let me ask you to marry me on the pretense that you were carrying my child!"

Alice sat up suddenly, her watery eyes searching Vaughn's face. "Wait a minute," She began, her voice laced with disbelief. "Is that the only reason you asked me to marry you? Because of the baby?"

Vaughn pulled back from her, silent, wounded and aching.

"Michael," Alice continued tenuously, the truth dawning on her slowly, painfully. "Did you want to marry me? Or were you just being noble, stepping up and taking responsibility?"

Vaughn picked up his keys, wallet and cell phone from the dresser top. "A responsibility that turns out not to be mine," His voice was weak as the awful truth tumbled from his lips.

Alice stood up, her eyes narrowed, her face drawn. "Answer me," She demanded firmly. "Did you only marry me because I'm pregnant?"

Without a word, Vaughn gathered his clothing from the bed and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. Before turning to leave her, Vaughn met Alice's eyes, the expression on her face a reflection of the brokenness in his voice.

"I hope you'll be able to sleep tonight. I know I sure as hell won't."

"Hey, Mike," Weiss opened the door of his apartment, his hair disheveled. "C'mon in," He stepped aside, allowing Vaughn to pass, his suits and dress shirts slung over his shoulder, his backpack in his hand.

 
"Sorry if I woke you," Vaughn set the backpack on the floor and hung his good clothes on the coat rack.

"Naw, it's fine," Weiss closed the door, waving a hand to dismiss Vaughn's apology. "I just dozed off watching TV. Not a big deal," He watched as Vaughn crouched down, patted his knees and let out a low whistle.

Exactly on cue, an excited white bulldog lumbered into the living room and headed straight for Vaughn, a grumbling bark signaling his happiness. Vaughn broke into a wide grin as he lavished attention on the dog, vigorously scratching the scruff of his neck and rubbing his velvet soft ears.

"Hey, Donovan," Vaughn greeted his dog, allowing the animal to lick his chin. "How ya doin', boy?"

Weiss sighed, smiling. "So, what's the story, Mikey? I know you didn't come over her to make use of Hotel Weiss just because you miss your dog," He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Vaughn rubbed the dog's belly. "Trouble at Chateau le Vaughn?"

Vaughn's brow furrowed as he gave the dog one last pat before standing to face Weiss. Donovan nosed at his master's legs, begging for more attention. Receiving none, he circled the rug two or three times before finally plopping down, his head on his paws.

Shrugging off his jacket, Vaughn tossed it over the back of the couch and avoided Weiss's eyes as he took a seat, the leather cushions creaking beneath him. Weiss sensed that the trouble was not just of the typical husband-in-the-doghouse variety. He cleared his throat and pointed over his shoulder at the kitchen.

"What can I get you, buddy? A Coke? Maybe a beer?"

"Beer, please," Vaughn answered, nodding. Weiss stood and watched him a moment longer before turning to retrieve the cold beverages.

Vaughn leaned forward in the seat, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging idle. As he stared at the muted TV, a commercial came on for baby formula, or diapers, or some other infant-related product. Without warning, the television blurred before Vaughn's eyes. He pressed his lips together, his face crumpling as he was rendered powerless against the flood that began to overflow his stoic dam.

"All I got is domestic, man. I know you like the imported stuff, but-" Weiss stopped dead in his tracks as he approached the couch, the bottles of beer in his hands. "Hey, Mikey," He quickly set the beers on the coffee table and snapped off the TV before sitting down next to his good friend. "Hey, man, what is it? What's going on?" He placed a hand gently on Vaughn's shaking shoulder, troubled as Vaughn fought against a wave of sobs that wracked his body.

"She lied to me," Vaughn choked out the words, a hand over his eyes as he attempted in vain to stem the flow of tears.

"Who? Alice?" Weiss's brow was knit with concern. He swallowed hard, the raw emotion he witnessed beginning to stir some of his own. He could see Vaughn struggling, fighting hard not to give in to the anguish, the pain that was turning him inside out. "C'mon, Mike," Weiss coaxed quietly. "Just let it out, man."

Vaughn buried his face in his hands, the tears coming hard and fast. He gulped in air, his breathing ragged as he released his emotion in a succession of quiet sobs. When he began to gain control of himself, he sighed deeply, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand until Weiss brought him a box of kleenex. After blowing his nose and taking a sip of his beer, he swallowed hard and found strength enough to tell Weiss the truth.

After he had finished relating the conversation that had taken place only an hour before, Vaughn dabbed at his eyes again as Weiss sat, confounded, speechless.

"Mike, man, I don't know…" Weiss was at a loss. "I can't…"

"I know," Vaughn nodded, understanding completely. "I can't either. I mean – this whole time. For three months she's lied to me. She's known all this time that the baby isn't mine, and she found it easier to let me believe it was."

"You definitely know this? Are you sure it wasn't from before your vacation?"

"No," Vaughn replied firmly. "Before I left, we were fighting on and off for two weeks. We didn't -" He stopped, knowing he didn't need to explain. "And I asked her. I asked her there in our bedroom to tell me that I was wrong. And she didn't say a damn thing." At this, his face collapsed again, and Vaughn gave himself over to a fresh rush of tears, hanging his head, clutching kleenex in his closed fists.

Weiss sank back into the couch cushions, one hand resting lightly on Vaughn's back. He sighed, searching his mind for words of encouragement, anything he could say to make Vaughn feel better. He knew there were no words for that, no pat phrases to alleviate his friend's pain. The situation sucked; trite words of wisdom would only seek to diminish that which was excruciatingly true.

"I'm angry," Vaughn suddenly admitted, his voice broken. "I'm torn, I'm confused, I'm hurt," His voice grew in intensity as the last of his tears drained away. "But I'm mostly angry."

"That's totally understandable, man," Weiss reassured him before taking a drink of his beer. "You have every right to be pissed off."

"I just feel so-" Vaughn shook his head, his lips pursed as he searched for words that were strong enough. "I feel played," He finally decided. "Like a fool, I've been tricked."

 Weiss drew in a deep breath, patting Vaughn's shoulder. "Yeah, Mikey – that's why they call it cheating."

Vaughn exhaled sharply, shaking his head again, his disbelief and shock giving way to his anger, his feelings of injustice. "Yeah, she cheated me," Vaughn said quietly, looking up at Weiss, his green eyes intense with feeling. "She cheated me out of all this time I could have been with Sydney."

"Whoa," Weiss drew back slightly, his hands in the air. "I'm not sure that that name needs to enter this conversation."

"Why not?" Vaughn questioned, grabbing his beer and taking a long drink.

"Careful," Weiss started to reach for the bottle as Vaughn swallowed half of it in one gulp. "You're not gonna get smashed and drunk dial her, are you?"

At that comment, Vaughn couldn't help but chuckle. It felt good to smile, and he sighed, letting the grin slowly fade. "No," He shook his head, setting his beer back on the coffee table. "But can you kinda see my point? Syd's been drifting since she came back, looking for comfort. All I did was hurt her, continuously, with my stupid boundaries and dumb ideas about our relationship. And it was all because of Alice, because I was married, because I believed then that the feelings I had for Sydney were dangerous. And it was all for nothing. Nothing at all."

The room was quiet for a few moments as Weiss silently sipped his own beer, mulling things over, processing Vaughn's words and realizing how much truth was embedded in them.

"I understand," He said finally. "But Mike – you're married to Alice. You made the decision to make her your wife. Tell me there's a reason behind that, besides her being pregnant with a child you believed was yours."

Vaughn was silent, letting his actions speak louder than words as he quietly removed his wedding band and set it on the table next to his beer, the gold ring was lusterless in the shadow of Vaughn's disdain. Staring at it with intense eyes, he sighed heavily.

"Whatever chance we had at surviving this is gone," Vaughn said with deliberate finality. "A month ago, I might've tried to fix it, to work with Alice to make this work. But not now. Any reason I had for doing that vanished when I walked into that safe house in Hong Kong."

"Just go slow," Weiss advised quietly. "With all the broken hearts laying around, it'd be awful easy to mix up the pieces."

"That was beautiful, man," Vaughn turned to his friend, attempting to disguise a smile. "Did you get that from Dr. Phil?"

"A fortune cookie, actually," Weiss nodded just before breaking into a wide grin. The two of them laughed together before Weiss slowly stood up, stretching languidly. "I'll go get a spare blanket and pillow for you. I hope you don't mind the couch."

"No, that's cool," Vaughn sank back into the cushions as Donovan roused from a nap, loping over to this master's side, nudging Vaughn's hand with his snout. Weiss glanced back to see Vaughn contentedly rubbing his dog's ears, scratching his head as Donovan panted happily.

"It's surprising, about Alice," Weiss called over his shoulder as he headed out of the room. "But I guess I wouldn't put it past her. There's something not right about a woman who makes you get rid of your dog."

"Pip! Where are ya, girl?" Will walked slowly through his apartment, squeaking Pip's favorite toy. As he neared the bedroom, he called out again. "Pip! Yo, Pip!"

Will stepped into the bedroom and stopped, dropping his hands to his sides. Sydney sat cross-legged on the bed in her pajamas, her hair still damp from a bath. Next to her, curled up on the bedspread, Pip had her head in Sydney's lap as Sydney gently stroked the dog's ears.

"You have the best dog, Will," Sydney grinned, looking up as Will approached the bed. "She's so loving and loyal."

"Yeah, to you," Will moaned in feigned jealousy. He tossed the squeak toy aside and reached out to pat Pip's back as he sat down on the bed beside them. "I'm glad you two get along so well."

"We're the best of friends," Sydney smiled again, leaning into give the dog a squeeze. The three of them sat quietly for a few moments, both Will and Sydney showering attention upon the lucky pooch. She soaked it in, licking their hands, nosing their thighs if they dared to stop petting her, even for a moment.

"Hey, Will," Sydney spoke up, watching as Pip stood and stretched before jumping off the bed, suddenly leaving the room.

"I guess she got hungry," Will chuckled, watching her go. He turned back to Sydney, smiling. "What?"

"I've been meaning to ask you – how did your meeting go with my dad and Kendall?"

Will's smile faded and he reached up to scratch his head, momentarily avoiding Sydney's eyes. "It was good," He nodded. "I really had nothing to be nervous about."

"See? I told you," Sydney reached out and poked Will's arm. When he failed to duck or retaliate, Sydney drew back, her brow furrowing, her dark eyes searching Will's face. "Will – what is it?"

Will fidgeted, rubbing his hands on his jeans, swallowing hard. "Syd," He said soberly, meeting her eyes. "I'm gonna tell you something, and I have a feeling you're not going to like it."

Sydney shifted uncomfortably, clasping her hands in her lap. Her eyes, serious and dark, urged Will to continue.

"Tonight at dinner," Will began. "You mentioned wanting to start to look for your own apartment. I didn't say anything then, but," He sighed, reaching up to distractedly rub his forehead. "In the meeting with your dad and Kendall, they told me that until Sloane is caught, you have to stay here with me. I've been assigned as sort of your guardian."

"What?" Sydney questioned immediately, her eyes wide. "My guardian? Will, what are you talking about?"

"Maybe guardian isn't the right word," Will fumbled, searching for the right way to explain. "They are concerned about the threat against you. Derevko stressed that Sloane is very likely to come after you. As far as he's concerned, his work with you isn't finished. Kendall and Jack don't want you to be alone, at any time. You're going to have to stay here, and let me sorta serve as your escort."

Sydney watched Will carefully as her mind struggled to accept what she was being told. One of the things she hated was being coddled; the idea that she needed a guardian, regardless of who was assigned to the task, rubbed her the wrong way in more places than she could count.

"Will," Sydney spoke slowly, fighting the urge to express her anger. She knew this was not Will's call; he had not made the decision to make sure she had a babysitter. "How does this even make sense? You're not an agent. You're not field graded. You don't have the tactical skills to protect me or serve in any form of that capacity."

"I'm just the lookout, Syd," Will hurried to clarify. "I'm not the actual enforcer. Kendall and Jack want me to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, anything that might evolve into a threat. And then I report back to them."

"You're reporting to them about me," Sydney couldn't help the small flash of anger that flared in her voice. "When? Every hour? Like, when you tell me you're going to walk Pip, are you actually phoning in a report?"

Will shook his head.  "No, it's not like that," He vehemently insisted. "I only report in if I see something. And then Kendall and your dad… they contact the go-to guys."

"The go-to guys?"

"Yeah," Will got up off the bed and went to the window. Beckoning to Sydney with the wave of his hand, he waited until she was by his side before he drew back the curtain. "That van down there," He pointed. A windowless van was parked at the curb; a logo on the side read 'Al's TV Repair'. "Those are the go-to guys."

Sydney turned away from the window, her face stoic. "FBI," She said dejectedly. Crawling back onto the bed, she avoided looking at Will as she yanked back the covers and climbed underneath, sitting up against the pillows that were propped up on the headboard.

"I'm sorry, Syd," Will stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, his expression troubled. "I wasn't supposed to tell you anything. Your dad knew you'd be resistant."

"I can't live my life in a bubble," Sydney declared, grabbing a book off the bedside table. She opened it, propping it in her lap, pretending to read. She was too bothered to concentrate, however, and instead just sighed heavily. "And I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"No one is debating that," Will assured her. "But Syd – somehow they got you two years ago. It could happen again."

Sydney didn't answer, her eyes glued to a page of the book, unable to recall the plot, her only thoughts on the truths she was struggling to accept about her life. She was a target, more so now than ever before, and even after everything that had happened to her, she still could not have a normal existence or anything close to it.

Will left the room momentarily, returning with a pint of ice cream and two spoons. Sydney didn't object as he kicked off his shoes and crawled up onto the bed next to her. After adjusting the pillows behind himself and settling in beside her, Will held out one of the spoons.

"It's coffee, one of our favorites," He said quietly. "There's only a little bit left. I thought we could finish it off."

Sydney sighed shakily, feeling too close to tears. She smiled weakly and accepted the spoon, setting the book aside. Will opened the ice cream and they both dipped in, quietly taking the first bites. Sydney allowed the ice cream to melt on her tongue, the rich flavor soothing her. As she extended the spoon for a second bite, something suddenly occurred to her, and the words tumbled from her as a much-needed confession.

"That's how I got her," She said, scooping ice cream from the container. "That's how I proved to myself that you were right about Fra-" She paused, correcting herself. "Allison. I offered her a bite of my coffee ice cream, and she took it."

Will, eyes wide, stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Francie doesn't like coffee ice cream."

"That's what she said, before she tried to kill me," Sydney brought her spoon to her mouth and again let the ice cream sit on her tongue, melting to nothing before she went back for another spoonful.

Will swallowed hard after taking his last bite. He let Sydney have the last spoonful and then set the empty container on the bedside table. Taking a deep breath, Will reached for the bottom of his t-shirt and slowly lifted it to reveal a jagged, angry scar across his stomach. Seeing it for the first time, Sydney gasped, her jaw dropping.

"Oh my god, Will," She breathed, reaching out to gingerly touch it, her fingertip brushing against his forever damaged skin.

"When she tried to kill me," Will said, forcing words past the lump in his throat. "She said 'it sucks it turned out this way'." He shook his head. "Sucks for me, maybe – I'm the guy with the knife in my gut."

Sydney tilted her head, giving Will a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Will," She whispered. He lowered his shirt, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, too, Syd," He busied himself with collecting the spoons, turning away from her and placing them beside the empty carton. When he turned back, he was surprised to find that Sydney had pulled up her pajama top, displaying her own scar. Will stared at it, at her, and then made himself look away, hanging his head. "Sydney," He said, his voice barely audible. "When I read that report, what your mother told you – my heart stopped," He finally met her eyes again, his heart aching as he witnessed a single tear roll down her cheek. "How do you do it? How do you manage to deal with all this? To know the things that you know?"

"I don't manage it," She admitted, the tears coming so easily now that she almost didn't notice they were falling. "Not at night, when I'm alone in bed. I don't manage it at all."

"You don't have to do this alone," Will scooted closer to her. "I care about you so much, Syd. You can share anything with me, call me in here in the middle of the night, I don't care. I'm here for you," He reached out to stroke her cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb.

Sydney turned her face to his, seeking comfort, tears rimming her dark eyes. Will leaned in, cradling her face in his palm, tenderly bringing her lips to meet his own. They kissed gently, sweetly, until Sydney finally raised a hand and lightly pushed against Will's chest.

"Will," She whispered when his warm lips left her own. "Will, I can't…"

"Syd, I'm sorry," Will replied, lowering his eyes as he pulled away. "I know, it was wrong. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Will," Sydney cut him off, grabbing hold of his hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "It was nice. It was a nice kiss," She sniffed as fresh tears welled, trailing down her pale cheeks. "I can't right now. I'm not saying never. I do care about you, it's just… it's just…" Unable to continue, she squeezed her eyes shut as a sob escaped her throat.

"Vaughn," Will supplied, the name he spoke filling the intimate space between them.

Sydney nodded, helpless against her emotions. "I don't know how to let it go…" She cried, lifting a hand to her forehead. "…to let him go."

"Oh, Syd," Will sighed, reaching out to softly stroke her hair. She leaned into his hand, comforted by his touch, her tears coming harder as she allowed the sadness to fill her, to overflow the banks of her soul. Will felt utterly helpless, his heart breaking for her. "Is there anything I can do?"

Sydney reached out to him, grasping his sleeve, biting her bottom lip to swallow a sob so she could speak.

"Will, would it be unfair to you if I asked you to hold me?"

Will smiled. "Not at all."

Sydney pushed back the bed covers and rolled onto her side, settling into the pillow as Will laid down next to her, spooning her tightly, wrapping his arms around her. She pressed one of her hands into his, the other clutching her pillow as she cried, her body shaking with emotion that could no longer be denied. Will simply held on, offering comfort well into the night when Sydney drifted into a dreamless sleep, the well of her tears having finally run dry.

******

A/N: To all my reviewers – you all rock. Seriously. The response has been so incredible, and I appreciate it so much.

You know, it's a funny thing – the more reviews I get, the faster I write. Hee hee.