Dinner
_________________________
Sydney was fidgeting in the front seat of Will's car as he drove. She tapped her glossy, cherry-colored fingernails, which had grown long in the three months since she had returned, against the window. She twisted her dark brown tresses around her fingers. She took long, deep breaths in through her nose. Five seconds later she opened her mouth and exhaled. Will had counted. It was exactly five seconds every time.
"Will," she said after 10 minutes of the drive had passed. "I don't think I can -"
"Sydney," he cut her off, "it will be fine."
The silence returned, and so did the fidgeting. She adjusted the straps of her high heels, played with the air conditioner, and continued her breathing exercise. Deep breath in through the nose. Five seconds. Exhale. Repeat.
A few minutes later, they arrived. He parked his car on the street and turned off the engine.
"I'm not ready," she said, shaking her head. "I can't."
He reached over and took her hand. "Syd, you've never said 'I can't' about anything."
"But I'm not ready. How is it going to help anyone for me to go in there right now?"
"You've been home for three months. It's time. You have to see that she's real so that you can you can move past it. Syd, you're ready to meet her."
Sydney took her last deep breath and unbuckled her seatbelt. With her head up high and a smile plastered across her face, she and Will made their way up the stone path to the door of Michael and Michelle Vaughn's home.
*********************************
One week earlier
Looking at Vaughn across the Formica table in the cafeteria, eating his turkey sandwich, Will tried to think of an adjective that could describe Vaughn's not-so-healthy appearance.
Worried? Vaughn was definitely worried, and so was Will. Every time Sydney went on a mission they both worried. Would this be the mission that took her away again? Will always felt as if he didn't take a single breath from the time she left until he received her phone call letting him know she was back in L.A. Will felt no different today. Sydney was in Sweden with Dixon. He was still holding his breath, and without a doubt, so was Vaughn. But it was more than just worry that was plaguing Vaughn. There was something else.
Exhausted? Occasionally Will had nightmares while Sydney was away, or sometimes even when she was sound asleep in the next room. Was Vaughn having similar dreams that kept him awake at night? Could a lack of sleep be responsible for his pallid appearance? It was possible, but once again it seemed to Will that there was something more.
Lonely? Vaughn had a charming, kind, and beautiful wife at home. Surely he wasn't lonely. Then again, how could Will know the state of his friend's marriage now that the love his life had returned from the dead?
Finally, Will settled on distressed: extremely upset, anxious, or unhappy. Distressed definitely summed it up.
After a few minutes of eating in mutual silence, Vaughn spoke up.
"So, I was thinking about inviting you and Sydney to dinner next Friday."
"At your house?" Will replied, somewhat aghast, through a mouthful of his sandwich. Will was taken aback not only by Vaughn's idea, but by the way in which he proposed it. The way he said it, it sounded like Sydney was an old friend who came over every few weeks to have drinks and watch a hockey game with Vaughn and his wife. An old friend she might be, but Sydney had never even met Michelle, much less sat through an entire meal with her.
"Yeah. Is it a bad idea?"
"No, no... it's just... why?"
"I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm keeping this big secret from Sydney. We can't be friends if we both feel like I'm hiding something."
"You're friends already," Will replied.
"No we're not. Not really. Sure were polite and friendly when we're around each other, but..." he trailed off.
"What?" asked Will.
"It's just... before Sydney and I were together... we were friends. We trusted each other. She doesn't even know me anymore."
"And Michelle's okay with this?" As kind and generous as Michelle was, it was hard for Will to imagine anyone in her position being comfortable with Sydney coming over for dinner.
"At first she tried to talk me out of it. I was going to invite you two to come over this weekend, but she kept telling me it was a bad idea. I don't know why she changed her mind, but finally she said it was alright, but it had to be next week."
Will nodded and finished his sandwich.
After a few moments, Vaughn added something. "So do you think you could talk Sydney into coming?"
***************************
Indeed, Will had been able to talk Sydney into coming, but barely. As he stood on the front stoop of the Vaughns' quaint house, he wondered if he had done the right thing.
Since the day Sydney and Will had sneaked into her old apartment and Sydney had proceeded to break down crying on the front lawn, Sydney had been doing remarkably well. That same week she began the tests she would have to pass in order to get back into the field. She underwent several psychological evaluations, and had to prove herself all over again in everything from marksmanship to self defense to her ability to speak fluent Russian. Everyone seemed surprised that she was still as accurate with a gun and that she hadn't forgotten a word of Russian. But Sydney wasn't surprised at all. As she reminded Will time and time again, in her mind, it had only been a matter of days since she had last used these skills.
For two and a half months now she had been going on missions - usually with Dixon, occasionally with both Dixon and Vaughn. For Sydney, the missions seemed to have picked up right where they had left off. The objective of most missions was still to find Sloane or Irina, or at least gain intelligence on their whereabouts. But for Sydney there was added motivation. Wherever Sloane and Irina were, so was a little baby girl she wanted more than anything to hold. Every couple of weeks the CIA received an e-mail which appeared to be from Irina Derevko. Each contained the same thing: a high resolution digital picture of a baby girl and a date underneath the photograph. Sydney stuck each picture on the wall in her bedroom. Once, Will had told her how proud he was of her for handling this situation so well. For not becoming depressed, even though it would have been entirely understandable if she had. She gave him a half-smile and replied, "I guess I just figure that the more miserable I am, the longer it will take me to do my job and to find her."
Even the added stress of weekly regression therapy session with Dr. Kerr hadn't caused Sydney to sink back into depression, although she still hadn't been able to remember anything. Sometimes Will would accompany Sydney when she went to be hypnotized; by this point Sydney had stopped screaming at the flashes of memories in her brain, but she still jerked her head rapidly back and forth, trying to take it all in. After every session, Dr. Kerr would look at her, smile warmly, and say, "I think we're getting close. We just need something to jog your memory. Maybe next time."
Sydney was healthy and as happy as she could be under the circumstances. But as he stood there at the entrance to Vaughn's home, he feared that meeting the woman who had "stolen" Vaughn might be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Had he made the right decision in encouraging Sydney to undergo what would no doubt be a stressful experience?
Before he had time to change his mind, he found himself knocking on the door. Almost instantly, as if he had been standing on the other side waiting, Vaughn opened it.
He had clearly gone through a lot of trouble to make tonight perfect, Will thought, as Vaughn led them into the living room. Candles were burning and the house smelled like freshly baked brownies. Cheese and crackers were on the glass table in the center of the furniture arrangement in the living room. Soft jazz music was playing. Only one thing was missing. Michelle.
"Go ahead and have a seat," Vaughn said, gesturing towards the green couch. "Michelle actually ran out a few minutes ago to get some coffee for after dinner. She should be back any second."
He stopped talking. Awkward pause number one, Will thought to himself.
"Drinks," Vaughn said, clearly relieved the prolonged pause had ended. "I'll go get some wine. Help yourself to the food," he said as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Will sat across from Sydney. She was still fidgeting as she gazed around the room. She said nothing, but Will could tell what she was thinking as she eyed the antique furniture, shiny silver serving platters, the arrangement of picture frames on the mantel.
--This was supposed to be mine--
Suddenly she stood up, and for a moment Will thought she was going to dash out of the house. Instead, she only walked to the mantel to get a better view of the pictures. Will stood next to her.
"That's her?" Sydney whispered, even though she must have known the answer. It was their wedding picture.
Sydney stared at the photo, moving her face much closer to the picture and studying Michelle's face. Suddenly, her mouth dropped open and she gasped quietly.
"What is it, Syd?"
"I - I've seen her before."
Will was confused. "Uhh, I don't think so Syd. You couldn't have - "
"No... no, I know that face. I - "
"Sydney, she didn't even move to L.A. until after you disappeared..."
"Will," Sydney breathed, her voice slightly shaky. She reached out and grabbed the arm of the sofa to support herself. She put her hand on her forehead, her face was squished up into the same expression he had once seen on a woman on an airplane who had a panic attack. Her knuckles were white, her breathing erratic and rapid - the antithesis of her calm, controlled breaths earlier that evening.
As Will watched her, he saw his fears being confirmed. She had seen the picture of the wedding and now she was breaking down. She had progressed so far in the past three months, and suddenly she was as miserable as she had been 24 hours after returning home. But there was one thing different about this break down.
There were no tears.
"Sydney," he said softly as he put his arm around her. Her body was completely rigid. "Sydney, are you ok?" he asked, beginning to worry that this was more than just a run-of-the-mill break down.
She moved her hands so that she had four fingers on each temple. Her eyes were still shut tightly, and it looked as if she were trying to crush her skull between her shiny fingernails.
"Syd!" Vaughn exclaimed as he walked into the room carrying three glasses of wine. He hurriedly placed them on the table, sloshing some onto the glass.
"What's wrong?" Vaughn asked.
"I don't know... she just started tensing up and..." Will didn't know what to do. He had never seen her like this. He was beginning to panic when she started calming down.
Within a minute her breathing was returning to normal and her body was loosening up. When she finally stood up straight again, she ran her fingers through her hair, took a deep breath, and finally opened her eyes.
"Will," she began. "We need to go see Dr. Kerr."
Will looked bewildered as Sydney collected her purse and made her way towards the door. He followed her, still not quite sure what was going on.
He ran ahead of her and blocked the exit. Whatever was going on he wanted to understand it before he let Sydney leave after having what appeared to be a significant break down.
"Will. I need to see Dr. Kerr. Now." She must have sensed he was still confused because she walked closer, looked him straight in the eyes, and said in a very soft voice, almost a whisper, "I can remember now."
_________________________
First of all, I am SO sorry about the delay. I was out of town for a very long time, and then when I got home fanfiction.net wasn't working. Anyway, I apologize.
As usual I thank you profusely for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
_________________________
Sydney was fidgeting in the front seat of Will's car as he drove. She tapped her glossy, cherry-colored fingernails, which had grown long in the three months since she had returned, against the window. She twisted her dark brown tresses around her fingers. She took long, deep breaths in through her nose. Five seconds later she opened her mouth and exhaled. Will had counted. It was exactly five seconds every time.
"Will," she said after 10 minutes of the drive had passed. "I don't think I can -"
"Sydney," he cut her off, "it will be fine."
The silence returned, and so did the fidgeting. She adjusted the straps of her high heels, played with the air conditioner, and continued her breathing exercise. Deep breath in through the nose. Five seconds. Exhale. Repeat.
A few minutes later, they arrived. He parked his car on the street and turned off the engine.
"I'm not ready," she said, shaking her head. "I can't."
He reached over and took her hand. "Syd, you've never said 'I can't' about anything."
"But I'm not ready. How is it going to help anyone for me to go in there right now?"
"You've been home for three months. It's time. You have to see that she's real so that you can you can move past it. Syd, you're ready to meet her."
Sydney took her last deep breath and unbuckled her seatbelt. With her head up high and a smile plastered across her face, she and Will made their way up the stone path to the door of Michael and Michelle Vaughn's home.
*********************************
One week earlier
Looking at Vaughn across the Formica table in the cafeteria, eating his turkey sandwich, Will tried to think of an adjective that could describe Vaughn's not-so-healthy appearance.
Worried? Vaughn was definitely worried, and so was Will. Every time Sydney went on a mission they both worried. Would this be the mission that took her away again? Will always felt as if he didn't take a single breath from the time she left until he received her phone call letting him know she was back in L.A. Will felt no different today. Sydney was in Sweden with Dixon. He was still holding his breath, and without a doubt, so was Vaughn. But it was more than just worry that was plaguing Vaughn. There was something else.
Exhausted? Occasionally Will had nightmares while Sydney was away, or sometimes even when she was sound asleep in the next room. Was Vaughn having similar dreams that kept him awake at night? Could a lack of sleep be responsible for his pallid appearance? It was possible, but once again it seemed to Will that there was something more.
Lonely? Vaughn had a charming, kind, and beautiful wife at home. Surely he wasn't lonely. Then again, how could Will know the state of his friend's marriage now that the love his life had returned from the dead?
Finally, Will settled on distressed: extremely upset, anxious, or unhappy. Distressed definitely summed it up.
After a few minutes of eating in mutual silence, Vaughn spoke up.
"So, I was thinking about inviting you and Sydney to dinner next Friday."
"At your house?" Will replied, somewhat aghast, through a mouthful of his sandwich. Will was taken aback not only by Vaughn's idea, but by the way in which he proposed it. The way he said it, it sounded like Sydney was an old friend who came over every few weeks to have drinks and watch a hockey game with Vaughn and his wife. An old friend she might be, but Sydney had never even met Michelle, much less sat through an entire meal with her.
"Yeah. Is it a bad idea?"
"No, no... it's just... why?"
"I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm keeping this big secret from Sydney. We can't be friends if we both feel like I'm hiding something."
"You're friends already," Will replied.
"No we're not. Not really. Sure were polite and friendly when we're around each other, but..." he trailed off.
"What?" asked Will.
"It's just... before Sydney and I were together... we were friends. We trusted each other. She doesn't even know me anymore."
"And Michelle's okay with this?" As kind and generous as Michelle was, it was hard for Will to imagine anyone in her position being comfortable with Sydney coming over for dinner.
"At first she tried to talk me out of it. I was going to invite you two to come over this weekend, but she kept telling me it was a bad idea. I don't know why she changed her mind, but finally she said it was alright, but it had to be next week."
Will nodded and finished his sandwich.
After a few moments, Vaughn added something. "So do you think you could talk Sydney into coming?"
***************************
Indeed, Will had been able to talk Sydney into coming, but barely. As he stood on the front stoop of the Vaughns' quaint house, he wondered if he had done the right thing.
Since the day Sydney and Will had sneaked into her old apartment and Sydney had proceeded to break down crying on the front lawn, Sydney had been doing remarkably well. That same week she began the tests she would have to pass in order to get back into the field. She underwent several psychological evaluations, and had to prove herself all over again in everything from marksmanship to self defense to her ability to speak fluent Russian. Everyone seemed surprised that she was still as accurate with a gun and that she hadn't forgotten a word of Russian. But Sydney wasn't surprised at all. As she reminded Will time and time again, in her mind, it had only been a matter of days since she had last used these skills.
For two and a half months now she had been going on missions - usually with Dixon, occasionally with both Dixon and Vaughn. For Sydney, the missions seemed to have picked up right where they had left off. The objective of most missions was still to find Sloane or Irina, or at least gain intelligence on their whereabouts. But for Sydney there was added motivation. Wherever Sloane and Irina were, so was a little baby girl she wanted more than anything to hold. Every couple of weeks the CIA received an e-mail which appeared to be from Irina Derevko. Each contained the same thing: a high resolution digital picture of a baby girl and a date underneath the photograph. Sydney stuck each picture on the wall in her bedroom. Once, Will had told her how proud he was of her for handling this situation so well. For not becoming depressed, even though it would have been entirely understandable if she had. She gave him a half-smile and replied, "I guess I just figure that the more miserable I am, the longer it will take me to do my job and to find her."
Even the added stress of weekly regression therapy session with Dr. Kerr hadn't caused Sydney to sink back into depression, although she still hadn't been able to remember anything. Sometimes Will would accompany Sydney when she went to be hypnotized; by this point Sydney had stopped screaming at the flashes of memories in her brain, but she still jerked her head rapidly back and forth, trying to take it all in. After every session, Dr. Kerr would look at her, smile warmly, and say, "I think we're getting close. We just need something to jog your memory. Maybe next time."
Sydney was healthy and as happy as she could be under the circumstances. But as he stood there at the entrance to Vaughn's home, he feared that meeting the woman who had "stolen" Vaughn might be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Had he made the right decision in encouraging Sydney to undergo what would no doubt be a stressful experience?
Before he had time to change his mind, he found himself knocking on the door. Almost instantly, as if he had been standing on the other side waiting, Vaughn opened it.
He had clearly gone through a lot of trouble to make tonight perfect, Will thought, as Vaughn led them into the living room. Candles were burning and the house smelled like freshly baked brownies. Cheese and crackers were on the glass table in the center of the furniture arrangement in the living room. Soft jazz music was playing. Only one thing was missing. Michelle.
"Go ahead and have a seat," Vaughn said, gesturing towards the green couch. "Michelle actually ran out a few minutes ago to get some coffee for after dinner. She should be back any second."
He stopped talking. Awkward pause number one, Will thought to himself.
"Drinks," Vaughn said, clearly relieved the prolonged pause had ended. "I'll go get some wine. Help yourself to the food," he said as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Will sat across from Sydney. She was still fidgeting as she gazed around the room. She said nothing, but Will could tell what she was thinking as she eyed the antique furniture, shiny silver serving platters, the arrangement of picture frames on the mantel.
--This was supposed to be mine--
Suddenly she stood up, and for a moment Will thought she was going to dash out of the house. Instead, she only walked to the mantel to get a better view of the pictures. Will stood next to her.
"That's her?" Sydney whispered, even though she must have known the answer. It was their wedding picture.
Sydney stared at the photo, moving her face much closer to the picture and studying Michelle's face. Suddenly, her mouth dropped open and she gasped quietly.
"What is it, Syd?"
"I - I've seen her before."
Will was confused. "Uhh, I don't think so Syd. You couldn't have - "
"No... no, I know that face. I - "
"Sydney, she didn't even move to L.A. until after you disappeared..."
"Will," Sydney breathed, her voice slightly shaky. She reached out and grabbed the arm of the sofa to support herself. She put her hand on her forehead, her face was squished up into the same expression he had once seen on a woman on an airplane who had a panic attack. Her knuckles were white, her breathing erratic and rapid - the antithesis of her calm, controlled breaths earlier that evening.
As Will watched her, he saw his fears being confirmed. She had seen the picture of the wedding and now she was breaking down. She had progressed so far in the past three months, and suddenly she was as miserable as she had been 24 hours after returning home. But there was one thing different about this break down.
There were no tears.
"Sydney," he said softly as he put his arm around her. Her body was completely rigid. "Sydney, are you ok?" he asked, beginning to worry that this was more than just a run-of-the-mill break down.
She moved her hands so that she had four fingers on each temple. Her eyes were still shut tightly, and it looked as if she were trying to crush her skull between her shiny fingernails.
"Syd!" Vaughn exclaimed as he walked into the room carrying three glasses of wine. He hurriedly placed them on the table, sloshing some onto the glass.
"What's wrong?" Vaughn asked.
"I don't know... she just started tensing up and..." Will didn't know what to do. He had never seen her like this. He was beginning to panic when she started calming down.
Within a minute her breathing was returning to normal and her body was loosening up. When she finally stood up straight again, she ran her fingers through her hair, took a deep breath, and finally opened her eyes.
"Will," she began. "We need to go see Dr. Kerr."
Will looked bewildered as Sydney collected her purse and made her way towards the door. He followed her, still not quite sure what was going on.
He ran ahead of her and blocked the exit. Whatever was going on he wanted to understand it before he let Sydney leave after having what appeared to be a significant break down.
"Will. I need to see Dr. Kerr. Now." She must have sensed he was still confused because she walked closer, looked him straight in the eyes, and said in a very soft voice, almost a whisper, "I can remember now."
_________________________
First of all, I am SO sorry about the delay. I was out of town for a very long time, and then when I got home fanfiction.net wasn't working. Anyway, I apologize.
As usual I thank you profusely for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!