Everyday Peril
Chapter 11: Things Fall Apart

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Thanks Kiki, MB138, Jaryn, Amy, Whitelighter Enchantress, and Dreamwriter 4 Life. It will get better eventually. How's that? Hopefully you'll be able to stick with it till then... Welcome, valley-girl2! Thanks for reviewing!... One Legged Hooker Jane Barbie: You love me? ;^) That's a nice switch…

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It was nearly two weeks later and everything was back to normal. Or at least that's the way it might have appeared. To the casual observer, nothing had happened between Sydney and Michael Vaughn. They were still the young, almost-too-loving couple that appeared to have never seen more than ten minutes of pain and suffering in their entire seven years of marriage.

But casual observers always miss something. They had never been and will never be spies. Michael noticed everything, all the big things, all the little things, and everything in between.

That Sydney always surrounded herself with the children the moment he walked in the door, so she barely had a spare moment to talk to him before they went to bed. That she wore long sleeves and pants even though it was almost summer. That her hair was always worn down, at first to hide the dark bruises on her face, now to hide the fact that the sparkle was missing from her eyes.

Her spirit had been beaten out of her, strapped side by side with her happiness at the whipping post. He could hear the whistling of the leather strap as it flew threw the air, the crack as it smacked against its victims. He could feel the wind from the quick motion of the whip, and the pain and agony. Her happiness and life lay bruised and bleeding, not able to take much more, but still being relentlessly beaten day after day.

But he did nothing. He had thought he had saved her from it, barely in time. He had thought that she had left her life of terror just before it could have gotten any worse, that the two of them had forged a new life together, full of nothing but glimmering, golden joy. He had obviously been wrong.

All the pain and suffering of her past life that he thought she had forgotten had come screaming back, joining the events of almost two weeks ago and expertly inflicting its torture, knowing exactly what was the worst kind, what would break Sydney until she spent every moment on the verge of tears.

He thought that if he just left everything alone, it would all go back to normal. He didn't know that he still clung to the hope that he and the children would be able to cure her, snap her out of it. For his part, he tried to be home as early as he could everyday. But the office had picked this week of all weeks to become extremely busy, requiring him to get there earlier in the morning and leave later at night. Before, he could have left at almost any time, but he had suddenly seemed to become the one person that the CIA could not function without.

When he was at home, he tried to pretend as if nothing was wrong. Everything was just the same as it had been for the day before, and the day before that, going back for more than seven years. Surely if he thought nothing was wrong, nothing would be.

Hailey unwittingly did her part, simply by being a bundle of cheerful happiness. She had bounded home from preschool after her first day back radiating with bliss and sunshine, proudly holding up her cast and showing her mother and father how it had been decorated.

Michael smiled at the signatures. The careful cursive of the older children (for even the big kids who came on the school bus wanted to sign it, Hailey had pointed out proudly), the wobbly print and backwards letters of those just learning to spell, and the scribbles of the ones who hardly knew which end of the marker to write with.

To say that the little girl had been deeply emotionally scarred by the car accident would be a vast overstatement. Although she still became teary-eyed in the black of night when frightening nightmares found their way into her little head, by day she was the superhero of the daycare and this week's most sought after girl when it was playtime.

But Sydney did not share her daughter's happiness with this newfound fame and attention. While Michael was amusingly admiring the scrawled signatures on the bright pink cast, Sydney looked past them, seeing only the pain and hurt that lingered below. Poor Hailey seemed only to remind her mother of what had happened, of what Sydney had been unable to protect her little girl from.

But there were still two other children. Jonny, too, was his usual exuberant self. And Michael was sure that one of his antics would have caused a smile to grace his mother's face. But even when the little boy walked around for an entire day with a plastic bowl on his head and refused to take it off, Sydney did not laugh.

So it was not up to Jonny, or even his twin. William sat quietly observing everything, a shadow of a child, almost not there at all. And Michael's hopes were quickly dashed, shattered almost before they had come fully into being. For he never let himself think that he had wanted the children to cheer their mother up, never gave in to the fact that anything was wrong at all.

Everything in the Vaughn house was exactly the same as it had been before. There was a mother and a father, and three cheerful children. Absolutely everything was the same, except…

"How come Mommy doesn't smile anymore?"

Hailey had asked him that question just the other day, and he hadn't had an answer for it. So maybe he wasn't the only one who had noticed. Maybe Sydney's distance and depression had been more apparent than he would have liked to think. He had tried to pretend as if nothing had changed. But indeed that's not the way it was.

The moment he had come back to the hospital after dropping Hailey off, Sydney had said she didn't want to talk about it. And they hadn't, not once. But now, he was beginning to wish they had. Because it wasn't only the lack of a smile or the sparkle that had once danced in her eyes. Her face, her eyes, her face, were constantly blank, devoid of all emotion, of anger, fear, sadness. She had not cried once after that single tear had dropped from her eyelashes. She had not shown any emotion at all.

And it was beginning to become startlingly apparent that he couldn't pretend anymore. It had been almost two weeks, but he was just letting himself notice it now. Something was wrong.


Michael walked into the house just twenty minutes before his lunch break was over. He had been hoping to eat with Sydney, but construction in the city had made traffic unbearable and he knew it would take all his time just to say hello to his wife and get back to the office before the afternoon debriefs began.

The house was almost eerily silent. There were no footsteps, no voices from the television, no music, not even the jingling of Donovan's dog tags. Nothing.

At both his and the doctor's bidding, Sydney had taken these last few weeks off from work, and the kids were still sent to daycare for awhile so that she could have some time to relax.

Michael made his way to the bedroom, knowing somehow that he would find Sydney there. "You'll never believe what happened at the meeting this morning, Syd," he began cheerfully as he walked down the hall, determined that soon everything would go back to normal.

For a moment, he let himself think that they were back to the time just after they had gotten married, when everything was so perfect, when there was only the two of them and they were so much in love that they couldn't even see past it to recognize that there had been any pain and suffering in their lives.

"Marshall told Devlin that…" he stopped short, spying his wife the second he walked through the bedroom door. "s***, Sydney."

She started at the sound of her name, whirling around and bringing her arms around to cover her nearly bare chest, looking at once very exposed and vulnerable. She had been searching through her dresser for a shirt, and as hard as it was to believe, this was the first time he had seen her without clothes on since… since it had happened.

But instead of igniting him as it would have before, it made his blood run cold. She had always been thin, but this… The only time he had seen her worse than this was when he had found her right before Hailey's birth. He could see the ribs poking out of her skin, her flushed cheeks suddenly seemed much more hollowed. He should have seen it before, but had been afraid to open his eyes to it.

He was at her side in a minute, but she turned away, not wanting him to see her like this. He tried to put his arms around her, but she slipped out of his grasp, quickly grabbing a sweater and throwing it hastily over her skinny frame, the baggy material hiding what he had just seen. And he wished that just like that, it would all be gone, but finally knew better than to be fooled by wishful thinking.

"Why are you home?" Her voice was quiet and thin, the question softly spoken.

"I-I came home for lunch… to be with you." He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling like a gawky teenager, unsure of what to do. "Come here."

She backed away. She looked frightened, but for the first time, not of a dream or an enemy. She was frightened of him. "No, I-I…"

He lunged forward, lifting her shirt and exposing her ribs once again. It hadn't even been two weeks and already she looked like this. How had he not noticed earlier? If only she had let him touch her, if he had insisted on holding her tightly every time she backed away from him…

"Jesus, Sydney," he whispered, running a finger along her skin, making her gasp and tremble, but he knew it wasn't passion that had caused her reaction. "You have to eat."

"I am eating, Michael. Please…"

He gathered her into his arms, not letting her pull away. She might have blamed herself for what had happened with the car, but he blamed himself for this. He brought her head against his chest, right to the spot where she fit so perfectly, and held her there, rocking her back and forth like a child, finally finding the courage to murmur. "Syd, we have to talk."

She struggled out of his grasp and moved away from him, at once frightened by his words and his tone. Talking would mean confronting the issue, acknowledging that something existed, that something had gone wrong. She didn't want to do that.

"Michael. I'm fine, I swear to you."

It was a lie and he knew it. Her lips spoke the words he wanted to hear, but her eyes were begging for help, telling him that she was anything but fine.

"Please don't be worried about me," she continued, willing her voice to be strong, for her heart to mean the words that were spoken. Somewhere deep inside her, she wanted him to worry, she wanted him to care. She wanted him to take her hand and pull her up from the side of the cliff, bringing her back to comfort and safety.

"Syd," he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. "You're not worrying me, you're scaring the s*** out of me."

She didn't react to his words at all, not moving an inch, barely breathing. He clamped a hand around her wrist, the force of it contrasting with the gentleness with which he led her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table.

"I have to go back to the office for the meetings this afternoon. But I'll get out as soon as they're done, and we'll go out to dinner, just the two of us." If he could just have some time alone to her, if he could just get her to talk. He had tried to at night, knew that whenever he got into bed, no matter how late it was, she wasn't sleeping. But whenever he tried to pull her into his arms, she moved away. Whenever he whispered her name, she closed her eyes tighter.

"I don't know if…"

"We're going, Syd. Please, just do this for me." As he spoke, he opened and shut cabinets until he found a can of soup and a pot, and set to work preparing lunch for his wife.

"But I… I don't want to… to…" Sydney struggled with the words, finally giving up and turning her gaze to the window.

He knew what she was trying to say, what she didn't want to give voice to. "We won't. Not tonight, not if you don't want to. We'll talk about other stuff," he said with a forced smile. "I'll tell you about all the fun I've had at my meetings, and you can tell me what the kids were up to, okay?"

She didn't answer, her eyes still focused on the window and the mystery that was contained outside its glass.

"Syd?" He walked over to her and planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head. At least this time, she didn't shrink away. "Syd, I have to get back to work now. I swear, if I didn't have these meetings…"

"Michael, I'm fine."

He nodded, wishing he could believe her, and walked towards the door, pausing before going out of the house. "Eat the soup. Please?"

"I will."

And as soon as his car went down the driveway, she took the soup from the pot on the stove and poured it down the drain, the angry growling and clashing of the garbage disposal washing it all away. She just wasn't hungry. Not anymore.


Michael raced home the second his meetings were over. Today, he had had a breakthrough. She had let him touch her for almost the first time since it had happened, and he was sure with a little time and love she would be better soon. He had always been able to get her to smile before, and he wasn't about to relinquish that power now.

But the house was empty. The kids not there, the car gone. Donovan was the only one to greet him, swaggering slowly into the kitchen and standing expectantly by his food dish. But if Donovan was expecting to be fed any time soon, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

Michael picked up the phone, dialing the number that had become more than a little familiar to him in the past years.

"Hello?" His friend's voice sounded tired and even a little frantic.

"Eric, is Francie there?"

"Hey, what's this, man?" Eric asked, perking up when he recognized Michael's voice. "So you call looking for her now? I see how it is."

Michael could hear a high-pitched wailing in the background, accompanied by a loud, metallic beat. Little Drew was obviously home, and either thought himself a rock musician or was dying. But he didn't really have the time to figure out which it was, hoping that if his son were indeed dying, Eric would know better than to answer the phone.

"Eric, come on…"

"No, she's not," he said with a sigh. "It's just me and the little tyke. All by ourselves. For the past hour until Mommy gets back from the store. Hey, Mike, what're you supposed to do when the kid…?"

"I was just looking for Syd," he interrupted.

"So now you call my house looking for your wife?"

Michael knew Eric was teasing, but his patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Eric, just…"

"She actually just called here a little while ago," Eric continued. "Wanted to know if Drew and Francie wanted to go to that new playground. But Francie's not here, and I don't do the whole playground thing… Hey, are you all right, man? Is something, did something, you know…"

But Michael missed Eric's momentary lapse into compassion, cutting his friend off with a hasty, "Thanks a lot. Bye" and leaving Eric wondering what the hell had just happened.

Michael was out the door moments later, leaving a still-hungry Donovan to stumble his way back to the patch of sunlight he had recently vacated and wait for someone more attuned to his needs to enter the house so he could beg for food then.

Michael found Sydney sitting next to his sister on one of the park benches. They weren't speaking, and Jacqueline looked extremely uncomfortable, gladly giving up her seat and walking away to where her daughter was pushing Jonny on the swings.

He didn't say anything as he sat down next to her, surveying the cheerful, noisy scene before him that was the playground. William was playing quietly in a nearby sandbox, and he caught a glimpse of Hailey as she ran by in close pursuit of Seth.

She was the first to speak, which surprised him. He was still thinking of what to say.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I… I was just driving by and saw your car," he lied. He didn't want to anger her, didn't want her to know how frantic he had been when he had walked in the house and she hadn't been there.

She nodded, but he felt as if she saw right through him. "I promised the kids we'd go to the playground today," she mumbled. "I forgot to call you."

He turned to face her, catching her eye for a moment before she quickly broke from his gaze. "You didn't eat the soup."

"How'd you know that?" she asked quickly.

"I didn't," he said softly. "But you just told me." He hated having to do this to her. It just felt so wrong. "Syd…"

"Mommy!" Hailey was before them in an instant, her impeccably bad timing without fail. "Hi Daddy!" she shouted excitedly, climbing into his lap. "Tell Seth that even if I have a pink cast, and I'm a girl, and I'm not seven years old, I can still go down the slide!" she whined.

As if on cue, Seth appeared. "Whatever she said it's not true!"

"Is too! You said that there was special rules for the slide and I couldn't go on, and that…"

Seth flushed, knowing that he had been caught. "Th-the rules changed now!" he stammered, crossing his arms.

"Really?" Hailey asked excitedly, immediately forgiving.

"Yeah," Seth grumbled, digging his toe in the gravel. "Everybody can go on the slide… Except for little tiny babies!" he added, brightening.

"And efelants," Hailey chirped, too excited to notice or care that she hadn't said the right word, and jumping quickly from her father's lap. "'Cause they won't fit!"

"And fish, 'cause there's no water!"

The two of them ran off, with cries of "And lions! And snakes! And monsters!" echoing after them. Apparently, as long as someone or something was not allowed on the slide, Seth was content, and as long as she could go on the slide, Hailey was too.

Michael watched the little girl run away, the child that he and Sydney had created, that their life would not have been the same without. "Syd, I know that…"

"Please, Michael, I don't want to talk about it." She was begging him now. She had finally turned to face him, her face emotionless, but her eyes haunted.

"Syd, we have to."

"Not yet. Not now."

"We should have a long time ago. We should have never let it get like this. I should have never let it get like this."

She blinked and dropped her eyes from his, unable to hold his gaze for too long. He remembered when he used to wake up and find her gazing into his eyes, telling him that she had been watching him sleep for hours. Now, she could barely hold him in her sight for a few seconds.

"Syd…" He brought a gentle hand to her shoulder, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms. His skin was screaming for her touch, and he thought he could hear hers answering back. But she was strong; she silenced it, immediately putting her armor on once again, the armor that protected her from anything, but worst of all, that blocked her off from him.

"William!" she cried, suddenly standing up and making her way to the sandbox. "Don't put the sand in your mouth!"

The little boy looked up, startled. He hadn't had the sand anywhere near his mouth, but had been calmly piling it before him in a crude sort of castle, his own silent fortress.

Michael jumped up after his wife did, only the two children that he nearly stumbled over, keeping him from catching up to her and the "Dammit, Sydney!" from springing from his lips.

Sydney scooped the little boy up and William didn't protest, quickly finding comfort in his mother's arms and not minding one bit that his playtime had been interrupted. She brought him back to the bench and sat with him on her lap, facing her. Michael sat back down next to his wife, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, but far enough away so as not to frighten her away with his touch.

"Syd, please," he whispered, bringing a tender hand up to brush her hair back behind her ear.

She closed her eyes, and he knew she was wishing for all of it to go away, him included. An instant later, her eyes snapped open. A tiny hand was patting her stomach, a small voice calling her name. "Mommy?"

Sydney and Michael focused all their attention on their son, everything else, all the noise of the playground simply melting away. His voice was sweet and refreshing, like the smell of freshly cut grass on a summer's day. But just as you are enjoying its scent, you remember that you're allergic, and the moment is lost in a fit of uncontrollable sneezing. For William's words, though innocent and never meant to cause harm, startled and stung.

Michael saw his wife put a hand over her mouth, fighting back the tears and the pain. She wasn't supposed to acknowledge that it existed, she wasn't supposed to show it, but it was there, the little boy's words drawing it out from its hiding place among the shadows.

"Where's the baby?"