Everyday Peril
Chapter 12: All of Her Twists


If Michael had turned to face her a moment later, he would have missed the shock and hurt that crossed Sydney's face. Just as soon as it had sprung up, it washed away, replaced with the blank expression he had grown accustomed to seeing these past two weeks.

She deposited William on his father's lap and stood up. The little boy frowned as his mother let go of him, but didn't try to hang onto her as another child might have.

"I…I have to go," Sydney stammered, almost tripping over a little girl as she backed away. "You'll take the children, right, Michael?"

"Syd, wait…"

But she was already walking away, not even waiting for his answer, leaving him on the park bench with his youngest child in his arms. Neither father nor son noticed the curious glances of the other adults in the park (most of them young mothers, wondering what the hell this man had done). Michael's eyes were glued on Sydney's retreating form, and William's never left his father.

"Daddy?"

He hadn't even thought to explain it to the twins, assuming that they had barely understood the pregnancy in the first place. But Michael was starting to second-guess that decision. Jonny might not have had a clue, but William seemed determined. This was probably the most words that Michael had heard him utter at one time.

The little boy was watching him expectantly. He looked confused, and Michael wasn't sure if it was possible for a child his age to even begin to comprehend what was going on. But William was full of surprises today.

"The baby?" he pressed, unwilling to let his father get off so easily.

"Um…" Michael cleared his throat, trying to buy some time. He had thought that explaining this to a four-year-old had been bad enough, but what about a child who barely has enough words in his vocabulary to speak complete sentences?

"The baby went bye-bye," he tried.

"All gone?" William asked, his deep eyes serious and understanding.

"Yeah, buddy," Michael nodded. "All gone."

The little boy didn't respond with words, which is what Michael had come to expect from him; he had spoken enough for the day and retreated back into his world of silence. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his daddy's chest, his little hands barely reaching Michael's back.

Without a word, Michael kissed his son and picked him up. The two of them gathered up Hailey and Jonny, and after a few quiet words with his sister, Michael packed his children into the car and hurried home.

Miraculously, Hailey didn't ask why they had to leave so soon, or where her mother had gone. But maybe that was because the second he turned the car on, Michael had popped in a Kids' Songs CD and turned the volume up as loud as he deemed he could without damaging anyone's hearing.

When they got home, he sat the kids in the living room, turning on the Disney Channel and putting Hailey in charge of her two younger brothers. Apparently, some very intriguing cartoon was on, saving him once again from his daughter's curiosity.

The bedroom had become Sydney's retreat, and he wasn't surprised to find her there, looking out the window. She didn't acknowledge his presence, but he could tell that she knew he was there.

"You can't be mad at William, Syd," he began, taking a few steps towards her. "He's not even two years old."

He was right behind her now, would be touching her if he leaned forward. He could see both of their reflections in the glass of the window, but she was looking beyond it at something else, something he couldn't see.

"I told him," he whispered. "About the baby. He wanted to understand." He suppressed the urge to touch her, to comfort her. This had to be done first. "And he does understand, now… It's all gone, Syd."

"Stop it."

Her words were so soft, so low, that it took him a moment to understand them, to realize that they were actually words at all.

"It's the truth, Syd. And you need to understand it, too."

"Stop it, Michael." She whirled to face him this time, not realizing how close he actually was to her and accidentally smacking him and immediately jumping back, as if he had been on fire.

"Syd, we need to talk about it."

How many times had he said that to her? How many times would he continue to say it and still get the same answer?

"No." There was nothing wrong, nothing wrong, nothing wrong… If only she could…

He reached out and snagged her wrist, stopping her from darting out of the room and away from him.

"Yes." He felt like a child responding to her like that, like they were two recess enemies fighting over who was going to get the good jump rope. "And you're not leaving until we do."

"There's nothing to talk about. Everything's fine."

He saw her blank expressionless eyes, pictured her ribs protruding from her skin. How could she not see it? But then again, he had gone for weeks not letting himself see it, hadn't wanted to. And he knew how stubborn his wife could be…

"Syd, have you seen yourself? Everything's far from fine." His grip on her became gentler, and he stepped towards her. "Just let me…"

"Stop it." Her voice was harsh, almost poisoning him with its sticky venom, but inside… Help me, help me, help me… "I mean it."

Why was it so easy to lie to him now? She had fought with herself for years, hating having to withhold the truth from her friends. And now, the one man who knew everything about her had suddenly become the one man she didn't want to know anything at all…

He shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry."

She gazed up at him, emotions suddenly bombarding her face, and he couldn't tell if her expression was hurt or angry. "Why don't you trust me anymore?" Please, Vaughn, please…

Her words threw him, and he let go of her arm. She hadn't lost any of her speed or agility over the years, and didn't waste a moment scrambling away from him. But he had had those years to study her, grow close to her; and despite his shock, he was ready, springing quickly forward and blocking her path.

"Ow! Dammit, Michael!" Why do you have to get in the way? Why do you have to care? Why won't you give in?

"Syd, I wasn't kidding when I said I…"

"You wouldn't understand."

And that hurt more than anything. More than any other word she had ever spoken to him, than anyone had ever spoken to him. More than a million knives thrusting their blades into his skin, twisting and turning so there wasn't an inch of him that they missed.

And he exploded, the love still there, but all the patience and tenderness gone the moment those words left her lips.

"s***, Sydney! It was my child, too!"

The French came easily, naturally; and thank God for that, because he had forgotten all about the three little pairs of ears listening from the next room, their TV show no longer as captivating as it had been just moments before.

The anger had found her as well, tightening its flaming grip around her words and actions. She matched him in force, language, and tone. "Then why won't you leave me alone?! Let me make my peace with it my own way!"

"Because you're not, Sydney! God, you're not, and you're forgetting about everything else." He hated yelling at her; he hated it more than anything. But he couldn't stop himself; the words wouldn't leave his mouth at a softer tone. "What about the kids? This isn't fair to them."

"I'm here for the kids, Michael. They know that."

She picked them up from daycare. She made their supper and read them books. She tucked them in at night. She made a point to be with them, so that she wouldn't have to be with him, so that she wouldn't have to talk to him, so that she wouldn't have to acknowledge that anything was wrong.

"They know you're here, but they also know that it's not you. You didn't see William's face when you left the park, or hear Hailey ask why you don't smile anymore, or…"

"That's not fair, Michael." Oh God, she was hurting them, her little babies. She was supposed to protect them, but…

"No, Sydney, it's not. It's not fair to them."

She didn't have a response for this; locking her eyes with his and refusing to look away. He was almost relieved to see the anger stirring within her. At least it was an emotion; she was feeling something, and that had to be a step in the right direction. But as good as he thought any emotion was, he had never seen anger in her like this, not directed at him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you earlier," he murmured, his tone immediately softening as he realized the harshness of his earlier words. He knew that she would never want to hurt the children, would never try to, would never do it on purpose. "I didn't want to see it, Sydney. But you need help to…"

She didn't hear him finish his sentence. She had been starting to listen; the burning ice that had built itself up around her was beginning to melt, letting her true emotions known, at least to herself. She wasn't so frozen anymore, wasn't so numb…

But Sydney Bristow had hated to need help, and, not surprisingly, that had not changed with her last name. She might not have remembered this on her own, but her smoldering anger and burning pride had not let her forget, quickly forcing the words out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them.

"I don't need help." Her voice was clean, crisp, and dangerously slow, contrasting severely with the sudden, warring emotions inside her. Pride forced her to speak the words, but wouldn't let any emotion besides anger show through.

"Sydney, don't do this."

"Leave me alone."

She shook herself from his grasp and he unwillingly let her go, not wanting to hurt her. She stormed across the room, a hurricane of confusion and anger. And he would have let her go at that moment, would have completely relinquished control. If he had not seen her falter halfway across the room and slow down, pausing a moment and clutching at the doorway.

"Syd?"

The sudden torrent of feelings had created a cyclone inside her, confusing everything in her mind, turning it all upside down, even the objects in the room. But it wasn't like she had never felt this way before, like she had never been dizzy, like her head had never hurt. She could handle it. Just like she could handle everything else. Just like…

Her grip on control may have been slippery, but it was strong and determined. And to be in control, she had to let the numbness take over. If she let her feelings show through, she would surely lose it, becoming nothing more than a muddy puddle on the side of the road.

She shook her head in an effort to clear her mind of everything: the thoughts, the feelings, the dizziness. But came nowhere near to succeeding. Her emotions continued to weave in and out of each other, overjoyed that they had finally broken through and clinging to what little power they had. The dizziness only slightly receded at the sound of her husband's voice repeating her name. And for a moment she almost forgot that if she didn't push him away, she would lose it, she would be giving in. But only for a moment.

"Syd?"

"I'm fine!" she snapped, harsher than she had meant to. Anger was having its way with her, bending her to its will like metal to a flame. She was trapped inside fury's puppet, could smell the freshly painted wood encasing her, see its flaming fingers moving her strings. But there was no way to escape. Whenever she struggled against it, it pulled at her tighter, until…

He was by her side in a moment, ignoring her tone. She could feel the anger move her strings, forcing her to look away from him, not to make eye contact. The numbness had joined it, returning quickly, its damp, frigid breath making her blood run cold.

"Why don't you come lie down?" He stood in the doorway so that she couldn't leave, putting a hand on her shoulder. Everything was forgotten the moment she had started to sway, everything except his concern for her.

"Get out of the way, Michael." Please, please, please, please…

"Syd…"

If she listened to him for one more second, if she spent one more moment standing there so close to his arms, she would have caved. She would have given in to the fear and the confusion and most of all the gut-wrenching sadness, and flung herself at him, never leaving his arms again.

That's why she had to get out now. She didn't know where the words came from, didn't recognize it as her voice that spoke them. But there they were. Apparently, with the help of the numbness, anger was able to completely take over her voice, knowing exactly which words would sting her husband, her friend, her lover, the most.

"You know as well as I do that I can make you get out of my way."

And that's all it took. His head flooding with the memories, the moments he wished had never ended springing from the ones that never should have happened…

And I'd never hit you either, Mike. You know that, right?… You're amazing… You have no idea how much I missed doing that… You want to have quick sex, in the laundry room, when th… Stay with me…please… I love you, Michael Vaughn…

He stepped aside, hoping that his quick surrender would make her give up as well.

But she ran, fleeing from him, the anger, the numbness, the pain. Out of the room and out of the house, never looking back. He watched her retreat, and this time there were no playground children to keep him from shouting after her.

"Dammit, Sydney!"

He followed her to the door, only to have it slammed in his face. He was about to open it, to follow her outside, to get in his car and drive after her, to the ends of the earth. And remembering just in time that he couldn't.

"Uh oh."

Because reason number one had just opened his little mouth and uttered that simple phrase without really understanding what was going on, only knowing that his mother and father had been shouting, and…

Reason number two's bottom lip was trembling. No words were spoken, but none were needed. He had seen his mother run from the house, run like she was running from something big and scary, but…

Reason number three gazed up at him sadly, understanding more than her brothers, recognizing the shouted language as the French her parents used when they didn't want her to hear. And it didn't sound like it was being used as the language of love this time.

"You didn't say I love you." That was the one French phrase that she understood, and she had been listening carefully for it during the shouting, hoping beyond hope that all this would turn into something good.

"No," Michael answered. There was no use hiding the truth or lying. There was no use telling the little girl that they had found other ways to say 'I love you,' or that she just had not heard them. "I'm sorry we were so loud."

He had learned to expect the unexpected when it came to questions from his daughter, but sometimes she still managed to catch him by surprise.

"Are you and Mommy going to stop being married?"

Never ever. Not on her life, his, or anyone else's. Not if everything in the world was drawing them apart. They both knew too well what it was like to be forced apart and never wanted to have to live that way again. She had been his for over seven years, and as selfish as it sounded, there was no way in hell he was going to let her go. Ever.

But there was no way to voice that to a small child. Three small children, for he realized that after what had happened at the park, he couldn't dismiss his two little boys as not understanding anything that was said. There was no need for the three of them to know how serious this was, so…

"After one little fight?" Michael asked, trying to write off what had just happened and offering his children a small smile.

Hailey hopped off the couch and ran over to her father. He knelt down to be at eyelevel with her, mentally preparing himself for anything that she said.

"Then how come you never ever kiss anymore?" she asked, clearly concerned about this fact. She had been accustomed to seeing her parents display their affection, that to see them not kiss was something strange and new.

"We kiss sometimes," he responded. It wasn't completely a lie; Sydney had allowed him to kiss the top of her head earlier that day.

"Not like you used to."

He didn't need the little girl to tell him that. His lips had been burning for Sydney's touch for days, but she had always pushed him away. Not counting certain times, the ones that were left mostly forgotten (but not completely; there was always something that would remind them, and you can never completely let go of something like that), he couldn't remember ever having gone so long without kissing her. She was always right there, but just out of his reach.

"Mommy's still kind of sad, Hailey."

His daughter gave him a small, sad smile. "Like she always wants to cry but can't."

And that was exactly it. He could find no other way to describe it, but a four-year-old had put words to it perfectly. Whoever said children should be seen and not heard should have been shot. They would have missed all the little things in life, all the wisdom that children have to offer; they sometimes see things more clearly than adults do.

"Amy from school said that her parents fighted a lot and never ever kissed, and then they stopped being married."

Suddenly he saw the world from his daughter's eyes, and realized how scary it would be to think that your parents didn't love each other anymore, that they were going to get divorced. But this only gave him something else to feel guilty for, something else that he thought he could have prevented if he hadn't tried to block out the truth.

"Hailey, your mother and I would never stop being married," he assured her. "I promise you that."

"There are lots of kids at school that's mommies and daddies aren't married anymore," she stated, eyes wide. "How do you know that you and Mommy will be together forever?"

"Because I love your Mommy too much to ever let her go." And that was the complete and total truth, without the sugar coating or the cream filling. It didn't need it; it was perfect just the way it was.

Her worry melted away with her father's answer. He was so serious, so sure. And he had never failed her before. She smiled at him, a real, spitting image of Sydney, bright eyed, and dimpled smile.

"Then how come you're still standing here?" she asked, leaning forward and hugging him. "In the movies, if the princess runs away and the prince really really loves her, he turns into a knight in shining armor and gets on his horse and goes to get her." She pulled away and regarded him seriously. "You just have to pretend that your car is a horse, okay?"

He was able to offer her a real smile this time. And it wasn't until they had all gotten into Bullseye (the kids had just watched Toy Story 2 in daycare, and Hailey insisted they all call the car that), that he realized it probably wasn't going to be that easy.