Everyday Peril
Chapter 14: The Chocolate War



She had never cried like this before. He would have known, would have remembered, could probably use only his ten fingers to count the times he had seen her in tears. But not one of those fingers would have stood for a time like this. Her sobs were not just for their lost child, although that was a big part of it; they were for the pain she had caused everyone, the pain she felt They were for everything, all those times she didn't cry, all the times she should have.

She had broken, and he realized it was what she had needed all along. He had let her keep herself from the very thing she needed. Like a broken bone that needed to break again before mending the right way, Sydney had to fall apart before she got better, before things went back to the way they were before.

But it was still starting to scare him. Michael had never seen tears like this in anyone. Ever. Because no one he had ever known had felt such guilt and grief. He held her tightly in his arms, knowing that if he let go, she would have gone tumbling to the ground, both in mind and body.

After a few moments, Sydney struggled out of his arms. Instinct told him to let her go, even though he didn't want to take his arms from around her. Her tears were choking her, gagging her, sickening her; and she leaned over the railing, her body heaving. But her stomach was empty, her body's efforts fruitless. Michael never lost contact with her, had an arm around her waist to hold her up while his other hand rubbed her back.

Slowly, her sobs began to subside. She had run out of tears, crying more in that one moment than he had ever seen her cry in all the years he had known her. She took a deep, shaking breath, body trembling as if the air had to fight its way into her lungs. Her breathing still uneven but the tears no long blinding her completely, she finally turned to meet his gaze.

Her eyes pained him, red and swollen, of course, but so teeming with emotion, with anger and sadness and guilt and fear. So filled with sorrow that it seemed as if it had transformed into something tangible and made up her tears, as if it was what had overflowed and wracked her body with such violent sobs.

"M-M-Michael…" Her voice was so soft that he could barely tell when that one word trailed off, almost didn't notice that it wasn't followed by any others.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay." He cradled her face with his hands, bringing his thumbs up to brush across her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to rid them of the sorrow still puddled there.

She fell into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. Despite the warm temperature outside and her long sweater, she was shivering. Perhaps the cold she felt was physical, or maybe it was left over from the chill that had so recently given up its invasion of her soul. He hugged her back, rubbing his arms against her to warm her, hoping it would help whether she was shivering from the cold outside or within.

"No, Michael. It's not okay," she finally mumbled into his shirt, her lips vibrating against the fabric that was already damp with her tears.

"But it will be." It had to be. It would because he would make sure it did, would give anything to have things back the way they were before.

She took her arms from around him and pressed them between her body and his, pushing harder against him, wanting and needing to be as close to him as possible. It seemed an eternity since she had been in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Michael." For everything…

"I know," he murmured, understanding now that she needed to apologize, learning the hard way that it wasn't always best to try to hide from the bitter truth, to cover it with candy-coated sprinkles and pretend it was as sweet as ice cream and not as disgusting as Aunt Trish's meatloaf. Because the meatloaf is still there, and although the sprinkles detract from its ugliness, the taste remains. And there is no way candy can make that better. If anything, the sugar only contrasts with the vile dish so vividly that it makes it ten times worse.

Neither of them said a word for a few minutes, both content to have the other back. Michael never loosened the hold he had on his wife, was surprised that she hadn't complained of lack of air. But she merely rested her head against him, her fingers moving restlessly against his chest.

"We lost our baby, Michael," Sydney finally whispered, breaking the silence. "I lost our baby."

"No, Sydney. Don't," Michael commanded, gently but firmly. She seemed convinced that she was the cause of this, of all of it. And while both of them knew that she had unintentionally prolonged their sorrow and suffering, she had not been the cause of everything. No one was or ever could be. "It is not your fault."

"But I…"

"Syd, that could have happened to anyone, anywhere. There's no way in hell you or I or anyone else could have stopped it. Just like there's no way to prevent Jonny from hitting his head on the coffee table, or Hailey from getting the flu. Those things happen everyday. There's no way to stop them."

He wished there was. That he could somehow prevent his family from ever being scraped or bruised, from ever shedding a single tear, or even seeing a rainy day. But there was no way to prevent or even prepare for the perils of everyday life. They happened without warning and were over before you even had a chance to blink, leaving you to somehow clean up the mess, whether it was with a simple Band-Aid or two weeks of grief.

"But you and the kids," Sydney began. "I wasn't there to help Hailey through the most traumatic experience of her life, or to answer William's simple question, and…"

She hadn't been there at all for any of them, but even that wasn't the worst of it, not in her mind. Because although the children noticed that their mother didn't smile, she was always there to hug them before they left for daycare and to kiss them goodnight. But…

"…I was awful to you, Michael. There's no way I could ever apologize enough to any of you."

"We're not asking for that, Syd. The kids just want you to be there for them now. The twins hardly know what's going on as it is, and Hailey will forget all about it as soon as her cast comes off."

They were young; wouldn't even remember come this time next year. Surrounded by so much love and happiness, what few sad times they did have seemed nothing more than a bad dream. Hailey could tell him everything that had happened two Christmases ago, but the visit to the emergency room that resulted from her then newfound walnut allergy was nothing more than a blur.

"But what about you?"

She didn't seem to understand what it meant to him to be with her, what it had always meant just to give her a quick peck on the lips. All she could think of was the pain she had served to him, the hateful things she had said, the way she had treated him…

"Syd, I'm just glad to have you safe in my arms right now. I don't need anything else."

She understood then how he felt. Because his heart was beating with hers, mirroring her love for him. Because she could never be held close enough to him, could never get enough kisses from his lips, could never tire of being in his arms. Because she loved him.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and for a moment he was afraid she would cry again.

"Don't ever say that, Syd." He couldn't even think of any other woman he would rather be with, and thanks to the way she talked in her sleep, he knew that he was the only man she dreamed about at night. "We deserve each other. I would be nothing without you." He paused, tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I love you, Sydney."

"I love you, too," she murmured.

Although her voice was quiet, her response was immediate, automatic, without hesitation or a second thought. His heart sang at that, the feeling nearly painful. It was as if it had let out such a sweet, strong note that it had simply burst, filling him with warmth. He would have pulled her tighter against him, but realized that was impossible, so he kissed the top of her head.

Everything was almost better. Not quite happy; that would come later, when the last of the pain had finally left, when the shock of sudden, strong emotion had left her and she was ready to feel again. But there was one thing left, one thing that had to be said.

"Syd?"

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes without uttering a word. But he had her attention, and that was enough. He had her, and that was all he needed.

"We can always try again," he murmured.

"Yeah?"

Her one-word response may have seemed uncaring or less than enthusiastic, there may not have been a smile on her face. But her eyes spoke volumes. A glint of hope, happiness, and love was all he needed to know that it was indeed going to be all right, that he didn't have to try to convince himself of something that was never going to happen, that his Sydney was hidden beneath the guilt and sorrow, would fight her way out of the pain and into the bliss that was their usual life.

"Yeah," he answered, smiling down at her as she laid her head against him once again. "If you want to, and when we're ready. Otherwise, we have three beautiful children at home already. And I'll always have you. I'll be happy either way."

She didn't respond to that at first, and he almost thought he had lost her again. But she finally did speak, not the words he would have wanted to hear, but the ones she needed to say yet again, probably felt she could never say enough.

"I really am sorry, Michael." Thank you, I'm sorry, I love you more than life itself…

"I know, baby. I know."

And that was that. A half an hour of tears and quiet conversation had taken care of it, could have smoothed it over much earlier, would have prevented her from wasting away and given them both back the last two weeks.

He didn't know how long they both stood there, wrapped in each other's arms. It was pure, enraptured heaven, and if he could have found a way to bottle that moment, he would have without a second thought. Not to market and sell it to the masses, not to profit from its surefire success, but to hoard for his very own. To keep it in a damp, darkened cellar and let it sweeten with age, only bringing it out on a most deserving occasion.

Sydney was finally relaxed, seemed almost to be falling asleep in his arms. And he would have stayed that way with her forever if he hadn't realized that the sun was beginning to set and his children would probably be corrupted beyond repair if they stayed at Eric's much longer.

"Syd, baby?" he whispered, deciding that if she was asleep, he would pick her up and carry her to the car, instead of waking her.

"Hmm?"

"We should go get the kids."

He felt her nod as she broke away from him, reaching into her pocket for her keys. But Michael plucked them gently from her fingers the moment she took them out. He didn't care that she had only had the car for a little over a week or that by the pier was probably not the best place to leave it. She was in no condition to drive, and after just getting her back, he didn't plan on letting her out of his sight.

"We can get it tomorrow," he shrugged to answer to her questioning glance.

"Okay."

She didn't fight him as she probably would have two weeks ago. I can drive my car, Michael. There's no reason to leave it here. We'll come back tomorrow and it'll be gone… As annoying as it was at times, that seemingly death-defying stubborn streak was a part of her. It would still take some time before she would come back to him completely, but it would happen. Everything would go back to normal, back to happiness. He was sure of it.



"Daddy!!" Hailey squealed, pouncing on him the second he walked through Eric's door. As before, no one had answered his knock, so he let himself in.

"Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun with Uncle Eric?"

The little girl nodded vigorously, pulling on his hand until he was kneeling at her eyelevel. "We watched A Turn of the Jet Eye…"

"Jedi! Return of the Jedi!" Eric called, rounding the corner. "Hey, Mike."

"… Only the end, 'cause it was on TV. And there was a robot and teddybears and a princess, but she didn't wear a pretty dress or a crown," Hailey chattered. "Where's Mommy?"

"In the car," Michael answered, giving his daughter a hug and a smile before standing. He had made Sydney stay in there while he went in to get the kids, promising to be back quickly. She didn't argue against that either, probably hadn't really wanted to go in, in the first place.

"So, did you…?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, everything's gonna be okay."

Eric grinned, deciding it was safe to take this conversation one step further. "Good, because when I see you at work tomorrow, you better not have that look on your face."

"What look?" Hailey asked innocently, her curiosity never failing.

Michael scowled at his friend. He would have thought that having a child of his own would have made Eric more careful of what he said, but that definitely did not appear to be the case. He was just as bad now as he had been before, and there was no doubt about it that poor little Drew was going to know much more about certain subjects by the time he was six than the Vaughn children would know when they were thirteen.

"Uh, that look," Eric answered, laughing nervously and gesturing to the frown that had yet to leave Michael's face.

Hailey frowned, examining her father. "Daddy never looks mad like that at home."

"That's because he…"

Michael's glare this time could have sent even the bravest man running from the room screaming. But his friend had seen it more than once before.

"… has you three beautiful children." Eric finished after a quick pause, smiling with satisfaction.

"That's right," Michael responded, shaking his head at his friend and sighing.

"And your pretty mommy," Eric continued, eyes dancing as he maneuvered himself well out of Michael's reach.

Drew and Jonny chose that moment to come barreling down the hallway, and Eric grabbed Jonny as he passed. William was following much slower, and parked himself by his father's feet without any prodding.

"Francie didn't come back yet?" Michael asked, although he was already sure of the answer. A quick glance around the house confirmed it just as easily.

"No, she called about half an hour ago. Ran into one of her old friends at the mall and went out to dinner with her."

"So, I bet you're hungry," Michael said to his kids, getting ready to usher them out the door.

"Actually, I fed them."

Was it really Eric speaking? Eric Weiss. The very same man who had a special knack for burning Ramen Noodles back when they had first met? It had to be that Eric, simply because with the exception of himself, there were no other adult males in the house. It took Michael a moment to answer, even to buy time with a simple question.

"What?" He still couldn't believe this statement. How on earth could his friend have fed four children without killing any of them or sending the house up in flames?

"Yeah. Macaroni and cheese," Eric stated, grinning proudly.

"'Roni! 'Roni! 'Roni!" Jonny cheered, jumping up and down.

"I'm still hungry," Hailey whined.

"You can take some home," Eric suggested to Michael. "I figured, four kids, four boxes, and then threw in a couple extra just in case. But I guess your kids don't eat that much, because there's a lot left over."

Hailey yanked on her father's arm to get his attention, shaking her head vigorously. "It had orange powdery stuff in it," she explained. "And the macaronis was crunchy." Her eyes were pleading; he could almost hear the little voice inside her head: Please don't take it, Daddy. Say no. Please…

"Jonny liked it," Eric stated, a little too defensively, considering he was arguing with a four-year-old.

"He eats Donovan's food all the time," Hailey shrugged.

And Michael wanted to laugh. His friend had been most assuredly beaten, and he decided to interject before things got ugly. "Thanks for watching them, Eric. I owe you one."

"You owe me more than that, man. You have three kids. This one," he said, pointing to William, "I'll take anytime. I forgot he was here a couple times. But the other two…"

"Tomorrow, Eric," Michael interrupted before anyone could get their feelings hurt. "We have to go… Take your brother's hand," he said to Hailey, and she obeyed and grabbed Jonny as he scooped up William. "Thanks again."

He led his children out the door. Sydney had gotten out of the car to help him get the kids buckled in, and she waved to Eric.

"Hey, Syd!" he called, and then, evidently still hurt about the whole macaroni and cheese incident but wanting to make it right (most likely to prevent Hailey from telling everyone she knew how bad of a cook her Uncle Eric was). "Oh, wait, Hailey. I have something for you. Come here."

Hailey looked up at her father, and Michael nodded for her to go ahead. He quickly grabbed Jonny's hand as she let it go and scampered back towards the house. Michael and Sydney silently buckled the twins in and both ended up on the passenger's side of the car, waiting for Hailey to return.

Eric's front door opened and Hailey bounded out, slamming it shut. "Daddy! Look what Uncle Eric gave me!"

"What's that, sweetheart?" He asked, giving Sydney a wry smile. Previous experience had awarded him with the knowledge that that statement usually did not precede something good.

"There's no nuts in them and he let me try some back in the house," she cried happily, waving something in the air so energetically that he couldn't tell what it was. "They're good. Uncle Eric says they melt in your mouth and not in your hands," she added, forcing something into his palm. "How come we never have them at home?"

Michael didn't need to look down to know what he held in his hand. But he did anyway. A rainbow of colors, but all he saw was the red. Red everywhere. On the floor, dripping up the stairs, and now on the sidewalk, too. Always red.

"Uh oh," Hailey murmured, holding up her color-stained hand for her parents to survey. "I think he was wrong. M&M's do melt in your hands."

It was funny how his distaste for, almost fear of, the color never transferred over to anything else. Sydney had looked stunning in the crimson dress she had worn to the office Christmas party last year; he didn't mind the boys' red overalls or Hailey's doll with the flaming red hair. It was only the candy, only this candy. It was probably childish and definitely strange, but there it was. There was no way to change it.

"They're yummy," Hailey said, nodding avidly. "Try 'em."

Michael didn't move. It was Sydney who lifted Hailey into her car seat and buckled her in. "I don't think Daddy likes those," she murmured before shutting the door. Hailey nodded gravely, as if sorry that her father was missing out.

Of course they had never tried to explain it to the kids, probably never would. Sydney still didn't knew exactly why Michael was so adverse to the red ones, only the red ones. But she could guess. And she would probably be right.

Michael was still frozen next to her, staring at the candies in his hand. And although Sydney had just as much, if not more, reason to hate the red ones as he did, without a word, she plucked them from his hand.

One, two, three, four. That's all it took and the red was gone. She dropped them to the ground as if they burned her, taking a deep breath as they clinked against the asphalt of the driveway.

The absence of red melted him, and making sure Hailey couldn't see, Michael quickly overturned his hand and released the rest of the candy. He didn't think he could stomach any of the colors tonight.

He glanced up and met Sydney's eyes, wanting to take her face in his hands and pull it to him, longing to kiss her until he couldn't breathe, suddenly missing the feel of her lips against his own more than anything in the world. But he wasn't sure if she could handle that right now, feared doing anything that would shatter her beyond repair.

So he settled for a tender kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. He would have whispered his thanks, but knew she wouldn't accept it. The silence between them went unbroken as he quickly took her hand and squeezed it before getting back into the car and driving his family, his entire family, home.

~~~

Better?

Oh, and the M&M bit if anyone is confused… The short story is that the red ones remind Vaughn of blood. Sorry. This wasn't meant to follow the other ones as closely as it did…

But don't worry. One chapter left. The end is in sight (and already written, as Becky can attest to)…