***Hey y'all! Thanks so much for reading my little story, I hope y'all like it so far! A special thanks to those who reviewed!(However I haven't been able to view them yet due to the site's inefficiencies) Thanks so much! I'm doing something different with this fic, every other chapter I think it will alternate from Sydney's then Vaughn's POV, this is my first attempt at this style so let me know if you like it or not. That's all, enjoy!
Sorry for the delay but you probably know that ff.net has been kind of crazy over the weekend and what not, with all the upgrades and such. And it's been storming a lot here lately and it seems that whenever it rains I can never get on the Internet…darn dial-up. Ug. Anyways, that's more than enough from me.
He stirred restlessly in his bed, his body exhausted, his mind alert. He stared up at the ceiling, illuminated only by the brightness of the scarlet numbers on his clock, 2:28 AM. He rolled to his side, arm behind his head, propping himself up to gaze at the sleeping woman next to him. Her even breaths pulsed rhythmically, a strand of blonde hair cascading down her cheek.
He tried to stop his thoughts from wandering where he knew they would inevitably take him. They always did, night after night. And if it was the only thing he learned so far, he knew that habits were hard to break. He loved Alice, he truly did. But their love was more of a mutual care, an affection for each other. Both knew this when entering the marriage, Alice had lost her dad, Vaughn had lost Sydney. They had found each other, it was that simple.
He shut his eyes, willing sleep to overtake his body as he lay down on his back again, returning his gaze to the ceiling. He finally surrendered to his thoughts, letting her to fully penetrate his mind. She had looked so frightened in Hong Kong; it was all he could do not to take her in his arms whisk her away to some faraway place where they could live happily ever after. But the question was after what? Even after being back in L.A for a month, she still could recall nothing. He bit down on his bottom lip, the ever-present feeling of guilt taking over his heart. If only he had walked her to the door, if only he had skipped the debrief, if only he had realized the obvious, if only he could go back.
Vaughn let out a frustrated sigh; every night he played this game. Every night it got him nowhere. He scolded himself and convinced himself that everything was okay now, she was home. If only that were true.
He heard from Will that she wasn't doing so great. She was still unresponsive to everyone, only offering terse answers to their incessant questions. She hadn't responded to regression therapy, and although attending therapy twice a week, she had unofficially resigned from the CIA. Will would visit her apartment often, she'd moved into a new place and had become immaculate. The place was spotless, never anything out of place, she craved order. She had started working out again, and was soon returned to her previous state. Will had come over one night, only to find her passed out from exhaustion next to her treadmill. After placing her in bed he had looked at the treadmill, the timer reading three hours and four minutes.
It had been three weeks since he had last talked to her, the day at the Ops Center. He distinctly remembered the coldness that seemed to invade the cell as he spoke. It would have been so much easier if she had been angry, if she had hated him. But no, she was pleading with him, begging him to stay, and he refused.
He turned on his side again, blankets bunching uncomfortably around him as he switched on a small bedside lamp. It illuminated the room, providing a much needed distraction, and diffusing the insistent stare of the bright clock. His eyes scanned the room resting on the dresser that stood directly in front of him.
"Vaughn, I mean, okay, the backpack is getting a little ridiculous."
"What do you mean?"
"The middle drawer. It's yours."
"Yeah?"
"It's just a drawer."
"I'm just saying it's a great idea."
He quickly averted his eyes from the dresser. Thoughts of her kept plaguing his mind. It had gotten worse ever since she had returned. He turned off the light, better to be in darkness than to suffer in the light. He thought back to their conversation at her cell. He had forced himself to stay strong, to stay neutral. He couldn't let her see that he still cared. It would only hurt her more. Knowing that they couldn't be together was crushing her, but it would only ensure more pain if he told her that he loved her. She'd be angry at herself, it was better that she was angry with him.
Still restless he concentrated on the cadenced heavy breaths of his wife. He matched his own to hers, and was soon lulled into a light slumber.
The shill song of a cell phone jolted him from his sleep. He felt Alice stir as she called out his name sleepily, "Michael..." she started but was too exhausted to finish.
He stole a glance at his clock before standing up and crossing the room, 2:47 AM. He strode over to the desk, where he kept his CIA cell phone, usually where it lay dormant.
"Vaughn." He answered in a husky voice, not fully awake as he rubbed his eyes. He froze midway as heard the words.
After a long silence, Vaughn realized he hadn't responded. He shook his head slightly before speaking, "Okay, I'll be right there." He said quietly, abruptly hanging up the phone, his heart seeming to pound right through his chest, as he forced his body to move, his attention once again solely focused on Sydney Bristow.
TBC…..Please Review! Thanks for reading!
