a)ii) Broken Promises

They're happy, for a little while.

They both work at the CIA, him as an analyst, her in the field.

He doesn't like her being out in the field, but she tells him it's where she's best placed, and that's the end of that story.

She's away a lot, constantly taking on more and more dangerous missions. She tells him that it's because she needs to make her name known in the agency, to advance up the chain of command.

He doesn't think it's worth her life. [He never thought she was so ambitious before]

It's two years after Sydney returned, and three years after they married.

They live in a condo near the Joint Task Force headquarters, where they do most of their work these days.

It's an expensive place to live, but the convenience more than makes up for it.

But still, the money never seems to stretch far enough, not really. They survive, but they don't have a lot of money to spend, not on the salaries of two public servants.

But Vaughn's sick of not having enough money, sick of the constant bills and loans and budgeting, and the driving desire he once felt to serve and protect his country is muted now, driven quieter by the paperwork and the brick walls of bureaucracy and the endless tomes of protocol.

He once told her that what they did was real, was important. He's not sure anymore.

So he tells her that he's leaving the CIA, and that he's finally going to put to good use the law degree he completed over ten years before. His new job pays more, and has better hours.

She's happy, a rising star in the Company. He's happy, his new job having better hours and much better pay than his old.

But there's still something missing, isn't there?

Their condo isn't big, but there's a small room near their bedroom which they've always discussed using as a guest room or study but have never gotten around to redecorating.

It'd be an ideal nursery, they both know.

He stands at the doorway of this room sometimes, and wonders what it would be like with his child in it.

She insists that there's no rush to have children, but he feels the tick of time pressing down, the desire to see his children live, grow, thrive while he is still young enough to appreciate it.

He confronts her about it, one day. In hindsight, it is easy to see that she is stressed, tired, worn out from another day defending their nation……but it is easy to see everything in hindsight, isn't it?

He kisses her as she walks in the door.

"Hey, sweetheart. How was work?"

"Not good," she sighs wearily.

"Look, Laur, I know you don't want to talk about this, but really, we have to discuss the issue one day."

"What're you talking about, Mike?" Her tone is almost defensive, he thinks.

"You know what I'm talking about." [Two can play at this game]

"Well, maybe I need you to spell it out for me!" She's angry now, pacing around the room.

"You. Me. Children. Or lack of." He bites out each word, her anger only feeding his.

"Mike, we've discussed this before! It's not the right time in our lives for children!"

"You mean it's not the right time in your life. Not the right time in your career."

"No, it's not," she snaps back at him.

"Well, then, Lauren, tell me this. Is your job more important than your life? Than your marriage? More important than me?"

"My job is important! What would you know about it? You're the one who sold out, aren't you? You gave into the private sector, after all. What would you know about serving your country?"

The minute the words are out of her mouth, she knows she has committed a terrible sin, said the worst words she could possibly have said to this man.

"I wouldn't understand, Lauren? I wouldn't understand? Did you forget how my father died, Lauren?" His words are icy, cold, precise, full of anger.

He grabs a jacket and begins to walk out the door.

"Mike, where are you going?"

"To Eric's. Don't wait up for me." And with a slam of the door, he is gone.

She's in tears even before she hears the sound of his car pull out, realizing exactly what her words might cost her.

It's not the end of their marriage, but it's close enough.

They file for divorce six months later, after thousands of tears, ten major arguments and countless minor ones.

Hers is the first number he rings, and the first words he says to her in nearly four years are the same words he always greeted her with.

"Joey's Pizza?"

* * *
In one universe, she will have waited for him, knowing that her guardian angel would never leave her.

In another she's happily married, a child on the way.

* * *