Thanks for all the reviews so far! Lyrics from "My Immortal" by Evanescence, and "Lover, You Should Have Come Over" by Jeff Buckley.

a)ii)2 – Too Long

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

* * *

"Vaughn? Is that you?" Her words are broken up a little by static on the line, her voice dropping out every few syllables.

He can hear another voice in the background, male, unfamiliar to him. "Syd, who's that?"

"Oh, just an old friend. Don't worry about it. Keep your eyes on the wheel, Andy!"

Just an old friend, he thinks bemusedly to himself. Since when did he become just an old friend to her?

Probably about the same time I chose my wife, no, ex-wife over her, he thinks bitterly.

He has a sinking feeling in his stomach, one that he attributes the same gut instinct that told him that she was a genuine walk-in. This isn't going to end well, he knows already.

"Yeah, Syd, it's me." The reception on his cell has improved, he notes a sense of dubious relief; he takes pleasure in hearing her voice for the first time in too long, but dreads hearing what she is about to say.

"Oh. I- I didn't think that you ever wanted to see me again, to be perfectly honest."

"I-I didn't, for a long while."

"So, what changed?"

"Lauren and I- we're not together anymore."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out, Vaughn. She seemed very nice." Her words sound surprisingly sincere to his ears, and he begins to realise that she's taking no more pleasure in the breakdown of his marriage than she would if Will went through the same experience.

"Yeah, well, sometimes people just have different priorities, I guess."

"Yeah."

There's a short pause on both ends of the lines, as they both pause to see who will speak again. She speaks first, quickly, almost a little hastily.

"So what made you look my number up after so many years, Vaughn?" There's more than a little bitterness in her voice, he observes with more than a little sadness. She was often angry with him during their arguments, sometimes sarcastic – but never bitter. Not really.

"I was just wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me. Just to catch up," he adds hastily.

"No, Vaughn, I don't think I'd like to have dinner with you."

It's not a surprise to him, somehow, to hear these words. And why should it be, after everything that he's put her through, he thinks, the regret he feels pressing down on him, making it hard for him to breathe.

He can hear her speak quickly to the man that must be with her, "Andy, you go on ahead. I won't be very long, I promise."

When she comes back onto the line, her voice is strong, clear, almost angry. "Do you know how long I spent getting over you, Vaughn? Accepting the fact that you were married, that you could never be mine? Do you know what a living nightmare it was to come back from the dead, more or less, and find you married?"

"I'm sorry, Syd. Really. I'm so sorry. For everything."

"I spent two years trying to get over you, Vaughn. I'm not about to let you ruin my life again. Now, if there's nothing else?"

He can tell that she's about to lose it, to either start screaming or start crying, because he feels like that as well. The emotion running throughout him is raw, bitter, overwhelming. It is regret, and grief, and anger and sadness and a sense of coming loneliness all moulded into one little neat package of pain that is spreading throughout his body.

Before it overcomes him, though, he manages to ask one more question.

"Did you ever love me?"

He hears a choked sob on the other end of the line, and can picture the tears running down her cheeks.

"I will always love you. I always have loved you, Vaughn. I just…I can't do this again, Vaughn. You've hurt me too much. I have a- I have a new life now, Vaughn. It's not much, but it's normal and it's mine."

He's trying to hold back tears now, biting down on his lip to try to hold back the flood of salty water that he feels lurking behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Syd. I'm sorry for everything that I've done to you. I-I understand, okay, sweetheart. I love you too- and-and I hope, I hope that you're happy. I hope he makes you happy."

He disconnects quickly, before she has time to respond, and sits in his car, tears rolling down his face.

It's almost worse than knowing that she's dead, he thinks, because then he knew that she was at peace, hopefully, no longer tormented by all the things that made her life more complicated than it should be.

Now he knows is that she's alive – and with someone else, just as he was.

Now he knows that she loved him – that she had always loved him.

Now he knows that four years ago he made the biggest mistake of his life – but only now is he paying for it.

Now he knows what he was too blind to see before, sees what his eyes were closed to before.

Now he knows that what he's done to her is too much for even her to forgive.

Now he knows he will live the rest of his life alone, because he knows now that no one fits him as well as she does, that no one will ever mean as much to him as he does. He's already tried to replace her once, after all, and look at how that turned out, he thinks, tasting bitter regret on his tongue.

She was always stronger than he was, he muses with some sort of twisted pride burning in his heart, but he can't imagine the strength of will it would have taken her to say the things she said, to push him away, still loving him. He's never been able to deny her anything - except the one thing she wanted, he thinks to himself, the hate he feels for himself for making that decision making him sick to his stomach.

He thought he had ended what they on his terms by returning to his wife, but in the end it was Sydney who ended it, wasn't it? She ended it on her own terms by refusing him as he once refused her.

But this time it's final.

This time there will be no second chances, no last minute reprieves. With this one phone call, she has forever stepped out his life – but he knows he'll spend the rest of his life wondering what if and regretting the four years he wasted letting her get away.

This time he's alone.

* * *
Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one