At All Costs
By RocknVaughn (1/1)
Season 3, post-Repercussions
Rated: G
This takes place directly after the final scene. Vaughn POV.
~ ~ ~
She was there; I felt her.
I can't explain how I knew, but I did. Lauren was touching my face, kissing me, and I was completely aware of her, of our love. And then, there was a prickling at the back of my neck, and I knew. Sydney.
I did not break my embrace with my wife, but a part of me wanted, no, needed to make eye contact with Sydney. But by the time the kiss was over and I glanced at the window, she was gone. Or maybe I had seen just a trace of her brown hair bounce out of sight as I turned?
God, Vaughn.you need to get a grip. I told myself with a sigh. She wasn't really there. You are still shaky over the hallucination you had.that's all.
"I'm going to go and let you rest, sweetheart," Lauren was saying to me sweetly, and I forced myself to smile in return.
"Okay," I say softly as she trails tender kisses across my forehead. I close my eyes wearily; my visitors tired me more than I wanted to admit.
The door to my room whispers shut behind Lauren as she leaves. I think back again to that moment.when I thought I'd felt Sydney there. It felt so.so real.so like the countless times in the past when that same feeling encompassed me in her presence.
I open my eyes again, not focusing on anything in particular, letting my eyes roam as my mind continues to churn in its uncertainty.
And that's when I see it. Sydney's coat.
It was still draped along the back of the couch, partially obscured by the bag Weiss had concealed the beer in. There is no doubt in my mind now. She was there. And she saw us.
My heart contracts with pain. She saw us. she saw Lauren and I kissing and that's why she left without collecting what she came for.
A wave of guilt washes over me and I feel a sharp pain in my chest, although higher than my real wound. This one was in the vicinity of my heart.
A sudden thought pops into my head. What does it say if I feel guilty about what Sydney saw when Lauren is my wife? You'd think I'd feel more guilty about dreaming about Sydney while my wife waited at my bedside.and I do feel guilty about that, but not anywhere near the magnitude of guilt that I feel now.
I never wanted to hurt Sydney.never in my life did I think I'd be the one constant source of pain for her, when all I ever wanted to do was take her pain away.
She believes she hides her pain well enough when I'm around for me not to notice. I don't dissuade her of that belief, mostly because I want to allow her that pride. But I notice. I always notice.
And that's what my dream was about, I realize suddenly. My subconscious was trying to drive the point home (no pun intended) that I'm hurting her. I'm constantly hurting her.
Why? Because I betrayed her; I betrayed us. It doesn't matter that she was dead and I was half-dead with grief. I still betrayed her and the incredible love we shared. No.share.in the present tense. That's what the rest of the dream was not so subtly telling me. That incredible once-in-a- lifetime connection still exists between her and I. Didn't I just prove that, knowing she was there whilst kissing my wife?
Lauren. I shake my head sadly. She's such a lovely woman: so good and kind, and so obviously worried for me. Yet, when I opened my eyes after my hallucination about Sydney and saw her sitting there? Nothing. I felt nothing. I had so completely expected to see Sydney, that seeing Lauren there temporarily stupefied my brain. The only thing that came to mind was, What is she doing here?
I look down at my left hand, at the plain gold band that suddenly feels three sizes too tight. Or maybe that's just the lump in my throat that I'm feeling; I don't know. Whatever it is, I'm feeling constrained.restricted.
Impatiently, I yank the offending circle off and place it on the bedside table, staring at the ghostly strip of skin it reveals. It's all right, I tell myself; I'm getting used to ghosts.
I close my eyes, imagining once again the moment in my dream when my lips touched Sydney's. That's how it should feel when I kiss someone, and with Lauren.it doesn't. Her kisses touch my heart, my love swells for her.but they do not invade my soul, take possession of all my senses the way Sydney's did.
The question that echoed inside my head could no longer be denied: What am I doing here? Not in the hospital.but in my life.
Sydney risked everything to save my life in Spain: her cover, the mission.her sanity. Because I knew, instinctively I knew how hard that was for her.having to stab me. It was all in her eyes, laid bare for me to see. Knowing she had to hurt me.it was killing her to do it. I tried to give her strength; I tried to let her see I understood, that I knew what she was doing.and why. I don't know if she saw it, but somehow she found the strength to do what she must...and that was the sole reason I was still on this earth. She knew what she had to do, and, whatever the cost, she did it.
And now I know what I must do. I need to stop the pain, the pain I keep causing her. I need to stop it at all costs. She was, and always has been, willing to give up everything for me. Now.it's my turn to do what I must, no matter the cost. I need to prove that I'm still her ally; more than she knows; more than I knew before this moment.
It'll take time, effort, and a lot of sacrifice, I know. But now that I am aware, consciously aware of what I'm doing to Sydney, I know that I have no choice. I cannot allow one more hurt, one more pain to her that I am the cause of.
She risked everything to save me.I owe her nothing less.
I owe her a lot more.
By RocknVaughn (1/1)
Season 3, post-Repercussions
Rated: G
This takes place directly after the final scene. Vaughn POV.
~ ~ ~
She was there; I felt her.
I can't explain how I knew, but I did. Lauren was touching my face, kissing me, and I was completely aware of her, of our love. And then, there was a prickling at the back of my neck, and I knew. Sydney.
I did not break my embrace with my wife, but a part of me wanted, no, needed to make eye contact with Sydney. But by the time the kiss was over and I glanced at the window, she was gone. Or maybe I had seen just a trace of her brown hair bounce out of sight as I turned?
God, Vaughn.you need to get a grip. I told myself with a sigh. She wasn't really there. You are still shaky over the hallucination you had.that's all.
"I'm going to go and let you rest, sweetheart," Lauren was saying to me sweetly, and I forced myself to smile in return.
"Okay," I say softly as she trails tender kisses across my forehead. I close my eyes wearily; my visitors tired me more than I wanted to admit.
The door to my room whispers shut behind Lauren as she leaves. I think back again to that moment.when I thought I'd felt Sydney there. It felt so.so real.so like the countless times in the past when that same feeling encompassed me in her presence.
I open my eyes again, not focusing on anything in particular, letting my eyes roam as my mind continues to churn in its uncertainty.
And that's when I see it. Sydney's coat.
It was still draped along the back of the couch, partially obscured by the bag Weiss had concealed the beer in. There is no doubt in my mind now. She was there. And she saw us.
My heart contracts with pain. She saw us. she saw Lauren and I kissing and that's why she left without collecting what she came for.
A wave of guilt washes over me and I feel a sharp pain in my chest, although higher than my real wound. This one was in the vicinity of my heart.
A sudden thought pops into my head. What does it say if I feel guilty about what Sydney saw when Lauren is my wife? You'd think I'd feel more guilty about dreaming about Sydney while my wife waited at my bedside.and I do feel guilty about that, but not anywhere near the magnitude of guilt that I feel now.
I never wanted to hurt Sydney.never in my life did I think I'd be the one constant source of pain for her, when all I ever wanted to do was take her pain away.
She believes she hides her pain well enough when I'm around for me not to notice. I don't dissuade her of that belief, mostly because I want to allow her that pride. But I notice. I always notice.
And that's what my dream was about, I realize suddenly. My subconscious was trying to drive the point home (no pun intended) that I'm hurting her. I'm constantly hurting her.
Why? Because I betrayed her; I betrayed us. It doesn't matter that she was dead and I was half-dead with grief. I still betrayed her and the incredible love we shared. No.share.in the present tense. That's what the rest of the dream was not so subtly telling me. That incredible once-in-a- lifetime connection still exists between her and I. Didn't I just prove that, knowing she was there whilst kissing my wife?
Lauren. I shake my head sadly. She's such a lovely woman: so good and kind, and so obviously worried for me. Yet, when I opened my eyes after my hallucination about Sydney and saw her sitting there? Nothing. I felt nothing. I had so completely expected to see Sydney, that seeing Lauren there temporarily stupefied my brain. The only thing that came to mind was, What is she doing here?
I look down at my left hand, at the plain gold band that suddenly feels three sizes too tight. Or maybe that's just the lump in my throat that I'm feeling; I don't know. Whatever it is, I'm feeling constrained.restricted.
Impatiently, I yank the offending circle off and place it on the bedside table, staring at the ghostly strip of skin it reveals. It's all right, I tell myself; I'm getting used to ghosts.
I close my eyes, imagining once again the moment in my dream when my lips touched Sydney's. That's how it should feel when I kiss someone, and with Lauren.it doesn't. Her kisses touch my heart, my love swells for her.but they do not invade my soul, take possession of all my senses the way Sydney's did.
The question that echoed inside my head could no longer be denied: What am I doing here? Not in the hospital.but in my life.
Sydney risked everything to save my life in Spain: her cover, the mission.her sanity. Because I knew, instinctively I knew how hard that was for her.having to stab me. It was all in her eyes, laid bare for me to see. Knowing she had to hurt me.it was killing her to do it. I tried to give her strength; I tried to let her see I understood, that I knew what she was doing.and why. I don't know if she saw it, but somehow she found the strength to do what she must...and that was the sole reason I was still on this earth. She knew what she had to do, and, whatever the cost, she did it.
And now I know what I must do. I need to stop the pain, the pain I keep causing her. I need to stop it at all costs. She was, and always has been, willing to give up everything for me. Now.it's my turn to do what I must, no matter the cost. I need to prove that I'm still her ally; more than she knows; more than I knew before this moment.
It'll take time, effort, and a lot of sacrifice, I know. But now that I am aware, consciously aware of what I'm doing to Sydney, I know that I have no choice. I cannot allow one more hurt, one more pain to her that I am the cause of.
She risked everything to save me.I owe her nothing less.
I owe her a lot more.