Remembrance
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Yet another Jennfic~ Enjoy… I like this one.
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"You look at me as if you know me. Do I know you?"
His voice is clear today, as strong and sure as his steady gaze which seems to be made even more prominent in contrast to the bland white sheets.
The cycle starts again.
She gulps a little, smiling while also steeling herself against the tears that are already threatening to fall. She manages to blink them back and almost reaches for his hand before she remembers that to him, she is only a stranger once more.
So Sydney Bristow pulls away her hand, a movement that does not escape his notice and causes a furrowing of his brow in a moment's confusion and frustration, knowing the feeling of loss suddenly, and instead nods at him, promising herself that she will be strong.
"Yes you do. I'm Sydney."
He wants to know her. He sees her looking at him with that softness about her and the way that she, for some reason, seems to glow and all he wants to do is take her in his arms and murmur her name over and over into her neck. He feels somewhere inside of him that this is something he has done before, something she likes him to do.
But you don't do that kind of thing with strangers.
Even strangers you used to know.
So he nods, opens his mouth to speak. "I'm Michael."
She nods and now he's sure he knows her even if only in some parallel universe. On an impulse his finger twitches to the table beside his bed and, for a reason he doesn't know and can't begin to define or even explain, he merely watches his hands as if they are a separate being as they open the middle drawer.
A book comes out and even though he can't quite recall its contents or in what context it was given to him, his fingers remember the texture and the pages are worn in just the right places.
He opens up the soft cover made of papyrus and hand bound with love. On the first page is an inscription in flowing cursive though he can still detect old stains made from tears.
Michael,
So that everything can be seen and experienced with new perspective; So that nothing will ever grow old; So that the memories will never disappear; So that we will never disappear.
With all my love,
Sydney
He looks up and sees her watching him, nodding at the question in his eyes. She hesitates slightly before scooting her chair closer to his bedside and bends over his shoulder, looking at the same pictures he looks at every day, though he does not remember this. Does not realize this. What she doesn't realize is that her hair has tumbled over her shoulders and is now lightly resting on his arm, the one thing he is painfully aware of at the moment.
He returns his attention to the page as she turns it with her delicate fingers but watches the different emotions that cover her face with his peripheral vision as she looks at the memories that he wishes he still had.
The first page is information, as if the book was designed specifically to be a reminder for those who don't remember. There's a picture of her, a small wallet-sized black and white where her hair is pulled back into a strict pony tail and her face is unsmiling.
SYDNEY BRISTOW
Age: 27
Birthday: April 12, 1974
Goal: To become Mrs. Michael Vaughn and to save the world one roundhouse kick at a time.
Under it is another picture, one full of vibrant colors that are only matched by the vibrancy of the smile that fully covers her face. She is wearing a simple sundress and her arms are lifted , reaching for someone though there the picture is ripped in half and the second identity is unknown.
And one of him, the same serious expression on his face. Wearing a suit. His writing underneath.
MICHAEL C. VAUGHN
Age: 32
Birthday: November 27, 1969
Goal: To one day be worthy and deserving of Sydney Bristow one successful counter mission and sleepless night at a time.
The second half of the picture. Her long fingers across his eyes, blindfolding him as he laughs, teeth showing brilliantly.
He doesn't know what to say, how he's supposed to feel. This woman, this beautiful woman, might be his fiancée. His wife. A sudden flash grips him.
Her breaths are soft against his neck, wonderfully warm and sweet, brushing over his collarbone in smooth, light tickles while her fingers entangle themselves in his hair. The sheets are wrapped around them but he slips an arm around her waist to bring her closer to him. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss though it is impossible to maintain because all he feels is explosion and the eruption of sound and color that accompanies the shock of having her by his side. Loving him.
He shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious of how long he has been staring at her, face flushing ridiculously at the memory of his skin against hers… he doesn't even remember her father's name.
She sees the look in his eyes and bites her lip. It is truly starting again. She doesn't know whether to be elated or crushed.
It only hurts so much more when she has to lose all of him again.
"What's wrong with him?"
"It's rather interesting actually Ms. Bristow because you see, this is a strain of the disease that I personally have never seen before."
"Don't waste my time telling me about how interesting his disease is, Dr. Marcus. I want to know what's wrong with him and how long it will take for him to remember again."
The doctor brings his hands together, face molding into an expression of sympathy.
"Have you heard of Alzheimer's?"
The thrill of fear that runs through her system explodes out of her in denial. "Of course I have but Vaughn's not old enough to have that, he's only 33. There has to be something wrong with your diagnosis."
The doctor doesn't know how to take this. "It's a strain that I have rarely seen-"
"No. You're wrong. If he's got what you say he has, then why the hell does he remember things at the end of the day? And why does he forget again in the morning?" Her voice is taking on a pleading tone, insistent in her need for not only answers but answers that are satisfactory to her. Answers that involve the words 'quick' and 'recovery'.
"That's what is so strange about his condition. Most people who have Alzheimer's get steadily worse. Mr. Vaughn however gets better and remembers more and more as the day goes on but as soon as he falls asleep, something affects perhaps the memory portion of his brain and when he wakes up he is in the exact condition as he was before."
Her jaw clenches as her breath stops. "So you're saying that there's no cure."
"I'm saying that there is no permanent cure. If you were to spend the entire day with him, by the end of an eight or ten hour stretch, it would be like being with the old Michael again. For a few hours."
"Did you just remember something?" Her voice is hardly able to contain some of its emotion when she asks this question. It is the start of her life though in the end it destroys her and she wakes up alone and crying in the middle of the night.
"Yes."
Judging from his flushed face, she decides that it would be better not to ask him about this.
But she can't help wondering.
"Did you remember something about me?"
"Yes."
She sees it now, the inward struggle of his face, the way that he has somehow lost some of his ability to hide his emotions, the way that fighting emotions are taking over his face. He feels helpless now. Doesn't understand why everyone else remembers things when he has no past. Trying to decide if it will be worth it to forget his pride and ask a strange woman for answers.
"Can you – Can you help me figure some things out?" His voice has been transformed into one of a little boy but she finds this, as she always finds this, rather endearing.
"Of course I will." She knew he would ask. He always did in the end.
He turns to the next page and sees picture after picture of the two alone, the two with other people, always smiling, always holding hands or at least touching one way or another. And even if they are in a crowd, he can see them as if they are separate because they have a look that no one else seems to share.
He's staring but he can't figure it out. Why they seem so different from everyone else in the pictures. It's as if they are the only ones that truly love each other because they have been in a situation where they have to know the other completely…
"Sydney, do you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you." Her voice is tinged with a little pause as if she knows that she's not going to like the next words out of his mouth.
"We're going to have to jump."
Almost without hesitation, she nodded.
"Jump?" The word was nearly inaudible but she heard it and turned to him curiously.
"Did you remember something else?" They were coming quick today.
He looked up at her, face steeled, determined to learn everything he could. At the moment, he felt as if that was the only way her could survive. By knowing everything.
"What do we do?"
"What?" This is the first time he has ever asked so outright.
"How did we meet? What did we do together that made us so familiar to one another and why did we have to jump?"
There's a pause.
"Let's take a walk."
TBC…
Hmm… I'm still not sure if this is worth doing more of but I will if you want me to so let me know… I'm thinking that this fic will cover the course of a day and a night and might have a little smut later on if that's the path that the fic leads me down.
Yes, I did get a little of this inspiration from Nicholas Spark's The Notebook. It didn't start out like that but now it's really similar and if that offends you, I apologize.
Send me feedback~
-Jenn
Next chapter of AUS coming out soon…sorry about the long wait but check out my other updates Mornings of Mist and A Lesson in Humility. R/R!