- Title: Remembering What Was
- Author: A. Jinnie McManus
- Email: jinnie@sbjdesigns.com
- Rating: PG
- Archiving: Ask first.
- Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Telling, based on a scene from The Two.
- Summary: Dixon and Vaughn mourn together in the remains of Sydney's home. Dixon introspection.
- Disclaimer: Not mine. No infringement is intended.
- 'Ship: S/V, D/D
The last time I was at Sydney's home, it was Halloween. Diane was there, and my kids, and she opened the door looking younger than all of them.
That's just the person she is. One moment, she'll busily beat down anyone that stands in her way, and the next… she's all dimples. Like the most innocent of little girls on a bright summer day, hair done in pigtails and dress white and immaculately pressed.
Was, not is. Was.
She promised my daughter she'd show her how to braid her hair. She promised me – not in words but in inspiration – that she'd rise above this life. That she'd do what none of us could; recapture a normal existence.
Forever innocent, forever formidable. Forever Sydney.
She was so young when we met. I walked into a room and there she was. My new partner. I at first thought she was an intern, there to show me to my real one.
I'm not a babysitter, sir! She'll get us both killed!
She won't, Marcus. Just watch. She's extraordinary.
And Arvin Sloane, for one of the only times in his life, had been right. She is.
Was, not is. Was.
I was there for her first mission assignment. I was there for her first kill. [Congratulations and condolences, Syd.] I was there for every promotion, every success, every failure. I was there when she needed a friend, a mentor, a partner, a father.
But I was not there when she needed me most. I was not there when she…
When she died.
The house is dark and dreary. Investigators from every branch of law enforcement mill around, looking for evidence.
And remains.
I turn a corner, careful not to disturb anything. And then I stop short.
Michael Vaughn sits alone in a corner of what was once a room. Everyone else is hard at work, but he looks as though his limbs simply stopped supporting him and sent him crashing to the ground. He bows his head, face crumpled.
He is broken now, and not caring who sees it.
I know that feeling well. I have felt it myself. Diane…
When she died and I lost control, Sydney's boyfriend, the very man that had ordered her to lie to me, had been there. His reporting of my self-medication forced me to face myself, forced me to realize that I was throwing away the precious parts of life I had left. The precious parts of life where Diane would always live on. My kids. Our kids.
So I join him, sinking down against a blackened wall. For a moment we just sit there. Remembering.
"We were going to get away," he whispers into the silence, voice sounding as though he'd lit a fire on his throat. "We were going to get away…"
And then he stops, eyes fixed on nothing. Only then do I remember how young he is.
Was, not is. Was.
He looks down the length of his shirt, body heaving from sobs he's allowed himself to cry… and those on the way.
"I'm done," he says quietly. "I'm done."
I hesitate. Titles sound so formal…
"Michael…"
He looks up and I realize that he is seeing me for the first time, that he hadn't even noticed when I had joined him.
"I never even told her I loved her," he murmurs. "I never told her…" he trails off.
"I didn't either," I say. I loved her as my own, and I never said a word.
She had stood by me when I had been but a shadow of myself. She had given me hope. My heart hardens, so abruptly that I catch my breath. My hope died with her.
He meets my gaze then, startled realization in his green eyes.
"We didn't deserve her," he says simply.
"No one ever would," I reply. No one ever will.
And then we fall silent.
Remembering.
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