A/N: I guess I'll be posting a chapter everyday… or I guess I can withhold chapters until I get reviews… but I don't think I want to be that mean ;)
Thank you to valley-girl2 and PsychoLioness13 for reviewing!
thank you to susan~ grammar queen! and angelbleu~ for checking the flow!
A few bad words in this one….
Chapter 2
November 15, 2004
Los Angeles, California
8:16 am
If only I had eaten more. If only I hadn't let my tears fall so much. If only I had gone to his funeral. If only I hadn't drunk so much beer, wine, hard liquor. If only I hadn't started smoking. If only I took care of myself. If only I hadn't taken so many suicide missions that never ended with the desired result. If only he had lived. If only I had died with him. If only we didn't go to Spain. If only we didn't decide to pursue our relationship. If only we'd never met. If only I'd never decided to join the CIA. If only…
Goddamn it.
Goddamn it all to hell. These ridiculous "if onlys" will never blot out the fact. They never will.
I want it back. I want it back, right here in me! I want it f***ing back in me!
If only… if only I had done those if onlys. Then maybe, maybe I wouldn't have killed it. It was meant as a gift. A gift I couldn't keep alive. A gift that I murdered, just as its father was murdered.
I want my baby back in me. My one last reminder of Vaughn. Of Michael. Now I don't even have it. Would it have been a girl or boy? Green eyes or brown eyes? Blondish brown hair or chocolate hair? A love for hockey or literature?
But I will never know.
Why can't I die? I've killed my family. Something won't let me die. But I want to. Je veux. I want. It's my desire. Je desire. I desire. It's my wish. Je souhaite. I wish. There is nothing left to live for.
Sydney lay in bed, staring out the small window, tears staining the pillow. The hospital bed was stiff, rough on her skin. She didn't want the IV connected to the inside of her wrist. She'd already tried pulling it out. The room was a blazing white, blinding the eyes. A sure sign of sterility. But all she wanted was poison.
To hell with that thought. I am poison!
The baby had not been able to survive. She had had a miscarriage. She hadn't known she was pregnant. She hadn't. The doctors had told her that she had been four months along. Four f***ing months and she hadn't known.
It had her last mission. She had been kicked in the stomach. Hard. Hard enough to kill the baby. If it had not been dead already. It had been a mission, not exactly a suicide mission though. She was the one that made it a suicide mission.
Her father had told Kendall that she would be able to do it. He said that she would be able to pick up and go. Just like after Danny died.
But not this time. Not with Vaughn. She was too far in love. And she still was. She couldn't pick up and go. She just couldn't. She hadn't even been able to go visit his grave; she hadn't gone to his funeral. She had just wanted to die on that mission. Completely fade away. A one way trip to the plot next to Vaughn's grave.
But she hadn't. Instead, the baby had to pay with its life.
She rocked on the edge of her sanity. Just one more of anything could potentially push her over. She was a tightrope walker losing her balance.
She looked out the window ninety percent of the time. Just viewing the scenery. Letting her mind drift towards suicidal thoughts. Knife, gun, pills, water. Water… water always led to thoughts of Vaughn--Always Vaughn, never Michael-- behind the metal door with the small circular window in Taipei. Gun…guns led to thoughts of Vaughn on the ground in the small Spanish hotel room. Always graceful. In the face of death and in death, he was always graceful.
Graceful…
The word always led back to the ring. The gorgeous white gold ring that he had not been able to give her, had not presented to her, had not placed on her finger. It had never been put on her finger. She had not even dared. She didn't feel worthy. And so the ring was looped on a fine chain around her neck. No one knew about it, except for Anna, but she was dead now. However, she did suspect that Weiss knew that Vaughn was going to propose to her in Spain. He never mentioned it, but there was always that encompassing feeling that he knew. Those two were the closest of friends, so he probably did know, her mind kept screaming at her. Otherwise, it was the most treasured secret she held.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Weiss' thunderous entrance. He hit the door with a loud "thud," which led to several attempts at opening the door handle. Then the sound of several fallen objects could be heard.
Is he drunk?
"Weiss, what are you doing here?" she said by way of greeting. She was too tired to care about anything anymore. No, he isn't drunk… He doesn't smell like alcohol. He's just holding too many things in his hands. Flowers, car keys, yoyo, magazine, radio, CDs, books…
"Good morning to you too. You want to hear a joke?" Weiss had been telling more bad jokes lately that just fell flat. She figured that it was his way of coping with Vaughn's death. "Doesn't matter, you're gonna hear it anyways. What goes bzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzb?"
Silence. She just continued staring at him.
"Syd, are you even going to try?"
More silence.
Weiss sighed. It wasn't working. The stormy look on her face hadn't disappeared. He didn't even bother telling her that she looked horrible. She was awfully pale, almost a transparent white. She looked sickly, gaunt. "Well, the answer was a bee on a yoyo, and as for what I'm doing here, I was just called by your father and he said that you were in the hospital. What happened?"
Dead silence was all he heard as Sydney's mind meandered.
"Sydney?"
"I lost it."
"What do you mean by you 'lost it?' Crying doesn't send you to a hospital. A mental breakdown doesn't send you to a hospital. It sends you to a psych ward though, and you aren't in the psych ward…"
"I lost the baby."
"What baby?" Weiss questioned, obviously confused.
"I was pregnant with Vaughn's baby."
The rain that had been threatening to fall for some time finally fell.
"HOLY SH*T! Sydney, you were pregnant and you didn't even feel the need to tell anyone?!?!? Sh*t."
"I didn't know." Her muttering was drenched in crystalline tears. Weiss could hardly understand her words.
Weiss just stayed there with her until she finished sobbing. Why can't I die? I just want to die. I want Vaughn with me. Weiss is such a great friend, but I want, desire, wish for Vaughn. Je veux. Je desire. Je souhaite…
When her tears finally subsided, he asked, "How long are you going to stay here?"
"The doctor recommended that I stay here for the rest of the week. He says that I lost too much blood and that I'm severely malnourished."
"Sydney, what did I tell you about eating? You need to keep up your strength. Vaughn wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."
Another reminder of Vaughn. I never thought he would be used as a tool against me.
She finally wanted to satisfy her curiosity. "Weiss, why'd you bring over a radio?"
"I though you'd might want to listen to some music."
"Weiss… you can't bring a radio into a hospital room."
"I know, I know. The frequencies will mess up the medical equipment. That's why I brought you some CDs. I didn't know what type of music you like to listen to, so I took the liberty of going into your house and grabbing some. I also brought you a magazine and some books for you to read."
"Thank you, Weiss." She was truly thankful for him to think so much about her well-being. "And thank you for the flowers."
The flowers were a fix of lilies and roses. But Weiss didn't know that they were memories. Memories that have come to haunt her. Lilies for my birthday. Roses for Valentine's Day. A mixture of both on our anniversary day, the day when we started dating. I love you so much Vaughn.
"Actually, these flowers aren't from me, Sydney." That caught her attention.
"What?" Oh my god.
"They aren't from me. The nurse at the nurse's station wanted me to give these to you. She said someone left them there. She was just about to take them to you, but she soon realized that I was going to come visit you."
"So you don't know who these are from?" Sydney asked in surprise and in horror. Someone knows about the significance of these flowers. Someone knows.
"Well, there's a card attached to it." Weiss supplied helpfully.
Sydney reached for the card made of cloth. Cloth made writing untraceable. A graphologist would never be able to identify who wrote it. No pressure points. There was no signature on the inside and the writing was all in caps. All caps. Another way it wouldn't be traceable. When she finally read the inside of the card, and when she did, she wished she didn't. She was in shock. Pure shock.
Pour mon ange, mon amour. I do not blame you. Don't cry. Je t'aime. Toujours.
~tbc~
french translations:
Je veux: I want
Je desire: I desire
Je souhaite: I wish
Pour mon ange, mon amour: For my angel, my love
Je t'aime: I love you
Toujours: Always