Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed! I love and appreciate them!
I'm so sorry for the delay but I haven't been able to access the internet
in a while, so! I hope you aren't disappointed in this chapter! This is my
version of a song fic chapter...they don't happen that often if you don't
like them but let me know honestly what you think!
I don't own Faith Hill's or Mandy Moore's Cry (these are the songs that the story are based on) or Another Suit Case in Another Hall from the Broadway musical "Evita."
"Let's get you down to the medical services." Weiss murmured softly as Vaughn was wheeled away. Fear and shock was setting in on behalf of both parties. But for some reason, Weiss was keeping his emotions wonderfully in check. His brain seemed to focus on how much this must be aching for Vaughn right now, how much pain he must be going through. They were the same age but at that moment, every second of their existence showed on Vaughn's face. Thirty five years of headache was suddenly etched on the incapacitated agent. "We'll get you set up with some nice fluids, get a vile of that blood of yours and call it a day. We'll sit on the plane, you'll relax with Sydney and be all lovey dovey." Weiss attempted to soothe the pain and anguish out of Vaughn.
And failed, miserably.
"Eric-" Vaughn started to say, rather tearfully, "we have...we have to find out who killed my mother." Revenge and anger seeped through his voice as he gripped the side of his wheelchair hard. "I just found my father's killer and now I have to spend another 27 years looking for my mother's? No. That's not going to happen." His voice had never dropped this low and so soaked with hatred. "And I swear to G-d, if it's Sark or anyone related, I will personally kill them." He paused for a quick painful inhale, "I swear."
"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Let's get you to Fleury first and get through everything. Then, we'll go onto killers and murderers. Okay?" Weiss had started a quick jog to keep up with the wheelchair.
Vaughn rolled his eyes, "Yeah, okay." Life started to return to him slowly. But instead of the wonderful optimist life that had filled him for so many years, anger and bitterness had returned. His eyes burned with flames that threatened to engulf him, heart, body, and soul.
Call in three months time and I'll be fine I know
Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion
But that's no consolation--here and now
So what happens now?
Silence started to creep between the three agents. (Vaughn, Weiss, and Agent Robert Cortez, the agent wheeling the wheelchair.) It was a deafening silence that pounded in Vaughn's ears and made him cringe and wish he could escape. To make matters that much worse, the effects from the chemo started to come back. Nausea started to come in waves and blur his eyesight. Finally, he gave into the pain and shut his eyes, covered by the arch of his hand.
"Are you alright, sir?" Agent Cortez spoke up, his voice quavering out of nervousness.
"I'm fine!" Vaughn barked, not wanting to talk to anyone. All he wanted was to crawl back into bed and stay there for an exceptionally long time.
Weiss shot Cortez a silencing look. The rookie agent got the hint in the worst way. He straightened up and moved faster through the corridors.
Finally, after what seemed like miles and miles of black tiles and harsh overhead lighting, they reached medical services. Agents with a specialty in medicine mulled around like ants near a picnic. They all seemed like they had somewhere more important to be and they needed to be there five minutes ago. White coats surrounded the black clad agents.
"Are you Michael Vaughn?" One woman approached the wheelchair, glancing up from her chart that she kept glancing back and forth to.
"Yes." Vaughn managed to choke out, glaring at the spunky looking woman with pin straight red hair and hazel eyes. She was tall but probably shorter than Sydney. She was rather thin and obviously had a background in dance. Each movement was fluid and rather musical.
"Ah, Agent Vaughn, I'm Doctor Amelia Masci. I'll be attending to you for the time being." She paused slightly, as if to read what his face but was unable to do so. "So, let's get you over here. We'll get you some IV saline solution and get you rehydrated. I understand-" she flipped open the chart, "that you're undergoing intense chemotherapy for a stage three cancerous mass in your left lung. Is that correct?" Her eyes, hidden by black glasses, bounced back and forth between the black scribbled writing on the page to Vaughn's emerald colored eyes.
"Unfortunately, yes." Vaughn relinquished and sank further into the chair, as if defeated by announcing it in his workplace. "This is my second round of chemo."
The woman pulled a pen from her pocket and scribbled something down, "O-kay." Using the bottom part of her jaw, she clicked the pen closed and thrusted it back into her pocket. She turned her back on Vaughn for a moment and scanned the large room, looking for a place for them to rest for a moment.
"Another IV?" Vaughn sighed underneath his breath. He looked at his arms, partially bare and littered with what looked like track marks. "I don't think I have enough veins for it."
"Yes, yes." She shook him off and continued her quest for a place to store him. "Ah-ha!" She cried triumphantly, "Let's go over here, shall we?" She quickly marched, letting her hips sway with each step towards a distant corner on the other end of the room. "We'll give you some privacy while we get you back to normal. You need to leave for Fleury now, correct? You are being sent on a mission?" She walked, glancing back every now and then. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong."
Vaughn sighed, "No, unfortunately, you're right again." His voice was without its normal melody and beautiful tone. A flat, bored tone took over instead.
They reached the desire corner, complete with a heart monitor, ventilator, crash cart and other supplies straight out of ER. "Well, I wish you all the luck in the world."
"Thanks."
She motioned towards a bed, sitting in the corner, "Do you think you can hop up there for me?"
"I have cancer. I'm not a cripple." Vaughn spat and got out of the chair, his legs absolutely shaking. He moved, baby step by baby step to the bed and collapsed down onto it. "Can we get this over with?"
"Hold your horses, buddy." Weiss tried to pacify him and walked over to the opposite end of the white bed.
"Would you like me to stay?" Cortez spoke up, afraid of what Vaughn was going to snap in his direction.
"We'll only be a moment." The woman responded, finding a stool nearby and sitting down, bring herself towards Vaughn as he reclined back, offering the underside of his arm towards the doctor. She grabbed an IV introducer, "I'm sorry. This may prick."
"I'm used to pain."
Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through
and through
But every time it matters all my words desert me
So anyone can hurt me--and they do
So what happens now?
She started to prick at the vein and slid the IV successfully into his arm, hooking it up to a nearby stand with two bags of clear, water-like fluid. "We'll keep you on fluids until you land. You're horribly dehydrated."
"Well, Doctor Masci, am I finished?" He went to move his legs over to the side to get up.
She grimaced slightly, "No, Mr. Vaughn. I'm afraid that we still have a few more things to go over."
Vaughn rolled his eyes again and studied the dripping IV. "What is it?"
She crossed her legs and wrists and pressed her lips together rather tightly, "We have to discuss your regime while you're away." She paused slightly, "As you know, you're going to be missing your chemo treatments, so we're going to have someone..I believe it's-" She glanced at the chart, "Agent Weiss?"
Weiss snapped alive, "Yes."
Amelia smiled up at him flirtatiously and looked back at Vaughn, "Agent Weiss is going to take blood from you once and week and send it to one of our labs. They'll send me the results and send copies to your doctor.." She started to flip through the chart looking for a name, her lips slightly puckered in defeat.
"Doctor Christopher Marshall." Vaughn filled in the gaps, sounding completely bored.
"Yes, Doctor Marshall and he'll be kept notified of your on-going condition. Now, I believe that you are in perfectly good hands with Agent Weiss but if you need anything-anything at all, I am field trained and would more than willingly come and help you in any means possible." Amelia smiled and reached for his hand, "How are you doing, Mr. Vaughn? I know you're about to leave for a mission but I need to know how you're feeling..emotionally." Her eyes no longer had the look of a doctor but that of a woman, desperate for some attention. The flirt in her began to surface and the breakup with her boyfriend of a few years started to show in her bright yet pale complexion.
Vaughn retracted his hand and met her warm gray eyes with the coldness of the emerald eyes, "I'm fine or as well as can be expected." He cleared his throat loudly and turned to Weiss, who looked equally as uncomfortable.
"We need to be getting to the plane." Weiss smiled as Vaughn started to get out of the bed and moved towards the still standing wheelchair and looked towards Amelia, "Doctor Masci or may I call you Amelia?"
"Amelia's fine." She stood up and straightened her coat out slightly, "What can I help you with, Agent Weiss? Do you need help with hypodermic technique or how to handle blood or what?" She was so kind and so gentle and so desperate that she would have hit on Kendal if he was single and she was given the chance.
"Eric, please." Weiss put his hand as to put her at ease. "I just have one small question for you, if you don't mind."
"Of course not." Amelia motioned to an uninhabited corner of the room, "What is it?" Her eyes were full of eagerness and utmost concern.
"I was wondering, if that is you're not too preoccupied with work, if you would consider going out with me upon my arrival?"
She started to gush, "I am flattered, Eric but-but I just got out of a terrible breakup with my boyfriend and I'm really not interested in pursuing a relationship right now." Translation; Ew no! The sick one's my type! Not you!
"But you were flirting with me when I'm going out with someone?" piped up Vaughn, settling into his chair. He was bitter, there was no doubt.
She stammered slightly and felt the scarlet color rise in her cheeks, "Don't you need to be getting to your plane?"
"Uh-huh." Replied the rejected agent.
"C'mon man." Vaughn grumbled and wanted to escape this madness.
fLaShFoRwArD
SoMeWhErE oVeR tHe StAtEs
Sydney pushed aside the heavy black folder full of briefing materials and pinched the bridge of her nose slightly with one hand. She had just taken in too much information and now her brain physically ached from it. They had been flying for a few hours now and had read all of her materials at least three times and each time, they made less sense than the last.
"Who are you going to be?" Vaughn asked, talking for the first time since the Amelia ordeal. His brow had been knitted in a perpetual state of wrinkles. Those beautiful green spheres held more pain than most people experienced in a lifetime.
"Rifka Katerkanrisant and then someone I don't remember." She laughed slightly and moved towards his seat on the plane. He had been positioned himself towards the rear of the small plane on an aisle seat with the IV bag hanging and swaying overhead. His lips had stayed immobile since he reached the plane and preferred to sit there and watch her. He tried to memorize every curve of her face, every wrinkle whenever she read something she didn't care for, every movement. Her body, now exhausted, collapsed into the seat next to him, near the window. "How are you feeling?" She reached for his hand and held it tightly in her own. "Your hands are so cold!"
His green eyes were suddenly alive with vivid memories running through them. "Remember when you injected adrenaline into my heart?"
Sydney nodded her head gravely at the remembrance of Vaughn lying on that make shift hospital table, almost dead to the world, with assassins at her heels. She remembered the feeling of the syringe in her hand and the pressure of his body hitting the needle.
"That was like a day at the beach compared to this." His voice had grown hoarse again and his body ached with every fiber of his being. The soft leather beneath him started to stick in certain places and right now, he was just in pain.
"Do you want me to get the morphine?" She asked, gingerly. She was suddenly aware of the IV looming above his head. The IV pumped the fluid into his arm in a sinuous movement. Her thoughts were drifting towards the syringe in the medic bag full of ten milligrams of a wonderful painkiller.
Every heart beat vibrated in his chest. "No.no. I'm okay. It just aches a little bit. That's all this is. A dull aching pain." He paused for a moment and continued, trying to relate himself to her, "My sisters don't know about the cancer."
"What? How could you not have told them?"
He suddenly began to regret bringing up this topic. He pictured his beautiful sisters and in the same instant, he saw their faces red with tears from learning that their dear middle brother had cancer. "How could I tell them? They've been through enough without my problems. Like, my older sister, Isabelle, she had a miscarriage three months ago. Or Claire, she's been bouncing around with old and new boyfriends every other week. Their lives are complicated enough without my problems." He nodded his head, satisfied with their answer.
As a child and into part of her adolescent years, she wanted siblings. She realized that there was a special bond between a sister and a brother or a brother and a brother. It was a bond she knew she would never have.
He started to smile and this worried her greatly, "I can't wait for you to meet Claire. She's so beautiful-so full of life. She has this undying passion for everyday. Up at six and down at eleven everyday. She lives for each moment...she's my mother child. Izzy-Isabelle, she's more quiet. She was always content with working and reading. Maman used to tease her all the time that she would never get married that way. You know, all work and no play?"
"And you were your father's child?" She put two and two together.
"And I was my father's child." He grinned and looked off. "Or at least that's what we all believed." Vaughn got lost in his thoughts for a moment. He had memories of the three Vaughn children playing along the creek near their home and then quickly to their packing to spend their summers in Fleury. He remembered Isabelle going off to college, graduating, getting married, having her first child and losing her second. Claire was the wild child that spent a year touring Europe and going through a man per country. She did got to college, a major in performing arts with a minor in psychology. And all the while, their mother remained absolutely ageless, standing on the porch of their Santa Barbara with the same beaming smile and the bluest eyes in the world. She never had a wrinkle on her brow, except for the ones that appeared when she was worried. Felicity Delorme Vaughn was the most beautiful woman on the planet and she was the only one that Vaughn loved unconditionally. She was his mother and his best friend. And now, he was going to placing her in the earth. "But my father's dead." His voice suddenly turned cold as he continued "And so it my mother." It was time for the news to really hit hard. For the first time since hearing the news, he let tears that sprung to his eyes, drip down his face in silent pilgrimage towards his jaw line.
if i had just one tear
running down your cheek
maybe i could cope
maybe i'd get some sleep.
if i had just one moment at your expense
maybe all my misery would be well spent.
His tears were of a fascinating sort. Their crystal clear saltiness cascaded down along his face but barely allowed his eyes to get red. They started to come at a faster pace and soon, his entire entity shook with the sobs of the hole in his heart. Being older and losing a parent was just as horrible as being young. Why in the world did he feel familiarity with this pain? This had to be worst pain in the world and he felt as though he needed to be loved more than ever. He reached out of his hazy being and touched Sydney on the cheek. Her eyes were swelling over with tears, not for the lost of his mother, but for all that had happened. She felt as though she were sitting next to a stranger that she was in love with. Instinctively, she drew herself towards him but he refused to be touched. He just need to let all of his emotions out.
could you cry a little
lie just a little
pretend that youre feeling a little more pain.
i gave, now im wanting something in return
so cry just a little for me.
It was too much for him to handle. He was absolutely exhausted, he had cancer that had refused to go into remission, he was in pain, his love had finally returned, and his mother had died. The main part of the exhaustion took over for a while. It was that overtired rage that carried him through it all. His raw cry went on for a bit. He would go through the typical stages of tears. A gasping for air that left the rest of his body more vulnerable shook him for a while until the dry sniffs took over. "Oh G- d, Sydney." He finally managed to speak after what seemed like a half hour of sobbing. Absolute dry sobs took over, racking his body until he began to cough violently.
"I wish I could make this go away." She replied, feeling her brow wrinkle.
In places no one would find
All your feelings so deep inside (deep inside)
It was then that I realized
That forever was in your eyes
The moment I saw you cry
"I know." He tried so hard to control himself. Embarrassment started to take over, "I'm sorry."
She wished she could tear herself in two at that moment, "Why are you sorry? You've done nothing wrong!" She threw his arms around him and embraced him tightly.
"I'm sorry I left you. I hurt me so much to leave you." He started to sob harder than before. His body felt like in was going to implode at any moment. This was him hitting rock bottom. It would have been so much easier if he had just become an alcoholic or had had an affair or something. This was horrible. It was absolutely horrid. He started to ramble, conversing back in forth between French and English. "I love you so much, you know that right? I mean, I have never loved anyone else and it hurt me more than anything else. You know I love you, right?"
"I know, baby, I know."
"You have to know that!" He started to cry out desperately. "You have to know that I love you!" He started to sob again into her shoulder.
Sydney started to be absolutely thankful that Weiss had decided to curl up on the back seat and sleep for the long flight. All she wanted was to soothe this pain away and had no clue how. He was hurting in such a way that no one could ever heal his wounds. She clutched him tighter as her brain ran through possible solutions. And there were none. They just sat there for a long while.
"Do you remember what it was like...going to Laura's funeral?" He asked soberly and sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes. Those beautiful green spheres were clouded over with redness and his face was stained with salty tears. He sat back into his chair and looked around the two seats, as if looking for something to set his eyes on.
She thought about this for a moment and looked as if she was trying to remember a dream. Her nose crinkled up slightly as if she was trying to inhale a faint smell and her eyes squinted as though she was reading extremely small type. She reached how and traced a tear down his face, erasing it near his jaw line. "The only thing I remember is everyone being so sad and I knew-I knew nothing was ever going to be the same again. I remember it was beautiful out. Like the air was crystal clear and everything seemed so happy and safe but my mom wasn't there. And I kept waiting for her to burst out of a room, singing and dancing, like she always did and scoop me into her arms and bustle around the house with me. And she never came. I remember feeling confused and sad and the house suddenly feeling cold and-and-" She stopped as new bits and pieces started to resurface. "I don't remember crying though. I mean, even my father cried but I don't remember crying at all. Maybe it was because of the repression treatments that my father had me undergo, I don't know. I don't remember relatives, friends- I feel like I have amnesia. I guess my dad didn't want it to hurt too too badly. I'm sure as soon as he found out about what my mother was really, he wanted me to forget all most all of her."
Vaughn's brow had wrinkled in puzzlement, "Why did your dad make sure of it?" He swallowed, paused, and then the light bulb went off, "He made sure you had repressed memories so that you would never think about it...and never ask questions." Vaughn pictured little six year old Sydney asking a million and two questions about her mother and talking nonstop. No wonder Jack had opted not for her to remember a thing.
"Exactly but now, seeing all this, may be back memories. I mean, I remember a few sparse details but that was only because of Danny's funeral." She clinched her hand tightly as if in aching pain from missing her engagement ring.
Vaughn got the hint and wrapped his arms around her tightly and kiss the crown of her head and held her there for a short moment. He sighed as he pulled back away from her. "Why are our lives like this?" She swallowed hard and curled even tighter towards him.
Sydney looked up at him with sympathetic eyes, "Welcome to the United States Central Intelligence Agency."
Vaughn shook his head and studied his knees for a moment, not wanting to look Sydney in the eyes. His breath was becoming painful again and he knew exactly what that meant. Nothing would give him a break today. "I always thought that when I was a kid, I would be a part of the CIA and everything would be just like James Bond movies. I would save the world in an Armani tux, always get the girl, avenge my father's death and the bad guy would be in jail all within two and a half hours with an awesome soundtrack blaring in my head. But now, I don't have any of it."
Where was his fairy tale ending that he had seen so many times played out before him? Where were the designer cars with the designer clothes to match? Where were the wonderfully scripted villains that had no real motive and all they wanted was world domination but had more flaws than any other human being on the planet. Where was it all and how could he get it? The hero never had a flaw except for a good taste in clothes, women, and wine. And if he did say so himself, he had all three. But now, he had cancer that required evasive treatments and was still spreading. Actually, that knot in his shoulder was more than likely an effect from the cancer spreading. *The hero dies in this one.*
"Well," Sydney replied interrupting his thoughts, "you did get the girl."
"I did?" He lost the one woman in his life that always understood him. She didn't even argue when he had decided to join the CIA. All she did was nod slightly and walk from the room. But now, he had another woman that understood him in a different way. This woman, who he loved with all of his heart and soul, would keep him from the burning fires that threatened to engulf him. And he needed her more than ever.
"You did."
Vaughn acknowledged this and sunk further into his chair, reclining back slightly and opened his arms up for her to snuggled up against him. She smiled and agreed to it, settling on a spot below his breast bone, "You don't know how much I missed you."
"Oh, I think I know." She replied, running her finger along on the veins in his arm. She curled up closer and he in turn, placed his hand on her stomach.
He needed to know. "I want to go back to where we were before I left. Can we do that?" His mind had been swarming around with so many questions that it hurt to think of one more. But there was this one last question, the one he wanted to pop since he had met her, was the most important of all. He wanted to take her to the family villa in Fleury for a different reason other than a funeral.
She snuggled up even closer and nodded into his chest, "I hated waking up alone." She thought of the pale blue sheets that had spread out over her bed. The right side was also cold and neat while the left side, her side, was lived in and comfortable. The right bedside table was empty and was only gathering dust. She hated being alone. "I felt like I had done something so horrible and I lost you-just like I lost." Her voice trailed off. She felt like she had lost Vaughn like she had lost Danny and Noah.
"I know." He quieted her with a kiss to the forehead. "You know, you'll never lose me like you lost them. I'm not going anywhere anymore. I ran once and I'm *not* doing it again." His hand started to play with the ridges on her stomach. "You have me forever, if you want me."
"And you'll have me forever, if you want me." She retorted, taking his hand in her own and started to play with his left ring finger, comparing it to her own. Her eyes reached up and with them, her hand reached his cheek. The slight stubble beneath her fingertips tickled slightly but the only thing on her mind was how wonderful he was. Their eyes locked for a moment, just like they had hundreds of times before. He reached down, engulfing himself in her. Their lips met, hesitantly at first but quickly grew in the intensity that was so familiar to both sets. His lips felt so smooth and sweet against hers and he felt the similar sentiment. Their hands started to explore each other and slowly, she started to turn off of her chest and onto her stomach, resting still on his chest. Her fingers explored his hair and felt his thinning frame beneath. His hands discovered her body, underneath the black silk. Her stomach was as toned as ever and the muscles in her body glistened in the harsh overhead lighting. His arms went to wrap her more tightly but was promptly stopped by the IV. His death sentence was hanging above him and hindering his chance for true happiness for a little while.
He groaned slightly and looked above in frustration, "Damn it!" He yelped slightly.
Taking notice, Sydney sat up and backed off of him. Her eyes were flooded with concern. She felt his pain and helped him to sit up more. She started to smile as he sat up further, rubbing his vein slightly. The color was beginning to return to his face, "You look better."
He grinned suggestively, "I wonder why." The aching pain of his lost seemed to vanish for a few waking moments. It was nice to get a reprieve from the horrors of the real world. It may have seemed harsh to be making out with someone the day you found out of your mother's death but it was also the day that he was reunited with his love that he had lost over ten months ago. He leaned in for another passionate kiss but Sydney cut it short.
"We have to stop. Right now." She looked away from him and over towards sleeping Weiss. A grin spread over her face as she quoted him from so many months ago. "Or else, we're going to wake Sleeping Beauty over there."
"You think I don't hear you?" Weiss, lying face down on a similar seat, barked. "You two are like going at it like rabbits! There's going to be like a dozen little Sydney's and Vaughn's running around!"
"Sorry, man." Vaughn quickly turned his head, replied and turned back towards Sydney.
"Sorry!" Sydney squeaked and started to curl towards Vaughn before bursting into giggles.
I'm sorry if this wasn't as good as the others. My favorite chapter is the next one, where you get to meet Isabelle and Claire. And you think the Bristows have family problems? Just you wait! I hope that my little scene between Syd and Vaughn wasn't too too bad. I've never written anything like that before!
As always,
Read and Review! Share you opinions and I will most definitely listen!
I don't own Faith Hill's or Mandy Moore's Cry (these are the songs that the story are based on) or Another Suit Case in Another Hall from the Broadway musical "Evita."
"Let's get you down to the medical services." Weiss murmured softly as Vaughn was wheeled away. Fear and shock was setting in on behalf of both parties. But for some reason, Weiss was keeping his emotions wonderfully in check. His brain seemed to focus on how much this must be aching for Vaughn right now, how much pain he must be going through. They were the same age but at that moment, every second of their existence showed on Vaughn's face. Thirty five years of headache was suddenly etched on the incapacitated agent. "We'll get you set up with some nice fluids, get a vile of that blood of yours and call it a day. We'll sit on the plane, you'll relax with Sydney and be all lovey dovey." Weiss attempted to soothe the pain and anguish out of Vaughn.
And failed, miserably.
"Eric-" Vaughn started to say, rather tearfully, "we have...we have to find out who killed my mother." Revenge and anger seeped through his voice as he gripped the side of his wheelchair hard. "I just found my father's killer and now I have to spend another 27 years looking for my mother's? No. That's not going to happen." His voice had never dropped this low and so soaked with hatred. "And I swear to G-d, if it's Sark or anyone related, I will personally kill them." He paused for a quick painful inhale, "I swear."
"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Let's get you to Fleury first and get through everything. Then, we'll go onto killers and murderers. Okay?" Weiss had started a quick jog to keep up with the wheelchair.
Vaughn rolled his eyes, "Yeah, okay." Life started to return to him slowly. But instead of the wonderful optimist life that had filled him for so many years, anger and bitterness had returned. His eyes burned with flames that threatened to engulf him, heart, body, and soul.
Call in three months time and I'll be fine I know
Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion
But that's no consolation--here and now
So what happens now?
Silence started to creep between the three agents. (Vaughn, Weiss, and Agent Robert Cortez, the agent wheeling the wheelchair.) It was a deafening silence that pounded in Vaughn's ears and made him cringe and wish he could escape. To make matters that much worse, the effects from the chemo started to come back. Nausea started to come in waves and blur his eyesight. Finally, he gave into the pain and shut his eyes, covered by the arch of his hand.
"Are you alright, sir?" Agent Cortez spoke up, his voice quavering out of nervousness.
"I'm fine!" Vaughn barked, not wanting to talk to anyone. All he wanted was to crawl back into bed and stay there for an exceptionally long time.
Weiss shot Cortez a silencing look. The rookie agent got the hint in the worst way. He straightened up and moved faster through the corridors.
Finally, after what seemed like miles and miles of black tiles and harsh overhead lighting, they reached medical services. Agents with a specialty in medicine mulled around like ants near a picnic. They all seemed like they had somewhere more important to be and they needed to be there five minutes ago. White coats surrounded the black clad agents.
"Are you Michael Vaughn?" One woman approached the wheelchair, glancing up from her chart that she kept glancing back and forth to.
"Yes." Vaughn managed to choke out, glaring at the spunky looking woman with pin straight red hair and hazel eyes. She was tall but probably shorter than Sydney. She was rather thin and obviously had a background in dance. Each movement was fluid and rather musical.
"Ah, Agent Vaughn, I'm Doctor Amelia Masci. I'll be attending to you for the time being." She paused slightly, as if to read what his face but was unable to do so. "So, let's get you over here. We'll get you some IV saline solution and get you rehydrated. I understand-" she flipped open the chart, "that you're undergoing intense chemotherapy for a stage three cancerous mass in your left lung. Is that correct?" Her eyes, hidden by black glasses, bounced back and forth between the black scribbled writing on the page to Vaughn's emerald colored eyes.
"Unfortunately, yes." Vaughn relinquished and sank further into the chair, as if defeated by announcing it in his workplace. "This is my second round of chemo."
The woman pulled a pen from her pocket and scribbled something down, "O-kay." Using the bottom part of her jaw, she clicked the pen closed and thrusted it back into her pocket. She turned her back on Vaughn for a moment and scanned the large room, looking for a place for them to rest for a moment.
"Another IV?" Vaughn sighed underneath his breath. He looked at his arms, partially bare and littered with what looked like track marks. "I don't think I have enough veins for it."
"Yes, yes." She shook him off and continued her quest for a place to store him. "Ah-ha!" She cried triumphantly, "Let's go over here, shall we?" She quickly marched, letting her hips sway with each step towards a distant corner on the other end of the room. "We'll give you some privacy while we get you back to normal. You need to leave for Fleury now, correct? You are being sent on a mission?" She walked, glancing back every now and then. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong."
Vaughn sighed, "No, unfortunately, you're right again." His voice was without its normal melody and beautiful tone. A flat, bored tone took over instead.
They reached the desire corner, complete with a heart monitor, ventilator, crash cart and other supplies straight out of ER. "Well, I wish you all the luck in the world."
"Thanks."
She motioned towards a bed, sitting in the corner, "Do you think you can hop up there for me?"
"I have cancer. I'm not a cripple." Vaughn spat and got out of the chair, his legs absolutely shaking. He moved, baby step by baby step to the bed and collapsed down onto it. "Can we get this over with?"
"Hold your horses, buddy." Weiss tried to pacify him and walked over to the opposite end of the white bed.
"Would you like me to stay?" Cortez spoke up, afraid of what Vaughn was going to snap in his direction.
"We'll only be a moment." The woman responded, finding a stool nearby and sitting down, bring herself towards Vaughn as he reclined back, offering the underside of his arm towards the doctor. She grabbed an IV introducer, "I'm sorry. This may prick."
"I'm used to pain."
Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through
and through
But every time it matters all my words desert me
So anyone can hurt me--and they do
So what happens now?
She started to prick at the vein and slid the IV successfully into his arm, hooking it up to a nearby stand with two bags of clear, water-like fluid. "We'll keep you on fluids until you land. You're horribly dehydrated."
"Well, Doctor Masci, am I finished?" He went to move his legs over to the side to get up.
She grimaced slightly, "No, Mr. Vaughn. I'm afraid that we still have a few more things to go over."
Vaughn rolled his eyes again and studied the dripping IV. "What is it?"
She crossed her legs and wrists and pressed her lips together rather tightly, "We have to discuss your regime while you're away." She paused slightly, "As you know, you're going to be missing your chemo treatments, so we're going to have someone..I believe it's-" She glanced at the chart, "Agent Weiss?"
Weiss snapped alive, "Yes."
Amelia smiled up at him flirtatiously and looked back at Vaughn, "Agent Weiss is going to take blood from you once and week and send it to one of our labs. They'll send me the results and send copies to your doctor.." She started to flip through the chart looking for a name, her lips slightly puckered in defeat.
"Doctor Christopher Marshall." Vaughn filled in the gaps, sounding completely bored.
"Yes, Doctor Marshall and he'll be kept notified of your on-going condition. Now, I believe that you are in perfectly good hands with Agent Weiss but if you need anything-anything at all, I am field trained and would more than willingly come and help you in any means possible." Amelia smiled and reached for his hand, "How are you doing, Mr. Vaughn? I know you're about to leave for a mission but I need to know how you're feeling..emotionally." Her eyes no longer had the look of a doctor but that of a woman, desperate for some attention. The flirt in her began to surface and the breakup with her boyfriend of a few years started to show in her bright yet pale complexion.
Vaughn retracted his hand and met her warm gray eyes with the coldness of the emerald eyes, "I'm fine or as well as can be expected." He cleared his throat loudly and turned to Weiss, who looked equally as uncomfortable.
"We need to be getting to the plane." Weiss smiled as Vaughn started to get out of the bed and moved towards the still standing wheelchair and looked towards Amelia, "Doctor Masci or may I call you Amelia?"
"Amelia's fine." She stood up and straightened her coat out slightly, "What can I help you with, Agent Weiss? Do you need help with hypodermic technique or how to handle blood or what?" She was so kind and so gentle and so desperate that she would have hit on Kendal if he was single and she was given the chance.
"Eric, please." Weiss put his hand as to put her at ease. "I just have one small question for you, if you don't mind."
"Of course not." Amelia motioned to an uninhabited corner of the room, "What is it?" Her eyes were full of eagerness and utmost concern.
"I was wondering, if that is you're not too preoccupied with work, if you would consider going out with me upon my arrival?"
She started to gush, "I am flattered, Eric but-but I just got out of a terrible breakup with my boyfriend and I'm really not interested in pursuing a relationship right now." Translation; Ew no! The sick one's my type! Not you!
"But you were flirting with me when I'm going out with someone?" piped up Vaughn, settling into his chair. He was bitter, there was no doubt.
She stammered slightly and felt the scarlet color rise in her cheeks, "Don't you need to be getting to your plane?"
"Uh-huh." Replied the rejected agent.
"C'mon man." Vaughn grumbled and wanted to escape this madness.
fLaShFoRwArD
SoMeWhErE oVeR tHe StAtEs
Sydney pushed aside the heavy black folder full of briefing materials and pinched the bridge of her nose slightly with one hand. She had just taken in too much information and now her brain physically ached from it. They had been flying for a few hours now and had read all of her materials at least three times and each time, they made less sense than the last.
"Who are you going to be?" Vaughn asked, talking for the first time since the Amelia ordeal. His brow had been knitted in a perpetual state of wrinkles. Those beautiful green spheres held more pain than most people experienced in a lifetime.
"Rifka Katerkanrisant and then someone I don't remember." She laughed slightly and moved towards his seat on the plane. He had been positioned himself towards the rear of the small plane on an aisle seat with the IV bag hanging and swaying overhead. His lips had stayed immobile since he reached the plane and preferred to sit there and watch her. He tried to memorize every curve of her face, every wrinkle whenever she read something she didn't care for, every movement. Her body, now exhausted, collapsed into the seat next to him, near the window. "How are you feeling?" She reached for his hand and held it tightly in her own. "Your hands are so cold!"
His green eyes were suddenly alive with vivid memories running through them. "Remember when you injected adrenaline into my heart?"
Sydney nodded her head gravely at the remembrance of Vaughn lying on that make shift hospital table, almost dead to the world, with assassins at her heels. She remembered the feeling of the syringe in her hand and the pressure of his body hitting the needle.
"That was like a day at the beach compared to this." His voice had grown hoarse again and his body ached with every fiber of his being. The soft leather beneath him started to stick in certain places and right now, he was just in pain.
"Do you want me to get the morphine?" She asked, gingerly. She was suddenly aware of the IV looming above his head. The IV pumped the fluid into his arm in a sinuous movement. Her thoughts were drifting towards the syringe in the medic bag full of ten milligrams of a wonderful painkiller.
Every heart beat vibrated in his chest. "No.no. I'm okay. It just aches a little bit. That's all this is. A dull aching pain." He paused for a moment and continued, trying to relate himself to her, "My sisters don't know about the cancer."
"What? How could you not have told them?"
He suddenly began to regret bringing up this topic. He pictured his beautiful sisters and in the same instant, he saw their faces red with tears from learning that their dear middle brother had cancer. "How could I tell them? They've been through enough without my problems. Like, my older sister, Isabelle, she had a miscarriage three months ago. Or Claire, she's been bouncing around with old and new boyfriends every other week. Their lives are complicated enough without my problems." He nodded his head, satisfied with their answer.
As a child and into part of her adolescent years, she wanted siblings. She realized that there was a special bond between a sister and a brother or a brother and a brother. It was a bond she knew she would never have.
He started to smile and this worried her greatly, "I can't wait for you to meet Claire. She's so beautiful-so full of life. She has this undying passion for everyday. Up at six and down at eleven everyday. She lives for each moment...she's my mother child. Izzy-Isabelle, she's more quiet. She was always content with working and reading. Maman used to tease her all the time that she would never get married that way. You know, all work and no play?"
"And you were your father's child?" She put two and two together.
"And I was my father's child." He grinned and looked off. "Or at least that's what we all believed." Vaughn got lost in his thoughts for a moment. He had memories of the three Vaughn children playing along the creek near their home and then quickly to their packing to spend their summers in Fleury. He remembered Isabelle going off to college, graduating, getting married, having her first child and losing her second. Claire was the wild child that spent a year touring Europe and going through a man per country. She did got to college, a major in performing arts with a minor in psychology. And all the while, their mother remained absolutely ageless, standing on the porch of their Santa Barbara with the same beaming smile and the bluest eyes in the world. She never had a wrinkle on her brow, except for the ones that appeared when she was worried. Felicity Delorme Vaughn was the most beautiful woman on the planet and she was the only one that Vaughn loved unconditionally. She was his mother and his best friend. And now, he was going to placing her in the earth. "But my father's dead." His voice suddenly turned cold as he continued "And so it my mother." It was time for the news to really hit hard. For the first time since hearing the news, he let tears that sprung to his eyes, drip down his face in silent pilgrimage towards his jaw line.
if i had just one tear
running down your cheek
maybe i could cope
maybe i'd get some sleep.
if i had just one moment at your expense
maybe all my misery would be well spent.
His tears were of a fascinating sort. Their crystal clear saltiness cascaded down along his face but barely allowed his eyes to get red. They started to come at a faster pace and soon, his entire entity shook with the sobs of the hole in his heart. Being older and losing a parent was just as horrible as being young. Why in the world did he feel familiarity with this pain? This had to be worst pain in the world and he felt as though he needed to be loved more than ever. He reached out of his hazy being and touched Sydney on the cheek. Her eyes were swelling over with tears, not for the lost of his mother, but for all that had happened. She felt as though she were sitting next to a stranger that she was in love with. Instinctively, she drew herself towards him but he refused to be touched. He just need to let all of his emotions out.
could you cry a little
lie just a little
pretend that youre feeling a little more pain.
i gave, now im wanting something in return
so cry just a little for me.
It was too much for him to handle. He was absolutely exhausted, he had cancer that had refused to go into remission, he was in pain, his love had finally returned, and his mother had died. The main part of the exhaustion took over for a while. It was that overtired rage that carried him through it all. His raw cry went on for a bit. He would go through the typical stages of tears. A gasping for air that left the rest of his body more vulnerable shook him for a while until the dry sniffs took over. "Oh G- d, Sydney." He finally managed to speak after what seemed like a half hour of sobbing. Absolute dry sobs took over, racking his body until he began to cough violently.
"I wish I could make this go away." She replied, feeling her brow wrinkle.
In places no one would find
All your feelings so deep inside (deep inside)
It was then that I realized
That forever was in your eyes
The moment I saw you cry
"I know." He tried so hard to control himself. Embarrassment started to take over, "I'm sorry."
She wished she could tear herself in two at that moment, "Why are you sorry? You've done nothing wrong!" She threw his arms around him and embraced him tightly.
"I'm sorry I left you. I hurt me so much to leave you." He started to sob harder than before. His body felt like in was going to implode at any moment. This was him hitting rock bottom. It would have been so much easier if he had just become an alcoholic or had had an affair or something. This was horrible. It was absolutely horrid. He started to ramble, conversing back in forth between French and English. "I love you so much, you know that right? I mean, I have never loved anyone else and it hurt me more than anything else. You know I love you, right?"
"I know, baby, I know."
"You have to know that!" He started to cry out desperately. "You have to know that I love you!" He started to sob again into her shoulder.
Sydney started to be absolutely thankful that Weiss had decided to curl up on the back seat and sleep for the long flight. All she wanted was to soothe this pain away and had no clue how. He was hurting in such a way that no one could ever heal his wounds. She clutched him tighter as her brain ran through possible solutions. And there were none. They just sat there for a long while.
"Do you remember what it was like...going to Laura's funeral?" He asked soberly and sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes. Those beautiful green spheres were clouded over with redness and his face was stained with salty tears. He sat back into his chair and looked around the two seats, as if looking for something to set his eyes on.
She thought about this for a moment and looked as if she was trying to remember a dream. Her nose crinkled up slightly as if she was trying to inhale a faint smell and her eyes squinted as though she was reading extremely small type. She reached how and traced a tear down his face, erasing it near his jaw line. "The only thing I remember is everyone being so sad and I knew-I knew nothing was ever going to be the same again. I remember it was beautiful out. Like the air was crystal clear and everything seemed so happy and safe but my mom wasn't there. And I kept waiting for her to burst out of a room, singing and dancing, like she always did and scoop me into her arms and bustle around the house with me. And she never came. I remember feeling confused and sad and the house suddenly feeling cold and-and-" She stopped as new bits and pieces started to resurface. "I don't remember crying though. I mean, even my father cried but I don't remember crying at all. Maybe it was because of the repression treatments that my father had me undergo, I don't know. I don't remember relatives, friends- I feel like I have amnesia. I guess my dad didn't want it to hurt too too badly. I'm sure as soon as he found out about what my mother was really, he wanted me to forget all most all of her."
Vaughn's brow had wrinkled in puzzlement, "Why did your dad make sure of it?" He swallowed, paused, and then the light bulb went off, "He made sure you had repressed memories so that you would never think about it...and never ask questions." Vaughn pictured little six year old Sydney asking a million and two questions about her mother and talking nonstop. No wonder Jack had opted not for her to remember a thing.
"Exactly but now, seeing all this, may be back memories. I mean, I remember a few sparse details but that was only because of Danny's funeral." She clinched her hand tightly as if in aching pain from missing her engagement ring.
Vaughn got the hint and wrapped his arms around her tightly and kiss the crown of her head and held her there for a short moment. He sighed as he pulled back away from her. "Why are our lives like this?" She swallowed hard and curled even tighter towards him.
Sydney looked up at him with sympathetic eyes, "Welcome to the United States Central Intelligence Agency."
Vaughn shook his head and studied his knees for a moment, not wanting to look Sydney in the eyes. His breath was becoming painful again and he knew exactly what that meant. Nothing would give him a break today. "I always thought that when I was a kid, I would be a part of the CIA and everything would be just like James Bond movies. I would save the world in an Armani tux, always get the girl, avenge my father's death and the bad guy would be in jail all within two and a half hours with an awesome soundtrack blaring in my head. But now, I don't have any of it."
Where was his fairy tale ending that he had seen so many times played out before him? Where were the designer cars with the designer clothes to match? Where were the wonderfully scripted villains that had no real motive and all they wanted was world domination but had more flaws than any other human being on the planet. Where was it all and how could he get it? The hero never had a flaw except for a good taste in clothes, women, and wine. And if he did say so himself, he had all three. But now, he had cancer that required evasive treatments and was still spreading. Actually, that knot in his shoulder was more than likely an effect from the cancer spreading. *The hero dies in this one.*
"Well," Sydney replied interrupting his thoughts, "you did get the girl."
"I did?" He lost the one woman in his life that always understood him. She didn't even argue when he had decided to join the CIA. All she did was nod slightly and walk from the room. But now, he had another woman that understood him in a different way. This woman, who he loved with all of his heart and soul, would keep him from the burning fires that threatened to engulf him. And he needed her more than ever.
"You did."
Vaughn acknowledged this and sunk further into his chair, reclining back slightly and opened his arms up for her to snuggled up against him. She smiled and agreed to it, settling on a spot below his breast bone, "You don't know how much I missed you."
"Oh, I think I know." She replied, running her finger along on the veins in his arm. She curled up closer and he in turn, placed his hand on her stomach.
He needed to know. "I want to go back to where we were before I left. Can we do that?" His mind had been swarming around with so many questions that it hurt to think of one more. But there was this one last question, the one he wanted to pop since he had met her, was the most important of all. He wanted to take her to the family villa in Fleury for a different reason other than a funeral.
She snuggled up even closer and nodded into his chest, "I hated waking up alone." She thought of the pale blue sheets that had spread out over her bed. The right side was also cold and neat while the left side, her side, was lived in and comfortable. The right bedside table was empty and was only gathering dust. She hated being alone. "I felt like I had done something so horrible and I lost you-just like I lost." Her voice trailed off. She felt like she had lost Vaughn like she had lost Danny and Noah.
"I know." He quieted her with a kiss to the forehead. "You know, you'll never lose me like you lost them. I'm not going anywhere anymore. I ran once and I'm *not* doing it again." His hand started to play with the ridges on her stomach. "You have me forever, if you want me."
"And you'll have me forever, if you want me." She retorted, taking his hand in her own and started to play with his left ring finger, comparing it to her own. Her eyes reached up and with them, her hand reached his cheek. The slight stubble beneath her fingertips tickled slightly but the only thing on her mind was how wonderful he was. Their eyes locked for a moment, just like they had hundreds of times before. He reached down, engulfing himself in her. Their lips met, hesitantly at first but quickly grew in the intensity that was so familiar to both sets. His lips felt so smooth and sweet against hers and he felt the similar sentiment. Their hands started to explore each other and slowly, she started to turn off of her chest and onto her stomach, resting still on his chest. Her fingers explored his hair and felt his thinning frame beneath. His hands discovered her body, underneath the black silk. Her stomach was as toned as ever and the muscles in her body glistened in the harsh overhead lighting. His arms went to wrap her more tightly but was promptly stopped by the IV. His death sentence was hanging above him and hindering his chance for true happiness for a little while.
He groaned slightly and looked above in frustration, "Damn it!" He yelped slightly.
Taking notice, Sydney sat up and backed off of him. Her eyes were flooded with concern. She felt his pain and helped him to sit up more. She started to smile as he sat up further, rubbing his vein slightly. The color was beginning to return to his face, "You look better."
He grinned suggestively, "I wonder why." The aching pain of his lost seemed to vanish for a few waking moments. It was nice to get a reprieve from the horrors of the real world. It may have seemed harsh to be making out with someone the day you found out of your mother's death but it was also the day that he was reunited with his love that he had lost over ten months ago. He leaned in for another passionate kiss but Sydney cut it short.
"We have to stop. Right now." She looked away from him and over towards sleeping Weiss. A grin spread over her face as she quoted him from so many months ago. "Or else, we're going to wake Sleeping Beauty over there."
"You think I don't hear you?" Weiss, lying face down on a similar seat, barked. "You two are like going at it like rabbits! There's going to be like a dozen little Sydney's and Vaughn's running around!"
"Sorry, man." Vaughn quickly turned his head, replied and turned back towards Sydney.
"Sorry!" Sydney squeaked and started to curl towards Vaughn before bursting into giggles.
I'm sorry if this wasn't as good as the others. My favorite chapter is the next one, where you get to meet Isabelle and Claire. And you think the Bristows have family problems? Just you wait! I hope that my little scene between Syd and Vaughn wasn't too too bad. I've never written anything like that before!
As always,
Read and Review! Share you opinions and I will most definitely listen!