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Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone!
AnnaSun, you're still the fastest person out there ;)… angela (I think you're over at SD-1, now, but I could be wrong…), either way, I still can't believe you read through the whole thing… I'm glad you like it, neptunestar, Brynne, liz and lightning bug! Thanks for taking the time to review… I love Daddy!Vaughn too, faelai. Just the thought of Vaughn being a father… Here's more Weiss for you, CryHope ;)… And valley-girl2, you must have more lives than any other person on earth. I love it! J
Thanks again!
~~~
Chapter 9: Whispers and Rings
Without a word, without a thought, without a breath; in less than the beat of a heart, the fluttering of an eyelid, the rushing of blood to heated cheeks, Vaughn snatched Ilya up. The little boy threw his arms around him, burying a tiny, tear-stained face in his neck, and hanging on for dear life.
Vaughn held him just as tightly. It came as naturally as his free hand came to the little boy's head, its fingers running through his hair; as naturally as the lyrics to the French lullaby whispered themselves from his lips, his body rocking back and forth to the instinctive rhythm of the words.
Relief washed through the both of them, each calming the other, one by instinct, the other unaware of the soothing power he possessed. A few moments lapsed before Vaughn remembered the others standing before him: Jack and Martin, both a few feet away, neither trying, neither daring to steal the child from his tender but protective hold.
Vaughn stood before them, suddenly as formidable as a fortress, as accusing as a father whose own child had almost been grabbed from him. He didn't know where the words came from, where he had found such a harsh tone after such a sweet moment. But it was pulled from within him as if it had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to break the weakened bars that had it captured and make a hurtling escape.
"You're not taking him away."
The words and voice caught even Vaughn himself off guard. He had used that tone before, but only a few times. Only in reference to Sydney, and only when she was in danger. Only when something had to be done to protect her, to save her life.
"He'll leave eventually. When we find his proper guardian."
Trust Jack to be matter-of-fact. While there may have been a flicker of astonishment at Vaughn's words, at the way the younger man boldly stood up to him and thus all authority, Jack was not about to be outdone. At least not right away.
"But not until then," Vaughn whispered, the danger in that simple, low tone multiplied thousands of times more than any yell would have had, his features tensing, eyes flaring with anger.
It was perilous to stand up to a superior like that, especially the one superior who also happened to be the father of the woman he wanted to…
"I'll go speak to Devlin."
With that, Jack left, Martin following on his heels. No fireworks exploded, lighting the sky to declare the occasion; no birds were there to sing sweet songs of success; trumpets and drums did not echo through the hills...
But even so, Vaughn had won.
What he didn't know was that he had had some help. He never found out, was never told that Jack Bristow stood in Director Devlin's office for nearly half an hour trying to convince him that his daughter and yes, even Agent Vaughn, were the best temporary guardians for the child, even threatening to call in a therapist to prove how psychologically damaging moving the boy would be.
Devlin had finally agreed, more because he did not want to face Jack Bristow's wrath than anything else, sighing in defeat and ordering efforts on the case to be redoubled, wanting his two agents back on duty as soon as possible.
But Vaughn had still won. And if he had known that this victory included triumph over Jack Bristow himself and not just his orders, it would have only made it that much more satisfying.
Vaughn sighed with relief, whispering reassuringly to Ilya and rubbing his back. Without thinking, he planted a gentle kiss on the little boy's head, not even realizing he had done it until afterwards, leaving himself wondering if he should have, if it had been the right thing to do.
But if Ilya detested this demonstration of affection, he didn't protest. The child's head lay against Vaughn's shoulder, a thumb in his mouth, as always, the other hand still around Vaughn's neck, clinging there desperately. His breathing had already started to calm, his eyes to flutter closed, the recent emotional and physical events too taxing on such a small mind and body for them to stay open much longer.
Vaughn spun around, expecting to see Sydney behind him to share the smile in her eyes, and suddenly remembered how she had run off, didn't know how he could have forgotten. He quickly walked in that direction, a frantically insane panic suddenly sweeping through him when he realized that she had been gone for quite some time.
But a hand whipping out of an open doorway stopped him in his path, pulling him inside a room and nearly waking the child who had just fallen asleep on his shoulder. He read the letters on the door, couldn't help smiling as he remembered the spelling lecture he had gotten earlier. Weiss.
"Mike…"
"Eric, don't."
But if Vaughn thought that that simple command would stop his friend, then he must have been hanging out with someone other than Eric Weiss all these years. The tirade began, the words startlingly familiar, but put in a different context.
"Don't you think you're getting a little too emotional here? He's just some damn kid you picked up in Russia. This is your job, Mike. You know, that thing you do to earn money? So you don't have to stand on the side of the road begging soda cans off 12-year-old boys? Or bumming off me," he added, hands on his hips. "Again."
"Eric, you don't know what you're talking about."
A simple statement, said with a sigh. In all reality, Vaughn had only been half listening, really did not want to have to get into an argument. He had to find Sydney and…
"I think I do. You…"
Michael Vaughn had just stood up to Sydney's father and Devlin through him. As much as he hadn't wanted to start anything, there was no way in hell he was going to let his friend tell him what he should and shouldn't do. Not about something like this. Weiss had no idea what it was like to hold the child in his arms, to sing him to sleep at night, to see Sydney's eyes when she taught him how to change a diaper, when she…
"No. You haven't been living with this "damn kid" for the past few days. You don't have someone like Sydney, who you think you might have…"
"God, Mike!" Weiss had listened long enough without interrupting, had amazingly let him get through almost two whole sentences, and couldn't take it any longer. "It's not like she's your wife. Who knows what…"
A couple weeks ago, Vaughn had been given the Asserting Yourself lecture from Eric Weiss, ladies' man. It had been painful enough the first time, and he did not need to hear it again or relive that first experience.
Maybe what came out of his mouth to prevent it was not the smartest word he could have uttered, but it was the first one that came to mind, the truth springing to his lips before anything else…
"Yet."
It did serve, however, to stop Eric in his path, unable to continue his lecture until his jaw was scraped up from the ground. All anger, all hints of what might have been that same lecture once again, buzzed away as soon as Weiss received this new, unintentionally given information.
"What? Whoa… have you asked her?"
A seemingly simple question that lacked a real, one hundred percent true answer. Technically?
"No."
"Are you gonna? Soon? Don't you think it's too…"
Too soon?
He wondered himself if it was too soon, the monsters lurking in his head whispering it to him every thirty seconds, just as he began to feel reassured that it wasn't, spouting doubt where none had to be. But this was a rare moment when the monsters were quiet, perhaps scared away by the strength and determination exhibited earlier, afraid that if they tried to cross Vaughn now, they would surely be killed and could never return.
Vaughn knew, the thought pelting him suddenly at that moment, even though he had somehow known it all along… that there was no one else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The question was not whether it was too soon, but if it could ever be soon enough…
"Eric…"
"Well, I guess you have known her for two years. But seriously, you could only have been sleeping with her for like six months at the most, because damn, were you sex-deprived before…"
So many thoughts were droning through Vaughn's mind, so many different truths making such an awful racket… Some he himself was just realizing, the few he had yet to tell Sydney, the many she already knew, those he definitely did not want Eric to know…
They were becoming jumbled into an impossible knot, nearly leaving him without a response. He tugged desperately at a loosened thread, wanting to grab and say anything to make Eric stop, to bring an end to this conversation. Unfortunately, wrenching the wrong one loose and…
"Four," Vaughn answered, not knowing why he had felt the need to clarify, why he had opened his mouth, kicking himself as soon as he did. "Four months."
"Four months?! That's…" Weiss tapered off.
Vaughn could almost smell the smoke wafting from his ears, hear the squeaking of the rusty machinery. And he realized a split second before his friend did why that particular piece of information should have been locked away in its own special recess in his mind: Things really, truly, definitely, without a doubt not to let Weiss find out…
"You mean that was your first time! Seriously?" He perked up like a puppy being offered a treat, drool almost dribbling down his chin. If he had possessed a tail, there was no doubt that it would be wagging.
"Eric, please…" But every moment he bickered or tried to reason with his friend was another moment that Sydney was left alone. He had already let this conversation go much further than it should have, had already left Sydney alone long enough. To keep fighting was futile… "Yes."
"Dude! If I had known, I would have marked it on the calendar… sold tickets or something. You do know what a monumental occasion I've witnessed? You two go at it all the time and to think that I can say that I witnessed the first time…"
"No. You can't."
"No? Not even…"
"No." Hell no. No, period, end of sentence, no. No, not over my dead body. No, end of conversation. "Now I really have to go find Syd, and..."
"Want me to watch the kid for you so you can, you know…" Weiss winked suggestively, wiggling in an awful little dance.
Had Vaughn not been so worried about Sydney, he would have thought to make a smart comment, perhaps offering to pay his friend to never do that again. As it was, he rolled his eyes, letting that serve as his answer and mumbled a goodbye. He left the room then, Ilya still asleep on his shoulder.
A few minutes searching brought him to the door of the Ladies' Room. He had known the general direction, but it's not like he had ever had to know exactly where it was before, had ever wanted to venture inside. He stood in the hall for a handful of heartbeats, staring at the triangular stick figure on the blue sign before deciding that he didn't care what anyone would think and bursting through the door.
"Syd?"
There was no answer. A woman who had been exiting a stall gave a startled yelp, not caring that she had awakened Ilya and offering them both a dirty look as she quickly washed her hands and exited the room.
"Syd, baby…" he tried again, louder time and not a question. Because just as he knew that she was there, he knew that no one else was.
"Vaughn…" she answered quietly, his name coming out as a sigh before she regained her reason. "You shouldn't be in here."
"Are you okay?" he asked, ignoring what she had said and leaning against the outside of the last stall in the row, the one he would have known she was in even if he hadn't seen her shoes.
"Yeah," she answered, and the way she said it would have convinced anyone but him. "You should wait outside. I'll be out in a few minutes."
He shook his head, knowing that even though she couldn't see it, she sensed his response, would have insisted he listen to her if he hadn't opened his mouth first. "I'm not going anywhere, Syd."
Sydney gave in then, nodding, not wanting to risk opening her mouth as another wave of nausea hit her, threatening to overwhelm all her control.
Taking her silence as his answer, Vaughn put Ilya down, trusting that he wouldn't go anywhere, knowing that no one would try to take him now. The little boy sat obediently on the floor, face still red and stained with tears, but his eyes calm and trusting.
Vaughn turned his attention back to the stall door, leaning up against it as if his weight could force it open and lead him to the woman inside. In all the time he had known her, two whole years, she had had the occasional cold or cough, but this was the first time he had ever seen her really and truly sick. He wondered if it was just because she had never given in before, if this was the first time she had actually let the illness run its course as it should instead of biting it back.
His voice was a whisper, his words so sweet and gentle that they warmed her, brushed over her like silk, tasted as sweet as spun sugar on a sunny day; lasting only a few seconds, but somehow seeming to make the entire world better…
"Let me in, Syd…" He was as close as he could get to begging without actually being down on his knees, his words as soft as they could be and still be heard. "I can hold back your hair."
There was no response for a string of seconds, the chain of them lengthening steadily as her silence progressed, pessimism adding to doubt, linking to uncertainty and connecting with helplessness; all the links melting together with a spark of fear.
He couldn't see the tears that welled in her eyes at his words, sparkling in her eyelashes as she tried to keep them from spilling over. Sydney could honestly say without a doubt that no one had ever been as sweet to her as this man always was. Some had come close, but no one had ever been able to match it, no one ever would…
Vaughn waited a moment longer, his fingertips brushing against the lock just as she turned it. The door squeaking as he gently pushed it open, careful as ever not to hit her with it, and edged his way into the cramped stall, closing the door behind him to give them more room.
She stood in the corner, watching him with wide eyes as he approached her. Her face deathly pale, sweat glistening on her forehead. Regret hit him instantly, sorry that he had gotten her sick, that it had to hit her like this; would rather he had been the one to go to work when he had been ill rather than tucked comfortably in bed.
Tucking a few damp strands of hair back behind her ear, he let his fingers slide down, lingering on her neck. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the clammy skin of her forehead, letting them linger there for a moment until she pushed him away.
But he let go, stepping out of her way, bending over her and rubbing her back, holding her hair as he had said he would. When she finished, he flushed as she stood and smiled weakly, a hint of her usual sparkle finding its way back to her eyes.
"I shouldn't have had that coffee."
He smiled back, not telling her that three tiny sips did not count for anything, that she had hardly had any coffee at all, or, as far as he knew, anything to eat since lunch yesterday. Both of them knew it, leaving no need to give the words breath.
"Are you okay, Syd?" His words were simple, the same as before, his tone barely changed. His eyes added the Really… Please tell me the truth this time…
She nodded, pressing her forehead into his shoulder, fingering the buttons on his shirt as she mumbled into his chest, "I'm fine now."
And when she looked up at him, he could see that she was right, that some of the color had returned to her cheeks. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And he was willing to take all he could get.
"Let's get you home and into bed."
"Can we not go home right yet?" she asked, a trace of sadness lingering in her voice as he maneuvered both of them to open the door. "Maybe go for a walk fir… Vaughn!"
She had walked out in front of him, her eyes catching on Ilya and lighting up immediately, the way he loved. He woke up each morning hoping to see that breathtaking smile on her face, the genuine happiness in her eyes. Today he had succeeded. He could only hope that tomorrow he would too…
"How did you…?"
"Bahn!" the little boy cried, jumping up and running to him as he stepped out of the stall. The child linked his arms around his legs as he had before, but this time without the desperation and anxiety, this time not having to wait even a fraction of a second before getting the response he wanted.
"Like that," Vaughn answered with a laugh, scooping Ilya up into his arms.
Sydney didn't think there had ever been a moment when he looked so sexy, so irresistible, when she wanted so badly to kiss him, but couldn't, shouldn't, because well….
"I don't care, Syd," Vaughn whispered, putting an arm around her and pulling her close.
"Vau…"
But the rest of his name was cut off as he kissed her, lightly, sweetly, his mouth not opening to hers only because now was not the time to start anything that couldn't be finished, because he didn't want to tire her. A kiss not of passion, but one that would linger on her lips for years to come, for always and forever…
"Oh! I'm sorry, I…" Agent Lee appeared in the doorway, face flushing when she spotted the three of them, averting her eyes and holding a hand over them as she turned to leave.
"It's okay, Amy," Sydney assured her, and Vaughn marveled at the way she pulled the younger agent's first name out of thin air, was able to offer it in such a friendly way, to reassure someone she barely knew. "We were just leaving."
Vaughn knew he could have made the moment more comfortable by leaving the women alone, but couldn't bear to let Sydney out of his sight for even a moment. Sydney rinsed out her mouth in the sink and exchanged a few words with the young woman before they left.
Vaughn handed her a mint that he had found in his pocket, they went back to the briefing room to pick up the diaper bag, and walked out of the CIA building much the same way they had walked in. The only difference was that Vaughn somehow managed to juggle both Ilya and the diaper bag on one arm, while holding onto Sydney with the other. When she had tried to help, he had merely kissed her on the side of the head, refusing to either let go of her or give her anything to carry.
The three of them went for a quiet walk in the park, Sydney and Vaughn each holding one of Ilya's hands and letting the little boy's tiny footsteps set a leisurely pace. They talked of everything and nothing: the weather, the Kings, a book she had read…
Everything that didn't matter and nothing that did.
Sydney asked if they could stop at the pharmacy on the way home, saying almost embarrassedly that there was something she needed to pick up. He leaned over Ilya to kiss her, to tell her that she didn't need to ask. And conversation continued from there.
Neither of them spoke of what had occurred at work that morning, how they had defied authority and protocol once again in order to keep custody of the little boy (their little boy, he was so close to becoming). And neither of them mentioned how long they thought this might last, what all of it would amount to, how the story would end.
~~~
They spent the rest of the day relaxing as much as a couple with a small child can, doing absolutely nothing and ignoring the phone when it rang to at least keep up the pretense of vacation. Sydney tried to vacuum, but Vaughn wouldn't let her for two reasons: she was sick and he wanted her to rest, and he didn't trust himself to stay… composed while watching her maneuver the vacuum throughout the house.
That evening, they watched the Kings' game Vaughn had taped a few days ago. He lay on the couch with Sydney in his arms, her back flush against him, eyes ready to close, but fluttering open when she felt something against her cheek. Ilya's face was just inches from hers, his tiny fingers tapping against her skin.
"You want to come up?" she asked with a breathy laugh, unconsciously sending a jolt through Vaughn's body even as he concentrated on the game.
Ilya didn't answer, but Sydney pulled him up onto the couch anyway. She held onto him as he stood on the space between her and the edge of the couch, watching Vaughn, who was intent on the hockey game flickering before him. The child gazed at him for a moment before bringing a hand to his side.
"Bahn!"
Vaughn jumped as the little boy touched him, grabbing tightly onto Sydney and feeling her laughter shudder against him. But his startled gaze turned to a gorgeous smile when he heard the mixture of the little boy's voice and Sydney's laughter. She had seemed so preoccupied all day that she had barely smiled, even after they had returned from the CIA; to hear her laugh was like breathing fresh air for the first time in days.
"Hey buddy," Vaughn murmured, reaching up and sitting Ilya on top of him, his little feet thumping gently against Sydney's stomach. "Can you say 'Syd'?" he asked, ignoring the game and looking the little boy in the eye. "Syd."
"Bahn," Ilya answered. It was the one word they had ever heard the child speak, and he seemed intent on keeping it that way.
"Syd," Vaughn tried again, determined to get a correct answer, wanting to hear Sydney's name emerge from the child's lips.
"Bahn."
"Vaughn," Sydney interjected with a small smile, turning her head up so she could see him out of the corner of her eye.
"Syd," he responded teasingly before she had a chance to say anything else. But the laughter was gone from her eyes, a phantom fleeting so quickly that he almost began to wonder if it had been there at all.
"Bahn."
Sydney smiled at the child, turning her eyes to Vaughn's once more, her voice soft. "Vaughn, please. Can I…"
"Sure." He lifted Ilya and helped her stand, seating the little boy next to him on the couch. "You all right?"
"Yeah," she breathed. "I…" She looked like she was about to tell him something and he held his breath in waiting. Her glance moved from him to Ilya and back again. "I'll be right back."
He nodded, his breath coming out in a sigh. "I'll go put Ilya to bed."
She murmured her thanks, walking out of the room before him, ducking into their bedroom. He heard the door to their bathroom click shut as he carried Ilya to his room. Sure it still held the computer and their files, but in the past few days, Ilya's bedroom was what it had become; it almost seemed strange referring to the space as the office.
The child obediently let Vaughn change him, even trying to help by taking off his own socks. Vaughn marveled at this feat, offering praise over and over until he thought he saw a hint of a smile light up Ilya's face.
Whatever had been there, however, was quickly washed away with the clamoring of the phone. Busy with Ilya, Vaughn let it ring, and Sydney didn't pick up either. Whoever it was could call back.
"Ready to sleep, buddy?" Vaughn asked, laying Ilya in the crib and taking the little boy's wide eyes as an answer. "Well you're going to have to be good and close your eyes, because I have to take care of Syd. Here…" He handed Ilya the stuffed dinosaur, laughing softly as he snuggled up to it.
"Close your eyes, buddy," Vaughn murmured, running his fingers through the child's hair. But Ilya didn't obey. "Do you want me to sing to you?"
Vaughn didn't wait for a response, softly singing to the little boy, the words almost remembered this time, but still not quite. There would be time enough to learn it the next time, and all the times after that…
When the song finished, Ilya's eyes had already fluttered shut and he was sighing softly in his sleep. Vaughn whispered a goodnight to the child, flicking off the light as he left the room and heading out to the living room, where he could hear the hum of the hockey game. But Sydney wasn't there. Frowning, he turned the game off, silence resounding. He followed its echo through the house, letting it lead him into the bedroom. The bathroom door was still shut.
He approached the door quietly, leaning his forehead against it, listening for any noise within. Not a sound reached his waiting ears.
Strange how the same illness had hit them both so hard but in opposite ways. His own stomach had churned, but it had been the burning fever that had truly taken its toll on him. Sydney's fever had been slight, but…
A whisper forced its way harshly out of his throat, coming out more like a breath of air than his voice. "Syd?"
She didn't answer. Nothing moved in response. A thousand thoughts ran through his head; so many that he didn't even hear the phone ring, probably wouldn't have heard her if she had screamed from behind the door.
But he regained his composure, tapping lightly against the wood of the door with his knuckles, compelling his voice to be louder this time, to form into something that could waft its way through the door and be heard by the ears within. "Syd, baby?"
A soft thud found its way to his ears in response, the flushing of the toilet, the running water of the sink. And then the door was opening, her face millimeters from his own.
"Hi." The syllable was barely a whisper, hardly brushed against his ears. And then two more. "Sorry." She offered him a small smile, and he didn't know what she could be trying to apologize for.
He rested his forehead against hers, fingers lingering on her hips. "You okay?"
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's been a long couple of days."
It was his turn to nod this time. "Tired?" He asked it more to make conversation than anything else. He knew her answer.
"Yeah."
Without a word, he reached around her to click off the bathroom light, removing his fingers from her hips to take her hand, pulling her towards the dresser. Letting go, he reached into their pajama drawer, handing her some clothes.
"Don't you want to watch the rest of…?" she began, but he shushed her with a tender kiss, the sugary sweetness of it beginning to dribble away, quickly replaced with a passion so strong that even the two of them together could barely contain it.
Sydney didn't protest as his hands began to creep under her shirt and up her bare skin, taking the fabric with them. She shivered as the cold air hit her, surprised when his gentle hands left her body and were suddenly pulling a tank top over her head and smoothing it over her stomach.
"Vaughn…?"
"Sleep," was his answer.
But for the life of her, she couldn't think of what that word meant without the 'together' following it. She lunged at him, Vaughn luckily removing his shirt quick enough to catch her and keep them both balanced. He held her back, eyes penetrating, a hand running from her shoulder to her elbow and back again.
"Syd, baby, you're exhausted."
He knew it and so did she. But she had heard his sharp intake of breath as his skin collided with hers, knew that it hadn't been caused by the force of it knocking the wind out of him, could almost feel his skin tingling against hers.
"M-m… Vaughn…"
He didn't laugh, knowing she had tried, knowing, too, that some habits were hard to break, that she would get it someday. They had all the somedays in the world for her to try, and he was willing to give her all of them.
Vaughn held her tight against him, almost almost almost giving in. Almost wanting it more than she did, more than anything else. Almost letting that one thought seep so far into his mind that he wouldn't be able to control himself, his actions; wouldn't be able to resist tearing the shirt back off and…
But when she lifted her chin to look at him and he saw the dark circles under her eyes, the slight paleness that hadn't been completely erased from earlier. He remembered how she had been sick that day, how he had been sick before and she had taken such good care of her. He remembered how much he loved her.
"Let's go to sleep, Syd."
His words were like a lullaby, her head falling onto his shoulder as the strength suddenly crawled out from under her, exhaustion quickly slithering in to take its place. She agreed without a word or gesture, standing in his embrace for a moment longer before slipping from it and into bed.
Vaughn smiled as he crept in behind her, realizing that for the past few nights, she had given up the pretense of sleeping on her side of the bed and had gotten in on his. His arm snaked around her automatically, fingers resting against their place on her stomach, his lips finding the bare skin on her shoulder for one last goodnight kiss.
It wasn't until later, hours after each had thought the other had been lost to sleep, neither able to succumb themselves, that Vaughn felt Sydney take a shuddering breath, letting it hiss out slowly. He brought his hand up from her stomach to brush away the tears that had only just begun to trickle onto her cheek.
She took his hand in both of hers, kissing it lightly before threading his fingers through her own, her gesture speaking thanks when the word itself was wedged in her throat. He didn't ask her what was wrong, trusting her to tell him herself when the time was right; didn't realize that he should have asked, that she would have told him if he had…
Almost at the same instant, although neither of them knew it, they both nodded off to sleep. When they awoke the next morning, one just moments after the other, their fingers were still entwined, remaining that way even afterwards, as they spoke softly, their whispers interrupted, hands almost broken apart by the shrill, and by now loathed, ringing of the phone.
"Don't answer it."
