Chapter 4: All Snug in Their Beds

"Are you ready to give up yet?" Vaughn asked, standing over Sydney with a grin so huge it almost split his face in two.

"Give up? Never!" she exclaimed, rolling over and grabbing another handful of snow.

"Well that's too bad. I guess I'll just have to keep all the cocoa for myself then," he said nonchalantly as he headed toward the door of the cabin.

"Cocoa? Wait a minute!" she said, jumping to her feet.

"Yeah, I brought stuff to make cocoa, but you don't seem to want any... too bad, I was looking forward to sitting next to you in front of a warm fire drinking cocoa... I guess I'll just have to enjoy it alone."

"No, no you don't!" she insisted. "I'll share it with you!"

"Ah, but you know the conditions Sydney," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Conditions?" she said, feigning confusion. "I know of no conditions."

"If you want cocoa, you must repeat after me. I Sydney Bristow..."

"I Sydney Bristow..." she repeated, enjoying every minute of their game.

"Do admit without reservation or coercion..."

"Do admit without reservation or coercion..."

"That Michael Vaughn is the king of snowball fights..."

"That Michael Vaughn is the king of snowball fights..." she said with a grimace.

"And I am only a humble apprentice."

"Hey!" she said indignantly, drawing to a halt just outside the door.

"Did I mention I brought marshmallows?"

"All right all right... And I am only a humble apprentice," she said grudgingly.

"Good girl!" he said approvingly, holding the door open for her.

"Do I get a prize?" she asked slyly.

"Hm... what did you have in mind?" he asked, pulling her close.

"Oh, I think you've got a pretty good idea," she whispered, her mouth only inches from his.

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"Uh? Wha..." Sydney muttered, rolling over in her sleep. "Vaughn?" she mumbled, wrapping her arms around her spare pillow. "Hmm... wait, this is too cold to be Vaughn," she realized as she woke up.

"What a dream!" she said as she sat up in bed, taking in her surroundings and the snow that still covered the ground outside her window. "Too bad that'll never happen," she added as she lay back down, trying to get comfortable. "Oh well, maybe I'll dream something even better this time."

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"Drew, Lexi, what are you two up to?" Vaughn asked the two blonde children who were slowly approaching him from either side.

"Nothing Daddy," the little girl said innocently, keeping her hands behind her back.

"Drew?"

"We're not up to anything Daddy," he answered, managing to keep his face solemn.

"Really? Then I guess I should feel bad for this..." Vaughn said as he quickly bent over, forming two snowballs and launching them in quick succession at his children.

"Daddy!" they squealed in unison, throwing their hands up and dropping the snowballs they were holding.

"Oh, you weren't so innocent after all," Vaughn declared haughtily, pointing to the snowballs on the ground.

"It was Lexi's idea Daddy," Drew insisted, pointing a chubby finger at his twin sister.

"Nuh-uh Drew! You said Daddy would never 'spect us!" Lexi reminded him.

"Well you two munchkins know what the penalty is for trying to throw a snowball at Daddy, don't you?"

"Noooooooooo!" they both screamed, running as fast as their little legs would carry them.

They couldn't outrun their father though, and pretty soon the three of them were a pile of giggling bodies, squirming on the ground. "Do you admit that no one can win a snowball fight against Daddy?" Vaughn asked, tickling them both mercilessly.

"Yes! Yes!!" they both said, gasping for air as they laughed.

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Michael Vaughn woke up, a wide smile crossing his face. That was hands down the best dream he'd had in a while. He'd always wanted children... he'd wanted children with Sydney.

His smile faded when he remembered why he hadn't had dreams like that lately. First Sydney had died, and then when she came back he was married to someone else. He didn't always succeed, but he tried to repress all the hopes and dreams he'd had of being with Sydney. It wasn't fair to his wife.

Feeling himself start to slip into a mild depression, he rose quietly from the bed, trying not to disturb Lauren as he pulled on a pair of sweats and wandered down into the living room, shivering against the chill. After turning on the radiant heat and the Christmas tree lights, he crossed the room to stand by the window.

As he watched the moonlight reflect off the new-fallen snow, he tried to pin down what it was that disturbed him so much about this dream. It wasn't that he'd never dreamt about being with Sydney again; sometimes it seemed like that was all he did dream about. Something about this one was different though.

"The twins were so cute," he said, a slight smile crossing his face as he remembered the tow-headed children he'd wrestled with. He'd had white- blonde hair as a child himself, so that wasn't surprising. And they'd had their mother's brown eyes and dimples...

He stopped when he realized this was what was bothering him. "I never saw their mother. I don't know if it was Sydney or Lauren," he groaned, resting his face against the glass. "But that's not what hurts the most. I've always wanted to have children, but never once have I pictured Lauren as their mother."

Michael Vaughn stared out the window, realizing that yet another dream had vanished. As he mourned the loss of those beautiful children—his Drew and Lexi—a solitary tear rolled down his face.

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"Run, run, as fast as you can

You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!"

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Lauren awoke with a start, those words echoing in her mind. "What a strange dream," she thought. "Why on earth would I be chasing my own husband, and why would I dream of him as the Gingerbread Man?" she wondered as she reached across the bed for her husband.

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement when she felt only cold sheets. Michael was up, and had been for a while, but why? Tossing the covers aside, she grabbed her robe and crept quietly down the stairs, following the faint glow coming from the living room.

What she saw when she peered around the door put a lump in her throat. Her husband—her rock—was staring out at the fresh snow, a single tear track visible in the light coming from the Christmas tree.

Coming to a quick decision, she slipped back up the stairs. "I can't let him know I saw him like that," she realized before turning around to go back down. "Michael!" she called out. "Where are you?"

By the time she reached the living room again, the tear had been wiped from his face and he was sitting on the couch, watching television. "There you are Michael," she said. "I woke up and you weren't in bed. Are you going to come back up?"

"No... I had a dream, that's what woke me up." he said, staring at the screen.

"Oh, a nightmare?" she asked, giving him a sympathetic look when he glanced over at her.

"No," he thought, averting his eyes again, "it was wonderful. I'm afraid if I have it again I'll never want to wake up." "Yeah, something like that," he said aloud.

Lauren realized he wasn't meeting her gaze and knew he was lying, but why? Why would he lie about having a nightmare... unless he didn't want her to realize how much he wanted the dream to come true. She stared at him for a moment, willing him to give her some sign, any sign, that this was not the case.

Despite the noise from the early morning talk show, the silence between husband and wife was palpable. The knot that had started in her stomach as she'd watched the snowball fight expanded until she thought she'd throw up. Finally she looked away, not wanting him to see the bitter reality that was finally settling across her features. "I think I'll go back to bed, I'll see you in the morning," she said brusquely, not waiting for a response as she swept up the stairs.