Title: It Goes On
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." - Robert Frost Twenty years post "The Telling"; Surviving the worse case scenario.
Authors Note: There's a reference in this to how they met twenty four years ago. It's basically canon that they met 10-1-2001. I've worked out my own little mini-timeline (the way I see it, JJ isn't grasping real time anymore - why do I have to?) to suit the story. Syd disappeared summer '03, they'd known eachother roughly two years and then she disappeared for another two, reappeared spring '05. The story starts November 2025. Thus, twenty four years after they met.
Oh, yeah. I think I'm showing my age w/ the song lyrics, but Third Eye Blind's "Blinded" would be recommended listening for this chapter, if you're so inclined.
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~*Just an old friend coming over now to visit you and
That's what I've become
I let myself in though I know I'm not supposed to but
I never know when I'm done*~ Third Eye Blind, "Blinded (When I See You)"
Just weeks away from his fifty-seventh birthday, Michael Vaughn was starting to suspect that he was getting too old for the world of international espionage. It had been years since he'd been in the field, mostly of his own choosing. The ultimate goal, the goal he'd set his sights on early on in his career, had been met decades before. The Alliance was gone, SD-6 was destroyed, and eventually, Arvin Sloane was as well. Most importantly, the unspoken career goal that could only be read in his eyes, Sydney Bristow was free.
Up until a few years earlier, Sydney Bristow was not completely eradicated from his world. Will Tippin spoke fondly of her and often, as did Marshall and Dixon. Even Carrie would stop by and mention her once in awhile. Still, it had been Jack Bristow who had been his key; he was the one with pictures of Sydney, and later Claire, in his office, allowing him to occasionally pop his head in and see how she was doing. Pictures spoke more than words ever could. He watched as the natural gray highlights appeared, and as the wrinkles slowly emerged on her beautiful face. Even into her seventies, Irina Derevko was an attractive, albeit evil, woman. That was one quality her daughter and subsequently her granddaughter, had inherited, sans the self-serving agenda.
Sydney's decision to leave the CIA was justifiable and certainly understandable. Sometimes he still blamed himself for not stopping her, for not somehow keeping her in the L.A. area. There had been nothing to say and certainly nothing to do. Their exchanges since her return had been mostly brief and chilly. His wife was towards the end of a difficult pregnancy when she made her final departure, and he doubted she would have listened to any case he might have tried to plead.
Despite all of that, she was never particularly far from his mind. Not that he could have put her there if he wanted to. Will, Dixon, Marshall... Every part of the life she had left behind still surrounded him every day. Just because she hadn't made contact with him didn't mean he hadn't known what she was doing or how she was doing. Sydney Bristow, despite the well-hidden animosity she likely felt towards him, was unforgettable. He loved Kate, and he had done his best to stick by the promise he made and make a life with her, but there was a part of him that she could never touch and would never see. Still, he had loved her, had for the most part, enjoyed their time together. Plus, she had been there. In his late thirties, he'd been anxious to marry and start a family, already passed the age at which his own father died. If things had been different, if Arvin Sloane hadn't stepped in and collectively ruined yet another life, he was certain there would have been a different woman with the title of Mrs. Michael Vaughn.
They had been married for nearly a year and a half when Alexandra was born; right around the time Sydney Bristow disappeared from his life. Kate was a relatively good woman, who had probably shared his over eagerness to get married and start a family. When they first got together, Sydney had been gone for over a year, and she had been declared dead for months. The first of many hits their marriage took was when Sydney reappeared. In more than one way, his hands were tied between his loyalty to his wife, and what had always been a steadfast devotion to his former asset. When she left, the troubles with his marriage didn't.
Kate had left him over a year and a half ago. They'd been married just over nineteen years, and Alexandra was a senior in high school. His soon to be ex-wife had stayed in California just long enough for their daughter to finish high school before relocating to her native Arizona. A few months later his daughter started at the University of Arizona, where she was a sophomore with biochemistry as a major. Now alone, he found work consuming more and more of his time. Weiss had made valiant attempts to draw him out of the office, to set him up on dates from around the office, even introducing him to a few of his wife's friends. No one caught his eye or his heart, and at his age, he was frustrated with settling.
When he'd put the keys into his ignition nearly a day before, he'd intended on heading east to Arizona. An hour into his travels, he'd realized that he wasn't needed and was likely unwanted in the area. Somehow, instead of Tuscon, Arizona he ended up driving to Trinidad, California, remembering it from the one trip he'd made over a decade earlier. What surprised him was not the ease at which he drove the long stretch of US Highway 101, cruising along the Pacific Ocean, but how easily he remembered her address. Even with the unusual glances the locals shot him as he drove down what was seemingly the only main street in town, he was surprised at how comfortable he felt. Somehow he doubted the feeling would remain for long once he reached his destination.
There was a Jeep in the driveway when he pulled the rented sedan in front of the home. It was cute, white with light blue trimming. Aged, without being downright old. A Stanford Cardinals flag hung off of the bracket in the front, and a white picket fence surrounded the backyard. When no one answered in the front, he let himself around the back, getting comfortable on the concrete steps. Only then, as he sat there studying the flowers of various colors and shapes that bordered the large space, did he worry that this might not have been such a good idea.
Michael Vaughn suspected that Sydney Bristow no longer had him on her list of favorite people. Momentarily, he considered that perhaps he had even been added to her 'injure and maim' list before deciding against it. There was no one to fault for his fall from her graces except himself. Nothing and no one had ever come realistically close to inducing the feelings in him that she had. They were feelings she'd always caused in him; feelings that he had been so sure would go away once he had her. Or at least tamper away with time. Instead, they'd only intensified, and when she'd disappeared twenty-two years ago, he'd been within hours of making it permanent.
The trouble with Sydney was that he couldn't rid himself of her, not even two decades after she began shutting him out of her life. Truth be told, he didn't want to completely rid himself of her. Something about her had implanted itself deep within him, and had affected the man he was. In the end, he found himself liking himself better after he knew her than before. Unintentionally, Sydney Bristow had made a whirlwind in his life, creating an unparalleled affect on the person he was. For a short period of time, she had seen him as the person he'd always wanted to be, sharing with him the life he'd always wanted. You could strip him of that, but no one but Sydney could replace it.
No logic could explain why he'd ended up there, on Sydney Bristow's back stoop, anxiously waiting to see her. Panic raced through his mind at the off possibility that perhaps she was living with someone, even married, and the news hadn't traveled back to him. Over twenty years, the grapevine that connected him to her had slowly disintegrated. Still, it seemed unlikely. Surely Will, or even Marshall would have sputtered something about that. She would not have wed without Will there, and certainly not without Jack Bristow either, despite the tensions that would always remain between the two.
So he found himself pacing the crevices of his mind as he waited. Surely she would wonder why he was there. When he told her, Vaughn knew he could expect the appropriate sympathy. Sydney was, by nature, a compassionate person. If she hadn't been, she could have just as easily let SD-6 deceive and rot away at otherwise good people. Perhaps she wouldn't even ask. Instead, she'd call the police and have him escorted off her property, but he knew that didn't fit her character. No police would be necessary; Sydney could certainly escort his sorry ass off her property without assistance.
Maybe she'd display an understanding that was only seen in his fantasies. In his mind, she'd welcome him back into her life in a manner that he hadn't known for over two decades. There would be no worry or concern of his daughter or hers; of the job he'd left behind, of the pain and misunderstanding that spread across nearly half their lives. Even as he sat there, he was determined. Far too much time had passed without understanding, without forgiveness, without a simple touch. Whether the outcome of this impromptu journey was one he envisioned, something torn from his nightmares, or whether it rested somewhere in between, he would walk away this time with no regrets.
Although time had passed, his ears had easily picked up on the steady, even fall of her feet against the pavement. Moments later, the latch clicked and the white fence squeaked open. Remaining where he was, he studied his hands as his elbows rested on his knees, hoping he'd brought enough money for whatever bail the Trinidad police would want when Sydney stuck him in jail.
Judging by the way she'd entered her own yard, she'd been expecting a predator. Then when she saw him, she immediately stopped, causing the heavy set Yorkshire Terrier she was walking to nearly collide into her legs. Her hair was curled as she had styled it in the first days of their relationship, along with numerous strands of natural gray that was shuffled into her chestnut locks. The jeans hugged her still attractive figure, including a few curves he suspected she had received after giving birth. Light wrinkles did nothing to diminish her face, or to take away from the deep set of her eyes. Without question, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered.
With a trained eye, he noted that she swallowed back whatever anxiety she was certainly feeling, and pulled her hair back behind her ear, wearing a poker face to challenge the best of them. Finally she discovered her voice, the word escaping from her was spoken low and was as important to her as that of her own child. "Vaughn."
Once upon a time he would have quickly sprang to his feet, but his joints were no longer that cooperative. Sometimes he felt his joints crack and occasionally even heard them hiss if he moved too quickly. Instead, he moved with a patience that fit his years of life experience, slowly pulling to his feet. Swiftly he wiped the underside of his nose, his hands in his pockets as he looked at everything but her eyes. "Hey Syd."
Although he'd never admit it aloud, he'd spent hours trying to predict her reaction. The silence, however, had not been what he'd anticipated. Under his careful scrutiny, he swore he could watch the wheels turn in her mind as the tears pooled in front of her brown eyes. Bringing her free hand up, she quickly wiped them from under her eyes, unaware that she had smudged her mascara in the process. "Vaughn," she spoke again, this time eliciting a heavy sigh after. Standing in front of him, searching her vast vocabulary for some appropriate response, she wondered why this hurt so much, and how it could still manage to feel so right after two decades and a lifetime worth of regrets. "How are you?" she asked, wondering if the question sounded as absurd to him as it suddenly did to her.
"I'm okay," he replied, with a voice still hoarse from nearly a day's worth of non-use. "I let myself in," he pointed out the obvious as she nodded. "I saw your car..."
"I was walking Gehrig," she softly explained, tugging at the dog's leash. "Do you have time? I was going to make some coffee."
"Coffee would be nice," he nodded. For a moment she remained stationary, studying him before she pulled the dog's leash, Gehrig faithfully trailing his mistress as she started up the stairs. As she passed, Vaughn noted how her arm seem to stiffen after briefly touching his, easily letting him into her kitchen.
Decorated with dark wooden cabinets, it was a sufficient kitchen, although the once modern appliances were now beginning to show their age. The kitchen table was pushed up against the two windows overlooking the driveway that Sydney shared with Georgia, and was devoid of anything sans a purple vase of fresh flowers. Unleashing the dog, she silently motioned for him to take a seat as she began to prepare coffee, the tension as obvious in her shoulders as it was on his face. Even with the discomfort, his eyes stayed on her, watching as she flicked on the coffee pot. Gracefully, she moved around the small but tidy kitchen, pulling out what was necessary.
"May I use your bathroom?" he finally broke the silence, notably catching her off guard. Tossing him a look over her shoulder, she nodded.
"Sure," she agreed. "It's right there," Sydney explained, pointing to a dark wooden door just off the left of the kitchen. Flashing her a smile of gratitude, he disappeared behind the door. Once he was out of her sight, she heaved a heavy sigh of relief, willing the coffee pot to brew faster. There certainly was a reason for his arrival, she was positive of that, but her mind was bare of any legitimate possibility. Still, when she'd seen the worry lines around his eyes, her heart had reached out for him. Just as her mind had unwillingly jumped to possibilities of 'what if', despite her happiness with her current life situation, when she noticed that the wedding band that had hung in her mind for years, was gone.
"Would you like something to eat?" she offered as the bathroom door swung open and he stepped out.
Vaughn shook his head and muttered a 'no thank you' as she grabbed the two coffee cups. Trailing a step behind him, she was setting the coffee on the table, with him halfway into the kitchen chair when something caught his eye and caused him to stop. Confused, she turned to follow his gaze, landing on her refrigerator. The surface had been a cornucopia since she arrived in Trinidad, especially since Claire's birth. Even though her daughter was away at college, it was still covered in pictures and papers held down by colorful magnets, depicting places they'd gone or bearing amusing quotes. Along the side of the refrigerator, in colorful letter magnets, her daughter had even carefully spelt out 'Go Cardinals'. Although the surface was busy, it was obvious to her what had caused Vaughn to react.
Across from a picture of Sydney and Claire at her high school graduation was another recent picture. Wearing a smile and a slight crimson color in her cheeks, Sydney stood next to a handsome, but slightly older man. The man was tall, the top of her head barely touching his shoulder. His hair reminded her of the sky at midnight and his eyes were the bluest she'd ever seen up close. His Italian blood made him tan nearly year-round, although in the photo he was slightly burnt from too many hours on the golf course. The grin on his face was just as wide as her own as they stood in his classroom, a framed and matted photo of a Hawaiian golf course behind them. Sydney clearly remembered the day Claire had insisted on taking the photo, nearly six months ago, and it had remained on her refrigerator since it returned from the developer.
Softly she released a sigh, turning to face him as he fell back into the seat. Twenty years and an eighteen year old daughter later, she wondered why the guilt suddenly reappeared, and why she was the one carrying it. The kitchen chair scraped loudly over the tile as she sank into the chair next to him and met his green eyes. "His name is Peter," she explained. "He was one of Claire's teachers during her sophomore year. We've been friends since then," Sydney pressed on. Then her voice dropped a hint lower as she added, "It's nothing serious, but we've been seeing one another since March."
Vaughn nodded and took a sip of coffee, nearly relieved to feel it burn the top of his tongue. Momentarily, it seemed appropriate to say he was happy for her, but in truth, he wasn't. As egotistical and logically wrong as he knew it to be, he would never be happy to see Sydney Bristow with another man, regardless of his own circumstances. From the moment her eyes had locked with his twenty-four years, she had been his girl, and he detested any man who even had the opportunity to give her a look-over. Resting the mug back against the Windexed surface of the kitchen table, he swallowed the remainder of the painful liquid and finally spoke. "You look good Syd."
The smile that she sent him didn't quite reach her eyes and didn't have the joy that she had carried in the photo with Peter. Slowly, it disappeared as she looked at the caramel colored liquid that floated in her mug. "I've heard about how you've been doing. In the agency. My dad would tell me, or Will, sometimes even Marshall," she grinned as she thought of the still-anxious technology whiz, who had more enthusiasm than all three of his children combined. "You've done good work Vaughn. It's amazing what you accomplished," she complimented, a brief ember of pride flickering in her brown eyes.
"I never would have made it this far without you."
Under his trained scrutiny, her head shook and her smile again disappeared. "You would have made it with or without me. If you remember, I'm the reason you almost died. Twice," she recalled, her eyes not meeting his as her voice cracked.
"You saved my life."
"You wouldn't have needed to be saved if I hadn't gotten us in trouble..." she grinned and shook her head. Her slender hand reached up to pull hair off of her face, her grin growing as she looked up at him. "It's a miracle that the agency didn't fire us a long time ago, isn't it?"
"We did good work together Syd," he smiled softly. For whatever reason, his honest comment caused her to go somber again and he wondered what it would take to keep the smile on her face.
Instead of gazing at him, she took a sip of her coffee and then studied the mug as she cradled it between her hands. "Why are you here Vaughn? This isn't exactly a casual drive up coast from L.A."
"They offered me Devlin's job," Vaughn confessed, as her brown eyes gazed across his, the surprise evident. Intentionally dropping his voice, he added, "I've missed you Syd."
"Vaughn..." she dragged his name out over a sigh. "Can you still really miss someone after eighteen years?" she quietly asked. The only answer he had was a silent shrug. Although he'd stopped mourning her years ago, the grief still lingered, along with the ache that he felt whenever he thought of her. Finally, she whispered the words he'd only dreamed of hearing, "I've missed you too Vaughn. A lot," she confessed, a smile hinting at the corners of her lips. "Sometimes more than others, but I have missed you," she quietly concluded. For a few minutes she let that hang in the air, daring to look up at him, smiling at the nearly goofy grin he had directed at her. As all good things must, her smile vanished as he watched her brown eyes grow serious. "You said you were offered Devlin's job. Are you going to take it?"
That was just one of the many questions that had plagued him on what he had intended to be a mind-clearing trip. Instead, he'd arrived at a different destination, confronting head-on, a demon that he had been quietly battling for years. The easy answer would have been yes, of course he was going to take the job. The previous month had marked his thirty first year with the agency; after such a long tenure it would have been insane to say no to what most agents considered the ultimate goal. Yet, he hadn't even been in the agency for a decade when he'd grown sick of company politics, of beauracratic nonsense, and had always acted accordingly. Needless to say, he hadn't even been aware that he'd been on the shortlist of candidates to take over the position, nevermind the forerunner.
"You'd be good at it," she softly complimented. At his skeptical glance, she continued, "You'd do what was in the best interest of the country."
"I don't know," he sighed, blowing on his coffee before taking another sip of the liquid. Quietly he explained, "My father would have taken the job. Without even thinking about it. If the agency wanted it, he would have done it, whether he really wanted to or not."
"Vaughn," she quietly spoke, taking a moment to consider her response. "You can't take this job just because your father would have. Of course your father wanted what was best for the country, for the CIA, but he would have wanted what was best for you first."
"I've been doing this for thirty one years Syd," he reminded her, his voice low and hoarse. "If I don't take this job, what the hell have I been working for?"
Leaning against the table, her warmth drawing closer to his, Sydney answered. "You're not like Haladki or Davenport or half the other idiots you work with," she reminded him as his lips quirked. His eyes lowered as she continued, "You didn't join the CIA so you could retire as director, you joined..."
"I joined for my father," he supplied the words she was too cautious to speak, meeting her eyes. "I joined for my father."
"Your goal was never to be director," she remembered.
"No," he shook his head, his eyebrow rose as he sipped his coffee. The mug banged softly against the surface of the table as he set it down. "I did this to bring down the Alliance and find my father's killer," he recalled as her eyes dipped from his. "Sydney," he gently hugged her name, capturing her eyes before she could look away.
"My mother killed your father Vaughn, she's still alive and he's not," she harshly whispered.
"Nothing either of us can do will ever change that," he protested. Shaking her head, she stood and walked to the coffee pot, her back to him as she let out a heavy sigh.
"How can you not let this upset you?" Sydney asked, her figure still away from him as he stood.
"Of course it upsets me Syd, but it's not you and it's not me. It's our parents. I found out who my father's killer was; that was something I never thought possible. I've looked her straight in the eye Syd, I've even had opportunities to take her life, but I never did," he pointed out. When she turned to face him, standing a few scant feet from him in the compact kitchen, his eyes were serious as he continued. "I didn't kill her, and I don't regret it. Killing her would have made me no better than she is. If we spent our time letting that eat us alive, they would have won, and neither one of us wants that to happen."
The phone rang in the tiny home before she could even consider her response. With a quick glance at the clock, she was certain of who it was before she even eyed the caller identification box. Apologetically she turned to look at Vaughn, who was slowly sinking back into his chair. "It's Claire, I should go take this," she realized. Silently he agreed as she grabbed the cordless phone and slipped into the family room. "Hello?" she finally answered, moments before the voicemail would have kicked in.
"Hey Mom," Claire's friendly voice popped in to her ear. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing," she sighed tiredly. "Gehrig's eating dinner, I walked him. Thinking about making dinner for myself..."
"How was work?"
"Fine. Over now."
A few hundred miles away her daughter laughed and Sydney couldn't help but smile. "That bad, huh?"
"I've had better days," Sydney agreed. "Did you eat dinner?"
"Yes Mom," she promised. Without missing a beat, her tone turned from jovial to slightly concerned as she continued her half of the conversation. "Are you okay? You sound sort of weird."
"No, I'm fine sweetie. I just have some company over, that's all."
"I'm so sorry Mom! I didn't realize that you had Peter over -"
"It's not Peter and it wasn't planned sweetheart, you didn't interrupt anything," her mother quickly promised. "I should go though. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Okay. Get some sleep Mom, and I hope you have a better day tomorrow."
"Thanks sweetheart, you too. I love you."
"Love you too Mom," Claire promised as the call disconnected. Turning off the phone, Sydney stared at the buttons for a few moments before she slowly stood off of the couch and re-entered the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, setting the phone back on the charger.
"How's Claire?" he asked pleasantly as she once again joined him at the table.
"Good. She usually calls around this time most nights. We check in... I think she uses the call as a tactic to delay doing homework," Sydney considered, as they both laughed.
"She's in college now?"
"A freshman," her head nodded slightly. "She's studying economics at Stanford."
"Stanford? Why didn't she go to Humboldt?"
"Stanford offered her an athletic scholarship. Plus, I don't think she wanted to spend her college years being referred to as Professor Bristow's daughter," she explained, sipping her coffee as he nodded.
"What does she play?"
"Field hockey," she confessed, as he grinned. "Goalie, actually. She's good, very quick reflexes."
"She must be very good, the Cardinals have a good athletic program," he mused.
Mindful of polite conversation, she replied with a similar question, "How's your daughter?"
"I'm assuming Alexandra is okay," Vaughn sighed and sipped his coffee. At her obviously confused _expression, he began to clarify. "She's nineteen now, she doesn't make a daily ritual out of calling me," he explained.
"They're teenagers, we're no longer cool," she reminded him with a slight smirk. Seconds later they both laughed before he continued.
"She's a sophomore at the University of Arizona now, she's studying biochemistry."
"Arizona?" She was obviously surprised as he nodded. "Why didn't she stay in California?"
"Kate moved back to Arizona after the divorce." He looked away as she nodded, the two slipping into a foreign silence. Silently, the ceiling fan pushed air throughout the room as Gehrig tugged his blanket out from under the baker's rack and sank down onto it.
"I'm sorry," she finally spoke, breaking the silence. Of course she was sorry, no divorce was easy. Will had been torn to shreds after his own divorce, and while it was amicable, it was still among the most painful times of his life. The type of pain she'd seen him suffer was a type she'd never wish upon anyone, especially someone she cared about.
Vaughn shook his head and quietly protested, "Don't be. It's been awhile now... It just wasn't working anymore. It hadn't been for awhile," he quietly confessed. In her seat Sydney remained silent, her eyes glued to the remains of her lukewarm coffee as she nodded.
Finally, she met his eyes, her hands wrapped around the mug of coffee. "Why are you really here Vaughn?" she softly inquired. "You didn't need me to talk to you about becoming director – Will, or even Dixon or Marshall could have helped you just as easily. And I'm assuming you didn't make a seventeen hour drive just to talk about Claire and Alexandra," she pointed out. Repeating the question, her eyes were serious and her tone was somber, "Why are you here?"
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." - Robert Frost Twenty years post "The Telling"; Surviving the worse case scenario.
Authors Note: There's a reference in this to how they met twenty four years ago. It's basically canon that they met 10-1-2001. I've worked out my own little mini-timeline (the way I see it, JJ isn't grasping real time anymore - why do I have to?) to suit the story. Syd disappeared summer '03, they'd known eachother roughly two years and then she disappeared for another two, reappeared spring '05. The story starts November 2025. Thus, twenty four years after they met.
Oh, yeah. I think I'm showing my age w/ the song lyrics, but Third Eye Blind's "Blinded" would be recommended listening for this chapter, if you're so inclined.
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~*Just an old friend coming over now to visit you and
That's what I've become
I let myself in though I know I'm not supposed to but
I never know when I'm done*~ Third Eye Blind, "Blinded (When I See You)"
Just weeks away from his fifty-seventh birthday, Michael Vaughn was starting to suspect that he was getting too old for the world of international espionage. It had been years since he'd been in the field, mostly of his own choosing. The ultimate goal, the goal he'd set his sights on early on in his career, had been met decades before. The Alliance was gone, SD-6 was destroyed, and eventually, Arvin Sloane was as well. Most importantly, the unspoken career goal that could only be read in his eyes, Sydney Bristow was free.
Up until a few years earlier, Sydney Bristow was not completely eradicated from his world. Will Tippin spoke fondly of her and often, as did Marshall and Dixon. Even Carrie would stop by and mention her once in awhile. Still, it had been Jack Bristow who had been his key; he was the one with pictures of Sydney, and later Claire, in his office, allowing him to occasionally pop his head in and see how she was doing. Pictures spoke more than words ever could. He watched as the natural gray highlights appeared, and as the wrinkles slowly emerged on her beautiful face. Even into her seventies, Irina Derevko was an attractive, albeit evil, woman. That was one quality her daughter and subsequently her granddaughter, had inherited, sans the self-serving agenda.
Sydney's decision to leave the CIA was justifiable and certainly understandable. Sometimes he still blamed himself for not stopping her, for not somehow keeping her in the L.A. area. There had been nothing to say and certainly nothing to do. Their exchanges since her return had been mostly brief and chilly. His wife was towards the end of a difficult pregnancy when she made her final departure, and he doubted she would have listened to any case he might have tried to plead.
Despite all of that, she was never particularly far from his mind. Not that he could have put her there if he wanted to. Will, Dixon, Marshall... Every part of the life she had left behind still surrounded him every day. Just because she hadn't made contact with him didn't mean he hadn't known what she was doing or how she was doing. Sydney Bristow, despite the well-hidden animosity she likely felt towards him, was unforgettable. He loved Kate, and he had done his best to stick by the promise he made and make a life with her, but there was a part of him that she could never touch and would never see. Still, he had loved her, had for the most part, enjoyed their time together. Plus, she had been there. In his late thirties, he'd been anxious to marry and start a family, already passed the age at which his own father died. If things had been different, if Arvin Sloane hadn't stepped in and collectively ruined yet another life, he was certain there would have been a different woman with the title of Mrs. Michael Vaughn.
They had been married for nearly a year and a half when Alexandra was born; right around the time Sydney Bristow disappeared from his life. Kate was a relatively good woman, who had probably shared his over eagerness to get married and start a family. When they first got together, Sydney had been gone for over a year, and she had been declared dead for months. The first of many hits their marriage took was when Sydney reappeared. In more than one way, his hands were tied between his loyalty to his wife, and what had always been a steadfast devotion to his former asset. When she left, the troubles with his marriage didn't.
Kate had left him over a year and a half ago. They'd been married just over nineteen years, and Alexandra was a senior in high school. His soon to be ex-wife had stayed in California just long enough for their daughter to finish high school before relocating to her native Arizona. A few months later his daughter started at the University of Arizona, where she was a sophomore with biochemistry as a major. Now alone, he found work consuming more and more of his time. Weiss had made valiant attempts to draw him out of the office, to set him up on dates from around the office, even introducing him to a few of his wife's friends. No one caught his eye or his heart, and at his age, he was frustrated with settling.
When he'd put the keys into his ignition nearly a day before, he'd intended on heading east to Arizona. An hour into his travels, he'd realized that he wasn't needed and was likely unwanted in the area. Somehow, instead of Tuscon, Arizona he ended up driving to Trinidad, California, remembering it from the one trip he'd made over a decade earlier. What surprised him was not the ease at which he drove the long stretch of US Highway 101, cruising along the Pacific Ocean, but how easily he remembered her address. Even with the unusual glances the locals shot him as he drove down what was seemingly the only main street in town, he was surprised at how comfortable he felt. Somehow he doubted the feeling would remain for long once he reached his destination.
There was a Jeep in the driveway when he pulled the rented sedan in front of the home. It was cute, white with light blue trimming. Aged, without being downright old. A Stanford Cardinals flag hung off of the bracket in the front, and a white picket fence surrounded the backyard. When no one answered in the front, he let himself around the back, getting comfortable on the concrete steps. Only then, as he sat there studying the flowers of various colors and shapes that bordered the large space, did he worry that this might not have been such a good idea.
Michael Vaughn suspected that Sydney Bristow no longer had him on her list of favorite people. Momentarily, he considered that perhaps he had even been added to her 'injure and maim' list before deciding against it. There was no one to fault for his fall from her graces except himself. Nothing and no one had ever come realistically close to inducing the feelings in him that she had. They were feelings she'd always caused in him; feelings that he had been so sure would go away once he had her. Or at least tamper away with time. Instead, they'd only intensified, and when she'd disappeared twenty-two years ago, he'd been within hours of making it permanent.
The trouble with Sydney was that he couldn't rid himself of her, not even two decades after she began shutting him out of her life. Truth be told, he didn't want to completely rid himself of her. Something about her had implanted itself deep within him, and had affected the man he was. In the end, he found himself liking himself better after he knew her than before. Unintentionally, Sydney Bristow had made a whirlwind in his life, creating an unparalleled affect on the person he was. For a short period of time, she had seen him as the person he'd always wanted to be, sharing with him the life he'd always wanted. You could strip him of that, but no one but Sydney could replace it.
No logic could explain why he'd ended up there, on Sydney Bristow's back stoop, anxiously waiting to see her. Panic raced through his mind at the off possibility that perhaps she was living with someone, even married, and the news hadn't traveled back to him. Over twenty years, the grapevine that connected him to her had slowly disintegrated. Still, it seemed unlikely. Surely Will, or even Marshall would have sputtered something about that. She would not have wed without Will there, and certainly not without Jack Bristow either, despite the tensions that would always remain between the two.
So he found himself pacing the crevices of his mind as he waited. Surely she would wonder why he was there. When he told her, Vaughn knew he could expect the appropriate sympathy. Sydney was, by nature, a compassionate person. If she hadn't been, she could have just as easily let SD-6 deceive and rot away at otherwise good people. Perhaps she wouldn't even ask. Instead, she'd call the police and have him escorted off her property, but he knew that didn't fit her character. No police would be necessary; Sydney could certainly escort his sorry ass off her property without assistance.
Maybe she'd display an understanding that was only seen in his fantasies. In his mind, she'd welcome him back into her life in a manner that he hadn't known for over two decades. There would be no worry or concern of his daughter or hers; of the job he'd left behind, of the pain and misunderstanding that spread across nearly half their lives. Even as he sat there, he was determined. Far too much time had passed without understanding, without forgiveness, without a simple touch. Whether the outcome of this impromptu journey was one he envisioned, something torn from his nightmares, or whether it rested somewhere in between, he would walk away this time with no regrets.
Although time had passed, his ears had easily picked up on the steady, even fall of her feet against the pavement. Moments later, the latch clicked and the white fence squeaked open. Remaining where he was, he studied his hands as his elbows rested on his knees, hoping he'd brought enough money for whatever bail the Trinidad police would want when Sydney stuck him in jail.
Judging by the way she'd entered her own yard, she'd been expecting a predator. Then when she saw him, she immediately stopped, causing the heavy set Yorkshire Terrier she was walking to nearly collide into her legs. Her hair was curled as she had styled it in the first days of their relationship, along with numerous strands of natural gray that was shuffled into her chestnut locks. The jeans hugged her still attractive figure, including a few curves he suspected she had received after giving birth. Light wrinkles did nothing to diminish her face, or to take away from the deep set of her eyes. Without question, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered.
With a trained eye, he noted that she swallowed back whatever anxiety she was certainly feeling, and pulled her hair back behind her ear, wearing a poker face to challenge the best of them. Finally she discovered her voice, the word escaping from her was spoken low and was as important to her as that of her own child. "Vaughn."
Once upon a time he would have quickly sprang to his feet, but his joints were no longer that cooperative. Sometimes he felt his joints crack and occasionally even heard them hiss if he moved too quickly. Instead, he moved with a patience that fit his years of life experience, slowly pulling to his feet. Swiftly he wiped the underside of his nose, his hands in his pockets as he looked at everything but her eyes. "Hey Syd."
Although he'd never admit it aloud, he'd spent hours trying to predict her reaction. The silence, however, had not been what he'd anticipated. Under his careful scrutiny, he swore he could watch the wheels turn in her mind as the tears pooled in front of her brown eyes. Bringing her free hand up, she quickly wiped them from under her eyes, unaware that she had smudged her mascara in the process. "Vaughn," she spoke again, this time eliciting a heavy sigh after. Standing in front of him, searching her vast vocabulary for some appropriate response, she wondered why this hurt so much, and how it could still manage to feel so right after two decades and a lifetime worth of regrets. "How are you?" she asked, wondering if the question sounded as absurd to him as it suddenly did to her.
"I'm okay," he replied, with a voice still hoarse from nearly a day's worth of non-use. "I let myself in," he pointed out the obvious as she nodded. "I saw your car..."
"I was walking Gehrig," she softly explained, tugging at the dog's leash. "Do you have time? I was going to make some coffee."
"Coffee would be nice," he nodded. For a moment she remained stationary, studying him before she pulled the dog's leash, Gehrig faithfully trailing his mistress as she started up the stairs. As she passed, Vaughn noted how her arm seem to stiffen after briefly touching his, easily letting him into her kitchen.
Decorated with dark wooden cabinets, it was a sufficient kitchen, although the once modern appliances were now beginning to show their age. The kitchen table was pushed up against the two windows overlooking the driveway that Sydney shared with Georgia, and was devoid of anything sans a purple vase of fresh flowers. Unleashing the dog, she silently motioned for him to take a seat as she began to prepare coffee, the tension as obvious in her shoulders as it was on his face. Even with the discomfort, his eyes stayed on her, watching as she flicked on the coffee pot. Gracefully, she moved around the small but tidy kitchen, pulling out what was necessary.
"May I use your bathroom?" he finally broke the silence, notably catching her off guard. Tossing him a look over her shoulder, she nodded.
"Sure," she agreed. "It's right there," Sydney explained, pointing to a dark wooden door just off the left of the kitchen. Flashing her a smile of gratitude, he disappeared behind the door. Once he was out of her sight, she heaved a heavy sigh of relief, willing the coffee pot to brew faster. There certainly was a reason for his arrival, she was positive of that, but her mind was bare of any legitimate possibility. Still, when she'd seen the worry lines around his eyes, her heart had reached out for him. Just as her mind had unwillingly jumped to possibilities of 'what if', despite her happiness with her current life situation, when she noticed that the wedding band that had hung in her mind for years, was gone.
"Would you like something to eat?" she offered as the bathroom door swung open and he stepped out.
Vaughn shook his head and muttered a 'no thank you' as she grabbed the two coffee cups. Trailing a step behind him, she was setting the coffee on the table, with him halfway into the kitchen chair when something caught his eye and caused him to stop. Confused, she turned to follow his gaze, landing on her refrigerator. The surface had been a cornucopia since she arrived in Trinidad, especially since Claire's birth. Even though her daughter was away at college, it was still covered in pictures and papers held down by colorful magnets, depicting places they'd gone or bearing amusing quotes. Along the side of the refrigerator, in colorful letter magnets, her daughter had even carefully spelt out 'Go Cardinals'. Although the surface was busy, it was obvious to her what had caused Vaughn to react.
Across from a picture of Sydney and Claire at her high school graduation was another recent picture. Wearing a smile and a slight crimson color in her cheeks, Sydney stood next to a handsome, but slightly older man. The man was tall, the top of her head barely touching his shoulder. His hair reminded her of the sky at midnight and his eyes were the bluest she'd ever seen up close. His Italian blood made him tan nearly year-round, although in the photo he was slightly burnt from too many hours on the golf course. The grin on his face was just as wide as her own as they stood in his classroom, a framed and matted photo of a Hawaiian golf course behind them. Sydney clearly remembered the day Claire had insisted on taking the photo, nearly six months ago, and it had remained on her refrigerator since it returned from the developer.
Softly she released a sigh, turning to face him as he fell back into the seat. Twenty years and an eighteen year old daughter later, she wondered why the guilt suddenly reappeared, and why she was the one carrying it. The kitchen chair scraped loudly over the tile as she sank into the chair next to him and met his green eyes. "His name is Peter," she explained. "He was one of Claire's teachers during her sophomore year. We've been friends since then," Sydney pressed on. Then her voice dropped a hint lower as she added, "It's nothing serious, but we've been seeing one another since March."
Vaughn nodded and took a sip of coffee, nearly relieved to feel it burn the top of his tongue. Momentarily, it seemed appropriate to say he was happy for her, but in truth, he wasn't. As egotistical and logically wrong as he knew it to be, he would never be happy to see Sydney Bristow with another man, regardless of his own circumstances. From the moment her eyes had locked with his twenty-four years, she had been his girl, and he detested any man who even had the opportunity to give her a look-over. Resting the mug back against the Windexed surface of the kitchen table, he swallowed the remainder of the painful liquid and finally spoke. "You look good Syd."
The smile that she sent him didn't quite reach her eyes and didn't have the joy that she had carried in the photo with Peter. Slowly, it disappeared as she looked at the caramel colored liquid that floated in her mug. "I've heard about how you've been doing. In the agency. My dad would tell me, or Will, sometimes even Marshall," she grinned as she thought of the still-anxious technology whiz, who had more enthusiasm than all three of his children combined. "You've done good work Vaughn. It's amazing what you accomplished," she complimented, a brief ember of pride flickering in her brown eyes.
"I never would have made it this far without you."
Under his trained scrutiny, her head shook and her smile again disappeared. "You would have made it with or without me. If you remember, I'm the reason you almost died. Twice," she recalled, her eyes not meeting his as her voice cracked.
"You saved my life."
"You wouldn't have needed to be saved if I hadn't gotten us in trouble..." she grinned and shook her head. Her slender hand reached up to pull hair off of her face, her grin growing as she looked up at him. "It's a miracle that the agency didn't fire us a long time ago, isn't it?"
"We did good work together Syd," he smiled softly. For whatever reason, his honest comment caused her to go somber again and he wondered what it would take to keep the smile on her face.
Instead of gazing at him, she took a sip of her coffee and then studied the mug as she cradled it between her hands. "Why are you here Vaughn? This isn't exactly a casual drive up coast from L.A."
"They offered me Devlin's job," Vaughn confessed, as her brown eyes gazed across his, the surprise evident. Intentionally dropping his voice, he added, "I've missed you Syd."
"Vaughn..." she dragged his name out over a sigh. "Can you still really miss someone after eighteen years?" she quietly asked. The only answer he had was a silent shrug. Although he'd stopped mourning her years ago, the grief still lingered, along with the ache that he felt whenever he thought of her. Finally, she whispered the words he'd only dreamed of hearing, "I've missed you too Vaughn. A lot," she confessed, a smile hinting at the corners of her lips. "Sometimes more than others, but I have missed you," she quietly concluded. For a few minutes she let that hang in the air, daring to look up at him, smiling at the nearly goofy grin he had directed at her. As all good things must, her smile vanished as he watched her brown eyes grow serious. "You said you were offered Devlin's job. Are you going to take it?"
That was just one of the many questions that had plagued him on what he had intended to be a mind-clearing trip. Instead, he'd arrived at a different destination, confronting head-on, a demon that he had been quietly battling for years. The easy answer would have been yes, of course he was going to take the job. The previous month had marked his thirty first year with the agency; after such a long tenure it would have been insane to say no to what most agents considered the ultimate goal. Yet, he hadn't even been in the agency for a decade when he'd grown sick of company politics, of beauracratic nonsense, and had always acted accordingly. Needless to say, he hadn't even been aware that he'd been on the shortlist of candidates to take over the position, nevermind the forerunner.
"You'd be good at it," she softly complimented. At his skeptical glance, she continued, "You'd do what was in the best interest of the country."
"I don't know," he sighed, blowing on his coffee before taking another sip of the liquid. Quietly he explained, "My father would have taken the job. Without even thinking about it. If the agency wanted it, he would have done it, whether he really wanted to or not."
"Vaughn," she quietly spoke, taking a moment to consider her response. "You can't take this job just because your father would have. Of course your father wanted what was best for the country, for the CIA, but he would have wanted what was best for you first."
"I've been doing this for thirty one years Syd," he reminded her, his voice low and hoarse. "If I don't take this job, what the hell have I been working for?"
Leaning against the table, her warmth drawing closer to his, Sydney answered. "You're not like Haladki or Davenport or half the other idiots you work with," she reminded him as his lips quirked. His eyes lowered as she continued, "You didn't join the CIA so you could retire as director, you joined..."
"I joined for my father," he supplied the words she was too cautious to speak, meeting her eyes. "I joined for my father."
"Your goal was never to be director," she remembered.
"No," he shook his head, his eyebrow rose as he sipped his coffee. The mug banged softly against the surface of the table as he set it down. "I did this to bring down the Alliance and find my father's killer," he recalled as her eyes dipped from his. "Sydney," he gently hugged her name, capturing her eyes before she could look away.
"My mother killed your father Vaughn, she's still alive and he's not," she harshly whispered.
"Nothing either of us can do will ever change that," he protested. Shaking her head, she stood and walked to the coffee pot, her back to him as she let out a heavy sigh.
"How can you not let this upset you?" Sydney asked, her figure still away from him as he stood.
"Of course it upsets me Syd, but it's not you and it's not me. It's our parents. I found out who my father's killer was; that was something I never thought possible. I've looked her straight in the eye Syd, I've even had opportunities to take her life, but I never did," he pointed out. When she turned to face him, standing a few scant feet from him in the compact kitchen, his eyes were serious as he continued. "I didn't kill her, and I don't regret it. Killing her would have made me no better than she is. If we spent our time letting that eat us alive, they would have won, and neither one of us wants that to happen."
The phone rang in the tiny home before she could even consider her response. With a quick glance at the clock, she was certain of who it was before she even eyed the caller identification box. Apologetically she turned to look at Vaughn, who was slowly sinking back into his chair. "It's Claire, I should go take this," she realized. Silently he agreed as she grabbed the cordless phone and slipped into the family room. "Hello?" she finally answered, moments before the voicemail would have kicked in.
"Hey Mom," Claire's friendly voice popped in to her ear. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing," she sighed tiredly. "Gehrig's eating dinner, I walked him. Thinking about making dinner for myself..."
"How was work?"
"Fine. Over now."
A few hundred miles away her daughter laughed and Sydney couldn't help but smile. "That bad, huh?"
"I've had better days," Sydney agreed. "Did you eat dinner?"
"Yes Mom," she promised. Without missing a beat, her tone turned from jovial to slightly concerned as she continued her half of the conversation. "Are you okay? You sound sort of weird."
"No, I'm fine sweetie. I just have some company over, that's all."
"I'm so sorry Mom! I didn't realize that you had Peter over -"
"It's not Peter and it wasn't planned sweetheart, you didn't interrupt anything," her mother quickly promised. "I should go though. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Okay. Get some sleep Mom, and I hope you have a better day tomorrow."
"Thanks sweetheart, you too. I love you."
"Love you too Mom," Claire promised as the call disconnected. Turning off the phone, Sydney stared at the buttons for a few moments before she slowly stood off of the couch and re-entered the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, setting the phone back on the charger.
"How's Claire?" he asked pleasantly as she once again joined him at the table.
"Good. She usually calls around this time most nights. We check in... I think she uses the call as a tactic to delay doing homework," Sydney considered, as they both laughed.
"She's in college now?"
"A freshman," her head nodded slightly. "She's studying economics at Stanford."
"Stanford? Why didn't she go to Humboldt?"
"Stanford offered her an athletic scholarship. Plus, I don't think she wanted to spend her college years being referred to as Professor Bristow's daughter," she explained, sipping her coffee as he nodded.
"What does she play?"
"Field hockey," she confessed, as he grinned. "Goalie, actually. She's good, very quick reflexes."
"She must be very good, the Cardinals have a good athletic program," he mused.
Mindful of polite conversation, she replied with a similar question, "How's your daughter?"
"I'm assuming Alexandra is okay," Vaughn sighed and sipped his coffee. At her obviously confused _expression, he began to clarify. "She's nineteen now, she doesn't make a daily ritual out of calling me," he explained.
"They're teenagers, we're no longer cool," she reminded him with a slight smirk. Seconds later they both laughed before he continued.
"She's a sophomore at the University of Arizona now, she's studying biochemistry."
"Arizona?" She was obviously surprised as he nodded. "Why didn't she stay in California?"
"Kate moved back to Arizona after the divorce." He looked away as she nodded, the two slipping into a foreign silence. Silently, the ceiling fan pushed air throughout the room as Gehrig tugged his blanket out from under the baker's rack and sank down onto it.
"I'm sorry," she finally spoke, breaking the silence. Of course she was sorry, no divorce was easy. Will had been torn to shreds after his own divorce, and while it was amicable, it was still among the most painful times of his life. The type of pain she'd seen him suffer was a type she'd never wish upon anyone, especially someone she cared about.
Vaughn shook his head and quietly protested, "Don't be. It's been awhile now... It just wasn't working anymore. It hadn't been for awhile," he quietly confessed. In her seat Sydney remained silent, her eyes glued to the remains of her lukewarm coffee as she nodded.
Finally, she met his eyes, her hands wrapped around the mug of coffee. "Why are you really here Vaughn?" she softly inquired. "You didn't need me to talk to you about becoming director – Will, or even Dixon or Marshall could have helped you just as easily. And I'm assuming you didn't make a seventeen hour drive just to talk about Claire and Alexandra," she pointed out. Repeating the question, her eyes were serious and her tone was somber, "Why are you here?"