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.
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If life had taught Sydney Bristow one thing, it was that there was always a motive. Teaching literature for nearly two decades had only enforced that belief. Whether it was obvious or could only be guessed at, there was a motive behind every action that a person ever took. Sometimes motives were mysteries even to the people driven by them, but there was always a reason. People like Arvin Sloane and her own mother could be driven by greed, self-fulfillment and power. Then there were people who were spurred to action by love and concern, a need to care and help others, to see good triumph over the current evil. Perhaps it was foolish, but she'd always put Michael Vaughn in the latter category, and always tried to keep herself there as well.
Occasionally a person could be spontaneous, but Michael Vaughn was not that type of person. She'd never known him to be extremely spontaneous, and a sudden trip to see her after eighteen years was nothing short of that. Instead, she'd always imagined he'd carefully considered each word he spoke, maintaining his eloquence, even in the most heated moments. In her mind she could remember what she was certain had been a carefully worded speech involving a broken watch that had belonged to the late William Vaughn. Sometimes she'd even wondered if he'd practiced telling her that he had an instinct about her over and over in his head before he reappeared in his office on that fateful day.
Staring at his coffee, Vaughn cleared his throat and finally began to speak, not meeting her eyes as she carefully watched him. "I don't think I ever told you this, but my mom was married once, before she married my father. Right out of high school, for thirteen months. They were divorced before my mom even finished college," he explained, finally looking at her. "It wasn't something my mother was proud of, but it wasn't something that she was ashamed of either. She once told me that she didn't have any regrets about it. That she'd done and said everything she could have, that it just didn't work. My mother died a few years ago -"
"Vaughn, I'm so sorry," she broke in softly.
"Thank you," he shook his head slightly. "But I'm fine now," he promised. "When everything happened with Kate, that was the one consolation I had. I wasn't proud of the fact that my marriage was over, or that I had hurt my daughter, but I knew we'd done and said everything we could. I thought that was enough; I thought that it was enough that I could look at every person in my life without any regrets..." he trailed off. "Syd, it wasn't my intention to come here. I didn't leave Los Angeles planning to come here. I talked to Kate yesterday, for the first time in basically a year, for reasons other than Alex..."
Reading the mixed emotions on his face, and how he kept his eyes away from her, Sydney wondered what could be so horrible that she even felt her own heart breaking. "Vaughn?" she gently prodded, as he wiped the underside of his nose, breathed in the slightest of sniffles, and continued.
"Kate was... is, engaged to be remarried. I've known for a few months. Alex told me during her last visit. I'm not in love with her anymore Syd, I'm not sure if we ever were; if we weren't just fooling ourselves..." His eyes welled up as he continued to speak. Goosebumps shot through her as she remembered the last time she'd seen him react like that: In a seemingly doomed safe house in Hong Kong. Swallowing hard, he sniffled again and continued, "I do care about her though. She's the mother of my child, and for a while we were happy..." he conceded, as she remained silent. "Syd, I was happy for Kate when she got engaged, and I tried to move on..." he shook his head slightly, seemingly lost in his own memories.
"She's sick, she's been sick for a while now... When she first got diagnosed, I offered to come out, to help, but she insisted she didn't need me... The treatments haven't been working and she called to tell me, to make sure that things were in order, for... for when she goes," Vaughn's voice cracked as he lightly pinched and brushed the upper side of his finger along his nose once again. "So when I got into my car, I was going to go to Tuscan, to try to help. I don't know, I thought maybe... I realized that Kate had her fiancée and that Alex had her friends and her mother, and likely doesn't need or even want to see me. The only person she wants to see right now is her mother, and I don't blame her. I wasn't the best father in the world Syd -"
"I'm sure -"
"It's the truth," he stopped her attempts to assure him. "I wasn't. I got wrapped up too easily in work and I wasn't the type of father I could have been when she was younger. I do regret that, I regret that I wasn't the type of father I knew I could be, but it was stupid of me to believe that was the only regret I had..."
"I'm sorry about Kate. Is there anything I can do?" she politely offered.
"No," he shook his head. "She's got the best doctors in Arizona. There's nothing anyone besides them can do," Vaughn explained.
"I'm sorry about Kate, but I still don't know why you're here."
His gaze turned sharply to hers as his voice grew low. "I think you do."
"Vaughn," Sydney swallowed hard, and looked down at the progressively cool mug she held in her hands. Outside, the wind was picking up and she thought she detected the smell of a brewing storm through the open windows.
"The older I get, the more difficult it becomes to... rectify things. There are things I can't change Syd, I can't go back and be a better father to Alex or a better husband to Kate..." He drew his eyes away from her, blinking rapidly before he continued in a low voice, "I can't go back and change what happened twenty two years ago, no matter how much I deconstruct or think about it, I can't."
Studying her own hands, she tried to stop him, "Vaughn -"
"I'm getting too old for this Syd, I'm too old to have all these regrets. I'm sick of settling, all because I had this thought that I wanted something that I never really achieved."
Finally, he finished and simply stared at her, wondering if perhaps twenty years was too long. They hadn't had any other options; both had been between a rock and a hard place. There'd been a duty to fulfill, an obligation to his wife. Sydney had frankly no other option but to move on, to get past him as best she could. The beginning had been painful and difficult, extracting herself from that life, cutting all the intricately tied strings that connected her soul to his. That life had ended, without her approval or knowledge, but the only choice she had, was acceptance. Untying herself from him, from her life in Los Angeles, had been reminiscent of some twelve-step addiction program. First go a few days without crying, a few days without thinking of him every waking moment, a few days without crying at the thought of him... Eventually, he became something she thought of when she watched Claire play hockey or root for the Kings, or when she lay alone at night in her bed. Generally, she even managed to smile when she remembered him and everything he'd given her.
Now he was back and had unwittingly broken her heart again. Even after her own misfortune, the disastrous last few months she had spent with David, she had hoped he'd fared better. That whoever Kate was, the faceless woman she could never bear to meet, or even see in a photograph, she made him happy. Kate was his gateway to his normal life; his daughter's birth the first stop on the route to normalcy. Somehow, her own relationship shortcomings hurt far less than the obvious pain that underlined his tone. For so long Michael Vaughn had thought the one thing he desperately wanted was normalcy. Accepting that your dream was never really what you sought, that defeat had been the outcome of your one-time-best-effort, was anything but easy.
"Sydney?" Vaughn's voice softly pushed through the cobwebs that had rapidly surrounded her conscious thought. Looking at him, her eyes widened slightly in brief surprise, before she slowly stood. For the first time since he had arrived, she didn't want to talk; she was tired of whatever words they could possibly offer one another. It was getting late, nearing seven, and they both wore the signs of fatigue. After far too long away from him, from the good and bad he had brought into her life, she just wanted to be with him for a sliver of time.
"I'm tired Vaughn," she sighed, emptying her coffee cup and setting it in the dishwasher. Rinsing her hands off with a dishtowel, she turned towards him, clenching the wisp of cotton fabric. "I don't want to talk anymore," she softly requested. "It's late and you've been driving all day."
Understanding, he nodded and lifted his body out of the seat. "Where's the nearest hotel?"
"No," she shook her head, turning away from him as she set the towel back on the counter. "You can have the sofa. It folds out into a bed. There's no need for you to stay in a hotel," she softly insisted. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, relieved to see him nod. "I was going to make dinner. I know it's not much, but is spaghetti okay? I need to go grocery shopping."
"That's fine Syd," he promised. Hesitantly, Vaughn continued, "I have a bag in the car -"
"You could probably use a shower," Sydney noted, sounding far more like a mother than his former asset as she slinked gracefully around the kitchen. "The hot water takes a few seconds to kick in, but the bathroom is all yours," she promised, occupying her attention away from him as he nodded and disappeared out the back door. His sneakers crunched over the concrete steps and the gate lock hitched as he slid through.
Turning towards Gehrig, she met her dog's tilted head in matching confusion. Remembering a long-forgotten memory, she repeated the mantra she had used, seemingly a lifetime ago, in a weak attempt to convince herself and her best friend: "It's not worth fantasizing about, nothing's ever going to come of it," she whispered, as Gehrig blinked and carefully studied her before he dropped his chin to his blanket in exhaustion.
If only she could believe now what she hadn't even believed then, she sighed as she began preparing the pasta.
He was quiet as he snuck back into the house, sharing a brief look with Sydney before he disappeared behind her bathroom door. Moving around the kitchen, wiping down counters and straightening up her always hectic kitchen table, Sydney struggled not to listen to the sound of the shower water beating against him. This man had once shared her soul; perhaps he still did. Welcoming him into her life, into her bed, a lifetime ago, had been an easy transition. Now the thought of him going through the mundane act of showering in her own bathroom had her on edge.
Despite her best efforts to stop it, ever so briefly, her flawless memory conjured up the image of Michael Vaughn in the shower. Pressing the sponge even deeper against the spotless countertops, she swore at herself for suddenly remembering how long it had been since she'd been with a man. The bitter mixture of her desire to both hurt and protect him from her relationship with Peter hadn't sparked her to lie. They'd been together eight months, and it was nothing serious.
The water boiling, she quickly worked through her daily ritual of setting the table, a habit she had kept up even after Claire left for Stanford. Some days Georgia came over for coffee or dinner, other nights Peter would swing by, watch television with her and share a meal. The mere routine of setting the table, clearing off the plates, and loading the dishwasher were all clogs in the life she had built herself; tiny but crucial parts of the comfort she had created.
With the setting complete for dinner and the food still preparing, she left the kitchen. Stepping through the family room, she rounded and climbed the staircase, turning right to the linen closet. The closed door to Claire's room served as a reminder of the young woman she'd never stop missing, but had grown accustomed to being without. Shutting the sad musings out of her mind, she grabbed what would be necessary for Vaughn that night as she retreated back to the kitchen, the stairs creaking under her feet.
Finally arriving back into the kitchen, she was surprised to see him there. The dampness made his hair a shade darker than normal, still sticking up in various directions, although he'd certainly ran his fingers through it. Donning jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers, he stood over her stove wearing a guilty _expression. "The water was boiling. I put the spaghetti in. I didn't think you'd mind."
"That's fine," she quickly assured him. Peter had been over countless occasions, even preparing dinner a few times, and she refused to wonder why Vaughn looked far more at home there than the current man in her life ever had. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No thank you," he easily replied, shaking his head slightly with a half smile. Nodding, she poured herself a drink and obtained the colander, careful not to brush her body against his as he leaned against the counter, arms folded and watching her. Just moments after she set her glass on the table, the pasta finished and in silence, she dished out two plates.
Sitting across from him, the vase of flowers pushed against the back of the table, they quietly began to share the meal. Tossing a brief look in his direction, she remembered the first time she'd ever made him a meal. With that memory came the promise she had made herself on that evening, that even if he hadn't kept her busy all night, she wouldn't have slept. Instead, she planned on cherishing their first night together, since the first time only happened once. Although, she had once firmly believed it would be the first of a lifetime of nights.
"What?" he chuckled softly, catching the soft smile on her face.
"Excuse me?" She brushed hair out of her face, looking up at him in slight surprise.
Vaughn's grin grew as he shook his head slightly. "You looked like you were somewhere else."
For a second she considered her response before she met his gaze across the table and answered softly, "I was."
After a moment Vaughn nodded, sensing that she did not want to discuss whatever she was remembering any further. By the look on her face, he could only assume it was good. The optimist in him could only hope he had been involved. Other than the brief exchange, the meal was taken in silence. Both silently understood that the other one was wrapped up in memories; confronted with a lifetime of what could have been. Whether the path had been sinisterly chosen for them or made from their own doing, it was one they could not go back and retrace. Instead, they were left with the good, the bad, and the regrets.
"I have office hours tomorrow morning," Sydney finally broke the silence, standing over her kitchen sink as Vaughn brought over his plate. "I don't have any classes tomorrow though," she added. Aware that he stood close by her side, feeling the warmth of his body and his gaze, she kept her eyes on scrubbing the plate. "I don't know what your plans are. I'm sure you have to get back to Los Angeles, the agency -"
"I have some time off," he injected. "Actually... It was 'strongly recommended' that I take some time off to consider my...opportunities at the agency," he carefully worded.
Glancing briefly over her shoulder, Sydney sent him a playful smirk. "They must really want you."
"They must," he chuckled.
"You must be exhausted," she noted, wiping her hands on her dishtowel.
Biting back a yawn, Vaughn couldn't help but grin. "A little."
"I put out some pillows and blankets for you, in the family room. I'd offer you Claire's room, but it's not exactly fit for guests. I'm not entirely sure it's fit for her to even sleep in," she explained.
"Unknown life forms grow there?" he teased.
Sydney laughed and shook her head slightly, "Nothing I've ever seen." Growing serious she added, "You'll probably need some help, moving the coffee table over and pulling out the bed."
"I can handle it Syd," he promised. "You've already done more than enough."
Finally conceding, she glanced down at her outfit and back at him. "I think I'll go get changed," she commented. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Vaughn's eyes remained on her as she rounded the corner out of the kitchen. Moments later he followed, slowly pushing the coffee table to the side as he heard her feet climb the squeaky staircase. Pulling the sofa cushions off, he placed them to the side, admiring the view of her deck and back yard from the French doors before he pulled out the bed. Not surprisingly, it was already prepared, neatly made with inviting sheets and even a light blanket. All that he needed was the lightweight comforter and pillows she had brought him. Unsure of what to do, he sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the remote control, flicking on a Kings game as he waited her reentrance.
Upstairs, in the sanctuary of her own room, Sydney pushed through the once endless pile of clothes in her walk in closet. Across from the master bedroom was a matching closet, suitable for a significant other, that had been barren for longer than it had ever been busy with activity. Next to the empty walk in was a small room that had once been Claire's nursery, perfect for late nights with an infant that she now used for filing cabinets. Back in her own closet she struggled to find a comfortable and modest pair of pajamas, almost a lifetime ago having settled on wearing long nightshirts to bed with no one besides her daughter around. Finally discovering the cotton pajama set she had desperately sought, she let out a sigh of relief and quickly changed.
Anxiety capturing him, he stood and paced the family room. Pictures were everywhere on the computer and antique desk on one side of the family room. Framed photos graced the wall above the television and were settled on top of the bookshelf that housed books Vaughn remembered her loving. The pictures told the story of the life she had lived without him; the life he hadn't been there to share. There were pictures of her standing on her back stoop, blowing bubbles at an amazed, pint-sized Claire as Gehrig hovered in the background; snapshots of a bleary eyed Claire and an excited Gehrig sitting on the floor in front of the tree on Christmas morning. Images of Halloweens past, mother & daughter dressed up for the festivities. School photos, moments forever captured of a sweaty but smiling Claire and Sydney, presumably after a victory in field hockey. A few photos of Will, Jack and Dixon were tossed in for good measure, along with people he didn't recognize, but could only assume were friends. The image that surprised him the most, however, was of a younger Sydney and Claire standing in front of the house, wearing wide grins and matching Los Angeles Kings apparel.
"Hey," Sydney greeted, rounding the corner into the room. For a moment, he glanced at her like a deer caught in the headlights before she softly came to stand next to him, studying the same pictures. "She hates getting her picture taken. Absolutely detests it."
"Claire?" he guessed, as she nodded.
"Most teenage girls love getting their pictures taken, or at least I thought... It's my fault. She calls it the curse of the only child. I always had a camera," she smiled. "I still do when I see her."
Vaughn nodded and glanced at what he suspected was the most recent photo of Claire, then back at Sydney. "She's beautiful Syd," he complimented. His words were the truth. For the most part, Claire had inherited her mother's looks - high cheekbones, brunette hair, and an athletic body. Aside from the obvious height difference - Sydney still towered a few inches over her daughter - the youngest Bristow woman was all her mother. Even her eyes were the same striking brown that had stunned him in her mother decades earlier.
"She's wonderful," Sydney agreed. "She's very photogenic, but I doubt she's had a picture taken of herself since she left home," she grinned.
Silently he nodded, thinking of the child he hadn't fathered; had never even met. There was no room to argue that he loved Alexandra; that she was a great young woman, but he couldn't help but wonder how things might have been different. Perhaps if Sydney had been his wife, there was the chance that he would have been a better father. Even though that shouldn't have had an impact on his role as a father, it had. Kate was a good woman, and they had been relatively happy, but he allowed himself to become absorbed back into his job in a way he never had when he'd been with Sydney. Unless they'd been working together, he silently amended.
"You must be tired," she spoke, easily picking up on his change in demeanor. "I should still be home when you wake up. If you need anything, I'm just at the top of the stairs. The door on the left," she explained. Uncomfortably Sydney broached the subject, "If you leave before -"
"I won't leave before you see me again," Vaughn quickly stopped her. Now that he was there, he wondered how he could be expected to leave at all.
"Well...Everything's in the kitchen. You know where the bathroom is. If the cats jump on the bed, just put them back on the floor, they learn quick," she promised. "Do you need anything?"
"I think I'll be okay Syd," he assured her. "Thank you," he softly added.
"It's nothing," she quickly dismissed. Half turned to leave the room, she paused to look back at him. "Good night Vaughn."
"Night Syd."
As she grew older, Sydney had discovered that sleep was more difficult to come by, particularly at night. That night was no exception. She suspected it was even more difficult for her to capture the elusive slumber than usual. The lewd side of her mind kept remembering that it was the first time in twenty-four years that she'd slept on top of Michael Vaughn, while her brain rushed with sympathy and leftover curiosity at his sudden arrival. If someone had told her twenty-four hours earlier that Vaughn would be in Trinidad, never mind sleeping in her home, it would have seemed like the most unlikely thing in the world.
Eventually the sun rose, pulling her along with it. Somehow she'd managed to get some rest, having fallen asleep for a handful of hours between twilight and dusk. The man sleeping on her roll out sofa was the first thing on her mind as she carefully stepped down the stairs, cautious not to make any unnecessary noise. Gehrig, still half asleep, followed down the stairs faithfully behind his mistress.
Arriving on the main floor of her home, she quietly stepped a few feet into the family room and stopped. Less than a room away from her, Vaughn appeared to be peacefully sleeping. Any sign of distress on his face was gone. Instead, he was cuddled up with his cheek resting against the pillowcase, facing her in his sleep. Glancing down at her slippers, she remembered the last time she had woken up in his arms. Now twenty-two years past that fated morning, she wondered what they might have done differently if they'd known the outcome.
When Sydney looked back over at him, she was surprised to see his eyes open. Then as he spoke, she was surprised to hear that his voice was devoid of any sleep. "You never let me explain."
There was no doubt in her soul that he wasn't referring to his sudden arrival in Trinidad. Instead, Vaughn clearly meant her reappearance in Hong Kong so many years ago. Sydney hadn't let him explain, hadn't had the real desire for an explanation. By then it was already obvious that her life was in pieces. Nothing he could have said would have made it any easier, or certainly not any better, despite his best intentions.
"Vaughn," she sighed, briefly peeling her eyes from his.
"It's true Sydney," he pressed on. Turning back to him, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's been over twenty years and I deserve the chance to explain."
"You said so yourself Vaughn, it's been over twenty years. What would be the point?"
"What's the point?" he replied, as she nodded skeptically. "The point is that it's something you should have let me do years ago. It's killed me, Sydney, knowing you never gave me at least a chance to try to explain. Instead, you just cast me aside," he bitterly recalled. Standing at his full height, he slowly approached her as he continued, "Damn it Sydney, you were back and you wouldn't let me near you! Do you have any idea how difficult that was?"
"Why are you doing this?" she hissed. "What's the point Vaughn? No amount of talking is going to go back and change what happened," she snapped. "Why are you even here? Why come here Vaughn? Why just show up and start this mess all over again? Haven't we gone through this enough times? It was decided a long time ago for us. You're just making this more difficult for both of us!"
Vaughn's usually vibrant eyes grew small as he glared at her. "Why am I here?" he repeated the question. Standing her ground, Sydney nodded. Lifting his voice he answered her, "Because I'm fifty-seven years old and I don't have any other place to go Syd. Is that what you want to hear? That I've got nowhere else to go, but here. Damn it, even Weiss is married! This is the only place I could think of," he confessed, his voice growing progressively lower throughout his tirade.
Studying him for a moment, Sydney silently sank down to the edge of the bed. After she released a heavy sigh, she met his eyes as he towered at his full height. "I'm listening."
"You have no idea what it was like for me Syd, for any of us. Damn, I still have nightmares about it," he muttered. Pulling a chair over from the desk, he dragged it over to a place in front of the couch. Finally he settled his body against the soft wood, unable to meet her eyes as he spoke. "Your... disappearance made all of us a mess. Dixon, Will, your father... Even Kendall and Carrie, who barely even knew you... But... It was the worst for me. Your father had already lost someone; he was far better at compartmentalizing, being stone faced than I'll ever be. You weren't just my work partner or my colleague, or even my girlfriend Syd..." Vaughn's green eyes finally reached hers. "Nearly every free moment I had - and some moments I *didn't* have - were spent with you. Every part of my day, of my life, Syd, and I had let myself get used to things that way," he confessed. He then looked away and allowed his voice to drop. "I liked it that way."
A short distance from him, she struggled to listen to his explanation as the tears pooled in her eyes. When a loud sniffle escaped her, she swiftly wiped the moisture from her eyes. The memories brought an obvious gathering of tears in front of his own eyes, tears that Vaughn refused to let escape. Finally, he continued.
"I spent... months looking for you, for Sloane or Sark, or any lead. Anything Syd... Then Kendall decided you were dead. After a few more months even your father and Dixon agreed..." he recalled. Venom suddenly appeared in his voice while he added, "I watched you become a damn star on some fucking wall Sydney. As if that was supposed to justify what happened, or appropriately commend all that you had done for the agency. Half the idiots at the memorial service hadn't even met you... I stood in front of your *grave* Sydney. The whole time knowing it was my fault -"
"Vaughn, no," she began to protest.
"It's the truth," he shook his head sadly. "I should have seen it, I should have gone in with you... There were a million things I could have done to change what happened to you Sydney. No one was closer to you or the situation than I was, and I let the agency down," he sighed. Tilting his eyes from hers he added, "I let you down."
Sniffling, she shook her head. "You never let me down, Vaughn. There was nothing you could have done," Sydney reasoned.
Vaughn nodded, quickly wiping the bottom of his nose before he continued, "I met Kate a year after you... disappeared," he recalled. "She was nothing like you. She was an illustrator. She still has her own comic strip," he explained. "We had fun. With her, I could forget... God Sydney, I just wanted to forget. I was starting to get numb, and I knew I'd never do you justice if I was numb... We'd been married for about five months when you reappeared," he recalled. Silently, Sydney accepted this information, aware that it would be useless to say anything about his already dissolved marriage, despite the pain it had caused her.
"I'm sorry Syd," his voice cracked as he continued, "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you after your return, that I couldn't be there the way you needed me... My hands were tied..."
"You were married Vaughn," she softly comforted him. "You were a good husband. You owed Kate your loyalty. I understand," she promised. What she spoke was the truth. Sydney Bristow understood, and even respected Michael Vaughn for his loyalty to his then-wife, but she made no comment of *liking* it.
"Things... They didn't work out the way I thought they would Syd. They haven't in a long time," he confessed. "I can't change the way things turned out, I can't go back and fix things. What I did, what happened, when you were... gone. I never wanted to hurt you Sydney, I would never betray your trust. I don't imagine that it's any consolation for you, but it is the truth."
"You went to Hong Kong, you brought me back to Los Angeles... You did everything you could for me," she assured him, her mind working through the painful memories. The first few months back in Los Angeles had been the most emotionally difficult time of her life. Nothing had been untouched by time. Except her. She had been desperate to understand everything.
"You pushed me away Sydney," Vaughn recalled. "Damn it, you just pushed me away... I felt like I'd lost you again."
Sydney's watery eyes grew as she glared at him. "What exactly was I supposed to do? You were *married*!"
"I wanted to be there for you Syd! You let Dixon and Will, and hell, even Weiss help you out. You wouldn't even let me be your friend," he growled.
"What would've been the point?"
"The point is, I could have helped you!"
Dropping her voice to a bitter hiss, she finally replied. "I was trying to get my life together! I had enough to deal with Vaughn! If I had you around, I would have done nothing but think about what I'd lost! I had to move on."
"You didn't have to cut me out of your life altogether Syd! You didn't have to ignore me or have me find out that you left the CIA from Kendall! For years I was your ally Sydney, I thought we were *friends* before anything else. You couldn't even give me the courtesy of saying goodbye!"
"I'm sorry that you weren't my first concern," she replied dryly. Growing bitter she continued, "Maybe I should have said goodbye, but being around you was not as easy for me as you seem to think it was! God Vaughn, I would have rather been in a dentist's chair in Taipei than look at you! It took me years before I could even think about you, the good and the bad, without getting upset! Damn it Vaughn, I thought what we had was important, and I come back less than two years later and you're married!"
"That's not fair Sydney!" he barked. "I thought you were *dead*! It's not like I went out *looking* for a wife! I was almost thirty-five when you disappeared. I was thinking about getting married and starting a family. Don't you dare fault me for wanting normalcy. It was perfectly fine with you when I shared it with *you*!"
"I wasn't dead!" she cruelly reminded him. "Every time I looked at you, all I could think was that it should have been *me*, Vaughn! You try having some sociopath who betrayed you and then is seemingly obsessed with ruining your life kidnap you, and see how you cope! Then to find out that you..." her voice cracked as she shook her head. "To find out that I'd lost you."
Vaughn's eyes slid shut as he swallowed back his tears. Clearing his throat, his green eyes grew visible as he looked at her. "You never had to lose me Sydney," he softly corrected her. "Maybe things weren't the way they were after you disappeared, but you never had to lose me. I never would have willingly walked out of your life."
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.
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If life had taught Sydney Bristow one thing, it was that there was always a motive. Teaching literature for nearly two decades had only enforced that belief. Whether it was obvious or could only be guessed at, there was a motive behind every action that a person ever took. Sometimes motives were mysteries even to the people driven by them, but there was always a reason. People like Arvin Sloane and her own mother could be driven by greed, self-fulfillment and power. Then there were people who were spurred to action by love and concern, a need to care and help others, to see good triumph over the current evil. Perhaps it was foolish, but she'd always put Michael Vaughn in the latter category, and always tried to keep herself there as well.
Occasionally a person could be spontaneous, but Michael Vaughn was not that type of person. She'd never known him to be extremely spontaneous, and a sudden trip to see her after eighteen years was nothing short of that. Instead, she'd always imagined he'd carefully considered each word he spoke, maintaining his eloquence, even in the most heated moments. In her mind she could remember what she was certain had been a carefully worded speech involving a broken watch that had belonged to the late William Vaughn. Sometimes she'd even wondered if he'd practiced telling her that he had an instinct about her over and over in his head before he reappeared in his office on that fateful day.
Staring at his coffee, Vaughn cleared his throat and finally began to speak, not meeting her eyes as she carefully watched him. "I don't think I ever told you this, but my mom was married once, before she married my father. Right out of high school, for thirteen months. They were divorced before my mom even finished college," he explained, finally looking at her. "It wasn't something my mother was proud of, but it wasn't something that she was ashamed of either. She once told me that she didn't have any regrets about it. That she'd done and said everything she could have, that it just didn't work. My mother died a few years ago -"
"Vaughn, I'm so sorry," she broke in softly.
"Thank you," he shook his head slightly. "But I'm fine now," he promised. "When everything happened with Kate, that was the one consolation I had. I wasn't proud of the fact that my marriage was over, or that I had hurt my daughter, but I knew we'd done and said everything we could. I thought that was enough; I thought that it was enough that I could look at every person in my life without any regrets..." he trailed off. "Syd, it wasn't my intention to come here. I didn't leave Los Angeles planning to come here. I talked to Kate yesterday, for the first time in basically a year, for reasons other than Alex..."
Reading the mixed emotions on his face, and how he kept his eyes away from her, Sydney wondered what could be so horrible that she even felt her own heart breaking. "Vaughn?" she gently prodded, as he wiped the underside of his nose, breathed in the slightest of sniffles, and continued.
"Kate was... is, engaged to be remarried. I've known for a few months. Alex told me during her last visit. I'm not in love with her anymore Syd, I'm not sure if we ever were; if we weren't just fooling ourselves..." His eyes welled up as he continued to speak. Goosebumps shot through her as she remembered the last time she'd seen him react like that: In a seemingly doomed safe house in Hong Kong. Swallowing hard, he sniffled again and continued, "I do care about her though. She's the mother of my child, and for a while we were happy..." he conceded, as she remained silent. "Syd, I was happy for Kate when she got engaged, and I tried to move on..." he shook his head slightly, seemingly lost in his own memories.
"She's sick, she's been sick for a while now... When she first got diagnosed, I offered to come out, to help, but she insisted she didn't need me... The treatments haven't been working and she called to tell me, to make sure that things were in order, for... for when she goes," Vaughn's voice cracked as he lightly pinched and brushed the upper side of his finger along his nose once again. "So when I got into my car, I was going to go to Tuscan, to try to help. I don't know, I thought maybe... I realized that Kate had her fiancée and that Alex had her friends and her mother, and likely doesn't need or even want to see me. The only person she wants to see right now is her mother, and I don't blame her. I wasn't the best father in the world Syd -"
"I'm sure -"
"It's the truth," he stopped her attempts to assure him. "I wasn't. I got wrapped up too easily in work and I wasn't the type of father I could have been when she was younger. I do regret that, I regret that I wasn't the type of father I knew I could be, but it was stupid of me to believe that was the only regret I had..."
"I'm sorry about Kate. Is there anything I can do?" she politely offered.
"No," he shook his head. "She's got the best doctors in Arizona. There's nothing anyone besides them can do," Vaughn explained.
"I'm sorry about Kate, but I still don't know why you're here."
His gaze turned sharply to hers as his voice grew low. "I think you do."
"Vaughn," Sydney swallowed hard, and looked down at the progressively cool mug she held in her hands. Outside, the wind was picking up and she thought she detected the smell of a brewing storm through the open windows.
"The older I get, the more difficult it becomes to... rectify things. There are things I can't change Syd, I can't go back and be a better father to Alex or a better husband to Kate..." He drew his eyes away from her, blinking rapidly before he continued in a low voice, "I can't go back and change what happened twenty two years ago, no matter how much I deconstruct or think about it, I can't."
Studying her own hands, she tried to stop him, "Vaughn -"
"I'm getting too old for this Syd, I'm too old to have all these regrets. I'm sick of settling, all because I had this thought that I wanted something that I never really achieved."
Finally, he finished and simply stared at her, wondering if perhaps twenty years was too long. They hadn't had any other options; both had been between a rock and a hard place. There'd been a duty to fulfill, an obligation to his wife. Sydney had frankly no other option but to move on, to get past him as best she could. The beginning had been painful and difficult, extracting herself from that life, cutting all the intricately tied strings that connected her soul to his. That life had ended, without her approval or knowledge, but the only choice she had, was acceptance. Untying herself from him, from her life in Los Angeles, had been reminiscent of some twelve-step addiction program. First go a few days without crying, a few days without thinking of him every waking moment, a few days without crying at the thought of him... Eventually, he became something she thought of when she watched Claire play hockey or root for the Kings, or when she lay alone at night in her bed. Generally, she even managed to smile when she remembered him and everything he'd given her.
Now he was back and had unwittingly broken her heart again. Even after her own misfortune, the disastrous last few months she had spent with David, she had hoped he'd fared better. That whoever Kate was, the faceless woman she could never bear to meet, or even see in a photograph, she made him happy. Kate was his gateway to his normal life; his daughter's birth the first stop on the route to normalcy. Somehow, her own relationship shortcomings hurt far less than the obvious pain that underlined his tone. For so long Michael Vaughn had thought the one thing he desperately wanted was normalcy. Accepting that your dream was never really what you sought, that defeat had been the outcome of your one-time-best-effort, was anything but easy.
"Sydney?" Vaughn's voice softly pushed through the cobwebs that had rapidly surrounded her conscious thought. Looking at him, her eyes widened slightly in brief surprise, before she slowly stood. For the first time since he had arrived, she didn't want to talk; she was tired of whatever words they could possibly offer one another. It was getting late, nearing seven, and they both wore the signs of fatigue. After far too long away from him, from the good and bad he had brought into her life, she just wanted to be with him for a sliver of time.
"I'm tired Vaughn," she sighed, emptying her coffee cup and setting it in the dishwasher. Rinsing her hands off with a dishtowel, she turned towards him, clenching the wisp of cotton fabric. "I don't want to talk anymore," she softly requested. "It's late and you've been driving all day."
Understanding, he nodded and lifted his body out of the seat. "Where's the nearest hotel?"
"No," she shook her head, turning away from him as she set the towel back on the counter. "You can have the sofa. It folds out into a bed. There's no need for you to stay in a hotel," she softly insisted. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, relieved to see him nod. "I was going to make dinner. I know it's not much, but is spaghetti okay? I need to go grocery shopping."
"That's fine Syd," he promised. Hesitantly, Vaughn continued, "I have a bag in the car -"
"You could probably use a shower," Sydney noted, sounding far more like a mother than his former asset as she slinked gracefully around the kitchen. "The hot water takes a few seconds to kick in, but the bathroom is all yours," she promised, occupying her attention away from him as he nodded and disappeared out the back door. His sneakers crunched over the concrete steps and the gate lock hitched as he slid through.
Turning towards Gehrig, she met her dog's tilted head in matching confusion. Remembering a long-forgotten memory, she repeated the mantra she had used, seemingly a lifetime ago, in a weak attempt to convince herself and her best friend: "It's not worth fantasizing about, nothing's ever going to come of it," she whispered, as Gehrig blinked and carefully studied her before he dropped his chin to his blanket in exhaustion.
If only she could believe now what she hadn't even believed then, she sighed as she began preparing the pasta.
He was quiet as he snuck back into the house, sharing a brief look with Sydney before he disappeared behind her bathroom door. Moving around the kitchen, wiping down counters and straightening up her always hectic kitchen table, Sydney struggled not to listen to the sound of the shower water beating against him. This man had once shared her soul; perhaps he still did. Welcoming him into her life, into her bed, a lifetime ago, had been an easy transition. Now the thought of him going through the mundane act of showering in her own bathroom had her on edge.
Despite her best efforts to stop it, ever so briefly, her flawless memory conjured up the image of Michael Vaughn in the shower. Pressing the sponge even deeper against the spotless countertops, she swore at herself for suddenly remembering how long it had been since she'd been with a man. The bitter mixture of her desire to both hurt and protect him from her relationship with Peter hadn't sparked her to lie. They'd been together eight months, and it was nothing serious.
The water boiling, she quickly worked through her daily ritual of setting the table, a habit she had kept up even after Claire left for Stanford. Some days Georgia came over for coffee or dinner, other nights Peter would swing by, watch television with her and share a meal. The mere routine of setting the table, clearing off the plates, and loading the dishwasher were all clogs in the life she had built herself; tiny but crucial parts of the comfort she had created.
With the setting complete for dinner and the food still preparing, she left the kitchen. Stepping through the family room, she rounded and climbed the staircase, turning right to the linen closet. The closed door to Claire's room served as a reminder of the young woman she'd never stop missing, but had grown accustomed to being without. Shutting the sad musings out of her mind, she grabbed what would be necessary for Vaughn that night as she retreated back to the kitchen, the stairs creaking under her feet.
Finally arriving back into the kitchen, she was surprised to see him there. The dampness made his hair a shade darker than normal, still sticking up in various directions, although he'd certainly ran his fingers through it. Donning jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers, he stood over her stove wearing a guilty _expression. "The water was boiling. I put the spaghetti in. I didn't think you'd mind."
"That's fine," she quickly assured him. Peter had been over countless occasions, even preparing dinner a few times, and she refused to wonder why Vaughn looked far more at home there than the current man in her life ever had. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No thank you," he easily replied, shaking his head slightly with a half smile. Nodding, she poured herself a drink and obtained the colander, careful not to brush her body against his as he leaned against the counter, arms folded and watching her. Just moments after she set her glass on the table, the pasta finished and in silence, she dished out two plates.
Sitting across from him, the vase of flowers pushed against the back of the table, they quietly began to share the meal. Tossing a brief look in his direction, she remembered the first time she'd ever made him a meal. With that memory came the promise she had made herself on that evening, that even if he hadn't kept her busy all night, she wouldn't have slept. Instead, she planned on cherishing their first night together, since the first time only happened once. Although, she had once firmly believed it would be the first of a lifetime of nights.
"What?" he chuckled softly, catching the soft smile on her face.
"Excuse me?" She brushed hair out of her face, looking up at him in slight surprise.
Vaughn's grin grew as he shook his head slightly. "You looked like you were somewhere else."
For a second she considered her response before she met his gaze across the table and answered softly, "I was."
After a moment Vaughn nodded, sensing that she did not want to discuss whatever she was remembering any further. By the look on her face, he could only assume it was good. The optimist in him could only hope he had been involved. Other than the brief exchange, the meal was taken in silence. Both silently understood that the other one was wrapped up in memories; confronted with a lifetime of what could have been. Whether the path had been sinisterly chosen for them or made from their own doing, it was one they could not go back and retrace. Instead, they were left with the good, the bad, and the regrets.
"I have office hours tomorrow morning," Sydney finally broke the silence, standing over her kitchen sink as Vaughn brought over his plate. "I don't have any classes tomorrow though," she added. Aware that he stood close by her side, feeling the warmth of his body and his gaze, she kept her eyes on scrubbing the plate. "I don't know what your plans are. I'm sure you have to get back to Los Angeles, the agency -"
"I have some time off," he injected. "Actually... It was 'strongly recommended' that I take some time off to consider my...opportunities at the agency," he carefully worded.
Glancing briefly over her shoulder, Sydney sent him a playful smirk. "They must really want you."
"They must," he chuckled.
"You must be exhausted," she noted, wiping her hands on her dishtowel.
Biting back a yawn, Vaughn couldn't help but grin. "A little."
"I put out some pillows and blankets for you, in the family room. I'd offer you Claire's room, but it's not exactly fit for guests. I'm not entirely sure it's fit for her to even sleep in," she explained.
"Unknown life forms grow there?" he teased.
Sydney laughed and shook her head slightly, "Nothing I've ever seen." Growing serious she added, "You'll probably need some help, moving the coffee table over and pulling out the bed."
"I can handle it Syd," he promised. "You've already done more than enough."
Finally conceding, she glanced down at her outfit and back at him. "I think I'll go get changed," she commented. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Vaughn's eyes remained on her as she rounded the corner out of the kitchen. Moments later he followed, slowly pushing the coffee table to the side as he heard her feet climb the squeaky staircase. Pulling the sofa cushions off, he placed them to the side, admiring the view of her deck and back yard from the French doors before he pulled out the bed. Not surprisingly, it was already prepared, neatly made with inviting sheets and even a light blanket. All that he needed was the lightweight comforter and pillows she had brought him. Unsure of what to do, he sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the remote control, flicking on a Kings game as he waited her reentrance.
Upstairs, in the sanctuary of her own room, Sydney pushed through the once endless pile of clothes in her walk in closet. Across from the master bedroom was a matching closet, suitable for a significant other, that had been barren for longer than it had ever been busy with activity. Next to the empty walk in was a small room that had once been Claire's nursery, perfect for late nights with an infant that she now used for filing cabinets. Back in her own closet she struggled to find a comfortable and modest pair of pajamas, almost a lifetime ago having settled on wearing long nightshirts to bed with no one besides her daughter around. Finally discovering the cotton pajama set she had desperately sought, she let out a sigh of relief and quickly changed.
Anxiety capturing him, he stood and paced the family room. Pictures were everywhere on the computer and antique desk on one side of the family room. Framed photos graced the wall above the television and were settled on top of the bookshelf that housed books Vaughn remembered her loving. The pictures told the story of the life she had lived without him; the life he hadn't been there to share. There were pictures of her standing on her back stoop, blowing bubbles at an amazed, pint-sized Claire as Gehrig hovered in the background; snapshots of a bleary eyed Claire and an excited Gehrig sitting on the floor in front of the tree on Christmas morning. Images of Halloweens past, mother & daughter dressed up for the festivities. School photos, moments forever captured of a sweaty but smiling Claire and Sydney, presumably after a victory in field hockey. A few photos of Will, Jack and Dixon were tossed in for good measure, along with people he didn't recognize, but could only assume were friends. The image that surprised him the most, however, was of a younger Sydney and Claire standing in front of the house, wearing wide grins and matching Los Angeles Kings apparel.
"Hey," Sydney greeted, rounding the corner into the room. For a moment, he glanced at her like a deer caught in the headlights before she softly came to stand next to him, studying the same pictures. "She hates getting her picture taken. Absolutely detests it."
"Claire?" he guessed, as she nodded.
"Most teenage girls love getting their pictures taken, or at least I thought... It's my fault. She calls it the curse of the only child. I always had a camera," she smiled. "I still do when I see her."
Vaughn nodded and glanced at what he suspected was the most recent photo of Claire, then back at Sydney. "She's beautiful Syd," he complimented. His words were the truth. For the most part, Claire had inherited her mother's looks - high cheekbones, brunette hair, and an athletic body. Aside from the obvious height difference - Sydney still towered a few inches over her daughter - the youngest Bristow woman was all her mother. Even her eyes were the same striking brown that had stunned him in her mother decades earlier.
"She's wonderful," Sydney agreed. "She's very photogenic, but I doubt she's had a picture taken of herself since she left home," she grinned.
Silently he nodded, thinking of the child he hadn't fathered; had never even met. There was no room to argue that he loved Alexandra; that she was a great young woman, but he couldn't help but wonder how things might have been different. Perhaps if Sydney had been his wife, there was the chance that he would have been a better father. Even though that shouldn't have had an impact on his role as a father, it had. Kate was a good woman, and they had been relatively happy, but he allowed himself to become absorbed back into his job in a way he never had when he'd been with Sydney. Unless they'd been working together, he silently amended.
"You must be tired," she spoke, easily picking up on his change in demeanor. "I should still be home when you wake up. If you need anything, I'm just at the top of the stairs. The door on the left," she explained. Uncomfortably Sydney broached the subject, "If you leave before -"
"I won't leave before you see me again," Vaughn quickly stopped her. Now that he was there, he wondered how he could be expected to leave at all.
"Well...Everything's in the kitchen. You know where the bathroom is. If the cats jump on the bed, just put them back on the floor, they learn quick," she promised. "Do you need anything?"
"I think I'll be okay Syd," he assured her. "Thank you," he softly added.
"It's nothing," she quickly dismissed. Half turned to leave the room, she paused to look back at him. "Good night Vaughn."
"Night Syd."
As she grew older, Sydney had discovered that sleep was more difficult to come by, particularly at night. That night was no exception. She suspected it was even more difficult for her to capture the elusive slumber than usual. The lewd side of her mind kept remembering that it was the first time in twenty-four years that she'd slept on top of Michael Vaughn, while her brain rushed with sympathy and leftover curiosity at his sudden arrival. If someone had told her twenty-four hours earlier that Vaughn would be in Trinidad, never mind sleeping in her home, it would have seemed like the most unlikely thing in the world.
Eventually the sun rose, pulling her along with it. Somehow she'd managed to get some rest, having fallen asleep for a handful of hours between twilight and dusk. The man sleeping on her roll out sofa was the first thing on her mind as she carefully stepped down the stairs, cautious not to make any unnecessary noise. Gehrig, still half asleep, followed down the stairs faithfully behind his mistress.
Arriving on the main floor of her home, she quietly stepped a few feet into the family room and stopped. Less than a room away from her, Vaughn appeared to be peacefully sleeping. Any sign of distress on his face was gone. Instead, he was cuddled up with his cheek resting against the pillowcase, facing her in his sleep. Glancing down at her slippers, she remembered the last time she had woken up in his arms. Now twenty-two years past that fated morning, she wondered what they might have done differently if they'd known the outcome.
When Sydney looked back over at him, she was surprised to see his eyes open. Then as he spoke, she was surprised to hear that his voice was devoid of any sleep. "You never let me explain."
There was no doubt in her soul that he wasn't referring to his sudden arrival in Trinidad. Instead, Vaughn clearly meant her reappearance in Hong Kong so many years ago. Sydney hadn't let him explain, hadn't had the real desire for an explanation. By then it was already obvious that her life was in pieces. Nothing he could have said would have made it any easier, or certainly not any better, despite his best intentions.
"Vaughn," she sighed, briefly peeling her eyes from his.
"It's true Sydney," he pressed on. Turning back to him, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's been over twenty years and I deserve the chance to explain."
"You said so yourself Vaughn, it's been over twenty years. What would be the point?"
"What's the point?" he replied, as she nodded skeptically. "The point is that it's something you should have let me do years ago. It's killed me, Sydney, knowing you never gave me at least a chance to try to explain. Instead, you just cast me aside," he bitterly recalled. Standing at his full height, he slowly approached her as he continued, "Damn it Sydney, you were back and you wouldn't let me near you! Do you have any idea how difficult that was?"
"Why are you doing this?" she hissed. "What's the point Vaughn? No amount of talking is going to go back and change what happened," she snapped. "Why are you even here? Why come here Vaughn? Why just show up and start this mess all over again? Haven't we gone through this enough times? It was decided a long time ago for us. You're just making this more difficult for both of us!"
Vaughn's usually vibrant eyes grew small as he glared at her. "Why am I here?" he repeated the question. Standing her ground, Sydney nodded. Lifting his voice he answered her, "Because I'm fifty-seven years old and I don't have any other place to go Syd. Is that what you want to hear? That I've got nowhere else to go, but here. Damn it, even Weiss is married! This is the only place I could think of," he confessed, his voice growing progressively lower throughout his tirade.
Studying him for a moment, Sydney silently sank down to the edge of the bed. After she released a heavy sigh, she met his eyes as he towered at his full height. "I'm listening."
"You have no idea what it was like for me Syd, for any of us. Damn, I still have nightmares about it," he muttered. Pulling a chair over from the desk, he dragged it over to a place in front of the couch. Finally he settled his body against the soft wood, unable to meet her eyes as he spoke. "Your... disappearance made all of us a mess. Dixon, Will, your father... Even Kendall and Carrie, who barely even knew you... But... It was the worst for me. Your father had already lost someone; he was far better at compartmentalizing, being stone faced than I'll ever be. You weren't just my work partner or my colleague, or even my girlfriend Syd..." Vaughn's green eyes finally reached hers. "Nearly every free moment I had - and some moments I *didn't* have - were spent with you. Every part of my day, of my life, Syd, and I had let myself get used to things that way," he confessed. He then looked away and allowed his voice to drop. "I liked it that way."
A short distance from him, she struggled to listen to his explanation as the tears pooled in her eyes. When a loud sniffle escaped her, she swiftly wiped the moisture from her eyes. The memories brought an obvious gathering of tears in front of his own eyes, tears that Vaughn refused to let escape. Finally, he continued.
"I spent... months looking for you, for Sloane or Sark, or any lead. Anything Syd... Then Kendall decided you were dead. After a few more months even your father and Dixon agreed..." he recalled. Venom suddenly appeared in his voice while he added, "I watched you become a damn star on some fucking wall Sydney. As if that was supposed to justify what happened, or appropriately commend all that you had done for the agency. Half the idiots at the memorial service hadn't even met you... I stood in front of your *grave* Sydney. The whole time knowing it was my fault -"
"Vaughn, no," she began to protest.
"It's the truth," he shook his head sadly. "I should have seen it, I should have gone in with you... There were a million things I could have done to change what happened to you Sydney. No one was closer to you or the situation than I was, and I let the agency down," he sighed. Tilting his eyes from hers he added, "I let you down."
Sniffling, she shook her head. "You never let me down, Vaughn. There was nothing you could have done," Sydney reasoned.
Vaughn nodded, quickly wiping the bottom of his nose before he continued, "I met Kate a year after you... disappeared," he recalled. "She was nothing like you. She was an illustrator. She still has her own comic strip," he explained. "We had fun. With her, I could forget... God Sydney, I just wanted to forget. I was starting to get numb, and I knew I'd never do you justice if I was numb... We'd been married for about five months when you reappeared," he recalled. Silently, Sydney accepted this information, aware that it would be useless to say anything about his already dissolved marriage, despite the pain it had caused her.
"I'm sorry Syd," his voice cracked as he continued, "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you after your return, that I couldn't be there the way you needed me... My hands were tied..."
"You were married Vaughn," she softly comforted him. "You were a good husband. You owed Kate your loyalty. I understand," she promised. What she spoke was the truth. Sydney Bristow understood, and even respected Michael Vaughn for his loyalty to his then-wife, but she made no comment of *liking* it.
"Things... They didn't work out the way I thought they would Syd. They haven't in a long time," he confessed. "I can't change the way things turned out, I can't go back and fix things. What I did, what happened, when you were... gone. I never wanted to hurt you Sydney, I would never betray your trust. I don't imagine that it's any consolation for you, but it is the truth."
"You went to Hong Kong, you brought me back to Los Angeles... You did everything you could for me," she assured him, her mind working through the painful memories. The first few months back in Los Angeles had been the most emotionally difficult time of her life. Nothing had been untouched by time. Except her. She had been desperate to understand everything.
"You pushed me away Sydney," Vaughn recalled. "Damn it, you just pushed me away... I felt like I'd lost you again."
Sydney's watery eyes grew as she glared at him. "What exactly was I supposed to do? You were *married*!"
"I wanted to be there for you Syd! You let Dixon and Will, and hell, even Weiss help you out. You wouldn't even let me be your friend," he growled.
"What would've been the point?"
"The point is, I could have helped you!"
Dropping her voice to a bitter hiss, she finally replied. "I was trying to get my life together! I had enough to deal with Vaughn! If I had you around, I would have done nothing but think about what I'd lost! I had to move on."
"You didn't have to cut me out of your life altogether Syd! You didn't have to ignore me or have me find out that you left the CIA from Kendall! For years I was your ally Sydney, I thought we were *friends* before anything else. You couldn't even give me the courtesy of saying goodbye!"
"I'm sorry that you weren't my first concern," she replied dryly. Growing bitter she continued, "Maybe I should have said goodbye, but being around you was not as easy for me as you seem to think it was! God Vaughn, I would have rather been in a dentist's chair in Taipei than look at you! It took me years before I could even think about you, the good and the bad, without getting upset! Damn it Vaughn, I thought what we had was important, and I come back less than two years later and you're married!"
"That's not fair Sydney!" he barked. "I thought you were *dead*! It's not like I went out *looking* for a wife! I was almost thirty-five when you disappeared. I was thinking about getting married and starting a family. Don't you dare fault me for wanting normalcy. It was perfectly fine with you when I shared it with *you*!"
"I wasn't dead!" she cruelly reminded him. "Every time I looked at you, all I could think was that it should have been *me*, Vaughn! You try having some sociopath who betrayed you and then is seemingly obsessed with ruining your life kidnap you, and see how you cope! Then to find out that you..." her voice cracked as she shook her head. "To find out that I'd lost you."
Vaughn's eyes slid shut as he swallowed back his tears. Clearing his throat, his green eyes grew visible as he looked at her. "You never had to lose me Sydney," he softly corrected her. "Maybe things weren't the way they were after you disappeared, but you never had to lose me. I never would have willingly walked out of your life."