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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It quickly became apparent to Sydney that the wait for Vaughn's return would be a day shorter than anticipated. When Vaughn had requested a weekend visit, he intended to arrive Friday evening, roughly twelve hours before she had expected him. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise, although she was forced to reschedule dinner with Peter to another evening. The easy-going teacher quickly agreed and any conflict was avoided.
Friday afternoon, closing her office for the day and answering only what sounded like the most necessary pleas of "Professor Bristow!", she arrived home long before the sun was scheduled to set. They'd spoken once during the week, and at the time Vaughn had been uncertain of when he'd leave Los Angeles. Determined not to appear too eager to him, or even to herself, she went about her normal routine once at home. Put clothes up on the line, walk Gehrig, shower and change. By five she was fighting the pins and needles, grabbing a book and sitting on the family room sofa. She then spent the next hour and a half re-reading the first two pages.
By the time she heard his car pulling into the driveway, she had yet to figure out the names of the central characters of the novel. Standing slowly, Sydney gave her outfit a quick survey, having made a conscious effort not to focus on what she wore. Still, the hope lingered that Vaughn would grace her with one of his less-than-subtle once-overs. Hushing a yapping Gehrig, she walked into the kitchen. Flipping on the radio as a cool breeze blew through the kitchen window, she hummed along with the nearly thirty year old John Mayer song on the radio, feigning casual as she heard him open her back gate and approach the back door.
"Hey," Vaughn called through the open screen door. As long as she was on the main level of her home, Sydney made it a custom to keep the back and front door of her home open, letting the fresh air circulate.
Beating the anxious butterflies, Sydney turned and smiled at him. "Hey," she greeted, walking over and letting him in. As he stepped in, Gehrig breezed past, quick to go romp around in the yard. "How was the drive?" she inquired, as he placed his duffel on the kitchen table and grinned at her.
"Not too bad," he explained. "I hope I'm not too early -"
"No, this is fine," she stopped him. Truth be told, if he'd been another hour later, she wondered if she would have gone insane. In most anxious situations, she picked up the phone and called her daughter. At that moment in time, however, Sydney wasn't sure that it would be best to tell her daughter about the new development in her life via phone. Instead, she was near certain it would be best to explain it to her daughter in person.
As the silence grew, seemingly massive in the few feet that separated them, her mind began to race. "Do you need to use the bathroom? Or do you want to shower? Are you hungry? I haven't -"
"I could use the bathroom," he cut off her ramble, his eyes twinkling. "Would you mind if I took a shower?"
"You don't have to ask," she corrected him. As ridiculous as it was, she wanted this man to feel at home in her home. To take for granted the simple things that had once been unspoken between them. Whether or not they could ever achieve that again, whether she even really wanted it, was yet to be seen.
"After I shower, we could go get something to eat. My treat."
"Vaughn, you don't have to -" Sydney began to protest.
Unconsciously lifting an eyebrow in a gesture she hadn't seen in over two decades, he shook his head, still smiling. "I want to, Syd."
"Okay," she nodded with a grin of her own. "Go shower, I'm going to bring down some pillows and blankets for later."
"Sounds good." Vaughn smiled before disappearing into the bathroom.
Turning around, Sydney came face to face with Gehrig, silently begging for re-entrance at the door. "Chase all the birds away big guy?" she teased, opening the screen door as the dog trotted in. For a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of watching her dog eat his dinner, listening as Vaughn rustled around in her bathroom. Exhaling heavily, she grabbed Zelda the cat off the table, scolding her in a low voice before she went to obtain the linens.
Upstairs, she grabbed the necessary linens and pillows. Alone in the small side hallway, she stared at the doors to her daughter's rooms. As always, the bedroom door was securely closed, but Claire's computer room door creaked open slightly. Sticking her head in, she smiled at the signs of her daughter, due to make her arrival in just a few short days. Two desks, one that had been Jack Bristow's when he was younger, and then a more contemporary computer desk. A radio was on the antique desk and a pair of aged, tearing pajama pants had been hastily tossed on top of the radio. Soon enough, Sydney remembered, and at the moment, she had plenty on her hands.
Taking a moment, she peeked into her own bedroom. Surveying the room from the doorway, she was pleased that she hadn't forgotten to turn off any lights or appliances in her daze. Grabbing an extra, unused pillow off of her bed, Sydney added it to her small but respectable pile of linens, before returning to the family room. With the pile resting on the sofa, she grabbed her glass of iced tea and strolled into the kitchen, hearing the water pound from the bathroom shower as she passed. Back in the kitchen she settled into the chair, grabbed the unread copy of the day's paper and forced herself to become interested.
Less than half an hour later he emerged, donning damp bed head, jeans and a t-shirt, along with a grin that she gladly returned. "Feel better?" she casually questioned, closing the newspaper, still no more certain of world events than she'd been an hour earlier.
"Yeah, thanks." His lips twisted into a charming half smile. "I left my bag in there. If that's a problem -"
"Vaughn, it's fine," she stopped him.
The man nodded before something caught his eye. "Is she supposed to be doing that?" he questioned.
Confused, Sydney followed his eyes to see one of her two black cats jumping onto the table and slinking across with authority. "Zelda!" She stood and sighed, gently grabbing the cat and placing her back onto the floor.
"How can you tell which one it is?" he chuckled.
"Zelda's collar's green, Calhoun's is pink."
"Hey, Zelda, isn't that a video game?"
"Yeah," Sydney grinned. "It is. A pretty popular one too."
"I didn't know you liked video games."
"Once in awhile," she shrugged. "Killing some human-eating cactus can get the adrenaline running. Claire loves them though. Will taught her when she was younger."
"Will?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "He was obsessed in college. It was scary."
"I bet," Vaughn laughed. "So," his smile slowly disappeared, as his hands slid into the pockets of his jeans. "Hungry?"
"I am." She stood. "It looks like it's going to rain, so it's probably not a good night for Seascape," she noted in disappointment, watching the clouds slowly form out her kitchen door. "There's a place in Arcata, by school, it serves Italian. How does that sound?"
"Good," he agreed. Grabbing her keys, Sydney flicked the kitchen lights out and locked the door as they departed from the house. "The dog's Gehrig, right?" he asked as she nodded. "And the cats are Calhoun, Zelda and...?"
"Jeter."
"I think I see a pattern here," he laughed.
"Claire named them," Sydney explained. "The cats can be trouble makers, but Gehrig's a really good dog," she added. Thanking him as he held the passenger's door for her, she slid into his car before he got in on the driver's side. "Did you ever get another dog?" she asked softly, as he started the car. The news of Donovan's death had passed on to her over a dozen years earlier through both Eric and Will.
"We did, but he was more Kate and Alex's dog than mine, so he's in Arizona now," he told her, his face blank as he pulled out of her driveway
Regretting the question, she glanced out the window and softly sighed. They couldn't just avoid the existence of Kate or Alexandra any more than she could omit Claire from her everyday conversation. Even so, she hadn't wanted to be the one to initiate discussing them. Particularly Kate. The conversation was inevitable, along with a lifetime of other things they had missed in one another's world, or just left unspoken. Just as Sydney suspected one day soon he'd want to talk about David.
"How many more days until Claire comes home?"
"Five. What about Alexandra?"
"It's her holiday with Kate. She's supposed to spend Christmas with me, depending on how things go," he explained, his voice cracking. "Are you going to LA for Christmas?"
"We usually don't finalize our plans until after Thanksgiving, but usually we spend Christmas in LA and New Years in Washington. We go back and forth between the two for Claire's birthday. One year we'll be in LA with Will, Marshall and the Dixons, then the next we'll spend it in Washington," she explained, careful not to mention who they spent time with in Washington. Vaughn certainly knew who they went to visit, and that was enough for her.
"When's Claire's birthday?" Vaughn asked. He'd always known it was sometime in December, he was just never sure when.
"December 21st."
"Right before Christmas."
"I was due on Christmas, actually. I hated the thought of giving birth on Christmas. No one would have ever given her different gifts. I still have to remind people to give her birthday *and* Christmas presents."
"You were out of the hospital in time for it though."
"Thankfully." She smiled. "Claire was a good baby though. Very self-entertaining. Still is. Even at six months old, I could just sit her on the sofa with a rattle and stuffed animals and she'd play by herself for an hour."
Vaughn couldn't help but smile, detecting the obvious joy the memories brought to Sydney. Despite the pain that she had endured, she'd had Claire. For that, he felt an unwavering gratitude to the young woman who he'd never even met yet, but had obviously brought Sydney years and years of joy, just as his own daughter had done for him.
Following her instructions, he pulled up in front of a small, modern building. Getting out of the car, they met at the sidewalk, Vaughn internally battling the instinct to place his hand on the small of her back as they entered the restaurant. "Claire loves it here, we always come here for her birthday dinners," she explained as he held the door open for her.
"Nice," he commented under his breath, surveying the restaurant. It was obviously a family establishment, and it wasn't too crowded for a Friday night.
"Hey Doctor Bristow," a lanky, pimple-faced teenager behind the cash register greeted.
"Hi Harry. How are you?" she greeted, approaching the counter as Vaughn stayed a step behind.
"Pretty good. When's Claire coming back?"
"Soon. I'm sure she'll want to see you soon."
"I'm going to beat her at air hockey soon Doc, don't listen to her when she tells you otherwise," the teen insisted.
Sydney laughed good-naturedly and grinned. "I'm sure you will."
"Want to make yourself at home? I'll have a waitress over in a few minutes."
"Thanks," she nodded. Glancing quickly at Vaughn, they walked over to a nearby booth, taking seats across from one another. "Harry's older brother is one of Claire's best friends. He's had a crush on her for an eternity," she explained as she shrugged her jacket off.
Nodding, a waitress appeared to take their drink orders before Vaughn could comment. Once their drinks were on the way and they were debating the menu, the conversation continued. "So how the hell did you manage to get your doctorate?"
For a moment her eyes remained glued to the menu, her cheeks slightly red as she grinned. Finally, she set the menu down and met his eyes. "It's not that big of a deal. Claire was nine when I graduated. I was only an adjunct professor with my masters. Once I got my doctorate, I became an associate professor and now I'm a full-fledged professor."
"How?" he asked again. "You had Claire and you worked full time Syd."
"I remember." Sydney smiled, taking a sip of her wine. "The doctorate program at the school was pretty new, but the school paid for a lot of it, since I was already a member of the faculty. I don't think I could have done it without Georgia. She would watch Claire a lot for me. Or Claire would sit in my office and read or color. When she got older she'd do homework. Sometimes she'd go to one of the libraries and read, or go use the swimming pool. I was really lucky that I was able to do it."
Vaughn smiled at her and nodded. "I didn't even know you wanted to get your doctorate."
"I didn't think I did. I'd also begun to think I'd never teach. So when I actually started to, getting my doctorate just made sense."
While he was considering her reply, the waitress reappeared to take their order. After thanking her and being told their meal would be out shortly, they sat silently. Outside the window, the rain had begun to fall and the bell over the restaurant door chimed. Pushing hair behind her ear, Sydney was seconds away from reopening the conversation when an unexpected figure appeared in front of their table.
"Sydney!" Peter grinned at her. Abruptly, the two stood, Sydney gracing him with a smile as Vaughn swiped his nose and studied his shoes.
"Peter. What are you doing here?"
"Dave and I were going to grab a pizza. We were supposed to hit the course but I don't think we'll be doing that tonight." He looked out the window as she nodded.
"Peter, this is Michael Vaughn. Vaughn, this is Peter Caselli. Michael is the man I was telling you about," she explained to Peter.
"Nice to meet you," the two men greeted, shaking hands.
"Sydney said you two used to work together, when she was in Los Angeles."
"That's right," Vaughn nodded, biting back the emotional sting when the other man instinctively reached for Sydney's hand.
"Bank work. Sounds like it was a lot of travel."
"It can be," he agreed.
"How long are you in town?"
"Just for the weekend. I still live in LA," Vaughn added, as the shorter man nodded.
"Well, if you've got some time, feel free to join us on the course. We're always looking for someone else to play with."
"I'm more of a hockey kind of guy."
Peter nodded and glanced over at Sydney. "Hockey was never really my sport."
"I noticed." She struggled with a smile, the other man's gaze burning into her soul.
"Hey, Pete!" Another man approached the group, slightly shorter than Peter. "Sydney," he nodded at her.
"Hi Dave," she smiled. Turning towards Vaughn, she continued the introductions. "Michael Vaughn, this is David Winchester. David teaches at Claire's old high school," she explained. Sydney then looked back at the high school teacher and added, "I used to work with Michael in Los Angeles."
"A lifetime ago now, wasn't it?" Dave chuckled. "Well, we should let you two catch up. It was great meeting you Michael," he commented. "I'll go get us a table." He slapped his friend on the back and walked towards the back of the restaurant.
"It was nice to meet you Michael. Enjoy your visit."
"Thanks, and good luck on your golf game," Vaughn wished. Looking down at his shoes, he was only slightly reassured that the couple kissed one another on the cheek before he disappeared to the back of the restaurant. Once he was out of sight, the two met one another's eyes. Seconds passed as they silently stood, surveying one another. Breaking the trance, Sydney slid back into her seat and began to eat her lukewarm meal. Sighing heavily, Vaughn did the same.
They ate quietly for a few minutes, few words were exchanged over the other's meal. Commenting that the food was nearly as good as Trattordi Di Nardi, he was honored with a wide smile before he set his fork down. Resting heavily against the booth, Sydney looked up at him in concern.
"Are you happy?" he asked softly.
Without hesitation or thought, Sydney answered automatically, "Of course."
At her age, there was very little not to be happy about. A home she loved, a daughter she loved and adored; even pets she loved. Her position at the university had risen steadily, as her had popularity among her students. Somehow she had stumbled upon a nearly perfect life for herself, in a near perfect location. Even so, she knew she was even happier here, in this moment, in his company.
Vaughn nodded and wondered if it was wrong to be slightly disappointed with her quick answer. After twenty years it was ridiculous to think that she still needed him to be happy. You grow your own happiness with what life gives you; of the billions of people on earth who knew that, Sydney was the master. "Peter seems like a nice guy," he finally spoke.
"Yeah," she nodded, eyes set on her plate. "He really is." She glanced back at him, the tense draw of his face and the heart wrenching look in his eyes, tugged at her every instinct. Quietly, Sydney attempted to amend his pain. "If things had been different -"
"I know Syd," he cut her off. For months, those words had haunted him, knowing he'd been with Alice and was still continuing to fall more and more in love with Sydney Bristow. Hearing her unconsciously return his own words two decades later, stung more than he could have predicted.
Silently they finished their meal, both turning down the waitress' offer of dessert when she returned. As the check arrived, the pair slowly stood, Sydney glancing briefly at him as she slipped back into her jacket. Despite her protests, Vaughn picked up the check and walked to the register, Sydney keeping pace with him. As he pulled the correct amount out of his wallet, handing it to the young man, she placed a hand on his arm.
"Is that Alexandra?" she asked, her eyes having caught on to the one photo in his wallet.
"You've never seen a picture of her?" He glanced at her in surprise. When Sydney shook her head, he pulled the picture out of the plastic cover. "She looks just like Kate," he explained.
Only partially hearing him, Sydney nodded. Instead, she was looking at his daughter, given her first hint of what his former wife might look like. Although she was sitting in her photo, it was obvious Alexandra was a tall young woman. Her hair was a far lighter tone of blonde than her father's had ever been, and had big blue eyes. Knowing that he hadn't married a woman who had any resemblance to her, sent mixed emotions pumping through her system. Glancing back at Alexandra, she realized the only recognizable Vaughn feature that his daughter carried was a dimpled chin.
"She's beautiful." Sydney smiled, finally handing the picture back to its owner.
"Thanks." He smiled uncomfortably as they departed the restaurant.
Again, silence tightly tucked around them during the short car ride home. Even the music Sydney flicked on did nothing to break the air. The ride from the restaurant, while brief, was plenty long enough for the two passengers. Grabbing her keys, the two dashed into the house, unsuccessful at avoiding the pounding rain. For a few seconds, she struggled with her keys before they finally entered the house.
Standing in her dim kitchen, neither said a word as Gehrig sniffed them and returned to his blanket. Pushing damp hair behind her ear she finally broke the silence. "I'm pretty tired."
"Yeah," he softly agreed, nodding slightly.
"Do you need anything?"
Vaughn shook his head, gazing at her in the dark room. Once upon a time this had been so easy. Once upon a time there had been no awkwardness, no unsure emotions, and certainly no regrets. In another lifetime, there would have been no question that they were *both* tired after returning from a Friday night dinner, although they'd likely be up until early the next morning. That phase of his life, of their lives, now lived only in memories.
"I'm going to go up to bed then," Sydney explained.
"I'll see you in the morning," he agreed. "Sweet dreams Syd," he called to her form as she smiled, softly wished him the same, and disappeared up the stairs.
Despite her exhaustion, Sydney did very little than dance on the brink of sleep for most of the night. The images that she had seen in Vaughn's eyes in the kitchen that evening followed her to her dreams. Memories of Zamboni's and hockey games; lazy Friday nights and even lazier Saturday mornings. Thoughts of dinners with friends, when there was no need for her to introduce him, because her friends were his. Then the horrible memory of a safehouse in Hong Kong, and how Arvin Sloane had managed to wreck the one thing in her life that had always been honest and real.
Eventually, the memories, good and bad, ended and sleep crept in. For once, she was able to sleep until well after the sun woke up. Rolling over in her bed, Sydney was surprised to see that she'd managed to rope in nearly seven hours of sleep. Rising slowly from her warm comforters and fluffy pillows, she slipped her feet into her slippers. She then proceeded down the stairs cautiously, not wanting to wake her guest if he was still sleeping.
Turning the corner, she was noticeably surprised to see the sofa folded back up, the blankets and pillows neatly piled at the end. Slowly, she padded into the kitchen, coming across a sight she hadn't seen in ages. Michael Vaughn sat comfortably at her kitchen table, obviously fresh from a shower, reading the newspaper. Folding the paper down, he smiled at her as she walked in.
"Hey. I hope you don't mind, but I got your paper."
"No." She shook her head, grabbing a glass from the pantry. "That's fine. How did you sleep?" she inquired, pouring juice into her glass.
"Good," he answered. Getting comfortable in her chair, Sydney took a sip of her juice before placing it on the table. Picking up the front page of the newspaper, she watched as he picked up her glass and proceeded to drink from it as well.
"I could put on the coffee," Sydney offered.
Vaughn shook his head. "Juice is fine," he replied.
"It cleared up," she noted through the window. "I could make toast and we can eat on the deck," she suggested.
Glancing out the window, he seemed to consider her offer for a moment before he met her eyes. "You could show me the pier."
Approximately thirty-eight minutes later, her car came to a halting stop in the empty pier parking lot. Few Trinidad residents were interested in the pier on a slightly overcast morning in November. Instead, they were alone, getting out of the car as she grabbed a wax bag from the floor on the passenger's side.
"This is it," she sighed, meeting him at the front of the car. Together, the pair approached the wooden pier, walking by Seascape in the process. "They really do have the best seafood," she spoke in the direction of the restaurant.
"I didn't even know you enjoyed seafood that much."
"It's an acquired taste," she shrugged. Slowly, they began to walk along the planks, his eyes on her as she pulled a large muffin from the wax page. To Vaughn's surprise she proceeded to break it in half, pausing momentarily to hand him the top.
"This place is beautiful," he complimented, taking in the fresh air, slowly moving clouds, and rumbling waves underfoot.
"I read about this place in a brochure the university sent me before I took the job," Sydney explained. Meeting his eyes, he detected the slight color in her cheeks when she added, "I think the pier was part of the reason I took the job."
"Do you come here a lot?"
"Actually, I lived in Trinidad for two months before I first came here," she recalled. Unable to look at him, she clarified. "David took me here."
Silently he nodded, the duo reaching the end of the pier. As she ate the bottom half of the muffin, he wondered why she chose that moment to finally mention her former fiancé. The name brought back memories of a drive he took with Jack Bristow over fifteen years ago. The only words spoken on that seemingly endless drive had been whether or not to spare the man's life. Their decision was made for them when the man they encountered already reeked of liquor before noon, and whose skin was already showing the signs of far too many years of drinking. After David's brief but intense encounter with Jack Bristow and Michael Vaughn, it was obvious that he would not be bothering either Sydney or Claire ever again.
Around them, the wind blew its fury, whipping her hair off of her face. The temptation to look at her was too much for him as he turned slightly to openly gaze at her. "Why?"
Surprised, Sydney's brown eyes were round as she met his. For a moment, silence ensued as she swallowed the remainder of her muffin. She then pried her eyes away from his, studying some invisible point out in the ocean. "Leaving Los Angeles was *the* hardest thing I've ever done," she recalled, her long fingers pulling her hair off of her face as the wind suddenly died down. "Georgia came over the first day, so did Bill and Marie - they live on my left," she explained. "They came over, introduced themselves and welcomed me to the neighborhood. Bill taught at the university at the time; he's been retired for a long time though... I made friends with some of the faculty at the school, but... It was a lot like it was for me in college again," she remembered. "I really just went to work and stayed home. To be honest, I wasn't even interested in establishing a life here, I just wanted to be left alone."
Pausing for a moment, Vaughn waited for the inevitable, bracing himself as she let out a heavy sigh, still looking away from him. "I met David a few months after I moved here. It was a Halloween party thrown by a friend of a friend... He was so outgoing and friendly. I remember we'd go grocery shopping and he'd just stand in line and talk to whoever was there, like everyone in the world was his old friend or something," she chuckled at the memories as she shook her head. "He got me out there again, he helped me rebuild everything here... There were times when he could be *such* a nice guy. Then I got pregnant, and I thought... I thought, maybe things would go my way," she sighed.
"I was so busy, working and then getting ready for a baby... That's not true," she amended, more to herself than him. "I started to notice that it was more than just a drink at night. That he'd be drinking on the boat, or at lunch... At the time, it didn't seem like a lot. He was working, it was going well, and no one else seemed to think anything was wrong..." Sydney remembered. "Plus, he was *so* excited about the baby. When he was sober, he was so wonderful with children... Hell, even when he wasn't sober he could be so good with them. Will pointed it out to me at Claire's baptism. That he was drinking far too much, and that it was a regular occurrence," she sighed, and her brown eyes finally met his. "I knew that by then. I did, but it wasn't until Will said something that I realized it wasn't just my imagination."
"Syd..."
"It wasn't until I tried to get him to stop drinking, to point out that he had a problem, that he got violent," she carefully weighed her words and her tone, no longer looking at him. "At first, we'd fight and David would grab me... I'd tell him to let go and he would. He really would. Then he'd cry and apologize, say that he hadn't meant to hurt me, that his temper got out of hand... I would usually kick him out, then he'd come back in ten days or a few weeks and he'd be sober. He'd stay that way for a week or so, once it even lasted a whole month, but it would always start again..."
As much as Vaughn wanted to listen, as desperately as he wanted to offer her a shoulder, he couldn't help but ask the question that had haunted him. "Why didn't you fight back?"
"The last night... I still think he broke my wrist." She sighed and glanced down at her wrist. "My face was all bruised up... Up until that night, it had never been anything other than trying to hold me during an argument. He'd never really been violent before that night..." She paused for a moment. "That night I ensured that Claire would be the only child he'd ever have," she confessed with a smirk.
Unable to stop himself, he chuckled and shook his head. After a few moments of laughing with her, Vaughn fell back into a more serious mind frame. "I still don't understand why you put up with it," he commented.
"Until I moved to Trinidad, I'd never been alone before," Sydney calmly pointed out. "First there were nannies, then boarding school, then I roomed with Francie in college, then Danny and I were living together, and eventually I lived again with Francie," she pointed out. "I wasn't *scared* of being alone, I just didn't like it. I liked having someone there when I got home, someone to talk to, someone to just share my day with... Then we had Claire," she sighed. "I wanted to give my daughter more than I ever had. I wanted to give her a family, and a good childhood. I wanted her to look back on growing up and not feel as if I'd forced her into anything, or alienated myself from her."
"What happened?" he prompted.
"I realized that I could give Claire more than I had. That I could be a good, strong, loving and devoted mother even if I was single. That by giving her that, I was giving her more than I had. I realized then that I was teaching her that it was okay, or even normal to accept being treated so poorly; that it was all right to let someone hurt you... I hated myself for that. I wouldn't do that. I will let Claire become whatever person she wants to be, but I refuse to let her become that woman."
"I don't think she will," Vaughn commented.
"Neither do I," Sydney grinned. "In the end, I have given her more than I had. I'm lucky, I really am. She was always such a good baby, and I think she's given me more than I could ever give her."
"Did you love him?"
Surprised by the question, Sydney looked at him for a moment before she looked away again. "I think I wanted to. I confused that with actually loving him. He helped me create this life here; he helped me make my daughter... I'll always be grateful to him for that. David is one half of the person Claire is, at least genetically. I love my daughter. I don't think we would be as close as we are if it wasn't for him. Even if he'd cleaned up and stayed around, it would have just ended disastrously anyway," she sighed. "She teases me that I have the worse relationship taste in the world." Sydney let a silly smile spread across her face. "Sometimes I think she's right."
"Hey!" he indignantly protested.
"Sorry," she laughed and looked at him. "Present company excluded."
Silently, he smiled and leaned against the rail. Softly Vaughn realized, "It's okay. Claire probably doesn't know about me anyway."
"No..." Her smile vanished. "She doesn't," she conceded. For a while they stood there, side by side, their arms nearly brushing as they watched the morning waves continue to silently roll in. Sydney watched the familiar sights of the sea birds and the otters going about their morning routine, safe and at peace in the area, as he silently studied her. Abruptly, she ended their tranquil silence and directly met his eyes. "What did you and my father do to him?"
"Excuse me?" he stood up straight, an eyebrow instinctively rising.
"Weiss told me," she stopped him. "You and my father left LA the day before David left, and didn't return until the day after. When I left home that morning, he was not cooperating about leaving or child custody or anything. I return home, everything is gone, and I never hear from him again."
"Maybe he came to his senses," Vaughn shrugged the suggestion. Not looking at her, he leaned his frame against the rail, looking back out at the water.
"Vaughn."
Briefly, he glanced back at her and then back at the water. "Your neighbor, Georgia, she heard the arguing. Saw that you were hurt. She called Will; Will called your father. I found out where Jack was going and what happened and I offered to help."
"Why?"
"Why?" He looked at her in surprise. "Sydney, someone was hurting you. I wasn't just going to sit back and let that happen, no more than Jack was."
"I'd been gone for almost three years."
"So? Is that supposed to make a difference? Damn it Sydney, I wasn't going to do nothing. What? Do you think 'out of sight' means 'out of mind' or some bullshit like that?" he snapped. Shaking his head, he looked away from her again and sighed. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself, knowing I hadn't done anything when I could have stopped it."
"Did you kill him?" she whispered.
Chuckling, Vaughn shook is head. "No. Although we considered it," he confessed. "We escorted him off of the property, made sure he had everything he could possibly need. We had a few... words with him, and put him on a plane to Nebraska."
"Nebraska? What's there?"
"Nothing," he smirked. "That was the point."
"He didn't even try to get joint custody."
Solemnly he nodded. "I know."
"Thank you," Sydney said softly, studying her hands.
"You could have done it yourself Sydney."
"I didn't want to hurt him... Not physically. For so long, when we'd fight, he'd grab me and I'd have the instinct to hurt him... I knew what to do, how to stop him; I didn't want to hurt him. David wasn't some nameless man in my way when I was trying to complete a mission, or who was purposely out to hurt me. I thought I could do it," she sighed. "I thought about it. I'd lay awake at night, towards the end, and I'd think about what I could do. I didn't want to though. I knew that deep down he wasn't *trying* to hurt me, that he was sick, that he had a problem. It wasn't like it was when I was doing it for a living, when I never had to see the people or the repercussions... Even with... Francie's clone," she swallowed back the tears. "I knew then that it *wasn't* Francie. That there was no way it could be Francie. It looked like her, but it wasn't, and even that was hard... And it wasn't just me, it was Claire. I just wanted to give her what I didn't have."
"You did Syd."
"I know," she sighed and nodded. "And I'm always going to have regrets. Things I wish I'd done differently or been able to give her. I love her, and I know she loves me. She'll actually still say it, which I think makes me luckier than most mothers of teenagers," she chuckled.
"I think you're right," Vaughn agreed.
"I'm sorry," Sydney looked at him apologetically. "I don't mean to -"
"It's fine Syd," he stopped her. He looked out at the water, the wind running through his hair. "I'm Alex's father; our relationship is different than what you have with Claire. The circumstances are different, the people are different... I love my daughter. I know she loves me, and she knows I'm there if she needs me," he sighed and looked at her. "All I can do is hope she asks."
After a moment of contemplation, her arm brushed against his as she reached for his hand. For the first time in far too long, their fingers intertwined as she softly sighed. "I'm sure she does Vaughn."
Suddenly, he chuckled and looked over at her, his lips twitching adorably. "You're never going to call me Michael, are you?"
"Vaughn." Her eyes twinkled, her own mouth curving into a smile. At her side, her companion shook his head and looked back at the water. Not that Michael Vaughn minded. When it came down to it, he firmly believed he preferred the Vaughn Sydney Bristow knew, to the Michael that the rest of the world acknowledged.
"I think it's going to rain," he sighed, as the clouds grew darker, the wind once again picking up after a brief reprieve.
"I don't think it's rained two weeks in a row in years. Only you would pick the first two rainy weekends in years to come visit," she teased as he grinned.
"C'mon Syd," he pulled away from the wooden rail, taking her hand with him. Silently, she shook her head, silently walking back to the car, her hand tucked comfortably in his.
The morning wasn't a rushed one. Instead, Vaughn sat in the kitchen, the two debating sports and current politics as she began making preparations for Thanksgiving. They talked about movies and music, television shows and sports. Neither brought up their children or past significant others. Instead, for a few short hours they were still the Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn of a seemingly other world; two people with nothing else to do on a Saturday but debate who was the best goalie in the NHL or which Frank Sinatra song was the most memorable.
"Thank god hockey is indoors," Vaughn sighed, watching the rain pour furiously outside the French doors of her living room. Despite the rain, she had opened one of the doors, the fresh air ventilating the house.
Sydney looked up from her spot on the double glider. For nearly an hour, she'd sat there, curled up with her socked feet comfortably tucked under her denim-covered legs. At first, she'd been busy correcting papers and working on her upcoming classes. By then, however, she was comfortably reading a book for pleasure. When her eyes rose from her book, she didn't even try to hide the smile at what she uncovered. Vaughn lay stretched comfortably on the longer sofa, one elbow tucked under a throw pillow that he used to prop up his head, while he anxiously waited for the Kings' first afternoon game of the season.
"You would sit out in the rain and not even think twice," she challenged.
"Probably," he conceded with a half smile. "When I was a kid I used to play in the snow."
"That doesn't surprise me," she murmured, looking back at her book.
"Blizzards Syd. Hail."
Glancing quickly over the top of her book she inquired, "Were you trying to worry your mother?"
"I was too busy playing to worry about that," he corrected. "I would go inside, sometimes."
"And then you'd play pool and hustle the unassuming locals," she softly recalled from behind the pages of her book.
"I never said anything about hustling," Vaughn playfully protested.
As she rolled her eyes Sydney explained, "Hustling was implied."
"Well, a college kid's got to make a living," he pointed out.
After she quickly marked her page, Sydney looked up at him and teased, "There are easier ways of making a living."
"I had fun," he finished, looking back at the television. "Can you see okay from there Syd?" he asked, watching the opening of the game. From her angle Vaughn couldn't help but wonder if the light bounced too brightly off of the television, making the screen difficult to see.
"I'm fine," she promised.
"Is it always like this here?" he murmured. Although his eyes never left the television screen, Vaughn sensed her questioning look. "Always this..." He hesitated. The last thing he wanted to say was easy; he knew that no life was easy. Instead, he quickly added a more appropriate word. "Quiet."
"You're a long, long way from Los Angeles, Agent Vaughn," Sydney teased as his lips moved into a half smile. Sincerely she pressed on, "I know it's not as fast-paced or exciting as LA, but -"
"I like it," he stopped, removing his eyes from the television, looking at her just long enough to drive home his point.
"The game's starting," she pointed out with a smile, as his eyes finally returned to the TV.
The game ended nearly an hour after the sun set, as Jeopardy! came on and just as the evening news came to a close. Outside the rain continued to pour, the wind rattling through the screen doors of the house. Tucked safely inside Sydney Bristow's home, the two sat down in the kitchen to a simple dinner of soup and sandwiches. Neither had been especially hungry as dinnertime rolled around, and she had suggested one of Claire's favorite combinations.
"You're leaving tomorrow?" Sydney posed the question as the meal began, studying her plate instead of his eyes.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Back to work Monday morning," he explained as she nodded. "I'll probably leave in the morning."
"Will you -"
"I'm not going to leave without saying goodbye Syd," he promised her.
"You'll have to come back again. We can go to Seascape."
"I will," he met her eyes and vowed. "I think Zelda likes me," Vaughn noted as the black cat leapt directly into his lap, and comfortably settled there.
"She's a big flirt," Sydney grinned. "You should probably leave early tomorrow too," she sadly realized. "The roads will be messy."
"I'll be careful," he insisted. "You must be excited," he commented as her face twisted in confusion. "Claire coming home; having Peter over for Thanksgiving. I know how important it used to be to you," Vaughn explained. All he could do was wonder why he was doing this to himself. Just like he still wondered why he asked about Noah all those years ago; asking how the mission with him had gone as the knowledge that she'd slept with him sunk deep into his gut. The only consolation he now had was his near certainty that she had yet to sleep with Peter.
"I'm excited about Claire coming home," she smiled. "Peter will probably drop by," she softly confirmed. "Everyone drops in and out though," her voice returned to its normal tone as she explained. "Everyone drops in here on Thanksgiving. My friends from work, Georgia and the kids... Everyone." She shrugged. "I usually make enough to feed the entire town for a week."
Vaughn smiled, his mind conjuring up the image of Sydney and Claire Bristow working in sync in the kitchen, preparing a master Thanksgiving feast. The bitter taste of envy reappeared in his mouth as he considered that it would be not him, but Peter, in his seat come Thursday; that the shorter high school teacher would be the one partaking in the day. The taste turned metallic as his mind added in that Peter had met Claire Bristow, knew of the type of day-to-day life that Sydney had created for herself, while he was still an outsider. When he thought of it that way, he was left to wonder why he hadn't violently greeted the man the other day.
"Peter's mother died in April," Sydney added. "He lived with her. He'd been taking care of her... So he doesn't really have anywhere else to go." Across from her, she was only faintly relieved to see him nod. Why his approval carried such weight, was a question she didn't have the emotional energy to answer. Not yet at least.
"That's nice of you Syd." His voice still cracked, despite the sincerity that his statement carried.
"We've been friends for a few years," she struggled to explain. "Claire adores him... He's a really nice guy. I think he really liked you too."
Vaughn choked on a bitter smile at her words. "C'mon." He put his wrinkled paper napkin on the table and slowly stood.
"Where are you going?" she asked, instantly concerned that she had pushed him away.
With a quick check out the window, he was glad to see the skies had died down, although the newspapers predicted showers again later that night. "Let's go for a ride." He walked over to her, expectantly holding his hand out.
"What? Vaughn -"
"It stopped raining and the top of my car goes down. When was the last time you were in a convertible?" he challenged. "Let's go." He took her hand, gently tugging Sydney to her feet. Grabbing their keys off the counter in one swoop of his hand, he led her out the door.
"Where are we going?" she inquired as he opened the passenger's door of his car for her.
"I'm going to look around the area," he explained, her confusion only growing as he got in on his side. "Trust me, Syd," he pointed out as he twisted the keys in the ignition. Granting him a deliciously large smile, she shook her head and settled back against the seat as he began to drive.
The stars slowly twinkled overhead as he drove for nearly two hours. At first she was an alert co-pilot, directing him by places and things in Trinidad and the surrounding towns that meant the most to her. Sydney even managed to direct him by the building she taught the majority of her glasses in. Eventually, the music and the warm wind blowing around her lulled her into a comfortable sleep. In the driver's seat, turning down Springsteen just a bit so she wouldn't awake, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. With her head rolled onto her shoulder, her eyes closed, and her lips opened just slightly, Vaughn gently reached for her hand.
Holding her slightly smaller hand in his, he drove back to the house, wondering how he would manage to tell her that after twenty years of searching, he'd finally discovered where he belonged.
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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It quickly became apparent to Sydney that the wait for Vaughn's return would be a day shorter than anticipated. When Vaughn had requested a weekend visit, he intended to arrive Friday evening, roughly twelve hours before she had expected him. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise, although she was forced to reschedule dinner with Peter to another evening. The easy-going teacher quickly agreed and any conflict was avoided.
Friday afternoon, closing her office for the day and answering only what sounded like the most necessary pleas of "Professor Bristow!", she arrived home long before the sun was scheduled to set. They'd spoken once during the week, and at the time Vaughn had been uncertain of when he'd leave Los Angeles. Determined not to appear too eager to him, or even to herself, she went about her normal routine once at home. Put clothes up on the line, walk Gehrig, shower and change. By five she was fighting the pins and needles, grabbing a book and sitting on the family room sofa. She then spent the next hour and a half re-reading the first two pages.
By the time she heard his car pulling into the driveway, she had yet to figure out the names of the central characters of the novel. Standing slowly, Sydney gave her outfit a quick survey, having made a conscious effort not to focus on what she wore. Still, the hope lingered that Vaughn would grace her with one of his less-than-subtle once-overs. Hushing a yapping Gehrig, she walked into the kitchen. Flipping on the radio as a cool breeze blew through the kitchen window, she hummed along with the nearly thirty year old John Mayer song on the radio, feigning casual as she heard him open her back gate and approach the back door.
"Hey," Vaughn called through the open screen door. As long as she was on the main level of her home, Sydney made it a custom to keep the back and front door of her home open, letting the fresh air circulate.
Beating the anxious butterflies, Sydney turned and smiled at him. "Hey," she greeted, walking over and letting him in. As he stepped in, Gehrig breezed past, quick to go romp around in the yard. "How was the drive?" she inquired, as he placed his duffel on the kitchen table and grinned at her.
"Not too bad," he explained. "I hope I'm not too early -"
"No, this is fine," she stopped him. Truth be told, if he'd been another hour later, she wondered if she would have gone insane. In most anxious situations, she picked up the phone and called her daughter. At that moment in time, however, Sydney wasn't sure that it would be best to tell her daughter about the new development in her life via phone. Instead, she was near certain it would be best to explain it to her daughter in person.
As the silence grew, seemingly massive in the few feet that separated them, her mind began to race. "Do you need to use the bathroom? Or do you want to shower? Are you hungry? I haven't -"
"I could use the bathroom," he cut off her ramble, his eyes twinkling. "Would you mind if I took a shower?"
"You don't have to ask," she corrected him. As ridiculous as it was, she wanted this man to feel at home in her home. To take for granted the simple things that had once been unspoken between them. Whether or not they could ever achieve that again, whether she even really wanted it, was yet to be seen.
"After I shower, we could go get something to eat. My treat."
"Vaughn, you don't have to -" Sydney began to protest.
Unconsciously lifting an eyebrow in a gesture she hadn't seen in over two decades, he shook his head, still smiling. "I want to, Syd."
"Okay," she nodded with a grin of her own. "Go shower, I'm going to bring down some pillows and blankets for later."
"Sounds good." Vaughn smiled before disappearing into the bathroom.
Turning around, Sydney came face to face with Gehrig, silently begging for re-entrance at the door. "Chase all the birds away big guy?" she teased, opening the screen door as the dog trotted in. For a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of watching her dog eat his dinner, listening as Vaughn rustled around in her bathroom. Exhaling heavily, she grabbed Zelda the cat off the table, scolding her in a low voice before she went to obtain the linens.
Upstairs, she grabbed the necessary linens and pillows. Alone in the small side hallway, she stared at the doors to her daughter's rooms. As always, the bedroom door was securely closed, but Claire's computer room door creaked open slightly. Sticking her head in, she smiled at the signs of her daughter, due to make her arrival in just a few short days. Two desks, one that had been Jack Bristow's when he was younger, and then a more contemporary computer desk. A radio was on the antique desk and a pair of aged, tearing pajama pants had been hastily tossed on top of the radio. Soon enough, Sydney remembered, and at the moment, she had plenty on her hands.
Taking a moment, she peeked into her own bedroom. Surveying the room from the doorway, she was pleased that she hadn't forgotten to turn off any lights or appliances in her daze. Grabbing an extra, unused pillow off of her bed, Sydney added it to her small but respectable pile of linens, before returning to the family room. With the pile resting on the sofa, she grabbed her glass of iced tea and strolled into the kitchen, hearing the water pound from the bathroom shower as she passed. Back in the kitchen she settled into the chair, grabbed the unread copy of the day's paper and forced herself to become interested.
Less than half an hour later he emerged, donning damp bed head, jeans and a t-shirt, along with a grin that she gladly returned. "Feel better?" she casually questioned, closing the newspaper, still no more certain of world events than she'd been an hour earlier.
"Yeah, thanks." His lips twisted into a charming half smile. "I left my bag in there. If that's a problem -"
"Vaughn, it's fine," she stopped him.
The man nodded before something caught his eye. "Is she supposed to be doing that?" he questioned.
Confused, Sydney followed his eyes to see one of her two black cats jumping onto the table and slinking across with authority. "Zelda!" She stood and sighed, gently grabbing the cat and placing her back onto the floor.
"How can you tell which one it is?" he chuckled.
"Zelda's collar's green, Calhoun's is pink."
"Hey, Zelda, isn't that a video game?"
"Yeah," Sydney grinned. "It is. A pretty popular one too."
"I didn't know you liked video games."
"Once in awhile," she shrugged. "Killing some human-eating cactus can get the adrenaline running. Claire loves them though. Will taught her when she was younger."
"Will?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "He was obsessed in college. It was scary."
"I bet," Vaughn laughed. "So," his smile slowly disappeared, as his hands slid into the pockets of his jeans. "Hungry?"
"I am." She stood. "It looks like it's going to rain, so it's probably not a good night for Seascape," she noted in disappointment, watching the clouds slowly form out her kitchen door. "There's a place in Arcata, by school, it serves Italian. How does that sound?"
"Good," he agreed. Grabbing her keys, Sydney flicked the kitchen lights out and locked the door as they departed from the house. "The dog's Gehrig, right?" he asked as she nodded. "And the cats are Calhoun, Zelda and...?"
"Jeter."
"I think I see a pattern here," he laughed.
"Claire named them," Sydney explained. "The cats can be trouble makers, but Gehrig's a really good dog," she added. Thanking him as he held the passenger's door for her, she slid into his car before he got in on the driver's side. "Did you ever get another dog?" she asked softly, as he started the car. The news of Donovan's death had passed on to her over a dozen years earlier through both Eric and Will.
"We did, but he was more Kate and Alex's dog than mine, so he's in Arizona now," he told her, his face blank as he pulled out of her driveway
Regretting the question, she glanced out the window and softly sighed. They couldn't just avoid the existence of Kate or Alexandra any more than she could omit Claire from her everyday conversation. Even so, she hadn't wanted to be the one to initiate discussing them. Particularly Kate. The conversation was inevitable, along with a lifetime of other things they had missed in one another's world, or just left unspoken. Just as Sydney suspected one day soon he'd want to talk about David.
"How many more days until Claire comes home?"
"Five. What about Alexandra?"
"It's her holiday with Kate. She's supposed to spend Christmas with me, depending on how things go," he explained, his voice cracking. "Are you going to LA for Christmas?"
"We usually don't finalize our plans until after Thanksgiving, but usually we spend Christmas in LA and New Years in Washington. We go back and forth between the two for Claire's birthday. One year we'll be in LA with Will, Marshall and the Dixons, then the next we'll spend it in Washington," she explained, careful not to mention who they spent time with in Washington. Vaughn certainly knew who they went to visit, and that was enough for her.
"When's Claire's birthday?" Vaughn asked. He'd always known it was sometime in December, he was just never sure when.
"December 21st."
"Right before Christmas."
"I was due on Christmas, actually. I hated the thought of giving birth on Christmas. No one would have ever given her different gifts. I still have to remind people to give her birthday *and* Christmas presents."
"You were out of the hospital in time for it though."
"Thankfully." She smiled. "Claire was a good baby though. Very self-entertaining. Still is. Even at six months old, I could just sit her on the sofa with a rattle and stuffed animals and she'd play by herself for an hour."
Vaughn couldn't help but smile, detecting the obvious joy the memories brought to Sydney. Despite the pain that she had endured, she'd had Claire. For that, he felt an unwavering gratitude to the young woman who he'd never even met yet, but had obviously brought Sydney years and years of joy, just as his own daughter had done for him.
Following her instructions, he pulled up in front of a small, modern building. Getting out of the car, they met at the sidewalk, Vaughn internally battling the instinct to place his hand on the small of her back as they entered the restaurant. "Claire loves it here, we always come here for her birthday dinners," she explained as he held the door open for her.
"Nice," he commented under his breath, surveying the restaurant. It was obviously a family establishment, and it wasn't too crowded for a Friday night.
"Hey Doctor Bristow," a lanky, pimple-faced teenager behind the cash register greeted.
"Hi Harry. How are you?" she greeted, approaching the counter as Vaughn stayed a step behind.
"Pretty good. When's Claire coming back?"
"Soon. I'm sure she'll want to see you soon."
"I'm going to beat her at air hockey soon Doc, don't listen to her when she tells you otherwise," the teen insisted.
Sydney laughed good-naturedly and grinned. "I'm sure you will."
"Want to make yourself at home? I'll have a waitress over in a few minutes."
"Thanks," she nodded. Glancing quickly at Vaughn, they walked over to a nearby booth, taking seats across from one another. "Harry's older brother is one of Claire's best friends. He's had a crush on her for an eternity," she explained as she shrugged her jacket off.
Nodding, a waitress appeared to take their drink orders before Vaughn could comment. Once their drinks were on the way and they were debating the menu, the conversation continued. "So how the hell did you manage to get your doctorate?"
For a moment her eyes remained glued to the menu, her cheeks slightly red as she grinned. Finally, she set the menu down and met his eyes. "It's not that big of a deal. Claire was nine when I graduated. I was only an adjunct professor with my masters. Once I got my doctorate, I became an associate professor and now I'm a full-fledged professor."
"How?" he asked again. "You had Claire and you worked full time Syd."
"I remember." Sydney smiled, taking a sip of her wine. "The doctorate program at the school was pretty new, but the school paid for a lot of it, since I was already a member of the faculty. I don't think I could have done it without Georgia. She would watch Claire a lot for me. Or Claire would sit in my office and read or color. When she got older she'd do homework. Sometimes she'd go to one of the libraries and read, or go use the swimming pool. I was really lucky that I was able to do it."
Vaughn smiled at her and nodded. "I didn't even know you wanted to get your doctorate."
"I didn't think I did. I'd also begun to think I'd never teach. So when I actually started to, getting my doctorate just made sense."
While he was considering her reply, the waitress reappeared to take their order. After thanking her and being told their meal would be out shortly, they sat silently. Outside the window, the rain had begun to fall and the bell over the restaurant door chimed. Pushing hair behind her ear, Sydney was seconds away from reopening the conversation when an unexpected figure appeared in front of their table.
"Sydney!" Peter grinned at her. Abruptly, the two stood, Sydney gracing him with a smile as Vaughn swiped his nose and studied his shoes.
"Peter. What are you doing here?"
"Dave and I were going to grab a pizza. We were supposed to hit the course but I don't think we'll be doing that tonight." He looked out the window as she nodded.
"Peter, this is Michael Vaughn. Vaughn, this is Peter Caselli. Michael is the man I was telling you about," she explained to Peter.
"Nice to meet you," the two men greeted, shaking hands.
"Sydney said you two used to work together, when she was in Los Angeles."
"That's right," Vaughn nodded, biting back the emotional sting when the other man instinctively reached for Sydney's hand.
"Bank work. Sounds like it was a lot of travel."
"It can be," he agreed.
"How long are you in town?"
"Just for the weekend. I still live in LA," Vaughn added, as the shorter man nodded.
"Well, if you've got some time, feel free to join us on the course. We're always looking for someone else to play with."
"I'm more of a hockey kind of guy."
Peter nodded and glanced over at Sydney. "Hockey was never really my sport."
"I noticed." She struggled with a smile, the other man's gaze burning into her soul.
"Hey, Pete!" Another man approached the group, slightly shorter than Peter. "Sydney," he nodded at her.
"Hi Dave," she smiled. Turning towards Vaughn, she continued the introductions. "Michael Vaughn, this is David Winchester. David teaches at Claire's old high school," she explained. Sydney then looked back at the high school teacher and added, "I used to work with Michael in Los Angeles."
"A lifetime ago now, wasn't it?" Dave chuckled. "Well, we should let you two catch up. It was great meeting you Michael," he commented. "I'll go get us a table." He slapped his friend on the back and walked towards the back of the restaurant.
"It was nice to meet you Michael. Enjoy your visit."
"Thanks, and good luck on your golf game," Vaughn wished. Looking down at his shoes, he was only slightly reassured that the couple kissed one another on the cheek before he disappeared to the back of the restaurant. Once he was out of sight, the two met one another's eyes. Seconds passed as they silently stood, surveying one another. Breaking the trance, Sydney slid back into her seat and began to eat her lukewarm meal. Sighing heavily, Vaughn did the same.
They ate quietly for a few minutes, few words were exchanged over the other's meal. Commenting that the food was nearly as good as Trattordi Di Nardi, he was honored with a wide smile before he set his fork down. Resting heavily against the booth, Sydney looked up at him in concern.
"Are you happy?" he asked softly.
Without hesitation or thought, Sydney answered automatically, "Of course."
At her age, there was very little not to be happy about. A home she loved, a daughter she loved and adored; even pets she loved. Her position at the university had risen steadily, as her had popularity among her students. Somehow she had stumbled upon a nearly perfect life for herself, in a near perfect location. Even so, she knew she was even happier here, in this moment, in his company.
Vaughn nodded and wondered if it was wrong to be slightly disappointed with her quick answer. After twenty years it was ridiculous to think that she still needed him to be happy. You grow your own happiness with what life gives you; of the billions of people on earth who knew that, Sydney was the master. "Peter seems like a nice guy," he finally spoke.
"Yeah," she nodded, eyes set on her plate. "He really is." She glanced back at him, the tense draw of his face and the heart wrenching look in his eyes, tugged at her every instinct. Quietly, Sydney attempted to amend his pain. "If things had been different -"
"I know Syd," he cut her off. For months, those words had haunted him, knowing he'd been with Alice and was still continuing to fall more and more in love with Sydney Bristow. Hearing her unconsciously return his own words two decades later, stung more than he could have predicted.
Silently they finished their meal, both turning down the waitress' offer of dessert when she returned. As the check arrived, the pair slowly stood, Sydney glancing briefly at him as she slipped back into her jacket. Despite her protests, Vaughn picked up the check and walked to the register, Sydney keeping pace with him. As he pulled the correct amount out of his wallet, handing it to the young man, she placed a hand on his arm.
"Is that Alexandra?" she asked, her eyes having caught on to the one photo in his wallet.
"You've never seen a picture of her?" He glanced at her in surprise. When Sydney shook her head, he pulled the picture out of the plastic cover. "She looks just like Kate," he explained.
Only partially hearing him, Sydney nodded. Instead, she was looking at his daughter, given her first hint of what his former wife might look like. Although she was sitting in her photo, it was obvious Alexandra was a tall young woman. Her hair was a far lighter tone of blonde than her father's had ever been, and had big blue eyes. Knowing that he hadn't married a woman who had any resemblance to her, sent mixed emotions pumping through her system. Glancing back at Alexandra, she realized the only recognizable Vaughn feature that his daughter carried was a dimpled chin.
"She's beautiful." Sydney smiled, finally handing the picture back to its owner.
"Thanks." He smiled uncomfortably as they departed the restaurant.
Again, silence tightly tucked around them during the short car ride home. Even the music Sydney flicked on did nothing to break the air. The ride from the restaurant, while brief, was plenty long enough for the two passengers. Grabbing her keys, the two dashed into the house, unsuccessful at avoiding the pounding rain. For a few seconds, she struggled with her keys before they finally entered the house.
Standing in her dim kitchen, neither said a word as Gehrig sniffed them and returned to his blanket. Pushing damp hair behind her ear she finally broke the silence. "I'm pretty tired."
"Yeah," he softly agreed, nodding slightly.
"Do you need anything?"
Vaughn shook his head, gazing at her in the dark room. Once upon a time this had been so easy. Once upon a time there had been no awkwardness, no unsure emotions, and certainly no regrets. In another lifetime, there would have been no question that they were *both* tired after returning from a Friday night dinner, although they'd likely be up until early the next morning. That phase of his life, of their lives, now lived only in memories.
"I'm going to go up to bed then," Sydney explained.
"I'll see you in the morning," he agreed. "Sweet dreams Syd," he called to her form as she smiled, softly wished him the same, and disappeared up the stairs.
Despite her exhaustion, Sydney did very little than dance on the brink of sleep for most of the night. The images that she had seen in Vaughn's eyes in the kitchen that evening followed her to her dreams. Memories of Zamboni's and hockey games; lazy Friday nights and even lazier Saturday mornings. Thoughts of dinners with friends, when there was no need for her to introduce him, because her friends were his. Then the horrible memory of a safehouse in Hong Kong, and how Arvin Sloane had managed to wreck the one thing in her life that had always been honest and real.
Eventually, the memories, good and bad, ended and sleep crept in. For once, she was able to sleep until well after the sun woke up. Rolling over in her bed, Sydney was surprised to see that she'd managed to rope in nearly seven hours of sleep. Rising slowly from her warm comforters and fluffy pillows, she slipped her feet into her slippers. She then proceeded down the stairs cautiously, not wanting to wake her guest if he was still sleeping.
Turning the corner, she was noticeably surprised to see the sofa folded back up, the blankets and pillows neatly piled at the end. Slowly, she padded into the kitchen, coming across a sight she hadn't seen in ages. Michael Vaughn sat comfortably at her kitchen table, obviously fresh from a shower, reading the newspaper. Folding the paper down, he smiled at her as she walked in.
"Hey. I hope you don't mind, but I got your paper."
"No." She shook her head, grabbing a glass from the pantry. "That's fine. How did you sleep?" she inquired, pouring juice into her glass.
"Good," he answered. Getting comfortable in her chair, Sydney took a sip of her juice before placing it on the table. Picking up the front page of the newspaper, she watched as he picked up her glass and proceeded to drink from it as well.
"I could put on the coffee," Sydney offered.
Vaughn shook his head. "Juice is fine," he replied.
"It cleared up," she noted through the window. "I could make toast and we can eat on the deck," she suggested.
Glancing out the window, he seemed to consider her offer for a moment before he met her eyes. "You could show me the pier."
Approximately thirty-eight minutes later, her car came to a halting stop in the empty pier parking lot. Few Trinidad residents were interested in the pier on a slightly overcast morning in November. Instead, they were alone, getting out of the car as she grabbed a wax bag from the floor on the passenger's side.
"This is it," she sighed, meeting him at the front of the car. Together, the pair approached the wooden pier, walking by Seascape in the process. "They really do have the best seafood," she spoke in the direction of the restaurant.
"I didn't even know you enjoyed seafood that much."
"It's an acquired taste," she shrugged. Slowly, they began to walk along the planks, his eyes on her as she pulled a large muffin from the wax page. To Vaughn's surprise she proceeded to break it in half, pausing momentarily to hand him the top.
"This place is beautiful," he complimented, taking in the fresh air, slowly moving clouds, and rumbling waves underfoot.
"I read about this place in a brochure the university sent me before I took the job," Sydney explained. Meeting his eyes, he detected the slight color in her cheeks when she added, "I think the pier was part of the reason I took the job."
"Do you come here a lot?"
"Actually, I lived in Trinidad for two months before I first came here," she recalled. Unable to look at him, she clarified. "David took me here."
Silently he nodded, the duo reaching the end of the pier. As she ate the bottom half of the muffin, he wondered why she chose that moment to finally mention her former fiancé. The name brought back memories of a drive he took with Jack Bristow over fifteen years ago. The only words spoken on that seemingly endless drive had been whether or not to spare the man's life. Their decision was made for them when the man they encountered already reeked of liquor before noon, and whose skin was already showing the signs of far too many years of drinking. After David's brief but intense encounter with Jack Bristow and Michael Vaughn, it was obvious that he would not be bothering either Sydney or Claire ever again.
Around them, the wind blew its fury, whipping her hair off of her face. The temptation to look at her was too much for him as he turned slightly to openly gaze at her. "Why?"
Surprised, Sydney's brown eyes were round as she met his. For a moment, silence ensued as she swallowed the remainder of her muffin. She then pried her eyes away from his, studying some invisible point out in the ocean. "Leaving Los Angeles was *the* hardest thing I've ever done," she recalled, her long fingers pulling her hair off of her face as the wind suddenly died down. "Georgia came over the first day, so did Bill and Marie - they live on my left," she explained. "They came over, introduced themselves and welcomed me to the neighborhood. Bill taught at the university at the time; he's been retired for a long time though... I made friends with some of the faculty at the school, but... It was a lot like it was for me in college again," she remembered. "I really just went to work and stayed home. To be honest, I wasn't even interested in establishing a life here, I just wanted to be left alone."
Pausing for a moment, Vaughn waited for the inevitable, bracing himself as she let out a heavy sigh, still looking away from him. "I met David a few months after I moved here. It was a Halloween party thrown by a friend of a friend... He was so outgoing and friendly. I remember we'd go grocery shopping and he'd just stand in line and talk to whoever was there, like everyone in the world was his old friend or something," she chuckled at the memories as she shook her head. "He got me out there again, he helped me rebuild everything here... There were times when he could be *such* a nice guy. Then I got pregnant, and I thought... I thought, maybe things would go my way," she sighed.
"I was so busy, working and then getting ready for a baby... That's not true," she amended, more to herself than him. "I started to notice that it was more than just a drink at night. That he'd be drinking on the boat, or at lunch... At the time, it didn't seem like a lot. He was working, it was going well, and no one else seemed to think anything was wrong..." Sydney remembered. "Plus, he was *so* excited about the baby. When he was sober, he was so wonderful with children... Hell, even when he wasn't sober he could be so good with them. Will pointed it out to me at Claire's baptism. That he was drinking far too much, and that it was a regular occurrence," she sighed, and her brown eyes finally met his. "I knew that by then. I did, but it wasn't until Will said something that I realized it wasn't just my imagination."
"Syd..."
"It wasn't until I tried to get him to stop drinking, to point out that he had a problem, that he got violent," she carefully weighed her words and her tone, no longer looking at him. "At first, we'd fight and David would grab me... I'd tell him to let go and he would. He really would. Then he'd cry and apologize, say that he hadn't meant to hurt me, that his temper got out of hand... I would usually kick him out, then he'd come back in ten days or a few weeks and he'd be sober. He'd stay that way for a week or so, once it even lasted a whole month, but it would always start again..."
As much as Vaughn wanted to listen, as desperately as he wanted to offer her a shoulder, he couldn't help but ask the question that had haunted him. "Why didn't you fight back?"
"The last night... I still think he broke my wrist." She sighed and glanced down at her wrist. "My face was all bruised up... Up until that night, it had never been anything other than trying to hold me during an argument. He'd never really been violent before that night..." She paused for a moment. "That night I ensured that Claire would be the only child he'd ever have," she confessed with a smirk.
Unable to stop himself, he chuckled and shook his head. After a few moments of laughing with her, Vaughn fell back into a more serious mind frame. "I still don't understand why you put up with it," he commented.
"Until I moved to Trinidad, I'd never been alone before," Sydney calmly pointed out. "First there were nannies, then boarding school, then I roomed with Francie in college, then Danny and I were living together, and eventually I lived again with Francie," she pointed out. "I wasn't *scared* of being alone, I just didn't like it. I liked having someone there when I got home, someone to talk to, someone to just share my day with... Then we had Claire," she sighed. "I wanted to give my daughter more than I ever had. I wanted to give her a family, and a good childhood. I wanted her to look back on growing up and not feel as if I'd forced her into anything, or alienated myself from her."
"What happened?" he prompted.
"I realized that I could give Claire more than I had. That I could be a good, strong, loving and devoted mother even if I was single. That by giving her that, I was giving her more than I had. I realized then that I was teaching her that it was okay, or even normal to accept being treated so poorly; that it was all right to let someone hurt you... I hated myself for that. I wouldn't do that. I will let Claire become whatever person she wants to be, but I refuse to let her become that woman."
"I don't think she will," Vaughn commented.
"Neither do I," Sydney grinned. "In the end, I have given her more than I had. I'm lucky, I really am. She was always such a good baby, and I think she's given me more than I could ever give her."
"Did you love him?"
Surprised by the question, Sydney looked at him for a moment before she looked away again. "I think I wanted to. I confused that with actually loving him. He helped me create this life here; he helped me make my daughter... I'll always be grateful to him for that. David is one half of the person Claire is, at least genetically. I love my daughter. I don't think we would be as close as we are if it wasn't for him. Even if he'd cleaned up and stayed around, it would have just ended disastrously anyway," she sighed. "She teases me that I have the worse relationship taste in the world." Sydney let a silly smile spread across her face. "Sometimes I think she's right."
"Hey!" he indignantly protested.
"Sorry," she laughed and looked at him. "Present company excluded."
Silently, he smiled and leaned against the rail. Softly Vaughn realized, "It's okay. Claire probably doesn't know about me anyway."
"No..." Her smile vanished. "She doesn't," she conceded. For a while they stood there, side by side, their arms nearly brushing as they watched the morning waves continue to silently roll in. Sydney watched the familiar sights of the sea birds and the otters going about their morning routine, safe and at peace in the area, as he silently studied her. Abruptly, she ended their tranquil silence and directly met his eyes. "What did you and my father do to him?"
"Excuse me?" he stood up straight, an eyebrow instinctively rising.
"Weiss told me," she stopped him. "You and my father left LA the day before David left, and didn't return until the day after. When I left home that morning, he was not cooperating about leaving or child custody or anything. I return home, everything is gone, and I never hear from him again."
"Maybe he came to his senses," Vaughn shrugged the suggestion. Not looking at her, he leaned his frame against the rail, looking back out at the water.
"Vaughn."
Briefly, he glanced back at her and then back at the water. "Your neighbor, Georgia, she heard the arguing. Saw that you were hurt. She called Will; Will called your father. I found out where Jack was going and what happened and I offered to help."
"Why?"
"Why?" He looked at her in surprise. "Sydney, someone was hurting you. I wasn't just going to sit back and let that happen, no more than Jack was."
"I'd been gone for almost three years."
"So? Is that supposed to make a difference? Damn it Sydney, I wasn't going to do nothing. What? Do you think 'out of sight' means 'out of mind' or some bullshit like that?" he snapped. Shaking his head, he looked away from her again and sighed. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself, knowing I hadn't done anything when I could have stopped it."
"Did you kill him?" she whispered.
Chuckling, Vaughn shook is head. "No. Although we considered it," he confessed. "We escorted him off of the property, made sure he had everything he could possibly need. We had a few... words with him, and put him on a plane to Nebraska."
"Nebraska? What's there?"
"Nothing," he smirked. "That was the point."
"He didn't even try to get joint custody."
Solemnly he nodded. "I know."
"Thank you," Sydney said softly, studying her hands.
"You could have done it yourself Sydney."
"I didn't want to hurt him... Not physically. For so long, when we'd fight, he'd grab me and I'd have the instinct to hurt him... I knew what to do, how to stop him; I didn't want to hurt him. David wasn't some nameless man in my way when I was trying to complete a mission, or who was purposely out to hurt me. I thought I could do it," she sighed. "I thought about it. I'd lay awake at night, towards the end, and I'd think about what I could do. I didn't want to though. I knew that deep down he wasn't *trying* to hurt me, that he was sick, that he had a problem. It wasn't like it was when I was doing it for a living, when I never had to see the people or the repercussions... Even with... Francie's clone," she swallowed back the tears. "I knew then that it *wasn't* Francie. That there was no way it could be Francie. It looked like her, but it wasn't, and even that was hard... And it wasn't just me, it was Claire. I just wanted to give her what I didn't have."
"You did Syd."
"I know," she sighed and nodded. "And I'm always going to have regrets. Things I wish I'd done differently or been able to give her. I love her, and I know she loves me. She'll actually still say it, which I think makes me luckier than most mothers of teenagers," she chuckled.
"I think you're right," Vaughn agreed.
"I'm sorry," Sydney looked at him apologetically. "I don't mean to -"
"It's fine Syd," he stopped her. He looked out at the water, the wind running through his hair. "I'm Alex's father; our relationship is different than what you have with Claire. The circumstances are different, the people are different... I love my daughter. I know she loves me, and she knows I'm there if she needs me," he sighed and looked at her. "All I can do is hope she asks."
After a moment of contemplation, her arm brushed against his as she reached for his hand. For the first time in far too long, their fingers intertwined as she softly sighed. "I'm sure she does Vaughn."
Suddenly, he chuckled and looked over at her, his lips twitching adorably. "You're never going to call me Michael, are you?"
"Vaughn." Her eyes twinkled, her own mouth curving into a smile. At her side, her companion shook his head and looked back at the water. Not that Michael Vaughn minded. When it came down to it, he firmly believed he preferred the Vaughn Sydney Bristow knew, to the Michael that the rest of the world acknowledged.
"I think it's going to rain," he sighed, as the clouds grew darker, the wind once again picking up after a brief reprieve.
"I don't think it's rained two weeks in a row in years. Only you would pick the first two rainy weekends in years to come visit," she teased as he grinned.
"C'mon Syd," he pulled away from the wooden rail, taking her hand with him. Silently, she shook her head, silently walking back to the car, her hand tucked comfortably in his.
The morning wasn't a rushed one. Instead, Vaughn sat in the kitchen, the two debating sports and current politics as she began making preparations for Thanksgiving. They talked about movies and music, television shows and sports. Neither brought up their children or past significant others. Instead, for a few short hours they were still the Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn of a seemingly other world; two people with nothing else to do on a Saturday but debate who was the best goalie in the NHL or which Frank Sinatra song was the most memorable.
"Thank god hockey is indoors," Vaughn sighed, watching the rain pour furiously outside the French doors of her living room. Despite the rain, she had opened one of the doors, the fresh air ventilating the house.
Sydney looked up from her spot on the double glider. For nearly an hour, she'd sat there, curled up with her socked feet comfortably tucked under her denim-covered legs. At first, she'd been busy correcting papers and working on her upcoming classes. By then, however, she was comfortably reading a book for pleasure. When her eyes rose from her book, she didn't even try to hide the smile at what she uncovered. Vaughn lay stretched comfortably on the longer sofa, one elbow tucked under a throw pillow that he used to prop up his head, while he anxiously waited for the Kings' first afternoon game of the season.
"You would sit out in the rain and not even think twice," she challenged.
"Probably," he conceded with a half smile. "When I was a kid I used to play in the snow."
"That doesn't surprise me," she murmured, looking back at her book.
"Blizzards Syd. Hail."
Glancing quickly over the top of her book she inquired, "Were you trying to worry your mother?"
"I was too busy playing to worry about that," he corrected. "I would go inside, sometimes."
"And then you'd play pool and hustle the unassuming locals," she softly recalled from behind the pages of her book.
"I never said anything about hustling," Vaughn playfully protested.
As she rolled her eyes Sydney explained, "Hustling was implied."
"Well, a college kid's got to make a living," he pointed out.
After she quickly marked her page, Sydney looked up at him and teased, "There are easier ways of making a living."
"I had fun," he finished, looking back at the television. "Can you see okay from there Syd?" he asked, watching the opening of the game. From her angle Vaughn couldn't help but wonder if the light bounced too brightly off of the television, making the screen difficult to see.
"I'm fine," she promised.
"Is it always like this here?" he murmured. Although his eyes never left the television screen, Vaughn sensed her questioning look. "Always this..." He hesitated. The last thing he wanted to say was easy; he knew that no life was easy. Instead, he quickly added a more appropriate word. "Quiet."
"You're a long, long way from Los Angeles, Agent Vaughn," Sydney teased as his lips moved into a half smile. Sincerely she pressed on, "I know it's not as fast-paced or exciting as LA, but -"
"I like it," he stopped, removing his eyes from the television, looking at her just long enough to drive home his point.
"The game's starting," she pointed out with a smile, as his eyes finally returned to the TV.
The game ended nearly an hour after the sun set, as Jeopardy! came on and just as the evening news came to a close. Outside the rain continued to pour, the wind rattling through the screen doors of the house. Tucked safely inside Sydney Bristow's home, the two sat down in the kitchen to a simple dinner of soup and sandwiches. Neither had been especially hungry as dinnertime rolled around, and she had suggested one of Claire's favorite combinations.
"You're leaving tomorrow?" Sydney posed the question as the meal began, studying her plate instead of his eyes.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Back to work Monday morning," he explained as she nodded. "I'll probably leave in the morning."
"Will you -"
"I'm not going to leave without saying goodbye Syd," he promised her.
"You'll have to come back again. We can go to Seascape."
"I will," he met her eyes and vowed. "I think Zelda likes me," Vaughn noted as the black cat leapt directly into his lap, and comfortably settled there.
"She's a big flirt," Sydney grinned. "You should probably leave early tomorrow too," she sadly realized. "The roads will be messy."
"I'll be careful," he insisted. "You must be excited," he commented as her face twisted in confusion. "Claire coming home; having Peter over for Thanksgiving. I know how important it used to be to you," Vaughn explained. All he could do was wonder why he was doing this to himself. Just like he still wondered why he asked about Noah all those years ago; asking how the mission with him had gone as the knowledge that she'd slept with him sunk deep into his gut. The only consolation he now had was his near certainty that she had yet to sleep with Peter.
"I'm excited about Claire coming home," she smiled. "Peter will probably drop by," she softly confirmed. "Everyone drops in and out though," her voice returned to its normal tone as she explained. "Everyone drops in here on Thanksgiving. My friends from work, Georgia and the kids... Everyone." She shrugged. "I usually make enough to feed the entire town for a week."
Vaughn smiled, his mind conjuring up the image of Sydney and Claire Bristow working in sync in the kitchen, preparing a master Thanksgiving feast. The bitter taste of envy reappeared in his mouth as he considered that it would be not him, but Peter, in his seat come Thursday; that the shorter high school teacher would be the one partaking in the day. The taste turned metallic as his mind added in that Peter had met Claire Bristow, knew of the type of day-to-day life that Sydney had created for herself, while he was still an outsider. When he thought of it that way, he was left to wonder why he hadn't violently greeted the man the other day.
"Peter's mother died in April," Sydney added. "He lived with her. He'd been taking care of her... So he doesn't really have anywhere else to go." Across from her, she was only faintly relieved to see him nod. Why his approval carried such weight, was a question she didn't have the emotional energy to answer. Not yet at least.
"That's nice of you Syd." His voice still cracked, despite the sincerity that his statement carried.
"We've been friends for a few years," she struggled to explain. "Claire adores him... He's a really nice guy. I think he really liked you too."
Vaughn choked on a bitter smile at her words. "C'mon." He put his wrinkled paper napkin on the table and slowly stood.
"Where are you going?" she asked, instantly concerned that she had pushed him away.
With a quick check out the window, he was glad to see the skies had died down, although the newspapers predicted showers again later that night. "Let's go for a ride." He walked over to her, expectantly holding his hand out.
"What? Vaughn -"
"It stopped raining and the top of my car goes down. When was the last time you were in a convertible?" he challenged. "Let's go." He took her hand, gently tugging Sydney to her feet. Grabbing their keys off the counter in one swoop of his hand, he led her out the door.
"Where are we going?" she inquired as he opened the passenger's door of his car for her.
"I'm going to look around the area," he explained, her confusion only growing as he got in on his side. "Trust me, Syd," he pointed out as he twisted the keys in the ignition. Granting him a deliciously large smile, she shook her head and settled back against the seat as he began to drive.
The stars slowly twinkled overhead as he drove for nearly two hours. At first she was an alert co-pilot, directing him by places and things in Trinidad and the surrounding towns that meant the most to her. Sydney even managed to direct him by the building she taught the majority of her glasses in. Eventually, the music and the warm wind blowing around her lulled her into a comfortable sleep. In the driver's seat, turning down Springsteen just a bit so she wouldn't awake, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. With her head rolled onto her shoulder, her eyes closed, and her lips opened just slightly, Vaughn gently reached for her hand.
Holding her slightly smaller hand in his, he drove back to the house, wondering how he would manage to tell her that after twenty years of searching, he'd finally discovered where he belonged.