Title: It Goes On
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." - Robert Frost Twenty years post "The Telling"; Surviving the worse case scenario.
Authors Note: Special thank you to Dae. Thank you again for being so wonderful. Also, now thanks to you I FINALLY know what a Mary Sue is! (it was like asking my classmates where the college cafeteria was today - I hate asking things when everyone else seems to just know like it's common sense!) Also, I went back and acted on some of your suggestions, so I hope it meets your expectations!
Dedication: To my Mom. Mind you, she'll never read this, but eighteen years ago she was preparing to give birth to yours truly, so the least she deserves is a dedication.
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The first Sunday back in Stanford, Claire found herself sitting in the back pew of the Memorial Church on campus, shortly after four in the evening. In just a little while the weekly Catholic mass would begin, and for some reason she had found herself there although she'd never gone before. Somewhere deep in her subconscious she heard her Mother warning her not to dare change herself for any boy, although she swore that was not her intention. Instead she simply hoped to accidentally-on-purpose run into Bryce. The Cardinals had been on a brief road trip since she returned from Christmas break, and she was anticipating the earliest possible moment to see him again
As the anxiety of her non-existent plan bubbled in her stomach, a familiar figure tossed her a warm smile as he slid into the pew next to her. Without a word she watched him collapse to his knees in silent prayer as Claire drew her eyes away from him. Being away from him for Christmas break had not been torture, but it wasn't until Bryce sat next to her once again that she realized just how much she'd missed him. One thing she admired about him was his constant sense of calm, and his ability to allow his calm to spill over into her blood. Without having even kissed him, she was relatively sure she was falling in love with him, although she heard her grandfather's subtle warning of just how young she was for such serious notions.\par
\tab For an hour not a word was passed as they sat side by side in the pew. Following his cue, she trailed behind him to Eucharist, barely remembering the sacrament that she had first celebrated over a decade ago. Politely he waited for her to return to the pew, allowing her to return to her original seat that was theirs alone. At the end of the mass he stumbled for her hand on their way out the door. The skin of her cheeks burnt as she sent him a smile, allowing him to lead her to a nearby bench in a corner of the campus that was all but deserted on a Sunday evening.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly. When her head raised, her eyes shone confusion as he looked at her skeptically. "Something's bothering you. What's up?"
"My mom . . ." Claire sighed, unable to look at him as she studied a few students walking along in the distance, so wrapped up in conversation that they failed to notice her attention. "When we were in Los Angeles, she disappeared over night. I came back from hanging out with Laura and she was just . . . Gone. Didn't get in until nearly seven thirty the next morning."
"Did you call the police?"
Her head shook as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture that was endearingly familiar to her companion. "My Uncle Will said not to yet, that she could handle herself . . . I know my mom thinks I'm stupid, that I don't know what's going on, but I know she spent the night with that man . . ."
"What man?"
"An old boyfriend," she dismissively shook her head. "Michael . . .Vaughn, I think," Claire shrugged. "I just . . . I hate the fact that she doesn't think I figured it out, that she wouldn't just tell me. She made up some bullshit story about falling asleep on a friend's sofa. I'm not five anymore," she looked at him. "I don't need to be protected."
Bryce smiled sweetly, "she's your mom. She's always going to protect you."
"Plus . . . Damn, did it have to be the day before Christmas Eve? It's not like we have all that much time to spend together anymore . . . It's not like we ever did," she added softly. "Mom has always tried," she emphasized as he silently nodded. "It was hard though. She had her classes, and that's a lot of work . . . Plus for a long time she was in school. Sometimes I'd just be happy to sit there while she did some work, that way I could at least be around her . . . There were times when I wanted to be alone, but sometimes I just wanted her to be around and she had to work or I had school or something . . . I get it. I do, I know how hard she's worked but . . . Sorry," she chuckled and shook her head. Claire glanced at him, meeting his green eyes. "I must sound pretty absurd."
"Nah," he promised. "My dad travels a lot, to recruit and stuff, but my mom was always around. I've always had my sisters around to bother me, so I always had to share my parents," he teased.
"I'm just not used to it," she conceded, looking down at her new sneakers. A gift from her grandmother, a woman who had insisted that a young girl who did as well as a goalie in her first season at Stanford as she did deserved the best footwear imaginable. Then her mother had piped in that it was just because her grandmother had a shoe fetish she wished to share with her granddaughter. Claire suspected the truth laid somewhere in between. Sighing, her brown eyes raised, a new shade of sadness, "I just thought I was always enough for her."
"Hey," he dropped her hand, his arm around her to pull her close. "You are *so* enough for her, but your growing up. I mean you just left her all alone in that big house. She had to have a hobby."
"Why couldn't she learn to knit?" Claire sighed, resting her head into the niche of his shoulder.
Under her hear she heard his heart beating steadily and heard his warm body rumble. "Because," he answered once his laughter had subsided, "no one but my grandmother knits."
Briefly her nose wrinkled, not imagining the grandmother she knew as the knitting type. Mindful of the lie she had maintained her entire life, she answered, "my grandmother used to sew my mom's Halloween costumes."
Bryce lowered his head slightly, managing for his green eyes to lock with hers, "does this mean I don't get to meet your mother?"
"No," she sighed and sat up fully. Leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, he traced his hand soothingly up and down her back, relieved to see the anger slowly draining from her tense frame. "Two week from yesterday, Mom's coming. She's going to get tickets. My Uncle Will or my grandfather might come too."\par
\tab "Should I be scared?" he teased.
"Maybe," she chuckled, looking away. "They're good guys. My Uncle Will is the greatest guy I've ever known, seriously," Claire explained. Quickly she turned towards him in curiosity, "how was Arizona?"
"We went 2-0 against Arizona State and Arizona, although Tucson sucked. Some cartoonist died, she was a big celebrity there, and it was all over the news. I think every cartoon fan in the United States was in Tucson and our hotel."
"Well, for the record I'm not at all surprised you won," she smiled.
"So," Bryce grew sober as her eyes remained on his profile. "Have you even met this guy?"
"No, thank god," she sighed. "I don't want to. Frankly, I don't want to think about it. I mean, my mom's totally entitled to a life, to her friends and her hobbies, but I don't want to think about anything else."
"Didn't you like the guy she was dating?"
"Peter," she grinned. "Yeah," Claire conceded, "but that was different. I knew him before she did. He was my Math teacher sophomore year . . . I even had a bit of a crush on him," she admitted, her cheeks burning. "Next to my uncle and my grandfather and my Uncle Rick, I think Peter is one of the best guys I've ever met."
"Hey," he playfully nudged her. "What about me?"
"Your obviously number one," she teased.
"C'mon knucklehead," he slowly stood, grabbing her hand to prompt her to do the same. "Let's go get a bite to eat. My treat."
"Good, I'm starving," Claire agreed, her hand tucked securely in his as they walked.
The spring semester dawned at Humboldt State on a mild day in January. Sydney hadn't seen Vaughn since he arrived on her doorstep Monday afternoon. After that he'd been busy unpacking his old life and settling into the new one. Her life had gone on quite successfully without him, and she easily stayed busy. There were phone calls to Claire, meeting with new students and preparing course material. Academia always kept her busy, kept her mind running too hard to remember that her daughter was hundreds of miles away or that she was taking a massive risk by allowing herself to once again jump head first into a relationship with Vaughn. Not for the first time was she grateful for the hectic nature of her occupation.
Five days passed before she saw him again. Late Friday evening found her on Humboldt's all-weather track, the reassuring pound of her feet hitting the track bouncing rhythmically to her ears. An hour earlier she'd been in her house, finishing her evening conversation with Claire. The slightly burnt microwave dinner that she had prepared herself quickly lost it's appeal, and after less than three bites had found its way to the floor, an unexpected treat for an eager Gehrig. After that it was just a quick change into her running clothes, grabbing her duffel and keys before heading out the door. Pulling the car out of the driveway, she waved at Peter as he pulled his car into Georgia's half of the driveway, prompt to pick her up for their first date.
Thinking of Peter and Georgia, out on what was sure to be a slightly awkward first date, she thought back to Rick and Georgia. Once upon a time she had envied them greatly, although she wished no harm upon them. They were married for thirty years, happily, and she had rarely seen them fight. Rick's death had been unexpected and difficult on all of them, but Georgia had survived, just as her late husband would have wanted her to. The correlation between Rick and Georgia and her life twenty years earlier was obvious, although it wasn't until she was alone at night, either correcting papers or reading, that she allowed herself to think it. In the end they all knew Rick wouldn't be coming back, as painful as the reality was, and she knew that he'd want his best friend and his wife to be happy.
Just as she wanted for Claire, and her parents, and Vaughn, even if Vaughn's happiness meant twenty years without her around. That was the trouble with loving someone. You could love them, but you couldn't control them, even if what made them happy left you absolutely miserable. The idea of Claire going to Humboldt was one she had dreamed of for ages, imagined her daughter even picking up an English major just as her mother and grandmother had, of being an active participant in her daughter's college years. Unfortunately her dream was not her daughter's dream, and she had to let her go, even if it meant her little girl was hundreds of miles away embarking on what was the most fantastic journey of her young life.
"Hey."
Sydney's feet stopped their frantic pace. Pausing for a moment to regain her breath, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at the sight. Vaughn slowly strolled over, looking as attractive as she could remember in his jeans and t-shirt. "It's Friday Syd, shouldn't you be home relaxing?"
"I am relaxing," she grinned, softly thanking him for the towel he had grabbed off of her duffel. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd look here before I ended up on your back stoop again," he smiled at her.
"How was your first week?"
"Well . . Considering Weiss warned me of every trick he played on his professors in college, I was well prepared," Vaughn answered, gracing her with a half smile.
"Good," she nodded. "What are you doing next Saturday?"
"I don't know, what am I doing next Saturday?" he returned the question. Sydney Bristow hadn't changed that much, and in his experience when she asked a question, she already had a plan.
"Stanford's playing USC next Saturday, in the afternoon, at Stanford. I promised Claire . . . Bryce O'Neil, he's on the basketball team, they're good friends. I promised her I'd go to a game. I'll probably leave Friday after classes . . . I thought you might like to come. I'm supposed to meet Bryce. You could meet Claire."
"Do you want me to meet Claire?" he carefully inquired.
Sydney studied her soiled sneakers for a moment, wiping the sweat off of her face with the towel. Then she lifted her head, nodding slowly, "yeah," she replied as the smile slowly spread across her face. "I really would."
"Sure," he smiled and nodded.
"It won't be a problem . . . With Alex or anything?"
"No," he shook his head. "No problem at all."
"How is she doing?" she questioned as they began to slowly walk towards her half open duffel.
"Some days, when I talk to her, I think she's doing well. Starting to get back to where she was . . . Then other days . . . I just don't know," he sighed and shook his head. "The worst part is I can't make it better. I can't protect her from the bully or buy her a fudgesicle and make her smile."
"Your her dad, she knows you're there for whatever she needs."
"I just . . ." he sighed and shook his head. "I know Matt will take care of her. He's a good man Syd, and I know he loves Alex like she was his own . . . I still worry about her."
"It's funny," she chuckled slightly, his eyes on her as Sydney continued. "When I was pregnant, I was always talking about how I was having a baby. How *I* was having a baby . . . Which really," she considered with a slight shake of her head. Finally her eyes met his as she continued. "It's a lie. When it comes down to it, we really don't have our children - they have us. Whether they realize it or not."
"They don't," he sighed. "And they probably won't until they have their own children."
Sydney laughed as he opened the door for her, allowing her to breeze by him on their way out. "I don't want to think about being a grandmother."
"When it happens, no matter when it happens, it'll be too soon."
"Right now it's enough for me that she's in college," Sydney insisted. "She's never been too serious about boys, not until recently . . . Hopefully I'll have a long time before I worry about that."
Vaughn smiled, the uninvited image of her slightly aged but no less beautiful, sitting along side him on her back stoop as grandchildren ran around the massive yard arrived in his head. The picture was, at best, a long time in the future. At worst it would be forever an unfulfilled dream. "Vaughn?" Sydney called, smiling in slight confusion as he emerged from his thoughts. "Are you hungry?"
"I'd offer to cook, but I can barely walk around my apartment."\line\tab Her laughter only left his smile growing wider. "The faculty apartments leave something to be desired."
"Yeah, like space to breathe," he muttered, grinning in her direction.
"Have you started looking for another place?"
"Not yet," Vaughn explained.
"You might want to start. It took me three months to find something and then for everything with the mortgage to go through."
"If it wasn't for Alex, I probably wouldn't bother," he sighed. "I don't know where I'm going to put her when she comes to visit."
"When is she coming?" Sydney looked at him with sincere interest in her eyes.
"I don't know yet," he conceded. Silently they agreed to take his car, his instincts taking over as he held the passenger's door open for her before he got in. "She's talked about coming to Humboldt, but I don't know if she was serious or just upset. Plus Eric and Meg said that she could stay with them if she wanted to go to school in L.A."
"Well, she doesn't have to come here to look at the school. She could just come here to spend some time with you. Maybe during spring break, when you're free. You could even show her around the campus, or I could arrange for a student tour guide."
Vaughn caved in to the urge to take her hand as he drove through the sleepy campus, awed at her willingness to help him and his daughter. Considering this was a woman who was willing to risk her life on countless occasions to keep a country of strangers safe, he scolded himself for being so ridiculous. There was nothing in life Sydney Bristow valued more than her loved ones, and after far too long he was back in that esteemed circle.
"I still don't know where I'm going to put her," he chuckled.
"She could stay with me," Sydney easily offered. At the surprised expression in her eye, she clarified. "Only if she's comfortable. I have the pull out sofa, and there's plenty of room. There are two rooms in the basement that are finished, but they're empty. If she wanted to she could just get a sleeping bag and stay down there - if she really didn't want to see much of me."
"What about Claire?"
"She's away at school," she shrugged, a sadness briefly in her eyes. "Either way, I'm sure she wouldn't mind," she dismissed. "They might get along," Sydney suggested.
"With each other or with us?"
Her brown eyes easily rolled, "with each other. Although it would be nice if they got along with us too."
Somberly Vaughn finally broke their easy laughter, "I wouldn't expect too much from Alex, Syd. At least not now. This isn't a very easy time for her."
"I don't expect anything from her Vaughn," she promised. "I understand this is a tough time for her. If she wants to talk, that'd be great, but if she just wants a place to stay and for me to leave her alone, I can do that too."
In his seat, pulling on to her street, he nodded. None of this would come easy. The road ahead for them was only bumpier, and he couldn't help of thinking all the trouble he could have spared them if he had just been more patient, less quick to accept the CIA's belief that she was dead. Still, there was the chance, the slightest of possibilities, that all of the heartache, the detours and struggles they had endured had all been necessary to bring them to that very point where they were together.
Gehrig was quickly out the door once his mistress entered, doing his business and running around his yard. Zelda quickly jumped onto Vaughn's lap, purring contently as Sydney laughed at the cat's behavior. Sydney's implied offer of making dinner was quickly discarded with the notion of ordering Chinese. Within an hour they sat in her living room, watching a basketball game and eating out of Chinese food cartons with plastic forks that she had found in her drawer.
"You don't have to be here," she sighed against his neck hours later. The alarm clock on her side table had just turned to quarter after eleven as his warm hand rested on the familiar flesh of her hip. Lifting her eyes from the light dusting of hair on his chest, she was instantly looking into his baffled green eyes. "I understand Vaughn . . . This isn't an easy time for you. If spending the night makes it more difficult . . . I would never ask you to do that."
His fingers ran gently through her hair before he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. "Syd," he whispered softly, brushing his lips against her temple before setting his mouth near to her ear. So close that his warm breath tickled the nearby skin of her neck. "Syd . . . I'm sad," Vaughn confessed, feeling her fingers gently running through his own crisp locks of hair. "I'm sad for Matt and my heart is breaking for Alex," he admitted before he pulled back. Once again their eyes locked, hers eager for him to continue. "Losing Kate isn't like losing you," he gently tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear as he continued. "It wouldn't have been even if we were still married. I'm not ashamed of it either - I loved her, and I always will, but she's not you," he finished, leaning down to capture her lips. "This is exactly where I want to be," he promised, his vow muffled against the skin of her shoulder.
"I'll get a room in Stanford for us," she promised.
When he pulled back, the smile on his face was eager mixed with an understandable caution. Michael Vaughn could only hope that Claire Bristow hadn't inherited her mother's ability to kick his ass. "You got the tickets?"
"Yes, I did," she grinned. "I just have to call Claire tomorrow and tell her."
Vaughn nodded, nestling his head into the crook of her shoulder. Holding Sydney tightly to him, sharing in a warmth that for so long he was afraid he'd never find again, he only hoped Claire Bristow would be as excited about his presence as her mother was.
Whenever the phone rang in their dorm on a Saturday afternoon, Laura never even bothered to answer it. Since their first full week in Stanford, it was always Claire's mother. In some ways she envied her roommate's constant phone calls to and from her mother, along with various uncles and her grandfather. Her parents called twice a week, a few minutes on the phone and money sent. Not that she didn't understand. Her parents had a whole houseful of kids to raise, while all Claire's family had was her. Then there were days when she was glad to be free, not to have to worry about being around to hear from them. Either way, the phone calls kept coming, and for the most part Claire did nothing to discourage it.
That afternoon in January was no different. Sitting on her bed when the phone rang, Laura looked over to see her roommate glance to the phone in surprise. Calmly, Claire marked her page before reaching over to pick up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey sweetie."
"Hi Mom!" she greeted, a smile appearing on her face. "What's up?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Sydney laughed.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong Tinkerbelle, why do you ask?"
The knife continued to twist in Claire's gut, "you sound like something's bothering you. You sound upset or nervous or something. Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine," she soothed in a voice so sincere her daughter had no choice but to believe her. It was the same voice she had used to tell tales about Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny for well over a decade. "How are you?"
"Fine. Just doing some reading."
"Good."
Eager to get to the important part of the conversation, she asked, "so, did you get the tickets to the game?"
"Yes," she slowly answered. "I got three tickets."
"Oh," she replied. The surprise was obvious in her hesitation before she hopefully continued. "Is Uncle Will coming?"
Back home, sitting at her kitchen table with Gehrig patiently at her feet, Sydney swallowed her fears. "No," she finally replied. "Vaughn is."
"Damnit Mom! I told you I didn't want to meet him!"
"You never said that."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I thought it would be nice. I thought, since I was meeting Bryce -"
"Exactly!" Claire cut her off. "This was supposed to be about you meeting Bryce! Why are you doing this?"
"I want you two to meet. I thought we could all meet at once -"
"Damnit, I'm not ready! Why are you pushing this?"
"This is important to me Claire."
"Stop this Mom! I don't want to meet him!"
"Vaughn is coming with me. I don't expect you to like him, but I do expect you to be pleasant and polite. Who knows, you might even end up liking him."
The only sound to greet Sydney was the dial tone.
Laura raised her eyes from her book in surprise as her friend angrily smashed the phone down onto the hook. "What's wrong?"
"Bad connection," Claire explained, not meeting her friends eyes. Abruptly she stood off the bed and grabbed her keys.
"Where are you going? It's pouring out."
"I'm going for a run," she quickly informed her. "I'll be back later. If my Mom calls, just tell her I'm out," she added before grabbing a sweatshirt and disappearing out of their dorm room.
Staring at the phone, it was only a few seconds later that it rung. With no other choice, she picked it up trepidaciously. "Hello?"
"Hi, Laura. This is Sydney, Claire's mom. Is she around?"
"I'm sorry Sydney, Claire just left," she explained, hoping the other woman didn't hear her grimace as she recalled the slam that had accompanied Claire's exit.
"Oh," she replied. In a single syllable, Laura was amazed at the worry, disappointment and concern one mother could convey. Subconsciously she suspected it was a trait all adults acquired with parenthood. The sound even left her feeling guilty, and she wasn't even the woman's daughter. "Please let her know I called, will you?"
"Of course."
Sounding more upbeat, Sydney continued, "maybe I'll get to see you next weekend. I'm coming down for the basketball game. I was hoping to meet Bryce. Maybe all of us could go out to dinner or something."\par
\tab "That sounds nice," Laura agreed. She had no problems with Sydney Bristow. In fact she thought that, despite her boring occupation, she was one of the more interesting and likable parents she had ever encountered.
"Okay. I guess I'll talk to you later. Take care."
"Thanks Sydney, you too," she replied and set the phone down. Sighing, she shook her head, for the first time more than happy that she wasn't a part of whatever drama was about to unfold.
The truth was it wouldn't take a lot for Bryce O'Neal to confess that he was likely falling in love with the Bristow girl. That's what his friends called her, the Bristow girl, or the Bristow goalie. Things had started simply enough, in the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas break when the campus had been monsooned with an uncharacteristic rain. She had stood there, soaking wet and beautiful. He'd done what his parents and grandparents had always taught him, moved over his duffel bag and freed the chair next to him. It was only when she was finally sitting next to him, her brown eyes twinkling, that he hoped the stench of his recent basketball practice didn't linger too heavily.
To say he had spent every free moment with her since than would be nothing short of the truth. At twenty-one years old, he had never bothered to take the time to really get to know a girl and certainly had never been so quickly passionate about one. There had been a few short term girlfriends, but no one that sparked his legitimate interest or who were even seriously interested in him. So many things had taken precedent over girls. His family, his studies, his sports and the church he was raised in all came first. In between tennis, baseball, basketball and keeping himself on the honor roll, that hadn't meant time for much else in high school. When he did have free time, he wasn't interested in many of his friend's activities. Instead he was happy to sit at home and watch movies, or practice jump shots in his driveway with his father.
College hadn't been much different. With the exception of being thousands of miles from home, he was fine. Basketball and schoolwork came before any other priority except his weekly obligation to the church. He'd been recognized during his sophomore year as Scholar Athlete of the basketball division of the Pac-10, and had the highest GPA on his team. Stir in the fact that he was the highest scorer on the team and he roomed with the captain of the golf team, he was doing remarkably well for himself.
Then there was Claire. She was beautiful, and so tiny compared to where he stood at a few inches over six feet. Her knowledge of sports envied his, and he'd been raised by a former NBA player and a woman who had played on two Olympic softball teams. As a finance major, many of his classes were similar to hers as an economics major, leaving even more topics of discussion. Things had quickly escalated from seemingly accidental meetings to how it was now routine for them to eat breakfast together. She could hold her own with every guy on the basketball team, she took no trash from them and while they playfully called her by her last name, it was obvious they respected and even liked her.
Although they hadn't known her very long, he was confident he knew so many little things about her. Things that he adored and she probably didn't even realize she did. The way she pushed her hair behind her ear when she talked. The way she unconsciously twisted her mouth up in the corner when she was deep in thought. Every morning she had a bagel for breakfast. Always with cream cheese, unless it was an everything bagel and then she would only use butter. The way she spoke about her family, it was obvious she was very close to her uncles and aunts and her grandfather. More than that, it was obvious at the end of the day that she adored her mother.
That was why, as he sat across from her on a Monday less that a week before he was scheduled to meet the woman he knew was Claire's best friend in the universe, he wondered what had her sullen and discontent. Very little got her down - that was part of the reason he liked her so much. Nothing certainly kept her down for long either, and everything made her laugh. Unlike so many other girls and woman he'd met is life, his own sisters included, she wasn't hard to please or amuse. That morning he'd tried everything, from surprising her with a chocolate chip muffin to brazenly telling her how pretty he thought she looked, even early on a Monday morning in an aged Kings jersey and what were obviously pajama bottoms.
"If you don't tell me, I can't fix it."
Claire sighed against her juice container and put it back down on the rackety (rickety?) dining hall table. "You can't fix it anyway," she sighed, tearing one half of her bagel in two, just as she did every morning.
"Well, I can at least try."
Another sigh and another wave of her hair pushed back behind her ears. "My Mother's bringing him."
"Him who?"
"Mr. Vaughn. Michael, whatever his name is," she pushed her food away from her. "I don't know why she's bringing him. I told her I didn't want her too, that I didn't want to meet him . . . Maybe I'm being selfish or self absorbed or childish or whatever," she groaned. "It's just . . . This trip was supposed to be about her meeting you. That's all. Just the two of us going to a basketball game, the three of us going out and then maybe Mom and I hanging out for awhile. Now it's all ruined."
Even during her less than stellar moments, he couldn't help but be nuts about her. As a result he did his best to hide his smile and nodded. "Whatever it is she's doing, I doubt it's without your best interest at heart. Who knows, maybe you'll really like this guy."
"I don't get what's so special about this guy anyway. Why she insists that I meet him. I don't even know why she's seriously dating all of a sudden," she sighed. Even in her own mind, Claire knew how ridiculous she sounded. No one could expected to be alone forever, but the sudden arrival of this mystery man in her mother's life did nothing to relieve her of her worries.
"Why do you want me to meet your mother?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why do you want me to meet your mother?" he calmly asked again.
"What am I, five? Stop being stupid Bryce -"
"Answer the question Claire," he sternly replied
"Because," she shrugged her discomfort, her eyes back on the top of her chocolate chip muffin. "Because I think your special and a nice guy . . . She's my best friend, and you mean a lot to me. Why wouldn't I want you to meet?"
"Maybe that's exactly why she wants you to meet Mr. Vaughn."
"I still don't like it."
Bryce smiled sweetly at her. "You don't have to like it Claire. God knows if my parents were dating, I'd go ballistic too."
"Your parents are married," she grumbled.
"Yeah, well, y'know," he teased, delighted to see her chuckle. "You can't get rid of her."
"I know," she sucked in a deep breath. "I just don't want to lose her."
"From what I can get, your mom is nuts about you. You're never going to lose her. Not in a million years. All she wants is you to be nice to one guy for one afternoon. Who knows, maybe after that it'll all blow up in her face."
"I don't think so," she sighed. "She was in love with him, when she was younger. She even told me."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I'm starting to think she never stopped loving him."
"This is bad because?" he asked, feeling idiotic as he posed the question.
"Because he just broke her heart the first time. . . It wasn't on purpose. Mom knows it, and really I do too. He just . . He broke her, I think in a way she still is broken over it because I still think she wants to cry about it sometimes. Or kick his ass," she mumbled, causing his eyebrow to rise at the thought of her college-professor mother kicking anyone's ass. "Don't ask," she quickly added. "I just don't think my mom has it in her to have him break her heart again. I mean . . . I know my mom loves me, and I know she cared about my father, but it wasn't like this. I don't think anything else with anyone else was ever quite like it was between them. I mean you can still see it in her eyes when she talks about it," Claire sighed, running her fingers through her hair, leaving a messy wave of brunette behind her big brown eyes. "If he hurts her this time, I'll kill him."
"You'll kill him?" he whispered, both of his eyebrows lifting. Calmly she shrugged her shoulders and sipped her orange juice.
"Or my grandfather will."
"Isn't that a bit extreme?"
"No," she confidently shook her head. "After all he's put her through, if he messes with her again . . . "
Bryce leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling the skin of her nose. "Your mom's obviously forgiven him, what's the big deal?"
"I don't forgive people who hurt her as easily as she does. If she loves someone, she'll forgive them almost anything, no matter what . . . She's my mom. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who hurts her should die," she sighed. Lowering her eyes, she added more for her benefit than his, "my own father included."
"Claire -"
"The moral of the story is he better not screw with her. Or I'll have my uncle and my grandfather and my next door neighbors and the entire Cardinal's basketball team after him."
"Really?" he smirked at the mention of his team.
"She's my mom," she shrugged one last time. "No one pisses me off like she does Bryce. Seriously. Sometimes I just want to scream at her to just leave me alone or whatever . . . Other times though, she's absolutely everything I want. She knows exactly what I need and she just gives it to me without question. She knows when I'm sick and what makes me scared - even when I won't admit it. I know I'm grown up, and she's an adult, but I still need her."
"Parents are confusing creatures," he agreed as she laughed.
"I'll be nice, and I'll be polite, but I don't have to like him."
Bryce rolled his eyes, "I doubt your mom expects you to."
"I still reserve the right to kill him."
He sighed and returned to his food, no longer doubting that she had the ability to do just that.
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." - Robert Frost Twenty years post "The Telling"; Surviving the worse case scenario.
Authors Note: Special thank you to Dae. Thank you again for being so wonderful. Also, now thanks to you I FINALLY know what a Mary Sue is! (it was like asking my classmates where the college cafeteria was today - I hate asking things when everyone else seems to just know like it's common sense!) Also, I went back and acted on some of your suggestions, so I hope it meets your expectations!
Dedication: To my Mom. Mind you, she'll never read this, but eighteen years ago she was preparing to give birth to yours truly, so the least she deserves is a dedication.
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The first Sunday back in Stanford, Claire found herself sitting in the back pew of the Memorial Church on campus, shortly after four in the evening. In just a little while the weekly Catholic mass would begin, and for some reason she had found herself there although she'd never gone before. Somewhere deep in her subconscious she heard her Mother warning her not to dare change herself for any boy, although she swore that was not her intention. Instead she simply hoped to accidentally-on-purpose run into Bryce. The Cardinals had been on a brief road trip since she returned from Christmas break, and she was anticipating the earliest possible moment to see him again
As the anxiety of her non-existent plan bubbled in her stomach, a familiar figure tossed her a warm smile as he slid into the pew next to her. Without a word she watched him collapse to his knees in silent prayer as Claire drew her eyes away from him. Being away from him for Christmas break had not been torture, but it wasn't until Bryce sat next to her once again that she realized just how much she'd missed him. One thing she admired about him was his constant sense of calm, and his ability to allow his calm to spill over into her blood. Without having even kissed him, she was relatively sure she was falling in love with him, although she heard her grandfather's subtle warning of just how young she was for such serious notions.\par
\tab For an hour not a word was passed as they sat side by side in the pew. Following his cue, she trailed behind him to Eucharist, barely remembering the sacrament that she had first celebrated over a decade ago. Politely he waited for her to return to the pew, allowing her to return to her original seat that was theirs alone. At the end of the mass he stumbled for her hand on their way out the door. The skin of her cheeks burnt as she sent him a smile, allowing him to lead her to a nearby bench in a corner of the campus that was all but deserted on a Sunday evening.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly. When her head raised, her eyes shone confusion as he looked at her skeptically. "Something's bothering you. What's up?"
"My mom . . ." Claire sighed, unable to look at him as she studied a few students walking along in the distance, so wrapped up in conversation that they failed to notice her attention. "When we were in Los Angeles, she disappeared over night. I came back from hanging out with Laura and she was just . . . Gone. Didn't get in until nearly seven thirty the next morning."
"Did you call the police?"
Her head shook as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture that was endearingly familiar to her companion. "My Uncle Will said not to yet, that she could handle herself . . . I know my mom thinks I'm stupid, that I don't know what's going on, but I know she spent the night with that man . . ."
"What man?"
"An old boyfriend," she dismissively shook her head. "Michael . . .Vaughn, I think," Claire shrugged. "I just . . . I hate the fact that she doesn't think I figured it out, that she wouldn't just tell me. She made up some bullshit story about falling asleep on a friend's sofa. I'm not five anymore," she looked at him. "I don't need to be protected."
Bryce smiled sweetly, "she's your mom. She's always going to protect you."
"Plus . . . Damn, did it have to be the day before Christmas Eve? It's not like we have all that much time to spend together anymore . . . It's not like we ever did," she added softly. "Mom has always tried," she emphasized as he silently nodded. "It was hard though. She had her classes, and that's a lot of work . . . Plus for a long time she was in school. Sometimes I'd just be happy to sit there while she did some work, that way I could at least be around her . . . There were times when I wanted to be alone, but sometimes I just wanted her to be around and she had to work or I had school or something . . . I get it. I do, I know how hard she's worked but . . . Sorry," she chuckled and shook her head. Claire glanced at him, meeting his green eyes. "I must sound pretty absurd."
"Nah," he promised. "My dad travels a lot, to recruit and stuff, but my mom was always around. I've always had my sisters around to bother me, so I always had to share my parents," he teased.
"I'm just not used to it," she conceded, looking down at her new sneakers. A gift from her grandmother, a woman who had insisted that a young girl who did as well as a goalie in her first season at Stanford as she did deserved the best footwear imaginable. Then her mother had piped in that it was just because her grandmother had a shoe fetish she wished to share with her granddaughter. Claire suspected the truth laid somewhere in between. Sighing, her brown eyes raised, a new shade of sadness, "I just thought I was always enough for her."
"Hey," he dropped her hand, his arm around her to pull her close. "You are *so* enough for her, but your growing up. I mean you just left her all alone in that big house. She had to have a hobby."
"Why couldn't she learn to knit?" Claire sighed, resting her head into the niche of his shoulder.
Under her hear she heard his heart beating steadily and heard his warm body rumble. "Because," he answered once his laughter had subsided, "no one but my grandmother knits."
Briefly her nose wrinkled, not imagining the grandmother she knew as the knitting type. Mindful of the lie she had maintained her entire life, she answered, "my grandmother used to sew my mom's Halloween costumes."
Bryce lowered his head slightly, managing for his green eyes to lock with hers, "does this mean I don't get to meet your mother?"
"No," she sighed and sat up fully. Leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, he traced his hand soothingly up and down her back, relieved to see the anger slowly draining from her tense frame. "Two week from yesterday, Mom's coming. She's going to get tickets. My Uncle Will or my grandfather might come too."\par
\tab "Should I be scared?" he teased.
"Maybe," she chuckled, looking away. "They're good guys. My Uncle Will is the greatest guy I've ever known, seriously," Claire explained. Quickly she turned towards him in curiosity, "how was Arizona?"
"We went 2-0 against Arizona State and Arizona, although Tucson sucked. Some cartoonist died, she was a big celebrity there, and it was all over the news. I think every cartoon fan in the United States was in Tucson and our hotel."
"Well, for the record I'm not at all surprised you won," she smiled.
"So," Bryce grew sober as her eyes remained on his profile. "Have you even met this guy?"
"No, thank god," she sighed. "I don't want to. Frankly, I don't want to think about it. I mean, my mom's totally entitled to a life, to her friends and her hobbies, but I don't want to think about anything else."
"Didn't you like the guy she was dating?"
"Peter," she grinned. "Yeah," Claire conceded, "but that was different. I knew him before she did. He was my Math teacher sophomore year . . . I even had a bit of a crush on him," she admitted, her cheeks burning. "Next to my uncle and my grandfather and my Uncle Rick, I think Peter is one of the best guys I've ever met."
"Hey," he playfully nudged her. "What about me?"
"Your obviously number one," she teased.
"C'mon knucklehead," he slowly stood, grabbing her hand to prompt her to do the same. "Let's go get a bite to eat. My treat."
"Good, I'm starving," Claire agreed, her hand tucked securely in his as they walked.
The spring semester dawned at Humboldt State on a mild day in January. Sydney hadn't seen Vaughn since he arrived on her doorstep Monday afternoon. After that he'd been busy unpacking his old life and settling into the new one. Her life had gone on quite successfully without him, and she easily stayed busy. There were phone calls to Claire, meeting with new students and preparing course material. Academia always kept her busy, kept her mind running too hard to remember that her daughter was hundreds of miles away or that she was taking a massive risk by allowing herself to once again jump head first into a relationship with Vaughn. Not for the first time was she grateful for the hectic nature of her occupation.
Five days passed before she saw him again. Late Friday evening found her on Humboldt's all-weather track, the reassuring pound of her feet hitting the track bouncing rhythmically to her ears. An hour earlier she'd been in her house, finishing her evening conversation with Claire. The slightly burnt microwave dinner that she had prepared herself quickly lost it's appeal, and after less than three bites had found its way to the floor, an unexpected treat for an eager Gehrig. After that it was just a quick change into her running clothes, grabbing her duffel and keys before heading out the door. Pulling the car out of the driveway, she waved at Peter as he pulled his car into Georgia's half of the driveway, prompt to pick her up for their first date.
Thinking of Peter and Georgia, out on what was sure to be a slightly awkward first date, she thought back to Rick and Georgia. Once upon a time she had envied them greatly, although she wished no harm upon them. They were married for thirty years, happily, and she had rarely seen them fight. Rick's death had been unexpected and difficult on all of them, but Georgia had survived, just as her late husband would have wanted her to. The correlation between Rick and Georgia and her life twenty years earlier was obvious, although it wasn't until she was alone at night, either correcting papers or reading, that she allowed herself to think it. In the end they all knew Rick wouldn't be coming back, as painful as the reality was, and she knew that he'd want his best friend and his wife to be happy.
Just as she wanted for Claire, and her parents, and Vaughn, even if Vaughn's happiness meant twenty years without her around. That was the trouble with loving someone. You could love them, but you couldn't control them, even if what made them happy left you absolutely miserable. The idea of Claire going to Humboldt was one she had dreamed of for ages, imagined her daughter even picking up an English major just as her mother and grandmother had, of being an active participant in her daughter's college years. Unfortunately her dream was not her daughter's dream, and she had to let her go, even if it meant her little girl was hundreds of miles away embarking on what was the most fantastic journey of her young life.
"Hey."
Sydney's feet stopped their frantic pace. Pausing for a moment to regain her breath, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at the sight. Vaughn slowly strolled over, looking as attractive as she could remember in his jeans and t-shirt. "It's Friday Syd, shouldn't you be home relaxing?"
"I am relaxing," she grinned, softly thanking him for the towel he had grabbed off of her duffel. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd look here before I ended up on your back stoop again," he smiled at her.
"How was your first week?"
"Well . . Considering Weiss warned me of every trick he played on his professors in college, I was well prepared," Vaughn answered, gracing her with a half smile.
"Good," she nodded. "What are you doing next Saturday?"
"I don't know, what am I doing next Saturday?" he returned the question. Sydney Bristow hadn't changed that much, and in his experience when she asked a question, she already had a plan.
"Stanford's playing USC next Saturday, in the afternoon, at Stanford. I promised Claire . . . Bryce O'Neil, he's on the basketball team, they're good friends. I promised her I'd go to a game. I'll probably leave Friday after classes . . . I thought you might like to come. I'm supposed to meet Bryce. You could meet Claire."
"Do you want me to meet Claire?" he carefully inquired.
Sydney studied her soiled sneakers for a moment, wiping the sweat off of her face with the towel. Then she lifted her head, nodding slowly, "yeah," she replied as the smile slowly spread across her face. "I really would."
"Sure," he smiled and nodded.
"It won't be a problem . . . With Alex or anything?"
"No," he shook his head. "No problem at all."
"How is she doing?" she questioned as they began to slowly walk towards her half open duffel.
"Some days, when I talk to her, I think she's doing well. Starting to get back to where she was . . . Then other days . . . I just don't know," he sighed and shook his head. "The worst part is I can't make it better. I can't protect her from the bully or buy her a fudgesicle and make her smile."
"Your her dad, she knows you're there for whatever she needs."
"I just . . ." he sighed and shook his head. "I know Matt will take care of her. He's a good man Syd, and I know he loves Alex like she was his own . . . I still worry about her."
"It's funny," she chuckled slightly, his eyes on her as Sydney continued. "When I was pregnant, I was always talking about how I was having a baby. How *I* was having a baby . . . Which really," she considered with a slight shake of her head. Finally her eyes met his as she continued. "It's a lie. When it comes down to it, we really don't have our children - they have us. Whether they realize it or not."
"They don't," he sighed. "And they probably won't until they have their own children."
Sydney laughed as he opened the door for her, allowing her to breeze by him on their way out. "I don't want to think about being a grandmother."
"When it happens, no matter when it happens, it'll be too soon."
"Right now it's enough for me that she's in college," Sydney insisted. "She's never been too serious about boys, not until recently . . . Hopefully I'll have a long time before I worry about that."
Vaughn smiled, the uninvited image of her slightly aged but no less beautiful, sitting along side him on her back stoop as grandchildren ran around the massive yard arrived in his head. The picture was, at best, a long time in the future. At worst it would be forever an unfulfilled dream. "Vaughn?" Sydney called, smiling in slight confusion as he emerged from his thoughts. "Are you hungry?"
"I'd offer to cook, but I can barely walk around my apartment."\line\tab Her laughter only left his smile growing wider. "The faculty apartments leave something to be desired."
"Yeah, like space to breathe," he muttered, grinning in her direction.
"Have you started looking for another place?"
"Not yet," Vaughn explained.
"You might want to start. It took me three months to find something and then for everything with the mortgage to go through."
"If it wasn't for Alex, I probably wouldn't bother," he sighed. "I don't know where I'm going to put her when she comes to visit."
"When is she coming?" Sydney looked at him with sincere interest in her eyes.
"I don't know yet," he conceded. Silently they agreed to take his car, his instincts taking over as he held the passenger's door open for her before he got in. "She's talked about coming to Humboldt, but I don't know if she was serious or just upset. Plus Eric and Meg said that she could stay with them if she wanted to go to school in L.A."
"Well, she doesn't have to come here to look at the school. She could just come here to spend some time with you. Maybe during spring break, when you're free. You could even show her around the campus, or I could arrange for a student tour guide."
Vaughn caved in to the urge to take her hand as he drove through the sleepy campus, awed at her willingness to help him and his daughter. Considering this was a woman who was willing to risk her life on countless occasions to keep a country of strangers safe, he scolded himself for being so ridiculous. There was nothing in life Sydney Bristow valued more than her loved ones, and after far too long he was back in that esteemed circle.
"I still don't know where I'm going to put her," he chuckled.
"She could stay with me," Sydney easily offered. At the surprised expression in her eye, she clarified. "Only if she's comfortable. I have the pull out sofa, and there's plenty of room. There are two rooms in the basement that are finished, but they're empty. If she wanted to she could just get a sleeping bag and stay down there - if she really didn't want to see much of me."
"What about Claire?"
"She's away at school," she shrugged, a sadness briefly in her eyes. "Either way, I'm sure she wouldn't mind," she dismissed. "They might get along," Sydney suggested.
"With each other or with us?"
Her brown eyes easily rolled, "with each other. Although it would be nice if they got along with us too."
Somberly Vaughn finally broke their easy laughter, "I wouldn't expect too much from Alex, Syd. At least not now. This isn't a very easy time for her."
"I don't expect anything from her Vaughn," she promised. "I understand this is a tough time for her. If she wants to talk, that'd be great, but if she just wants a place to stay and for me to leave her alone, I can do that too."
In his seat, pulling on to her street, he nodded. None of this would come easy. The road ahead for them was only bumpier, and he couldn't help of thinking all the trouble he could have spared them if he had just been more patient, less quick to accept the CIA's belief that she was dead. Still, there was the chance, the slightest of possibilities, that all of the heartache, the detours and struggles they had endured had all been necessary to bring them to that very point where they were together.
Gehrig was quickly out the door once his mistress entered, doing his business and running around his yard. Zelda quickly jumped onto Vaughn's lap, purring contently as Sydney laughed at the cat's behavior. Sydney's implied offer of making dinner was quickly discarded with the notion of ordering Chinese. Within an hour they sat in her living room, watching a basketball game and eating out of Chinese food cartons with plastic forks that she had found in her drawer.
"You don't have to be here," she sighed against his neck hours later. The alarm clock on her side table had just turned to quarter after eleven as his warm hand rested on the familiar flesh of her hip. Lifting her eyes from the light dusting of hair on his chest, she was instantly looking into his baffled green eyes. "I understand Vaughn . . . This isn't an easy time for you. If spending the night makes it more difficult . . . I would never ask you to do that."
His fingers ran gently through her hair before he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. "Syd," he whispered softly, brushing his lips against her temple before setting his mouth near to her ear. So close that his warm breath tickled the nearby skin of her neck. "Syd . . . I'm sad," Vaughn confessed, feeling her fingers gently running through his own crisp locks of hair. "I'm sad for Matt and my heart is breaking for Alex," he admitted before he pulled back. Once again their eyes locked, hers eager for him to continue. "Losing Kate isn't like losing you," he gently tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear as he continued. "It wouldn't have been even if we were still married. I'm not ashamed of it either - I loved her, and I always will, but she's not you," he finished, leaning down to capture her lips. "This is exactly where I want to be," he promised, his vow muffled against the skin of her shoulder.
"I'll get a room in Stanford for us," she promised.
When he pulled back, the smile on his face was eager mixed with an understandable caution. Michael Vaughn could only hope that Claire Bristow hadn't inherited her mother's ability to kick his ass. "You got the tickets?"
"Yes, I did," she grinned. "I just have to call Claire tomorrow and tell her."
Vaughn nodded, nestling his head into the crook of her shoulder. Holding Sydney tightly to him, sharing in a warmth that for so long he was afraid he'd never find again, he only hoped Claire Bristow would be as excited about his presence as her mother was.
Whenever the phone rang in their dorm on a Saturday afternoon, Laura never even bothered to answer it. Since their first full week in Stanford, it was always Claire's mother. In some ways she envied her roommate's constant phone calls to and from her mother, along with various uncles and her grandfather. Her parents called twice a week, a few minutes on the phone and money sent. Not that she didn't understand. Her parents had a whole houseful of kids to raise, while all Claire's family had was her. Then there were days when she was glad to be free, not to have to worry about being around to hear from them. Either way, the phone calls kept coming, and for the most part Claire did nothing to discourage it.
That afternoon in January was no different. Sitting on her bed when the phone rang, Laura looked over to see her roommate glance to the phone in surprise. Calmly, Claire marked her page before reaching over to pick up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey sweetie."
"Hi Mom!" she greeted, a smile appearing on her face. "What's up?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Sydney laughed.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong Tinkerbelle, why do you ask?"
The knife continued to twist in Claire's gut, "you sound like something's bothering you. You sound upset or nervous or something. Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine," she soothed in a voice so sincere her daughter had no choice but to believe her. It was the same voice she had used to tell tales about Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny for well over a decade. "How are you?"
"Fine. Just doing some reading."
"Good."
Eager to get to the important part of the conversation, she asked, "so, did you get the tickets to the game?"
"Yes," she slowly answered. "I got three tickets."
"Oh," she replied. The surprise was obvious in her hesitation before she hopefully continued. "Is Uncle Will coming?"
Back home, sitting at her kitchen table with Gehrig patiently at her feet, Sydney swallowed her fears. "No," she finally replied. "Vaughn is."
"Damnit Mom! I told you I didn't want to meet him!"
"You never said that."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I thought it would be nice. I thought, since I was meeting Bryce -"
"Exactly!" Claire cut her off. "This was supposed to be about you meeting Bryce! Why are you doing this?"
"I want you two to meet. I thought we could all meet at once -"
"Damnit, I'm not ready! Why are you pushing this?"
"This is important to me Claire."
"Stop this Mom! I don't want to meet him!"
"Vaughn is coming with me. I don't expect you to like him, but I do expect you to be pleasant and polite. Who knows, you might even end up liking him."
The only sound to greet Sydney was the dial tone.
Laura raised her eyes from her book in surprise as her friend angrily smashed the phone down onto the hook. "What's wrong?"
"Bad connection," Claire explained, not meeting her friends eyes. Abruptly she stood off the bed and grabbed her keys.
"Where are you going? It's pouring out."
"I'm going for a run," she quickly informed her. "I'll be back later. If my Mom calls, just tell her I'm out," she added before grabbing a sweatshirt and disappearing out of their dorm room.
Staring at the phone, it was only a few seconds later that it rung. With no other choice, she picked it up trepidaciously. "Hello?"
"Hi, Laura. This is Sydney, Claire's mom. Is she around?"
"I'm sorry Sydney, Claire just left," she explained, hoping the other woman didn't hear her grimace as she recalled the slam that had accompanied Claire's exit.
"Oh," she replied. In a single syllable, Laura was amazed at the worry, disappointment and concern one mother could convey. Subconsciously she suspected it was a trait all adults acquired with parenthood. The sound even left her feeling guilty, and she wasn't even the woman's daughter. "Please let her know I called, will you?"
"Of course."
Sounding more upbeat, Sydney continued, "maybe I'll get to see you next weekend. I'm coming down for the basketball game. I was hoping to meet Bryce. Maybe all of us could go out to dinner or something."\par
\tab "That sounds nice," Laura agreed. She had no problems with Sydney Bristow. In fact she thought that, despite her boring occupation, she was one of the more interesting and likable parents she had ever encountered.
"Okay. I guess I'll talk to you later. Take care."
"Thanks Sydney, you too," she replied and set the phone down. Sighing, she shook her head, for the first time more than happy that she wasn't a part of whatever drama was about to unfold.
The truth was it wouldn't take a lot for Bryce O'Neal to confess that he was likely falling in love with the Bristow girl. That's what his friends called her, the Bristow girl, or the Bristow goalie. Things had started simply enough, in the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas break when the campus had been monsooned with an uncharacteristic rain. She had stood there, soaking wet and beautiful. He'd done what his parents and grandparents had always taught him, moved over his duffel bag and freed the chair next to him. It was only when she was finally sitting next to him, her brown eyes twinkling, that he hoped the stench of his recent basketball practice didn't linger too heavily.
To say he had spent every free moment with her since than would be nothing short of the truth. At twenty-one years old, he had never bothered to take the time to really get to know a girl and certainly had never been so quickly passionate about one. There had been a few short term girlfriends, but no one that sparked his legitimate interest or who were even seriously interested in him. So many things had taken precedent over girls. His family, his studies, his sports and the church he was raised in all came first. In between tennis, baseball, basketball and keeping himself on the honor roll, that hadn't meant time for much else in high school. When he did have free time, he wasn't interested in many of his friend's activities. Instead he was happy to sit at home and watch movies, or practice jump shots in his driveway with his father.
College hadn't been much different. With the exception of being thousands of miles from home, he was fine. Basketball and schoolwork came before any other priority except his weekly obligation to the church. He'd been recognized during his sophomore year as Scholar Athlete of the basketball division of the Pac-10, and had the highest GPA on his team. Stir in the fact that he was the highest scorer on the team and he roomed with the captain of the golf team, he was doing remarkably well for himself.
Then there was Claire. She was beautiful, and so tiny compared to where he stood at a few inches over six feet. Her knowledge of sports envied his, and he'd been raised by a former NBA player and a woman who had played on two Olympic softball teams. As a finance major, many of his classes were similar to hers as an economics major, leaving even more topics of discussion. Things had quickly escalated from seemingly accidental meetings to how it was now routine for them to eat breakfast together. She could hold her own with every guy on the basketball team, she took no trash from them and while they playfully called her by her last name, it was obvious they respected and even liked her.
Although they hadn't known her very long, he was confident he knew so many little things about her. Things that he adored and she probably didn't even realize she did. The way she pushed her hair behind her ear when she talked. The way she unconsciously twisted her mouth up in the corner when she was deep in thought. Every morning she had a bagel for breakfast. Always with cream cheese, unless it was an everything bagel and then she would only use butter. The way she spoke about her family, it was obvious she was very close to her uncles and aunts and her grandfather. More than that, it was obvious at the end of the day that she adored her mother.
That was why, as he sat across from her on a Monday less that a week before he was scheduled to meet the woman he knew was Claire's best friend in the universe, he wondered what had her sullen and discontent. Very little got her down - that was part of the reason he liked her so much. Nothing certainly kept her down for long either, and everything made her laugh. Unlike so many other girls and woman he'd met is life, his own sisters included, she wasn't hard to please or amuse. That morning he'd tried everything, from surprising her with a chocolate chip muffin to brazenly telling her how pretty he thought she looked, even early on a Monday morning in an aged Kings jersey and what were obviously pajama bottoms.
"If you don't tell me, I can't fix it."
Claire sighed against her juice container and put it back down on the rackety (rickety?) dining hall table. "You can't fix it anyway," she sighed, tearing one half of her bagel in two, just as she did every morning.
"Well, I can at least try."
Another sigh and another wave of her hair pushed back behind her ears. "My Mother's bringing him."
"Him who?"
"Mr. Vaughn. Michael, whatever his name is," she pushed her food away from her. "I don't know why she's bringing him. I told her I didn't want her too, that I didn't want to meet him . . . Maybe I'm being selfish or self absorbed or childish or whatever," she groaned. "It's just . . . This trip was supposed to be about her meeting you. That's all. Just the two of us going to a basketball game, the three of us going out and then maybe Mom and I hanging out for awhile. Now it's all ruined."
Even during her less than stellar moments, he couldn't help but be nuts about her. As a result he did his best to hide his smile and nodded. "Whatever it is she's doing, I doubt it's without your best interest at heart. Who knows, maybe you'll really like this guy."
"I don't get what's so special about this guy anyway. Why she insists that I meet him. I don't even know why she's seriously dating all of a sudden," she sighed. Even in her own mind, Claire knew how ridiculous she sounded. No one could expected to be alone forever, but the sudden arrival of this mystery man in her mother's life did nothing to relieve her of her worries.
"Why do you want me to meet your mother?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why do you want me to meet your mother?" he calmly asked again.
"What am I, five? Stop being stupid Bryce -"
"Answer the question Claire," he sternly replied
"Because," she shrugged her discomfort, her eyes back on the top of her chocolate chip muffin. "Because I think your special and a nice guy . . . She's my best friend, and you mean a lot to me. Why wouldn't I want you to meet?"
"Maybe that's exactly why she wants you to meet Mr. Vaughn."
"I still don't like it."
Bryce smiled sweetly at her. "You don't have to like it Claire. God knows if my parents were dating, I'd go ballistic too."
"Your parents are married," she grumbled.
"Yeah, well, y'know," he teased, delighted to see her chuckle. "You can't get rid of her."
"I know," she sucked in a deep breath. "I just don't want to lose her."
"From what I can get, your mom is nuts about you. You're never going to lose her. Not in a million years. All she wants is you to be nice to one guy for one afternoon. Who knows, maybe after that it'll all blow up in her face."
"I don't think so," she sighed. "She was in love with him, when she was younger. She even told me."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I'm starting to think she never stopped loving him."
"This is bad because?" he asked, feeling idiotic as he posed the question.
"Because he just broke her heart the first time. . . It wasn't on purpose. Mom knows it, and really I do too. He just . . He broke her, I think in a way she still is broken over it because I still think she wants to cry about it sometimes. Or kick his ass," she mumbled, causing his eyebrow to rise at the thought of her college-professor mother kicking anyone's ass. "Don't ask," she quickly added. "I just don't think my mom has it in her to have him break her heart again. I mean . . . I know my mom loves me, and I know she cared about my father, but it wasn't like this. I don't think anything else with anyone else was ever quite like it was between them. I mean you can still see it in her eyes when she talks about it," Claire sighed, running her fingers through her hair, leaving a messy wave of brunette behind her big brown eyes. "If he hurts her this time, I'll kill him."
"You'll kill him?" he whispered, both of his eyebrows lifting. Calmly she shrugged her shoulders and sipped her orange juice.
"Or my grandfather will."
"Isn't that a bit extreme?"
"No," she confidently shook her head. "After all he's put her through, if he messes with her again . . . "
Bryce leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling the skin of her nose. "Your mom's obviously forgiven him, what's the big deal?"
"I don't forgive people who hurt her as easily as she does. If she loves someone, she'll forgive them almost anything, no matter what . . . She's my mom. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who hurts her should die," she sighed. Lowering her eyes, she added more for her benefit than his, "my own father included."
"Claire -"
"The moral of the story is he better not screw with her. Or I'll have my uncle and my grandfather and my next door neighbors and the entire Cardinal's basketball team after him."
"Really?" he smirked at the mention of his team.
"She's my mom," she shrugged one last time. "No one pisses me off like she does Bryce. Seriously. Sometimes I just want to scream at her to just leave me alone or whatever . . . Other times though, she's absolutely everything I want. She knows exactly what I need and she just gives it to me without question. She knows when I'm sick and what makes me scared - even when I won't admit it. I know I'm grown up, and she's an adult, but I still need her."
"Parents are confusing creatures," he agreed as she laughed.
"I'll be nice, and I'll be polite, but I don't have to like him."
Bryce rolled his eyes, "I doubt your mom expects you to."
"I still reserve the right to kill him."
He sighed and returned to his food, no longer doubting that she had the ability to do just that.