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.
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A roadtrip to Oregon was immediately on the docket for the Cardinal's after their USC win that weekend. Three and a half weeks later, on the last day of February Stanford celebrated Senior Day during its last home game of the season, a victory against Oregon. By then Sydney and Vaughn were back home, slowly growing accustomed to a routine that saw them spending more time together than apart. The ease to which she allowed herself to fall back into that life with him scared her. By her side on the sofa as they watched Kings games or sitting across from her half-awake brown eyes over breakfast, Vaughn allowed himself the pleasure of tucking her hand in his or soothing her with a gentle kiss. Nothing flashy or monumental by any means, just a silent reassurance that her fears were his fears but this time he wasn't going anywhere.
Just a little over two months past Kate's death, Vaughn found himself alone in his apartment on a Monday in March. Rarely was he even in the tiny residency they dubbed his faculty apartment, and it was even rarer for him to be alone. In truth he had no plans of even staying the night. However he was all but certain there were life forms now growing in his refrigerator, and Sydney had been invited out with Georgia and a few other friends. Well aware that he'd greedily monopolized her time since he arrived, he'd gladly given her his blessing to go enjoy a much deserved Girl's Night Out. In the meantime he was busy working on his next lecture when the phone in his apartment rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi Daddy."
"Alex," he smiled. Steadily the anguish was leaving her voice with only a halo of sorrow remaining. Matt continued to e-mail him a few times throughout the week to let him know how she was doing, and while he made it a priority to call her every other day, it was unusual for her to contact him. "How are you sweetheart?"
"Okay," she answered, releasing a soft sigh. "Can I come visit?"
"Sure!" he eagerly replied, leaning forward in his seat. "Of course you can sweetheart, you don't even have to ask. When would you like to come out?"
"I'm going to Lake Forest tomorrow. I'm supposed to land at O'Hare tomorrow afternoon. Matt was supposed to tell you."
"He did," Vaughn assured her.
"Anyway. I wanted to stay for a few weeks, since Lindsay and Mandie both have Spring Break this month, just different weeks."
"I'm glad you'll be able to spend some time with them," he commented.
"Me too," she agreed and he thought he might have even sensed a smile. "Anyway, I was hoping maybe I could come out on the twentieth, if that's okay?"
"That's fine honey. Spring Break here is the week before that, but I don't have to work every day, so we'll have time together."
"Good. I can't wait to see this place."
"Actually sweetheart . . ." he looked skeptically around his cramped space. "I was wondering if you'd like to stay at my friend's home. My place . . . until I get an apartment off campus, there's not much room. Obviously, if you want to stay here you can, we can work it out, but you might be more comfortable -"
"At Sydney's?" Alex finished for him, her voice playful.
Vaughn sighed, a slight grin on his face as he shook his head. "How did you know I was referring to Sydney?"
"I'm not blind, deaf *and* dumb Daddy," she explained. "If Sydney doesn't mind, I'll stay there."
"Okay, one second," he requested as he stood and walked over to his desk. "Actually, you'll be able to meet Claire too."
"Who's Claire?"
"Sydney's daughter. She's a freshman at Stanford. She's a nice girl, I think you'll like her."
"Will it be a problem? My staying there while her daughter's on Spring Break?"
"No, not at all. Actually it was Sydney's suggestion that you stay at her house. There's just more room for you that way."
"Okay."
"If it gets to be too much, you can always come here," Vaughn softly assured her.
"Please check with her though, please Daddy? I really don't want to be in the way."
"You won't be in the way honey," he promised. "It's really nice here. We're not too far from Oregon too, so maybe we could do a road trip. You've never been to Oregon, have you?"
"Does playing the Oregon Trail game count?"
"No," he chuckled. "We could go there if you want. We could do a lot of things. If you just want to relax that'd be great too."
"Calm down Dad," she urged. "You are going to show me this school of yours, right?"
"Of course sweetheart, I'll give you a personally guided tour of Humboldt."
"Good," she confirmed. "Actually, I'm going to look at a few schools in Chicago while I'm there, and Lake Forest has a college too. I don't think I want to go out there, but I mean if I do, at least Lindsay and Mandie will be there to help me out."
"Just look around sweetheart. Wherever you want to go is fine with me. You can always go back to Arizona."
"I know," she promised. "I'm going to go Dad. I still have to finish packing. I love you."
"I love you too honey. Have a good flight tomorrow, and please give me a call on the cell phone when you land."
"I will," she vowed. "Night Dad," Alex spoke and hung up.
The smile was wide on his face as Vaughn hung up the phone. As much as Kate had apparently urged Alex to consider going to HSU, he hadn't expected his daughter to make the effort. In fact he wasn't seriously expecting a visit until summer, no matter how much he wanted to see her. Alex was in an understandably difficult place - if she wanted to go visit her cousins or her friends in different states and away from him, he'd gladly support if it if helped her heal. Now she was coming to Trinidad, all aspects of his life were finally colliding together. Vaughn grabbed his keys off of the kitchen table, along with his briefcase, and headed out the door, eager to find Sydney.
"Syd!" he called as he walked into the house late that evening. Gehrig sniffed his ankles only briefly before whipping by him for the yard. The three cats, curled up with authority in Gehrig's doggie bed, only briefly opened their eyes before going back to sleep. Vaughn was no longer an intruder in their world, and his entrance no longer caused the commotion it once did. "Syd?" he called, hanging his keys on the keyholder in between Sydney's home keys and her work keys. If it wasn't for the large Kings keychain on her home keys, Vaughn knew he'd never be able to tell the difference between the two.
Shrugging off his coat, he walked over to the kitchen table and rested it there. To his confusion, he noticed a new roll of dark blue contact paper resting on the surface of the table, right in front of the vase of flowers he'd given her just a few days ago. Picking it up, he examined it as he heard footsteps. When he turned around, the sight that greeted him melted his heart and prompted his smile. Free of make up or jewelry, her feet bare, her jeans starting to obviously age at the knees and the baseball shirt one he swore she'd owned when he'd known her another lifetime ago. There was nothing more beautiful than a natural Sydney Bristow. Even without make up, when she smiled, she glowed.
"Hey," she smiled, brushing hair off of her face and leaning up to gently kiss him.
"Syd?" he motioned to the roll of contact paper he still held in his hand. "Is there a certain reason that you bought contact paper?"
"Actually," Sydney's grin grew. "There is," she assured him, the twinkle in her eye.
"Well?" he waited. Without a word, she took his hand and began to lead him through the kitchen and family room and up the stairs. "What are we doing Syd?"
"You'll see," she replied, still leading the way and the smile obvious in her tone. Opening the door to her bedroom, they entered as she dropped her hand and looked at him.
"What?" Vaughn looked around. "You want me to wallpaper your bedroom with contact paper?"
"No," she laughed. "I like my walls they way they are," she insisted. Instead she walked around the bed to what had quickly become his side of the bedroom and opened the closet door. Then she looked at him, finding his expression blank. "Come here," she urged. Within moments he was by her side as she clasped his hand and walked him into the closet. "That," she pointed to the unopened contact paper in his hands, "is for *that*," she nodded her head. In the back of the walk in closet was a four-drawer dresser. On the bare closet rod were at least two dozen white plastic hangers, obviously new. Finally Sydney met her eyes, her smile giddy and her eyes twinkling, "The closet's yours."
"Are you sure?" he replied.
Sydney laughed and nodded. "Yes. I was sure then and I'm sure now. I mean . . . Okay, your not living out of a backpack now, but the duffel's a little ridiculous too," she insisted, her dimples as wide as he could remember. "Well?" she asked as he surveyed the small walking space.
"You're a genius," he whispered, leaning in and capturing her lips.
"Maybe," she laughed in between kisses. "Mmhm," she regretfully pulled away, his eyes surprised as she smiled. "There's something else," she confessed. Bewildered, Vaughn allowed her to take his hand and lead him out of the closet. A knowing smile on her face, Sydney led him over to her dresser and dropped his hand.
"What are you doing?" he chuckled as she began to search her drawer.
Sydney briefly looked up in the mirror and smiled, "You'll see," she promised. As she began to rummage through her drawers, Vaughn's eyes drew back to their reflection, bouncing back at them off of the dresser mirror.
He took a half step forward, feeling her back brush up against his shirt as he slid his arms effortlessly around her waist. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. The grin on her face grew and her skin seemed to glow as she looked up at him before Sydney turned her attention back to her drawer. Seconds later he watched her pull open her jean drawer. As his eyes watched her search for some unknown object, he couldn't help but wonder if she had any lingerie. After fifteen years alone, he doubted that she'd even consider looking at such items. Not that he minded, he knew long ago that lingerie and tight clothes belonged to other men in a different world. The real Sydney, barefeet and worn denim, belonged only to him.
"Here it is!" Sydney spoke, a small box appearing out of the mass of denim. Squirming in his arms, she lifted herself to sit on the edge of the dark dresser and handed the box to him. "Here."
"You've never given me anything before," he spoke softly, one eyebrow lifting as she shrugged.
"Then it's about time . . . It's really not a gift," she quickly added. "Just open it."
Vaughn cracked a smile as he lifted the top off of the tiny cardboard box. The smile slowly disappeared as he looked up at her, "It's a key."
"It's a key to the back door," she answered, taking it from him and looking at it. "You almost gave me a key once . . . Vaughn, I don't know if I can ever really understand what drove you back into my life. I'm still not sure I completely understand what sent you into my life in the first place . . ." she trailed off, studying the key as he carefully watched her. "A drawer or even a closet isn't enough anymore," Sydney conceded. "It's just not. I want more than that . . . I think you do too," she softly added as he nodded, meeting her eyes. "I don't want you to find an apartment."
"You want to live together," he spoke, his lips curved slightly.
Sydney's eyes dropped, the hair blocking her face before she looked up and smiled, "I do."
"You really are a genius," he teased, leaning in to kiss her again.
Laughing between kisses, she agreed, "Probably," as he laughed. Once again he greedily captured her lips, gently lifting her off of the dresser and towards the bed as any thoughts of their children or upcoming plans vanished.
"Are you nervous or are you mad?" Bryce questioned, lying on the comforter of the hotel room. In between his ear and his shoulder he balanced his cell phone, absently watching a Missouri-Kentucky second round game on television.
Claire sighed, "Why would I be mad?"
"Because you're going home and instead of having your mother all to yourself, you have to share her with someone you don't even know."
"I'm not angry," she insisted as he heard her going about her packing. In a short while Claire would be leaving Stanford for Spring Break, hoping to arrive in Trinidad early Saturday morning. Meanwhile later the next day Bryce, along with his Cardinal teammates, would be playing Brigham Young in the second round of the NCAA tournament. "I mean, she's just going to be staying at the house, I'm sure she'll be spending most of her time with her dad, right?"
"Probably," he agreed.
"She seems nice enough. Anyway, her mom just died a few months ago, so I'm going to try really hard to be extra nice to her."
"Just because her mom died?"
"Well, that and because I think it would mean a lot to my mom if all of us got along."
"So you'll be meeting her before your mom does?"
"Basically. Michael's supposed to pick her up from the airport tomorrow afternoon and drop her off at the house. It'll be up to me to entertain her until they get home later in the evening."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," she sighed and sat down on her bed. "I'm going to let her have my room. I'll sleep on the roll out sofa, I don't mind. Maybe I can show her the pier or the beach or something. I mean she's been living in Arizona, and that's a landlocked state . . . But she is from Los Angeles, so it's not like she hasn't seen a beach . . ." Claire trailed off in dismay.
"Maybe she'll want to sleep or watch television."
"I can hope," she sighed.
"I'm proud of you kid."
"For what?" Claire smiled, getting comfortable on her bed as Laura entered.
"For giving him a chance. I know it can't be easy on you, but you're trying really hard. Who knows, maybe you'll really like Alexandra and it'll make it easier for you to like Mr. Vaughn too."
"I'm giving him a chance on blind faith here. If he hurts her . . . "
"I know, I know, there'll be hell to pay."
"There will be," she huffed. "I really don't want him to hurt her though. I'm not crazy about the idea of a stepfather, but I want her happy."
"He seems decent enough."
"Being a Mets fan doesn't necessarily make you a nice person."
"It should," he huffed.
"I like the Yankees."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you and your thing for Posada Jr."
"He's cute!" she insisted.
"Sure, sure, sure," he teased.
"I have to go Bryce," she realized regretfully. "I'll call you tomorrow?"
"You better kid. Drive safely."
"I will. Get some sleep," she urged as they hung up.
"Ready?" Laura asked, smiling in her friend's direction.
"Hope so," Claire grinned. "What are you doing?"
"I'm flying out tonight."
"Where are you going?" she questioned, unable to remember.
"Cozumel," she grinned. "I'm so excited. This is the first trip I've ever taken without my family."
"Be careful," she advised.
"I will be, and I won't be alone either, so I'll be fine," Laura promised as they hugged. "Drive safely."
"Thanks," she grinned. "You'll call me, or at least send me a post card?"
"I will, and I'll take a picture of every cute guy so you don't miss out."
Claire laughed and grabbed her duffel. "Thanks. Have fun, and get a tan for me?"
"I'll try," her roommate promised as she disappeared out of the dormitory room.
When Claire arrived in Trinidad, the sun had barely risen over the city yet her house was empty, sans their pets. Understandably her mother had office hours, and after his morning lecture Michael was heading to the airport to pick up Alex. Instead Gehrig and the cats were enthusiastic to greet her, along with a lengthy note from her mother. As excited as she was to see her mother after another lengthy separation, Claire was more than happy for the time at home. With a few hours until Alex's scheduled arrival, she stayed busy picking up her room for her guest and doing her laundry. By the time the BYU-Stanford game started on ESPN, everything was ready and she collapsed onto the family room sofa to watch.
Aware of the time of Alex's flight and the time it took to drive home from the airport, Sydney had advised in her note that Alex would likely be arriving around two thirty or three in the afternoon. That worked out perfectly for Claire, who was able to watch the entire basketball game, a victory that sent Stanford to the NCAA Sweet Sixteen. By the time Vaughn's car pulled into the driveway, around a quarter after three in the afternoon, Claire was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper.
"Hey Claire," Michael smiled as he walked into the kitchen, carrying Alex's duffel. Understandably studying her surroundings, his daughter remained a few steps behind, slower to enter the home. "How was the drive?"
"Pretty good," she smiled and nodded as the other young woman entered.
"Claire, this is Alexandra. Alex, this is Claire," he introduced.
The only comfort was that Alex looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. Bravely Claire smiled at the stranger, "Hi."
"Hi," she nodded.
"Sorry, I have to get going or I'll be late," Vaughn realized. "Claire, your mother is supposed to be home around five thirty, I should get back around six," he explained, dropping a kiss on the top of his daughter's head. "You'll be fine - Claire doesn't bite," he assured her. "Be good," he called to the young woman as he left.
"How was your flight?" Claire asked as Gehrig licked the new woman before retreating to his bed.
"Okay," she nodded.
"Do you want something to drink?" she stood and offered.
"No thanks," she smiled slightly, hugging herself as she shook her head.
"Well . . ." Claire looked desperately around the kitchen. "I could show you to where you'll be staying. I thought you might want to stay in my room. I mean, that way you can just be alone if you want. I know it still has all my stuff, but it's clean and it's a lot more private."
"Sure," Alex agreed, picking up her duffel.
"Okay," Claire nodded. Then she began to lead the other woman through the house, pointing out the downstairs bathroom and the master bedroom as they passed. "This is my room," she explained, opening the door as the end of the small alcove. The room wasn't as large as her one in Arizona, but it had obviously been cleaned and the bed made. "I know it's not much, but like I said, it might be nicer than the roll out."
"It's great," she smiled and set her duffel on the bed. "Thanks."
"Here," she walked her over to the corner dresser. "The three drawers are empty. You can use them while your here, if you want."
"Thanks," she spoke and looked around. "So, when do you go back to school?"
"I just started break. I go back the twenty ninth."
"Stanford, right?"
Claire smiled, "Right."
"Cool," she commented.
"Do you want to do something? Do you have to do laundry? Or we've got food if you're hungry . . . There's a shower, or my mom's bathroom has a big tub if you want."
"Actually," Alex's green eyes finally looked back at her. "I've sort of been sitting on a plane all day. Is there any place to go walking? Like a trail or something."
"We've got a pier."
"A pier would work," she shrugged.
"Okay. Um . . . You might want to take a sweatshirt, it gets kind of chilly down there."
"Sure," she agreed, wrestling through her clothing before she pulled out a large sweatshirt with ARIZONA emblazed on it. "Is the Jeep in the driveway yours?"
"Yep. I'll take you to the pier, and I'll leave you alone then if you want."
"Nah, it's okay," she assured as they left the house.
A little while later they strolled over the calm waters, their sneakers the only sound on the wooden planks. The only noise during the car ride had been Claire asking Alex if the Joni Mitchell CD was okay for the short drive. "This is nice," Alex commented as Claire smiled.
"I love it here. So does my mom."
Alex nodded, "She teaches at Humboldt too, right?"
"She's a professor of English. Everyone says she's going to be named the Chair of the Department at the end of the school year," she eagerly replied.
"Why didn't you go there?"
"They didn't have a field hockey team," Claire chuckled with a shrug. "Plus . . . Everyone there knows me, which is good and bad. I mean, I didn't want to be known *just* as Sydney Bristow's daughter. Everyone there loves my mom too - which is great, because I *obviously* think she's great," she explained. "I just . . . I needed to do something different. So now I'm far enough away that I'm on my own, but close enough that I can get home relatively easily . . ." she trailed off. "Sorry," she whispered.
"Why?" Alex questioned, baffled by her apology.
"Me . . . Going on about my mom like that . . . "
"Oh," Alex sighed. "It's okay. I don't mind."
"Are you okay?" she cautiously asked.
"Sometimes," she shrugged, a half smile on her face. "Sometimes I think taking the leave of absence was a good idea, because at first I had days when I didn't even want to get out of bed . . . Then sometimes I think it was *so* stupid. If I was in school, then I'd *have* to get out of bed, I'd have something else to think about . . . But I get to be with my family. I think mom thought if I stayed in school, I'd just have Matt and I'd feel all alone. I mean, I love Matt, he's a really great guy and I know he'll help me out with whatever I need . . . But I haven't even really known him all that long. Only a few years, really. I've always sort of known him, but for a long time he was just my mom's friend who I saw everyone once in awhile, the guy who sent the really cool Christmas cards . . . That was all," she explained.
"What was she like?" Claire whispered. "If you don't mind me asking," she hurried to add.
"No," she smiled. "I mean . . As long as you don't mind if I cry a little," she chuckled as her companion shook her head. "I don't remember a lot of the funeral . . . I tried to remember, but I really don't. I *do* remember they played Carole King. A few of the songs - she just loved them . . . She had really weird makeup habits," she chuckled, studying her feet as she walked. "She always applied her makeup at the kitchen table, *always* - and sometimes she even did it in her bathrobe," she remembered.
Next to her Claire smiled as she silently waited for her to continue. "She always went outside to the deck to do her eyebrows too. Apparently her mom did, and natural sunlight is the best way to do it or something," she shrugged. "Mom *loved* shoes. She had so many types, styles and materials and colors . . . And she had to have worn all of them at least a dozen times. Most people build an outfit around a dress, but my mom usually built her wardrobe around her shoes," Alex sniffled, wiping away a budding tear. "Charles Schultz was the reason she wanted to be an illustrator. She *loved* Charlie Brown, she even had all of his animated television specials on tape. If I'd been a boy, she was going to name me Charles after him," she remembered. "Sometimes she'd make public appearances or speeches and she'd take me. We'd always drive too, sometimes for hours . . . " she briefly paused, the smile growing on her face and even in her wet eyes. "We'd sing Carole King's version of the theme song from Gilmore Girls - you know the one?"
Claire nodded, "I've seen Gilmore Girls on TV Land."
"Yeah," Alex smiled at her. "Me too. We'd sing that song all the time in the car. She just *loved* Carole King, and Elton John, and Fleetwood Mac - all these bands from the 1970's and 1980's, and of course now I like them . . . " she trailed off, wiping away her tears.
"She sounds like she was really great."
"She was," she sniffled, a smile on her raw features.
"I can't imagine doing through that," Claire softly confessed. "I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how hard that must be . . ."
Alex curiously glanced over at her and inquired, "Your dad?"
Sighing, she leaned against the rail of the pier. "I think about him sometimes, but I don't think that counts as missing him . . . I never really knew him. I do wonder about him sometimes," she conceded, sharing with this stranger something she'd never divulged to anyone else. "I know it'll never happen, but I imagine that my Dad would come back . . . He left when I was a baby, and he was a really bad alcoholic. A horrible person . . . Sometimes I imagine he comes back though. That he's clean and that all he wants in life is to know me, to be this really great father . . . To take me to Kings games and ask me about school and question any boy I like . . . In my mind, he's just like my Uncle Will," she confessed. "So, I mean, I never knew my birth dad . . . I have a few pictures of me with him, but I don't really look at them. I can't really say I miss him, because I never knew him, but I've always had my Uncle Will."
"I'm sorry you never knew him."
"Nah," she dismissed. "Your mom sounds like she was a great person, and I used to read her cartoon strip, she was great. My father wasn't like that. Plus, I mean I've always had my Uncle Will. Anything I ever needed from a father, he gave me. He even came up every year of high school for the father/daughter dance, and came up for my prom and a few weeks later for my graduation."
"Is he your mom's brother?"
"No," she shook her head. "Uncle Will is my mom's best friend in the world. They've known each other since college . . . They've been through a *lot* together. He's my godfather too . . . I can't imagine losing him or my mom . . ."
"My mom was sick," Alex explained, wiping away the remnants of her walk down memory lane. "She was in so much pain . . . Everyone say's she's in a better place, that she's no longer suffering . . . But that doesn't help," she sighed. "I don't know how people expect me to believe it's a better place if it took her away from the people she loved . . . I'm still mad at her," she whispered against the wind. "Part of me is still *so* mad that she left, that she gave up . . . No matter how much my head says that she didn't give up, she didn't have a choice . . . Part me of me can't help it," she confessed. "I just keep *hoping* and *praying* that one day I won't be angry anymore, that thinking about her won't make me cry . . . "
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to be a doctor, eventually," Alex shrugged. "I don't know. Part of me wants to go back to Arizona. It *is* the house that my mom and I lived in for awhile, and I know Matt would like it, but part of me . . . I don't know what to do. I mean, I know I'm almost a legal adult, twenty-one and all of that, but part me . . . I'm nineteen years old, I still sort of feel like my place in life is supposed to be where my mom is, or at least not too far from her."
"What do you think she'd want you to do?"
"Be happy," she chuckled. "If I can ever figure out how again."
Claire looked at her new friend in awe. The worse loss she'd ever suffered in her life was her Uncle Rick's sudden death. He hadn't suffered, and she couldn't imagine all that Alex had gone though. Rick had been fine, no one had ever had to see him suffer. As heavy as her regret of never having a true goodbye felt, she knew in that moment having to helplessly watch someone you love slowly deteriorate had to be far more painful.
"I hope you find it soon."
"Yeah," Alex tossed her a half smile. "Me too."
The engine died as Claire effortlessly turned the key. In front of them the two cars, evidence of their parent's presence, sat in the driveway. Cautiously she pulled the key out of the ignition and turned towards her newly found friend. "Are you ready for this?"
"She sounds really nice," Alex spoke, her voice distant as her eyes seemed fixated on an invisible object in front of her. "I mean . . . I know she's really nice. Everyone's said it, my dad, you . . . even my mom . . . "
"Your mom said my mom was nice?"
"Yeah," Alex chuckled and looked over at Claire. "Weird, huh?"
"A little," she hesitantly admitted. "My mom doesn't get nervous very easily . . . She's a really strong person. . . So strong, I envy her," Claire admitted. "I know this probably doesn't make it any easier, but I know how anxious she is about meeting you. I know she really wants you to like her."
"I promised my mom I would try," she explained, forcing a smile. "So I'm really going to try."
"I didn't want to meet your dad," she added. "I was mean to him when I first met him . . . I've had my mom all to myself for most of my life, and I really didn't like sharing that. I still don't."
"I hated sharing my mom with Matt. I did like him, sometimes . . . Most of the time," Alex sighed. "He took care of her and made her happy, but there were times where I felt like it would have been easier for them if I wasn't around . . . There were times when I just wanted her to myself, or for her to stop paying so much attention to him and pay attention to me . . . Sometimes it was just so damn hard to see her with someone other than my father."
"I'm sorry," Claire blurted.
"No," Alex quickly dismissed. "Don't be. It's certainly not your fault they got divorced . . . Not even your mother's fault . . . Sometimes people just get divorced. It sucks and it breaks your heart, but there's nothing anyone can do about it."
"Do you think about it a lot?"
"Probably more than I should . . . Right before mom married Matt, after they got engaged, I was obsessed with it. Even before they were officially engaged . . . Everyone knew what was coming. I have this entire journal that goes on and on about how unfair it is . . . And I still think it's unfair, but I don't think there's anything anyone could have done to change what happened."
"That doesn't make it any easier to deal with."
"It doesn't," she agreed. Sucking in deeply, she turned towards Claire and tried to smile, "I think I'm ready though."
"Okay," she smiled as they slowly got out of the Jeep. Without a word the brunette led her through the back gate and into the yard as Gehrig began to boisterously bark from inside the confines of his kitchen. "His bark is so worse than his bite," Claire assured her, hoping to relieve the tension.
"He's too small for anything else," Alex chuckled as they climbed the aging concrete steps. "A key?" she spoke as the other woman went to open the door.
"Oh. We usually don't lock the door, especially if mom is home," she explained. Then she opened the door and allowed them into the house. "Mom, Michael, we're home!" she called into the empty room as Gehrig rushed by them to the backyard.
"Hey, where'd you two go?" Vaughn smiled, striding easily into the kitchen.
"Claire took me to the pier. It's really nice there," Alex explained, shrugging off her coat.
"Oh," he grinned in surprise in Claire's direction. "That was really nice of you. Did you two have a nice time?"
"It was fine," Claire shrugged.
Alex spoke softly, "Where's Sydney?"
Vaughn turned his eyes to his daughter and smiled softly, "she'll be right down sweetheart," he explained. "We ordered dinner - pizza. I hope that's okay with you two."
"As long as it doesn't have mushrooms or anchovies, I'll eat it," Claire assured him, reaching for something to drink from the refrigerator and offering something to Alex as well.
"We made sure that there aren't any inappropriate toppings," Vaughn assured her. Instinctively he picked up on the sound of Sydney's bare feet approaching as he glanced over his shoulder, offering Alex his strength with a smile as he met her uncertain eyes.
"Hi," Sydney greeted as Claire sat down at the table and silently smiled at her mother.
"Alex," Vaughn gently placed his hand on his daughter's elbow as they turned to look at Sydney. "This is Sydney Bristow. Syd, this is my daughter, Alexandra."
Near silence, the only sound Zelda's soft purring from Claire's lap, swaddled the room. It only lasted a moment, perhaps two, but Vaughn was left to bask in the magnitude. After all the road bumps and errors along the way, he still somehow managed to stand in the same room with three women he was certain had to be the most beautiful and amazing in the world. The three women who meant everything to him - a category Claire had unknowingly wielded herself into, and would forever remain, whether she wanted the title or not.
"It's nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you," Sydney smiled and shook the younger woman's hand.
"Thank you," Alex replied, her voice slightly cracking. "Dad's said a lot about you too," she added. "You have a really nice house."
"Thank you," she nodded. "I hope your flight was okay."
"For the most part," Alex rolled her eyes. "Airplane food sucks."
"Yes," Sydney laughed. "I remember. It does," she agreed. Standing by Sydney's side, Vaughn looked over Alex's shoulder and smiled at Claire, relieved when she reluctantly returned the gesture.
"Do you travel a lot?"
"I used to," she answered. "For work, when I was younger. Claire and I go to Los Angeles and Seattle once a year during the holidays, but that's about it now."
"Did you always live in L.A.?"
"We moved when I was . . . three," Sydney recalled. "I was born in West Virginia."
"I've never been further east than Illinois," Alex shrugged.
The four sat down around the kitchen table as Vaughn spoke up, "Did you get to look at those colleges?"
"Yeah. I wasn't too happy with the college in Lake Forest, but DePaul and U of Chicago are nice."
"I set up a tour of the Humboldt campus for you if you're interested. I arranged it so you could take your dad too, if you'd like," she added.
"Haven't you taught there for like twenty years?" Alex asked, the lines of confusion etched across her forehead.
"Well, yes," she answered, briefly meeting Vaughn's eyes. "Nineteen, actually."
"Then why don't you give me the tour?" she suggested. "I mean, no offense dad, but you've been here what, a day? If I'm going to go to school here, I'm going to live there, so I'd like the person who shows me the campus to actually know it better than I do."
"She's got a point," Claire muttered.
"You want *me* to show you the campus?" Sydney questioned.
"Sure," she shrugged. "How big can it really be? I mean, if you've got the time."
"Of course," she quickly assured her. "I mean . . . If your dad doesn't mind."
"No," Vaughn shook his head, fighting back too big of a smile. "That's fine sweetheart, if it's what you want."
"Tomorrow, maybe?" Alex turned to Sydney.
"That'd be fine," the older woman nodded, still battling with her obvious surprise. "If you like the school, I have some friends in admissions who can talk to you about transferring. They could help you transfer wherever you want, even if it's not Humboldt," she offered.
"I have a counselor back at Arizona . . . I should probably e-mail him soon . . . " she remembered. "Did you go to Stanford too?" Alex looked at her father's girlfriend, remembering that it was Claire's college.
"No. UCLA, undergrad and graduate."
"That's a nice campus," Alex commented.
"At the time I was just happy to be out of my house . . . Did you live on campus at Arizona?"
"No, I lived at home," she answered.
"Dorms are great," Claire spoke up. Skeptically the young blonde woman looked at her. "Okay," she sighed. "They're not really great, but they do allow a whole new look at the world," she smirked.
"I would hate having a roommate."
"They're not too bad," Claire insisted. "I love Laura . . . It's weird sometimes, basically sharing your life with this total stranger, but it helps you learn cooperation, compromise and communication."
Taking a sip of his soda, Vaughn murmured, "Sounds like something from the university handbook."
"It is, actually," the young brunette chuckled. "Dorms are scary, but I'm having a lot of fun."
"Frosh, right?" Alex questioned.
Claire's nose wrinkled in disgust, "I hate that word."
"You won't as soon as it doesn't apply to you," the blonde laughed. "The first year only lasts one year. That's it, then it's over and you're free to torture the next class of unsuspecting newbies."
"I don't think I will," she dismissed. "I don't have enough interest or time to bother annoying other people. Well, other than Bryce," she added as an afterthought.
"Who's he?"
"Just a guy . . . Okay, well, he's more than just a guy - he's sort of my boyfriend . . ." she muttered the confession, her cheek's burning. Quickly she continued, "He's from school. We've known each other for about . . . six months now," she explained, smiling brightly at Alex. "He's cute."
"Hot cute or goofy cute?"
"Hot cute," she immediately replied, the color rising higher on her cheeks. For a moment memories of a long ago conversation flashed in Sydney's mind, the red of the restaurant walls matching the single red rose that Francie had carefully placed on every table, and the look of surprise when she confessed to having a crush on a coworker. Out of the corner of her eye she looked at the man at her side, surprised that he was there again, perhaps exactly where they each belonged, after everyone else had considered it impossible. Vaughn noticed her gaze and effortlessly captured her eyes, holding her brown eyes with his and smiled.
"Do you have a picture?" Alex questioned.
"Bryce seems like a nice guy, but I really don't need or want to hear this conversation," Vaughn teased, slowly standing up as Sydney laughed.
"Not every Mets fan is a nice person," Claire tossed casually in Vaughn's direction.
Alex looked up, the thought of an unkind Mets fan foreign to her. "You don't like the Mets?"
"Yankees," Claire and Sydney answered in unison. As he stood, he looked down at Sydney and rolled his green eyes as he connected directly with her brown.
"Anyway, I don't think I have any pictures of Bryce with me, but there are some on the Cardinals website," Claire began, returning to the original conversation.
"He plays sports?"
"Basketball," Claire proudly gushed. "He's good too. Very good."
"Show me later?" Alex requested as Vaughn rolled his eyes subtlety at Sydney.
"I think dinner's here," Sydney noted as they heard a car pull into the driveway.
"I'll get plates and napkins," Claire declared as she stood.
Instantly the blonde woman joined her, "I'll help," she offered, taking Claire's direction as Vaughn and Sydney went to get the pizza.
"Vaughn . . . If you want to show Alex around Humboldt instead -"
"Syd," he cut her off, quietly handing the delivery boy his money and taking the pizza. "I think it's great," he answered honestly. "I think she likes you."
"I hope so," she sighed softly, an uncertainty she hadn't felt in decades creeping over her.
"I know so," he gently caught her hand. "Trust me," he leaned over to briefly kiss her.
"Don't promise me happily ever after Vaughn," Sydney softly warned, her eyes serious as the kiss broke.
"I'm not going to start making promises I can't keep now Syd. Not this late in the game."
Even in the dim light of the porch, he watched her head bob before she met his eyes and granted him a small smile. "Good," she agreed. "The pizza's getting cold," she noted, her smile turning into a silly grin.
"Let's go," he smiled as he led her back into the house.
The house was eerily quiet when Claire woke up the next morning. After she tossed the quilt aside, she slid her feet into her slippers. As she peered out the French doors, she saw that Gehrig was quietly making his way around the yard, enjoying himself immensely under the uncharacteristically warm March sun. She grabbed her sweatshirt off of the back of the sofa to protect her from the morning chill that often blanketed the home, and started towards the kitchen.
To her disappointment, she walked into the room to find only Michael. He'd obviously been up for sometime, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, reading the sports section. At the sound of her footsteps, he glanced up and smiled at her, just a twinge of awkwardness to validate the slight unease she felt. "Hey," she greeted casually, grabbing a glass and pouring herself some orange juice. "Where's my mom?"
"She took Alex for a tour of the campus. They should be back around lunch," he explained as she slid into her normal place at the end of the table.
"Oh," Claire sighed. "What about you?"
"Nothing today," he smiled pleasantly at her. "How'd you sleep?"
"Okay," she shrugged. Reaching over, she took another section of the paper, and struggled to read it as he made his way effortlessly through the sports section. Finally, she tossed the paper aside, causing Vaughn to look up in concern. "How do you know about my grandmother?"
Vaughn sighed, unable to look at her and slowly put down his paper. "Claire . . . "
"Don't patronize me. I want to know."
"Your mother really should be the one -"
"She won't tell me! She'll never tell me!"
"It doesn't matter," he insisted, finally meeting her eyes, stating his conviction. "She's your grandmother Claire . . . It doesn't matter how I know about her. It shouldn't matter . . . All that matters is for all of your life . . . " he paused, struggling to state what he knew to be the truth. "For all of your life, she's been a . . . She's been a good grandmother Claire. She loves you and loves your mother . . . You're a very lucky young woman. You have a family that is small but would do *anything* for you . . . That makes you luckier than so many people at your age," he explained, mentally adding that Claire had fared better at eighteen than her mother had. Your grandparents and mother love you very much, that will always be there for you . . . What I do or don't know, how I know about your grandmother, is irrelevant."
"Why won't you just tell me?"
Vaughn sighed, "Because I can't," he explained. "For various reasons . . . The most important being that it's your mother's decision. You have to realize that your mother would never make a decision like that unless she felt it was in your best interest. Your grandmother is a good grandmother and she was . . . She *is* a good mother," he admitted, although the words left a slightly metallic taste on his tongue.
"I know it's difficult to imagine that parents and grandparents had lives before yours started . . . But they did, and in a lot of ways it doesn't matter who they were or what they did. One thing I've learned Claire, is that it doesn't matter . . . When a person is gone, when a relationship has to end because of death . . . " he paused, taking a deep breath and paused to consider his thoughts. Visions of the painful days after Sydney's apparent death still burned in his soul as he struggled to implant a lesson in Claire that had taken him nearly half a lifetime to learn. "When a person is gone, it doesn't matter what the rest of the world saw in them . . . It doesn't matter what the rest of the world thought of them or anything beyond your relationship with them. All that matters Claire, all that *should* matter to you, is the relationship you have with your grandmother. No one lives forever Claire, no matter how much we love them, so we can only love them as best we can and focus on what they give back to us, not how they interact with the rest of the world."
"You really loved her, didn't you?" Claire whispered, her brown eyes wide. At his confused expression, the teenager clarified. "My mother. You were nuts about her, weren't you?"
"It nearly killed me," he whispered, his eyes pained and obviously far away in a distant memory. "And the crazy thing is that I still love her that way," he added. "No matter how much I convinced myself I'd moved past it . . . That it was only just a memory . . . All I have to do is look or even *think* about your mother, and it's still as real as it ever was."
"I want to love someone like that," she whispered, her brown eyes drawn to the top of the kitchen table.
"I hope you do," Vaughn sincerely spoke. "And I hope that if you do, you never lose it until you're too old to realize it."
"Me too," she smiled briefly at him. "So, what are your plans today?" she inquired, the subject effectively shut as she stood and searched for breakfast.
"Oregon."
"Excuse me?" Claire paused to look at him over her shoulder.
"There's a rink just over the state line in Oregon. An ice rink. I'm going to teach you to ice skate and play ice hockey."
"Oregon? What about my mother?"
Vaughn chuckled, "She knows."
"Oregon . . . That's a long drive . . . "
"Two hours, give or take," he shrugged. "It'll be fun Claire. I'll even let you pick the music we listen to."
Sighing, she turned to fully look at him, "Why?"
"Just because," he shrugged. Because he'd always love Sydney Bristow, and because she was Claire Bristow, a perfect extension of the woman he loved. Perhaps she'd never be his, there was a chance that Claire would never truly regard him as anything more than something on the sole of her shoe, much the same approach that Jack Bristow would likely feel towards him forever, but he couldn't imagine loving her as though she was anything short of his own flesh and blood daughter.
Claire sighed with frustration and started out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?" he called.
"I have to find a sweater!" she rolled her eyes in his direction, causing him to laugh as she charged impatiently up the stairs.
A short distance away, Alex walked along the well kept grounds of Humboldt State with Sydney. More than once during their morning walk they'd been stopped, making it obvious that Professor Bristow was equally popular with her students and colleagues. To each and every person who'd approached them, Sydney had introduced Alex with just a hint of pride in her voice, explaining that the young woman was considering a transfer to the college. Everyone had wished Alex luck, leaving her in awe of the friendly group of people.
"It really is beautiful here," Alex finally spoke. They'd walked by and through several academic and main campus buildings as Sydney answered her various questions to the best she could. Cars were allowed on campus, although she noted that most students seemed to ride a bike, walk and even a few appeared to be rollerblading through campus.
"I'd only seen photos when I first moved here, but it's even more beautiful now," she agreed. "I think Professor McKeon was impressed when you spoke with him."
"He seemed really nice," she nodded, remembering her recent conversation with the head of the college's biology department.
"If you are interested in medical school, he'd be a fantastic person to talk to. He completed medical school and two years of a surgical residency before he went on to get his masters and PhD in biology," Sydney explained.
"Where'd he go?"
"UCLA Medical, I think," she answered. "I'm not positive though. I'm sure he'd be happy to answer any questions you might have, regardless of where you end up. Lainie is an admissions counselor, she wasn't there today but we've been friends for awhile . . . She worked at several universities before she decided to work here until she retired. I'm sure she'd be happy to help you work out a transfer if that's what you decide. Even if it's not at Humboldt, since she's familiar with a lot of the policies."
"I probably should . . . To insure that my credits will transfer and that I won't have to worry about being behind . . . " Alex sighed, looking around the campus. "I like college," she confessed. "I like *this* college too," she added.
Sydney nodded, their pace steadily slowing as she gently prodded, "But?"
"I can't imagine graduating college . . . I swear, it seems like it was just yesterday when I was a freshman in high school and I thought graduating high school was light years away . . . I guess I just can't imagine graduating college without my mom being there," she confessed and looked to Sydney.
"I understand," she smiled briefly and looked down at her feet. After a few steps Sydney looked straight ahead and explained, "My mother never saw me graduate either . . . Well, except from kindergarten."
"She didn't?"
"No," Sydney sighed and shook her head. "I lost her when I was six . . . It was the November after I started first grade. I remember it was so hard because she was there for the class Halloween party - she'd baked and sewn my costume and then . . . just a few weeks later, for Thanksgiving, she was just . . . gone . . ."
"I didn't know," Alex spoke softly.
"There's no way you could have," she assured her with a slight smile. "My father . . . Your father's trying, very hard, to make this easier for you . . . Something my father was never able to do," she added. In fact, in a situation eerily similar to what Vaughn had experienced after her own apparent death, her father had been seemingly incapacitated with grief for the first six months following Laura Bristow's "death". For the first time in her life she noticed the similarities, wishing that she'd noticed the obvious years before and reconciled herself that if Jack could still love Irina after all the betrayals and years of resentment, Vaughn surely must have loved her, even when he was with Kate. He'd loved Kate, he'd promised her his life and had lived up to that promise as best he could, but when it came down to it, Sydney owned his heart and soul and likely always would.
"How did you do it?"
"One day at a time," she tossed her a half smile and a shrug. "That's the only way you can do anything . . . It's difficult, when all of your friends have mothers . . . There's no easy way to explain it, and no matter how old you get, the looks of pity are always there . . . There are always people who love you, people who want to help . . . Even people in your life who will step in to the role of a mother when you need it," Sydney explained, her mind drawing back to the late Emily Sloane and how desperately she'd loved Emily, the only mother she'd known for so much of her life. Nearly all of the qualities she'd wanted to be as a mother primarily came from what she'd learned from Emily. "No one will ever be your mother Alex, no one should ever even try . . . I promise I will never try to take that role either," she softly vowed as the women stopped to face each other. "If you need to talk . . . If you need a place to stay . . . I'll help you in whatever way I can, but I will *never* try to take the place of your mother. No one should ever try to disrespect your mother's memory by doing that."
"I know," she blinked away brief tears. "Thank you Sydney."
"Your welcome," she smiled sincerely at the younger woman. "Are you hungry?"
"I was too nervous to eat this morning," Alex admitted.
"Let's go get something to eat," she offered with a smile.
"That sounds great," she smiled as they leisurely walked along the campus, back to the parking lot in destination of an early lunch.
Dinner wasn't until late in the evening, after Claire and Vaughn returned from their impromptu trip north. Claire all but bounced into the house, anticipating relaying every little detail of her journey on the ice to her mother. Judging by the softness in Vaughn's eyes and the excited color on his cheeks, his attempt to strike a common ground with Claire had been more successful than he'd dared to hope. Afterwards Alex shared her campus tales with Claire, and the Trinidad native shared stories of various students and college employees that she could recall from over the years. When their parents walked in to the family room to ask about dinner, they were surprised at the comfortable sight. Claire sat on the floor in front of the television, playing Zelda while Alex sat on the sofa, writing a letter to her cousin. A relatively simple sight, Sydney struggled not to be alarmed at how comfortable and happy the situation left her as he had reached over to squeeze her hand, understanding instinctively how she felt.
"Who was on the phone?" Sydney asked late that night, raising her head from the bubbles. After a long day and a dinner with a few awkward pauses, the girls had gone out. Claire was going to a friend's house and had invited Alex along. Not interested in being home alone with her father and his new girlfriend, she had taken the offer. With the two girl's gone, Vaughn had excused himself to work on his lecture while she soaked in a much deserved bubble bath.
"Alex," he smiled and slowly lowered his body to the floor next to the tub. Sydney smiled as she rested her head against the padded side of the sofa. "She said they'll be home later. I guess Jake went out for pizza and they're going to stay some longer and play some air hockey or pool."
"They're safe there," she promised. Vaughn's green eyes remained on her as she sank lower into the tub, the bubbles right under her earlobes. Even with the bubbles surrounding her, he could sense her relaxing, her body melting in the warm tub. Though the excitement in her eyes over meeting Alex was legitimate, he had seen and understood her anxiety. To his delight, his daughter seemed to like Sydney, the two talking more easily over dinner than they had the previous evening. The transition would take time, for all four of them, but there wasn't a doubt in his soul that it would happen.
"I love you," he spoke softly.
Sydney looked up, her face straight and her expression sincere. "I love you too," she spoke, holding her hand out to him. Uncaring that her hand was wet, he took it in both of his and kissed it. As his lips grazed her skin, a tiny smile fluttered over her face as she rested her head back against the tub.
Watching her, half awake in the warm bath water, he loved her more than ever. He loved that there was no giddiness in her statement. All that was there in her words was a sincere statement of fact. The rest of the world would progress, with and eventually without them; their lives would always go on, but her love for him and his love for her would forever remain the same.
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.
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A roadtrip to Oregon was immediately on the docket for the Cardinal's after their USC win that weekend. Three and a half weeks later, on the last day of February Stanford celebrated Senior Day during its last home game of the season, a victory against Oregon. By then Sydney and Vaughn were back home, slowly growing accustomed to a routine that saw them spending more time together than apart. The ease to which she allowed herself to fall back into that life with him scared her. By her side on the sofa as they watched Kings games or sitting across from her half-awake brown eyes over breakfast, Vaughn allowed himself the pleasure of tucking her hand in his or soothing her with a gentle kiss. Nothing flashy or monumental by any means, just a silent reassurance that her fears were his fears but this time he wasn't going anywhere.
Just a little over two months past Kate's death, Vaughn found himself alone in his apartment on a Monday in March. Rarely was he even in the tiny residency they dubbed his faculty apartment, and it was even rarer for him to be alone. In truth he had no plans of even staying the night. However he was all but certain there were life forms now growing in his refrigerator, and Sydney had been invited out with Georgia and a few other friends. Well aware that he'd greedily monopolized her time since he arrived, he'd gladly given her his blessing to go enjoy a much deserved Girl's Night Out. In the meantime he was busy working on his next lecture when the phone in his apartment rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi Daddy."
"Alex," he smiled. Steadily the anguish was leaving her voice with only a halo of sorrow remaining. Matt continued to e-mail him a few times throughout the week to let him know how she was doing, and while he made it a priority to call her every other day, it was unusual for her to contact him. "How are you sweetheart?"
"Okay," she answered, releasing a soft sigh. "Can I come visit?"
"Sure!" he eagerly replied, leaning forward in his seat. "Of course you can sweetheart, you don't even have to ask. When would you like to come out?"
"I'm going to Lake Forest tomorrow. I'm supposed to land at O'Hare tomorrow afternoon. Matt was supposed to tell you."
"He did," Vaughn assured her.
"Anyway. I wanted to stay for a few weeks, since Lindsay and Mandie both have Spring Break this month, just different weeks."
"I'm glad you'll be able to spend some time with them," he commented.
"Me too," she agreed and he thought he might have even sensed a smile. "Anyway, I was hoping maybe I could come out on the twentieth, if that's okay?"
"That's fine honey. Spring Break here is the week before that, but I don't have to work every day, so we'll have time together."
"Good. I can't wait to see this place."
"Actually sweetheart . . ." he looked skeptically around his cramped space. "I was wondering if you'd like to stay at my friend's home. My place . . . until I get an apartment off campus, there's not much room. Obviously, if you want to stay here you can, we can work it out, but you might be more comfortable -"
"At Sydney's?" Alex finished for him, her voice playful.
Vaughn sighed, a slight grin on his face as he shook his head. "How did you know I was referring to Sydney?"
"I'm not blind, deaf *and* dumb Daddy," she explained. "If Sydney doesn't mind, I'll stay there."
"Okay, one second," he requested as he stood and walked over to his desk. "Actually, you'll be able to meet Claire too."
"Who's Claire?"
"Sydney's daughter. She's a freshman at Stanford. She's a nice girl, I think you'll like her."
"Will it be a problem? My staying there while her daughter's on Spring Break?"
"No, not at all. Actually it was Sydney's suggestion that you stay at her house. There's just more room for you that way."
"Okay."
"If it gets to be too much, you can always come here," Vaughn softly assured her.
"Please check with her though, please Daddy? I really don't want to be in the way."
"You won't be in the way honey," he promised. "It's really nice here. We're not too far from Oregon too, so maybe we could do a road trip. You've never been to Oregon, have you?"
"Does playing the Oregon Trail game count?"
"No," he chuckled. "We could go there if you want. We could do a lot of things. If you just want to relax that'd be great too."
"Calm down Dad," she urged. "You are going to show me this school of yours, right?"
"Of course sweetheart, I'll give you a personally guided tour of Humboldt."
"Good," she confirmed. "Actually, I'm going to look at a few schools in Chicago while I'm there, and Lake Forest has a college too. I don't think I want to go out there, but I mean if I do, at least Lindsay and Mandie will be there to help me out."
"Just look around sweetheart. Wherever you want to go is fine with me. You can always go back to Arizona."
"I know," she promised. "I'm going to go Dad. I still have to finish packing. I love you."
"I love you too honey. Have a good flight tomorrow, and please give me a call on the cell phone when you land."
"I will," she vowed. "Night Dad," Alex spoke and hung up.
The smile was wide on his face as Vaughn hung up the phone. As much as Kate had apparently urged Alex to consider going to HSU, he hadn't expected his daughter to make the effort. In fact he wasn't seriously expecting a visit until summer, no matter how much he wanted to see her. Alex was in an understandably difficult place - if she wanted to go visit her cousins or her friends in different states and away from him, he'd gladly support if it if helped her heal. Now she was coming to Trinidad, all aspects of his life were finally colliding together. Vaughn grabbed his keys off of the kitchen table, along with his briefcase, and headed out the door, eager to find Sydney.
"Syd!" he called as he walked into the house late that evening. Gehrig sniffed his ankles only briefly before whipping by him for the yard. The three cats, curled up with authority in Gehrig's doggie bed, only briefly opened their eyes before going back to sleep. Vaughn was no longer an intruder in their world, and his entrance no longer caused the commotion it once did. "Syd?" he called, hanging his keys on the keyholder in between Sydney's home keys and her work keys. If it wasn't for the large Kings keychain on her home keys, Vaughn knew he'd never be able to tell the difference between the two.
Shrugging off his coat, he walked over to the kitchen table and rested it there. To his confusion, he noticed a new roll of dark blue contact paper resting on the surface of the table, right in front of the vase of flowers he'd given her just a few days ago. Picking it up, he examined it as he heard footsteps. When he turned around, the sight that greeted him melted his heart and prompted his smile. Free of make up or jewelry, her feet bare, her jeans starting to obviously age at the knees and the baseball shirt one he swore she'd owned when he'd known her another lifetime ago. There was nothing more beautiful than a natural Sydney Bristow. Even without make up, when she smiled, she glowed.
"Hey," she smiled, brushing hair off of her face and leaning up to gently kiss him.
"Syd?" he motioned to the roll of contact paper he still held in his hand. "Is there a certain reason that you bought contact paper?"
"Actually," Sydney's grin grew. "There is," she assured him, the twinkle in her eye.
"Well?" he waited. Without a word, she took his hand and began to lead him through the kitchen and family room and up the stairs. "What are we doing Syd?"
"You'll see," she replied, still leading the way and the smile obvious in her tone. Opening the door to her bedroom, they entered as she dropped her hand and looked at him.
"What?" Vaughn looked around. "You want me to wallpaper your bedroom with contact paper?"
"No," she laughed. "I like my walls they way they are," she insisted. Instead she walked around the bed to what had quickly become his side of the bedroom and opened the closet door. Then she looked at him, finding his expression blank. "Come here," she urged. Within moments he was by her side as she clasped his hand and walked him into the closet. "That," she pointed to the unopened contact paper in his hands, "is for *that*," she nodded her head. In the back of the walk in closet was a four-drawer dresser. On the bare closet rod were at least two dozen white plastic hangers, obviously new. Finally Sydney met her eyes, her smile giddy and her eyes twinkling, "The closet's yours."
"Are you sure?" he replied.
Sydney laughed and nodded. "Yes. I was sure then and I'm sure now. I mean . . . Okay, your not living out of a backpack now, but the duffel's a little ridiculous too," she insisted, her dimples as wide as he could remember. "Well?" she asked as he surveyed the small walking space.
"You're a genius," he whispered, leaning in and capturing her lips.
"Maybe," she laughed in between kisses. "Mmhm," she regretfully pulled away, his eyes surprised as she smiled. "There's something else," she confessed. Bewildered, Vaughn allowed her to take his hand and lead him out of the closet. A knowing smile on her face, Sydney led him over to her dresser and dropped his hand.
"What are you doing?" he chuckled as she began to search her drawer.
Sydney briefly looked up in the mirror and smiled, "You'll see," she promised. As she began to rummage through her drawers, Vaughn's eyes drew back to their reflection, bouncing back at them off of the dresser mirror.
He took a half step forward, feeling her back brush up against his shirt as he slid his arms effortlessly around her waist. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. The grin on her face grew and her skin seemed to glow as she looked up at him before Sydney turned her attention back to her drawer. Seconds later he watched her pull open her jean drawer. As his eyes watched her search for some unknown object, he couldn't help but wonder if she had any lingerie. After fifteen years alone, he doubted that she'd even consider looking at such items. Not that he minded, he knew long ago that lingerie and tight clothes belonged to other men in a different world. The real Sydney, barefeet and worn denim, belonged only to him.
"Here it is!" Sydney spoke, a small box appearing out of the mass of denim. Squirming in his arms, she lifted herself to sit on the edge of the dark dresser and handed the box to him. "Here."
"You've never given me anything before," he spoke softly, one eyebrow lifting as she shrugged.
"Then it's about time . . . It's really not a gift," she quickly added. "Just open it."
Vaughn cracked a smile as he lifted the top off of the tiny cardboard box. The smile slowly disappeared as he looked up at her, "It's a key."
"It's a key to the back door," she answered, taking it from him and looking at it. "You almost gave me a key once . . . Vaughn, I don't know if I can ever really understand what drove you back into my life. I'm still not sure I completely understand what sent you into my life in the first place . . ." she trailed off, studying the key as he carefully watched her. "A drawer or even a closet isn't enough anymore," Sydney conceded. "It's just not. I want more than that . . . I think you do too," she softly added as he nodded, meeting her eyes. "I don't want you to find an apartment."
"You want to live together," he spoke, his lips curved slightly.
Sydney's eyes dropped, the hair blocking her face before she looked up and smiled, "I do."
"You really are a genius," he teased, leaning in to kiss her again.
Laughing between kisses, she agreed, "Probably," as he laughed. Once again he greedily captured her lips, gently lifting her off of the dresser and towards the bed as any thoughts of their children or upcoming plans vanished.
"Are you nervous or are you mad?" Bryce questioned, lying on the comforter of the hotel room. In between his ear and his shoulder he balanced his cell phone, absently watching a Missouri-Kentucky second round game on television.
Claire sighed, "Why would I be mad?"
"Because you're going home and instead of having your mother all to yourself, you have to share her with someone you don't even know."
"I'm not angry," she insisted as he heard her going about her packing. In a short while Claire would be leaving Stanford for Spring Break, hoping to arrive in Trinidad early Saturday morning. Meanwhile later the next day Bryce, along with his Cardinal teammates, would be playing Brigham Young in the second round of the NCAA tournament. "I mean, she's just going to be staying at the house, I'm sure she'll be spending most of her time with her dad, right?"
"Probably," he agreed.
"She seems nice enough. Anyway, her mom just died a few months ago, so I'm going to try really hard to be extra nice to her."
"Just because her mom died?"
"Well, that and because I think it would mean a lot to my mom if all of us got along."
"So you'll be meeting her before your mom does?"
"Basically. Michael's supposed to pick her up from the airport tomorrow afternoon and drop her off at the house. It'll be up to me to entertain her until they get home later in the evening."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," she sighed and sat down on her bed. "I'm going to let her have my room. I'll sleep on the roll out sofa, I don't mind. Maybe I can show her the pier or the beach or something. I mean she's been living in Arizona, and that's a landlocked state . . . But she is from Los Angeles, so it's not like she hasn't seen a beach . . ." Claire trailed off in dismay.
"Maybe she'll want to sleep or watch television."
"I can hope," she sighed.
"I'm proud of you kid."
"For what?" Claire smiled, getting comfortable on her bed as Laura entered.
"For giving him a chance. I know it can't be easy on you, but you're trying really hard. Who knows, maybe you'll really like Alexandra and it'll make it easier for you to like Mr. Vaughn too."
"I'm giving him a chance on blind faith here. If he hurts her . . . "
"I know, I know, there'll be hell to pay."
"There will be," she huffed. "I really don't want him to hurt her though. I'm not crazy about the idea of a stepfather, but I want her happy."
"He seems decent enough."
"Being a Mets fan doesn't necessarily make you a nice person."
"It should," he huffed.
"I like the Yankees."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you and your thing for Posada Jr."
"He's cute!" she insisted.
"Sure, sure, sure," he teased.
"I have to go Bryce," she realized regretfully. "I'll call you tomorrow?"
"You better kid. Drive safely."
"I will. Get some sleep," she urged as they hung up.
"Ready?" Laura asked, smiling in her friend's direction.
"Hope so," Claire grinned. "What are you doing?"
"I'm flying out tonight."
"Where are you going?" she questioned, unable to remember.
"Cozumel," she grinned. "I'm so excited. This is the first trip I've ever taken without my family."
"Be careful," she advised.
"I will be, and I won't be alone either, so I'll be fine," Laura promised as they hugged. "Drive safely."
"Thanks," she grinned. "You'll call me, or at least send me a post card?"
"I will, and I'll take a picture of every cute guy so you don't miss out."
Claire laughed and grabbed her duffel. "Thanks. Have fun, and get a tan for me?"
"I'll try," her roommate promised as she disappeared out of the dormitory room.
When Claire arrived in Trinidad, the sun had barely risen over the city yet her house was empty, sans their pets. Understandably her mother had office hours, and after his morning lecture Michael was heading to the airport to pick up Alex. Instead Gehrig and the cats were enthusiastic to greet her, along with a lengthy note from her mother. As excited as she was to see her mother after another lengthy separation, Claire was more than happy for the time at home. With a few hours until Alex's scheduled arrival, she stayed busy picking up her room for her guest and doing her laundry. By the time the BYU-Stanford game started on ESPN, everything was ready and she collapsed onto the family room sofa to watch.
Aware of the time of Alex's flight and the time it took to drive home from the airport, Sydney had advised in her note that Alex would likely be arriving around two thirty or three in the afternoon. That worked out perfectly for Claire, who was able to watch the entire basketball game, a victory that sent Stanford to the NCAA Sweet Sixteen. By the time Vaughn's car pulled into the driveway, around a quarter after three in the afternoon, Claire was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper.
"Hey Claire," Michael smiled as he walked into the kitchen, carrying Alex's duffel. Understandably studying her surroundings, his daughter remained a few steps behind, slower to enter the home. "How was the drive?"
"Pretty good," she smiled and nodded as the other young woman entered.
"Claire, this is Alexandra. Alex, this is Claire," he introduced.
The only comfort was that Alex looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. Bravely Claire smiled at the stranger, "Hi."
"Hi," she nodded.
"Sorry, I have to get going or I'll be late," Vaughn realized. "Claire, your mother is supposed to be home around five thirty, I should get back around six," he explained, dropping a kiss on the top of his daughter's head. "You'll be fine - Claire doesn't bite," he assured her. "Be good," he called to the young woman as he left.
"How was your flight?" Claire asked as Gehrig licked the new woman before retreating to his bed.
"Okay," she nodded.
"Do you want something to drink?" she stood and offered.
"No thanks," she smiled slightly, hugging herself as she shook her head.
"Well . . ." Claire looked desperately around the kitchen. "I could show you to where you'll be staying. I thought you might want to stay in my room. I mean, that way you can just be alone if you want. I know it still has all my stuff, but it's clean and it's a lot more private."
"Sure," Alex agreed, picking up her duffel.
"Okay," Claire nodded. Then she began to lead the other woman through the house, pointing out the downstairs bathroom and the master bedroom as they passed. "This is my room," she explained, opening the door as the end of the small alcove. The room wasn't as large as her one in Arizona, but it had obviously been cleaned and the bed made. "I know it's not much, but like I said, it might be nicer than the roll out."
"It's great," she smiled and set her duffel on the bed. "Thanks."
"Here," she walked her over to the corner dresser. "The three drawers are empty. You can use them while your here, if you want."
"Thanks," she spoke and looked around. "So, when do you go back to school?"
"I just started break. I go back the twenty ninth."
"Stanford, right?"
Claire smiled, "Right."
"Cool," she commented.
"Do you want to do something? Do you have to do laundry? Or we've got food if you're hungry . . . There's a shower, or my mom's bathroom has a big tub if you want."
"Actually," Alex's green eyes finally looked back at her. "I've sort of been sitting on a plane all day. Is there any place to go walking? Like a trail or something."
"We've got a pier."
"A pier would work," she shrugged.
"Okay. Um . . . You might want to take a sweatshirt, it gets kind of chilly down there."
"Sure," she agreed, wrestling through her clothing before she pulled out a large sweatshirt with ARIZONA emblazed on it. "Is the Jeep in the driveway yours?"
"Yep. I'll take you to the pier, and I'll leave you alone then if you want."
"Nah, it's okay," she assured as they left the house.
A little while later they strolled over the calm waters, their sneakers the only sound on the wooden planks. The only noise during the car ride had been Claire asking Alex if the Joni Mitchell CD was okay for the short drive. "This is nice," Alex commented as Claire smiled.
"I love it here. So does my mom."
Alex nodded, "She teaches at Humboldt too, right?"
"She's a professor of English. Everyone says she's going to be named the Chair of the Department at the end of the school year," she eagerly replied.
"Why didn't you go there?"
"They didn't have a field hockey team," Claire chuckled with a shrug. "Plus . . . Everyone there knows me, which is good and bad. I mean, I didn't want to be known *just* as Sydney Bristow's daughter. Everyone there loves my mom too - which is great, because I *obviously* think she's great," she explained. "I just . . . I needed to do something different. So now I'm far enough away that I'm on my own, but close enough that I can get home relatively easily . . ." she trailed off. "Sorry," she whispered.
"Why?" Alex questioned, baffled by her apology.
"Me . . . Going on about my mom like that . . . "
"Oh," Alex sighed. "It's okay. I don't mind."
"Are you okay?" she cautiously asked.
"Sometimes," she shrugged, a half smile on her face. "Sometimes I think taking the leave of absence was a good idea, because at first I had days when I didn't even want to get out of bed . . . Then sometimes I think it was *so* stupid. If I was in school, then I'd *have* to get out of bed, I'd have something else to think about . . . But I get to be with my family. I think mom thought if I stayed in school, I'd just have Matt and I'd feel all alone. I mean, I love Matt, he's a really great guy and I know he'll help me out with whatever I need . . . But I haven't even really known him all that long. Only a few years, really. I've always sort of known him, but for a long time he was just my mom's friend who I saw everyone once in awhile, the guy who sent the really cool Christmas cards . . . That was all," she explained.
"What was she like?" Claire whispered. "If you don't mind me asking," she hurried to add.
"No," she smiled. "I mean . . As long as you don't mind if I cry a little," she chuckled as her companion shook her head. "I don't remember a lot of the funeral . . . I tried to remember, but I really don't. I *do* remember they played Carole King. A few of the songs - she just loved them . . . She had really weird makeup habits," she chuckled, studying her feet as she walked. "She always applied her makeup at the kitchen table, *always* - and sometimes she even did it in her bathrobe," she remembered.
Next to her Claire smiled as she silently waited for her to continue. "She always went outside to the deck to do her eyebrows too. Apparently her mom did, and natural sunlight is the best way to do it or something," she shrugged. "Mom *loved* shoes. She had so many types, styles and materials and colors . . . And she had to have worn all of them at least a dozen times. Most people build an outfit around a dress, but my mom usually built her wardrobe around her shoes," Alex sniffled, wiping away a budding tear. "Charles Schultz was the reason she wanted to be an illustrator. She *loved* Charlie Brown, she even had all of his animated television specials on tape. If I'd been a boy, she was going to name me Charles after him," she remembered. "Sometimes she'd make public appearances or speeches and she'd take me. We'd always drive too, sometimes for hours . . . " she briefly paused, the smile growing on her face and even in her wet eyes. "We'd sing Carole King's version of the theme song from Gilmore Girls - you know the one?"
Claire nodded, "I've seen Gilmore Girls on TV Land."
"Yeah," Alex smiled at her. "Me too. We'd sing that song all the time in the car. She just *loved* Carole King, and Elton John, and Fleetwood Mac - all these bands from the 1970's and 1980's, and of course now I like them . . . " she trailed off, wiping away her tears.
"She sounds like she was really great."
"She was," she sniffled, a smile on her raw features.
"I can't imagine doing through that," Claire softly confessed. "I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how hard that must be . . ."
Alex curiously glanced over at her and inquired, "Your dad?"
Sighing, she leaned against the rail of the pier. "I think about him sometimes, but I don't think that counts as missing him . . . I never really knew him. I do wonder about him sometimes," she conceded, sharing with this stranger something she'd never divulged to anyone else. "I know it'll never happen, but I imagine that my Dad would come back . . . He left when I was a baby, and he was a really bad alcoholic. A horrible person . . . Sometimes I imagine he comes back though. That he's clean and that all he wants in life is to know me, to be this really great father . . . To take me to Kings games and ask me about school and question any boy I like . . . In my mind, he's just like my Uncle Will," she confessed. "So, I mean, I never knew my birth dad . . . I have a few pictures of me with him, but I don't really look at them. I can't really say I miss him, because I never knew him, but I've always had my Uncle Will."
"I'm sorry you never knew him."
"Nah," she dismissed. "Your mom sounds like she was a great person, and I used to read her cartoon strip, she was great. My father wasn't like that. Plus, I mean I've always had my Uncle Will. Anything I ever needed from a father, he gave me. He even came up every year of high school for the father/daughter dance, and came up for my prom and a few weeks later for my graduation."
"Is he your mom's brother?"
"No," she shook her head. "Uncle Will is my mom's best friend in the world. They've known each other since college . . . They've been through a *lot* together. He's my godfather too . . . I can't imagine losing him or my mom . . ."
"My mom was sick," Alex explained, wiping away the remnants of her walk down memory lane. "She was in so much pain . . . Everyone say's she's in a better place, that she's no longer suffering . . . But that doesn't help," she sighed. "I don't know how people expect me to believe it's a better place if it took her away from the people she loved . . . I'm still mad at her," she whispered against the wind. "Part of me is still *so* mad that she left, that she gave up . . . No matter how much my head says that she didn't give up, she didn't have a choice . . . Part me of me can't help it," she confessed. "I just keep *hoping* and *praying* that one day I won't be angry anymore, that thinking about her won't make me cry . . . "
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to be a doctor, eventually," Alex shrugged. "I don't know. Part of me wants to go back to Arizona. It *is* the house that my mom and I lived in for awhile, and I know Matt would like it, but part of me . . . I don't know what to do. I mean, I know I'm almost a legal adult, twenty-one and all of that, but part me . . . I'm nineteen years old, I still sort of feel like my place in life is supposed to be where my mom is, or at least not too far from her."
"What do you think she'd want you to do?"
"Be happy," she chuckled. "If I can ever figure out how again."
Claire looked at her new friend in awe. The worse loss she'd ever suffered in her life was her Uncle Rick's sudden death. He hadn't suffered, and she couldn't imagine all that Alex had gone though. Rick had been fine, no one had ever had to see him suffer. As heavy as her regret of never having a true goodbye felt, she knew in that moment having to helplessly watch someone you love slowly deteriorate had to be far more painful.
"I hope you find it soon."
"Yeah," Alex tossed her a half smile. "Me too."
The engine died as Claire effortlessly turned the key. In front of them the two cars, evidence of their parent's presence, sat in the driveway. Cautiously she pulled the key out of the ignition and turned towards her newly found friend. "Are you ready for this?"
"She sounds really nice," Alex spoke, her voice distant as her eyes seemed fixated on an invisible object in front of her. "I mean . . . I know she's really nice. Everyone's said it, my dad, you . . . even my mom . . . "
"Your mom said my mom was nice?"
"Yeah," Alex chuckled and looked over at Claire. "Weird, huh?"
"A little," she hesitantly admitted. "My mom doesn't get nervous very easily . . . She's a really strong person. . . So strong, I envy her," Claire admitted. "I know this probably doesn't make it any easier, but I know how anxious she is about meeting you. I know she really wants you to like her."
"I promised my mom I would try," she explained, forcing a smile. "So I'm really going to try."
"I didn't want to meet your dad," she added. "I was mean to him when I first met him . . . I've had my mom all to myself for most of my life, and I really didn't like sharing that. I still don't."
"I hated sharing my mom with Matt. I did like him, sometimes . . . Most of the time," Alex sighed. "He took care of her and made her happy, but there were times where I felt like it would have been easier for them if I wasn't around . . . There were times when I just wanted her to myself, or for her to stop paying so much attention to him and pay attention to me . . . Sometimes it was just so damn hard to see her with someone other than my father."
"I'm sorry," Claire blurted.
"No," Alex quickly dismissed. "Don't be. It's certainly not your fault they got divorced . . . Not even your mother's fault . . . Sometimes people just get divorced. It sucks and it breaks your heart, but there's nothing anyone can do about it."
"Do you think about it a lot?"
"Probably more than I should . . . Right before mom married Matt, after they got engaged, I was obsessed with it. Even before they were officially engaged . . . Everyone knew what was coming. I have this entire journal that goes on and on about how unfair it is . . . And I still think it's unfair, but I don't think there's anything anyone could have done to change what happened."
"That doesn't make it any easier to deal with."
"It doesn't," she agreed. Sucking in deeply, she turned towards Claire and tried to smile, "I think I'm ready though."
"Okay," she smiled as they slowly got out of the Jeep. Without a word the brunette led her through the back gate and into the yard as Gehrig began to boisterously bark from inside the confines of his kitchen. "His bark is so worse than his bite," Claire assured her, hoping to relieve the tension.
"He's too small for anything else," Alex chuckled as they climbed the aging concrete steps. "A key?" she spoke as the other woman went to open the door.
"Oh. We usually don't lock the door, especially if mom is home," she explained. Then she opened the door and allowed them into the house. "Mom, Michael, we're home!" she called into the empty room as Gehrig rushed by them to the backyard.
"Hey, where'd you two go?" Vaughn smiled, striding easily into the kitchen.
"Claire took me to the pier. It's really nice there," Alex explained, shrugging off her coat.
"Oh," he grinned in surprise in Claire's direction. "That was really nice of you. Did you two have a nice time?"
"It was fine," Claire shrugged.
Alex spoke softly, "Where's Sydney?"
Vaughn turned his eyes to his daughter and smiled softly, "she'll be right down sweetheart," he explained. "We ordered dinner - pizza. I hope that's okay with you two."
"As long as it doesn't have mushrooms or anchovies, I'll eat it," Claire assured him, reaching for something to drink from the refrigerator and offering something to Alex as well.
"We made sure that there aren't any inappropriate toppings," Vaughn assured her. Instinctively he picked up on the sound of Sydney's bare feet approaching as he glanced over his shoulder, offering Alex his strength with a smile as he met her uncertain eyes.
"Hi," Sydney greeted as Claire sat down at the table and silently smiled at her mother.
"Alex," Vaughn gently placed his hand on his daughter's elbow as they turned to look at Sydney. "This is Sydney Bristow. Syd, this is my daughter, Alexandra."
Near silence, the only sound Zelda's soft purring from Claire's lap, swaddled the room. It only lasted a moment, perhaps two, but Vaughn was left to bask in the magnitude. After all the road bumps and errors along the way, he still somehow managed to stand in the same room with three women he was certain had to be the most beautiful and amazing in the world. The three women who meant everything to him - a category Claire had unknowingly wielded herself into, and would forever remain, whether she wanted the title or not.
"It's nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you," Sydney smiled and shook the younger woman's hand.
"Thank you," Alex replied, her voice slightly cracking. "Dad's said a lot about you too," she added. "You have a really nice house."
"Thank you," she nodded. "I hope your flight was okay."
"For the most part," Alex rolled her eyes. "Airplane food sucks."
"Yes," Sydney laughed. "I remember. It does," she agreed. Standing by Sydney's side, Vaughn looked over Alex's shoulder and smiled at Claire, relieved when she reluctantly returned the gesture.
"Do you travel a lot?"
"I used to," she answered. "For work, when I was younger. Claire and I go to Los Angeles and Seattle once a year during the holidays, but that's about it now."
"Did you always live in L.A.?"
"We moved when I was . . . three," Sydney recalled. "I was born in West Virginia."
"I've never been further east than Illinois," Alex shrugged.
The four sat down around the kitchen table as Vaughn spoke up, "Did you get to look at those colleges?"
"Yeah. I wasn't too happy with the college in Lake Forest, but DePaul and U of Chicago are nice."
"I set up a tour of the Humboldt campus for you if you're interested. I arranged it so you could take your dad too, if you'd like," she added.
"Haven't you taught there for like twenty years?" Alex asked, the lines of confusion etched across her forehead.
"Well, yes," she answered, briefly meeting Vaughn's eyes. "Nineteen, actually."
"Then why don't you give me the tour?" she suggested. "I mean, no offense dad, but you've been here what, a day? If I'm going to go to school here, I'm going to live there, so I'd like the person who shows me the campus to actually know it better than I do."
"She's got a point," Claire muttered.
"You want *me* to show you the campus?" Sydney questioned.
"Sure," she shrugged. "How big can it really be? I mean, if you've got the time."
"Of course," she quickly assured her. "I mean . . . If your dad doesn't mind."
"No," Vaughn shook his head, fighting back too big of a smile. "That's fine sweetheart, if it's what you want."
"Tomorrow, maybe?" Alex turned to Sydney.
"That'd be fine," the older woman nodded, still battling with her obvious surprise. "If you like the school, I have some friends in admissions who can talk to you about transferring. They could help you transfer wherever you want, even if it's not Humboldt," she offered.
"I have a counselor back at Arizona . . . I should probably e-mail him soon . . . " she remembered. "Did you go to Stanford too?" Alex looked at her father's girlfriend, remembering that it was Claire's college.
"No. UCLA, undergrad and graduate."
"That's a nice campus," Alex commented.
"At the time I was just happy to be out of my house . . . Did you live on campus at Arizona?"
"No, I lived at home," she answered.
"Dorms are great," Claire spoke up. Skeptically the young blonde woman looked at her. "Okay," she sighed. "They're not really great, but they do allow a whole new look at the world," she smirked.
"I would hate having a roommate."
"They're not too bad," Claire insisted. "I love Laura . . . It's weird sometimes, basically sharing your life with this total stranger, but it helps you learn cooperation, compromise and communication."
Taking a sip of his soda, Vaughn murmured, "Sounds like something from the university handbook."
"It is, actually," the young brunette chuckled. "Dorms are scary, but I'm having a lot of fun."
"Frosh, right?" Alex questioned.
Claire's nose wrinkled in disgust, "I hate that word."
"You won't as soon as it doesn't apply to you," the blonde laughed. "The first year only lasts one year. That's it, then it's over and you're free to torture the next class of unsuspecting newbies."
"I don't think I will," she dismissed. "I don't have enough interest or time to bother annoying other people. Well, other than Bryce," she added as an afterthought.
"Who's he?"
"Just a guy . . . Okay, well, he's more than just a guy - he's sort of my boyfriend . . ." she muttered the confession, her cheek's burning. Quickly she continued, "He's from school. We've known each other for about . . . six months now," she explained, smiling brightly at Alex. "He's cute."
"Hot cute or goofy cute?"
"Hot cute," she immediately replied, the color rising higher on her cheeks. For a moment memories of a long ago conversation flashed in Sydney's mind, the red of the restaurant walls matching the single red rose that Francie had carefully placed on every table, and the look of surprise when she confessed to having a crush on a coworker. Out of the corner of her eye she looked at the man at her side, surprised that he was there again, perhaps exactly where they each belonged, after everyone else had considered it impossible. Vaughn noticed her gaze and effortlessly captured her eyes, holding her brown eyes with his and smiled.
"Do you have a picture?" Alex questioned.
"Bryce seems like a nice guy, but I really don't need or want to hear this conversation," Vaughn teased, slowly standing up as Sydney laughed.
"Not every Mets fan is a nice person," Claire tossed casually in Vaughn's direction.
Alex looked up, the thought of an unkind Mets fan foreign to her. "You don't like the Mets?"
"Yankees," Claire and Sydney answered in unison. As he stood, he looked down at Sydney and rolled his green eyes as he connected directly with her brown.
"Anyway, I don't think I have any pictures of Bryce with me, but there are some on the Cardinals website," Claire began, returning to the original conversation.
"He plays sports?"
"Basketball," Claire proudly gushed. "He's good too. Very good."
"Show me later?" Alex requested as Vaughn rolled his eyes subtlety at Sydney.
"I think dinner's here," Sydney noted as they heard a car pull into the driveway.
"I'll get plates and napkins," Claire declared as she stood.
Instantly the blonde woman joined her, "I'll help," she offered, taking Claire's direction as Vaughn and Sydney went to get the pizza.
"Vaughn . . . If you want to show Alex around Humboldt instead -"
"Syd," he cut her off, quietly handing the delivery boy his money and taking the pizza. "I think it's great," he answered honestly. "I think she likes you."
"I hope so," she sighed softly, an uncertainty she hadn't felt in decades creeping over her.
"I know so," he gently caught her hand. "Trust me," he leaned over to briefly kiss her.
"Don't promise me happily ever after Vaughn," Sydney softly warned, her eyes serious as the kiss broke.
"I'm not going to start making promises I can't keep now Syd. Not this late in the game."
Even in the dim light of the porch, he watched her head bob before she met his eyes and granted him a small smile. "Good," she agreed. "The pizza's getting cold," she noted, her smile turning into a silly grin.
"Let's go," he smiled as he led her back into the house.
The house was eerily quiet when Claire woke up the next morning. After she tossed the quilt aside, she slid her feet into her slippers. As she peered out the French doors, she saw that Gehrig was quietly making his way around the yard, enjoying himself immensely under the uncharacteristically warm March sun. She grabbed her sweatshirt off of the back of the sofa to protect her from the morning chill that often blanketed the home, and started towards the kitchen.
To her disappointment, she walked into the room to find only Michael. He'd obviously been up for sometime, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, reading the sports section. At the sound of her footsteps, he glanced up and smiled at her, just a twinge of awkwardness to validate the slight unease she felt. "Hey," she greeted casually, grabbing a glass and pouring herself some orange juice. "Where's my mom?"
"She took Alex for a tour of the campus. They should be back around lunch," he explained as she slid into her normal place at the end of the table.
"Oh," Claire sighed. "What about you?"
"Nothing today," he smiled pleasantly at her. "How'd you sleep?"
"Okay," she shrugged. Reaching over, she took another section of the paper, and struggled to read it as he made his way effortlessly through the sports section. Finally, she tossed the paper aside, causing Vaughn to look up in concern. "How do you know about my grandmother?"
Vaughn sighed, unable to look at her and slowly put down his paper. "Claire . . . "
"Don't patronize me. I want to know."
"Your mother really should be the one -"
"She won't tell me! She'll never tell me!"
"It doesn't matter," he insisted, finally meeting her eyes, stating his conviction. "She's your grandmother Claire . . . It doesn't matter how I know about her. It shouldn't matter . . . All that matters is for all of your life . . . " he paused, struggling to state what he knew to be the truth. "For all of your life, she's been a . . . She's been a good grandmother Claire. She loves you and loves your mother . . . You're a very lucky young woman. You have a family that is small but would do *anything* for you . . . That makes you luckier than so many people at your age," he explained, mentally adding that Claire had fared better at eighteen than her mother had. Your grandparents and mother love you very much, that will always be there for you . . . What I do or don't know, how I know about your grandmother, is irrelevant."
"Why won't you just tell me?"
Vaughn sighed, "Because I can't," he explained. "For various reasons . . . The most important being that it's your mother's decision. You have to realize that your mother would never make a decision like that unless she felt it was in your best interest. Your grandmother is a good grandmother and she was . . . She *is* a good mother," he admitted, although the words left a slightly metallic taste on his tongue.
"I know it's difficult to imagine that parents and grandparents had lives before yours started . . . But they did, and in a lot of ways it doesn't matter who they were or what they did. One thing I've learned Claire, is that it doesn't matter . . . When a person is gone, when a relationship has to end because of death . . . " he paused, taking a deep breath and paused to consider his thoughts. Visions of the painful days after Sydney's apparent death still burned in his soul as he struggled to implant a lesson in Claire that had taken him nearly half a lifetime to learn. "When a person is gone, it doesn't matter what the rest of the world saw in them . . . It doesn't matter what the rest of the world thought of them or anything beyond your relationship with them. All that matters Claire, all that *should* matter to you, is the relationship you have with your grandmother. No one lives forever Claire, no matter how much we love them, so we can only love them as best we can and focus on what they give back to us, not how they interact with the rest of the world."
"You really loved her, didn't you?" Claire whispered, her brown eyes wide. At his confused expression, the teenager clarified. "My mother. You were nuts about her, weren't you?"
"It nearly killed me," he whispered, his eyes pained and obviously far away in a distant memory. "And the crazy thing is that I still love her that way," he added. "No matter how much I convinced myself I'd moved past it . . . That it was only just a memory . . . All I have to do is look or even *think* about your mother, and it's still as real as it ever was."
"I want to love someone like that," she whispered, her brown eyes drawn to the top of the kitchen table.
"I hope you do," Vaughn sincerely spoke. "And I hope that if you do, you never lose it until you're too old to realize it."
"Me too," she smiled briefly at him. "So, what are your plans today?" she inquired, the subject effectively shut as she stood and searched for breakfast.
"Oregon."
"Excuse me?" Claire paused to look at him over her shoulder.
"There's a rink just over the state line in Oregon. An ice rink. I'm going to teach you to ice skate and play ice hockey."
"Oregon? What about my mother?"
Vaughn chuckled, "She knows."
"Oregon . . . That's a long drive . . . "
"Two hours, give or take," he shrugged. "It'll be fun Claire. I'll even let you pick the music we listen to."
Sighing, she turned to fully look at him, "Why?"
"Just because," he shrugged. Because he'd always love Sydney Bristow, and because she was Claire Bristow, a perfect extension of the woman he loved. Perhaps she'd never be his, there was a chance that Claire would never truly regard him as anything more than something on the sole of her shoe, much the same approach that Jack Bristow would likely feel towards him forever, but he couldn't imagine loving her as though she was anything short of his own flesh and blood daughter.
Claire sighed with frustration and started out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?" he called.
"I have to find a sweater!" she rolled her eyes in his direction, causing him to laugh as she charged impatiently up the stairs.
A short distance away, Alex walked along the well kept grounds of Humboldt State with Sydney. More than once during their morning walk they'd been stopped, making it obvious that Professor Bristow was equally popular with her students and colleagues. To each and every person who'd approached them, Sydney had introduced Alex with just a hint of pride in her voice, explaining that the young woman was considering a transfer to the college. Everyone had wished Alex luck, leaving her in awe of the friendly group of people.
"It really is beautiful here," Alex finally spoke. They'd walked by and through several academic and main campus buildings as Sydney answered her various questions to the best she could. Cars were allowed on campus, although she noted that most students seemed to ride a bike, walk and even a few appeared to be rollerblading through campus.
"I'd only seen photos when I first moved here, but it's even more beautiful now," she agreed. "I think Professor McKeon was impressed when you spoke with him."
"He seemed really nice," she nodded, remembering her recent conversation with the head of the college's biology department.
"If you are interested in medical school, he'd be a fantastic person to talk to. He completed medical school and two years of a surgical residency before he went on to get his masters and PhD in biology," Sydney explained.
"Where'd he go?"
"UCLA Medical, I think," she answered. "I'm not positive though. I'm sure he'd be happy to answer any questions you might have, regardless of where you end up. Lainie is an admissions counselor, she wasn't there today but we've been friends for awhile . . . She worked at several universities before she decided to work here until she retired. I'm sure she'd be happy to help you work out a transfer if that's what you decide. Even if it's not at Humboldt, since she's familiar with a lot of the policies."
"I probably should . . . To insure that my credits will transfer and that I won't have to worry about being behind . . . " Alex sighed, looking around the campus. "I like college," she confessed. "I like *this* college too," she added.
Sydney nodded, their pace steadily slowing as she gently prodded, "But?"
"I can't imagine graduating college . . . I swear, it seems like it was just yesterday when I was a freshman in high school and I thought graduating high school was light years away . . . I guess I just can't imagine graduating college without my mom being there," she confessed and looked to Sydney.
"I understand," she smiled briefly and looked down at her feet. After a few steps Sydney looked straight ahead and explained, "My mother never saw me graduate either . . . Well, except from kindergarten."
"She didn't?"
"No," Sydney sighed and shook her head. "I lost her when I was six . . . It was the November after I started first grade. I remember it was so hard because she was there for the class Halloween party - she'd baked and sewn my costume and then . . . just a few weeks later, for Thanksgiving, she was just . . . gone . . ."
"I didn't know," Alex spoke softly.
"There's no way you could have," she assured her with a slight smile. "My father . . . Your father's trying, very hard, to make this easier for you . . . Something my father was never able to do," she added. In fact, in a situation eerily similar to what Vaughn had experienced after her own apparent death, her father had been seemingly incapacitated with grief for the first six months following Laura Bristow's "death". For the first time in her life she noticed the similarities, wishing that she'd noticed the obvious years before and reconciled herself that if Jack could still love Irina after all the betrayals and years of resentment, Vaughn surely must have loved her, even when he was with Kate. He'd loved Kate, he'd promised her his life and had lived up to that promise as best he could, but when it came down to it, Sydney owned his heart and soul and likely always would.
"How did you do it?"
"One day at a time," she tossed her a half smile and a shrug. "That's the only way you can do anything . . . It's difficult, when all of your friends have mothers . . . There's no easy way to explain it, and no matter how old you get, the looks of pity are always there . . . There are always people who love you, people who want to help . . . Even people in your life who will step in to the role of a mother when you need it," Sydney explained, her mind drawing back to the late Emily Sloane and how desperately she'd loved Emily, the only mother she'd known for so much of her life. Nearly all of the qualities she'd wanted to be as a mother primarily came from what she'd learned from Emily. "No one will ever be your mother Alex, no one should ever even try . . . I promise I will never try to take that role either," she softly vowed as the women stopped to face each other. "If you need to talk . . . If you need a place to stay . . . I'll help you in whatever way I can, but I will *never* try to take the place of your mother. No one should ever try to disrespect your mother's memory by doing that."
"I know," she blinked away brief tears. "Thank you Sydney."
"Your welcome," she smiled sincerely at the younger woman. "Are you hungry?"
"I was too nervous to eat this morning," Alex admitted.
"Let's go get something to eat," she offered with a smile.
"That sounds great," she smiled as they leisurely walked along the campus, back to the parking lot in destination of an early lunch.
Dinner wasn't until late in the evening, after Claire and Vaughn returned from their impromptu trip north. Claire all but bounced into the house, anticipating relaying every little detail of her journey on the ice to her mother. Judging by the softness in Vaughn's eyes and the excited color on his cheeks, his attempt to strike a common ground with Claire had been more successful than he'd dared to hope. Afterwards Alex shared her campus tales with Claire, and the Trinidad native shared stories of various students and college employees that she could recall from over the years. When their parents walked in to the family room to ask about dinner, they were surprised at the comfortable sight. Claire sat on the floor in front of the television, playing Zelda while Alex sat on the sofa, writing a letter to her cousin. A relatively simple sight, Sydney struggled not to be alarmed at how comfortable and happy the situation left her as he had reached over to squeeze her hand, understanding instinctively how she felt.
"Who was on the phone?" Sydney asked late that night, raising her head from the bubbles. After a long day and a dinner with a few awkward pauses, the girls had gone out. Claire was going to a friend's house and had invited Alex along. Not interested in being home alone with her father and his new girlfriend, she had taken the offer. With the two girl's gone, Vaughn had excused himself to work on his lecture while she soaked in a much deserved bubble bath.
"Alex," he smiled and slowly lowered his body to the floor next to the tub. Sydney smiled as she rested her head against the padded side of the sofa. "She said they'll be home later. I guess Jake went out for pizza and they're going to stay some longer and play some air hockey or pool."
"They're safe there," she promised. Vaughn's green eyes remained on her as she sank lower into the tub, the bubbles right under her earlobes. Even with the bubbles surrounding her, he could sense her relaxing, her body melting in the warm tub. Though the excitement in her eyes over meeting Alex was legitimate, he had seen and understood her anxiety. To his delight, his daughter seemed to like Sydney, the two talking more easily over dinner than they had the previous evening. The transition would take time, for all four of them, but there wasn't a doubt in his soul that it would happen.
"I love you," he spoke softly.
Sydney looked up, her face straight and her expression sincere. "I love you too," she spoke, holding her hand out to him. Uncaring that her hand was wet, he took it in both of his and kissed it. As his lips grazed her skin, a tiny smile fluttered over her face as she rested her head back against the tub.
Watching her, half awake in the warm bath water, he loved her more than ever. He loved that there was no giddiness in her statement. All that was there in her words was a sincere statement of fact. The rest of the world would progress, with and eventually without them; their lives would always go on, but her love for him and his love for her would forever remain the same.