Rhapsody

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neptunestar: Aww, thanks… I'm glad you like this. :)

caz: Procrastination is what gets this story written. ;) In my opinion, Vaughn is the sweetest guy ever… And I'm glad to know that you can follow the time switches. I was a little nervous about that as I was writing, but it was the way it had to be.

Sarah9: Yes, if we just got rid of that "whole Lauren thing," everything would be absolutely perfect. Thanks for reviewing!

valley-girl2: Okay, seriously… ;) I think you beat your longest review with this one… I hate titles, but once in awhile there will be one that just works… Hmm. Putting on the hospital gown while holding Syd's hand. I guess I gave Vaughn some added talent there. ;) Oops… Your reviews don't amuse me (well, they do, but not in the way you were implying). They make my day… Wow. I think it would actually be interesting to see one where you didn't restrain yourself. ;) Thanks again for taking what must have been an insane amount of time to write that review. I love it!

Aquarius4: Thanks! I'm happy you liked both the stories. Hope this is soon enough for you… ;)

Natalie: Your question shall be answered. ;) Thanks for taking the time to review!

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Chapter 4: Divine

He wanted to pinch himself, so hard and for so long that the evidence of it would be black and ugly, both a painful and joyful reminder of reality, something to let him know that this wasn't all a dream. But he couldn't remember where his fingers were, much less how to bring two of them together to grab his own flesh. Life-maintaining reflexes aside, he couldn't move a muscle, was having enough trouble making sure that air kept steadily entering and exiting his lungs to even think about doing anything else.

It was fortunate that in those few moments, he forced himself to gulp in oxygen, and let it out with steady, hissing breaths. Because a fraction of an instant later, in the amount of time it took for his blinking eyelids to cover only half his field of vision, he was too far drowned in mirth and wonder for even one infinitesimal air molecule to squeeze its way into his chest.

Three words so wonderful that they nearly killed him, were almost the last he ever heard, buzzing repeatedly through his ears, reverberating off his eardrums to their own wild beat. Stars and stripes and solids swimming stormily before his eyes, confusing his mind and vision, dizzying him beyond belief until he was sure he must have been swaying visibly, would keel over any second and…

"It's a boy."

Dancing a few more frantic steps before slowing and steadying to catch its breath, the picture before him focused enough so that he could see the child that doctor was proudly displaying: two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth opened wide in a beautifully piercing scream; ten fingers, ten toes… So tiny, almost seemingly too small to be alive, to be real…

And it was a boy. After the initial shock ebbed just vaguely enough to allow thought to function, that was the next thing he checked, uncertain why he thought it necessary, but had to make sure he had heard right, that the doctor hadn't made a mistake.

He had a son.

Not that it mattered in the slightest. He would have been deliriously happy with a son, a daughter, or a baby gorilla. It would have been his and Sydney's baby gorilla and they would have loved it dearly. But a boy…

"Michael?"

Sydney's voice was so low that he shouldn't have been able to hear it. But he would have heard her a thousand miles away even if she hadn't spoken, would have felt her soft touch even if her fingers hadn't lifted to brush tenderly across his unshaven cheek.

His eyes snapped to hers, lured there by an unknown force too prevailing, haunting, dynamic to even consider resisting, quicker than iron shavings fly to the most powerful of magnets. A spark passed from one to the other and back again, melding green and brown through all the shades in between, one for each of the vast, countless emotions that were bubbling within their depths, locking sensations and flavors into each distinct hue; every gleaming speck murmuring millions of unheard words through each of their irises.

Rippling between them with a vigor and passion too violent for the Richter Scale to measure, not felt by anyone or anything else, not even shaking the surface of the earth, let alone toppling houses and skyscrapers. A volcano shooting blazing embers and spewing liquid fire that was so alive and real and heated to them, but not another soul could…

"Syd…"

Her name was mumbled, sticking to his tongue and struggling to stay there. He had to fight to yank it out, rip it from the prickling burrs that held fast to each of its letters, and even then it issued forth as an unsteady croak, the sweetest sound to flood her ears since…

If he hadn't been inundated with emotion, hadn't been struck dumb by the mere sight of their son, of her, then he surely would have leaned forward and kissed her, would have known that there were no words that could articulate his feelings better than that. But coherent thought wasn't an option, not in a moment like this, not when he had just fallen in love all over again and his heart had somehow coiled itself around his mind, was sticking to his tongue, his throat, his lungs, and he could barely breathe because of the pressure. He foolishly searched for words to give her, not realizing that they didn't exist, that those that had been silently spoken had swamped all the rest from existence.

But Sydney understood both what he said and what he didn't, heard his heart serenade her while his voice faltered, her thumb caressing his cheek as two words meandered their way between the halves of her soft smile.

"I know…"

A quiet sigh. He wasn't sure whether it was his or hers, didn't know whose hand was tightening on the other, whose fingers were gripping with such force that it should have been bruising but was still so soft and tender. All he knew was that his heart was bursting, that she had triggered the explosion and he would willingly let her do it again and again, a thousand times over.

An entire exchange taking place in less time than it takes to sneeze, a hundred lifetimes of conversations zinging back and forth in too little time to be counted, with less than five spoken words, all the rest of them surging through the conduits that love alone provided.

Neither of them would have been the first to break eye contact, would have willingly destroyed the direct pathway that inextricably linked their souls. So it was fitting that they looked away at the exact same instant, eyes unable to keep off their little boy for a moment longer and immediately searching him out.

Everything was so jumbled and confused, both rushing and in slow motion so that at times he had no idea what was going on. Before Vaughn knew what was happening, he was letting go of Sydney's hand and the little boy was placed in her arms, not more than a few inches away, so close that he would hardly have to move to reach out and touch him. He couldn't resist the temptation, didn't have to, brushing a finger across the tiny forehead, down a cheek and arm, finding fingers that were so small they could just barely wrap around his own.

He watched his fiancée and their child, his mind running through every painting, every statue he had ever seen and not finding one that was more natural, more beautiful than the scene before him. If he had been asked ten months or even ten minutes ago to name the five happiest moments in his life, all of them would have revolved solely around Sydney, the center of his world. But now another life had wriggled its way into the picture, surprisingly not throwing everything off balance as he might have expected, instead adding a stability that hadn't been possible before, that he already couldn't imagine ever living without it.

"Vaughn?" Sydney asked softly, her voice the only thing that would have been able to shake him from his reverie, all that could flit its way through the amazement that still shimmered around them both. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Yes."

It had taken him less than a second to come up with his answer. It hadn't always been the response he would have given… not until the moment a woman had walked into his office, red everywhere: a glaringly bright shade dying her hair, ringing her eyes, glistening painfully in the corners of her mouth. He had tried to convince himself that she was crazy, had succeeded to the point where he had believed it without a doubt. But only to keep him from seeing, acknowledging that even as insane as she had looked, she had been crazily beautiful, that the moment she had walked into the CIA building, he had essentially been spoiled for the rest of the female population.

Of course, he hadn't admitted this until later, had been too professional to even think of letting himself fall for her completely. He had tried to stay with Alice and continue his life as he had naively thought he should have lived it…

But whenever he had closed his eyes, and before long even when he had kept them open, all he could see, taste, feel, breathe… was her.

Any other man might have been angered or confused to learn that while he had loved his fiancée from the moment he had laid eyes on her, she didn't know what it was like, hadn't felt the same way. Surely this would have put a damper on thousands of other relationships, slaughtered the smiles of hundreds of other couples.

But Vaughn understood. He knew what Sydney wasn't able to put into words, that in her own way, she had fallen for him the moment she had first seen him too. She might not have realized it then or even now, but Vaughn knew that grief and past love had brutally and painfully blinded her. She hadn't been allowed, hadn't let herself truly open her eyes until…

It had been love at first sight for both of them. With each other and with their little boy.

"Will you…?"

He silenced her with a slow, tender kiss, dipping his head down to drop an even gentler one on their son's forehead before acquiescing to her unfinished request, the sweet French lullaby streaming from his lips and truly reaching their baby's ears for the first time. The words were slow, whispered, would have been broken through with tears if he had tried to raise his voice. But still, they were perfect, would have been no matter what because the words themselves never mattered.

The nurses were kind enough to wait for him to finish before asking for the child. They took him from Sydney's arms, and Vaughn watched as they placed ID bracelets on both mother and child, one of the nurses wheeling the baby from the room with promises to return, the other staying to care for Sydney awhile longer before finally leaving the two of them alone.

Disbelief and wonderment still pulsating through the air, refusing to surrender to anything other than complete ecstasy. But even when such happiness arrived to take over entirely, he allowed them to share his throne, couldn't think of two people who deserved the reign of this triumvirate more than those before him.

Smiles a permanent fixture on their exhausted faces, Sydney and Vaughn were allowed a few moments of quiet caresses and gentle whispers before their tranquil solitude was infringed upon; but this intrusion was more than welcome.

A clearing throat and a light knock on the doorframe alerted them to Jack's presence. He stood uncomfortably in the doorway, one hand gripping a stuffed bear by the neck, the other gesturing behind him and down the hallway as he hastily offered an explanation. "The nurse said that…"

"Dad," Sydney interrupted with a tired smile and sigh of relief.

Jack rightly took that as his invitation to enter. He and Sydney had made a lot of headway in their relationship over the past few months, a slow but steady closeness blossoming between the two of them. But the sterile intimacy of this foreign environment, seemed to momentarily sap the strength of the bond they had worked so hard to create; it was an uncomfortable situation for all of them. Nodding in greeting, Vaughn stepped aside to give the older agent room to greet his daughter, grinning inwardly as the usually gruff man bent forward and kissed her forehead.

"Thanks for coming," Sydney murmured, and Vaughn hoped that Jack could hear the barely restrained emotion coursing through her words, knew how much his being there meant to his little girl. But he must have noticed, because there was no way anyone could not see the utter bliss waltzing through those dark, captivating eyes.

"Everything went well?"

Those were three words that could have been spoken after a mission or business transaction, probably would have seemed too starched, too out of place in any other hospital delivery room. But here, with the three of them, they were perfect, couldn't be anything but loving and concerned when they were said so gently, while a stuffed bear smiled up from Jack Bristow's left hand.

"Yeah…"

Sydney's breathy reply answered him, would have continued if Jack hadn't suddenly realized he was clutching the teddy bear so tightly, loosening his hold and trying to smooth the yellow ribbon that had been wrinkled almost impossibly by his near-death grip. That crinkled ribbon was the one small piece of evidence that his daughter's safety and the birth of his grandchild really had slipped its way through his tough exterior, pinching him with at least some of the nervousness felt by every father.

"I brought this," he offered, giving up trying to flatten the ribbon and holding the bear out to his daughter. "Hospital gift shop. I chose the yellow one because I wasn't sure if…"

"Did they tell you?" Vaughn asked quickly.

Both he and Sydney had had the same idea, her sentence spilling out a split second after his began. "Dad, it's a boy."

And those were somehow the magic words. Jack's imperturbable and guarded casing fizzled away like carbon bubbles losing themselves in open air. But instead of flattening him as this would have a soft drink, the loss made room for his heart to swell and beat with emotion and compassion in a way it hadn't for years, since long before even Sydney's steel-trap memory could recall.

Jack wrapped his daughter in a hug. It was quick and far from flooding with feeling, but it existed and that was all that mattered. Such a hasty, simple act spoke volumes, and coupled with the words that followed, proved to be much more than either Vaughn or Sydney would have ever dared to hope for.

"I'm so proud of you, Sydney."

By the way the statement was spoken, the way tears sprang to Sydney's eyes and her hand blindly stole past her father and reached for his own, Vaughn knew that those words meant the world to her, so much more than their collective meanings could ever convey in countless grammatical combinations. They weren't just for giving her father a grandson, although that had been the catalyst, or even a late congratulatory effort for her work as an agent in the takedown of SD-6.

Encapsulating her strength and honor, her very essence and simple being, all that she was and none of those things that she never could or would be, they were for everything, both congratulations and an apology for all the times Jack had kept both from her before.

Suddenly shy, Sydney's voice had tiptoed away with her response, or perhaps it had been kidnapped, snatched on its way out of her throat. Whatever the reason, its absence didn't matter, her heart quickly compensating for reason's upset and calling on emotion to flare the gratitude from her eyes.

Vaughn's gaze flitted from Sydney to Jack, feeling almost as if he were intruding on this father/daughter moment even though Sydney had drawn him into her family long ago. He would have crept from the room and left the two of them alone, but he wouldn't have strayed from Sydney's side for anything.

A hand on his shoulder surprised him. A hand that couldn't have belonged to Sydney; he had memorized her touch long ago and this was too big, too heavy, the angle was all wrong. But Jack was the only other person in the room and…

"Vaughn, I know that…"

Jack's voice was speaking, his lips moving to form the vowel sounds, in perfect sync with each word. And there were so many thousands of ways that sentence could have been completed, all of them jumping up and down in a frenzy, waving their hands wildly in the air. But Vaughn, while he knew each and every member of that usually silent classroom, never knew who was called upon to answer, never got the chance to hear…

"Dude! You don't even tell me that…"

This exclamation burst forth from the multitude of balloons that were trying to make their way through the door, their metallic faces proclaiming Congratulations!, Happy Anniversary, and 40! Over the Hill!. Probably whatever had been quickest, easiest, and most importantly, cheapest.

After the initial surprise faded, allowing sound to reach Vaughn's ears, Weiss' voice was heard once again, grumbling curses this time as the sea of balloons vibrated angrily and parted, revealing his familiar face amidst a rainbow of snarled ribbons. He ducked underneath the mess, wiggling awkwardly to maneuver backwards through the doorway, and yanked the balloons in after him, grinning triumphantly at the three silently surprised and amused faces before him.

His grin withered to a sigh when seconds went by without a response, his eyebrow raising. "My aunt had to die to get me out of work, FYI, so you better appreciate…"

"Clara?" Vaughn interrupted with a grin. A vigorous nod was his answer, both men's smiles widening further with whatever this shared information held for them.

"I'm so…" Sydney began, but Vaughn silenced her with a hand to her cheek and a tenderly placed thumb, the pad of it dancing along the seam of her lips, transforming her concerned frown into a smile.

"Don't be," he assured her with a laugh, letting his fingers linger against her face for a moment longer before dropping them slowly to the bed and turning toward his friend. "What's Clara's death count, now? 146?"

"Forty-seven," Weiss answered, ignoring Jack's snort of disapproval. "And that's only since I started counting in 9th grade." A quick glance around the room rewarded him with both Sydney's smile and the familiar Jack Bristow Death Glare. "So when does Uncle Eric get to meet his…"

"Michael…"

Vaughn froze at the sound of his name, eyes meeting Sydney's for a moment, not sure whether the shock he saw there was truly hers or a reflection of his own. Turning his head slowly, as if going too fast would have changed the pronunciation of those two spoken syllables, causing them to disappear. He would have recognized that voice anywhere, hadn't heard his name pronounced in exactly that way for…

A nurse was wheeling the baby back into the room, followed by the one person he absolutely positively should have remembered to call but definitely hadn't. It had to have been a ghost, a mirage, his conscious kicking in and slamming him over the head with the fact that he had forgotten to…

"…I think this child is even more precious than you were the day you were born."

"Maman?"

Sydney's hand tightened on his just enough so that he could feel it. So many times they had planned to take the three-hour drive up the coast to visit his mother, had looked forward to the picnics and quiet walks on the beach. He had longed to see Sydney in the place where he had grown up, to show his mother exactly why he had refused every single one of her "family friend" blind dates since that October day almost two years ago. But life had been especially cruel in that respect, and every single time their plans had fallen through; one or the other would not be able to go, and those few visits that Vaughn had taken earlier in the past year had been alone.

He ran his thumb softly across Sydney's hand before twisting his wrist and interlacing her fingers with his own, wanted to lean forward and press his lips against hers, to tell her that here was no reason to worry, that his mother would love her as much as he did. But there were suddenly so many people in the room, and as the connection to all of them, it was his responsibility to…

"Maman, how did you…?" His voice trailed off without his permission, seemed to have a mind of its own since his own was still reeling.

"Mr. Bristow was kind enough to look up my number and call me, dear. He said that you surely would have done it yourself if you hadn't been so preoccupied." She turned to Jack and extended a hand. "Thank you for making sure I didn't miss the birth of my first grandchild."

"Not a problem," he answered, shaking her hand politely. "And please, call me Jack."

"Charlotte," she returned, kissing her son and pinching Eric's cheek in the same greeting she had given him since meeting him years ago. She turned toward Sydney then, smiling warmly, and Vaughn knew that it was the moment that every male dreads, that he had been looking forward to for over two years: time for him to introduce his mother to the first and last woman in his life.

And right as he parted his lips to say those words he had been waiting to let pass since the day he met Sydney, he caught sight of the nurse bending over his son, reaching to pick him up and hand the little boy to his mother.

"Don't."

The nurse stopped mid-action, her eyes shooting in his direction. Vaughn glanced at Sydney for confirmation, eyes shining brighter than a four-year-old child's as he silently begged for permission to let go of her hand, would never dream of performing the action for anything less and without her consent. She assented by carefully unlacing her fingers from his own, a smile playing on the corners of her lips as she drank in his innocent expression.

"I'll do it," Vaughn continued, breaking off from the group around Sydney's bed and murmuring his thanks to the nurse as he bent over his son.

The nurse stammered something about hunger and coming back soon. Vaughn nodded, agreeing to everything she had said without hearing a word. All sound hovered around him, muffled and unnaturally slow, only snippets of the surrounding conversation seeping into his ears, thrusting its way through the dense haze.

"And you must be Sydney…"

The only sound that reached him with any comprehension and clarity, weaving its way through the maze of cottony fog and the rushing whoosh of his own pounding heart, was the sighing breath of the little boy sleeping before him.

"… even more gorgeous than Michael told…"

He thought for half a second that his mother's comment had to be impossible; he had to have told her that Sydney Bristow was the most beautiful woman on the face of any planet, that she was the most amazingly…

But just as quickly as it had flashed through his mind, the thought was gone; all sound again clouded from his ears. His eyes finding and focusing on the blue cap covering the tiny head, the soft cotton hiding most of the hair, only a few wispy patches sticking out from underneath.

"… Yeah, Mike always gets all the good ones…"

He ran his finger over one of them, the tiny strands of hair were much lighter now that they were dry, would one day change to a dirty blond that matched his own. He could see both Sydney and himself blended into the miniature features, stood for a moment puzzling over how they could have reached such perfection, when…

"… tired?… Yeah, but it was…"

… the boy's eyes fluttered open, a stormy sea of brown and green blinking before him, as if the irises had yet to decide which color to turn. Vaughn hoped that that they would stay that way forever, a beautiful hazel that only he and Sydney could have produced, that was capable of filling with the depths of emotion that their own eyes held, would speak for the child being truly theirs if there was ever any doubt.

Awakened by Vaughn's tender touch, the little boy calmly surveyed what was before him, whimpering slightly with the overwhelming sight of his new world, the bright lights and suddenly loud sounds, the loss of the comfortable darkness and warmth that had been his mother's womb.

"Hey buddy… It's okay." Vaughn wasn't sure where he had found it, but his voice was there, springing from his tongue to a whisper that no one but the child could hear, these first words a song solely for father and son.

Placing a hand behind the little head as he had been taught, amazed at how it nearly fit right into his palm. Bringing the other hand around and lifting slowly and carefully, afraid that the child would shatter if he moved so much as a millimeter in the wrong direction…

"… better hope he doesn't grow up to…"

… he positioned the little boy in the crook of his arm, addicted to the feeling of it already, how incredibly natural the warm weight felt against his body. He adored all six pounds and five ounces already, could have frozen in that…

"… didn't you, Mi…"

… instant while the world whirred around him and wouldn't have missed out on one second of life, had only felt that way with one other person before this moment. Her eyes were on him, penetrating to his heart and soul, and it was all that could tear his own eyes away from his son and draw them to it. Only her gaze. Only her.

And it was just the two of them again, forever and for merely a moment. The two of them and the child that their love had created; living, breathing proof that miracles do happen and dreams can come true.

Both of them lost, alone together. Nothing more than a gaze needed to lead them through winding, heated pathways that others could and would never find after eons of searching; echoes and bouncing beams of electric light were no help in caverns like this, stood no chance when something so much stronger locked the two of them within and steered everyone else away.

Their hearts singing a thousand silent songs in an instant, hitting notes and matching chords that others never would have thought of, but creating the perfect fusion of passionate music, so deafening and heart-poundingly loud that no other sound could hammer its way through until…

"Mike!"

Grating harshly on his ears after they had swallowed such sweet music, painfully snapping him from wherever he had been deep inside of her ages before he would have ever wished to leave. Vaughn knew that Sydney felt the jolt too as she looked quickly away, didn't know why they were embarrassed to be caught looking at each other when they were all but married, when he had vowed to be hers forever the moment that…

"Geez! I've been trying to get your attention for like five minutes!" Weiss continued, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. "And you two are standing here having eye sex with both your parents and your baby in the room."

As usual with Weiss' comments, there was nothing to say to that except for the sheepish and blushing Sorry that Sydney provided. This was readily brushed off as unnecessary by Charlotte, who had fallen in love with her future daughter-in-law the moment she had walked into the room and was so ecstatic that her son had finally made such a wonderful choice that she even forgot that she hadn't helped him with it.

"Your mother was wondering when she was going to get to hold her grandson, Jack was…" Weiss trailed off, realizing just in time that the rest of his statement probably would have been inappropriate. "And I want to know what we're supposed to call the kid. You must've picked out a name by now."

They had.

Their perfect girl's name had been decided upon weeks before; he couldn't for the life of him remember it now, but probably would when… if they needed it later. Its male counterpart, however, had made an appearance just last night. They had puzzled over the issue for months, never seeming to find anything that would fit just right, a name that would mean something but wouldn't be too rigid or outlandish, that their child would be proud (or at least wouldn't mind having) to carry through life.

Sydney had thought it up, somehow plucking perfection out of thin air as only she could do. Vaughn hadn't liked it at first. He hadn't hated it either, but it had just sounded too much like something his grandmother would have chosen and insisted upon him using. And simply for that reason, he had been ready to reject it the moment it had been spoken, discarding it somewhere behind them along with all the hundreds of others.

She had whispered it to him over dinner and he had chewed it along with his spaghetti, had been lucky that his mouth had been full when she'd spoken as it had allowed her time to explain her reasoning. And the second she had, he had fallen in love, hadn't been able to think of anything that could ever be more right.

As Vaughn looked down at his son, stepped forward to pass him carefully over to his own mother, he knew that it truly was the only name that fit, that what Sydney had stumbled across had been perfect, that he shouldn't have expected anything less from her.

With a sweet, shy smile, she had murmured to him that she wanted both the men in her life to be her angels. And that would have been enough to sway him in favor of what she had chosen, but what she had whispered next had won him over completely

Dipping her gaze to the lone meatball resting in the middle of her plate, her fork nervously chopping it into bite-sized pieces that wouldn't be eaten, she had mumbled that she wanted a way to remember that little boy that had inched his way into their hearts and beings in a matter of days, that they had loved and lost…

Rising from the table and claiming her lips, he had declared their quest for the perfect name completed, would have bent forward now to kiss her again if there weren't so many people watching. Almost damned them all, but caught Weiss' eye just in time, knew that they were all still waiting to hear the little boy's name.

And if only everything could stay this perfect, if only they could have more than a month of peace and bliss before everything once again turned upside down. If only…

But none of that mattered just yet; happiness was still with them now, as Vaughn's eyes met Sydney's and the name left his lips, falling through a smile.

"Gabriel… Gabriel Elijah Vaughn."

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In case there was any confusion with the names, both Gabriel and Michael are archangels, and Ilya is the Russian form of Elijah.

Sorry for the lack of movement, but there should be enough in the next chapter to make up for it... Thanks for reading!