Rhapsody

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Erin: Thanks for taking the time to review. :) It's nice to know that people actually like this.

Halcyona: Haha… Don't worry... And thanks for reviewing.

anonymous: This is one of the times when I wish that ff.net had emoticons, because I could sure use the blushing one right about now… Thank you so much!

valley-girl2: You crack me up. I love it… My roommate would probably remain sleeping if a Mac truck drove through the room, but I'd still feel bad if by some miracle I did something to wake her up, so… Papers are definitely meant to be done at the last minute. I spent hours trying to finish one over the weekend, got back to school, and found it had been cancelled. I've learned my lesson: Procrastination is key… As always, your reviews (seriously…) leave me speechless. Thanks for putting so much time and effort into them.

jerseyhartnett: Hello again! I can't believe you re-read all five chapters and then reviewed here as well. That's dedication. :) Thank you so much.

Sorry that this took so long. But you know how it gets at the end of the semester… Hopefully I'll be able to at least partially redeem myself with this chapter. But I guess I have to leave that up to you. There's no cliffhanger this time, or at least not an evil one…

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Chapter 6: Apparition

Syd… Syd… Syd…

His own words were his answer, resonating back to him, the sound waves ricocheting off walls and chairs and every other object in the room, before hammering hollowly against his ears, curling and shriveling to become a sound that was weak and useless, hardly could have been his own voice, only a wraith filling its usually strong existence. He was powerless, immobile, surrounded by space, inanimate walls, and a choking, constricting feeling that was a thousand times worse than the emptiness of being completely alone.

He tried again, but his voice froze, crackling uselessly in his throat, issuing forth in an insane cross between a croak and a sigh, an amalgamation that the howling wind and crying of his little boy quickly overpowered. His throat had closed completely, clamping down on her name as he tried to shout it once more, desperate to hear her, to catch a strain of anything that could even remotely resemble a response.

Silence, strong, harsh and heavy, seemed to become all the more powerful with the near-deafening effects of the screaming wind an child. A silence that became a sound in itself, so thick and charged that Vaughn could feel his skin tingling with its static power, its strangling grip encircling his neck. He wished, he hoped, he prayed…

But there was no reply.

Rubbing a hand over his face and through his wet hair, mixing rainwater with sweat and the tears that he wouldn't let fall completely, Vaughn continued down the hallway, fingertips of his other hand running along the wall to steady his course. He could only see in shapes and shadows, but turning on the light never even occurred to him. He didn't need to see; he would have been able to get to Sydney, to their son, no matter where either of them had been, could follow the quickening beat of his heard, a better gauge than any that would ever be invented.

Gabriel's shrieking tears wrapped themselves around him, compelling Vaughn onward as his feet faltered, steadily increasing in volume and urgency with every step, every breath that wheezed its way in and out of his throat. Perhaps the heart-ripping, flesh-crawling anxiety coursing through his veins and over every inch of his body had sprung solely from these cries, watered by each of the little boy's tears, growing into a hideous, snakelike vine that wound its way around his neck, joining with the fingers of silence and fatally tightening with every passing second, until…

His fingers bumped against the doorframe, fumbled through the air, the empty space that the open doorway provided, leading into his son's room. The nearly-choking cries vibrated through the otherwise deathly still air, creeping against his flesh, puckering it into goose bumps wherever they touched, mingling with the tingle of worry and the chill of a damp shirt against heated skin.

Vaughn reached the side of the crib automatically, not hesitating for a second before reaching down and picking up his screaming little boy. He didn't need light to see that his son's eyes were wide with fear, that his cheeks were flaming red and slick with tears. Grabbing a blanket with the child's trembling body, Vaughn wrapped it around his little boy as he held him tightly in his arms, rocking him back and forth as he had done so many nights before.

Rambling and tripping over themselves, tumbling head over heels as they stumbled from his mouth, a jumble of words murmured forth in a combination of English, French, and a language that no living being would be able to understand if concentrating too deeply, the true language of love. Part lullaby, part whisper, part nothing at all, but a blend of the three that meant more than any of them could unaided, more than anything and everything straight across the starry expanse of the night sky.

Only Vaughn's familiar voice coupled with the rhythmic rocking and the tender pressure of his lips against the child's head could reduce the little boy's sobs to shudders and then sighs, as he squirmed and snuggled in a desperate attempt to get as close to his father as possible, just as his mother had so many times before. Gabriel's tiny mind and heart still could not comprehend what was going on, why he had had to wait so long for someone to hold him, to love him, but he was able to forgive and forget, content to live in the moment, know that he was being hugged now.

"Shh, Gabriel… c'est bon, mon ange… My little boy… Daddy's here… Je t'aime. It's okay…"

Somehow the words found Vaughn and left his lips, battering their way past his seemingly swollen throat and singing to the little boy's ears as he made his way across the room and back out into the hallway, continuing toward his own bedroom door.

His whispers to the child persisted, became the mantra that urged each step closer to his door. His whispering voice, the baby's slowly calming breaths and his own heartbeat, the only sounds he could hear as he drew closer and closer to where he hoped he would find Sydney safe and sound. His son had lessened the aching in his heart, but the pain wouldn't dissipate completely until he held the child's mother, the love of his life, in his arms.

"Où est Maman, Gabriel?… Mon ange…"

A few more words falling like the raindrops outside, drumming against the child's ears and spilling across the floor. Where's Mommy, angel? Please… Vaughn wasn't looking for an answer, wasn't in control of what he was saying, didn't even know that the question had left his mouth. It had been randomly selected from the millions of others darting through his mind, and thrown into the stream of phrases pouring from his lips.

"…mon petit garçon…"

His mind was whirring, spinning crazily out of control, more confused than anything else, couldn't even begin to contemplate the thousands of oddities the setting presented and have kept his vital bodily functions going, have picked his feet up and put them down further along on the floor. Sydney had always been the first to hear their little boy, no matter how tired she was. There had been times when he hadn't awakened until he had felt her stir in his arms, despite the fact that the baby monitor was just as close to his head as it was to hers.

"… Shh… I've got you now. I've…"

His voice trailed off, surrendered to silence without the help of a waving white flag. The child was quiet now, nestling against his body, not caring that Vaughn's shirt was wet and his heart was beating frantically against his own little ear. Luckily, Vaughn's arm had been outstretched before him, his fingers brushing against his closed bedroom door before he had slammed both himself and Gabriel into it. Fumbling for the handle, he found it and swung the door open, the sudden chill and rushing howl of wind catching him off guard, sending him a few steps backwards and into the hallway.

It took a moment, a second that seemed to stretch into a lifetime, for his eyes to adjust to the livid darkness and stinging rush of air, to distinguish the curtains that billowed in the wind from the phantasms his mind tried to show him. Gabriel whimpered and anxiously nuzzled closer into his arms, his tiny body quivering with the sudden chill, the thin blanket proving a weak shield against such ruthless elements.

Without trying to see if Sydney was in fact in the bed, knowing that if he didn't shut the window first, he wouldn't get around to it, would either be at her side in a second or frozen with fear and worry. Sheltering the infant in his arms from the biting wind and the rain that it forced inside, Vaughn closed the window, leaving the storm to pound futilely and angrily against the glass.

A turn. A sharp intake of breath that pierced nearly through his heart. A blink of the eyes as they automatically squinted, struggling to get a picture that would make even a modicum of sense to his brain, not realizing that it wasn't their fault, that his mind was having enough trouble as it was, could barely discern forward from back, left from right, blood from air. His feet pounded one in front of the other, mechanically drawing him closer to the bed, his joints trying to rust and hold him in place, knowing he was caught in that at once almost deliciously terrifying and blood-drainingly horrible ambiguity of simultaneously wanting and not wanting to know if…

Finally, finally, finally, he was close enough; he could see with his eyes as well as his heart. Muscles weakening, knees threatening to give out and arms to drop the precious bundle that they held, as he ran a hand through his hair and rested on the back of his neck. Air burst forth from his lungs, hissing and relieving their fire, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

There, curled up nearly in the fetal position, arms pulled close to her body, hands balled into fists and grasping at the ends of the sleeves of his favorite hockey sweatshirt, was Sydney, asleep on the bed. Chest rising and falling, a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her face dancing with every breath she took, she was utterly exhausted, had been forced into a sleep so deep that not even the bedroom door that had undoubtedly slammed shut in the wind had wakened her.

Vaughn was at her side without another thought, had her in his arms and pulled against his chest before either of them had the chance to breathe again, his free hand tangling through her hair while his body twisted and his other arm maneuvered Gabriel safely out of the way of their embrace.

He felt Sydney's head jerk against him and her eyes flutter open as she startled awake. For a pinch of a second she struggled to get out of his arms, relinquishing quickly and throwing her own around his neck. It had taken her only a moment to recognize his touch, his scent, his very presence, only half an instant for her to realize that her guardian angel had come home and was holding her safely in his arms.

"Vaughn…"

That one word was mumbled, strangled and breaking, its departure from her lips nearly prevented by her own emotion and blocked by his neck as she nuzzled into him. Her hot breath washing over him and the skin of her fingertips against his own were just a few of the sensations that twenty-four hours had been too long to go without. Her one choking whisper was sweeter music to his ears than the entire collection of Beethoven's symphonies; anything she ever said always was, but somehow this, at this moment…

"Syd…"

"… I missed you…"

"… mon dieu, Syd…"

"… so much…"

"…tu m'as manque…"

Their words and sentiments stumbling one over the other, his French and her English coming out at the same time, repeating and mixing into something that hardly made sense, that neither of them really heard or needed to hear to understand. She felt his words in the wild beating of his heart just as he sensed the meaning of hers in the way she clung to him, as desperately as if he were her last tether to sanity, to reality, to life; as if being close to him were all that had ever mattered.

The mélange of voices finally bowed down to a sighing silence, the two of them claiming a few moments to do nothing more than breathe in the other's scent, breath, essence; fingertips whispering over skin and through hair as the rain pounded against the window, lacing a steady murmur into the background that was perfect now that they were together, were one.

It was only at that instant, when he had her safe in his arms, that Vaughn realized how ridiculous his fears had been, how far he had let them spiral out of hand. He was a CIA agent, could perform a million absurd duties under amazing amounts of pressure, but somehow when it came to Sydney, now that everything was so different, so much better than it had been before…

The color rose in his face, hastening to settle in his cheeks and at the tips of his ears. Sydney felt the rush of blood as it passed through the skin of his neck, brought her face up just inches from his own and regarded him questioningly, so close that she cast a darker shadow over them, momentarily clouding his vision as his eyes scrambled to readjust. But he didn't need to see her eyes to know the concern that played there, had received and thus memorized this exact look a million times before, could feel it as her apprehension washed over him in waves.

He kissed her softly, tenderly, the few seconds that he let his lips linger on hers meaning so much to the both of them, conveying more than any spoken words would ever be able to, was the final hit that completely fought any remaining fears away, shooing them from deep within the cryptic caverns of hearts and minds.

"Don't," Sydney whispered, when he had pulled back enough to let that word squeeze between them, effectively putting an end to his explanation, his apology, before it even had a chance to leave his lips. He should have known.

A shy smile cracked through the foundation of her serious visage, the most beautiful structural flaw Vaughn had ever seen. It was at that instant that he knew she had felt the same way, crazy with worry for his safety while thoughts of hers had run rampant through his own head, playing over and over like the most gruesome of horror movies, without the luxury of the stop button. They both knew this crawling fear was absurd and unfounded, but as uncontrollable as the rising and setting of the sun; something that stole over them during lonely nights, when the other wasn't there to be pulled closer, to calm the butterflies that flew wildly through their stomachs.

He couldn't resist pulling her closer again, reveling in the way she fell so naturally against him, how her head fit right in the crook of his neck as if they were two long-lost puzzle pieces that had finally been pulled from the couch cushions, brushed free of dust and crumbs, and snapped back together.

"I couldn't fall asleep without you," Sydney mumbled into his neck, knowing how silly that would have sounded to anyone else, but that he understood. She didn't need to tell him how she had sat awake for hours, finally giving in, getting up and grabbing his sweatshirt and opening the window, letting the soft cotton comfort her when he could not and the then gentle patter of rain serve as her lullaby. Only then, when she had curled up on the bed, had exhaustion stolen over her, drooping eyelids over red eyes, and launching her into a fitful, restless sleep. "And I had the worst dream. I was home alone with Gabe, and… Gabriel!"

She rocketed upward, nearly smashing the top of her head into his chin with the sheer force of her motion. Before Vaughn had a chance to comprehend what was going on, to open his mouth to say anything, Sydney was struggling to release herself from his hold, a string of half phrases springing from her tongue and bombarding his ears.

"Oh God… It has to be… He must have…"

"Shh, Syd," Vaughn murmured, comforting her just as he had their son earlier.

Overcome with the fatigue his screams had caused, the little boy had succumbed to sleep in the safety of his father's arm; Vaughn shifted, lifting the child forward so that she could see him. Gabriel woke with the movement, whimpering softly in question, suddenly afraid and wondering what was going on. Sydney had been so distracted, so overwhelmed, and still so exhausted, that she hadn't even noticed he was there.

"He's right here."

The glowing numbers on the alarm clock threw just enough light for Vaughn to see the gleam of Sydney's eyes as they jumped from the child to the baby monitor beside the bed, noticing at once that the telltale red light was not on. He couldn't see the furrows lining her forehead, but knew they were there, felt the whoosh of her hand rising to press against them as she shook her head.

"I'm such an awful mother…"

Vaughn chuckled softly, handing the little boy to his mother and leaning forward to lay a gentle kiss against her temple. He could feel the tension there, starting in the slight wrinkles on her forehead and radiating outward, the most trivial of changes in pressure and blood flow, enough to let him know that she wasn't joking.

"No, you're not," he added, because words were necessary at this moment, because he had seen her with their baby so many times before, had stared in wonder at how natural it looked, at how wonderful she was. Because he saw her now, how the child fit seamlessly into her arms, snuggled against her and seemed to sigh with relief and satisfaction before nosing his way into her chest, his tiny mouth sucking at the air.

Without a word, Vaughn took the little boy from her, propping a pillow against the headboard of the bed as she took off his sweatshirt, readying herself to feed Gabriel. They had performed this routine so many times before that the actions became second nature, that they could do it as perfectly under the cover of darkness as they could in penetrating daylight.

"Thank you, Michael…"

Her murmured words were so soft that they were almost nothing more than a whisper of wind in the rain, hardly stood a chance amongst the furious crashing of the tempest raging outside the comfort of their home. But as hushed as her words were, they still tripped their way to this ears, knew the path by heart and would have fought tooth and nail to reach their destination, to be heard over the loudest of roars.

She whispered them to Vaughn as he handed Gabriel back to her, the little boy eagerly partaking in his meal, the soft sounds of his sucking and swallowing mingling with Sydney's soft voice and the rain. There was something about the way she had said those three words, something more than the fact that she had used his first name, that offered up her gratitude for more than any of the actions he had performed in the past few minutes. Something that…

"For coming home."

A smile crept across his lips, tickling the corners upward and ending in a brilliant flash of teeth, the baring of his soul to hers. His first thought was trite and stupid, so much so that he almost didn't say it, embarrassment flickering through his smile, tugging it within the boundaries of shyness. But he could never keep anything from her, no matter how seemingly insignificant or silly, whatever it might be. She wouldn't laugh. She would understand.

"You are my home. Both of you."

Sydney didn't disappoint him; didn't laugh, just as he had foreseen. Her eyes never left his for a moment, linking and locking one to the other, wallowing in his depths without even trying to find her way out. A slight sparkle glinted in the corners of her own dark orbs, a trace of tears as she tried to swallow the emotion that billowed in her throat, compounding itself into a greater and greater lump with each passing second, every beat of her heart.

Carefully, tenderly, Vaughn leaned forward, brushing his lips against her forehead, her cheek, and ending his short but satisfying journey on her mouth, lingering there longer than he had anywhere else, softly letting her know just how much he had missed her, how glad he was to have her back in his arms.

Sydney brought her free hand up to the back of his neck, using it to tug him back to her as he pulled away, placing one last, quick kiss against his lips to ensure herself that she was awake, that this wasn't a fantasy, a dream. Only then was she satisfied, was she able to let any other feeling that wasn't solely him permeate her senses. It was then that her hand perceived the cool dampness of his shirt, and she shivered with this new sensation, surprised that she hadn't felt it before.

"Vaughn honey, you're soaked."

Her voice was filled with such concern that he couldn't help but smile, pulling away without a word, removing his wet shirt on the way to the dresser and finding a clean t-shirt in one of the drawers. Changing quickly, he returned to the bed, sitting beside her and putting an arm around her shoulder, the fingers on his other hand playing with their son's.

Within a few minutes, Sydney's head had dropped onto his shoulder and Gabriel's eyes had fluttered closed, his sucking motions slowing, becoming almost too much of an effort. Vaughn was able to pull a blanket up around the three of them before his head fell softly on top of Sydney's and he let the delicious haze of sleep overtake him.

The time that the three of them spent there, wrapped around and in one another, weaving in and out of each other's dreams, was truly a slice of paradise. A sweet taste of heaven that unfortunately soured too soon, the shrill ringing of the phone startling them out of their dreams and curdling any of the satisfaction that such a sleep would have brought them later in the morning...

~~~

"So…"

It had to have been at least the twentieth time that Weiss had attempted to begin conversation with that exact same word. With each of those last eighteen times, when they had been on the plane at least, he had trailed off uncomfortably and stared out the window, twiddled his thumbs, or pretended to be extremely interested in the only half-read report that sat in front of the both of them.

Once, he had asked what Vaughn was reading, but all he had gotten in response was an unintelligible grunt, presumably the title, and a lifting of the book so that he could read the cover himself. Vaughn had been on page 247 ever since he had picked up the book two hours ago and let it fall open in his lap; both men were aware of this, Weiss had practically memorized the page and was itching for him to turn it, but neither had commented.

The first time had been the farthest they had gotten, and something resembling a conversation had ensued, if it could even be given that indistinct label.

"So…"

"Yeah?"

"Can you believe that they kill…?"

"I really don't want to talk about it right now."

"Yeah, but she was only an old…"

Weiss had trailed off then, not daring to go any further. Vaughn, or his eyes rather, had gotten the last word, his glare making any speech unnecessary. If Weiss had wondered how they were going to complete their assignment without speaking about it, he had been smart enough not to ask. Or perhaps, in this rare case, his lack of speech was what could have been looked on as stupidity.

They had sat the entire flight in a bordering-on-uncomfortable quiet, the only words spoken were those that hadn't mattered in the least: something about the weather, Weiss' eating habits, and, surprisingly, the economy of Russia. This near-silence had remained unbroken as they had disembarked and gotten into the waiting van.

Vaughn's eyes were now glued on the tiny piece of windshield he could see from his seat in the back, watching the white landscape bump along, eerily calm after the brutal beating wind, snow and ice had inflicted just hours ago, almost cheerfully picturesque.

Almost.

Another mission... He hadn't even been allowed more than a few hours with Sydney and Gabriel wrapped snugly in his arms before the phone had rung shrilly, at the cruel hour of 8 o'clock in the morning. He had answered quickly, before the sound could startle Gabriel to screaming, grumbling a less than pleased hello. Sydney had been close enough to hear every word spoken on the other end, her eyes widening just as his did, her sharp gasp echoing along with his own less apparent intake of air.

It had taken a few moments for hardly a handful of quiet words to replace the beating silence that had hung thickly in the air, following the echoing click of the phone being placed back on its receiver. Neither of them could believe it, neither had dared to move until…

"Vaughn?"

The moment, her tone childish tone as she whispered to him, this hurried conversation, repeated in his mind throughout the entire plane ride, stretching through the long hours. She had only said his name in that way a few times in the past and still it chilled him, even when, at that moment, she had been further from danger than she had any time before.

"Sydney…"

Her full name. As if he had been whispering a prayer to her panting breaths over the com-link, as if he hadn't held both her and their son in his arms at that moment, as if she had been a million miles away. Because the moment had called for it, they had both still been too stunned and confused for anything else.

"Did they really say…?"

She had twisted her face up to intercept his gaze and let her eyes take over, piercing his irises to finish her question and receiving a soft nod in reply. Fingers entwining as both of their unlinked hands had whispered caresses over their son's soft skin in silent agreement and heartfelt tenderness. And they had pretended, for just a moment, that time had been nonexistent, a thing of the past, never again to be remembered.

He had had to leave immediately, wouldn't have had enough time to shower and pack if Sydney hadn't been ready with his clothes, both those he was to wear and the few he had to bring with him. He had departed, not twenty minutes after receiving the call, with two kisses, one placed gently on his son's forehead, and the second longer, more lingering one playing against Sydney's lips.

Neither of them had said anything about how they didn't want him to leave, how they had wished more than anything that he didn't have to, that it was absurd for him to have to go on another mission so soon. Because this, this assignment, this mission, whatever the CIA had chosen to call it… this was different…

"So, yeah…"

Weiss was apparently trying to spice things up, add some new flavor to an old favorite. The addition of that second word seemed to give him more strength, firmer resolution. He didn't look away this time, his eyes glued on Vaughn's, expectant, almost accusing. Both of them knew what he was talking about, the one thing they had been avoiding. But now the van had come to a stop, and they were going to have to confront the issue in a matter of seconds.

"What?"

It was more a sigh than anything else, and Vaughn's hand reaching up to rub his eyes spoke deeper than the word itself. Tired from lack of sleep and too much thinking; frustrated, overwrought, and still more than a little confused, Vaughn opened the backdoor of the van and stepped out, remembering to pull his jacket on only because the wind started to bite at his flesh and he could see his breath crystallizing in the air. To say that the phone call, this mission, had been unexpected was quite the understatement.

Scrambling out of the back of the van, more excited than anything now that he was going to have someone to talk to, that they weren't going to have to play the silent game anymore, Weiss almost tripped over himself and would have surely ended up facedown in the snow. But he caught his balance at the last second and, rubbing his hands up and down his arms as the two of them stood gazing at the building before them, he let a jumble of words pant their way past his lips.

"I bet you never thought this would happen, huh?"

In his excitement to speak, he had completely forgotten everything he had wanted to say and settled for an Understatement of the Year contender. He had been preparing it all through the plane ride, and had certainly had more than enough time to perfect his little monologue. It had been on target to be his best speech to date, even beating those he had given concerning the fine line of protocol, and his tips on how to secure a place among the ladies. But all of that seemed to have frozen in the frigid air, his mind numb already, reeling with the sudden intrusion of actual thought.

He didn't wait for Vaughn to answer him, knowing that more than likely his friend wouldn't and a raised eyebrow or a roll of the eyes would stand in the place of any real response. Luckily, something caught Weiss' attention, allowing for a much needed sidestep in conversation. "What are we doing at the police station?"

It should have been a simple question, would have been if he had paid any attention to the details of his quick phone briefing. Racking his brain for anything that could serve as an answer, Vaughn started forward, buying some time before coming up with a response that would make any sense, remembering one of the paragraphs of the briefing he had actually glanced at on the plane. "We don't want to cause any problems. We're letting law enforcement have jurisdiction on this one. They're going to take us to the scene and show us around the house."

"Oh yeah…" Weiss mumbled, trailing off and wishing that he had actually finished the report instead of spending all that time on the plane planning a now forgotten speech and staring out the window. He had let Michael Vaughn show him up once again.

They entered the building, showing their badges to the officer at the door and nodding in thanks as he rose from his seat and led them down the hallway. Weiss' eyes flitted around their surroundings, running over the stark uniforms and nearly sterile orderliness of the place, jumping around crazily as he tried to take everything in. All Vaughn could see was the brightly waxed floor and the heels of the officer marching in front of him, eyes glued to the floor as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable, for what he knew was to come. He had to maintain a certain level of decorum, remain professional, couldn't let emotion get in the way and…

"Hey Mike," Weiss whispered, seemingly afraid to raise his voice since the place was so quiet, pulling on Vaughn's sleeve and shaking him from deep within the confines of his mind. "Do you think he'll recognize you?"


Vaughn didn't get a chance to answer. In two steps worth of time, they had stopped in front of an open doorway, the officer's knock interrupting a quick and loud conversation that Vaughn didn't hear, but wouldn't have been able to understand even if he had; a stampede of harsh-sounding Russian and angry tones that fell on deaf ears before breaking off into silence.

There he was.

A living, breathing ghost of months past, a part of life that he and Sydney had reluctantly had to leave behind, that under the circumstances was almost painful to have to see again.

A little older, a little bigger, but Vaughn would have known him anywhere. It was strange to be able to say. After all, the amount of time he had seen him was miniscule in comparison to other things, only a blip on the calendar of a lifetime. But that sweet little face, those dark, sad eyes…

The answer to Weiss' question was unnecessary the second they appeared in the doorway. Suddenly ringing through Vaughn's ears, the phantom of a sound he had once never dreamed of hearing and then just as quickly had thought he would never hear again.

Dribbling with tears as it had been that first time, a statement, a question, a plea; encompassing so many emotions that it was impossible to say which was dominant. Fear flitting between the letters, confusion clouding their sounds, sadness pealing through the tone, giving way to what might have been surprise, frustrated anger, happiness, strangled relief… or a curious mixture of the spectrum that was nearly cataclysmic in its trembling, but somehow potent delivery…

"Bahn?"