Rhapsody

caz: Thanks so much. I'm glad you thought it was worth the wait. I'm not quite sure if this one is, but we shall see… Ugh, the last essay I wrote, I think I redid parts of it a dozen times. Thank God that's over. I hope you did well on yours… Thanks again for taking the time to write such a nice review. :)

Natalie: Haha, you're welcome, I think… ;) Hmm, daughters… Thanks for reviewing!

valley-girl2: First, let's get one thing straightened away: You do not return a fraction of whatever happiness I give to you. You return it at least tenfold… And don't worry about not having the time to review. You do what you can, and you've done more than enough already… Titles… eh, I just find a word that sorta, kinda works. Sometimes it's just one that I want (or will go out of my way) to try to use. Like 'lollygagging' ;) It's fun (I'm an English major. I get my kicks how I can) Ooh, and I'm just re-reading what you wrote about that title (it's been awhile), and I'm not thinking you're going to appreciate the ending of this chapter, but… As always, thank you so much for taking what has to be an immense amount of time for one of your amazing reviews. I just love them.

LoopyLu1: Thank you so much for taking the time to review! :)

Sorry for the wait again, everyone. Had to finish up all the school stuff and then get my wisdom teeth out. But now summer is here, and I finally have free time to write. The rest of the chapters shouldn't take nearly as these last few have…

Chapter 8: Jeopardy

"How're they doing?" Vaughn asked, glancing into the rearview mirror even though Sydney had already swiveled around to check the two little passengers in the backseat.

With their heads tilted in opposite directions, eyes closed, Gabriel's mouth working furiously on his pacifier and Ilya's fingers brushing absently over his face as he sucked his thumb, the children were the utter picture of perfection. It had only been three days, and it was strange how absolutely normal it was to look back and see two car seats, to turn him to them in every statement, twist a simple Gabe into Gabe'n'Ilya, as if the two children were long lost twins, two parts of the same whole, had grown up together all of their short lives.

"Still sleeping," Sydney answered, even though she knew he was as aware of it as she was. Turning back around and offering him a wry smile, she settled into her seat with a sigh. "Maybe instead of putting them to bed tonight, we should just go for a drive."

Vaughn chuckled softly, glad that he had gotten that response. With anyone other than Sydney, that statement would have been a complaint, the sigh emitted along with it bordering on annoyance. But he had seen her face whenever one of their little boys cried out at night, caught the gleam of sorrow lurking in her eyes even now at the mere thought of one of Ilya's heart-wrenching sobs.

In the few short days he had been with him, they had both memorized the shriek that always accompanied one of Ilya's nightmares, would have been able to pick it out of a roomful of screams just as they could with any of Gabriel's cries. A plea, a strangled sob, a scream for help; it was a sound that could pierce even the hardest heart and melt it into a warm, sticky goo, wreaked indescribable havoc on the two of theirs, pureeing them almost beyond use or recognition.

That such a small child had already had such unhappiness in his life, that there was nothing they could do to prevent the demons that lurked behind his closed eyelids from rearing their ugly heads… It had only been a few nights, but already more than once, Vaughn had taken Sydney into his arms after they had lulled the little boy back to sleep, had felt her shoulders shake against him, the deep breaths threatening to split her lungs as she tried to hide her tears. He would run his hand up and down her arm, kiss her shoulder softly, repeatedly, not stopping until she turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck, let her hot tears dampen the skin at his throat, and…

"We're almost there." He smiled reassuringly as he said it, but she wouldn't make eye contact, instead shifting in her seat, seeming unable to find a comfortable position and giving up with a small sigh.

There was something about that noise that he couldn't exactly put his finger on, something that made that particular sigh different from the one he had heard just moments before. It was another symbol in the unspoken language that only the two of them could understand, as powerful as a well-chosen verb, as telling as any adjective, as helpful as every article, or as necessary as the Wheel of Fortune standbys: R, S, T, L, N, and E.

"Syd, what's wrong?"

The day had started out well enough. They had left the apartment mid-morning, packed and ready for a weekend with Vaughn's mother. Smiles had abounded at first; they had tried for what seemed like the millionth time to get Ilya to speak, repeating Gabriel's name over and over, and only getting their own in return. But as the two little boys had fallen asleep and the numbers ticked steadily upwards on the odometer, Sydney's smile had slowly started to slip away.

He had wanted to write it off as tiredness, had suggested that she close her eyes for a while. She had agreed with a nod, but kept them open; he had noticed, but hadn't said a word. That had been over an hour ago and her half-teasing response to his question had practically been the first thing she had said since then. She parted her lips to answer him, but Vaughn shook his head to prevent her words, taking his eyes off the road for half a second in order to search for hers.

"And don't say 'nothing.'" His tone was soft but firm, his words holding all the power and meaning of Don't lie to me… without the sickening, fist-to-the-stomach thud that would have accompanied those four. Taking a hand from the steering wheel, he quickly found hers, needing to feel her, wanting her to understand. "Please."

His voice, his touch stirred something deep within her, luring her smile out of hiding and parading it to her lips as she couldn't help but grin at his obvious concern, squeezing his hand both in thanks and reassurance. He thought for a moment that that was the only answer she was going to give him, but she surprised him yet again.

"Do you think I look okay in this?" she asked, gesturing to flowered skirt and simple top she had chosen that morning. "Maybe I should have…"

"Syd," Vaughn stopped her, laughter and relief threading its way though the letters of her name, glad that not only had he gotten to the source of her troubles, but it was something so simple. She could have been wearing a potato sack and he could have told her in all honesty that she was absolutely stunning. There was just no question about it. "You look fine. Beautiful."

He kissed her fingertips and for the moment that was all the reassurance she needed. With that one simple gesture he had cast a spell over her, one bubbling to the brim with truth and light, that would never break as long as they both lived. She was powerless when it came to him, even with the simplest of actions, the softest of whispers, the lightest of touches of his skin to hers.

He only needed to murmur her name to entice the rest out of her, his voice entrancing her, becoming the spinning wheel needle that she couldn't have resisted for pain of death itself. "Syd?"

"I know I've met your mother before and she stayed with us after Gabriel's birth, but…" Sydney paused and took a deep breath, preparing both herself and Vaughn for the onslaught. "I think we were engaged only weeks after she even knew I existed, and the first time she laid eyes on me was moments after giving birth to her son's child. She knows we haven't been exactly… chaste. And probably thinks I've corrupted you beyond…"

"Sydney…" Vaughn cut her off, stopping the car and turning quickly to frame her face with his hands, holding her in place so she couldn't turn from his gaze. "First of all, I grew up with my mother; she knew me in high school. If anything, she thinks I've corrupted you. Secondly, you've already started to help her attain her lifelong dream of having a hundred grandchildren. She's crazy about Gabe. And third, you're gorgeous. Right now, in your pajamas, after just giving birth... Always…"

He paused his speech for a moment, watching the color that crept into her cheeks with his words. He had her undivided attention, had captivated her completely from the moment he said her name. His thumbs began to brush back and forth along her cheeks, and he knew he had to finish before he…

"My mother loves you. I love you…"

Only seven more words before he surrendered, letting his voice trail off as he kissed her softly, quickly, his lips barely sweeping against hers for more than a moment before he pulled away, just far enough to allow a breath of air between them.

"…And we're here."

Letting go of her and settling back into his seat, he watched as she slowly swiveled to take in the view, loving the thousands of expressions that ran across her face in that single second, the way her lips parted and her eyes widened as if by doing so they could capture more of the scene that surrounded them.

"Vaughn… You never told me…"

Perhaps the eighteen years he had spent under its roof had numbed him to the beauty of his childhood home. Perhaps he thought every American citizen on the West Coast had grown up with the Pacific Ocean literally in their backyard. Perhaps he had never really bothered to open his eyes.

"It's just a house," he shrugged.

And from a man's point of view, that's probably all it was. But Sydney had the differing chromosome and hormones allowing her to see beyond the wooden walls and shingled roof. It was a house, but one that must have leapt straight from the pages of a pop-up fairytale. Big enough to comfortably accommodate a growing family, small enough so that none of its inherent quaintness was lost; this was the kind of house that dreams were made of, that maybe she and Vaughn would…

A click jolted her back to reality, as Vaughn opened his door and invited the sound of the ocean to their ears. Fumbling his way out of the car, eyes unable to move from her to watch where he was going, he somehow found his way to the back and opened the door, a small whimper immediately focusing his attention elsewhere.

Gabriel's eyes blinked open, revealing the same hazel that Vaughn had fallen in love with that very first day. The child yawned sleepily, his pacifier falling from his mouth as he tried to stretch within the constraints of his car seat, quickly giving up and staring up at his father as if to plead with him to get him out of there.

"Hey little guy…" Vaughn mumbled, fingers slipping as they felt their way over the straps and buckles. He heard a door open and shut, but didn't dare take his eyes from his little boy as he tenderly unbuckled him from the car seat.

Sydney could have done it much quicker; they both knew that. Vaughn was always so insanely afraid of pinching or harming their son in any way that it took him nearly twice as long. But as impatient as they both could be at times, she never pushed him away to do it herself, content to watch him, as she was even now, mesmerized every time he performed this simple task.

Both engaged as they were in Vaughn's actions, they didn't even have the children out of the car before a now familiar voice fluttered through the wind. "Where's my grandson and his beautiful mother?"

With his son finally unbuckled, Vaughn tore his eyes away from him to meet Sydney's across the backseat, smiling at her as he lifted Gabriel into his arms. He watched for half a second as she slowly prodded Ilya from sleep with gentle kisses, the drowsy little boy wrapping his arms around her neck and burying his face in her shoulder when she picked him up.

"What about me, Maman?" Vaughn finally asked with a laugh, glancing once more at the little boy in his arms before walking over to his mother and kissing both her cheeks.

Charlotte clicked her tongue and shook her head. "I've known you for over thirty years. But this little one… Oh, he's gotten so big!" She took Gabriel from his arms, showering his little face with kisses as she rocked him back and forth. "Sydney dear, I swear this child gets more beautiful every time I see him. He must take after his mother."

Spinning to face his fiancée, Vaughn had to admit that his mother must be right. With her shy smile and the faint blush that colored her cheeks as she murmured her thanks, Sydney was practically glowing. The way her hair shone in the sun and ruffled gently in the breeze as she exchanged greetings with his mother, locking eyes with his for just a moment before tilting her face downward and trying to coax Ilya out of hiding…

"Michael?" Charlotte asked, nodding in Sydney's direction, "Aren't you going to properly introduce me to Sydney's new young man?"

Vaughn smiled. He had called his mother the other day to inform her of the circumstances and provide her with as much information as he was allowed to divulge. She knew who the little boy was, but was sympathetic enough to their situation to steer it as close to normality as possible. "This," he started, just as the little boy peeked up from Sydney's shoulder, "is Ilya."

"He really does look like he belongs to the two of you," Charlotte mused, examining the child's dark eyes, and the facial features that looked strangely similar to those that had belonged to her own little boy. She ran her free hand through Ilya's dark hair in greeting. "Hello there."

"He doesn't speak much…" Vaughn explained.

"Yet," Sydney added, seeming to need it more for her own reassurance than anything else. They had had this discussion numerous times over the past few days, forgetting each time that the child wasn't theirs, that his speech therapy wasn't part of their responsibility, wasn't something they should have to worry about…

"Ah, the strong silent type," Charlotte responded, offering Ilya a smile. "I'm sure we'll get along famously this weekend. I tidied up your old room a bit if you and Sydney want to stay there, but there's also the guest room, if you'd prefer. You can set all the boys' things in my room. I'll take them nights to give you two a bit of a break this weekend."

Vaughn could sense Sydney's response even before he heard it, knew that she would be able to come up with a million and one reasons why they couldn't let his mother take the children overnight… "Oh, we can't let you…"

"Nonsense, dear. You look like you could use the break, and it's my pleasure, really."

"Vaughn…" Sydney tried again, turning to face him.

One look into her eyes was enough to show him that the anxious, frightened glaze had returned to them, all the comfort that the initial meeting with his mother had brought them, gone. He took Ilya from her and set him on the ground next to his mother. "Maman, can I talk to Sydney for a second?"

He didn't wait for much more than a nod before putting a hand to the small of Sydney's back and leading her just far enough away so they were out of earshot. Even though they had just gained their semi-solitude, the two of them seemed unaware of their small audience as they stood by the car. Vaughn pulled Sydney close, tilting her chin up with the tip of his finger in a gesture more tender than any his mother would have thought him capable of.

Their words were small whispers, easily overwhelmed by the wind and waves, but even so, Charlotte could sense the trailing off of thoughts and half-spoken phrases. Words weren't necessary between a couple so intricately connected that one of them could take a hitching breath a half-mile away and the other would feel it, when just one salty tear could simultaneously sting two different colored eyes. The connection between the two of them that was more powerful than a universe of dynamite, capable of explosions that would thrill and dazzle the mind without causing an instant of chaos or a micron of destruction.

Sydney's head dropped again and she tried to look away, but Vaughn was insistent, pulled her so impossibly close that it would have looked uncomfortable with anyone else, didn't seem like the smallest distance would be close enough for the two of them. A hand was on her cheek, his thumb running underneath her eye as his lips found the smooth skin of her forehead; she leaned into him as if drawn by an irresistible force, as if both their lives depended on it, and the world would perish if they were drawn apart again.

Maybe twenty seconds had passed since the two of them had separated themselves from the others, thirty, perhaps, but certainly no more than that. A few moments were all that was needed for quiet reassurance, all that was necessary for them to convey their love for each other and unconsciously display it to the world.

Charlotte did not want to infringe on whatever moment the two young lovers were sharing, something deeper than even the two of them could understand or their actions could ever express, but somehow couldn't force her eyes away. There was something about Sydney Bristow, a woman she had never met until just over a month ago, that brought out a side of her son that she didn't know had existed, a sweetness and happiness Charlotte would have never thought possible.

It was hard to believe that this was the same little boy who had hid his peas in his milk at dinner, chased the girls clear across the playground, and had attempted to convince her that two in the morning was an appropriate curfew on a school night. It seemed like just yesterday her little Michael was scrunching up his nose, peering up at her with his vivid, green eyes, his tiny voice declaring… Girls are yucky! I'm never ever gonna kiss one, Maman. Scout's honor!…

A sudden tapping against her leg lured Charlotte out of her reverie, and looking downward, she found two dark, serious eyes peering into her own. She grinned down at Ilya, the very same smile that had at that exact moment broken from her own son's lips. That familiar smile coupled with a few tender words was all that was needed to convince Ilya to reach for her outstretched hand.

"Bahn," he said pointedly, gazing steadily into her eyes before turning and pointing toward the car where her son and his fiancée were standing.

"That's right," Charlotte nodded, chuckling at first at how the little boy had picked up on Sydney's habit of referring to Michael by his last name, but soon also at how her son's back was now to her as he tried futilely to hide the fact that his lips had found Sydney's just a few feet away from where they were standing.

Shaking her head, murmuring something about trying not turning into his father and bending to kiss the tip of Gabriel's nose, Charlotte straightened and called out, "Michael?"

He had been so rapt in getting to the heart of Sydney's fears, finally convincing her that they were not putting his mother in an awkward position with Ilya's presence, that she had had enough experience with the CIA to know which questions to ask and which to let alone, that she loved children more than anything and would treat both Ilya and Gabriel as if they were her own, and most importantly, that the most danger they were putting the two boys in by leaving them with his mother was a Jeopardy! overdose.

Sydney had finally relented, agreed to relax and enjoy their mini-vacation, had tried to apologize for being so anxious, had wanted to explain that she didn't know what was wrong with her today, that with Ilya here, she had so much on her mind. But she hadn't gotten further than the first syllable of sorry before he tore the word from her lips with his own, effectively wrenching the rest from within her, tugging her deeper within him so that they had both forgotten everything else, hadn't even been able to hear the crashing waves or the whisper of wind.

His mother's voice had startled them both, Sydney pulling quickly from him and lowering her head bashfully. But Vaughn only smiled, bringing his lips to her ear and whispering, "We've been caught," before pulling away and turning to face his mother.

"Oui, Maman?" he asked sweetly, his best dutiful-son smile lighting his face as he put his arm around Sydney and led her closer to where his mother and the children were waiting.

But Charlotte waved them off, nodding in the direction of the ocean. "It's supposed to rain later today. Why don't you go show Sydney the beach now?"

Sydney opened her mouth to protest, but Vaughn only had to tilt his head closer to hers and she swallowed her words, issuing new ones in their place. "Thanks, Charlotte. I'd like that."

"Have a good time, dear. And you both had better bring back your appetites. The boys and I will have lunch ready for you when you come back."

After a few lingering kisses on chubby little cheeks, and last-minute instructions, Sydney and Vaughn found themselves walking barefoot along the beach, fingers linked tightly. The murmurs of water and wind were all that was spoken until the Vaughn house was almost out of view.

"It's not supposed to rain, is it?" Sydney asked after a moment.

Vaughn could sense the soft hesitation in her voice, knew that doubt hadn't allowed them much time and was already beginning to creep up on her. He turned his face upward, letting the rays of sunlight warm him and glancing up at the cloudless, blue sky. He could try to convince her that his mother must have heard the weather report, must have known something about it that they did not, or…

"I don't think so." He couldn't remember giving his neck the signal to move, but there it was, turning of its own accord, lining up so his eyes had a perfect view of her profile. "But I think my mother knew I had something I wanted to show you."

Sydney didn't miss a beat, raising an eyebrow, the corners of her lips curling up in laughter. "She knows about the secret spot where you take all your girlfriends to 'watch the sunrise'?" Her free hand danced before them, making the quotation marks in the air, the other not bothering to move, not daring to leave his grasp.

"God, I hope not…" His teasing tone matched hers as he appeared to consider the horror of this predicament, but soon all the laughter tripped from his voice. His next words were quiet, and when she turned to face him, she found his cheeks just on the verge of blushing. "But I've never taken anyone here."

Her fingers pressed a little tighter against his with that, her head finding his shoulder as they slowly traipsed their way along the shore. He had left her without words once again, but she had grown used to it, yielded to speechlessness instead of struggling to tell him how she felt; one of the few times Sydney Bristow would ever give in without a fight.

"Vaughn," Sydney began again after a moment, a new seriousness in her voice as she lifted her head off his shoulder, "what do you think will happen to Ilya?"

The CIA hadn't been idle during their brief vacation; it just didn't appear as if there was anything to find. Whoever or whatever had terminated the child's grandmother had been careful not to leave many clues. The only piece of information that they had thus far been able to secure without much difficultly was the fact that the boy's paternal grandparents refused to even acknowledge his existence. As far as they were concerned, their son had died the moment he had run off with "that woman;" they saw no reason to resurrect his memory now.

"Honestly," Vaughn answered, turning slightly to catch a glimpse of her, in time to see her other hand come up and attempt to brush her wind-swept hair from her face. He knew that his first word was unnecessary, that they both knew he would never give her anything but an honest answer. "I don't know."

"It's already been three days…"

Three days with the four of them pretending that they all belonged; eating breakfast, lunch and dinner at the kitchen table; putting their little boys to bed with kisses and lullabies; walking through the park and half-heartedly accepting the compliments of passersby about their "perfect little family"…

Three days where the little boy had once again wormed his way into their hearts, securing his place within them without much more than a breath. Toddling around one step behind them wherever they went, not letting them out of his sight; mumbling both of their names with botched perfection; appointing himself little Gabriel's protector and standing continual guard over the infant as if his life depended on it...

Three days that were already stretching out into four, that they simultaneously wanted and didn't want to extend. They wished it could be forever, that this fantasy life would blend into and become reality. But if it wasn't, if it couldn't be, if and when they had to give him back…

The longer he stayed, the harder it was going to be when they had to let him go.

"Syd…" Vaughn stopped, reaching to take her other hand in his own, tug her body so that it was flush against his, so that they were breathing the same breath and he could see through her eyes straight into her heart. "Let's…" He fumbled, paused, knowing what he wanted to say, but not able to get the words out. They stuck in his throat, were barely more than a whisper when he forced them forward. "Let's pretend this is a normal vacation."

Normal. It was really all she had ever wanted. A term that somehow seemed just out of her grasp at all times, even once she thought she had a firm hold on it. Slippery as the weeds at the bottom of a pond, faster than the little minnows, always able to slip through the chubby fingers of five year olds, swim just inches out of their reach…

And as much as she would love to believe that they were nothing more than a young couple that had taken their two small children to visit grandma, she knew that they could never…

"Syd?"

She smiled at the soft way he mumbled her name, barely loud enough to be heard over the waves, soaked with so much concern that all the oceans in the world would have been filled to overflowing. Leaning into him, letting his arms wrap around her, his body hold her up, and his scent become the very air she breathed, she sighed her answer into his chest. "Okay."

Vaughn let those two syllables wrap around him, her voice fill every corner of his being. For a moment, he simply stood there, holding Sydney in his arms, letting the world carry on without him. With anyone else, it would have quickly become tiresome; the weight in his arms and sighing silence wouldn't have been enough. But with her… there was a satisfaction that was inexplicable, that he swore he could hear and smell and taste. Something so intense that it almost scared him, that he almost didn't want to think about lest he overanalyze and rationalize it away.

His hand was still running lazy circles over her back a few moments later as her breathing began to steady, whisper against him in rhythm with the waves. He tilted his face downward to find where hers was hidden in the folds of his shirt. She felt his eyes on her even before his breath murmured in her ear, and her hand left his chest to brush against his cheek.

"Tired?"

It was almost a rhetorical question, one of the millions he would ask over his lifetime simply to hear the sweet sound of her voice in reply. Still adjusting to parenthood, they had both been tired before Ilya had arrived, but now that they had two small children to care for, the weariness seemed to have increased exponentially. Between Gabriel's nightly feedings and Ilya's nightmares, the shrieks of one waking the other…

"Mmm," she sighed into him, rubbing her face into his shirt like a sleepy child before pulling back a few inches. "But I'm okay."

"Think you can make it a little farther?" There was a hint of teasing laughter in his voice, but she knew that it was only for appearances; the concern snaking through it was nearly overpowering, had wound its way around each and every letter, almost squeezing any other emotion from existence.

Sydney parted her lips to respond, but found her mouth empty of anything that could have resembled coherent speech, could only nod in answer to his question. She let him lead her a little further down the water's edge, silence following them for a few more minutes until he came to a sudden, unexpected stop.

"This is it," Vaughn murmured, pulling her close. "This is where my dad used to take us in the summer, just before the sun went down. We went here almost every night I can remember, until…"

He felt her breath catch almost before he paused, knew that the pang that went through his own heart created a stabbing ache that was ten times stronger in her own, fueled by a sickening, uncontrollable guilt, one of the hurdles they still had to work their way past together.

The murmuring waves transformed into words, her soft voice finding its way to his ears. "You don't have to…"

"No, Syd…"

His voice was harsh with choked emotion, but his intended sweetness twisted its way through. Brushing his lips against her temple both in comfort and silent apology, he willed himself to shake all sadness from the moment. Later there would be time to bring sorrow back into the air, to open old wounds so they could be re-cleaned and checked for infection; but not now.

"My dad would always stop right at this spot," he continued, glancing at the ground and gently tugging her a few feet further, "pull my mother into his arms and start to dance."

He mimicked the actions as he spoke of them, as if he were incapable of stopping them, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sydney rested her head on his shoulder, letting him slowly lead her to the sound of music that she foolishly thought wasn't there. But they were moving to a rhythm stronger than any other, that no one else on that beach would have been able to pick out with even the most acute sense of hearing; not to the tempo of the waves, but the tandem melody of their own heartbeats.

"I would laugh at them. Shout that they were silly, that there was no music, and run into the water."

His words vibrated softly in her hair, their dance leading them into the sea, neither noticing that Vaughn's pants were soaked almost to the knees or that the salt water was beginning to lap at Sydney's skirt; neither would have cared even if they had.

"I never got it. Even years afterwards. How they could dance without music, with people watching… and just not care…"

As he moved, his eyes forced themselves closed. He felt Sydney in his arms, knew she was beside him, within him… but suddenly neither of them were there… He was peering up from waist-height at his mother and father, the wrinkles and worry removed from both their faces, the last rays of light showing them nothing but each other.

"You're getting wet! You're getting wet!"

His own little voice chortled around them, but they didn't hear it. They didn't feel the drops of water that his six-year-old hands were splashing onto them, didn't notice the attention they were receiving from the other beach patrons, how their son's hands had found their way to his hips, his lower lip sticking out in a perfect pout.

"Please, Maman! Papa! Everybody's watching…"

He could remember his own little eyes darting around then, catching on the stares and smiles of the few who surrounded them, the man with the crooked tooth, the old couple hand in hand on the shore, the three teenagers further out in the water, focusing only on this unwanted attention and not understanding that nothing was wrong. His skinny arms pumped up and down, his legs running as fast as they could underwater, tripping over the waves as he scurried away, hurriedly dunking his head under and bobbing back up with his hands pointed into a fin.

"I'm a shark! I'm a shark!"

If his mother and father ever cared that their lives were in imminent danger due to this shark attack, he never knew it. Once he had pretended to drown to see if that would get their attention; it had, but it had also earned him a scolding when they had learned that he was kidding. He had had to sit, shivering, on the sand, and they had continued their dance as they always had, until after the sun went down…

Sydney stirred against him, gazing up to make sure that he was all right, that his silence was not cause for concern. Vaughn stopped moving then, smiling softly down at her and pulling just far enough away so he could look clearly into her eyes, drinking greedily from their chocolate depths.

"I never got it, Syd," he repeated, pausing, his voice unconsciously lowering to a decibel almost below the human capabilities of hearing, that the beating of their hearts could nearly drown out. "Until now…"

With just the right twist of tone, the right amount of faint sweetness, spoken in such a way that only he could manage, those few words encompassed thousands of others, capturing and trailing them in their wake so that none of the others were required. In a breath he had told her how much he wanted her, needed her, loved her; mumbled without the words, that one day, the two of them would stand on this very spot with Gabriel and Il…

"Vaughn…"

She was barely able to make it past the first letter of his name, her voice cracking, breaking and tripping over the rest of the sounds, letting them tumble softly into his chest as she buried her face in his shirt. But he didn't need her to finish, wouldn't let her hide. Tipping her chin upward as he had before, he caught her lips with his own, seizing the moment as if it would be his last.

He pulled away breathless, only because he couldn't bring himself to deprive her of air for a second longer, knowing she needed it, no matter how hard she tried to convince both of them otherwise. She cocked her head to the side as she caught her breath, squinting through the sunlight and the strands of her hair that the wind had blown into her face.

Sweeping the stray wisps behind her ear, he brushed his mouth against hers, pressing the few words he had managed to capture into her lips. "Syd, I…"

There were so many things he wanted to tell her, that he needed tell her. He hadn't even stopped to think that the next five seconds, minutes, years, lifetimes wouldn't be enough to get even a fraction of them across. The feeling hit him with a rush, overwhelming, nearly terrifying in its intensity, the very thought that he could live his entire life and never even begin to relay to her…

…These past few days… few months… few years that I've known… cherished… respected… adored… loved… Sydney, I… Being near you, with you… Seeing you in Gabriel's eyes… Our son, Sydney. Ours… Syd, I…

Silken strings of thought that would snap the moment he thought he had a firm grasp on one, had gained the ability to at least tell her the tiniest portion of his thoughts and feelings. But even that proved impossible while they raced through his mind at a disturbing rate, banging and clanging one against the other until they progressed to a nearly steady ringing that for some reason was oddly familiar.

Sydney's expression had changed, her mouth moving, forming words that… "… should get that. It could be your mother."

Mechanically, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, turning it on and answering as if someone else held the strings that controlled his body, determined his every move, was projecting something that sounded like a strangled version of his voice. "Hello?"

Pausing and mouthing "your dad" to Sydney, he turned from her and attempted to move out of her grasp, not sure what Jack intended to relay and not wanting anything that might startle Sydney to… "Actually, we're at my… oh…"

Sydney watched him curiously, noticing how his forehead wrinkled just slightly, his grip on her hand tightened just enough to be considered barely noticeable. The conversation was hurried, not lasting more than thirty seconds and ending without a hint of a goodbye, a quick "Right away… I understand" standing in its place.

The slightest of pauses flitted through the salty air after he re-pocketed his phone. Just enough to tell her that his small smile and calm "We should probably go back" was a foiled attempt to hide the truth, knew that he would only ever do that to keep from hurting her…

"What's going on?"

He let her question stand for a handful of heartbeats, letting his eyes skip from her and dance along the horizon before finding their way back. "They need me to bring in Ilya."

"Vaughn," she began, her gaze quizzical, her voice warning, the question she had intended to repeat suddenly unnecessary, framed within that one syllable.

Running his hand slowly through his hair and ending on the back of his neck, the sun that had once been so cheerful and welcoming now glared nearly painfully off the furrows in his forehead. His impending words became superfluous the moment he threaded his trembling fingers through her own. His touch seemed to ignite something within her, sparking instinct with knowledge she suddenly wished she didn't have. When he spoke, his voice was almost too quiet to be heard over the waves and the suddenly intense beating of her heart, rushing the blood through her ears in torrents.

"They uncovered some intel concerning the terrorist cell and Devora Domaslavov. I don't know exactly what yet, but… Your father made it quite clear that letting Ilya out of our sight…" He paused, swallowing, speaking slowly both to gauge her reaction and because the words stuck in his throat, had to hiss their way out of him. "… could be deadly… They want him, Syd. And they don't care who gets in the way."