Rhapsody
Chapter 14: Denouement
The shocked silence that followed Agent Lee's statement was suffocating, weighing down on all of them with such pressure that it would be impossible to take a breath even if they had tried. It shouldn't have been. There should have been murmurs of agreement and nods of the head, a simple Let us know when we need to pack his bags… He wasn't their child, after all.
Sydney and Vaughn, the two agents, the two people, who knew better than anyone what it meant to allow emotions to play where they weren't permitted, had allowed themselves to become too close, to feel where there should have been numbness, to believe that the little boy was their own, would be theirs when this was all over.
They had forgotten. Rule number one, first and foremost before all others: There is no emotion…
But they hadn't wanted to play the game, not again; had promised themselves that they never would, no matter what had happened. Speech and action, thought and reason were all nice in their own ways, had their shining moments along with their pitfalls, the instances and places when only they would seem to work and nothing else would fit. But emotion did not belong among them, was not meant to be plucked from consciousness at only certain times and presented to the world. It lingered below awareness, out of perception and reason's grasp, shone through at both the worst and best moments.
Emotion was life. Pure and simple. They wouldn't let themselves forget that.
And because of it, they had ignored reason, forgotten that in truth, they were doing no more than babysitting, temporarily and without pay, watching the little boy until he could return home, wherever that was. They never considered the strangeness of it, of thinking that the child would have a home somewhere they were not, that they, the two of them and little Gabriel, were not the toddler's home.
Lee cleared her throat, as if the taffy-sticky silence had caught inside and become too much to ignore, continuing without waiting for further acknowledgement, "He had me call them while he was sitting right there. He was speaking to the doctor, but…"
"What did they say?" Sydney asked, her voice harsh as if she had lost it one day and this was the first time she was using it in years. She needed to know whether they were talking hours, minutes, days. How long they would have to figure this all out, to come up with a plan. How many more times she would be able to hear that little voice call out to her and Vaughn, how many more nightmares there were to soothe away and hugs to return before everything melted. She needed to know when the DCFS expected to find a little Russian boy on their doorstep, whether there was a chance that they could apply to become his new family, or…
"Nothing," Lee answered, smiling softly. "I dialed my home number and got the machine. My boyfriend's going to be a little confused if he gets home before I do, but I wanted to tell you…"
The younger agent had disobeyed a direct order, going against her director while he was in the very same room, eyeing her every move. She had bought them time, given them a better chance to get Ilya back, to bring him home where he belonged. There was no way to thank her properly, the words themselves not enough; speaking volumes, but incapable of relaying more than that, eight letters not an adequate amount of fencing to frame all that should be said.
Nevertheless, something that might have been a thank you hissed from between Sydney's lips, coupling with a sigh in the quarter of a second she allowed herself to relax, leaning gently against Vaughn and feeling his hand tighten around hers in understanding. That quarter of a second was all she was allowed before thought kicked into action and emotion overclouded everything, stampeding a herd of wild worries through her head.
Sudden panic and determination took her hand from Vaughn's, his loosening automatically to allow it release, as if he had expected this all along. Holding Gabriel tightly and not waiting for anyone to react or try to stop her, Sydney hurried from the room, nearly bowling over Agent Lee in her hurry to escape, to save her other little boy and scoop him into her arms.
Gabriel whimpered with the sudden movement, and despite how her brain seemed to have shut down to almost everything but this intense, gnawing need, she could hear the tiny noise her son made, would have in the midst of any rushing creak and clatter of movement; even if a sudden tempest had uprooted the building, the panic squealing through her mind transforming into the witch's cackling laughter, and a roaring whirlwind had carried the lot of them off to Oz. There was something about a child's voice, her own child's voice, that spoke to her anywhere and everywhere, a cry she would always hear above all others, would find herself responding to despite a million more pressing needs.
She cradled the infant closer, holding him firmly but tenderly, whispering things that she herself couldn't hear or make out; perhaps soothing sentences, a lullaby, cooing nonsense… it didn't matter what it was, so long as her voice reached her little boy's ears. Gabriel calmed at the sound of it, snuggling against her with a satisfied sigh. His mother was there, would never let him come to harm; he was safe in her arms and that was all that ever mattered.
Somewhere on the edge of consciousness, Sydney heard Vaughn call her name, knew that he had tried to rise and follow her but had been prevented. If she had turned, she would have seen his mother stop him, gently easing her son back into the chair, trying to soothe away his wrinkles of worry as if her little boy were once again before her instead of a full-grown man.
"Sydney."
She wouldn't have stopped if she could have helped it, but there was something about the way that he always spoke her name that got to her, as if there were always a weight behind it, something deadly serious that he was going to impart, or a reprimand in waiting. Her feet slowed a few paces before reaching her father, her tongue shaking from it the only words she could find.
"Devlin called DCFS. They're going to take him."
"He did what?" Jack asked, the last word emphasized, but just barely; the addition of a slight arch to his eyebrows and the light shade of pink that infused his ears evidence of his anger. "I thought I…"
"Dad, I have to talk to Devlin," Sydney quickly cut him off, "convince him that…"
"No."
Though it had not risen beyond its normal tone, Jack's voice was a clap of thunder, the word carrying with it all the electric danger that a single violent bolt of lightning presents to those foolish enough to wait beneath the tallest tree or stand in the middle of the open field during a storm. It stunned Sydney to silence, and she let the crackling hiss of her father's statement hum through the air for a few seconds before regaining her composure. Her eyes narrowed and when she spoke, the vehemence in her own tone was eager to rival what had just been said, fueled greedily by instinct, need and something else that only a mother can possess; each word she spoke was slow and calculated, dripping with the scorching coolness of sudden anger.
"If you think that just because you happen to be my father, you can…"
"No, Sydney," Jack interrupted, so calmly that his words were almost bowled over in her tirade. He sighed before tentatively reaching forward and brushing a hand against his grandson's head. He had seen the boy right after he had been born, of course, had visited a few times since then; but still had yet to get used to the fact that this was his daughter's child, that his little girl was grown up, old enough to… "You have to stay with your son, make sure Vaughn gets proper treatment and…"
She knew that, just as she knew that she needed to breathe, that her heart needed to beat to keep her alive. It was as easy as A progressing to B and continuing through the alphabet, numbers steadily adding themselves so that they were counted in the right order. She didn't need her father or anyone to tell her that the two boys she already had needed her now more than ever, but…
"What about Ilya? I can't just let them take him away."
Her voice was nearing desperation; and she was about as prepared for his response as she was for the apocalypse. It wasn't so much the words themselves that caught her, but the fluid way that he spoke them, as if it were the natural answer to all their problems, something she should have expected in the first place.
"I'll talk to Devlin."
"But Dad, you…" Sydney trailed off, unable to find the words to tell her father that he didn't want it as badly as they did, didn't have passion on his side; he hadn't seemed to care where the boy ended up, had been the one to try to take the child from them that first time…
"He'll be more likely to listen to me than he would to either you or Vaughn," Jack continued logically. He paused and looked his daughter in the eye, his voice soft, edging on hesitant when he spoke again, a drastic contrast to his businesslike words from just a moment before. "The boy means something to you, Sydney… so he means something to me, too."
"Dad…" Sydney began, the nearly tearful way she spoke his name linking perfectly with the shock and wonder that had found its way into her eyes. She wanted to let him know how much that one statement meant to her, to thank him, tell him that nothing else was necessary; he didn't need to drop his guarded demeanor more than he already had, that this, that everything, was more than enough. But as always, at times when they should have been spoken, the words caught in her throat, flies stuck fast to the web of emotion that had suddenly spun itself throughout her insides.
"I know, sweetheart," Jack began softly, momentarily bonding further with his daughter than he ever had, understanding all the words she couldn't speak. He held her gaze as he continued, not one to let the loss of eye contact soften reality, almost as if afraid that if he looked away, his link to her would be broken. "You have to understand, however, that what Devlin has in mind might be the best option for all involved. Given the history of Bykov's group and what has happened over the past few days, it may be safer for everyone if the boy is placed out of your care."
Sydney nodded, knowing that she would have had to face that truth sooner or later, understanding that despite all they did and could do, how hard she fought and kicked and screamed, she might not get Ilya back, they might not get Ilya back. And it might be better that way…if they loved the child enough, and their own child as well, to not put either of them in danger, to give the little boy away.
"I'm not making any promises, Sydney, but I'll do what I can."
And she knew he would, knew he had the potential to fight for her better than she could herself. He had hidden the truth from her before, lied, even; but couldn't this time, not here, not now, not when he spoke so softly and sincerely, was looking directly into her eyes.
"Dad… Thank you."
He put his hand upon her own where it rested on Gabriel in a surprising gesture that was as near a hug as Jack Bristow would get inside the CIA building. Sydney smiled gratefully at him and he returned it, pulling his hand away from hers. Tenderness and emotion went back into hiding with that gesture, not gone completely, but no longer exposed for all to see. His eyes clouded, the familiar detachment returning as Jack quickly went back to business.
"Weiss already left for the hospital. There's another ambulance waiting in the parking garage for…"
"Syd?"
Even when she knew he had been in no immediate danger, that he was just a few doors down the hall, Vaughn's breathless voice sighed relief into her being. It floated anxiously out the door, followed by his pale, hobbling form. He would scour the CIA building on his own two feet to find her if need be, but Sydney made the effort unnecessary, hurrying to his side as he rested against the doorframe.
She fell into his embrace, letting him lean against her to catch his breath. The fingers on one of his hands brushed gently up and down her arm, stealing up her shoulder, across her jaw and circling back down. Gabriel caught his father's hand when it ventured near enough, grasping a finger in his tiny fist and holding tightly. His parents' smiles lingered for a moment or two, fading slowly away with the return of thought.
"You have to go to the hospital, Vaughn," Sydney whispered gently, watching as he let their son play with his finger, careful that he didn't put it in his mouth.
Vaughn moved as if to shake his head, wincing so slightly at the pain this gesture caused him that it was barely perceptible. He didn't know that she had seen it, that that was why she shifted against him, to make sure that he didn't fall. "We should go to Devlin first… We need to… to get him back."
Sydney looked back down the hallway, expecting to find that her father had come closer, ready with the same response that he had just given her. But Jack was gone, either already bent on making their dream a reality or simply leaving the little family alone in the hall.
"My dad's going to get him for us," Sydney murmured, turning back to Vaughn in time to see the look he gave her, biting her lip and speaking her next words softly, spilling the truth as gently as she could. "He's going to try."
"But Syd," Vaughn protested weakly, "he's not…"
… you… me… He's your father. He's… Jack…
She heard the words before he spoke them; the same ones that had been tumbling through her mind when this solution had first been presented. But she silenced him with a soft kiss, letting her lips linger there to shake the image of the blood that had started to streak through the gauze on his forehead, trying not to let it frighten her, worry her more than it should. She needed to convince him to take care of himself, for once to put his own needs before those of others around him.
"All any of us can do is try."
Vaughn nodded at her words, refusing to meet her eyes. He had given in with that, but she knew he wasn't convinced, that he would always hold this deep within him; if they didn't get the little boy back, he would think it was his fault, that there could have been something he should have done.
"Michael…" Sydney started, her voice wavering as she tried desperately to make it sound as if she weren't begging. She pulled out of his grasp to look at him, not noticing the pain as she reached up and let her fingers dance along his chin, tilting it towards her as he had done to her so many times before, and forcing his eyes to meet her own. "We need to…"
Her words ran out on her, as if to tell her that he didn't need to have them repeated, that there were other better things he should hear from her lips. Sydney faltered, her eyes sneaking from his, ready to dart to the floor but finding Gabriel before they could reach their intended destination. It was in that split second focusing on her son that she found her answer, knew what she had to say.
"He needs you…"
Her voice hesitated again, eyes flitting back up to Vaughn's as she took her hand away from his face, and she knew that she could have had him with her first statement alone. But she needed to continue, if, for nothing more, than to make sure that he heard her, that he knew. Her words were so soft that he almost couldn't hear them; but they were there.
"I need you…"
Vaughn closed his eyes, reaching out to find her fingers, able to grasp them even without the help of sight. For a moment, Sydney thought that the pain had finally overwhelmed him, that he had previously been doing a better job of hiding it and things were worse than she had thought. But he brought her fingertips to his lips, brushing a whispered I love you against them.
And just as her words had stood for I love you before, his responded in kind: I need you, too…
Without another word or gesture passing between them, with her fingers still touching his lips and their baby cradled between them, he spoke again, louder this time, so that his mother turned away from the old newspaper she had found on his desk and busied herself with, and came towards them.
"Come on, Maman. We're going to the hospital."
"… wouldn't move, so I pulled him behind a stack of crates or something. Probably not such a good idea looking back, because part of it fell and conked him on the head, but…"
They had been at the hospital for… Sydney couldn't even remember how long anymore. It was more than an hour, she knew, but after that all concept of time was hopeless. Vaughn had been stitched, x-rayed and bandaged; he had a concussion and a few fractured ribs, but with rest and medication, everything would heal. Weiss had found his way to their room, his arm in a cast from the elbow down, and was more or less seriously filling in the gaps of the story.
Vaughn's account had gone something like, … there was nothing in the van, I went to find Bykov, talked to you and then Bykov's pistol was at my throat... There was an allusion to a question and answer game that Vaughn either couldn't or chose not to elaborate on; he vaguely remembered Weiss showing up, Sacha's death and then petered off, everything else still too much of a blur to be told with any precision.
"… and we're both still alive, so…"
Sydney sat in a chair by the head of Vaughn's bed, his mother beside her and Gabriel in her arms. She had moved away from Vaughn's side and relinquished her grip on their child only once, and then only then because Vaughn had asked her to, had pleaded with her to go with the doctor when he had offered to look once more over her arm. She hadn't been able to refuse the look he gave her, the I don't want to lose you either. Please… that poured from his eyes, and so the baby had been handed to Charlotte and Sydney's arm checked and re-bandaged to Vaughn's sighing satisfaction.
There had been no sign of Jack or Ilya, no mention of either of them since the group had left the CIA building. It seemed as if no one wanted to jinx it, thought they stood a better chance of regaining the child if his name was not spoken aloud, if it seemed as if they weren't wishing with all their might, didn't want it almost more than anything else the world could offer…
"… was out cold for a good thirty seconds. When he came back… Mike, you jetted out of there. I had no idea how you did it on that leg; I almost couldn't…"
One thing I've learned doing this – there's no drug like adrenaline…
Sydney was so sure that anyone who had been stranded in the heat of the moment, left to their own devices and defenses to make an escape would have known this, would have felt the almost superhuman rush of adrenaline before, that she almost interrupted Weiss to tell him. She knew that she should have been listening attentively, logging everything that was mentioned so she could later match motion and action with bruises and scars, would be able to understand; but couldn't help the fact that Weiss' voice kept drifting in and out of existence. One moment, it was his own, relaying how he had run to the scene, the next it had twisted to Vaughn's or her father's, Devlin's even, or Sloane as he had given her orders…
She had finally relinquished control, let the words trigger what phrases, snippets and memories it would. It was comforting somehow, thinking of those things that were already past, that they had overcome together. Her first operation as a double in Moscow, Badenweiler, breaking into the Vatican, Tai Pei… With all their varying degrees of success and failure, all the little words and sentiments that were exchanged before, after and even in between… It helped to put things into perspective, make this story easier to hear.
"… caught up to you, you were like a crazy person. You wouldn't listen to a damn thing I…"
… I thought you were crazy. I mean, I actually thought you might be a crazy person. But I watched you, I read your statement. I've seen how you think, and I've seen how you work. I've seen who you are…
Perhaps those words hadn't been the ones to trigger it, but that moment, that night, had been when she had first realized that he truly was the only person she could trust. She had been broken, hurting, had called him because there had been no one else. He hadn't even known her for that long, but that hadn't stopped him from showing up, picking up the shards of her shattered self and somehow arranging them so that when he handed them back to her, a slight turn and flick of the wrist shifted the still-fractured pieces into a kaleidoscope of hope and light.
She had discovered many things that night at the pier, as her hand had rested atop his and the lights from the Ferris wheel shimmered in the water. Not only had her CIA handler had the uncanny knack of knowing just what to say and how to say it, but that she hadn't been alone; he wouldn't ever hurt her, would go out of his way to protect and help and save her, and not because his job required it of him, but simply because…
Because she had his number…
"Sydney..."
The wonder-filled tinge that colored Vaughn's tone snapped her back to attention, his voice alone would have been enough to draw her, but there was something about the way he had said her name this time that was different from any he ever had before. Her eyes met his and she knew in an instant that although he was looking in her direction, straight at and seemingly through her, just as he always did, he was speaking to Weiss.
"… I had to get back to Sydney."
He smiled, that same quick, shy smile he must have flashed at her a million times since she had known him; but just like everything else about him, every time seemed the first. It never failed to leave her breathless, to turn her legs to jelly and quicken her heartbeat to a flutter that could rival a hummingbird's wings. She had never wondered if he had used this same grin with all the girls who had come before her; it was hers now and wouldn't have mattered if he had.
But within days of returning to the apartment after Gabriel had been born, she had had her answer, when he had left her with his mother on his first hurried trip to the store for more diapers. He only smiles like that for you…
"Yeah," Weiss muttered, his tone clearly relaying his impatience as he rolled his eyes. "I know. It's all you would say for the entire…"
"How did you get back?" Sydney interrupted, her curiosity sudden and intense. Just a moment ago, she hadn't been able to pay attention, but now she wanted to hear, needed to know how he had returned to her without her already knowing of his intentions, without a word from any of the other agents at the scene. "Didn't you see any of the team?"
Weiss shook his head and shrugged, his face contorting with the pain the latter motion shot down his arm. "I don't know. We must have left the opposite way they came in. But the getting back part was by far the most frightening ten minutes of my entire life. And I've had to sit with Mike through long car rides home after the Kings lose. Not a pretty sight."
"After all you had just been through?" Charlotte asked with a small laugh, the tittering sound of which was bordering on nervousness, as if she shouldn't be bringing it up again, but that the idea of her son going through so much and then just writing it off as nothing was disturbing. "You never fail to amuse me, Eric."
Her last words were strong, sincere, and with them the three agents knew that she somehow understood this life just as they did: barely, sometimes not at all, but there was always a glimmer of hope somewhere in the distance. The good rode in on the fumes of the bad; and hearts and stomachs that were too soft would not survive until times were better, would not be able to live except with anxiety and doubt ever-lingering.
"There was no way in hell I was running all the way to the Ops Center," Weiss began, letting a grin serve as his only response to Charlotte's comment. "Mike would have done it in a second, but he was in bad shape, too. So as soon as we got back to the main road, I flagged down this rusty old Buick. The lady at the wheel must have been at least 95 years old and half blind, probably should have had her license revoked decades ago…"
He paused for breath, turning curiously toward his friend. "You sure you don't remember? I mean, the lady had blue hair…" When Vaughn shook his head, Weiss frowned before turning back to the women and continuing. "She didn't question our appearances and wouldn't let me explain, but did ask what two such nice young men were doing in that neighborhood so bright and early, and hoped that we weren't up to no good."
This sentence was punctuated with another roll of the eyes and something resembling a snicker. "She drove with two feet the entire way, took corners like a bat out of hell. There were like eight cats climbing all over me in the backseat, and I had to shout out directions between bouts of sneezing. Mike, meanwhile, was kind enough to ask if she could go any faster... I swear, I was about ready to puke."
They were left with this unpleasant thought, because Weiss shook his head in disgust, clearly indicating he was finished. There was no point in telling how they had arrived at the Ops Center more or less in one piece; that they were here to tell the story was evidence of that.
"I don't remember," Vaughn admitted after a moment. There was no way to tell if he had been too rapt in thoughts of Sydney to pay attention to any other detail, or if this were the 'slight memory loss' that the doctor had said might accompany his concussion.
He had stirrings of his stomach being lurched from side to side (whether it had been at the thought of losing her, losing their son, or simply car sickness, he didn't know); an odd numbing pain that seemed to have run throughout his entire body, capturing heart and mind and soul; a strange odor that might have been cat fur, very well could have been something else; and… Sydney…
He had almost died, very well could have. And even though Sydney hadn't been there, all he could remember about the incident was her… Funny, that. Or, maybe, not at all…
"Dude, you were like on the edge of your seat waiting to get there. I don't even think you had your seatbelt on. We went through two lights, took three turns without a blinker, two more with the wrong blinker, went about forty miles over the speed limit, and almost killed a…"
A soft knock at the door interrupted him. They all turned, expecting to see another doctor or nurse, but finding Jack in the doorway. Sydney didn't look at his face any longer than the time required to recognize him, her eyes focusing on empty arms, the bare space beside him. Her heart sunk to her stomach and Vaughn gripped her hand; they barely noticed Jack turn to face someone or something not visible through the open doorway, were lucky that their suddenly dumbed senses allowed them to hear his words.
"Come on," he murmured, his voice more gentle than any Sydney had heard from him before. "Everybody's waiting."
With a slight tug, Ilya appeared in the doorway, his thumb in his mouth and his eyes darting quickly back and forth, wary of what they would or wouldn't find before them. But all it took was one look into the room him for his entire face to light up, his damp thumb dropping to his side as he yanked his other hand out of Jack's grip, his sneakered feet pattering across the floor.
"Bahn!"
"Dad! Did you really…?" The rest of Sydney's question caught in her throat as she watched Ilya scamper to the foot of the bed, jumping up and down when he found he was unable to launch himself into Vaughn's arms and repeating his name with greater energy and urgency.
"I spoke to Devlin. Pulled a few strings, called in a couple old favors," Jack explained, stepping behind Ilya and picking the little boy up off the floor. "Is it all right if…?"
But Vaughn held out his arms and Ilya launched himself into them, earning a pained oof from Vaughn as the child wrapped his own tiny arms tightly around his neck, burying his little face in his shoulder with a sigh.
"Careful, buddy…" he murmured, wincing as he reached up to loosen Ilya's grasp, deciding that it didn't matter and holding the child closer, breathing in the soft scent of powder and Johnson's Baby Shampoo that reminded him of his own little boy. Having the child in his arms, knowing that Sydney was beside him with their son… it was worth ten times more than this small amount of pain, made it all just melt away.
Sydney stood and leaned against the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out to run it through Ilya's hair. Vaughn tangled his fingers through hers, moving their joined hands down to rub against the child's back. She leaned in closer, moved as if to rest her forehead against Vaughn's, but suddenly remembered the stitched gash, dipping her chin downward and closing her eyes, letting emotion wash over her, mingle with the questions that were too much to ask…
Was this really happening? Was it too good to be true? If she opened her eyes again, would everything disappear? Would she find her arms empty, herself in the warehouse, Vaughn pulling away from their first kiss, from their life, this life, together…?
The four of them, Sydney, Vaughn, Ilya and Gabriel, sat as if woven together, each a different and vital thread in a finally finished tapestry. There was a hint of desperation, of fear, in the way they embraced one another, as if worried to let go for fear of losing all the others again, but this time, forever.
With a soft smile, Charlotte rose from her chair, having to force herself to tear her eyes away from the scene before her and turn towards Jack and Weiss. "Coffee, gentlemen?"
Jack smiled and nodded from across the bed, removing a few folded papers from his jacket pocket and dropping them onto the blankets, crossing around to Charlotte and leading her from the room like a true gentleman. Weiss agreed in a similar fashion, although not half as suave as he stumbled from the room, lingering for a moment in the doorway to turn towards Vaughn and shake his head.
"Lucky son of a bitch," he muttered, before disappearing and reluctantly following his friends' parents down the hall.
The little family silently rejoicing on the hospital bed hadn't heard a word.
"Dad, how did you do it? What did you…?"
Sydney looked up, finally discovering that everyone else had left the room. She didn't have time to ponder the sudden absences, and even later, when she asked her father the very same questions, he hadn't answered with much more than a smile. They never questioned further, never found out exactly what he had done that day in the time it had taken him to wrestle the little boy from the CIA's custody. They simply settled with the fact that they owed her father too large a debt to ever be repaid.
"Syd?" Vaughn asked suddenly. If he had heard her questions or realized that they were alone in the room, he didn't move to acknowledge it. "Did you want kids? I mean before this, before Russia. We never really had a chance to talk about it…"
He was fumbling, didn't know why he felt the sudden urge to ask now, but wasn't going to suppress the instinct. If today had taught him anything, it was that life and time were precious, that the little questions and comments shouldn't be taken for granted, may just be the ones you will never get another chance to voice, that could have meant the world, made all the difference.
"I don't know," she confessed quietly. The truth was, she hadn't really thought about it at all. At least not before any of this had happened, not with Vaughn. She had started this discussion only once before, right when…
"That's why I told him the truth," she blurted out, cheeks coloring as her eyes found the stark white hospital sheets, her fingers stiffening in his and her voice softening to a whisper. "Danny. He wanted kids so badly and I couldn't lead him on, I couldn't lie to him about that…"
She tilted her head, bending to kiss Gabriel and still refusing to meet his eyes. Vaughn felt Ilya look up from his shoulder, seeming to sense the sudden gravity, the hint of sadness that had suffused the conversation; probably wondered if he had been the cause of it, if there was something else he had done that would end in blood and tears.
"I don't think I ever told you that," Sydney mused softly, her lips ruffling their little boy's hair. "I don't think I've ever told anybody that…"
Vaughn tightened his grip on her hand in thanks and comfort, torn between wanting to tell her not to relive those moments, not to torture herself, and feeling as if he didn't have the right to speak here, to intrude; he wouldn't have known what to say. He hadn't pushed her where Danny was concerned. It was his death that had brought them together, one of the few, perhaps the only, areas of untrodden ground in their relationship; there were a few footprints here and there, of course, one or two late night conversations, some lingering smiles and tears, but it was simply one area Vaughn felt he should not step.
Yet, she had opened up on her own, entrusted him with this, something deeper than she had ever shared before, changing the seemingly simple story of And I told him about SD-6 to something more complex, giving it a reason, filling the people behind the tale with life…
"Sorry…" Sydney mumbled, her cheeks turning a deeper red as she realized how drastically she had changed the tone of their reunion, zapping it almost instantaneously from elation to sadness.
"Don't Syd," Vaughn sighed, shaking his head and shifting Ilya so that the little boy was sitting more on the bed than his lap; the child reluctantly pulled out of the embrace, not wanting to move too far away.
Vaughn's eyes searched each of them: Ilya, little Gabriel, Sydney, even his own reflection in her eyes; four people who, by all rights and reasons, should not have come together. But they had deserved it in the end, been destined for it, carrying on through hardship and more than their fair share of sorrow, never giving up.
Couldn't she see that this, right here, was it? That nameless, intangible, too difficult to pinpoint thing, a feeling more than anything else; what most people spent their entire lives searching for and never found, never realized that it had been right under their noses all along. They may have fought, sighed, sobbed and finally simply stumbled upon it, but at that moment, despite and because of everything, it was theirs.
He smiled, hoping to give her strength, found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her. Cradling their son, her hair still tousled from a night of little sleep, sans the makeup she would have normally used to hide the dark crescents beneath her eyes… She was gorgeous and he almost told her so, knew she would laugh, wouldn't believe him. And so he changed his mind at the last second, a few fresh words willing themselves to be heard and leaping from his lips, new truth finding its way to her beauty.
"I can't imagine not having all this. Not having you."
"Me neither…" Sydney murmured. She paused before her lips parted again and she took a breath; he knew in an instant what she was going to say, what she would add to her apology, but her gratitude was unnecessary. He wanted to tell her this, wanted to steal the thanks from her before she could vocalize it, and hand the word back, unspoiled and unspoken.
Before either of them could speak, Ilya pitched forward out of Vaughn's grasp, his eye catching on something and his body following impulse and crawling towards it. Both Sydney and Vaughn instinctively reached an arm out to keep him from falling off the bed, one catching his shoulder, the other snatching his ankle and nearly removing his shoe. But Ilya didn't fall, squirming out of their grip and turning back towards them, clutching the papers that Jack had placed on the bed and holding them out to Vaughn.
"What's that?"
Sydney had spoken the words, but the same ones had barreled their way through Vaughn's mind. Crisp and white, the papers seemed harmless, in all reality, probably were; but that didn't stop the sinking feeling of uncertainty that descended from his heart to his stomach, and he didn't know why he suddenly wanted and didn't want to know what information those documents contained.
Ilya regarded both Sydney and the papers questioningly, seeming to shrug in answer, as Vaughn swallowed his doubt and reached forward, taking the papers from Ilya's hand and offering the child a smile in thanks. The little boy crawled back up to the head of the bed, snuggling gently against Vaughn's side and watched the documents unfold, seeming to know that he couldn't read the markings themselves and peering up as if to gauge Vaughn's reaction, watching his eyes widen as he silently flipped through the pages.
"Vaughn?"
It took him a moment to answer, to even realize that she had called his name. When he finally spoke, his voice was so low that as close as she was to him, she almost couldn't hear them. "They're adoption papers," he whispered, holding them out to her. "Everything's filled out. All we have to do is sign them."
Sydney took the documents from him, hands trembling. "Ilya Mikhail… Vaughn," she murmured, mystified, reading the child's name and then dropping the papers onto the bedside table, sheer luck landing them there and not spilling them onto the floor.
Not even a year ago, she would have met his eyes with a wild panic, a deer in the headlights, deathly afraid of drawing him into something he might not want, that another part of his life would have been because of her.
I wasn't thinking? I should have asked you? I'm sorry?... I'm sorry...
A dash of this uncertainty touched upon her, even as she fought to keep it at bay. But everything changed the second her eyes linked with Vaughn's, intercepting the same look of amazement and awe that had been there when she had first told him he was going to be a daddy, the moment she had agreed to marry him, first kissed him, the day their son had entered the world…
"What do you think, little guy?" Vaughn asked, forcing himself from Sydney's gaze to face Ilya. "Do you want me and Syd to be your mommy and daddy?"
"Daddy?" Ilya asked solemnly, dark eyes clouding for a moment, suddenly brightening as he tried the word again with more confidence. "Daddy."
There were no words to describe the sweetness that flowed from that single word, as if pure sugar had turned liquid, trickling off each letter, rippling in time with the two vibrating syllables. Multiplying that sensation infinitely by infinity still would not have been enough to cover it, could not have come close to telling of the tender satisfaction that rang from each note. It was by far the best lyric to any song that had ever reached Vaughn's ears. Except perhaps for…
"Can you say 'mommy'?"
He felt Sydney smile with his words rather than saw it; radiating a warmth as if the sun had made a sudden, unexpected appearance on an otherwise frigid and cloudy day. There was a part of him that wanted to turn, experience that tingling, sated sensation that a single glimpse of her dimples always brought him; but he couldn't take his eyes off Ilya, waiting for motion, any sign of a response.
"Daddy."
Half-expected, completely treasured; it couldn't discourage his determination, the ardent need to gently try again, the patient willingness to sit with the little boy in his lap and keep going forever, practicing until the child got it right. Giving up attempting to keep a straight face and letting his smile break through, Vaughn pressed again.
"Mommy."
There were a few heartbeats where Ilya seemed to consider his answer, gave hope that perhaps the next word uttered would be the right one. But it didn't matter as the little boy stood, placing his arms gently around Vaughn's neck and chirping his response almost directly into his ear.
"Daddy!"
Vaughn hugged the child fiercely, eyes finding Sydney's and locking there for half a second before trailing down to her lips. She leaned forward, holding Gabriel out of the way and pressing them gently against his own.
"Daddy!" Ilya sang out again.
He felt Sydney smile against his lips and pulled her impossibly closer, losing himself in her tender, almost too soft touch and languidly hurtling the two of them toward the heights of heaven. In a hazy, dulled echo, he heard Ilya repeat his new word and Gabriel coo in response, felt the two children reach out to each other.
Their lesson was over for the day.
It was good enough for now. And they had all the time in the world to make it better.
Well, that was it, everyone. The last chapter.
Thank you so much to all the readers, and especially all of those who took the time to review throughout this story.
I've been considering an epilogue, but we'll see; I guess it depends pretty much on whether you want it or not…