Roundabout

By: Ellie (Chshalogrl)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. That is all.

A/N: My sincerest apologies to all of you (especially Fair Cate). You see, I don't ever read my fics after I post them. I do my editing in a Word Processing program, post, and I'm done. So when I said that I wanted to make the POVs ambiguous...what I meant was that I don't like to lablel them "Vaughn POV" or "Syd POV". I didn't mean that I wanted all of them to run together until you don't know what is what! I finally looked over the chapters and realized that was eliminating the breaks that I've been using between different perspectives. Again, I'm sorry. But you are all troopers for dealing with it. :) I've gone back through the past three chapters and fixed the breaks. So they should be there now. Thank you for the heads up, Cate. And thank you all for the wonderful reviews you've been leaving. I've often thought of leaving because there didn't seem to be much interest in my fics. (SD-1 is the main place I post) But you guys have caused me to reconsider that move. Thanks again! Ellie

Part 4--Sentry

Eric Weiss has been dreading this moment for more than three months.

"You knew?!" Vaughn's voice makes a swift progression from yell to full-on roar. "How could you keep that from me? You saw what it did to me when she left! How did you come to the conclusion that it was your decision to make? Damnit, Eric! This all could have been prevented. If you'd have told me where she was, maybe she wouldn't be in some backwoods hospital with God knows what kind of injuries!" A cursory glance towards a silent Weiss causes Vaughn to lower his voice slightly. "Did you know she was going to go? Before she left, I mean."

Yes, he knew. And as soon as he heard Vaughn utter the name 'Megan Andrews', he knew that the three-months long charade was over. Yet, he doesn't feel inclined to defend his actions to his friend.

"I did." He confirms with a nod.

He eyes Vaughn with a look of mild amusement and feels a surge of relief. Not that he's enjoying his best friend's anger, of course. He's just enjoying the sudden rekindling of the passion that has only ever surfaced where Sydney is concerned. The old Vaughn seems to be making a comeback. It's just too bad that one friend's comeback might be coming at the cost of another friend's wellbeing. They still don't know much about Sydney's condition, but it hadn't taken more than five minutes for Vaughn to secure a ticket on the next plane out of Los Angeles. Of course, the flight doesn't leave for several hours. Which leaves plenty of time for a thorough inquisition to occur.

Weiss is unapologetic as he begins his explanation. "She came to me. She wanted someone to know that she was leaving. And she sure as hell wasn't going to tell you or Jack. She was in bad shape, Vaughn. You asked me how I could keep this secret when I saw what her leaving did to you. Yeah, well I also saw what staying would do to her. And believe me, of the two of you, she was much worse off. She was desperate to get away and, while you say it wasn't my place to keep it from you, I know it wasn't my place to entrap her."

He doesn't blame Vaughn for feeling that he has, once again, been betrayed by someone he trusted. But Eric Weiss isn't compelled to apologize for his secrecy either. The kind of man Michael Vaughn has been over the past several months is not the kind of person Sydney deserves to be with. She deserved a chance to get away and make a new start. So he agreed to keep her secret. And he had…until now.

Sydney, are you sure? Isn't there anything else you can do? This is going to kill him."

She was sitting on his couch, her fingers tearing nervously at a crumpled tissue, as she looked up at him with puffy eyes. She answered in a choked whisper. "That's the problem. I don't think it will." She shook her head. "I'm not sure he'll really notice that I'm gone. Which is why it's time for me to go."

Eric was aghast. "But you love him. He loves you. How can you just…go?"

She took a breath and fixed her eyes on the tissue still in her hands. "I just…I just have to. I can't think about it. I can't think about the type of person I am if I leave. How weak I am." Her voice hitched slightly. "Or how selfish. I just know that I can't go on the way I have been. And if I don't leave now, I never will." She looked at him nervously before making her request. "I need to know I can count on you.. You know, in case of a really huge emergency. I need to know that I can contact you if something…happens."

Eric studied her closely. Her hunched posture, her trembling fingers, her ragged breaths. And he nodded in agreement.

She stood slowly and smiled sadly as she approached him. "You've been a great friend." He was frozen in place as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. "Probably my best friend since I've been back."

Weiss simply nodded again, not trusting his voice to respond in an appropriate manner.

She gave him a moist kiss on the cheek and pleaded softly in his ear. "Don't tell Vaughn…please." And with a squeeze of his hands, she gave him one last smile before leaving his house…and Los Angeles for good.

Mere moments passed before Eric felt a small wad of crumpled paper trapped within his fist. Curious, he unfolded the small slip and to find two simple words written neatly in blue ink.

Megan Andrews.

Vaughn is pacing now and Weiss feels a strong pang of concern for his best friend and for Sydney. For a tiny moment, he wonders if Vaughn is right in believing that he is somehow responsible for Sydney's accident. There's a unique burden, he's discovered, in playing the confidante to two people who seem destined to love one another from afar. Just a few years before, Eric Weiss had never seen two people with such a powerful aura of bliss about them. He'd never seen two people so determined to protect the sanctity of a relationship. Which is why it's so hard for him to believe that these same two people are now locked in this tattered relationship that has them each destined for self-destruction.

"What did the officer say again?" Vaughn's voice carries a strong sense of urgency as he halts and settles himself on the edge of a recliner, his forehead in his palm.

"I already told you, Mike. He didn't give me any details. He couldn't. He just told me that she was in an accident and that they haven't released her status since she has no family there for her. The guy felt guilty and went to some extra trouble to contact us."

"Damnit! Why the hell would she run off to a place where she hasn't got anyone? What was she thinking?" A look of horror passes over his already-stricken features. "I feel like I'm completely immobile. I have to go to her, Weiss. I have to. But what if she's not okay? Or what if she's okay, but she won't even speak with me? You know, I thought that the past few months were pure hell because of Lauren." He shakes his head dazedly and looks at Weiss with sorrowful eyes. "I was right. In part. But the worst part of the past few months has been not having Sydney to come home to after every failed mission. I feel like I've just clawed my way out from under my issues with Lauren. But without Sydney, I might as well just crawl back into that hole."

"She'll be okay." Weiss' voice was firm before he continued with a shrug. "And you're right. She might not want to see you. But didn't you know that before we found out about her accident? And you were still going to take your chances. It's worth it. She needs someone with her now more than ever. That someone needs to be you."

"It should be me." Vaughn mused. "But she called you. Whyyou" With anyone else, his tone might be misconstrued as snide, but Weiss knows better. He's hurt.

Weiss pauses for a moment to consider the question before he offers the only answer he can think of. "Because she doesn't love me."

The plane holds the stenches of stale air and vomit. It might just be him though. Since hearing the news of Sydney's accident, he's been fighting a rather stubborn bout of nausea and a sour taste tinges his taste buds as he takes a deep breath in preparation for what will likely be the longest flight of his life. The elderly woman seated next to him is knitting and her sharp little elbows keep finding their way into his ribs. The young family across the aisle prompts a smile at first glance. But when the blonde toddler starts screeching at the building pressure in her ears, he begins to wish he was flying first class. After refusing a complimentary beverage from a young and wide-eyed flight attendant, he rests his head back against the vinyl seat. Turning his face towards the hissing gusts of air from above, he lets his eyes fall shut in attempt to collect his thoughts under the pretense of taking a nap.

He doesn't have a plan. Although Weiss had made a valiant attempt, the small-town hospital hadn't been willing to release any records over the phone, a measure Vaughn would have appreciated had it been under any other circumstances. Armed with this lack of knowledge, he finds that his mind is leaping to all sorts of gruesome assumptions with regards to Sydney's physical condition, and in an attempt to maintain his sanity for the short duration of his flight, he tries to reflect on the more positive occasions of his time with Sydney. Unfortunately, the positive soon succumb to the more recent negative which forces him to face the error of his ways for the first time since she left.

The call came just as he was getting out of the shower. Another lead. If he wanted to find Lauren, he needed to move now. After a split-second of hesitation, he was hastily tossing clothes into a small suitcase. Lauren had succeeded not only in making his life a living hell, but also in making it one massive lie. And he'd be damned if he was going to let her get away.

A quick call to the airport and he was all set. His favorite suit was left hanging in the closet and the wrapped gift was forgotten on the bed. Grabbing his favorite lather jacket from off its hanger, he stomped hurriedly down the short hallway of the apartment and found Sydney waiting at the other end.

"Vaughn, where are you going?" Her initial look of excitement was quickly clouded with confusion. She certainly looked stunning tonight. The wine-colored dress spilled over her curves while her dark hair was up and away from her face for the occasion. Seeing how much effort she'd put into her appearance caused him to almost change his mind. Almost.

"I just spoke with a contact in Zurich. We've got another lead. We have to move now."

"I thought we had plans. We haven't spent an evening together in… Can't they send someone else?"

The hurt in her voice was a stab to his conscience. Could they send someone else? Probably. But thoughts of Lauren helped him to quickly regain his focus. "I'm going, Sydney. I have to go. I'll be back in a few days. I'll see you soon."

The front door slammed behind him and he stopped just outside as he felt a pang of regret. But it was gone as quickly as it arrived. There would be other birthdays. They could celebrate together next year.

The sight of absolute devastation he'd seen on Sydney's face still wounds him and his ignorance of their terse situation now seems ridiculous. He's not quite sure how he went from being a man grateful for every moment spent with the woman he loves, to becoming a man with enough false bravado to believe that any one day with her was less than a great gift. It's only through the clarity of hindsight that he realizes how much he's hurt Sydney and he discovers that he won't blame her if she can't forgive him.

He's not sure how to forgive himself.

It had taken several tries, but he'd finally gotten through.

After hours of sitting in the hospital waiting room on the behalf of Megan Andrews, Officer Tom Fields had finally gotten in touch with an Eric Weiss in Los Angeles. He hadn't been able to offer much in the way of Ms. Andrews' condition, but he felt some strange sense of relief at the fact that someone would be arriving at the young woman's bedside within a matter of hours.

It's been five hours since he made the phone call and though he's already gone above and beyond the call of duty, he finds himself still seated in a straight-backed waiting room chair. Which he is quite sure has caused some sort of permanent damage to his lower back. At some point within the past several hours, someone had secured the remote control and changed the channel. He's now watching the obnoxious antics of several poorly-animated cartoon characters. Still, he can't help but feel that he's on a mission to stand guard for young woman who seems to be very alone in the world.

Turning an eye towards the nurses' station just down the hallway, Tom suddenly spots a harried-looking man as he rushes towards the desk and speaks to the young receptionist. Standing and moving down the short hallway, he can't help but eavesdrop on the quiet conversation. Upon hearing the name 'Megan Andrews', Tom takes an appraising look at the man who has arrived to relieve him of his duties and surmises him to be a romantic interest. His unkempt appearance and sleep-deprived eyes radiate emit the frantic worry of a lover rather than the familial concern of a brother or cousin. This is clearly a man whose entire world has been threatened and, as Tom slips quietly towards the hospital exit, he prays that all will be restored to Megan Andrews and this man who clearly loves her.

Dread always pools in the pit of Shayna Collins' stomach just before she arrives for her weekly shift at the hospital. Born to one of the more affluent families in the Mendocino area, Shayna's parents had recently decided that their sixteen-year old daughter should be giving back to her community instead of cruising the neighborhood in her compact convertible. The result of her parents' sudden bout of generosity has been more than two months of loud flower arrangements, questionable meal trays, and an antiseptic scent that Shayna can't seem to scrub from her hair.

While television is always portraying hospitals as fast-paced hubs of constant live-saving efforts, most of the patients at Mendocino Coast District Hospital are either senior citizens in need of an antacid or flushed young women who leave with newborn babies. She's working the reception desk skimming her daily roster of sorts, Shayna recognizes most of the names and notes that her assertions are, for the most part, correct. But as she pans the list, she comes across a name that she hasn't seen on any of her previous shifts.

"Megan Andrews?"

The male voice sounds ragged around the edges as it speaks the very name Shayna is reading from her clipboard. The synchronicity of his voice with her thoughts is startling and causes Shayna's to jump slightly before she lets her gaze settle on the sorry looking gentleman on the other side of the front desk. She clears her throat quietly. "Excuse me?"

"I'm looking for Megan Andrews. She was…I think it was a car accident. Late last night."

With a quick scan of the paperwork in front of her, Shayna nods and tugs shyly at the end of her thick, blonde braid. "I need to get Dr. Freeman to speak with you. He's been treating Ms. Andrews. It will be just a moment." Shayna is turning to go in search of the doctor when she hears the man's strained voice. "Miss?"

She throws a questioning glance over her shoulder at him.

"Can you tell me anything? I just…I don't know anything and I flew all the way up here. I just need to know if she's—"

Shayna freezes at the obvious desperation laced in the man's voice before she turns back with a sympathetic shrug. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not allowed to release any information. I'm just a volunteer. And, even if I was, I just came on a little while ago." She bites lightly on her bottom lip before turning and heading back down the hallway.

She hates this job for a lot of reasons. But moments like this one have just topped the list.

He has to speak with a doctor before he's allowed to see her. The measure is a needless one and Vaughn is certain that he's not the first one to feel this way. He focuses on everything except the doctor's words as he briefs Vaughn on Sydney's condition. The doctor's Adam's apple bobs buoyantly as he speaks of a head injury. Vaughn listens to the furious scratching of the ballpoint pen as the man jots a note on his clipboard and mentions something about cracked ribs. The doctor is recounting a surgical procedure having to do with Sydney's spleen when Vaughn notices a tiny rust-colored stain on the sleeve of the man's white coat. He wonders if it's blood.

After a seemingly endless explanation of Sydney's current condition, Vaughn is finally taken to an open door at the end of a hallway. The teenaged girl who has escorted him, Shawna or Shayna or something along that line, turns to him with a timid smile. "She's sedated so she should be asleep for the next several hours."

Vaughn nods wordlessly, but can't help the sense of relief that flows through him. If she's asleep, she can't kick him out. Which means that he has some time to be with her, to touch her, to make sure she's really okay. He takes a hesitant step through the doorway and suddenly she is there. She is right in front of him, surrounded by white linens. She's just a few steps away and the reality of the past few months suddenly seems preposterous. How could he ever have felt that he belonged anywhere but here? With her.The room is nearly silent as a monitor blips quietly over Sydney's soft breaths. He doesn't remember the details of her ailments or injuries. He just knows that the doctor was clear in his declaration that Megan Andrews is expected to make a full recovery.

And now he can breathe.

An armless chair rests against the wall and its wooden legs scrape against the tiled floor as he drags it to her side. To say that she is beautiful is a ridiculous attempt to describe what he feels as he looks at her. Her hair is shorter and there is a hint of red in its hue. He knows that the bulk of her injuries rest beneath the coarse, white blanket that is tucked around her frame. But there are deep, violet bruises that mar her forehead and spread across her left cheekbone. He can see where her lip was split thanks to a tiny line of dried blood. Upon further inspection, he notices that she's thin. Not gaunt, but thin. And he knows without a doubt that she has been skipping meals…a bad habit he had once remedied during their time together.

Want some?" The box of pizza was positioned between them and he chuckled as long strands of cheese dangled from the offered slice.

"No thanks." Her reply was a distracted one and she didn't even look his way as she made another mark on the report in front of her.

"Syd." He scolded her. "You have to eat. Terrorists and crime syndicates are always going to be there…unfortunately." He amended his words when she raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You have to eat, Sydney. I always worry about you when you get wrapped up in work like this. I'm afraid you'll forget to eat…or shower…for days on end."

A small smile flickered on her features and, with a resigned sigh, she dropped her pen and accepted the hot slice of pizza. She burned her tongue with the first mouthful before mumbling an unintelligible "Delicious."

"See how easy it is? Sometimes food is even downright enjoyable." He teased as he plucked a piece of pepperoni from her piece.

"I don't have to worry about taking care of myself." She reasoned good-naturedly. "I've got you to do it for me."

Suddenly, he's no longer nervous. This is what he does. He takes care of her. And he's going to make sure she's taken care of now, whether she wants him to or not. He scoots his chair even closer to the head of her bed and is extremely careful about taking her hand into his. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he begins speaking words that are meant for her ears only.

"Hey, Sydney. Or should I say Megan? It's me. Vaughn. I know I'm probably the last person you're expecting to see. Probably the last person you want to see, but I had to come. I had to be here, Syd, because I've let you down and disappointed you in so many other ways. And I was going to try to find you even before I found out that you got yourself into this mess. You nearly gave me a heart attack. You know I can't handle seeing you hurt." He paused to revel in the irony of his statement. "I know that's probably hard for you to believe considering the fact that I'm the one responsible for most of your recent pain. But God, Syd. You have to believe me when I say that I understand why you left. I do. I'm selfish and a fool. I made you believe that you aren't the most important thing in the world to me and that's a lie. I'm sorry, Syd." Lowering his lips to her hand, he brushes them across her knuckles and continues his one-sided conversation.

Michael Vaughn remembers the exact time and date of the last time he truly cried. Slouched against the charred frame of a burned-out apartment after being told his girlfriend had perished in the flames. Now, as unshed tears burn and flood his tired eyes, it seems only appropriate that he always seems to have a reservoir of tears to be shed especially for Sydney Bristow.

TBC…

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!