Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me, except maybe the plot of this little scenario, and it all Bad Robot, JJ Abrams, and ABC who get to own it
A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful reviewers, You're all so sweet. Anyways, on with the story.
I watched her opening the envelope. I probably should have stopped her, or at least did something, but I just sat there. She would probably interpret them all wrong and get royally pissed at me and maybe even want get divorced. But then I would talk it over with her rationally, and tell her the truth, and everything would be better. But would it? Did I want to make everything better? Yes, I told myself. Of course I want it to work out, I love her. She's my wife. But another voice at the back of my mind said. Then why don't you go in there and stop her? That I wasn't sure of. Was it because I really wanted to be with Sydney? I don't think so. I mean, I love my wife. I just said that I love my wife. Why did I have to keep reminding myself of this? I'm not unhappy in my relationship. Maybe I just can't keep this a secret.
This is most likely the reason. I despise secrets. I find secrets evil. That sounds kind of stupid and childish, especially with this. Its not like these letters are a huge secret that have been burning at my insides. The letters really arent anything at all. Well, at least the one half. I'm not so sure about the other half though.
I remember writing the first letter like it was yesterday.
Flashback
I looked at the paper. It looked so clean, nothing but straight horizontal blue lines and a single pink vertical margin. I didn't plan on keeping that piece of paper blank for long. But what to write on it? I still wasn't sure what to write when I picked up the pen. I didn't know what to write, but I just wrote anyway.
Dear Sydney,
Where are you right now? Why aren't you here, beside me? Why aren't we picking out wedding halls or bridesmaids outfits or a house to move into together? Is this my fault? It probably is. I should have never left you alone with Alison. If I had just spent the night with you, this would have never happened, and we would have gone to Santa Barbara, and we would have come back engaged, and now we'd either be married or incredibly close to it. But reality? In reality you're dead, six feet under ground and I'm here, feeling lonelier than ever.
It's really almost pathetic how I live now. I go to work, and I miss you desperately. I watch a hockey game, and miss you desperately. I feed my dog, and I miss you desperately. My pager goes off, and I want to throw it into the Pacific. And then you know what happens? I miss you desperately. I bet you didn't see that one coming.
So, what else is there to say? Your father's doing okay, I think. He's acting a little odd, but nothing major. He's just not around a lot. We all miss you. Will's in witness protection. He healed completely. At least physically.
Weiss is being Weiss. That's really all I have to say about that. Marshall is still talking all the time, which of course means he hasn't really changed, and me, obviously, by reading this you can tell that I can no longer talk to you without sounding like an idiot. Well , I actually have to go now so well, bye.
Love you Always,
Vaughn.
I stared at the letter. It sounded stupid. I was about to crumple the paper and throw it away, but a thought struck me. Even if there was some great power and such thing as life after death, and Sydney was going to read it, would she really care if it sounded stupid. It's Sydney, I'm pretty sure she would get the point.
End Flashback
Needless to say, I ended up putting the letter in an envelope, and putting it at the foot of her gravestone. I think that writing that letter was purely to feel closer to Sydney, like she was still there, but without feeling crazy, which I always felt when I talked to her, and, well, she wasn't there.
I watched as Lauren put down the first letter and pick up the second.