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Chapter 4

Sydney choked on her tea as I stated this. "It what?"

"Becoming my bodyguard saved Michael Vaughn's life." I answered, placing the appropriate emphasis on the correct words.

Sydney sat back, mulling this over. "Tell me everything."

I nodded, smiling at her. I had been told that I would have liked Sydney Bristow, but I didn't realize how true that would be until this very moment. "When Weiss and my husband found Michael, he was hustling pool tables and drinking his way through Europe. Nathan said he'd never seen Michael in such a state. They dragged him back to LA kicking and screaming the whole way. From what I've been told, Nathan punched Michael across the mouth to knock him out so that they didn't have to listen to him anymore. Weiss and Nathan took him to Weiss' place and Nathan began to duck him in and out of hot water until Michael was sober enough to know where he was. And then Weiss took his turn. As you can imagine, Michael lost his precarious temper and exploded in the middle of Weiss' apartment. If I hadn't been there, I wouldn't have believed it for myself."

Sydney gaped at me as I began to laugh over the visual image of Michael sopping wet and in a puddle on the floor, fuming over the treatment he had been receiving from Nathan and Weiss. I took a sip of my tea, giving her the opportunity to ask any questions she had. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and then asked, "How old were you?"

I started slightly, not having expected that exact question. "How old was I? Oh, I don't know. I think that I was almost 17. It wasn't that long after the CIA decided that it would be best if I stayed out of harm's way and was given a CIA sanctioned security detail so that their only remaining top agent would stay focused on his job, and not on me, his young and very pregnant girlfriend."

Sydney nodded. "Go on, I'm listening."

I nodded once, my eyes focusing inward to the weeks that I couldn't stand to remember; they were so painful. "They left me alone with him in Weiss' apartment."

Sydney jerked, but could tell that I was no longer sitting across from her. I was in Weiss' apartment almost two years into the past.

Flashback

At first, I didn't know what to do. The man on the bed was still mostly drunk, but Nathan had told me that he was going through de-tox and that I would be fine. Just don't get too close. I had nodded, yielded my forehead to his kiss, and then watched as they left me alone.

Unable to help myself, I approached the door. I brought my hand up and rested it on the door handle, wincing as the rusty knob squeaked in protest. Well, Michael C. Vaughn wasn't a spy for nothing. He was up and off the bed, with his hands tightening around my throat before I could even hazard a scream.

He looked for all the world like he was going to kill me. He wasn't wearing a shirt and the muscles in his biceps rippled as he held me pinned against the door. His jaw was locked in determination, mouth fixed in a firm scowl. His jade green eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, but his hands were tight and getting tighter as the seconds wore on.

I started to see black patches encroaching on my vision, when at last his own vision cleared and became focused. He let go immediately, backing away in horror. I hadn't even realized that my feet were no longer touching the floor and my 5 foot tall, pregnant form crashed to the floor with a loud THUD!

I brought my hands up to my throat, dragging in all of the air I could. When I looked up at him, I saw that he'd staggered back onto the bed and was covering his face with his hands, muttering in disjointed French under his breath.

I cleared my throat, thankful that it was still in working order, before approaching him. Reaching out tentatively, I touched his bare shoulder. "Michel?" I asked in French, thankful that Nathan had paid for tutors to teach me French, Spanish, Russian and Latin.

He just shook his head. I crouched in front of him, resting my hands on his legs quietly, trying to get him to look up at me. "I'm sorry I frightened you." I said again in French, looking up at him.

His words started to slow and then finally trickled to a halt. He brought his face out of his hands and stared at me. "What did you say?"

"I said, I'm sorry that I frightened you like I did. It was stupid. Forgive me?"

"Forgive you! I'm the one who needs to be forgiven. I nearly killed you."

I smiled; the 100 watt smile that my beloved Nathan said could disarm a raging bull with red in its eyes. "But you didn't, so all is forgotten. However, I did frighten you, so I apologize."

He nodded, still staring at me like I was missing a few cans from my six-pack. I reached out, touching his still damp hair. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Yeah. A beer." He answered, succinctly.

I smiled, but shook my head. "Nathan said that that was the last thing I was to give you. Weiss even cleared out his fridge. So what else. We've got orange juice, ginger ale or I think Weiss has got some milk in there too."

Michael looked me, fascinated by my calm, despite the bruises that were already starting to form on my throat. "Orange juice would be fine."

I smiled with a sharp nod and then waddled from the room, so that I could fetch him a glass of the soothing liquid. Michael sat for a few minutes and then followed me. "Who are you again?"

"I'm Cecily, Cecily Peters. Nathan is my boyfriend."

"Aren't you a little young for him?" Michael asked as I poured the glass and then set it on the bar in front of him.

"Yeah, I guess. But Nathan is always telling me that love bears no separations."

At this Michael snorted. "Bullshit."

I whirled, shaking a finger under his nose. "You watch your mouth, young man. Or I will wash it out with soap."

Michael looked down at me and started to laugh. To show him that I wasn't joking, I proceeded to do just that. When Michael finally got away from me and the soap, he started to rinse his mouth out. "Ugh!" he groaned, scrubbing his tongue vigorously.

I only smirked, stealing his as yet, untouched orange juice. "I have done that to Nathan many times. And Nathan is nearly twice my size. Do not doubt me when I say I will wash your mouth out, Mr. Vaughn. I am very serious."

He continued to scrub, until he was convinced that the soap taste was gone. "Obviously. So what's the problem with swearing?"

"Profanity is completely unnecessary and my son does not need to be subjected to it so young."

Michael cocked an eyebrow.

End Flashback

I snapped back into reality and the present as I heard Sydney laughing uproariously. "You washed Vaughn's mouth out? With soap? We are talking about the same Vaughn, right? Michael Carter Vaughn?"

"Yes, Michael C. Vaughn. I told him to watch his mouth and he laughed so I proceeded to show him I meant what I said."

"Does he swear anymore?

I shrugged, taking another sip of my tea before meeting her eyes. She started to laugh again as she saw the playful look in my eyes. "If he does, he doesn't do it around me."