Chapter 5

Michael's POV

The next couple of days passed very, very slowly. Sydney spent most of it sedated, but her father didn't return after his initial visit. In fact, he'd left as soon as he'd walked out of Sydney's room, not wanting to be there when Francie or anyone else arrived. I was disappointed to find out he had gone, but I understood why.

Everyone else has been just as wonderful to Sydney these last two days as Jack was. They've been gentle and caring, doing whatever they could for her even though she didn't know they were there. Eric went to Sydney's house to get her portable radio and now I leave it on all day long. The doctors say they will stop giving Sydney the medicine this afternoon, and she should be awake by morning.

A short while after I arrived that next morning, Sydney opened her eyes. I watched as she tried to adjust to waking up in a strange place, waiting for her to speak first.

"Michael, what am I doing here? Did I hurt anyone?" She was almost immediately agitated, and I knew that was the last thing she needed. I sat on the bed, and kissed her gently on the lips. "No, everyone is fine. You got very upset the other day, Dr. Barnett sedated you, and we brought you here. You've been kept under by the medicine for the last two days, but now that you're awake, the doctors will want to see you. I'll stay right here with you. Do you remember anything from the other day at the office?"

"Only a little. I was so frightened... But he's not here anymore... I don't see Daddy anymore."

I sighed. "Good, I'm glad. Francie, Eric and Dixon have all been here to see you. Kendall too, if you can believe that. He said to tell you to take as much time off as you need. He already filed leave papers for you. Personally."

Sydney's eyes widened, and then she told me she was glad she wouldn't have to worry about work, at least for a while. Her voice sounded scratchy, so I poured her a glass of water from the pitcher beside the bed. After she'd drunk it, she turned to me again, her eyes dark and serious. "How long do I have to stay here? I hate hospitals, I want to go home!"

I frowned, even though I had expected this reaction from Sydney. "I don't know if you will have to stay or not, honey. The doctors will tell us for sure after they've talked to you. I should go call everyone before the doctors come in and want to talk to us. Everyone will be so happy you're awake."

Sydney's POV

After Michael left, I laid there in the bed trying to remember everything about the attack of illness that had brought me here. No matter how I tried, parts of it were lost in haze. One minute, I saw myself sitting behind Michael's desk, and the next I was cowering in a corner. The last thing I could remember was Barnett's voice, and the prick of a needle in my arm.

I was almost sorry to be awake, back where I had to think about how sick I'd been. I felt like everything from the past year was starting all over again. Only this time, it was worse. I dimly remembered the crushing feeling of paranoia, believing my father was following me. I'd been through enough already to know I didn't want to deteriorate any further.

Before Michael returned, a doctor entered my room, and smiled when he saw I was awake. I didn't return the smile. "Good morning," I said flatly.

"Good morning, Ms. Bristow. How are you feeling?" He was talking in that overly-friendly way doctors had which I completely despised.

"You don't really care how I am," I beagn coldly. "I was drugged and brought here... I'm better now, and I want to go home."

"You were very ill, and you should stay here a little longer. I came here to talk to you and find out how long that should be. My name is Dr. Coldwell. I'm one of the psychiatrists on staff here. Noone likes being in the hospital, and I'm sorry you're unhappy. If you'd like to wait a while before we talk, I can come back after lunch."

I wasn't used to hearing a doctor be so sincere and accomodating. I glanced at him with a puzzled expression. "You're really serious. You'll wait... Until I'M ready?I've never met a doctor like you. They're usually so bossy."

He chuckled, not unkindly. "I suppose you're right about that. You do still look tired, and you must be hungry. I'll come back after lunch. Will there be someone else here with you then? Most people like to have someone else in the room when they talk to me."

For the first time, I smiled just a little. "My fiance will be here," I whispered. "He can... fill in anything I might not be able to tell you. Is that okay?"

"That's fine. That's not as rare as you might think, not remembering everything that happens when you're ill. We'll take everything as slow as you need it to go.I'll come back around one o'clock and see if you're ready to talk. If not, we can wait until tomorrow."

I thanked the doctor, and he left quietly. A moment later, Michael returned, and I told him what the doctor had said. "That's great, Sydney. I'm glad you like him. It will make things easier."

"Yes, I guess it will. I'm glad you called everyone to give them the news... But they aren't all coming here at once, are they? I think I'll get a little overwhelmed by so many people."

Michael assured me everyone wouldn't be bearing down on me at once. Francie arrived soon after that, followed by Eric and Dixon. I was very happy to see them all in turn, and had a wonderful time visiting with them. I felt so normal, so whole... That feeling was broken when the psychiatrist showed up at one as promised. When I saw him, the smile on my face immediately dropped away.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your visiting," he said sincerely. "Everyone can come back afterwards... If you're all willing to wait about an hour, that is." Everyone told the doctor they were willing to go out of the room until he was done. Michael began to follow behind Eric when I called out that I wanted him to stay. He paused, looking at the doctor doubtfully.

"It's fine, Mr. Vaughn. Sydney said earlier that she would like you to stay here while we talk. Unless you'd rather wait outside... But you are allowed to stay, if you like."

Michael sat down on the edge of my bed and took my hand before the doctor began asking me questions. At first he asked only general ones about my illness, and those I could answer well enough. Soon though, when he began asking specific questions about my attacks, Michael had to answer more and more of his inquiries. I began to feel very embarrassed that I could no longer answer any but the simplest of his questions. During one long response Michael had to give all by himself, I turned my face toward the window and began to cry. I heard both Michael and Dr. Coldwell pause, then Michael's hand came to rest gently on my shoulder.

"Syd," he began gently. "It's okay that you don't remember everything. That's what I'm here for, to fill in the blanks for you. But if you're just too tired, maybe we can finish up tomorrow."

I laughed, and heard a surprising edge of bitterness in it. "I've been 'asleep' for two days, Michael. How could I be tired?" I turned back to face them both, tears still running down my face. "It's just... I know how sick I was last year, and the other day. I don't want to go back to the way I was, needing someone to take care of me twenty-four hours a day. It's not fair to anyone that loves me. Not to mention I don't think I could come through it all a second time. What if I do more than burn myself this time?"

"Sydney," the doctor began. "I think that you'd do very well if we put you on an anti-psychotic medication. You couldn't go back to work until you were off the medicine again... but you also wouldn't have to stay here as an in-patient. You could go home, take the medication regularly, and only come here so I could monitor your condition, once a week. Of course, I should observe you for a few more days before I make the final decision, but how does that sound so far?"

I smiled for the first time since Dr. Coldwell had come in. "It sounds... better than I expected. I thought I'd hear you telling me I was so irrational there was nothing anyone could do. Still, going on medication will make me feel like a failure. I should have tried harder to get better on my own, or just let Michael help me. Isn't taking some kind of drug the same as admitting that nothing else does any good?"

"No, Sydney," he said quietly. "Even if you do go on the medicine, that doesn't mean you can't let Michael do all the things he's always done to help. There will be times you will need both, I'm sure. Pills aren't a miracle. They're just meant to make your life more normal, which is what you say you want, so..."

The doctor paused and turned toward the door as a nurse entered. "Excuse me, doctor," she said, clearly very sorry for having to interrupt our session. "I know I shouldn't have come in right now, but Ms. Bristow has a visitor. She says she's come all the way from France, and I didn't want to say she had to wait. She told me she's here about something very important."

"It's all right, we were nearly finished. It can wait until tomorrow."

The doctor got up and walked out before either Michael or I could protest that I wasn't expecting a visitor, least of all one all the way from France. We sat there waiting for the mysterious visitor to enter the room. In those few minutes, one terrible idea of who it might be popped into my head. I squeezed Michael's hand tighter. "I'm scared," I admitted. "If it's her coming to see me, I don't think I..."

I was spared having to complete my thought when the door opened again. I was so relieved to see that the person who walked through the door wasn't my mother that I smiled. The young woman standing in the doorway smiled back.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I knnow you've never met me before and this will all be sudden, but I had to come." She paused as she stepped further into the room, looking down nervously. "I've actually known about you for a few years, but I didn't have enough money or information to make the trip on until now."

My stomach was tied in knots as I spoke again, wishing I didn't sound so nervous. "What brought you all this way? The nurse told us you came about something important."

"I did... But I was told why you're here in the hospital, and I don't want my news to upset you. So I'll take this as slowly as I can, if you don't mind listening for a few minutes."

Michael and I assured the stranger she was welcome to go on, and she took the chair beside my bed. After giving us her name, Jacqueline, she went on to say that she had grown up in France, but had known from an early age that she was adopted.

"I didn't want to hurt my parents' feelings, because they were good people. But from the day I knew I had another family, I wanted to learn everything I could about them. My adoptive mother was able to tell me a little bit about my birthmother, but she was the only member of my other family that they had ever met. It was from her that they learned my father and sister lived in America. Once I was old enough, my mother gave me all the information she had. That's what lead me to you. I'm so glad to finally meet you, Sydney. I'm sorry if this is upsetting, or confusing, but I had to come."

I sat there a moment, absorbing the meaning of her words. Michael was so still I barely realized he was there. I was silent so long, Jacqueline took it as meaning she'd upset me, and she began to apologize again. I held up a hand to stop her.

"No, I'm glad you came. I admit I'm surprised... but happy too. Did your mother ever tell you... Where did your name come from?'

My question hung in the air for what seemed like an hour, though it was only seconds. All three of us knew why I had asked that particular question, and that the answer would be the proof I needed as to whether the person in front of me was really my sister.

"My mother always told me I was named after my father," she answered. "She told me his name was Jonathan."