-Nightmare-
Vaughn shifted restlessly on Weiss' couch, unable to get comfortable. He grabbed the back cushions and threw them on the floor in an attempt to make more room. He re-fluffed his pillow, punching it twice for good measure. No luck.
He sat upright and rubbed his eyes into focus. Grabbing his watch off the coffee table, he strained to read the hands in the slit of moonlight that poured in from the window. It was well after three; and Vaughn was wide-awake.
With a heavy sigh he acquiesced to futility and admitted to himself that there was no hope of further sleep. He stood to stretch. As he lifted his arms over his head, he rotated his neck to relieve some of the kinks. Finding a particularly nasty knot, he used his hands to knead the muscle. When he tilted his head to allow for better access his eyes fell on Weiss' sliding glass door.
Taking one last stretch, Vaughn scuffed on his shoes and grabbed his Kings sweatshirt, pulling it over his head as he walked to the door and out onto the small deck. He critically eyed the lone piece of patio furniture. It was a rusty old folding chair that Weiss had obviously acquired from one of those garage sale tables labeled 'Free Stuff.' Those tables for some reason drew Weiss like a moth to a flame. Vaughn laughed to himself as he perched gingerly on the decrepit chair. Perhaps as a thank you to Eric he would buy him a matching set of functional, non-corroded chairs.
Leaning back, he took a moment to study the night sky. It was an uncharacteristically clear night in Los Angeles. Rarely could so many stars be seen. Recalling back to the days of his college astronomy course, Vaughn struggled remember how to locate the constellations. Finding a familiar pattern, he smiled. Cassiopeia, the ' w.'
As he searched the sky for Orion, a soft cry broke the night's silence. Startled, Vaughn automatically reached for his gun, immediately on the defensive. His hand came up empty on the soft flannel of his pajama pants. He had left it in the glove box of his car. Another cry caused him to tense, trying to pinpoint the origin. Sydney's apartment. His stomach clenched.
Cursing his lack of weapon, Vaughn decided he didn't have time to go search for a gun. Sydney was in trouble and she needed help now. Standing atop the deck's railing, he stepped easily across and onto Sydney's. He hastily approached her sliding glass door and gave it a tug. Locked. Vaughn looked quickly around the small deck. Latching onto one of the metal chairs from her patio set he drew it back like a club. Turning his head to shield his face, he slammed the chair into the glass, shattering the giant pane with a deafening crash.
All hope of stealth long abandoned, Vaughn pushed through the now useless door and into the kitchen, pausing only long enough to remove a knife from the wooden block. After scanning the empty living room he continued on to the bedroom. Finding the door slightly ajar and the house eerily silent, he readied the knife and peeked cautiously into the darkened bedroom. Not two inches in he suddenly felt the cold hard pressure of a gun barrel leveled against his temple and heard the resounding click of a drawn hammer echo through the stillness. Shit.
"Vaughn?" The gun fell from him with a soft whoosh.
"Sydney? Are you alright?" He flicked on the lamp and scanned for intruders, flushing with embarrassment when he realized that she was alone in her bedroom.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I…I was outside and I heard…you sounded like you were in trouble." He looked self-consciously at the knife still clutched tightly in his hand. "I'm sorry."
Relaxing slightly, Sydney walked to her bed and lowered herself onto the edge, placing her gun on the side table. She was exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping much lately, and when she did manage to doze off her rest was fitful and fraught with nightmares. Suddenly reminded of Vaughn's presence, she wondered what a wreck she must look like.
Vaughn drank in the sight before him. Sydney sat on her bed in a tank top and boxers, and her hair falling from her tussled ponytail, eyes heavily lidded. Her hard exterior had softened and in her eyes he saw unusual vulnerability. The sheets behind her were hopelessly twisted and both pillows lay on the floor. It looked as though she'd done more than a little tossing and turning. The background only added to the picture of fatigue. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and shelter her from the outside world, but instead settled for honest concern.
"Syd," Vaughn said softly as he approached her and placed his knife alongside her gun, "are you alright?"
"Yeah," she dismissed, "of course. I'm fine."
Unconvinced, he took a seat on the bed beside her and cupped her chin with his palm, turning her to face him. "Sydney, how often do you have nightmares?"
She smiled crookedly, "A little more frequently than I actually sleep." Immediately she recognized the look on Vaughn's face. It was sympathy. She certainly did not need that, especially from Vaughn. She attempted to back peddle. "I haven't been having them long, and they're not that bad really. Don't worry about it."
"I'd bet that you have had them for a long time. And I know that they are bad… I saw the effect one had on you when we were on the plane to Greece, remember? And tonight I heard you from next door. From the look of your sheets, you've been doing some wrestling. I want to worry about it, Syd. I care about you."
"It's not a big deal. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Please…I'm fine," she said again, as if by repeating the words she could force it to be true.
Realizing that Sydney would only continue to maintain her staunch denials, Vaughn chose not to press the issue. "Well, if you change your mind and decide that you would like to talk about it – you know you can come to me. And no matter what happens between us, I will always care about you. And I care about your well being," he shot her a sly smile, "which is why I'm going to go do something about that giant hole in the side of your house."
"That you created!" she countered lightly, grateful that he seemed to understand her need to deal with this on her own.
Vaughn arched an eyebrow. "I never said I didn't."
Smiling, Sydney reached to her side table and picked up the knife. Handing it to Vaughn she instructed, "Take this back while you're out there. And next time you're set on saving someone… I'd opt for the butcher knife rather than the bread knife."
Noticing his mistake for the first time, Vaughn laughed. He reached out to relieve her of the object, making sure his fingers brushed hers as he grabbed the wooden handle. Their eyes locked for only a moment, and he stood. "Where do you keep your broom?"
"Right this way," Sydney spoke as she rose and led Vaughn to a small closet in the hallway. She pulled out the broom and dustpan and handed them to him before continuing into the kitchen. "I'm going to make myself some tea. Would you like some?"
"I'd love some."
Sydney filled the kettle with water, watching as Vaughn began to sweep up the shards of glass scattered across her hardwood floor.
"You certainly did a number on that door."
He flashed her a saccharine, almost challenging smile, "I never go halfway."
Despite herself, she began to feel the tension drain from her body. It felt good to be able to tease him again. "Someday I'll teach you how to pick locks."
Vaughn looked up from the dustpan. "That would have involved me going around to the front door."
"Heaven forbid!" she mocked playfully.
"Hey! I thought you were in danger!" he protested with a half-hearted huff.
She shot him a skeptical look before placing the kettle on the stove and switching on the heat.
Turning serious, Vaughn shook his head. "I know you can handle yourself Syd, but you're not invincible."
"You think that you could protect me?" she asked dryly. She leaned her back against the counter and crossed her arms. "Didn't you pay attention in logic class? If A can kick B's ass, and B can kick C's, then C would not stand a chance against A."
Against his will, the corner of Vaughn's mouth kicked up, though he would never admit to smiling. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to be 'C' in this scenario?"
"Yes," she announced with a grin and a firm nod of her head.
"You think that you could kick my ass?" he asked with exaggerated incredulity, leaning the broom against the wall.
"I know I could," she said with confidence. "And so it follows that hypothetical intruder 'A' could pummel you as well."
"Is that a challenge, Bristow?" he demanded, approaching her slowly.
Smiling, she stood firmly in place. "No, Vaughn. It's a fact."
"Is it?" Attempting a surprise attack, Vaughn suddenly lunged at her, grabbing wildly for her waist. Dodging the anticipated maneuver, Sydney easily danced away from his reach and smacked him upside the head with her palm. Vaughn let out a small yelp.
Turning to face her, he narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so you're serious here. I was just going to give you a wedgie and call it a night, but now… now you're going to pay."
In a surprising display of speed, Vaughn managed to grab Sydney's wrist and twist it, forcefully pinning her arm against her back.
"What are you the school bully?" Sydney chided as she tried to angle her body enough to alleviate some of the pressure on her elbow. "Who still uses this move?"
"Come on," he pressed harder, "it's a classic."
"You're hurting my elbow," she said flatly.
"Say 'uncle,'" Vaughn taunted.
"You realize," Sydney replied seriously, "that I'm going to have to cause you pain."
"You wouldn't hurt a man in flannels…"
"Oh, wouldn't I?" As she spoke, she thrust her leg out behind her, knocking Vaughn off balance and sending him crashing to the floor. In a last ditch effort to maintain his equilibrium, Vaughn threw his arms around her waist, educing an unspy-like squeal as he drug Sydney down with him, his body absorbing her fall when she pitched forward, twisting in his grasp and landing on top of him in a fit of laughter.
Still chuckling, Sydney opened her eyes only to lock with Vaughn's. He was watching her with an intensity that was at once heated and needy. Her laughter caught in her throat.
Belatedly, she recognized the vulnerability of her position. She was lying on top of Vaughn, his arms locked firmly around her waist, his body flush against hers. Touching him had always been a risk; it was dangerous, the energy that it sparked. She felt her body react immediately, a tremor of desire racing through her. Her back was warm where his hand was idly tracing small circles, dipping cautiously under the hem of her shirt, brushing over her skin. Unbidden, memories of languid mornings spent tangled together in bed flashed through her mind. She could still feel the familiar tingling sensation of his lips touching hers, the same feeling that was coursing through her now as she felt every point of contact with his body like the touch of an electric current. Her hands clenched involuntarily, gripping the front of his sweater, pulling him closer.
Sydney watched captivated as Vaughn unconsciously licked his lips.
"So beautiful…." he breathed unsteadily.
"Vaughn," she rasped on an indrawn breath, her inner conflict nearly tangible. She willed herself to pull back, to get up, to do anything other than to close the remaining distance and press her lips against his.
Her heart refused to listen.
She sank into him, laid a barely there kiss on his lips, then pulled back, only to return for a longer, harder taste.
The shrill whistle of the kettle pierced the room, shattering the moment.
Sydney broke away, abruptly rising and putting as much distance as she could between herself and Vaughn. Guilt swamped her. Weak. I am so weak to have given into him. Why aren't I stronger? She couldn't do this to him. Berating herself, she fled to the sink, awkwardly straightening her clothing.
Vaughn slowly sat up, his senses reeling, his breathing rough, trying to regain some small measure of control over himself. Whatever was happening with Sydney, he had to get to the bottom of it. After only one kiss all of the emotions that he had bottled up since his declaration last week came flooding to the surface. He was shattered instantly. Irrevocably. He couldn't go on without her.
After pulling the kettle off of the stove, Sydney opened the cupboard and retrieved two mugs. Standing up, Vaughn carefully took both from her and filled them with hot water while Sydney looked distractedly through boxes of tea.
"Peppermint, Chamomile or English Breakfast?" she asked, her voice tight, her spine stiff.
"English Breakfast."
She nodded once and pulled out two teabags, handing one to Vaughn and keeping the other for herself. He watched as she submerged the bag in her water and stared intently as she bobbed it up and down, leaving the water darker and darker with each successive dunk.
"Syd…" he began, struggling against the ache to touch her. He could still taste her on his lips.
She looked up at him and summoned all of the composure that she could gather, "Don't." While her tone booked no argument, conflict raged in her eyes.
"What are you afraid of? I don't understand."
She tore her gaze from his, "I know, Vaughn. I'm sorry. I should never have done that. I shouldn't lead you on."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Now she was… "Lead me on? But, Syd, we're…"
She managed to keep her voice cool as she continued to take her aggression out on the defenseless tea bag, "No. There is no 'we.' There is you and there is me and there is the past. There is no 'we' and there is no future."
Vaughn recoiled as if slapped, stung by the finality in her voice.
She submerged the teabag a few more times and then removed it, tossing it forcefully into the trash. She glanced at the tea for a moment before dumping it down the drain and setting the mug in the sink. "I'm going back to bed. Don't worry about the door," she said, already making her way to her bedroom.
Vaughn watched her leave, uncomprehending. Why was she being so obstinate? Why couldn't she give them another chance? Before, he had tried to convince himself that Sydney might no longer want him; that they were over forever. He had tried to accept it. But when she kissed him he could feel the connection between them. It would always be there; and if that kiss was any indication, she knew it just as well as he did. His mind continued to race as he distractedly stared into his mug. By the time he finally placed it to his mouth it was already stone cold. Sighing, he decided to sweep up the remaining pieces of glass, choosing to ignore her comment about not cleaning up.
As he poured a final dustpan of glass into the garbage, he though he heard a soft whimper coming from Sydney's bedroom. Vaughn crept toward the sound as it became louder and more distressed. He quietly slipped inside the partially cracked door when he saw Sydney in the throes of another nightmare. He watched as she tossed and turned, her face a mask of desperation. It was impossible to sit by and watch. Trying to banish her last harsh words from his mind, he crossed to the bed.
Leaning in, he whispered consolingly, "Syd… Sydney, wake up. Please, Syd, you've got to wake up. You're having a nightmare."
His heart breaking for her, Vaughn moved closer. Tentatively he reached out, placing a hand on her head and running his fingers lightly through her hair. He tenderly shushed her, soothingly repeating her name. Finding that he had a positive effect, Vaughn continued the motion of his hand and sat gently on the edge of her mattress.
"Syd, honey…wake up. Come on, Syd. Shh… you're okay. It's okay, Sydney, I'm here."
Though the crying had calmed, her body was still wracked by violent tremors as she shifted restlessly in her sleep. Lying down beside her, Vaughn pulled her into his embrace and held on tightly, swaying back and forth. Soon her stirring subsided and her breathing leveled, gradually returning to normal. He held her long after she had drifted into a peaceful slumber, much longer than he should have. Vaughn looked at Sydney, always beautiful and now quiescent, and knew he had to go. He kissed her forehead and eased out of the bed, faintly whispering "I love you" before disappearing out the door.
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Hey guys! I just wanted to say that I really appreciate those of you who take the time to read (and hopefully enjoy) this story. And I especially appreciate those who make the effort to review. You make my day… and I write this for you. J