Ash
Description: Taking the time to smell the ashes. What if Sydney came to find him when Vaughn was burning down his house? Post S3. SV
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Authors note: It has been hard finding the inspiration to write recently and I thought it was because I was becoming too dependant on songs to provide my inspiration. But I spotted a couple sitting in the city the other day, eating lunch in silence, his arm around her shoulders. They looked peaceful, protected, and I knew I had to give this story to Sydney and Vaughn. So this is dedicated to that couple, whose love inspired me to write again.
1/1
He stood in front of his house. He could no longer refer to it as a home. Home was somewhere warm, loving, safe. This building represented betrayal, lies, distrust.
It was a big house, bigger than they had needed really. When he had taken his mother to see it, she had taken an immediate distaste to it. Her exact words were "a home should represent the people who live there". And in the end, it did. They bought a house with flaws. There were cracks in the walls, stains in
the carpets. They planned to fix it up, take time off work and enjoy some time together. But instead they filled it with furniture, covering up the cracks instead of repairing them. The furniture was perfect, as if they had paid for an interior decorator, and anyone who came to the house marvelled at its elegance. That was Lauren – the perfect illusionist.
The thought to destroy his house wasn't something he had planned. That morning he had woken up and Weiss' house and decided to clear his head by going for a drive. It brought him here. Weiss had spared him the task of selling all of his belongings. They now sat in storage, waiting for the day that Vaughn would be
ready to face them again. He opened the front door and stepped inside. A strange scent hit him, the stale air a shock to his senses. It was something Lauren was obsessed about – the smell of fresh air in their home. She said she had spent summer at her grand parents' home in Northern England, which was dark and stuffy. She associated those smells with the fact that her parents were too busy to spend their summer with their only daughter. Vaughn now wondered if this was a lie, or a small truth she had allowed to enter their marriage. He preferred to think of it as a subtle truth, and took some comfort in that.
All of her belongings were still there. Her make-up still lay strewn across the bathroom sink. Her clothes still hung in the wardrobe. A picture of her and some friends still sat on the mantle piece. Vaughn guessed Weiss didn't know what to do with these things, deciding to leave them for another day. But Vaughn knew what to do.
He walked out into the back garden. The grass was over grown, the garden covered in leaves not raked. This was another one of their great plans, to build an area to entertain. Vaughn knew he wasn't a gardener, but he agreed. He always agreed. There was a small shed to one side, which Lauren had arrived home with one night. In the dark, he found what he was looking for – lighter fluid.
The matches were still in the top drawer of the kitchen, as if waiting for him for all this time. He pushed the box open gingerly and pushed the wooden sticks around gently, as if contemplating his fate. The overgrowing sense of coming completeness was taking over him and he resolutely walked back upstairs.
He stood in the middle of their bedroom. It was empty now, except for the boxes containing her belongings. He knew this where he would start, where the betrayal was most obvious.
"You probably thought you had won, that you had managed to conceal your lie from me. The most ironic thing was that it was Sydney who first became suspicious of you. So this is my final tribute to you, to our marriage"
Vaughn ignored the overwhelming sensation of insanity and instead decided to revel in its freedom as he shouted to the empty room. Slowly he emptied the contents of the bottle on the carpet and as he walked out of the room, he tossed a lit match over his shoulder.
He sat on the lawn of a house across the street. He knew the owners were away on holiday, and even if they weren't they wouldn't mind him being there. He ignored the slightly damp feeling of the grass on his trousers and breathed in the scent of burning wood.
"Thought I might find you here"
He remained unmoved as she sat next to him.
"I called the fire service" Sydney tried again
He remained silent, not knowing how to respond.
"Can you please say something?" she begged, her voice now scared
"It feels like I am in a memory" he said, noting her surprise at his comment
"This must all feel like a bad dream" she responded, watching the growing fire with him
"I meant the smell. It reminds me of that night at your house, when they took you. I sat there for hours, in your living room. I was covered in ash and the smoke was stinging my eyes, but I couldn't move. The pain of sitting there was punishment for losing you, for not being able to protect you" he stated, his voice unwavering
She looked at him curiously. "Then why did you burn your own house?"
He shrugged. "Maybe the smell of ash reminds me of my downfalls"
She pondered on this for a moment. "This is kinda an extreme way of torturing yourself"
He shrugged again, his expression still blank. "It wasn't the happiest of homes"
He stiffened as her head came to rest against his shoulders, but soon relaxed in the softness of her company. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, like he had all those years ago when they had been quarantined and pressed a kiss to her hair. He breathed her in.
"I love the way you smell" he murmured
She laughed gently. "And why is that?"
"Because it always blocks out the smell of the ashes"
Their eyes locked for the first time since she arrived and they shared a smile. As her head returned to his shoulder and the sounds of sirens filled the air, he realised there was no one else he wanted to share this show with than her.