Phantasmagoria
Chapter 7
A/n: For some reason, this was possibly the most difficult chapter I've ever written. It took me forever to get it started even though I knew exactly what I was going to write. But enough about that, I have to warn you.
This is the last chapter of this story, and then there will be an epilogue. You might not like me so much when you finish reading this. But the epilogue will explain everything, and I mean everything.
But for the next few minutes, just pretend like you didn't read that. …Enjoy!
Luckily Sydney and Leah are able to return home after a week in the hospital of observation. Little Leah has begun to grow and gain a healthy weight, and the doctors deem her physically fit to be left in the care of her mother. Sydney is extremely grateful to be out of bed and back into normal attire, though she feels a bit cautious as she gently lays her sleeping daughter into the car seat; she loathes not possessing her in her arms. Of course, it's fine when Vaughn is holding her, or a close friend, but then Sydney can keep her eyes focused straight on the baby and not have to worry. She dislikes having her daughter alone and behind her.
"Sydney, she'll be okay. It's only a fifteen minute drive." Francie stands with the car door open on the driver's side, staring at Sydney with a playful smile under a cocked eyebrow.
"I know, I know," Sydney admits reluctantly. "Can't I just hold her?"
"Oooh," she scoffs at her friend, "come on." With pursed lips, Sydney checks that Leah is secure, closes the door, and slides into the passenger front seat. After buckling her seatbelt, she turns to watch her little one, but is stopped as Francie revs the engine. "She's fine," she assures her, and Sydney begrudgingly slips her body back to face forwards.
Her fingers tug at the hem of the t-shirt she is wearing; she glances at Francie. She watches her eyes scan the road ahead of her, occasionally darting to a mirror, checking here, looking there. Sydney lets out a deep breath and tries to relax the tense muscles in her back, and her eyes slip shut. She does not think, but merely rests with her eyes closed.
In this state she thinks about many things, including sleep– or her recent lack of – as well as her husband, her new baby, and of course her best friend. While Vaughn was graciously allowed a few days vacation following the birth of his child, he did have to return to work. Sydney threatened to call Kendall himself and demand more time, but Vaughn told her it was no use. She is deeply disappointed he will not be at the house for his daughter's homecoming, but she smiles at the thought of him greeting him later.
His absence is the reason Francie drives them home now. She plans to help Sydney settle in this morning, staying for as long as Sydney needs her. While she is glad Francie will help, there is no one Sydney wants more than her husband.
Sydney reopens her eyes just as Francie turns onto their street. Her daughter had not made a sound throughout the trip, and Sydney knows she is still asleep, yet she twists to look anyway as the car comes to a stop in the driveway. Immediately Sydney unbuckles herself and hurries her feet onto the concrete, her hand flying to the back door and swinging it open. She finally slows herself to take Leah from her car seat, and Sydney coos softly as she nestles back in her mother's embrace, where she belongs.
Francie carries a few things behind her as Sydney makes her way to the front door, careful not to disturb the baby while pulling the key from her pocket. When she opens the door, she whispers, "Look, Leah, we're home." Stepping inside, Leah shifts herself slightly, and Sydney chuckles to herself as if she understood.
She hums over the bassinet set up in the living room and gingerly lays her daughter down. She stands for a moment, hovering over her sleeping form in awe. This is her daughter, this is what she created with Vaughn, who they created. It feels new and exciting, frightening at times, yet strangely natural. At last a warmth emanates from inside her, and she recognizes the feeling of relief. Sighing happily, she eases into the corner of the couch and gives Francie a true smile. "She's perfect," she tells her friend, as she has already told her several times.
"She is," Francie agrees, smiling in Leah's direction. Then, "You fed her an hour ago, right?"
Sydney nods. "She'll be all right for at least two hours." She notices the look of worry hidden in Francie's face, and biting her lip, says something. "Look, I know you want to stay and help, and I'm truly thankful for that, I am, but right now… I just want some time alone with her."
Slowly the worry transforms into a second of being heartbroken, followed by a solid look of understanding. "Okay," Francie says quietly. Sydney thinks that she has hurt her feelings, and begins to protest her prior comment, but Francie stops her. "Just call me tomorrow. Okay? I'll make you lunch or something."
Sydney agrees, and hugs her friend good-bye, and finally she is at home with her child. She has dreamed of this day for many months now, though wishes deeply that Vaughn was by her side. Knowing she would see him later, she decides it is better than nothing.
She spends the rest of the morning and afternoon lightly napping, feeding and changing Leah, watching her sleep, and holding her tenderly. Every so often she gently strokes her soft cheek and kisses her bald head, declaring her love with each action.
Sydney has just fed Leah on the living room couch when Vaughn returns home. Greeting each of his girls with a kiss, he gleefully takes his daughter into his arms and nuzzles his nose against her tiny one. "Hello, Leah Nicole," he says, "I love you." Sydney's hand barely touches his arm, beckoning him to sit next to her without words. He complies with ease, and Sydney kisses him again. "Daddy missed you today," he tells the baby, her small eyes opening to study her father's face, a look of loyal concentration.
"It's good to have her home," Sydney says, leaning her head upon her husband's shoulder. Her fingers lightly massage the top of their daughter's head.
"Yes, it is," he decides, once again nuzzling his nose against hers. "Can I quit my job and stay here with you?"
"I would love that, but we wouldn't eat."
They smile. "Good point."
Several weeks pass by faster than Sydney expected, yet slow enough for Sydney to enjoy her newborn daughter. People come to visit daily, Francie and Will, the Dixons, Weiss, Marshall, once or twice, and of course Jack. They squeal about Leah's beauty, gush about what a wonderful baby she is, bring her presents of stuffed animals and adorable baby clothes, Sydney can only thank them. Francie and Jack visit the most, more out of concern that Sydney is alone with a baby all day long and may need assistance then to visit the precious bundle of joy, yet they always do.
Each night Sydney revels in Vaughn's reappearance at the front door. Their evenings are delightfully easygoing and cheerful as they spend time learning about their daughter and taking care of her together. Sydney comes to find that Vaughn's observation was wrong, however, as time elapses: Leah looks nothing like her mother, but quite resembles her Grandfather Bristow. Her small, watchful eyes turn a dark shade of brown, her tiny button nose developing straighter, though still perfectly rounded at the top, tufts of hair emerging on her scalp a brownish black Sydney can remember only from pictures.
Now more alert, Leah will not sleep for her audience of viewers, but opts to play vigil until the unknown guests leave, and she is certain her mother is under no harm. Sydney finds it endearing yet tiresome as her daughter's genetic nature ruin her newly formed sleeping habits. Still she wakes several times a night, demanding a familiar presence by her side. Vaughn takes his share of night time awakenings, but Sydney feels more exhausted than ever.
One rare morning when Vaughn is home he urges his wife out the door after her shower. It takes all through their breakfast and Leah's to convince her. "You haven't left the house in a month. Go, do something for yourself, I'll take care of Leah." In a loving way he tickles the soles of her still tiny feet, and she coos softly from her swinging chair that rests on the table and bounces her legs up and down. He picks her up to blow raspberries into her stomach and she replies with a toothless grin, staring at her mother.
She takes hold of Leah's small fist and presses it to her lips. "All right," she consents. "But only for a little while. There's extra milk in the fridge, and–"
He stands and kisses her to prevent her from further stalling. "Syd, I know. We'll be fine, won't we, Leah Beah? Now go." As he spoke he nudged her forward, grabbing her keys and lightly shoving her towards the door.
Finally, she leaves, not entirely sure where she is driving but content to obtain a long awaited solitude. Still thinking on Mommy Mode she heads to the grocery store to pick up a few items they have run out of, namely diapers. Returning to her car, she decides she does not want to go anywhere, but drives aimlessly around Los Angeles to kill time and make her husband happy.
Vaughn headed out to the bookshop one morning, leaving his wife asleep in bed. She deserved to sleep in, to enjoy her last days of summer holiday before school started. He found it amusing how she pretended to dread its coming, though secretly anticipated it. He couldn't keep her from those kids for too long.
He returned home at lunch, surprised to discover Sydney still sleeping, then again it was not at all shocking after they stayed up rather late last night, and, er, well into the wee hours of the morning…
Sydney felt someone nudge at her arm, and she groaned, rolling over to ignore it. "Too early," she grunted.
"Too early? It's 12:30!"
Reluctantly she turned over and opened her eyes, finding Vaughn kneeling on the floor, his arms curled under his chin and resting on the edge of the mattress. "Then it's too cold," Sydney decided.
"It's twenty-five degrees out." She ignored the warm weather report and snuggled deeper into the blankets. "I come home to see if my lovely wife would join me for lunch, and here I find her still in bed."
"Well, you kept me up late again last night, Mr. Avery," she adds with a playful smile.
"We could go to sleep at a decent hour if you prefer–"
"Fine, fine, I'm getting up. I'll shower while you make lunch?" He nodded, and she sat up in bed to stretch. Before he left the room she said, "And for the record, I wasn't complaining about you keeping me up too late!" She heard him laugh as he made his way downstairs, and she proceeded to the bathroom.
When she later entered the kitchen feeling awake, clean, and fresh, she found that Vaughn was ready to go. "Our usual spot?" he asked, and she instantly agreed. They drove into the city and parked behind the bookshop, then walked hand in hand a few blocks over to the school yard along the river. They seated themselves at a wooden park bench deteriorating with age, overlooking a large field and beyond that, a wide section of the Aare, particularly calm on this hot, windless conclusion to July.
Sydney smiled, nibbling on her chicken salad as she observed the scene before her. She and Vaughn had eaten lunch on that bench nearly every day since the weather permitted– she guessed mid-April after the freak snow showers ended and the grounded frost melted at last. Usually they would oversee groups of children running amok in the grassy terrain partaking in a football match or game of tag, begging the couple to join in the merriment.
In truth, she was delighted for the commencement of a new year. She would miss the extra time spent with her husband in the bookshop, but she dearly missed her students. And while tutoring them was a time consuming commitment, she couldn't wait to hear young voices greet her in excitement, "Frau Avery, Frau Avery! Look what I made!" and to hang new works of art on the refrigerator. She couldn't wait to hear their struggle with simple words like "witch" or "awesome." She couldn't wait to see their triumphant faces when they finished reading their first English book all by themselves.
She sighed contentedly today, enjoying the peace of the empty park and the idle chat with Vaughn. They finished eating quickly and meandered back to the bookshop bustling with tourists in the warm afternoon. But things calmed down later in the evening, and finally Sydney got a chance to talk with Ana.
"If I had known things were so busy today I would have come sooner," she apologized.
"Nonsense," she objected. "I insisted that Michael take his lunch break."
Vaughn approached, sneaking in beside his Sydney. "We'll be sure to come in early tomorrow. That is, if I can get Miss Sleepy-Head to wake up." For that, Sydney smacked his arm with a wry smile.
"Tomorrow? You mean Saturday? We're closed tomorrow."
Sydney and Vaughn shared a bewildered glance while Ana assisted a customer at the counter. "Why would we be closed tomorrow?" They were only closed on Sunday mornings and afternoons.
"Klaus didn't tell you?" They shook their heads. "Of course he didn't. Tomorrow's the first of August, Swiss National Day. The whole city shuts down and celebrates. I was sure I told Klaus to invite you over, but, well…" She roiled her eyes in the direction of the back room, Klaus's sanctuary. "You know him."
Since they weren't traveling to their house until four o'clock, they felt no guilt in sleeping in late the next morning after last night's pleasurable activities. Together they prepared a dish to bring and drove into the city. They quickly came to find driving more difficult than usual on the extremely crowded streets of Bern. Everywhere people waved flags, gathered in massive groups to hear someone speaking, and the national anthem could be heard playing around every corner. They eventually arrived at the Schlossers' home tucked away in the heart of the city. There they met their friends' relatives, celebrated, ate, and relaxed in the afternoon heat.
Sydney sat upon Vaughn's lap in a lawn chair surrounded by a flower garden, enjoying the day with one another. They had just finished eating dinner, an extensive barbequed meal courtesy of Klaus Schlosser, and Vaughn took Sydney's now empty plate with his and set them on the ground at his feet; she snuggled into his shoulder.
They sat quietly for awhile, though laughed together at Ana's young nieces and nephews growing restless as they anxiously awaited the night's fireworks and parade. "Happy August First," Vaughn grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she replied. Closing her eyes and smiling into his neck, she suddenly remembered something. A date, August First, though it had other magnitude. "Do you remember what today is?" He didn't. "August First is our first anniversary…"
"Then happy anniversary, Miss Scarlett. Now we really have a reason to celebrate." She smiled, and they each silently reminisced their last five months together in Switzerland. Sydney watched as the sunlight reflected off her diamond ring, glinting brightly. Vaughn watched as well. "Scarlett," he began solemnly, catching her full attention. He continued slowly, his fingers nervously twisting Sydney's ring around her finger, "If we weren't already married… Would you marry me?"
Sydney sat up straight, somewhat agape but simultaneously overjoyed. Only she could understand the true significance of his query. Bringing her hands to his face she kissed him hard on the kips. "Yes, yes I would marry you."
"Then I think Scarlett and Michael should renew their wedding vows…"
Instantly, she agreed. At that very moment they left the bustle of the Schlosser's unnoticed and ventured into the rejoicing city. It did not take them long to find a church with a priest willing to perform the ceremony, and before they knew it they were exchanging vows with the Swiss national anthem ringing loudly in the streets.
When they stepped out of the church, pronounced man and wife, an approving audience of the sky applauded them with booming fireworks, a scintillating array of red and white sparks showering them from above. Vaughn wrapped his arms around her as they gazed up into the darkness, the exploding lights overhead illuminating the tips of the mountains in the distance. Sydney could remember a time she sat with him in an office, reading the words:
Scarlett and Michael Avery
Married: August 1, 2002
Somehow, that memory had altered, for it now was distinctly written:
Sydney and Michael Vaughn
Married: August 1, 2003
A bad feeling befalls upon Sydney, deep in the pit of her stomach. It grows rapidly, seeping into her bloodstream and spreading into her limbs. Her hands shake as she turns to head home. The trees outside the window pass too slowly; she speeds up. Her breathing increments increase, her heart rate soars. Something is not right.
The bad feeling has developed into fear and worry by the time she arrives home to an empty house. She calls for her husband's name though she is certain not a soul exists inside. Her trembling hands are filled with fret as they pull her hair behind her ears, indecisive on a plan of action. Finally she darts for the phone and dials Vaughn's cell number, but there is no answer.
She has no choice but to leave; she stares at the house with apprehension as she pulls away in her car. Where is Vaughn? Where is Leah? She can only focus on these two questions as she finds herself at her father's apartment complex. Her hands scramble to locate her key in her purse, and she finally bolts through the door. Quickly she scans the living room and kitchen, then races around the corner in the hallway, stopping abruptly in the door to her father's office.
There Jack stands behind his desk in the middle of the room, slowly rocking a sleeping Leah in her carrier. "Thank God," Sydney whispers with relief, panting as she catches her breath. Jack remains frozen in his spot, the only motion is his hand rocking up and down, up and down. His expression is grimly stoic. "Where's Vaughn?"
"He's not here."
Sydney steps forward into the room, approaches the desk, and briefly runs her fingers through Leah's thin tufts of dark hair. "Where is he?" she asks again.
"Sydney, you can't do this." She pulls her hand away from the carrier and brings it to her chest. What is he talking about? The tone in his voice frightens her, and she edges away. "After Leah was born, I was quite hesitant about you living with her, and after watching you over the past month, I've made a decision."
"Dad," her voice shakes, "you're scaring me."
He seems not to hear her. "And I am certain you are not a suitable caregiver."
"What? Dad, I–" She continues to edge backward.
"You cannot leave Leah home alone!"
"I left her with Vaughn, what are you talking about? Where is he?" Tears brim at her eyes.
"Sydney, you cannot leave your daughter with Michael Vaughn!"
"Why not?" Her steps backward increase their pace.
"Because Vaughn is dead!"
Fin
A/n: Please review! Trust me- the epilogue will explain everything!