Chapter 4: Time

Human beings were designed for many things, but loneliness is not one of them. You're clinging to pillows and wrapping the sheets tightly around you, like if you did these things you wouldn't notice that there was no else there, just a tangled mess.

Because that's what you are, isn't it? A tangled mess. You can't distinguish where one thought ends and another begins. You have no perception of time. You don't know how fast, or painstakingly slow, it's moving. All you know is that time is passing. You're not sure how much or how little, you only know that it is passing. And maybe, in this respect, it is as if time is standing still. But you don't want to think about that, because it reminds you of him. Or who he was pretending to be.

See, time stopped once before. Of course, you didn't know it at the time but it happened nontheless.

Or did it?

"This watch belong to my father..."

Did it?

"...and when he gave it to me, he said..."

Did your father say things like that? Did he even have a watch?

"...you could set your heart by this watch."

Did you set your heart by that watch? Was your heart beat in sync with the its ticks?

"It stopped October 1st - the day we met."

Did your heart stop? Did it even skip a beat? Was it ever beating at all? Do you even have a heart?

You begin to suspect that he doesn't because if he did have a heart, he woudn't have lied to you for this long. Or, at least, that's what you're telling yourself.

A part of you wishes that you were still in the hospital, at least then they could fix the problem. The problem would be tangible, curable and they could make it better. But now, left to your own devices, there's nothing that can make this better. They say that time heals all wounds, but you're not even sure if time will help this time.

Especially if it keeps stopping.

There's a knock at your bedroom door. You look up and it's the one person that you never wanted to see again, but somehow wanted to see more than anything.

You hate this, these conflicting feelings. You wish things were simple.

You want him to leave.

But you can't bear for him to go.

But that's not how it goes. You want him to leave but you can't bear for him to go. You can't bear for him to go but you want him to leave.

You don't want him to lie to you.

But you don't want him to tell you the awful truth either.

It seems like everything is a contradiction these days.

"Hey," you find yourself saying, although you're fairly certain that you haven't opened your mouth yet. Of course, certainty really doesn't mean anything anymore. There were things you were certain about before, and you shouldn't have been. Because nothing is certain. You wonder if you'll ever fully grasp that concept. What irony, the only thing that is certain is that nothing is certain. Although now that you think that, it will probably become uncertain, just to smite you.

"That was my line."

He tries to smile. You don't.

"What do you want?"

Again, you're unsure if you're actually speaking. But you must be, because he can hear you.

"I want..." he trails off.

Is the question really that difficult? You thought that it was fairly simple. Of course, you could come up with questions that were far more difficult.

Why are you doing this?

Why did you say those things?

Why wasn't it an accident that I walked into your office that day?

Why me?

Why you?

Why did you have to happen to me?

Why?

Mostly, you just want to know the last one.

"To talk," he finally finishes.

You sit, pondering this. "Fine. Talk."

He begins to open his mouth.

"No, wait. I changed my mind. I'll talk, you'll listen."

And suddenly, you know that your mouth is open and your lips are moving but you don't want them to. You want them to close and not form these words that you are saying.

"I've had time - I'm not exactly sure how much time, my grasp of time is a little fuzzy these days - but time nontheless, to think about things. And I'm at a loss because I don't know what to think. And I'm pretty sure that if I could, I would hate you. And I don't know what's worse: wanting to hate you or not being able to. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with ability, because I want to hate you. I want to hate you so badly. But I can't. I just can't, and I don't know why. But I've come to the conclusion that I must not have the ability to hate you. I wish I did though. Because I would hate you, I would hate you so much. But I can't. And I guess I'll just have to live with that."

You're words are mumbled and you're pretty sure you've repeated yourself. But then again, you're not even meaning to say these words.

You continue, still not wanting to say these words but not being able to do otherwise.

"I always thought I was pretty good at the whole undercover thing. I thought that I kind of became the person I was pretending to be. But now I see that I was an amateur compared to you. I mean, I needed wigs and outfits. All you needed was yourself."

You pause, then continue.

"So, was Michael Vaughn just another alias? Do you think that since you've been pretending so long, that you've actually really become him? Or were you ever him to begin with? Were you able to keep up the facade without ever letting yourself believe that he was a person? I don't know, maybe he never existed. Maybe he was just a collection of picture frames and personality traits, green eyes and old watches who made speeches about his father being a star on a wall and how some things never change."

"I swear to you, Sydney. I'm me. I'm the same person you've always known. I love you. You have to believe that."

"It's interesting, the things you'll allow yourself to believe. I let myself believe that Michael Vaughn would never betray his country. I was so naive. I actually said that you would never do that. I was so sure about it, too. I was so stupid. I couldn't even see what was right in front of my face. And when they asked me to spy on you, I said that I could never betray someone that I loved. Obviously, you could."

After you say this, you realize that you're making the mistake of still letting yourself believe that he loves you. Maybe he does. Maybe he always did. Maybe he never did.

"I didn't betray you. I would never -" he lets out a heavy sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose and you can see the forehead wrinkles begin to form. "I didn't have time to explain. But I want to. I want to tell you everything."

You cross your arms. "Why now?"

"What?"

"Why tell me all this now? Why not...before?" Before what, you're not exactly sure. Before this, maybe. Before this moment. But of course, if he had told you before now, this moment never would have occurred, or maybe it would have, just differently.

See what I told you about the tangled mess?

"It wasn't the right time, then."

"And now, is it?"

"I don't know."

"It's always about itme, isn't it? There's either too much time or not enough or it's not the right time. I guess timing really is everything."

"I just-"

"You know what? Your timing sucks. We were finally starting to have a quasi-normal existence. You know, finally getting back on track. I was happy and I was...I mean, I thought I was...in love." The last two words come out barely above a whisper. "And now, I can't believe a word you say. How can I, when everything between us was a lie?"

"It wasn't a lie."

But he doesn't know how to convince her of this. He doesn't know how to assure her that the betrayal, even though he wouldn't call it that, doesn't go as deep as she thinks it does. He wants to tell her that his watch really did stop that day and that he really did mean those things he said to her at the pier. And that he really does believe in her. And that she really does talk in her sleep.

And some things don't change, like the way he feels about her.

But what difference would it make if he told her all these things, what makes him think that she would believe him?

So he just softly repeats these words, like maybe if he says them enough with enough conviction, if he means them enough, then she will know that it's the truth.

"It wasn't a lie. It wasn't a lie."

Her eyes soften and she shakes her head. "I wish I could believe that."

But he knows that she can't. At least, not now. He would ask her to just have faith in him, but he doesn't know if she can do that either. Maybe all her faith is used up because she's had to take an awful lot on faith in her life.

Maybe she can't do that anymore.

Maybe she just doesn't want to.

And in this instance, what it comes down to really is faith.

She's standing up now, holding the door open for him. He turns to face her.

"You want to know the worst part of this whole thing?" He can see the tears shine in her eyes, brimming her eyelids. He knows that when she blinks, they'll fall. And he wants to catch them, but he knows that she won't let him.

He stays silent.

"I almost wish that you had lied to me. I loved you that much."

He says nothing, sadly noting the past tense.

He slowly makes his way to the door.

The tears are running down her face and she doesn't bother to brush them away.

As he steps through the door frame, she says,"I said you were my guardian angel once. It was a spur of the moment comment. It really didn't mean anything at the time. But over the years, that's exactly what you've been. But you know what? Angels fall."

And with that, she slams the door.