Sydney tapped her foot impatiently, holding the phone to her ear with one hand and rearranging a few books and toys on the shelf with the other. "I'm feeling fine, Maman," she assured Celia, reminding herself that it was normal for everyone to ask the same questions about the baby over and over, especially the future grandmother of the baby in question. She really didn't mind Celia's advice and frequent calls, and she usually called a few times a week anyway, but sometimes she just wanted to scream when people asked how she felt and if she was getting excited about her baby's birth, now fourteen weeks or so away. It seemed so soon to everyone, including Vaughn, but it felt like forever to Sydney. She was anxious to meet her child, but she was also tired of being tired. "I haven't been sleeping very well," she admitted.
"Well, I hope you're not working too much," Celia commented in concern.
"Oh no," Sydney laughed. "Not at all.You know how Michael is, and then you add my dad to the mix, and I don't do much of anything," she rolled her eyes. "But I've been taking some time off, anyway. There's not much for me to do right now, and I've been so tired it's just not worth it." She was almost surprised to hear the words coming out of her own mouth, but it was true. She missed having something important to do (even though Vaughn constantly reminded her that being a mommy was most important), but her pregnancy was taking a toll on her, and she really didn't have much motivation to trudge into work every day with a pounding headache and a sore back just so she could read a few reports.
Her newfound apathy began almost as soon as they returned from their impromptu vacation several weeks before. After spending a few days with Celia in San Diego, her father called and offered to help set up some additional security measures at the house. Vaughn, of course, jumped all over this, and Sydney felt a little relieved as well. So they extended their trip and spent a few days at Lake Arrowhead, relaxing and trying to put everything in Los Angeles far from their minds. She slept more that week than she had in a long time, but she came home just feeling tired. She knew a part of it was the baby, but the better portion was sheer emotional exhaustion. Going to work just reminded her of all the drama she wanted to forget, so she used the pregnancy as an excuse, and scaled back on her hours.
In all of her extra time, Sydney started to prepare the house for a baby. They still had a while, but as Celia reminded her, the closer she got to her due date, the less acitivity she would be up for. The anxiety and doubt was already keeping her awake, so she did everything she could to make sure the house was ready, even if she wasn't. She smiled to herself as she stepped back and surveyed her work in the spare room she and Vaughn decided to turn into a nursery. Originally they planned on making it the den, but since their bedroom was on the first floor, they moved the bookcase and desk to the extra room upstairs to make room for their baby just across the hall. In a moment of grandfatherly tenderness, her father had surprised her with the antique cherry crib she'd used as a baby. She had no idea he kept it in storage, but she was thrilled to have something from her childhood to share with her own child. Since then, she'd been adding pieces a few at a time, decorating and rearranging everything to her liking.
Vaughn tried to convince her to find out the sex of the baby, but she staunchly refused. Everything else about their child had been a surprise, so she figured the gender should be no exception. He was confident they would be meeting their baby girl in two months, so Sydney swore they were having a boy. In truth, she didn't have a clue, despite the insistence from other mothers that they "just knew" whether they were pregnant with a son or a daughter.
In accordance with the decision to keep the baby's sex a surprise, Sydney pored over decorating books in search of the perfect gender-neutral nursery theme. The moment she saw the adorable carrousel theme, Sydney knew it was perfect. Vaughn agreed, of course, and dutifully painted the room a light yellow as per his fiancée's request. The room was nearly finished now, and she spent the better part of the day adding the final touches to the decor.
Sydney straightened the watercolour print she had just finished hanging on the wall beside the bookshelf, and she smiled brightly as she heard the front door open. She and Vaughn were meeting Francie and Will for dinner this evening, so he made it home a little early to shower and change. "Syd?" he called down the hall.
"In the nursery," she yelled back.
He joined her just a moment later, greeting her with a sweet kiss before wrapping his arm around her waist and taking in the new decorations. "This is great, Syd," he praised. "You've been busy today."
"I have to do something to keep my mind from rotting," she rolled her eyes. "I'm so bored, Vaughn," she complained.
"I'm sorry," he laughed.
"No, you're not," she teased back.
"No," he conceded. "I'm not. I like having you home. And I like knowing that your life isn't in immediate danger. Are you sure you want to go back in the field after the baby's born?" he asked, just the slightest twinge of hope in his voice.
Sydney moved her hands to her stomach, her smile fading just a little as she studied his face. She hated that he worried about her so much, but she understood, and she couldn't fault him for being afraid that something might happen to her. She'd certainly had her share of nightmares, especially since the attempt on his life and the photograph reminding her how close she'd come to losing him. But the tiny kick against her hand reminded her why she had to go back in the field; she didn't want her son or daughter in the middle of this, and as long as Sloane was at large, her baby would be in danger. "Vaughn," she said softly, rising to her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "I promise, as soon as Sloane is gone, I'll quit. But you know I can't just sit on the sidelines and wait for someone else to find him…not when our baby's life is at stake."
"I know," he nodded sadly, sighing softly. "I love you anyway," he added, his lips turning upwards in a teasing smile.
"That's generous of you, Mr. Vaughn," Sydney laughed. "And I'm glad. I love you too."
Vaughn kissed the top of her head and released her so he could walk around the nursery and see what she'd added. "This is so perfect, Syd," he grinned as he examined a lamp now sitting on top of the dresser. "Our little girl is going to love it."
"You're impossible," Sydney sighed. "You know if we have a girl you're not going to be able to train a little hockey player," she pointed out.
"Who says?" he grinned. "She can be the first female player for the Kings."
"You'd let your daughter be surrounded by young male hockey players all the time?" she raised an eyebrow.
A flicker of fear lit his face, causing Sydney to burst out in laughter. He had already begun compiling a list of rules for who could and could not date his daughter, and she knew he would beat away the boys with sticks the moment they tried to touch her. "She can just be a Kings fan," he amended thoughtfully.
"That's what I thought. You want anything to drink?" she offered.
He nodded and followed her to the kitchen as they briefly discussed their days and the antics of Weiss and Marshall at the office. Sydney missed the adrenaline of field work, and her current desk duties kept her out of the loop when it came to the latest missions, but she quickly discovered that hearing all about the office happenings from Vaughn was almost as appealing, and a lot less taxing. She would never admit it to anyone, but she actually liked the domesticity they had attained. Something about him coming home in the evening and telling her about his day made her feel incredibly normal, and normal was worth the boredom that accompanied it.
Sydney retrieved a bottle of water and passed it to Vaughn just as the phone rang. He picked it up and mouthed that it was Weiss, indicating that she should go ahead and start getting ready for dinner without him. "Join me in the shower," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. He nodded enthusiastically, totally ignoring whatever Weiss was saying.
"Sorry, Weiss, can you say that again?" he asked as Sydney smirked and disappeared down the hall.
Fully confident that Vaughn would wrap up the conversation as quickly as humanly possible, Sydney turned on the water and slid into her robe. Unless they were running late for work, they rarely ever showered apart now. Vaughn argued that it saved water, but she playfully protested, reminding him that their showers now took twice as long as before.
Suddenly she heard his voice rising, taking on a nervous pitch as he continued to speak into the phone. Instinctively, she assumed it was a work call, and they wanted him back in for some reason or another. It seemed strange to her at first since she'd always been a field agent, but Vaughn only asked to be on active duty when he started working with her. He had to read his own share of dry reports, but there was more for him to do since he already had experience with the projects they assigned. She sighed to herself and prepared to call her friends to cancel, not really in the mood to go out if he couldn't come with her. Tonight had been Will's idea, and he'd been trying for the last two weeks to get them together.Though she and Francie had met a few times for lunch or shopping, the four of them hadn't been out in months. She started to stand and return to the kitchen, but just as she reached the door, she heard him wearily end the call and hang up. A few minutes passed and he still didn't appear, so she quietly padded down the hall to find him.
He stood against the wall, slumping heavily with his head in his hands. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight, immediately fearing the worst. "Vaughn?" she asked timidly.
He looked up, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Syd," he whispered brokenly.
"Vaughn, what is it?" she asked fearfully, not sure she wanted to hear the answer. "Do you have to go in?"
Vaughn shook his head, unable to look at her. "No," he rasped.
"Vaughn, please," she begged, beginning to sound a little desperate. "You're scaring me. What's going on?"
He took a deep breath and summoned the courage to look her in the eye. She immediately knew something was horribly wrong, and tears sprang to her own eyes. "Vaughn…"
He forced himself to a standing position and walked over to take her hand. He quietly led her to the couch, gently easing her down next to him and wrapping one arm securely around her, squeezing her hand with the other for comfort. She leaned heavily against him, trying to draw whatever strength she could from his embrace before he delivered the crushing news. She could still hear the shower running in the distance, but all thoughts of dinner were thoroughly erased from her mind, ruined by the heartbroken expression on his face. "Sydney, Honey," he began gently, his voice barely audible as his breath tickled her ear. "God, I don't even know how to say this," he murmured.
"Just tell me. Please, Vaughn," she pleaded.
"Syd," he began again, his breath hitching in his throat. He swallowed past the lump of emotion and held her tighter, as though he was afraid she might dissolve in his arms. "Syd, Will's dead," he finally managed.
Sydney stiffened in his arms, her mind shutting down as she refused to process what he'd told her. It couldn't be true; Will was just an analyst and a friend. She'd lost too many people in this life, and almost lost the one closest to her heart. Fate couldn't possibly be cruel enough to tear away another soul so vital to her existence. Vaughn pressed his lips against her hair and began to sway slightly, rocking her back and forth in a desperate attempt to alleviate just the tiniest ounce of her pain. Still, she refused to accept it, refused to believe that her closest friend could possibly be dead.
"Sydney," Vaughn whispered. "Syd, talk to me," he implored. "Say something," he tried again, terrified that she was going into shock.
"No," she rasped, shaking her head fervently. "No, it's a mistake. It has to be a mistake. He's just an analyst. He can't be dead, Vaughn…he can't be…"
"I'm so sorry, Syd," he breathed.
"Vaughn, please," she begged, eyes filling with tears. She just wanted him to tell her it was mistake, that there was some kind of mix-up with the information and that it wasn't really her friend that was dead. "We're supposed to go out to dinner," she cried. "We're all going out for dinner…"
Vaughn just shook his head, trying to hold her even tighter before she completely fell apart. "I'm sorry, Sydney," he murmured again, tears forming in his own eyes as she began to shake in his arms. "It was him, Syd. He's dead."
"How?" she sobbed. "Was it an accident? It had to be an accident…he's just an analyst. Why would anyone want to kill him? He didn't do anything wrong!"
"I know, Sydney," he whispered. "He didn't do anything wrong. He didn't deserve this."
Sydney could tell he was holding something back, trying to protect her from some horrible truth. "What happened, Vaughn?" she asked again. "Tell me what happened to him."
"Syd," he began softly, running his hands up and down her arms. "Francie…she found him. He was murdered, Sydney. He was in the bathtub."
Sydney's mouth dropped open in a silent scream, tears streaming wildly down her pale cheeks. She tried to stand, suddenly desperate to run away, as though she could escape this if she just ran far enough. But Vaughn pulled her back, unwilling to let her weather this alone. She finally found her breath, and the scream became audible as she crumpled in a heap into his lap. "No," she wailed. "No. Not Will. Not him…"
Vaughn clenched his eyes shut to stop the flow of tears in a noble effort to be strong for her. He could feel her anguish seeping into him, and his heart broke for her and for Francie. "I am so sorry, Sydney," he choked. "I wish I could give him back to you. I would do anything to give him back to you."
"He was just a man, Vaughn. He was just a man like Danny. He didn't do anything wrong. This is my fault, Vaughn," she cried, turning in his arms to sob against his chest.
"No," he swore firmly. "No, Sydney. This is not your fault. Don't even think that. You didn't deserve this anymore than he did."
She raised her head to look him in the eyes, surprised to see his face contorted in agony as well. His expression only made her cry harder as she thought of all the people who loved Will just as much as she did. "It was retaliation, Vaughn," she said, her voice just barely on the edge of sanity and hysteria. "He didn't kill us in Paris so he came after my friend. This is my fault. Will is dead because he's my friend, because he loves me."
"Sydney," Vaughn pleaded. "Sydney, look at me. Listen to me," he demanded. "Sloane did this, not you. No matter why Sloane did this, you are not the one that killed Will. It isn't your fault that he loved you, and I know for a fact Will would never blame you for this, just like Danny wouldn't blame you. I know you're hurting, but you HAVE to believe me when I tell you this is not your fault."
"But Vaughn," she protested tearfully, "they both died just because they loved me. Just like Sloane tried to kill you."
"He targeted you, Sydney. He's a sadistic bastard and he targeted you for reasons beyond your control. It's not fair that you've had to lose so many people, but you are not responsible for their deaths," he vowed.
She said nothing, allowing her sorrow to fully engulf her. Vaughn slowly eased them back until they were lying down, his arms wrapped around her and keeping her safe. The phone began to ring – probably someone else with condolences or news – but Vaughn ignored it. Sydney continued to cry, unable to even comprehend the fact that she would never see her friend again, never enjoy the easy banter between him and Vaughn and Eric, never laugh at his goofy grin or bad wardrobe choices. He was her oldest friend, and the first person to bridge the gap between her personal and professional life. Though it was Vaughn's arms that always provided her solace, Will's acceptance when he learned the truth about her life had given her the strength and confidence to continue the lies and secrets. Now one more person suffered because of her mistake, because of her naïve sense of patriotism and importance when offered a job with the CIA. No matter what Vaughn said to convince her she'd done nothing wrong, no one could deny the dangers of loving Sydney Bristow. Danny and Will were murdered, she killed Noah herself, and Vaughn had been spared because of a simple phone call. A second later and she would have lost him as well.
If she possessed the selflessness and the courage, she would leave him. She would give him their child and send them both far away so no one would ever touch them again. But she needed him too much. She couldn't survive this without him, and she couldn't even begin to imagine a life without him and their baby. "You can't leave me, Vaughn," she whispered, her voice still wavering even as the tears began to slow.
"I would never leave you, Sydney," he insisted immediately. "I love you. Why would I leave you?"
"Because you should," she answered bitterly. "He'll come after you, too."
"He won't find me, Syd. I'm not leaving you. I swear to you, we will get through this together. You, me, and the baby," he assured her.
"I can't do this without you," she whispered, echoing the familiar words she'd said so many times since Paris.
"I can't do it without you, either," he replied, surprising her with a different answer than he usually offered. It was always the promise, always a pact never to leave her to do anything alone. "I love you so much, Sydney. Every day I wish there was something I could do to make your life easier, to get you out of this life. But I can't, Syd. I can't do anything but promise you I won't let anything happen to you, ever, and that I won't let anyone take me away from you."
His passionate pledge sent more tears careening down her cheeks, but he gently leaned over and kissed the tracks left on her face. She wasn't crying aloud anymore, but her body continued to jerk unsteadily as the sobs hitched in her throat, causing her to hiccup and gasp every few minutes. He watched in relief as her eyes finally fluttered closed, but didn't allow himself the same luxury. He promised not to let anything happen to her, so he was going to stick to that covenant and keep vigil to protect her from unseen enemies.
After nearly an hour of just lying on the couch watching her sleep, Vaughn finally summoned the courage and motivation to gently extract himself from his position behind her in hopes of throwing together a meagre dinner for when she awoke. Knowing Sydney, she would be too upset to eat, but Vaughn didn't plan on giving her that option. As soon as he moved, however, she bolted upright, immediately sensing his absence. She clutched onto his hand and pulled him back to her. "Where are you going?" she asked fearfully.
"Nowhere, Syd," he answered reassuringly. "I thought you were asleep. I was just going to go find something for us to eat."
"Vaughn, I don't think--"
"I know you don't feel like eating, Sydney," he cut her off, "and to be honest, I don't either. But you know you have to take care of yourself and the baby. I'll just find something light and then we can go back to bed or talk or whatever you want," he tried to reason.
At the mention of the baby, Sydney's eyes watered once more. Her hand flew to her stomach as she sought the reassurance of a life still beginning inside of her. For the first time in seven months, she honestly forgot all about the baby for several hours, too consumed by her grief to even consider anything beyond the pain she was currently experiencing. It felt as though the world should stop, the sun should vanish, and every living being besides her and Vaughn should just grow still and quiet and leave them to their mourning. In the midst of her suffering, she forgot that life around her and within her carried on. This thought wounded her almost as much as the initial shock of learning that her best friend had been murdered just like her fiancée years before. "Oh God, Vaughn," she whispered solemnly.
"What is it?" he frowned in concern. "Are you okay?"
The answer to that question was obvious, but Sydney knew what he meant. "Yeah," she answered, smiling ever so slightly to ease his fear. "I just…the baby…we were going to ask Will and Francie to be the godparents. Remember? We decided it should be them. And now Will won't even meet this baby. He'll never know if it's a boy or a girl or what we name it and he won't be there…" She couldn't continue any longer without falling apart, so she stopped, raising her hand to her mouth to stifle the screams threatening to rip from her throat.
"Oh Syd," Vaughn breathed, running back to her side.
The concern in his voice broke her, and she full-heartedly threw herself into his embrace, desperate for absolutely anything he could give her. She didn't remember feeling this way with Danny, or even with her mother. When Danny died, all she could think about was revenge, about bringing justice to a man whose only sin was loving a dangerous woman. When her mother died, she wasn't given the option of mourning. Her father was gone, just as though he'd gone over the bridge with his wife, and there were no arms to hold her when she needed to cry. She raised herself, and crying wouldn't do any good.
But now she couldn't even seek revenge, no matter how badly she wanted to. She learned the hard way that vengeance never offered the relief she sought, but at least the pursuit took her mind elsewhere, beyond the guilt and grief ravaging her emotions. This horrible new development didn't change the fact that she was restricted to desk duty, and that she owed it to her child to keep herself out of harm's way as much as possible in the life of a spy. This new experience – actually feeling something so powerful as loss – nearly sent her to her knees.
"I wanted him to be there, Vaughn," she sobbed, digging her fingernails into his skin. She wanted to crawl inside of him, burrow beneath the warmth she knew existed there, and hide forever from the cruelty of the world.
"I know you did, Sydney," he tried to soothe. "I wanted him there, too. I didn't know him like you did, but I cared about him, Syd. I really did. He and Francie would have been wonderful godparents."
"This isn't fair, Vaughn. He was so excited about this. Why can't he be here?"
"I don't know, Honey," he uttered helplessly. What could he possibly say to make any of this better? "It's not fair, and it hurts, and I'm so, so sorry," he whispered.
"I talked to him last night," she said, following his lead and keeping her voice as soft as possible. "He was telling me about something funny that happened at the restaurant, and I told him about Weiss running into the goal the other night when you guys were playing hockey." This earned the briefest flicker of a smile from Vaughn, and for just a moment, Sydney allowed herself to remember the laughter in their conversation. "It was just normal stuff, Vaughn. Nothing important. I thought we would have time for that later. I should have known better. It's always a matter of life or death with me."
"Sydney," he scolded softly. "You have to stop this. You can't analyse every little thing that you've done searching for something that could have been done differently. You were talking to your best friend, just like you always do. No one knew something like this would happen, including you."
"But I should have taken the time, Vaughn," she cried. "I could have just told him that I loved him. God, the last thing I said to him was some stupid joke about what he should wear to dinner."
"Then remember that, Sydney," he offered. "You know, the last time I saw my dad, it was just a normal day. He was going to work and I was getting ready for school. He said something about playing hockey when he got back from his trip, and then he told me to stop leaving my backpack in the hall where people were trying to walk. And then he left, and he never came back," he said, barely holding it together himself as he remembered those last few minutes with his father.
Sydney nodded in understanding. "My mom and dad were going out to eat. I was upset that I couldn't go with them…Dad had been gone on a trip and I wanted to go with them. I was being a brat and I wouldn't say goodbye, so my mom came into my room and kissed me. She told me she loved me and that we would go have lunch together, just the two of us, the next day. I was mad at her for so long for not being there to take me to lunch."
Vaughn squeezed her hand and kissed the top of her head. Neither cared that her memory was false, that her mother probably knew she couldn't make a promise like that. It didn't matter that her mother was still alive, because at age six, Sydney lost Laura Bristow forever. "But when you think about that now, Sydney," he prodded gently, "aren't you kind of glad your last few minutes with your mom were so normal? I loved my dad the most when he was just being my dad. Little moments like that are the things you cherish about a person when they're with you and when they're gone. He was just Will last night, Sydney. You'll be able to remember that he was your friend, a guy that could make you laugh, instead of dwelling on a goodbye," he said, trying to alleviate just a little of the guilt she was currently ravaging herself with.
Sydney nodded, knowing that he was right, but still so sorry she hadn't even taken a few seconds to add an "I love you" to the end of their conversation. Will probably knew, just as she knew he loved her, but it didn't excuse her from saying the words. She was always so careful with Vaughn, so afraid that anything she didn't say would somehow come back to haunt her, and he understood better than anyone. Not every goodbye was a heartfelt declaration of all their feelings, but they always made sure to part on good terms and with a sweet kiss. Why did she believe Vaughn was the only one Sloane could take away from her?
Vaughn held her for several more minutes, just keeping her as close as possible without suffocating her. She gladly accepted his comfort, taking everything she could from him without regret or hesitation. Maybe the Sydney of the past would be stronger, would try to deal with this without crumbling or revealing weakness, but she'd lost too many people now to maintain that ridiculously self-reliant ideal. The strength she used to claim began to dissipate when Danny died, and it seemed that every day took a little more out of her. Now that she knew how it felt to truly share her burdens with another human being, she knew she could never go back even if she wanted to.
"You think you can eat just a little something?" he asked softly when she seemed adequately calmed.
"I guess," she answered weakly. "I can try."
"That's all I'm asking," he said simply. He rose and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "Come sit with me in the kitchen," he requested softly.
Sydney nodded and obeyed, blindly following his lead without question. He guided her to a stool at the counter and helped her sit, lingering for a moment to kiss her hair and squeeze her hand in reassurance. She watched numbly as he scoured the cabinets and began throwing together a haphazard meal. When Danny died, she really didn't eat anything for days. The lack of appetite was a normal part of the grieving process, so she didn't think anything of it. The thought of food now was no more appealing than it had been then, but the tiny kicks against her hand bolstered her resolve just a little, reminding her that there were still so many reasons to keep functioning to the best of her ability.
Several minutes later, Vaughn passed her a plate of plain pasta, preparing one for himself as well. He was considerate of her fragile state and didn't give her too much, and for that, Sydney was grateful. She would do whatever he asked of her right now; she didn't trust herself to do what was necessary to keep herself and the baby healthy. But nevertheless, she was glad he didn't request more than she could give. There was nothing to say now, so they ate their makeshift dinner in complete silence, both lost deep within their own dark thoughts and fears. When they finished, Vaughn wordlessly gathered the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Sydney made eye contact for just a moment, and he tipped his head in the direction of the bedroom. Not needing any further explanation, she nodded and walked quietly down the hall to their darkened bedroom.
Without bothering to turn on the light, Sydney rummaged through the drawers for suitable pyjamas. Not satisfied with any of her own wardrobe, she switched over to Vaughn's and found one of his large t-shirts. The smell of him comforted her, and the worn cotton felt soft against her skin. She located her own pair of sweatpants and quickly slid them on, and then allowed herself to close her eyes for just a few fleeting seconds. The wave of nausea hit immediately as the images began to play across her closed eyelids, tormenting her with the memories of finding Danny and transposing Will's face onto the body. She gasped and bolted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut just before falling to her knees in front of the toilet.
Vaughn's frantic footsteps behind her did nothing to still her body, and in fact, she seemed not to notice his presence at all. She quivered as the waves washed over her again and again, nearly crying from the violence of her heaving. Her eyes scorched and stung with indescribable pain, and she focused solely on trying to control her stomach, oblivious to the hand raking back her hair and massaging her tightly knotted muscles. Just as her brain grew fuzzy and her vision blurred from lack of oxygen, her vomiting screeched to a halt. Too exhausted to move, she collapsed, allowing her head to fall listlessly against the toilet bowl. A pitiful moan escaped her raw throat, and she instantly regretted making a sound.
Slowly, her body began to right itself, and she shivered from the sudden chill of her skin. Vaughn's hands infused heat back into her blood as he intuitively rubbed her aching neck. She nearly cried when he broke contact, but seconds later, a cool cloth dripping with merciful water eased the loss. She lifted her head from the porcelain and turned to face him with teary eyes. To her surprise, his green eyes were rimmed with red, and a few moist spots on his cheeks revealed that he had been crying as well. His voice wavered when he finally broke the silence. "Oh Syd," he cracked.
She sobbed his name and crawled into his embrace, allowing herself to be held and rocked right there on the cold white tiles of the bathroom floor. "I saw his face," she cried. "I closed my eyes and I pictured Danny, but it was Will's face."
"Shh," he tried to soothe. "Shh, Sydney. You're alright. You're going to be okay. We're going to get through this."
"I don't want to close my eyes again, Vaughn. I don't want to see him…"
"You don't have to," he assured her. "You don't have to close your eyes or do anything you can't do right now, Sydney. Just let me handle it, okay? I know you like to do everything yourself, but please, just trust me and we'll get you through it."
She nodded helplessly, not knowing what else could be said or done. "Okay," she agreed weakly.
"I hate that you're so miserable," he confessed sadly. "What can I do? Tell me what I can do for you."
"Just hold me," she begged. "Don't move. I just want to stay right here."
"Okay. I can do that. We can stay here as long as you want," he promised.
Calmed slightly by his gentle tones, she took a chance and allowed her eyes to close once more, trusting that he would protect her from whatever she saw in the blackness. She focused on the arms around her and slowly began to go limp, too tired to fight the beckoning sleep and welcoming oblivion. She was only vaguely aware of being lifted, and she didn't even try to protest as he carried her back to the bedroom and deposited her carefully into the bed. He covered her with the blanket, making sure she was warm, and then crawled in behind her without even bothering to change out of the clothes he'd worn to work. Finally confident that her slumber would be dreamless, Sydney drifted off to sleep, praying to God that she would wake up and discover that all of this was nothing more than a horrible nightmare.