Epilogue: Part 1

Four weeks later

"If you get up with me every time, you'll be just as tired during the day. I'm fine, just...stay in bed. One of us should get some sleep," she grumbled into the bowl as Michael knelt behind her with his knees on either side of her slumped body.

"But then I'd miss all the fun," he chuckled and held back her hair, Sydney groaning as she retched again, the scant amount of water she'd been trying to keep down ending up coming right back out.

Settling back, they took up their nightly spot against the wall in the shining new bathroom, the large windows facing west as the moon and stars reflected in the waves washing back and forth.

"I really love this view," she whispered, his hands settling in his usual spot over her still-flat stomach, hers dropping against his forearms as they reclined together.

Michael had moved in a pillow to rest opposite of the toilet after her first few nights of morning sickness, the two of them learning that morning was a relative term. Between ten at night and two in the morning, Sydney usually had one or two bouts that left her running to the bathroom. Fortunately, every west-facing wall in the beach home was almost entirely made of glass, and the view of the Pacific was spectacular.

"Your stomach seems settled, let's go have some tea," he suggested quietly after a bit and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Weaving around unpacked boxes in the living room, both taking a moment to appreciate the view after spending months in a basement, she sat at the table as he flipped on the electric kettle and readied the peppermint tea.

"Hey, thanks for letting me help with the analysis you're working on. I'm...kind of losing my mind to boredom."

"I can ask your dad to send some extra work over, he won't mind." Dropping the tea bag into the empty mug he leaned against the dark marble countertop and crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

Sydney sighed and shook her head before propping it up on her palm and leaning heavily over the hardwood table. Her other hand rubbed the sore muscles of her stomach as it grumbled with another bout of queasiness.

"No."

Michael laughed. "Sweetie, just ask."

"I said I didn't need the job."

"You don't need the job but you want the work. Don't get me wrong, my analysis is getting done so fast they think I'm a god. Kendall actually asked why he had me field-rated in the first place."

That made her laugh, though she regretted it as it made her stomach flip. The kettle boiled and clicked to turn off. Hints of peppermint filled the air as Vaughn poured water over the bag and stirred it around. Bringing the cup to the table he pressed a kiss to her clammy forehead and slid another chair closer before flopping down.

"No one would blame you for feeling a bit bored, but it's only been a week since we moved in. If you're going crazy already…" he left it off and mirrored her by propping his head up in the same fashion.

Another sigh. "I just...if I can't live without that job, what's the point of getting out?"

"Sydney, it's all your choice. You can literally do whatever you want to do, you're not trapped here. What do you want to do? I'll make it happen."

She smiled sweetly at his frustration, knowing that it was stemming from the many conversations they'd been having about the future in the last few days. "I know you would, it's just...not that easy."

"The last two classes you need for your degree are self-paced and start in two weeks, and that's really going to help. After that? Boom. Professor Vaughn," he grinned and spread his hands wide as if he was envisioning her name in lights. "You'll be ruling the classroom before you know it."

Sydney shrugged. "I don't know if I want to start teaching just to take time off after the baby. Maybe...maybe I wait a year," she paused, "or two."

Vaughn frowned. "Why put it off? It's not like teachers don't have babies, I'm sure they'll be fine with it."

Breaking eye contact, she looked down as her fingers played with the square of paper attached to the string of the teabag. Another shrug. "It's our first kid and I don't have a clue what to do. I don't want to add a job I also don't know how to do on top of all that."

Vaughn reached out his free hand and set it to her lower arm. "Syd, you're at the point in your life that if you don't want to do something, you don't have to. Are you getting cold feet about teaching? Or," his heart caught in his throat, but he had to ask, "or the baby?"

Turbulent brown eyes flashed up to his suddenly worried face, "god, no. No, no, no, no. I...I'm so excited about this kid, I promise. It's just," she paused and looked away again, her eyes drifting to the waves outside thankful for the millionth time that week that almost every room in the place faced west. Why own a beach house to look inland?

It all seemed simpler outside. Waves washed up over the sand, the grains tumbling back and forth to cover and uncover shells and other treasures. Stars and moons and planets twinkled overhead as the vast expanse of water stretched outward and the horizon sank into black oblivion.

"It's just…" he prodded and pulled her back from her drifting thoughts.

"What if the only thing I was good at was being a spy?" Finally saying out loud what had been eating at her the most made her feel both better and worse.

Vaughn rejected her worry outright. "No way. You're gonna be a great teacher." As she brought her timid gaze back up, he realized it wasn't the teaching part that was giving her grief.

"I...never had a real mother, at least not one I can remember. I don't know the first thing about kids other than how not to raise them, and honestly...that doesn't seem good enough. I also...don't know how to teach," she gave an airy, disappointed chuckle and refocused on the teabag string.

"Me either. I never even babysat and...kids have always terrified me. Despite it all, I think we turned out okay."

She grinned, "If okay means that when things get tough I know I can drive my car into a river and fake my death. Come on," she shook her head looking back outside.

"That's dark, sweetie," Michael said, pulling a chuckle from her chest. "Hey," he started, squeezing her wrist and getting her attention, "we have another eight months to figure it out. That's way more time than either of us need. And you don't have to teach until you're ready. If you want to wait until the kid is thirty, I don't care. I just want you to be happy, Sydney."

"What about you? If I decide to teach now or after they're born, what will you do? You shouldn't be stuck not doing what you want, Michael. Would being a stay at home dad even make you happy?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, smiling at the surprise on her face. "Absolutely."

"But...you just said you don't know the first thing about kids."

"I don't," he sat up and leaned back against the chair and shrugged his shoulders with an exaggerated extra flail of his arms before propping them on the table.

"Then how do you know you're gonna be okay with it? What if you hate it?"

"Sydney, I'm not going to hate my kid."

"Not that," she corrected, "what if you hate not working like you used to?"

Vaughn thought for a second, darting his eyes around the open living room, everything still so shiny and not yet broken in by the new residents. "I can tell you what I won't miss," he started. "I won't miss the worry, the panic, the...long hours of crunching data, or the training seminars. I'm not going to miss the jet lag or flying halfway across the planet to meet with a shady guy to get information, and I'm not going to miss watching those shady guys hit on you as you milk them for all the intelligence they're dumb enough to give. Being a stay at home dad sounds perfect, Syd."

His admission surprised her and the few moments of quiet as they both got lost in thought was timed by the metronome of the ticking clock hanging on the wall of the kitchen.

"You've always been more than a spy, Sydney. You were damn near the best editor the Tribune ever had because we both know that you edited Will's articles for years," he studied the side of her face as she'd gone back to watching the waves outside, though a grin pulled at her lips. "You got the best tips as a bartender at Francie's restaurant, of that I'm sure, and," he stopped, tapping the table and pulling her eyes back to his, "you're Sydney Bristow. I mean...you can do anything. I've seen you literally do everything, and you always make it look easy."

That made her laugh and shake her head. "Sydney Vaughn," she reminded and took a deep breath.

"You want to know what I do know for sure?" His question made her nod, her watery eyes coming back to his steady stare. "We're gonna call my mom every...single...day."

Sharing a laugh she realized he was completely right. Her parents might not be the best to address their concerns, and one of them was inaccessible at the moment, but Deloreme Vaughn had been an angel in the two weeks she'd known the woman. At his honest statement, she relaxed.

"You're just as scared as I am, aren't you?"

"Absolutely. Maybe even a little more than you."

"You hide it well," she smirked.

"Thank you. I was also a spy," he joked. "Drink your tea."

Their conversation had allowed it to cool, and it coursed down her throat into her stomach almost immediately settling the turbulence. She closed her eyes and let out a relieved, slow breath.

"I'm sorry that I'm unbearable."

"Ppft," he buzzed his lips. "Even if you were unbearable, I'd still be sitting right here at," he paused and looked over at the stove, "one twelve in the morning."

She balked nearly spitting out the mouthful of soothing tea. "You should get some sleep. Don't you have a phone conference with Kendall at seven?"

He nodded but didn't move. Instead, he slid down in the chair and folded his hands over his stomach as he took in her rumpled appearance with soft green eyes. Her camisole was twisted slightly around her stomach and her long brown hair was swept to one side, her fingers dragging through it two or three times while they were talking. Hints of circles under her eyes belied her assurance that she wasn't missing out on too much sleep, and the complete lack of makeup made the tone of her skin pale in the low light coming from the moon outside and the dimmed lights of the kitchen.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, not hiding the adoration on his face.

Sydney rolled her eyes with a scoff. "I'm sure," she said sarcastically, bringing the mug back to her lips and finishing off the tea. "I imagine the slightly green color of my skin makes me super hot."

Michael's smile widened. "I love when you're green."

"You're the worst," she lied.

The months in the bunker hadn't let her realize how wonderful he was as a husband, but every day here he proved it bit by bit. Flowers, back rubs, letting her sleep until noon to then bring her breakfast in bed, cooking whatever she wanted when food made her queasy. He'd been at her beck and call for almost a week and after all that, here she was complaining that she was going stir crazy.

"I don't really deserve you," she said quietly. "You've been doing everything; unpacking the boxes, cooking, taking care of me and everything else, and I sleep all day and then complain that I'm bored after keeping you up at night."

Vaughn laughed with a sharp exhale through his nose and stood to take her cup to rinse in the sink before refilling the kettle in the case they would need it again. Coming back to her side he pulled her up slowly and folded her into his arms. With the side of his finger, he tilted her chin up and leaned in to catch her lips, his other hand massaging at the small of her back.

"Be nicer to my wife, she's growing a whole person and the only way I can help is by brewing tea and holding her hair back when she pukes."

Tears formed a sheen across her eyes as she brought her mouth back to his, his kisses gentle and reassuring. Parting, they rested their foreheads together with him leaning down and her tilting slightly up sharing a sigh.

"Let's get some sleep," he whispered but didn't move as his hand still kneaded at the tense muscles of her lower back.

"We could just...sleep like this, right?" He could tell from her voice that she was slipping away, so he pulled back just far enough to carefully lean down and lift at the back of her legs, slowly sweeping her into his arms.

During the last week or so, any swinging or rocking motion made her dizzy and nauseous, so he tried to make his move as smooth as possible. She didn't pale or complain, and instead flashed a dimpled smile with her eyes still closed before resting her head on his shoulder.

Tucking her in, he found that she was asleep the moment she hit the pillow while he was left wide awake. It had been like that for the last few nights, unfortunately, Michael getting her back to bed before moving out to the living room to work on unpacking or watch some television until his eyes began to droop. That hadn't been any less than an hour later, two the last two nights, this shaping up to be the same.

Kissing her temple and tugging the blankets up over her shoulder, he left and ended up in the hallway. Shoving his hands into the pockets of the plaid pajama pants, he looked back and forth before deciding to move to the room next door. It was currently empty, which was strange. Every other room had at least three or four boxes looming inside as they'd finally spread things out to make unpacking a little less overwhelming, but this room didn't have anything to unpack. This presently empty room was to be the nursery.

The soft thickly-padded carpet felt good beneath his feet, a big contrast to the hard cherrywood flooring in the hallway. At first, he thought the sprawling ranch-style home was far too big; stretching nearly 4,000 square feet, it was the largest home he'd ever been in, let alone owned. The room, like all facing west, had an amazing view of the ocean, and as he looked around, he got an idea.

Turning his back on the window, at least twenty feet of bare wall stretched from the doorway down to where the far wall started, the home office on the other side. It would make a perfect canvas for a mural. He'd seen her notebooks from meetings and knew that her doodles looked far better than his crooked stick figures. Tomorrow he could go into town and buy what she would need to start the design for the nursery. The appointment next week would tell them the gender as well as other details as she would be ten weeks along, and designing the nursery could be just the thing to get them both out of their funk.

It would sure as hell be more exciting than unpacking endless boxes from both his and her storage units, a majority of her things quickly packed by a CIA team and not organized in any way, shape, or form. Stepping back to the doorway he looked from right to left and envisioned a crib, rocking chair, toys...a nervous energy building back up under his heart. He had no idea what else a baby needed.

'Probably a lot more than that,' his brain figured.

It dawned on him that something he'd ordered had come in, and he'd all but rushed into town to get the mail before becoming distracted leaving said item still sitting unopened on the counter. Leaving the room with a grin, he grabbed it and moved to the living room to flop onto the couch and haul the blanket at the end over his lap and legs after propping his feet on the coffee table.

Tearing the package open he tossed the wrapping to the left and looked at the yellow and black book cover. Being a Great Dad For Dummies made him grin, and he opened the first page to start reading.

The smell of freshly-brewed coffee and a gentle hand against his cheek pulled him from slumber, and he spotted an orange glow to the suddenly bright room. He'd made it around a dozen pages before crashing, according to where his thumb was still wedged in the book as the whole thing lay flopped over his chest.

'Shit. The meeting.'

"Guh," he groaned, his neck stiff as he sat up, "what time is it?" He looked around for a clue, his eyes feeling a bit like sandpaper.

"It's six. I woke you early so you had time before the meeting," she said quietly, grabbing the reading material before it landed on the floor and trading it for the steaming cup of coffee.

Gesturing with the book, "this is adorable, by the way," she giggled and set it gingerly on the table.

Michael blushed and accepted the life-giving liquid. "Don't tell Weiss."

"I text a picture to your mom," she admitted, moving back into the kitchen and breaking the eggs into the pan as they sizzled in the butter.

"She's gonna tell Weiss," he grumbled and tossed the blanket back to the end of the couch, rising and heading toward the kitchen. Sitting at the raised bar-style counter, the padded stool bouncy and not broken in, he heaved a sigh and took another sip of the scalding beverage.

"Thanks for the coffee. Your stomach okay?"

She wobbled her head back and forth sprinkling some cheese, salt, and pepper over the eggs before stirring it all in, "eh."

The toast popped up and she grabbed it, sliding the two slices toward him on a plate with a knife, the butter, and a jar of grape jelly, and he raised his eyebrows. "Nothing for you?"

"Oh no," she said quickly, pulling the eggs off the burner to slide them to his plate. Even behind the light makeup she'd put on he could see the paleness in her cheeks.

"Well, thank you for breakfast even though it made you queasy," he said, Sydney sipping at another cup of peppermint tea and leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen, away from the food that was setting her stomach on edge.

"Thank you for sitting up with me last night and not getting enough sleep," she smiled.

Behind the crunch of the toast, "I got an idea last night during my bout of insomnia."

Over the rim of her mug, her eyebrows lifted.

"We're gonna plan the nursery."

The bubbles popped around her as she settled into the hot water of the bath. After a week of planning and making sketches, she finally pried open the first can of paint. She and Vaughn had decided on an enchanted forest theme with woodland animals, and she'd spent almost a full day merely sketching a concept for a hollowed-out tree library for the corner along with the other subjects and she was excited to get started. It would be just the thing she anticipated needing during breaks from her classes that started next week.

Laying out the base browns and greens, she'd spent hours in the room with the windows tossed open and the cool ocean breeze ruffling the plastic laid out and taped down over the carpet, but her back finally let her know how upset it was with a deep ache. Hence the steaming bubble bath. The lights were off and she'd lit a myriad of candles around the room before wrapping her hair into a bun at the top of her head, securing the mess with a clip, and slipped into the soothing water and suds. Tendrils slipped out ending up wet around her shoulders, but she sighed and sank into the warmth closing her eyes, a soft smile playing at her lips.

Light tapping on the door a while later cracked her eyes to see her husband standing at the entrance carrying something in each hand.

"Mind if I join you?"

She gave a lazy nod and a soft smile as he pulled the stool over and parked next to the edge of the tub above her looking down. Setting a fresh cup of peppermint tea on the small stand to his left, mindful of the burning candle, he fisted a glass of brandy in the other and took a sip as the floral lavender and vanilla scents wafted around the bathroom.

They shared a few minutes of quiet, the popping of the bubbles a kind of white noise that made everything more relaxing.

"I miss you," she whispered.

He grinned with a frown, "we've spent every day for the past two weeks together. Are you sure you don't mean you're sick of me?"

Rolling her eyes, the dimple poking out on her cheek, "no. I miss you."

Realization dawned and he nodded with a wincing grin. Extreme motion sickness meant that even standing up too quickly would put her out of commission and, if bad enough, left her leaning over the closest toilet, sink, or trash can. Such motion included driving, the front porch swing, and most unfortunately, sex. No matter how slow they'd tried, the rocking motion sent her stomach into knots.

"We've found ways around it."

"It's just...not enough sometimes," she admitted with a wanting sigh.

Surprise flashed in his darkening green eyes, "are you saying I'm only good at the one thing?"

"Trust that that's never something I'll ever say," she assuaged with a chuckle as the water bounced in time with her laugh making the bubbles around her crackle and move, exposing her shoulder. His eyes were immediately drawn to the skin as it caught the flickering candlelight, a few errant drops leaving trails that he suddenly, and more than anything, wanted to trace with either his fingers or his tongue.

Planting his feet, he pulled the stool as close to the side of the tub as he could. Taking another mouthful of the brandy before setting the glass aside, he reached out to scoop up some bubbles and blow them into the air, both pairs of eyes following as they landed where the rest of her body was hidden beneath the lavender-scented foam.

Too tempting to leave untouched, he leaned down to kiss the top of the exposed shoulder. Past the noise of the bubbles now so close to his ear he could hear the sudden intake of her breath, his eyes flicking up to see that hers had closed and her lips were now parted. She was right that everything but sex was still good, but the lack of more had been wearing them both down.

Truth be told, he missed being inside her. Flames of desire flared at the thought and his body responded to the unfortunately impossible possibility.

Skimming his now moist lips along her shoulder to her neck, he felt her imperceptibly tilt her head away from him to allow for easier access, a grin tilting the right side of his mouth. Gently suctioning a kiss to the thumping pulse point he stroked her skin with the flat of his tongue before pulling back. One of the loose strands of her hair that had escaped the bun caught his attention, wet and sticking where shoulder met neck, and his hand moved on its own to delicately trace along its meandering path over her collarbone until it stopped just above the floating raft of bubbles.

Underneath the popping barrier were her breasts which, even at just ten weeks, were slightly larger and much more sensitive. Moving through the suds his fingers traced her skin down to the barrier of the hot water. Breaking through, a soft moan left her throat as the pads of his fingers skimmed over the pebbled nipple, the mere hint of his touch stiffening her shoulders and back and curling her toes against the porcelain at the other end of the basin.

Nips and licks strewn from her shoulder to below her ear kept her in a dizzying state of passion as his hand slid further under to cup the soft flesh, the water was doing most of the lifting. He slowly brushed his thumb across her nipple lightly once, firmer twice, and light again for a third pass. He felt the water begin to seep higher into the sleeve of his button-up, though he didn't have much time to regret not rolling them up as she turned her head and lifted her shoulder, her temple pressing against his as his tongue laved the sucking nibble he'd planted just below her ear.

Following the line of her jaw, her eager lips met his and their tongues melded in the middle as he sought to rememorize the taste of her, Sydney picking up hints of the brandy he'd been sipping. The pressure was light and his kisses slow and sensual until they broke for air, and he moved his hand to the other side to shower the neglected peak with the same gentle consideration.

Her voice was a low, wanton whisper, loud only because of his proximity, and her lips brushed his as he drank her words, "do you want me to-" a whimper cutting her off as he lightly pinched the bud between his fingers.

"Nope." Catching her mouth again his lips dazzled her with distraction as his hand left her breasts and skimmed toward her belly button, the other pushing the suds away and slipping into the water behind her shoulders to keep her from sliding suddenly and sending her stomach into a roil. This pulled her closer to the surface, her taut nipple breaking the surface to let it taste the cool air of the surface.

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to lean forward far enough else he would have pulled it between his lips. Spreading his fingers and sliding them downward, he heard her hold her breath as she excitedly waited for his touch where she wanted it most. Watching with hooded green eyes as emotion changed like the seasons across her face, he felt the arm he was leaning over rise and clutch his forearm. Her brow would fold, eyebrows puckering together as they rose, her mouth and chin going in the opposite direction as her pouted lips formed an O, all before relaxing as she bit at the bottom left side of her lower lip.

Prolonging her excitement, he brushed the fuzz at the top of her mound before skipped over her center to the right to glide his hand as far as he could reach down her inner thigh. Pulling back and hooking his fingers against her skin, the water afforded little friction as he dragged his nails back up to her hip. An annoyed exhale left her lips and put a smile on his lips, a chuckle rising from his chest.

Cracking open her eyes she glared as he hovered above her with a cocky smarm written on his face. "You're the worst," she lied.

"You like it," he countered and pecked a kiss to her lower lip, the stubble of his five o'clock shadow rubbing from his chin against hers.

She started to grumble his name, the noun tuning up midway to end in a mewl when the pad of his finger skimmed over her warmth with light pressure from top to bottom. He dipped his head down as she tilted hers back against the bath pillow, his lips sucking at her throat as his fingers spread her nether lips and traced back up from the bottom to graze her sensitive button.

The hand against his forearm tightened and he felt the bite of her fingernails through the wet cotton of his shirt, the water slowly seeping nearly to the crook of his elbow. Pulling his head back from the string of pink marks he'd left against her collarbone, he went back to studying the passion on her face. More hair had slipped from the clip and the tendrils falling around her shoulders before getting stuck and soaking up the drops of water. With her eyes closed, her head tossed back, and the nearest candle flicking a pale glow against the side of her face, she looked like a naughty angel.

Licks of electricity flared from her core to every nerve ending as he gently swept his fingers over the nubbin. She could feel his gaze as his breath fanned her throat, cool puffs against her overheated, moist skin that were refreshing compared to the heat of the water and of his touch.

Distantly he heard his cell phone ring as it dawned on him that he was waiting for Kendall's follow-up on a project he'd started earlier that afternoon. His mind debated his hands for a fraction of a second until his fingers dipped again into her center feeling the wetness despite the water, the sweet moan leaving her lips to effectively block the shrill sound from the other room for a moment. Kendall would have to wait.

While he was more accustomed to exploring her folds from between her legs, he had unfettered access to her button with his middle and ring finger from this angle and proceeded to swirl it with soft circles. Her back arched pushing her backside into the bottom of the tub and her head into the padded pillow, and he spread his fingers against her upper back to keep her from going anywhere. The new twist of her body brought her chest high enough to once again break the surface and, more importantly, within reach of his waiting mouth. Another mewl left her lips as his tongue brushed across the sensitive perky nipple.

She expected the need to tell him to be gentle as her breasts, especially the nipples, had been sore, but per usual, he was being gentle. She never really had to ask him to put her first, it was just where she existed with him. More lightning shot from where his tongue flicked the bud to travel through her stomach and crash into the flames licking up from his hand at her center.

Keeping up slow circles against the bundle of nerves while incrementally increasing the pressure, he sucked an open-mouthed kiss gently against her breast as the flat of his tongue massaged the bud. He was keeping in mind the soreness, but nothing he was doing seemed to bother her at the moment; all feedback was positive.

He knew she was getting close, his hand slipping away from her button to tease her folds and dip into the wetness, and her disappointed groan pulled another laugh from his chest as she lifted her head with a renewed glare.

"I was almost there," she mumbled.

He nodded with another brash smirk, "I know."

Grumbling, she leaned forward and snagged his lips, her tongue darting forward against his, and it was his turn to groan. Returning to the pearl at the top of her center, his fingers picked up the pace as he held her close, her other arm leaving the warm water to cup the side of his jaw, fingers delving into his hair as her whole body tensed.

He swallowed her cry as she came against his hand, the swirling continuing as he wound her down with the receding tremors of her orgasm. With a gasping smack their mouths parted, her head falling back against the pillow as she panted, bliss written across every inch of her face.

Michael released her slowly making sure that she wasn't going to slip under, pulling his arms out of the soapy water. Leaning in to press a kiss against her shoulder before standing, he undid the buttons of the now-sopping shirt and pulled it down from where it was plastered against his skin. He caught her half-lidded eyes as they watched him undress, the shrill ringing of his cell phone in the other room breaking the lull as she picked up on the noise.

She frowned and he nodded, "yeah, I had a call that I'm currently late for."

Leaning over and resting his hands on the edge of the tub he caught her lips in another kiss, her hands skimming wet lines over his chest and down his stomach, and he broke away with a hiss before she could reach the straining manhood pinned behind his jeans.

"I'll make it up to you later," she promised in a sultry tone.

"Don't fall asleep in the tub," he ordered and grabbed the glass of brandy, downing the remainder as he stiffly walked from the room, Sydney laughing as she settled back into the bubbles with a contented sigh.

A/N: I'm not sure how many epilogue chapters it's going to be - probably quite a few as I have a bit planned! We had a lot of fun getting them to this point - so I'm looking forward to the fluffy stuff of them being settled.