Epilogue Part 4: Domestication
Sydney sighed contentedly as she pushed the button to close the heavy gate behind her, watching it secure completely before driving the quarter-mile up the sand-packed driveway to the beach home. The sun was setting to her left and she rolled the windows of the sedan down to let the salty cool air of the evening blow through her hair.
The lights were on in the living room, the interior visible through the clear large windows at the front of the home, though she knew due to the time displayed on the dash that Vaughn would have just finished feeding their daughter and was likely into the process of starting or finishing bathtime.
The light was welcoming in the otherwise dark garage as she pulled in the car and watched from the mirror as the door closed behind her. Stepping out, her flats slapping against the concrete floor, she walked around the garage and in between her car and the SUV parked in the second spot before determining that everything was clear. Opening the passenger door she lifted her purse and a large tote bag, folders and binders stacked to the brim in the canvas between the cloth handles.
Slinging it over her shoulder she closed and locked the car before moving to the interior door. The keypad beeped as she punched in the code, the mechanism unlocking the door. Pushing the handle down with her elbow the welcoming cool air of the home hit her face carrying with it the savory scent of rosemary and other herbs wafting from the kitchen down the hall toward the garage. She keyed in the code on the panel, the lock re-engaging and sealing off the exit.
Walking the wooden floors she stepped into the kitchen finding it empty. The highchair was next to the table on the plastic mat, the tray covered in splats of something the baby had been eating not too long ago. The deep black stone countertops reflected the hanging overhead lights, and she spotted chicken cooked to herby perfection carved in a dish on the stovetop surrounded by roasted potatoes and asparagus.
"God I love when he cooks," she said quietly and set her bags on the counter before sneaking a piece of the juicy and delicate meat.
Groaning in delight at the taste, she left the kitchen and entered the living room. A bright yellow sticky note caught her attention on the long table behind the couch, and she grinned at his scrawled message.
'New record: 6'. Beneath the note were six small scraps of paper with various phone numbers, names, and Xs and Os. She laughed remembering that he'd taken Isabelle to a library class earlier, as she had done the week before. Despite the wedding ring, a potentially single dad at these classes was like a unicorn, and he always came back with some desperate housewife, nanny, or even grandmother's information slyly slipped into the diaper bag or handed to him directly.
The ceiling of the large living area arched upward and massive picture windows splashed the orange hue of sunset on the walls. Sydney took a moment to watch the waves glisten with a fiery shimmer before moving through toward the bedrooms. The light shone from both the baby's room and the master farther down the hall, and she heard the sound of splashing from the small nursery bathroom.
Sneaking past, she undid buttons and tossed the shirt to the open hamper across the room, the dress pants following. She was exhausted but knew Vaughn needed a break. With the nightmarish week of Isabelle getting in molars, neither of them had gotten much sleep. Before she'd left the house for classes, their daughter had spent most of the morning crying, whining, and gnashing at wet washcloths.
The carpet was soft under her stocking feet, and down the hall she could hear high-pitched giggles accompanied by a calm deeper voice. She flopped back onto the soft bed after peeling the knee-high hose from her lower legs readying herself to get the baby to sleep to give her husband a much-needed reprieve.
Discarding both the bra and panties, she tugged soft cotton pajama pants over her hips and grabbed a camisole from the top drawer of her dresser. Heaving a sigh, she left her hair down around her shoulders but slipped a tie around her wrist knowing that the first tug on the tresses from the ten-month-old would make her pull it up and away as best as she could.
"I'm home," she called out as she stepped into the doorway of the child's bedroom, a mess of toys and books scattered across the floor. Winding a path through to the attached bathroom she looked in to see Michael seated on a stool next to the tub as their daughter stood inside the porcelain rim with her chubby little hands on the edge bouncing up and down. Brown hair that matched her mother's was stuck to the top of her head, only now getting long enough to hang down the back of her neck, and the smell of baby shampoo filled the room.
She greeted her mother with a bright dimpled smile, teeth at the top and bottom white and gleaming, and Vaughn leaned behind the baby to undo the plug and begin to drain the water. Lifting the plastic cup he rinsed her off with a splash, Sydney gathering the fluffy terry cloth towel in her arms as the little girl reached excitedly for her mother.
"How was your day?" she asked, helping her husband up from the tiny chair as he grunted, using the momentum to lean in and press a kiss to her shoulder before she bent down to wrap the squawking child and heft her out of the tub.
"You put her to bed and I'll get our dinner ready," he said, and she could hear the exasperation in his voice. Placing a kiss on his daughter's moist forehead and another against his wife's lips, he left the room heading toward the kitchen.
The quiet of the living room was a godsend, the bath the only time the baby hadn't been clingy and crying that day. Her nap had really only been tossing and turning, and for the forty minutes she'd managed to sleep he'd crashed next to her. Sydney didn't have to teach tomorrow, so he would be able to catch up on work and they could tag-team the grumpy baby.
The savory smell of the chicken reminded him of the dinner he'd prepared as Isabelle was distracted in the bouncy seat, watching with bright blue-green eyes as she chewed on the frozen rubber ring. His stomach growled loudly as he popped the cork on a bottle of wine. Creating two plates of food and setting them in the microwave to wait, he preemptively poured two glasses of wine.
It sounded like a fight. Isabelle squalled as Sydney tried everything from soothing poetry, singing a song, and finally reasoning. She even bribed her with a pony. Through it all he stayed in the kitchen knowing he'd be more of a hindrance than a help, and he heard the moment that his wife gave up and decided for a third night in a row to breastfeed their daughter to sleep. She'd been weaning her the past couple of weeks, but on trying nights gave up in order to get the little girl down. Teething was definitely giving them some trying nights.
Pouring the second glass back into the bottle with the funnel next to the sink, he grabbed and filled a cup instead with ice water.
The moment he heard her feet pad toward the kitchen he hit the button on the microwave to reheat dinner. Leaning casually against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest with a soft smile, he watched as she set the baby monitor on the island and looked over the mail he'd tossed down earlier. Going to step past and reach for the glass of water, Michael's hand intercepted her wrist and pulled her into his chest.
"Hi," he mumbled as his arms wrapped around her waist, hers clutching his shoulders before diving up into his shortened hair from the haircut he'd gotten earlier in the week.
"Hi," she answered, and their lips met softly.
His fingers slid under the hem of her camisole and tickled the soft skin of her lower back as their mouths broke apart, foreheads pressed together as they relaxed in the solace of one another.
The beeping pulled them apart, the two talking about their days over the meal. Afterward, she picked up her plate and stood, reaching for his though he waved her off.
"You cooked," she grinned, his eyebrows lifting.
"So?"
She rolled her eyes and lifted his plate anyway. "You cook, I clean."
Vaughn followed anyway, their empty glasses in his hands. "Why, Mrs. Vaughn, how domestic of you."
Sydney loved it when he called her by his last name. While she truly enjoyed being domestic with him, something so far removed from her life before, he knew it pushed her buttons when he goaded it out. Picking up the end of a leftover asparagus stalk she tossed it at him, the wet vegetable hitting his arm before plopping to the tile floor.
"And now you're gonna have to mop," he laughed, Sydney settling the mess into the sink and turning on the water.
"You really don't want to get laid tonight, do you?"
He chuckled and moved to her left, opening the dishwasher. "You'll sleep with me anyway. All I have to do is," he paused and leaned closer to her ear, "turn on the sex voice."
She felt the shiver shimmer across her skin but tried to play it off with a shove of her elbow and they fell into a routine of rinsing and loading everything into the machine. The buttons beeped as he turned it on, the water churning behind the closed metal door. Turning, he found her perched on the counter with a grin, his eyes immediately falling to the perky nipples jutting from beneath the taut fabric of the camisole, and he immediately knew she wasn't wearing anything underneath. The knowledge kinked the edge of his mouth up as he wiped his hands on his jeans and stepped into the opening of her legs.
She leaned forward slightly and he followed suit, though a cold wet dishtowel ended up over his head hanging down in front of his face. Her laugh from behind the shroud she'd hit him with forced a sigh from his lips that billowed the moist fabric outward.
One hand gripped her thigh as the other pulled the cloth from his head, and the mirth in her eyes surrounded by the encroaching purple hue made his trousers tighten and his eyes darken. His arms surrounded her as her parted lips met his for a soft kiss.
"You forgot to pick up the asparagus," she whispered after they broke apart, and he could feel her smile.
"You threw it; you pick it up."
She shook her head and he caught her mouth again, his tongue sweeping gently across hers and pulling a humming moan from her throat. Sydney's hand clutched the back of his neck holding him tighter as their lips dueled, breaking apart only to suck in a deep simultaneous breath.
"If you're going to be throwing food around, you'll have to go to time out," he said, his words brushing her lips.
"I'm not sure that's," she paused to press a kiss to his bottom lip, "that's the best punishment you could think of, is it?"
Whimpering of their little one followed by a sobbing cry broke the moment, Michael sighing and dropping his forehead to her shoulder as she chuckled and loosened her hold with both arms and legs.
"Or, I could go take care of Izzy while you finish cleaning up," she offered and he nodded, untangling and helping her off the counter.
A half-hour later, mostly successful, Sydney made her way back into the kitchen to find it clean and empty, the droning sound of television leading her into the living room. Vaughn was lying on the couch as the hockey game played in the background, another glass of wine on the end table.
"She go down?"
"Yeah, this teething thing is just…" she left off and slid in beside him as he turned to spoon around her, the pair watching the end of the game.
Sydney was dipping a toe into the land of sleep when she felt a finger brush her hair away from her neck before his lips danced soft kisses along her skin. A hum escaped her throat but she didn't move, so he continued his ministrations against the column of her throat making sure to hit the sensitive spots where it dipped into her shoulder and just below her ear tasting her perfume.
Inching her hips back she pressed her backside into his groin eliciting a grumble from his chest, and his body pushed up as she rolled back ending up mostly beneath him, their legs staggered together.
As his free hand slipped beneath the camisole she pulled his mouth down to hers as her fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt.
"We can't here," he mumbled against her lips, "gotta move," pulling back to yank the shirt from where it had been tucked in his waistband, awkward with the position he was in half above her and half tucked against the back of the couch.
"You're not exactly fighting it," she said with a hint of smarm in her voice.
"Do you want to have another baby in ten months?"
Her response was a wincing laugh. "Maybe we should start stashing condoms around the house till she's weaned and I'm cleared for birth control." Michael grinned at her suggestion and sat up before moving to stand, holding a hand out for her to join him.
Once off the couch she went straight into his arms, Vaughn catching her lips in another breathless kiss. Hefting her up, her legs locking around his waist as she clung to his shoulders, she was all airy giggles as he turned and made his way toward the bedroom, her hand grabbing the baby monitor as they passed by. Perching it on the nightstand after kicking the bedroom door mostly closed, they fell on the bed in a tangle of groping limbs and exploring mouths. It had been a little more than a week since they'd had the energy to even think about getting frisky, and while the play was enough to catch the fire of interest alight in the pair, the finish line was certainly more enticing at the moment.
He sat up and grabbed the hem of his shirt before hauling it over his head to forgo the buttons, Sydney doing the same with her top as they ended up tossed across the room, Vaughn falling back down as their lips crashed together again. Her fingernails skimmed his shoulder blades, one going up to his neck as the other went to the small of his back meeting the hem of his jeans.
"You're gonna need to take your pants off," she laughed, though it turned into a groan as his mouth redirected to her throat to suck a love bite into the juncture of her shoulder and neck.
"Nah," he ground into her ear, nipping at the lobe.
Sydney traced the edge of the fabric with her finger around to the front, but the moment it dipped behind the copper button a squalling cry came over the speaker on the nightstand. Both parents froze.
"Just...she'll go back to sleep," Michael said, though it was more of a prayer than a statement.
His prayer went unanswered, the baby letting out a loud and long plaintive wail. With a groan born this time not from pleasure, he pushed to sit back on his haunches and looked to the ceiling with tightly closed eyes.
"I got her," Sydney sat up and pulled her legs from around him, grabbing her camisole from the floor and yanking it over her head. The seams showed along her sides and the tag was sticking out from her chest indicating that it was both backward and inside-out, but she didn't seem to care. "Those pants had better be off by the time I get back," she ordered, Vaughn grinning back at her as his hands immediately moved to his waist, and the clinking sound of his loosened belt chased her into the hallway.
Shuffling off the bed he shoved the jeans and boxers from his hips in one motion, hopping on one foot for a moment as he tried to kick them off. Yanking the bedside drawer open he grabbed the square foil package and ripped the corner open with his teeth. Clambering back onto the bed he listened in the monitor as Sydney cooed at their daughter in an effort to get her back to sleep, long minutes crawling by as he heard her move quickly into the kitchen, the freezer door opening, and the chewable frozen ring extracted. Their secret weapon. She wasn't playing any games tonight, and for that he was thankful. Hard and thankful.
Eventual silence followed by Sydney's whispered, "yessss," came through the speaker, and to her quick footsteps in the hallway his hand grasped his hardness in anticipation, slipping on the condom.
"No pants, as ordered," he announced as she hit the doorway, her purple-hued eyes taking in the scene as the top came off once more. How she was able to walk out of her pajama pants he would never know, but the sight of her nude and climbing over him from the other end of the bed pooled desire low in his stomach.
Sydney's mouth descended over his once more as his hands ran from her upper back to her backside, his left lifting a bit to come down with a slap.
"That's for the asparagus," he chuckled, a second slap pulling a groan from her chest as she moved her lower half up to align the blunt tip with her moist center. Both of his hands clutched and squeezed as she pushed herself back to sheathe him inside her body quickly.
With her palms on either side of his head, she felt his groan against her skin as the rumble in his chest vibrated against her sensitive breasts. A clatter across the speaker followed by a disgruntled cry made them both pause again, and they knew she'd tossed the teething ring in a fit of grump and it had managed to slip between the rails of the crib.
"Look," Vaughn panted. "She can cry for two minutes. It won't kill her," he suggested, though he figured that the two-minute comment was generous. He felt near to bursting just being surrounded by her warmth and knew she was just as close when she nodded.
Lifting with his hands he tilted her forward, her nose burying against his throat as his thighs propped up against her straddling backside, this position giving his hips the freedom to move. His pace was hurried, the half-thrusts pounding up and slapping their lower stomachs together, and he felt her first orgasm against his member before hearing the mewl in his ear as her muscles tightened along her back and shoulders as his hands rubbed across her skin. Her hands clutched at his pillow from underneath his head and he missed feeling her fingernails skimming his scalp as she clung to him.
The crying over the monitor intensified as their daughter grew fussier each second, though hearing it past the blood roaring in their ears was becoming more and more difficult. Normally he gave her a moment to come down from the first one, but not tonight. She knew she would have finger-shaped bruises on her hips if not the next day, the day after, and his gravelly groan into her hair told her how close he was as she tiptoed at the edge of another pool of wanton electricity. His surge upward and the tightening of every muscle in his body triggered her second and they came together, the sound of their staggered breathing overtaken by the frustrated and now angry little one in the other room.
Panting against his neck for a few extra seconds, the baby's cry reached a fever pitch as she must have been wondering exactly where her normally very attentive parents were.
"Parenting is hard," she muttered sitting up, Vaughn chuckling below her.
"It'll get easier."
…
"No!" Vaughn's eyebrows shot up as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his defiant daughter, two sets of green eyes meeting in the middle to clash like fired lasers from opposite canons.
"Izzy," he warned, pointing to the mess the girl had left in the living room. "Time to clean up and have a nap."
"No! I don't nap 'cuz I'm not tired!" Punctuating her rant by rubbing the back of her hand against her left eye, Vaughn wondered why he and Sydney had been so eager when their child had become vocal so quickly. At three their little commander was speaking in nearly full sentences and learning to trace letters and numbers, and she wasn't afraid to turn her intelligence on her parents.
Thus began negotiations.
"You can have five minutes to put away the toys you don't want to take for a nap."
"I can take some for nappy time?"
"Yes. You can pick toys you want to take with you."
"Show me," she demanded, reaching for his arm and poking a chubby finger to the face of his watch.
With a grin the exasperated father dutifully pointed, "when the long one touches the three, time's up."
Five minutes to a toddler was an eternity, and though she stomped her foot and pouted, she nodded and bounced her ponytail. She took his hand and led him to the living room where she made one pile of toys on the couch and another on the reclining chair, babbling the whole time as if she were weighing pros and cons to decide which was worthy to share her naptime.
"Time's up," he announced, looking at his watch. It wasn't exactly up, but he knew she would use this ploy to push past the time and delay even longer the nap for which he'd desperately been waiting.
'Maybe she won't call me on it,' he thought.
"Show me," she asked again, waddling over to where he stood. "It's not on da free, daddy," she said matter-of-factly and moved back to the two piles leaving Vaughn to rub a hand over his face.
"Okay, bean, one more minute."
"When it has da free."
"Yes, when it's on the three."
She moved back to check the watch, big green eyes looking up when she knew time was up. "Dis one," she said, pointing to the dozen or so toys she chose to accompany them, and the pair scooped them up and carried them to the bedroom.
The small wooden bed painted half purple and half green as she had loved both was filled with toys, each tucked in around the little girl. As he pressed a kiss to her forehead and wished her, "good sleeps," a tiny hand flew out and caught his shirt.
"One story, daddy?"
'She pushes every button I have and then melts my heart. Is it going to be like this every day?'
"Izzy, it's past time for naps."
He expected another fight, but behind her watery green eyes he saw wheels turning. "Two for beddy time?"
Bedtime was Sydney's domain. "Sure, two stories at bedtime."
"Tell mommy," she commanded and rolled over, a fluffy purple platypus pulled against her chest as she closed her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.
Closing the door save for a crack, Michael grabbed several files from the office and scattered them across the larger kitchen table to get some work done while she napped. An hour later, he peeked in and found Isabelle still sound asleep.
'Might as well check out the game from last night,' he thought, moving to the couch and flipping on the television.
Opening his eyes, his heart slammed into his sternum as he took in the late-afternoon sun reflecting on the wall and he realized that he'd fallen asleep. A small pink blanket was draped over his chest and lap, and he sat up in a panic until two feminine voices echoed from the other room.
"Can I, mommy?"
"I'll chop and you mix it up in the bowl," Sydney answered, and his worry dropped to manageable levels. Standing with a groan, he picked up the dropped blanket and tossed it back to the cushion.
"I do dinner, daddy!"
Running a hand over his face he stepped into the kitchen and heaved a relieved sigh. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"Naps are good," Isabelle chimed in as she used her tiny hands like a bowl and scooped up the carrots putting them into the bowl with the potatoes and stirring them around, the tip of her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. "I helped!"
"I see that," he commented and stepped in to press a kiss to Sydney's cheek and the top of their daughter's head as she stood on the step stool. "No daddy, come see."
"Before you panic, know that I've already retyped everything for Kendall. I left the one for my dad as is though, he'll get a kick out of it," she winked with a soft smile as he frowned.
He was confused, but his daughter grabbed his hand and led him to the table. As she climbed onto a chair, Vaughn's gaze landed on his paperwork and saw what she meant by 'helped'. His eyes sped across the room to the art nook and spotted the crayons, paints, and markers right where they belonged, though evidence of their use was across all of his reports due the next day. From the citrus scent that lingered, he knew that the table had also suffered from the art project Isabelle had made of his assignments.
"See? So pretty!"
"It sure is, thank you for helping sweetheart," he said, pressing another kiss to the top of her head before carrying her back over and setting on the stool to continue helping prepare dinner. "Thank you for saving me," he whispered, a kiss to his wife's temple followed with a chuckle.
"How long was I out?"
She shrugged and focused on chopping the celery, Isabelle taking the pieces and mixing them in with the carrots, an occasional one finding its way into her mouth with a crunch. "I got home and Izzy was helping with your reports after covering you with a blanket. It was pretty cute."
"I shouldn't have sat down to watch the game," he muttered, Sydney buzzing through her lips.
"It's fine, we've Izzy-proofed the bad stuff. Besides, I think it adds a certain air of professionalism, wouldn't you say, little bean?"
"Perfesh'nalism, daddy."
…
Soft fingers ran through her hair, Isabelle waking slowly and turning to curl into her mother's legs as she tried to get cozy and go back to sleep.
"Come on, bean, it's past time to get up. Daddy already left for work," Sydney crooned seeing the green eyes open with slow blinks.
The mother continued her prodding before getting up and heading to the dresser across the room. "What do you want to wear today?"
"Can I be something?" The little question was still filled with sleep as the four and a half year old with tousled brown hair sat up.
"What do you want to be?"
"A cowboy." Much like everything else she said, it was so matter-of-fact and precise, and Sydney smiled.
"A cowboy? Okay. Let's be a cowboy today."
Rewarded with a beaming smile and mischievous giggle, Isabelle leaped out of bed and the pair got dressed, had breakfast, then set out to become cowboys. Climbing onto her mother's lap, Sydney went online and they found the perfect costume they could buy as well as copy today out of construction paper and fabric.
"Wait, mommy," the little hand landed over hers on the mouse before she could click purchase. "What's tomorrow?"
Sydney was always surprised by her daughter, and today was no different. "What do you mean?"
Scoffing and tossing her brown hair over her shoulder as if she was a teen and not a toddler, "mommy, we can't be cowboys forever. Tomorrow's not a today; it's a tomorrow."
Hours later, Vaughn entered the house to strange music playing over the in-wall speakers, a frown crinkling his face as he moved through the hallway into the open area between the kitchen and the living room.
'Is that...honky-tonk?'
A wide section of butcher paper was taped to the side of the center island in the kitchen entry and read SALOON in big blocky letters. Intricate swirls and colors inside the letters and around the edges was evidence of his girls working together on a project that had probably kept them busy all day. Looking left he spotted more butcher paper draped over the ottoman, paper towel tubes sticking down the sides right and left with another out the center of one end topped with cut strings of yarn.
It and the stool across from it resembled horses, but he may have extrapolated that from the western music and the saloon sign at the entrance to the kitchen.
"Howdy pardner," a little voice called to him, and he looked ahead, his daughter blocking his path with finger guns stuck inside paper-folded holsters on her hips attached to a leather belt where a silver-painted piece of paper served as a buckle. He recognized the belt as one of his, though it was much too long and wrapped around her two and a half times before being held together with a piece of yarn.
Looking down he saw brown fabric glued to her socks at the shin and hanging down over her feet into a triangle just past her toes, a good attempt at imitation boots without having a pair on hand. As his eyes trailed up he saw a brown matching fabric vest colored with pink puffy paint seams and about fifteen buttons of all shapes, sizes, and colors along both the left and right sides. Topping it all off was a half cardboard-half construction paper cowboy hat, her hair hanging in two pigtails over her shoulders beneath the brim and behind her ears.
"Howdy, little lady." He adopted a western drawl and tipped an imaginary hat in her direction before setting his briefcase against the wall to his left.
She nodded, her brow shaded beneath the stiff cardboard oval brim. "No daddies ayowed at dis sayoon."
The fact that she still had problems with the L's in her sentences was his current favorite thing, and he refused to correct her, as did his wife. He wanted to laugh but knew he couldn't. The glare of her green eyes and the hard, serious lines of her mouth were offset by the rounded baby cheeks that she was starting to outgrow, and he felt a pang in his heart that his little girl was growing up far too fast for his liking. So he acted; setting his shoulders and straightening his stance, he met her gaze with confidence as he took off the blazer and dropped it over his briefcase.
His holster was still around his shoulders though the weapon was locked in the safe in the garage, routine after coming home from the office, but he pulled it tight and hovered his hand over the empty leather pocket anyway.
"I don't mean no trouble," he offered.
"Okay!" The single word was so bright and bubbly and the air of intimidating seriousness disappeared so quickly he was caught off guard as she hopped forward in a strange running skip jump and vaulted into his arms.
"I see you've been having fun today," he said, moving into the kitchen and finding Sydney grinning against the counter wearing a similar constructed hat and vest with paper holsters at her hips over her jeans.
"We went to the yiberry and read all 'bout cowboys! Yook at...uh...what's dat word, mommy?" Isabelle climbed down and rushed into the living room to jump on top of the ottoman to grab the yarn that served as reins.
"Stables."
"Dees are da stables, daddy. You can ride dat one," she pointed to the other chair before rocking back and forth pretending to take off through fields of grass.
"Good day?" Sydney asked, casting the hat to the counter as he walked up and leaned in to press his lips to hers.
"No, daddy, you have to pay for kisses in the sayoon" their daughter commanded.
Sydney winced, "I may have accidentally taught her about brothels when saying that you had to pay for everything at a saloon," she whispered, Michael laughing.
"You're the teacher," he conceded.
...
Sydney sat on the couch with a book in her lap as Vaughn read through files at the table. He sighed, standing with a stretch, and stepped into the kitchen to open the fridge.
"Drink?" He didn't get a response and looked up, his wife staring out the veranda door, closed tight in the evenings to ward off the cold winter air off of the ocean. "Syd?"
Snapping out of her thought she smiled apologetically. "Sorry. What's up?"
"Everything okay?"
She nodded with a bright smile. "Yeah."
"Water?"
She shook her head.
"Wine?"
She shook it again and his eyes narrowed. "That makes three," he said and leaned against the counter with a frown wrinkling his forehead.
Her frown matched, though it was borne of confusion. "Three what?"
"Three nights in a row that you've said no to a glass of wine."
A grin tilted her lips, but she just shrugged. "So? I hate chardonnay and it's the only bottle that's open right now."
His suspicious glare intensified. "You love wine, though. We could open something else," he suggested, though his suspicion was piqued.
Sydney laughed, the book set aside despite the fact she hadn't really been reading it anyway. "You make me sound like an alcoholic."
"You're hiding something."
Sydney rolled her eyes and turned sideways on the couch, her arm slung over the back. "Fine. I'll have some wine."
His squint narrowed into a glare, so he decided to call her bluff. "The rosé?"
Her response was a swirling gesture with her hand that implied agreement, and he held her stare while walking slowly over to the stocked wine rack.
Grabbing the bottle, his fingers wrapped around the neck, he lifted his eyebrows prompting an eye roll accompanied by an overly dramatic sigh.
Pulling the bottle from the rack it lifted far too easily, and he was startled by the sudden rattle against the glass. Holding it up, the hanging lights above that section of counter shining through the tint, and he saw that there was something solid inside the liquidless bottle.
Looking back and holding it up as if demanding some kind of answer, Sydney was now perched on her knees with her arms propped up on the back, head on her palm with a small smile on her face.
"So you were hiding something," he commented, Sydney shrugging.
"You caught me...eventually. After a big hint."
Popping the cork, he tipped the bottle and shook it until the jingling item finally angled the right way down the neck and fell to the counter with a plastic clatter.
"It took three days for you to suggest the rosé," she said quietly.
"I may have forgotten that you didn't like chardonnay."
Sydney chuckled as he picked up the little plastic stick and tried to tilt it under the light to see what it was. "I'll be offended later."
Michael grunted and squinted as he saw the small window trying to decipher what he was reading. Two faint blue lines caught his attention.
"Holy shit, are you serious?" His excitement was sudden and joyous, Sydney grinning.
"Yeah."
"It's only been a little over a month, though." Tossing it to the counter he moved to the couch.
"Apparently we're dangerously reproductive," she giggled lightly as he leaned down to cup her cheek and catch her lips in a kiss. Pulling his shoulders with her hands she all but yanked him over the back of the couch as he settled above her.
"You could have just told me. How long have you known?"
Sydney laughed. "I've known for four days, but it wasn't as much fun to just tell you, I wanted to surprise you."
Michael huffed as he slid down until his head was lined up with her currently flat stomach. Undoing the bottom buttons of her shirt to reveal her skin, he pressed light kisses below her navel as her hand ran through his hair and massaged his scalp.
"You're only a month or so behind Francie," he grinned, Sydney realizing with a smile that she and her best friend would be pregnant at the same time.
"Isabelle is going to be so excited," she whispered, Michael blowing a quiet chuckle across her skin as his hand flattened against her stomach, his chin propping just behind his fingers. "It's been this or a puppy for a solid month."
"Hopefully she wanted a sibling more than a puppy."
…
"I see the prize; over" the voice crackled over the speaker, Jack on his stomach as he crawled through the tight space.
"Copy that, Phoenix. Can you reach it?"
Her hand reached, the fingers barely able to touch the edge of the pedestal from her position. "It's too high; over."
Grunting and stopping, his hand bringing the walkie talkie back up to his mouth. "Can you find a chair to stand on?"
Her brown eyes scanned the room and spotted an ottoman sitting in front of a plush couch. "Yes; over."
From his position, he could hear the scraping over the hard-wood floor. His elbows dragged his body across the floor as he moved toward the end of the bend ahead, the low ceiling of the shaft and the tight walls not giving him much room to bear-crawl, though he was thankful it was wood and not carpet.
A mechanical noise whirred behind him making him look back toward the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, and he knew the access door adjacent to the next room was being accessed. "We don't have a lot of time, Phoenix. Can you get the prize?"
Climbing up onto the sturdy wooden seat, the pedestal before her stood tall as the glass-encased book was finally within her reach. Tucking a loose lock of brown hair behind her ear, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the silver key. With trembling fingers she reached toward the lock, the beeping of the security panel making her heart pound in her ears.
The lock clicked, the glass door swung open, and she wrapped her fingers around the hard-bound book making sure to be careful as she slid it into the messenger's back slung over her shoulder. Turning, she ran down the hallway in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could carry her.
"Freeze, thief," a voice called out stopping her in her tracks. She turned slowly with her hands up in the air.
She peeked to the left and spotted the open end of the shaft, the man's eyes narrowing. "You'll never make it," he challenged in a low voice.
Deciding to go for it, she dove for the entrance and landed with a thud on her stomach. As she began to shimmy inside, hands grabbed and pulled her back before vaulting her over a shoulder, fingers tickling her ribs forcing peals of laughter from her lips.
Her mother's voice echoed in the hallway, "hey, I thought we weren't doing any more heists after the lamp last week."
The grandfather finished his crawl from the cardboard tunnel with a winded chuckle, sitting up and dusting off his dress pants and the front of his button-up shirt. Wrapping his arms around his knees he met his daughter's folded arms, her face a mask of jovial sternness.
"Papa showed me Indiana Jones!" Set back to the floor by her father, the little girl beaming, and Vaughn noticed a long flowing braided piece of fabric through the loop on her side of the flower-patterned jeans and wondered quickly what had been used to create the makeshift bullwhip. "He told me stories about you going all around the world to find hiding prizes!"
"Thanks, dad," Sydney laughed as they moved into the kitchen and dropped the plastic bags onto the marble countertops.
The elder Bristow's response was to shrug and laugh. "Free babysitting has to come with some price, sweetheart."
Vaughn helped his father in law off the floor, the grey-haired grandpa dusting off his button-up shirt tucked into grey dress pants. Jack Bristow didn't seem to own anything other than dress suits and button-up shirts from what either of them had seen.
"Did you buy me a present, daddy?"
Pretending, Michael set his finger to his chin. "Did we buy you a present? Is it your birthday?"
"Not for three more months." Following closely behind her father, she tried to peek at the bags on the counter, but they were just too high.
"What was the heist prize this time, you two?"
Granddaughter and grandfather shared matching guilty looks, the taller looking down at the sheepish gaze of the shorter, and the little girl pulled the large messenger bag off of her shoulder and handed it to her mother. Inside, Sydney found bubble wrap padding the bottom, back, and front, and a soft smile hit her face as she extracted the first edition Alice in Wonderland from the carefully packaged bag.
"An excellent prize," she said, Isabelle relaxing. "Maybe next time we don't heist the really expensive, one-of-a-kind book, huh?" The youngster agreed with a nod. "Let's put it back."
Hefting the girl to her hip they made their way together to the pedestal, the glass door open with the silver key still in the lock. Isabelle set the book in on the stand with careful hands, and Sydney closed the door, the lock clicking with a turn of the key. Dropping it back into the vase on a shelf above, she let her daughter scamper back to the kitchen.
"Daddy, did you get me a present?"
"You know, I just can't remember," he said and she crossed her arms over her chest giving her best Bristow-esque glower topped by a Vaughn emerald glare.
"That's it!" Stomping her little foot, she set one hand akimbo as the other pointed up at her father. "No...more...games. I have an all tomato!"
The adults stopped dead, each looking back and forth in hopes that one of the others would be able to decipher the child's nonsensical order.
"An all tomato?" It was Sydney that clarified.
"You promised! I have an all tomato. That means you have to give me something!"
The parents grinned as their daughter played right into their surprise, albeit in a hilarious and unique way that only Isabelle Vaughn could manage. Michael spotted the still unsure look on Jack's face and mouthed, 'ultimatum'.
"Sweetheart, I'm sure there's something for you in one of these bags."
Sydney turned surprised eyes on her father. The tone in his voice and the softness on his face was so unlike the Jack Bristow she'd once known, and the fact that he would do anything for his granddaughter was evident.
"Tell papa the two things you've been begging for," the mother said nonchalantly, moving into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water.
"A baby or a puppy. You said! You said I could have one when I got older!"
"One of those things is in one of these bags," Michael said softly yet confidently, and Isabelle and Jack both froze.
It was an added bonus that her father was also present for the announcement, and Sydney grabbed a small card from her purse as Vaughn lifted a square shape hidden beneath plastic and moved to the kitchen table. Isabelle scampered to follow, Jack watching with curious steel-blue eyes until Sydney held the card for him to take.
"You get a present too," she smiled. "Thanks for babysitting."
"Daddy," the little whine indicated displeasure as well as a looming nap. "Not this kind of baby! I want a real baby!"
In the box was a new doll, which any child would be delighted to receive, but she glared at her father with a pout.
"This is for practice. In a few months, we'll have a real baby."
Confusion furrowed Jack's brow as he opened the card, his eyes flicking down before opening wide at the sonogram in his hand. He had no clue how to read it, much like he hadn't for their first child, but he heard Sydney's chuckle and met her smile with surprise.
"There's not much to see other than a grey blob at seven weeks, but they took the picture anyway. We'll know more soon."
"Congratulations, sweetheart," Jack said sweetly and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"What are you meaning?" Isabelle set both of her hands to her father's cheeks and held his face directly in front of hers. "Don't pretend me, daddy. No pretends."
Michael matched her stance, his own hand framing her small face as his thumbs rubbed away the worry on her brow.
"This is practice for the real baby."
"When do we get the real baby? Why so many monfs away? Can you show me?" She pulled away and moved to the family calendar hanging on a low hook. "Can you show me when?"
Sydney grabbed the marker from the counter and crouched down. It was early January, so she flipped to the end of the year. "Sometime near the end of summer."
"How many monfs?"
"About eight months."
Isabelle fired off an eye roll and a dramatic sigh, the back of her hand hitting her forehead as if she were to faint, and she flopped down to her bottom in a heap on the floor.
"Why can't we have one now?"
Sydney laughed and stood, moving back into the kitchen to put away groceries and begin to prepare for dinner. "We talked about it, bean. The baby has to grow. Remember?"
"I don't yike waiting," she grumped, her small fingers playing with a frayed string at the bottom of her jeans.
"Tell you what," Sydney said from inside the fridge. "We'll go to the bookstore tomorrow and get a planner, and you can help me put all the steps onto the calendar."
Vaughn patted Jack on the shoulder and gestured to the fridge. "No, no, I'll get out of your hair."
"You might as well stay for dinner, dad. You're already here," Sydney offered, though she'd seen the tiredness in her father's eyes after nearly a full day with his granddaughter and knew exactly how he felt.
"Pweeze stay, papa! Pweeze!" Hopping up from her spot sulking on the floor, she careened into the elder's knees with a fierce hug. The grandfather let out a soft sigh, agreeing after hefting her up to his hip.
The group had dinner inside before heading out to sit around the fire pit, several of the chaise lounge and outdoor patio chairs moved close. Though there was a chill in the air, but a breezeless night was rare and they'd all been cooped up enough to slip on warm jackets and brave the temps. Despite a cloudless sky, night came all too soon and Isabelle's bedtime was marked by the last vestiges of light releasing their hold on the horizon. At the moment, the little girl was sound asleep across Jack's chest as he reclined on a chair with a smile on his face. His feet were propped and crossed at the end of the chaise, and all attempts by both parents to put the little one to bed were thwarted by Jack's whisper.
"She's not going to fit here forever, she's fine."
The moon was shining somewhere out of sight and the sound of the waves washing back and forth lulled all of them into silence. Approaching half past nine, Isabelle woke and sat up from her spot on her grandfather's lap in a groggy haze.
"I need to go to bed," she said decidedly and climbed down. With soft and drowsy steps she walked to her father's side and reached for him, Michael setting down his glass of wine and getting up, her little hand wrapping around his fingers and leading him back toward the house.
She paused at the doorway, huffing as if frustrated by a sudden thought or realization. Letting go of Vaughn's hand she slowly padded back to Jack's side and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek and wrap her little arms around him as far as they would go.
"I hope I see you for breffest tomorrow, papa," she whispered in his ear before accepting a kiss to the forehead. Doing the same with her mother, she reclaimed Michael's hand and lead him into the house to be tucked in for the night.
"Do you want one of us to drive you back? It's getting pretty late and I know she wore you out," Sydney suggested quietly, surprised when her father folded his hands over his stomach as a relaxed sigh left his lips.
"I might stay if that's alright."
In almost five years he'd never stayed, and Sydney's heart fluttered at the chance of spending more than a few hours a week with him, especially without Isabelle demanding his attention. Once a week he stopped by for lunch or to help watch the little girl after preschool if Deloreme or Francie weren't available, and she was finally seeing a side of her father that she could remember only if she thought hard enough.
His blue eyes looked over at his daughter and the soft, goofy look on her faraway face. "Sydney? Is it alright if I stay?"
This snapped her free of her thoughts. "Of course, dad. Yeah. Of...of course."
The pair lapsed back into silence, Jack's eyes staring up at the star-filled sky. Sydney, however, kept sneaking glances at her father. This territory wasn't familiar, despite the fact that they'd gotten closer than any other time in her life these last few years. He was completely relaxed and looked ten years younger, though she wasn't sure if that was just the low glow of the fire that kept them warm from a few feet away.
Jack could feel the unsurety of her energy and from the corner of his periphery could see her stealing glances every few moments.
"When Danny called me to ask for my blessing to marry you," he started quietly, "there's something that I never admitted...to either of you."
He left a pause for her to confirm, but when she didn't, he continued.
"I desperately wanted 'normal' for you, Sydney, and I knew he was your best chance at having a normal life. I'd been working for months on getting you out from under the thumb of the Alliance, and when Danny called, I knew it was your chance. Marrying him, having kids," he paused again, "you couldn't be a field agent and do that at the same time."
"You did," she countered in a quiet whisper, and his momentum was stalled.
Turning and fixing gentle blue eyes on her nervous face, he could see emotions flickering with the ebb and flow of the flames. "You were never my liability, Sydney. I...when I said that I was angry. You've always been that bright light that kept me on the right path, and I never thanked you for that. Staying as a field agent when you were young was the biggest mistake I've ever made, sweetheart."
"Dad-" her voice was watery, the bubble catching in the back giving Jack the opportunity to keep going.
He interrupted by sitting up, his elbows resting on his knees keeping his stance an open reflection of his words. Pointing toward the house, "that little girl is perfect, Sydney. She's my second chance."
"At what?"
She spotted the quiver of his chin and the dancing flames reflected in the shining tears pooling in his eyes. "To do things right. To be...good."
Jack's eyes followed as Sydney not only sat up but stood, her movements shy and wary, uncommon for her, and her wringing fingers belied her nervousness as she parked herself next to him. The pair sat awkwardly for a moment, Jack unsure what to do about her sudden closeness and Sydney not really understanding what drove her to move to his side in the first place.
"I missed so much, Sydney. Almost every birthday, recital, school event. I'm not going to do that with her." His words had the hard edge she was accustomed to, though the content of those words was anything but hard.
"What...what if I want to be the second chance?"
The ask froze Jack to his core and a moment of panic settled into his stomach twisting it into a knot.
"Before I understood, I didn't miss you. I didn't remember missing you, I mean. I remember the games of hide and seek, the presents wrapped with pink bows, the compliments you gave me at three in the morning when I decided that I needed to practice tap dancing with the new shoes you'd gotten me for Christmas, and I remember going on hikes in the hills. You'd crouch down at every single rock, every bug, and everything I found interesting, you did too."
"Sydney-" it was her turn to cut him off.
"You invented a monster spray and had the guys at the office make an official label for the bottle to keep me from being scared at night from the monsters I was sure were in my closet. 'Official C.I.A.-Grade Monster Spray'. You took me to the office and let me spend meetings spinning in your chair and drawing on your reports."
"Sydney-"
"You forgot, dad, I didn't. We drifted apart because both of us made that choice, even a little accidentally. I maybe have forgotten that I needed you, and you assumed that I didn't." Sydney wiped at the tears on her cheeks, her other hand pointing toward the warm house, "Isabelle has an amazing dad already, so I need you to be her amazing grandfather. She can't be your second chance."
"Maybe I...shouldn't stay tonight," he wavered, but her laugh and the fact that she'd pulled his hand between hers across her lap lessened his worry.
"You don't have to try so hard. Life happened, dad. A lot of life happened. But look where we are," she ordered and pointed ahead to the quiet solitude of the secluded beach.
Moonlight streamed from somewhere behind the house, the long shadows of the angled roof and the tall palms were slowly creeping across the sand and moving over the shells lying in the surf. The sky contained more stars than he knew existed and the black expanse of the sea stretched into the faintest sliver of remaining sunset at the farthest point his eyes could see. He heaved a sigh as contentment flooded in an replaced despair in his chest.
"I have the normal that you wanted me to have. Sure, not the way either of us planned, but if there's one thing I've learned it's that Bristow's shouldn't make plans."
That made him laugh, a sniffle hiding behind the wipe of an escaping tear.
"What if I'm still bad at it, sweetheart?"
Sydney leaned into him and dropped her head onto his shoulder, her fingers still clutching his hand between hers over her knees. "You were never bad at it, daddy, you were just...unconventional."
Silence save for the lazy in and out of the tide left him to ponder the gross understatement she'd tossed into the air. "You're also making breakfast in the morning," she grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Untangling their hands and rising with a stretch and a sigh, "I'll go get the guest room ready if you'll put out the fire."
Jack promised and watched her walk into the brightly lit home. Finding himself lying back against the chaise and pondering the normality of his daughter's life, he realized that she'd been settled into this normal for years and he was the one stuck in the past. He was still thinking of her as the bright new SD-6 field agent, the experienced and amazing field agent eight years later when they started working together, the girl bloodied in the chair, and the hopeful worrier locked in a basement.
None of the normal surrounding him was new to her despite the fact that it felt new to him every time he made the drive, every time he saw the house, and every time he played with his granddaughter.
Sydney had outgrown being the new girl in the office, the experienced girl excelling at everything she set her mind to, the broken girl in the chair, and the nervous girl in the basement. Hell...she wasn't a girl and hadn't been for a long time. She was almost thirty-five with a five year old daughter and another baby on the way.
Why had it taken so long for him to realize that she wasn't a little girl any longer?
The moon made the trek across the sky ending up above him and the fire died down to a smoldering crackle of blackened wood lined with streaks of molten red and orange, but still he lay on the chaise to stare at the slowly turning sky. His thought made him grin as he recalled a moment with his little girl many years ago.
"Papa?"
"Yes, princess?"
"Why does the sky turn?"
Jack was caught off guard by the question as he lay on his back in the soft grass of the yard with his five-year-old as they stared up at the stars. "What do you mean?"
"The stars are in different spots and if you watch it for a long, long time, the sky turns the stars away." She pointed with a little finger, the long sleeve of her pink nightgown clutched in the folded fingers against her palm. If Laura caught them out here at nearly two in the morning she'd have a heart attack, but he couldn't say no when she'd found him in his office and asked if he'd watch the stars with her in that tiny, heart-piercing voice.
"The Earth turns, princess, not the sky."
Glancing, he could see the wheels grinding behind her bright and curious brown eyes.
"Papa?"
"Yes, princess."
"Why does the Erff turn?"
A jingle pulled his focus to his right, a masculine hand holding a tumbler of amber liquid and ice cubes as a flash of moonlight danced off of the golden wedding band. Accepting it with a smile he heard his son-in-law settle in Sydney's abandoned chaise, a cling of ice against glass and an airy sip indicating that he was enjoying his own nightcap.
"Thanks, son," he said quietly. "Sorry I didn't come in," he started, but Vaughn waved him off.
"I get lost out here too," he admitted.
"Sydney asleep?"
"Yep. Both girls are out cold."
Occasional slips broke the quiet, Jack's chuckle pulling Michael's attention. "I won't find anything floating in here, will I?" Gesturing to the half-empty glass with a knowing grin.
The younger man's response was a hearty laugh. "You'll have to drink to find out."
Jack shrugged and took another sip, his left arm sliding back behind his head. "It's beautiful out here."
"You'll have to stay more often," Michael started, leaving the sentence off and hoping the elder would take his hint to confess.
"Now that I've put in for retirement, you mean?"
Vaughn grinned. "Did you tell her?"
"Not yet. I don't know how to quit, son. How...how did you quit?"
"I didn't," came the reminder.
Jack sat up. "But you would have?"
"If she'd asked? Yes."
"You quit being a field agent though."
Michael thought for a moment. "It was easy to walk away from the hardest parts of that job. The analysis borders on boring, but in almost five years I can count on one hand the number of times I've had to get on a plane and leave them behind. Do you know how easy the flight is to Virginia and back?"
The elder chuckled, "yes, I do."
"Have them keep you on retainer for analysis. You'll go less crazy. I've had plenty to distract me, Jack, and I'll never look back, but I worry about you dropping the job that's demanded so much of your energy for so long. My family can't be your new job." It seemed harsh, and though Michael intended for it to be startling, he wasn't prepared for the hurt look that passed the grandfather's face.
Sitting up, the younger softened his tone. "We want you around. Sydney has been reconnecting with you and Izzy loves you more than you'll ever know. You are always welcome here, but we can't become your new project. We can't be a C.I.A. replacement, dad."
This marked the third of three times Michael had surprised Jack with the title, and the senior nodded. "I do know that. I do," he whispered. "Analysis, eh?"
"Chess in the park...anything. You'll feel lost the first month or so, but things will settle into place." Finishing off the drink, Michael stood. "The guest room is yours whenever you're here."
…
