Chapter 9: Careening

Michael's hands ran over her back, tangling in her shoulder length hair as their mouths melded together. He couldn't hold in his moan as her tongue slid against his and he could taste the small glass of wine she'd had mixing with the sting of the bourbon he'd just finished off.

Sydney's hands weren't idle while Vaughn's massaged at the loosening muscles of her back, her own finding their way past the barrier that was his button-up oxford. Splaying her fingers over his chest, the warmth beneath her fingers seeping in, she felt his lips leave hers and move down her jaw to the column of her throat.

Sucking at the spot between her shoulder and neck she focused on the remaining buttons of his shirt, tugging it out of its semi-tucked in orientation and forcing it back over his shoulders. He released her for a moment to toss it off behind them, the room swaying as he shook his head – the small voice trying desperately to tell him to stop.

Michael continued to ignore it, his fingers skirting the hem of her t-shirt as he kissed his way across her collarbones and back up to her pouted lips. Their tongues dueled once more as he began lifting her shirt up, the voice getting louder and louder as it finally became his own:

"I promise, Laura. I give you my word that my relationship with Sydney will be 100% professional."

The thought was like ice to his libido, and though he couldn't hide the bulge in his trousers, he did have to put distance between himself and the shocked young woman he'd abruptly pushed away.

"Sydney…we…we can't do this."

…

One Week Earlier

Sydney slouched on the floor of the bathroom, her stomach emptied of the water she'd been trying to keep down. Willing her queasiness to dissipate she pulled her thighs up to her chest and squeezed them together with her arms. Resting her forehead on her knees she grunted in response to a knock on the door.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jack's head was the only thing visible, his eyes taking in the slump of his tired daughter's shoulders and the tainted water in the toilet. "Was it this bad with the other two?"

"I think I'm just prone to really bad morning sickness. It's my curse," she groaned, her face still hidden against the fabric of her pajama pants which muffled her voice.

"C'mon, I'll make you some peppermint tea."

Helping her off the floor after flushing the toilet he closed the lid and moved her to sit on it, handing her a glass of water and a swallow of mouthwash. "Your mother had terrible morning sickness with you, you know."

"Really?"

"Indeed. Starting at around eight in the morning and lasting all day for the first three months. It was the only time during the pregnancy where 'regret' and 'your fault' were spoken abundantly."

Sydney couldn't help but laugh before swirling the mouthwash around her teeth and tongue and standing to rinse in the sink. They made their way downstairs, her eyes coming to rest on the old wooden clock in the foyer: 3:25 in the morning.

"What are you doing up this late?"

"More like early. I couldn't sleep so I decided to work on some of your issues with credit cards, house payments etcetera."

Nodding understanding she slid onto the bar stool seat and flopped her head down on crossed arms over the counter. "None of my kids share my concept of 'morning'."

Jack laughed as he set the kettle on the stove, Sydney lifting her head and fixing him with worried eyes. "Should we be concerned that we sent Rick the divorce papers two weeks ago and haven't heard anything?"

"At least he stopped calling,"

"Nice try dad. Should we?"

Her father sighed, the screaming kettle giving him a chance to collect his thoughts as he opened up the cupboard and retrieved a mug and a tea bag. "It could mean that he's not willing to sign the papers."

"Does...does that mean that I can't get divorced?"

Jack shrugged, "I don't know, Sydney. Michael and Bill are coming over tomorrow - hopefully they'll have more answers for you than I do." Stirring in a teaspoon of sugar he slid the cup across and stepped back, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. His comfortable red terry cloth robe was tied to his waist, the ends frayed as Sydney smiled, remembering when she purchased it for him as a birthday present over ten years ago.

They stayed quiet, Sydney sipping on the tea and thanking her mother for keeping the peppermint in stock as it really was working to calm her stomach down. 'For now,' she thought.

"Well, get back to bed, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning," he muttered through a yawn, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaving the room.

Heaving a sigh she finished her tea, taking it over to the sink and rinsing it out. Deciding to wash the rest of the dishes that were left there from dinner she loaded up the dishwasher. Spotting crumbs near the toaster she grabbed a paper towel and the spray cleaner before tackling the counters, wiping them all off until the lemony scent of the cleaner wafted through the room.

Fatigue set in, Sydney flipping off the lights and trudging back upstairs to her room. Falling into bed and curling under the covers she passed out.

…

Laura answered the door a few moments after the ring, a smile on her face as she greeted the two lawyers. They were dressed casually, Michael wearing a pair of slacks and a green button up shirt while his father stood in a pair of jeans and a sweater.

"Come on in, we were just getting breakfast on the table."

Bill led the way, leaving his briefcase in the foyer and clapped his hands together in anticipation. "We always show up at the right time, don't we?"

Jack greeted them as Jake ran into the room flying an airplane and making buzzing noises with his mouth. "Hi, Michael!" After his greeting he was gone again, the sound of his plane noises wafting back from the other room.

They ate quietly, the Vaughn's noticing that Sydney was absent but understanding when Laura said she hadn't been feeling too well and as such hadn't gotten much sleep.

"I'll go see if she's up if you boys would like to do the dishes," she suggested, tossing her hands up as Bill and Jack regarded her with stares that said 'you're kidding, right?'

"I'll clean up, Laura," Michael laughed, standing and gathering the dishes from the pancakes, eggs, and sausage they consumed.

They all heard the "good boy" she'd tossed from the foyer, Bill and Jack escaping to the den as Jake watched the man with big blue eyes. He hadn't gotten up like his brother, scampering off to do heaven knows what, just staying at the table with curiosity written in his face.

"You don't have to stay here, Jake, you can go play if you want."

"You need help?"

Vaughn grinned and waved him over, kicking the little stool in place as the smiling boy jumped up and stuck his hands in the soapy water. "That's too hot for me," his little complaint was coupled by him yanking his hand back, Michael apologizing and adding a bit more cold water into the mix until his little fingers could handle the temperature.

"Alrighty, we need to get these dishes cleaned up a bit to put them in the washer. You want to use the sprayer to rinse them off?" At his avid nod they began, falling into the routine of Michael using the scrubber to get the plates mostly clean before holding it and letting the five-year old spray the soap away with a laugh.

Noah ran into the room chasing a large-wheeled truck and, spotting his brother helping Michael, he immediately wanted to help as well. The young lawyer put the toddler to work; handing him the rinsed silverware – minus the knives - and letting him put them in the dishwasher. They worked as a team until the items got too big for the two-year old to ferry, a small fit being thrown when Michael stopped letting him help.

"Ummm…it's too heavy, Noah. Why don't you help me carry it over?"

The tears were immediately gone as his little hands joined Vaughn's on the pan, carrying it to the dishwasher and fitting it in. He clapped his little hands and picked his truck back up, distraction setting in though he stayed in the room with his brother and new friend.

"The cups don't look dirty," Jake commented, seeing the shine of the glass as all the juice had been rinsed out.

"You know, you're right. I think we can put them away when we're done."

He smiled, setting the hose down for a minute to wipe his wet hands on his overalls, Michael holding up the last dish for him to rinse. Grabbing the sprayer he squeezed it, realizing all too late that he was holding it sideways. The spray went straight up and into Michael's face, soaking his shirt and forcing him to drop the dish in the sink as he attempted to divert the water until it stopped.

Wiping his eyes he looked down at the boy, expecting to see his blue eyes dancing and a large smile on his dimpled cheeks. Instead saw a terrified child with tears filling and spilling from his eyes. His only thought, only idea, was to laugh.

Mostly because it was a funny situation. He laughed out loud and looked at his shirt, the garment soaked through and a shade darker than before. Jake looked confused for a minute until a small smile spread his lips and he looked at the nozzle in his hands. Laughter meant that the man wasn't angry and that he wasn't in trouble. Relief washed over his tiny body as he began to giggle, the laughing growing as he set down the sprayer and picked up the dish, setting it in with the others.

"Sorry," he giggled, Michael waving it off with another chuckle as a thump and a scream filled the room. Vaughn's eyes flew to Noah, who had apparently abandoned the truck – again – to help with the dishes some more. A mug now lay on the floor, thankfully not broken, and two chubby hands covered his face as he cried.

He heard footfall, hoping it was either Sydney or Laura since he didn't quite know what to do in this situation, but reacted by quickly making his way over to where Noah was standing. "Oh, buddy, you okay?"

Lifting him up the boy threw his arms around Michael's neck and buried his face in his wet shirt. "Let me see, pal,"

A muffled and strangled, "no," filled his ear along with another screaming cry as Jack hustled into the kitchen. "What happened?"

"He got knocked by that mug there, but I can't see where."

Explaining over the cries of the infant Michael was instantly relieved to see Laura reenter. "Goodness…I leave you all for a few minutes and look at what happened." Jake stood in front of Michael, his hand reaching as high as he could to pat his brother's leg in an attempt to make the toddler feel better.

Noah kept his grip firmly on the younger Vaughn, refusing to lift his head even for his grandmother. "Owie!"

"Can I see your owie, darling?" The grandmotherly voice soothed even Vaughn, his heart racing and guilt bubbling up as he realized he should have been paying closer attention to the boy.

"No…hurts!" Burrowing farther into Michael's shirt, his large hand rubbing circles over his back, Noah cried.

"What's going on?" At the sound of his mother's voice he pulled away and reached for her, a large knot swelling above his eye and a smear of blood on his eyebrow. The blunt crease behind the blond hair was stained red as another drop plopped down to his chubby cheek. "Oh…honey," she cooed, pulling him up and cupping his chin to get a closer look at his eye.

"Sorry, Syd, he just…needed more eyes than I had I suppose."

She sent Michael a comforting smile before carrying the crying boy upstairs to the large bathroom she'd spent most of the morning in.

Jake tugged at Michael's wet shirt, "is my brother okay?"

"Oh, he'll be fine pal. Why don't you go play and he'll be back down soon." Needing no further encouragement Jake moved off, grabbing his airplane, before buzzing out of the room.

Laura fixed laughing eyes on the young, green-eyed man, Vaughn following her gaze to his haggard appearance. "Never let him be the one to rinse the plates off," his pointing finger followed the five-year old zipping away, Jack slapping him on the shoulder and explaining that he'd been victim to Noah doing the same thing two days ago with the garden hose.

Sharing a laugh Laura left to find her uninjured grandson as Jack offered to find Michael a replacement shirt, two of them heading up the stairs. They could hear the sniffles and soft sobs from the open bathroom, Michael peeking in and seeing Sydney placing a butterfly Band-Aid over the little boy's injury.

"How's he doin'?"

"Oh, he's okay. He has a scar on the top of his head from doing the same thing last year. I'm starting to think this kid is a walking black hole – sucking things off of counters and onto his face."

He laughed, Jack handing him a t-shirt. "Why are you all wet?" Sydney questioned, Michael rolling his eyes with a dimpled smile as Noah stuck his thumb in his mouth and waved at the man from his seat next to the sink.

"Your son attacked me with the kitchen sprayer."

"You gave it to him?"

"Hey…they're not my kids!"

He shook his head at her laugh, Noah even smiling through his crocodile tears as Sydney finished, placing a gentle kiss above the injury and lifting him up on her hip before leaving the bathroom and flipping off the light.

A slight bout of queasiness hit her, her face paling and she stopped in the doorway to take a deep breath.

"Woah…you okay?"

"Yeah…just…not feeling too good today." She collected herself and flashed him a smile, chuckling once more at his soggy shirt. "Go change your shirt. Now you know to never trust either of my sons with a hose."

Agreeing he patted Noah's back and entered the bathroom behind her.

"We're running into a bit of a glitch here, Sydney," Bill said peering through his glasses at a letter he pulled out of his briefcase.

"He's apparently found a pro bono lawyer to help him and his letter says that he won't agree to anything unless you meet him face to face."

She paled and shook her head, "I can't do that."

"We're trying to work around it, but there might not be a choice here. If you want a divorce you might have to. Now there are things in this letter from the lawyer that…point to Rick making you out as the bad guy. Kidnapping is mentioned – don't worry, alright? The evidence is on our side, trust me on that one. Michael has agreed to meet with Rick and his lawyer before we even consider taking you out there."

Sydney bit at the nail of her thumb, her other hand tucking the hair behind her ear. "I thought you said this would be easy?"

Michael sent her a smile, Bill chuckling a bit. "Nothing is ever easy, Sydney, but we were hoping that he'd just agree to everything and be done with it. However, now that we know that isn't the case we'll deal with it. I didn't want to make you worry but I did want you to be informed about the situation."

"When are you meeting with them?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I fly out tonight to get things prepared. If the lawyer knows what's good for him he'll drop this case after seeing what Rick was actually like. We're not relying on 'he said she said' here, Syd, we're going for the killing blow – as it were."

The young woman agreed with a nod, Jack interrupting as he entered with a knock. "Am I allowed in for this one?"

"Of course, Jack. We were just filling Sydney in." Bill peered down at his watch, seeing Michael do the same. "Well, we should get going. We'll call you in a couple days and let you know how it goes, alright?"

"Okay. Hey…be careful, Michael. Not…not that I don't think you can take him – just – be careful."

"Don't worry about me, worry about him." She laughed as they excused themselves, Jack taking up the elder Vaughn's seat.

"You okay?"

She shrugged and hung her head, forehead in her palms. "I don't know why I thought he'd make it easy,"

"Sweetheart, he won't be able to convince a single person that he deserves to you have you or the boys in his life. You know that."

She nodded, flashing a genuine smile when Laura walked into the room holding a sniffling Noah. Pushing away from his grandmother he settled onto Sydney's lap and cuddled into her chest, a rather large bruise beginning to form on his forehead.

"Let's just continue with our week, alright? Michael will take care of Rick and his lawyer, trust me. He's like a little bulldog."

"I'd love to see it if I wasn't such a wimp."

"Facing someone that abused you so much would be hard for anyone, honey. You'll have your moment, alright?"

'I'd still love to be there…' she thought as she pressed a kiss to the top of Noah's head.

…

24 hours later

"You must be Michael Vaughn; Stanley Fuller." A tall young man stuck his hand out as Michael entered the room, taking it quickly and setting his briefcase down.

The second his eyes fell on Rick he had to push down the urge to punch him in the nose. He sat in an old t-shirt, tattered at the ends with holes littering the front of it. His hair was disheveled but Vaughn couldn't help but see similarities between him and little Jake despite his haggard appearance and the scruffy beard on his face.

'Jake's the best thing to came from this asshole. He'll never become the man his father did, that's for sure.'

"Good afternoon, thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"Where's Mrs. Montgomery?"

"Ms. Bristow is still at her parent's home. I asked for this meeting without her to ascertain your intentions."

"I didn't agree to this – I said I'd do this if Sydney were here. She stole my kid and robbed me blind - I deserve to have her tell me why."

"Why don't we talk about Ms. Bristow for a moment, hmm?" Michael opened his case and lifted up a manila folder marked 'Angels Mercy'. "I read the letter that Mr. Fuller prepared and I realized that you had left out a few details; most likely by mistake. So, lucky for you, I remembered them."

"Mr. Vaughn, the simple fact is that Mrs. Montgomery kidnapped my client's child in the middle of the night. Coupled with stealing his credit cards I don't think that my accusations in the letter were unwarranted."

"The hard fact, Mr. Fuller, is that Sydney Bristow ran away from Mr. Montgomery because of nights spent like this," tossing the full color photo across the table toward the lawyer, whose eyes immediately flew to the man sitting beside him, he couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement in his chest. "I take it that these kinds of things were left out of Mr. Montgomery's statement, eh?"

"Would...would you give me a moment alone with my client, please?"

Michael agreed, snapping his case closed and exiting quietly.

"What the hell do these photos mean, Rick?"

"It was a car accident. I gave you pictures of the car! Ask anyone,"

"She was in the car? Why didn't you tell me that?"

Rick shrugged as the lawyer met his gaze with piercing hazel eyes. "You will tell me the truth from here on out. I'm doing this as a favor to you because we've been friends since high school. If I find out that you beat your wife and kids you'll have more than just a divorce on your hands."

Rick shrunk under the man's glare, watching as he readmitted Sydney's representation.

"My client assures me, and says I can call several people on this list for the evidence that this…trauma on Mrs. Montgomery was from a car accident. I have here photographs of the wrecked car as well as a statement from a Rebecca David, the children's babysitter and Mrs. Montgomery's long-time friend confirming the accident."

"Well I have Sydney Bristow's statement as well as the log from the paramedics that recorded her removal from her home, not a wrecked vehicle. Oh…I also have the recording of the 9-11 phone call made by a frantic four-year old little boy who found his unconscious mother on the floor of their living room. Can you imagine that? A toddler finding his mother lying on the floor in a pool of blood, barely breathing, having been beaten by his terrifying father with a baseball bat." His fierce green eyes pinned Rick to his seat, the other lawyer sighing and leaning back in his chair.

"Not convinced that your client is in the wrong here? Let me make it…abundantly clear for you." Tossing them both a photo of Jake, the cell phone image not pristine but not grainy enough to miss the large bruised welt along his cheek. "You beat...this precious little boy…with your belt."

Rage filled Rick's eyes as he rose quickly, knocking the chair back to the floor. "Hey, fuck you man! You don't know anything about me or about my relationship with my wife. I never laid a finger on her unless she needed it, and when she needed it, I put her in her place. Her and that little brat."

Mr. Fuller rose, collected his papers and sent a scathing glare at the outburst from the man he'd agreed to defend. "Good luck, Mr. Montgomery." Turning his face to Michael he reached out and shook the young man's hand, "I'm sure it's not much, but take everything he's got."

With that Rick was alone; his arms flopped down to his sides as Michael began gathering his papers together.

"I should have known that she'd run to her daddy. There's no way in hell that she could afford you unless she paid with pussy."

Vaughn fought the anger rising in his chest, forcing himself to continue putting away his papers. "I would have helped her for free."

"I'm not signing this shit. She doesn't get to win. She doesn't get to take my kid away from me."

Michael finally responded, though he knew it was what Rick wanted. "You keep saying kid. You do remember that you have two children, don't you? Or have you been so drunk his whole life that you've completely forgot about Noah?"

Rick faltered slightly, a frown marring his already disgruntled face. "Fuck you. You tell her that if she wants me to sign this shit, that she needs to tell me this herself. She always comes back to me, lawyer man. She's my wife."

"Listen to me you son of a bitch, I'm not telling her anything. You sign the papers or I will nail your ass to the wall. I have enough evidence against you to put you in prison for years where you can learn what it's like to become someone punching bag."

"She'll come back, and she'll bring me my kids."

"It's over. Those children will never call you father. You fucked up, not her. She's ending it; it's over."

Rick slammed his fist on the table, leaning over menacingly as he tried to intimidate the greene-eyd man. "Those are my kids. She has no right to take them from me." With his proximity he smelled the liquor on him, and gave him a once over from top to bottom. How the lawyer had missed the unmistakable bottle-top sticking out of the man's pocket he'll never know, but it was now clear as day that the abuser was mostly drunk.

"You're a drunken fool that ruined his family. The amazing thing is that now Sydney doesn't have to worry about you, she's actually happy. The boys are actually happy. I'll be damned if I'll let you ruin that, Rick." Michael shook his head as he turned to leave, Rick's words freezing him in his tracks.

"I'll go to her if she won't come to me."

Vaughn set his briefcase down and turned protective green eyes on the angry man across from him. "If you go near her, or the children, you won't have time to regret it."

"What…a restraining order?" Rick scoffed, moving around the table to square off with the lawyer. "I've gotten around those before. Tell her that I can't wait to see her."

The punch was thrown before Michael could think, his body going into autopilot as he sucked in a heavy breath over the prone, bleeding figure at his feet. "If you have any brains, you'll stay down."

Grabbing his case and straightening his jacket he paused with a hand on the knob chancing one more look at the broken-nosed man. "Sign the damn papers tomorrow or you will be seeing me again…understand?"

Without waiting for an answer he left.

…