Chapter 13: Cobwebs

Getting into the hotel, unpacking, eating an early lunch had all but wiped her out. Michael knocked and heard nothing, moving into the room slowly and cautiously and finding her asleep atop the coverlet. He grabbed an extra blanket and draped it over her back before leaving to his room to finish some paperwork.

She didn't wake until dinner time, and though she said she was still tired, they'd silently eaten dinner together while watching a movie in her room at the hotel before she tucked herself into bed halfway through the flick and he let himself out to his room across the hall. She'd looked weary if the bags under her eyes had been any indication, and he wasn't surprised by her early turn in.

The next morning, having not received a call from the hospital, the two headed over to the house. It was a quaint little townhouse, end unit, and had big picture windows at the front. Children's books were scattered on the wooden sill, Sydney explaining that it was Jake's reading nook as she fumbled in her purse for her keys.

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it that I left my keys back in New York?"

Michael laughed seeing she was in a better mood than the night before. This morning she actually looked refreshed and brightness shone in her eyes that spoke of resolution.

"Back door?" He asked lightly and they made their way around to the other side of the house on the sidewalk to the right.

"Oh, Sydney, dear! I haven't seen you in weeks! How was your family vacation?" The elderly neighbor called out from her patio garden as Sydney rounded the corner with Michael in tow. "You must be a friend of Rick's?"

'Hell no,' Sydney and Michael thought at the same time, unbeknownst to the other.

"Actually I'm Sydney's lawyer. We just came to pack things up here at the house." He smiled cordially, attempting to look as professional as possible. It wasn't hard as the only thing he'd brought with him were three suits along with accompanying shirts, ties, and slacks. So the dark blue button-up tucked into the charcoal grey pants did make him look a bit more professional than jeans and a t-shirt.

The older woman cooed as Sydney mentally cursed Michael for starting neighborhood gossip. "Oh dearie, I'm so glad."

"Thanks, Mrs. Tally. We're on a bit of a tight schedule, so if you don't mind, we should get packing." The woman saw quickly that Sydney wasn't in a talking mood and made her way back to her patio with a dismissive wave.

"Good to see you, dearie. Come around again soon, we love that little Jacob!"

Michael saw her smile a fake smile as she made her way through the small, gated yard and up the walk to the covered patio of the house. "Not likely," she whispered, the frown on her face lightening up as he chuckled behind her. "Ugh, it's locked."

Vaughn looked around, picking up a loose rock from the long-dead garden and using it to break the little window above the doorknob. "Breaking and entering, Mr. Vaughn," Sydney joked and he laughed, tossing the rock onto the other side of the patio.

"I know a good lawyer," he responded and the peal of laughter from her lips made his heart light. She stuck her small hand in through the window and unlocked it from the inside, pushing the door open and walking into her home.

A funky smell lurked in the kitchen, the trash can overflowing mostly with bottles and cans, though pizza in boxes sat molding on the countertops scattered around empty or half-full bottles of beer. She pushed past the kitchen and into the living room, finding ever more bottles and cans tossed on the floor and on every available flat surface. The cream-colored carpet was covered in blotchy stains. She attempted to flick on the light seeing that there wasn't any power, which didn't surprise her as the bills sitting on the table near the door were stacked so high they were tumbling off onto the floor.

"You'd think we owned a liquor store," she grumbled sadly, setting her stuff down on one of the arm chairs and heaving a sigh.

"We'll get it cleaned up. When is that realtor coming by?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I think."

Michael nodded. "I'll grab the boxes from the car and the trash bags and we shall begin the great purge."

His enthusiasm made her feel better, though she felt small and lost standing in the living room by herself. It simultaneously was and was not her living room, much like she assumed the rest of the house looked. Along the mantle above the fireplace were bottles of whisky, most empty though some still had liquor floating in the bottom along with cigarette butts, and on the tile below were pieces of glass and broken picture frames from the photos that had once lived on the shelf. Lifting them gingerly she found the pictures of her and the boys and she put those into her purse across the room leaving anything with Rick's face on the floor among the shards.

As Michael reentered they set out to get the trash out of the home before starting to pack anything. "We could make a literal fortune on recycling," he joked, attempting to keep everything more upbeat. As the day dragged on the disarray of the home was beginning to weigh on Sydney. Several times Michael had to pull her out of a memory or a moment standing and staring at a particular part of the home. Things went quiet and he turned to peek into the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, seeing her looking with glistening eyes at a depression in the drywall of the hallway. She wasn't sharing any stories and for that Michael was thankful, but he knew she would break if she kept internalizing things as she was doing.

"All that's left is…the fridge, you wanna help?"

Not knowing how long the power had been out meant that the refrigerator had been sitting for who knows how long with who knows what inside of it. She shook her head but it worked to jar her from whatever memory she was having. She opened the door to the basement and stopped for a moment at the landing, looking to the spot where Jake had been sitting in time out after his father had finally struck him. She could almost see him sitting there in the dark at her feet and her heart hurt for the millionth time that day – that hour. Closing the door she decided to skip the basement and walked through the kitchen, her face was slightly pale. She leaned against the counter for a moment before tossing the mostly full bag out onto the patio through the open sliding glass door.

"Now or never," Michael ground out with a brave front, making sure the kitchen windows behind him were open. He flung the door open and, with a relieved sigh noted that it was pretty much empty save for an unopened six pack of beer, a closed Tupperware filled with mysterious green and white mold and a grey liquid at the bottom, and what may have been oranges at some point, he wasn't sure.

"That could have been a lot worse," she mumbled and took a breath, the counter once again supporting her weight.

"Wanna take a break?" He saw her shake her head. "We could check out upstairs if you want," he offered and the two of them grabbed new bags before hitting the steps. "You okay? You look a little pale."

"You sound like my mother," she joked, a dimple showing on her right cheek as she avoided his query. "I'll be alright. There's just a lot of memories in this place."

"Make sure you're taking time for the good as well." he said as he looked right seeing the master bedroom and left seeing the boy's room. "I'll go left. You holler if you need me, okay?"

Heaving a sigh and chalking the rumbling of her stomach to nerves she walked closer and closer to the bedroom. Stepping through the doorway was like walking through a portal into the past. Not a single beer bottle or can could be found and the bed, though unmade, wasn't covered in dirt, grime, or blood. Many nights after being gone late he would climb into bed in muddy or dirty clothes, boots and all, and his blood-stained face from the bar fights would stick to the pillowcases she changed daily.

But this room was almost untouched. 'Maybe he'd been so drunk he couldn't get up the stairs. Maybe he just lived in the lower part of the house.' Discarding the trash bag on the floor she sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room quietly for a few minutes before falling back against the soft blankets. Her bed was something she'd been missing. While the guest room at her parent's home was comfortable, it just wasn't her bed.

She couldn't keep the memories out no matter how hard she tried, and they began to flood into her mind behind her now closed eyes.

She could always tell when he wanted to have sex. He'd go three, maybe four days without drinking and he'd be home with the boys, laughing and playing like he used to before he'd turned into the wife-beater that he'd become. Because that's what he was she reminded herself, looking into the mirror as she got ready for bed those nights, running her finger over the healing scar under her eye, or the one along her arm, or any of the many fading bruises visible after the removal of her makeup. Those were the moments she waited for; the moments where he wasn't the violent and hot-tempered man he'd become, but the sweet, tender, and gentle man she'd married six years earlier.

He'd enter the bathroom behind her, his hands tracing the lines of her waist before pulling her back against his muscled frame. She'd catch his eyes in the mirror and see love and a hope of forgiveness in those blue depths. Those nights she wouldn't trade for anything in the world because on those nights, he was her husband again. He'd lead her to the bed and hold her close, his mouth and hands relaxing her tense body as she fell into the familiar sea of trust. He'd make love to her two, sometimes three times those nights, and no matter how tired she was, she would will herself not to fall asleep before him, to take whatever love he still had that wasn't locked away behind the alcohol and the self-loathing and claim it for herself. The longest was five days. Five days in a row filled with the family man during the day and the careful lover at night. This was a couple of months after the baseball bat incident, so apparently he thought he had a lot to make up for.

'This was two and a half months ago,' she thought as her left land settled over her stomach, knowing that was the time their newest had been conceived. A course of antibiotics were to blame, she'd figured out, knowing that she'd find her birth control in the bathroom medicine cabinet right where it was each morning when she took the little white pill before heading to school.

She felt the tears leak down her temples as she shook her head. That man was who she'd said goodbye to at the hospital, and in her memories that man would stay locked away forever.

…

Michael entered the boy's bedroom seeing a small car-shaped bed on the far side of the room and a crib on the other. The bed looked unkempt; the blankets were tossed about haphazardly and a brown teddy bear sitting on the blood-stained pillow. For a moment he felt anger rise up thinking that Jake had somehow been hurt worse by this man, but realization dawned on him that Rick must have been staying in this room, at least for a little while. His dirty boots were kicked off to the left of the doorway and a change of stained clothes were on the floor near the small open hamper.

Standing at the end of the bed on a tripod was a video camera, and on the floor by one of the spindly legs sat an empty bottle of whisky, the only bottle in the room. 'Looks like he mostly drank downstairs.' He set the trash bag on the changing table to his right and moved farther into the room. The video camera intrigued him, and he unhooked it from its spot on the tripod and opened the video viewer on the side. It was digital, so as it booted up he fumbled through them menus until he came across the memory card storage.

Several files were dated within the last week, but everything before that seemed to be spaced out sporadically. It was clear they'd had the camera for several years, so he turned the volume down, peeking at the door with a slightly guilty look on his face, and pushed play on the last video on the list, recorded two days ago.

Rick's face was the majority of the image, the man looking haggard with sunken eyes and about a week's worth of stubble on his face. His cheeks were wet as if he'd been crying, and a large open cut on his left cheekbone bled slightly, the tears grabbing and streaking blood down into his facial hair.

"Well, it's been three weeks. You're not coming back." A pause, "I mean, I figured you wouldn't. Why would you?"

There was a long pause as he pulled the camera away from his face. The image showed that he was sitting on Jake's bed leaning against the wall. His voice wasn't slurring, which struck Michael as odd. He must not have been drunk while filming this particular video.

"I miss you. I mean…I know I'm shitty – I know I'm a piece of shit. I know I didn't deserve you. But – but I didn't think you'd really leave, you know? We had some good times, didn't we? Wasn't that enough to offset the bad shit?"

'No.' Vaughn frowned, almost speaking out loud over the quietly playing video.

"I miss my boys too…Jakey and – and the little one. God…what is his name? Why – why can't I remember," he looked away from the camera for a clue in the room, and Michael realized that for almost the entirety of Noah's life his father had been an abusive drunk. The man in the video leaned down an reemerged with the unopened bottle of whisky, pulling it up against his chest. He sniffled and wiped at a tear before continuing.

"I don't want you to come back. I know that – that sounds weird, but I want you to stay away. I'm sorry for everything I did, you know? I don't remember everything, but I know I hurt you and I don't forgive myself for it."

Another pause as he picked at the seal on the bottle, pulling it off with deft fingers but leaving the lid intact. "I want you to do something for me, okay? I – I know I'm not…not in a place to ask any favors, but please hear me out. D-don't tell my boys who I am, okay?" He sobbed lightly, a fresh tear trekking down his left cheek and turning red with blood half way down. "Tell them anything else, okay? I mean…Jakey is only like…two. He won't remember me. And Noah is a baby…he won't – won't remember who I am. Just…please, Syd. Tell them I – I died driving a fucking race car or something. Or - or that I went on a damn safari and got eaten by lions or some shit. Don't tell them who – who I am now…that I'm the guy that fucked their lives up – fucked your life up."

The crackling of the lid snapping open, Michael watched as Rick lifted the bottle up and downed almost half in the first few swigs. He felt the burning in his throat and stomach even if Rick didn't, amazed that someone could drink that much hard liquor without his body just rejecting it outright.

"My friend and I are going to have one last night of partying," he said after a burp holding up the bottle into the frame as 'his friend', "then I'm gonna sober up and move on with everything. I don't wanna see you or the boys again – and I know you don't wanna see - see me. So…ummm…" A hand moved in front of the lens and blocked his face as his fingers fumbled for the record button.

The video ended and as he looked at the date again he realized that was the night of the accident – the phone call the next morning to Sydney coming from the hospital where he lay in traction. He'd polished off the entire bottle of whisky before jumping behind the wheel of his car and slamming into the bridge down road going nearly seventy miles per hour.

He closed the view screen on the camera and turned it off, flipping it around until he found the memory card slot. Pulling the card out he slipped it into his pocket to give to her later, maybe when they got back to New York. Rising, placing the camera back onto the tripod, he made his way slowly and quietly out of the bedroom. The carpet padded his steps as he walked the hallway to the master bedroom and spotted her lying on the bed, her legs folded at the knee and hanging off the end. Her hand was resting on her stomach and tears had been falling from her eyes and soaking into the comforter beneath her head.

Michael leaned against the frame of the door feeling somewhat hesitant at disturbing her. While the look on her face certainly wasn't happy, it definitely wasn't upset or angry. Maybe she was trying to dwell in the good memories like he'd suggested earlier.

The rumble of her stomach seemed to cease for the moment so she sat up and wiped at her face before she stood and moved to the closet and tossed the doors wide. The dirty hamper was about half filled with their mixed clothes and a strong whiff of his cologne assaulted her nose.

A bout of queasiness hit and should couldn't push it back. Stumbling across to the bathroom with a hand over her mouth she didn't quite make it to the toilet as she lost her nearly empty stomach into the sink. "Shit," she grumbled as her knees wobbled, her hands clutching the counter in a vain attempt at keeping her upright. Her stomach lurched once more and her knees buckled, and in that moment she felt a strong arm around her waist keep her from hitting the floor.

They stood like that for a few moments as she finished purging her mostly empty stomach, dry heaves settling in as she mentally cursed herself for not at least drinking something while they were cleaning. All the while, Vaughn's hand was splayed across her clenching stomach as he held her firmly upright against his chest, stomach, and thighs. She reached a shaky hand out to turn on the water and rinse the sink only to find the water also shut off.

"Let's call it a day." His voice was quiet and calm, reassuring, and he let go of her hair a moment to hand over a dry washcloth, his arm still wrapped around her waist making sure she was steady.

She nodded feeling as if all the energy had drained from her body in those few minutes. Peeking at the clock hanging on the wall to her left she noted that it seemed to be the only thing working in the whole house and it read 2:02. They'd been working for hours and had skipped lunch. Not that she was particularly hungry anyway, but she was now paying for the bad decision to not put something into her stomach. She attempted a step away from him on her own but her body wasn't ready to work quite yet. Fortunately he hadn't let go and pulled her back to his chest before she got too far.

"Sorry…I – I don't know-" she shut her teary eyes tight against the spinning of the room and let her head fall back against his shoulder drawing in a shaking breath as a sob came out.

"Let's sit for a minute, okay?" He wrapped his other arm around to act as a circle and slid his back against the smooth wall behind them. She folded willingly and ended up against his chest cradled between his legs on the tile.

She kept her eyes closed and her head against his shoulder as she took in deep and shaky breaths, sobs hurting her already tense stomach. She calmed after a few minutes, Michael's left hand rubbing her arm in small circles as his other arm was still wrapped around her stomach pulling her close to the warmth of his body.

"I'm sorry." His voice was a whisper.

"I – I wanna leave." That was her only answer as she pushed away from him trying to sit up. Reaching her hands out her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edges of the sink in an attempt to pull herself up. Without his hands pressing against her back she knew she wouldn't have made it, but she mentally forced herself to push the remaining queasiness down and force her legs to get her out of the room as fast as possible, the young man on her heels.

Stepping through the front door and onto the porch she gulped in several deep breaths and sunk to the top step of the small set of stairs leading from the walkway to the porch. She closed her eyes and let the sun hit her face to begin drying the tears. She felt him sit beside her.

In a shaky voice she mumbled, "thanks for being here." The moment was broken as her cell phone rang in her pocket. She pulled it out staring at the unknown number for a couple of rings, Michael took it from her hand and patted her on the shoulder before walking out toward the car.

"Is this Sydney Montgomery?"

"This is Michael Vaughn, Sydney's lawyer. How can I help you?"

"This is Angel of Mercy and I just wanted to let her know that Rick passed about an hour ago. Do you know if she is going to want to come in to claim the body for the funeral arrangements?"

"She will not be making those arrangements. Those responsibilities will fall to Mr. Montgomery's family. Thank you for calling and notifying us."

He turned back to look at her, finding her a few steps away walking toward him. "Was that…the umm -"

"Yeah. He…he passed about an hour ago." He saw her brain processing the data through the emotions that flickered across her features. Her eyes were distant and almost a dull brown, nothing of the resolved brilliance from this morning. "Let's go back to the hotel and relax for a bit."

"But we have so much to do," she groused gesturing back to the home. She flinched as Michael reached out and took her hand, not expecting his touch. He pulled her close and into a protective embrace.

"I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm sorry about everything," he whispered as at first she stood stiffly in his hug, but soon he felt her give in and sob against his shoulder, her hands wrapping around his waist and locking behind his back. One of his hands cupped the back of her head as the other rubbed the tense muscles of her lower back.

He swayed gently back and forth for a few minutes until he felt her heave a sigh. Pulling away slowly he cupped her cheeks and sent her a soft smile. "Everything's gonna be okay. I promise."

She nodded against his hands, her right hand coming up to rest over his for a moment until they fully broke apart. "I'm hungry," she mumbled, Michael laughing at the deft change of subject.

He led her to the car and opened the passenger door for her. Once she was settled her ran back into the house to close the front and back doors before jumping in and heading back to the hotel. The drive back was silent and he noticed about ten minutes in that she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep against her folded arm on the window.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he realized it was Sydney's and that he'd spaced giving it back. Seeing 'Mom' in bright flashing letters he answered.

"This is Michael."

"Oh, good, I'm glad you answered," Jack's voice rang in his ear. "How's everything going?"

"Umm…it could be better. We're in the car headed back to the hotel and we just got the call that Rick passed. Being at the house hit her pretty hard; I wasn't really expecting it to be so rough."

Jack nodded knowing the younger Vaughn couldn't see, "I thought it may be a bit difficult. Can I talk to her?"

"She's sleeping right now; want me to wake her up?"

"No – no. Let her sleep. Have her call me tonight, okay? Jake wanted to talk to her."

Michael nodded, "I'll have her call Jack. Anything else?"

"Oh, Laura wants to speak with you."

'Great…here comes another lecture.' "Sure, put her on."

He heard their voices for a moment, Jack explaining that Sydney was sleeping and they were headed back to the hotel, but that didn't seem to deter the mother from putting her voice through the earpiece.

"Michael?"

"Hi, Laura. How is everyone doing?"

"We're fine here. I just wanted to…to mention something to you while I've got you. If my daughter needs anything…I want you to handle it."

"I know, Laura. I'm handling as much as I can, but there are some things she needs to deal with on her own that we just can't help her with." Sydney shifted against the window, a small sign escaping her lips before she settled back into hopefully dreamless sleep.

"You remember what we talked about, right?"

'There it is.'

"Of course."

She paused, her voice breaking through once more. "Professional. You promised."

"One hundred percent."

"No matter how broken she gets…100%."

Michael sighed, stopping at the red light and looking over at the sleeping woman beside him folded like a small child in the seat. "It's nothing like that and it won't ever be – I gave you my word. I'm here as a lawyer first and a friend second."

"Good. Take care of her, and be careful." She hung up the receiver as Michael sighed and slipped her phone back into his breast pocket before pressing on to the hotel. Fatigue was settling into his shoulders as an air of depression clouded his mind.

'You're just here as a lawyer.' He resolved.

'But Rick died…she doesn't need you to help her get divorced any longer. Technically…she doesn't even really need to be regarded as a client from here on out.' His brain was trying to convince him of something, he wasn't sure what it was yet.

'But – I can't think of it that way. I'm here as her lawyer…I'm here to help her get things in order.'

'Sure. Is that why you're doubting everything you've said to Laura?'

'I was being honest. I don't want any kind of relationship other than a friendship with her daughter.'

He scoffed at himself knowing that simply wasn't the case. He was completely taken by Sydney Bristow and he knew it – he was just desperately trying to deny it because of how off-limits she was at the moment. Her bravery, her resolve, her smile, her laugh, her brokenness – it all made him want to hold her and make the bad things in the world go away until she was safe.

"You okay?" Her voice jolted him out of his daydream and he jumped slightly as the silence of the car was broken. He saw the apologetic smile she sent his way seeing that her eyes were a bit brighter than when they'd left the house.

"Yeah – sorry. Just lost in thought."

"Good thoughts?"

He wobbled his head back and forth with a grin, "some. You feeling okay?"

"Still hungry. Michael…I'm sorry that you're stuck here with me going through all of this crap. You don't have to be here – I know there's probably a million more important things for you to be doing this week. Why don't we just load up some big boxes and ship them home and fly back when we're done packing?"

"If that's what you want to do, I'm with you. I don't regret being here, you know? Your family and mine have been friends for ages and there's nothing we wouldn't do to help you out. It's not just a job for me, Sydney. I want to help. I want to make things right for you, you know? You're…family."

She squeezed his arm and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. "Enough depression…let's get an early dinner, watch a stupid movie on TV and then pass out on that mostly uncomfortable bed in my hotel room."

"Sounds so glamorous," he joked seeing her laugh. "I'm proud of you for today, Syd. I know it was hard to go through the house and see all the little things that bring up both the good memories and bad, but I want you to know that I just…I just admire the amount of strength you have in you at any given time."

She blushed and looked away. "I don't feel very strong," she admitted.

"You are stronger than anyone I've ever known. Now let's go eat bad hotel food and sleep for ten hours."

…

The only glow in the room was the television as it flashed images across a silent screen. The room still faintly smelled like the food from earlier, though the scent that washed up to his nose was from the soft perfume that Sydney spritzed on each morning. His position was a precarious one and he knew he was walking a thin line over a deep abyss, but he couldn't have left her alone earlier – she'd begged.

She began nodding off, her eyes drooping through long blinks.

"C'mon you; into bed," Michael ordered, grabbing the styrofoam containers and setting them onto the table. The clock read 4:15 but he was fairly sure that once she was out she'd be gone well into tomorrow.

The blankets were pulled up to her chin with care, but he wasn't expecting her hand to shoot out and catch his wrist. "Please stay…please? I – I don't want to be alone right now. If…if that's okay? Just – just 'til I fall asleep?"

He'd nodded and sat on the edge of the bed with her, her hand firmly held between his.

He didn't recall how he'd ended up lying next to her or how her body was so flush against his despite the blanket that acted as the barrier between them, but his arm was around behind her head and her breath was steady against his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he was both terrified and thrilled in the same moment. He'd lain that way for almost four hours, the clock nearing 9 p.m.

She shifted beside him, her breath changing as she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. He tilted his head down to look at her confused face. "Hey, you passed out just after we ate," 'and then I just crawled into bed with you.' His mind scolded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I – I didn't mean to-" she mumbled sleepily as she untangled herself from his arm and sat up, the blanket dropping down to pool around her waist. She set a hand to her flushed cheek realizing how intimate their position had been a moment ago.

"It's okay, Syd. You looked so comfortable I just didn't want to move you." The sound of her stomach growling broke the awkward pause between them and she turned to peer over at the clock, seeing that almost five hours had passed.

"Did – did you lay here the whole time?"

"I slept a little too." Michael lied and rose to stretch. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm actually hungry again," she admitted, Vaughn laughing.

"Name it."

She put in an order with him, surprising him with the last request: a half glass of red wine. "Hey – doc says I can have a half a glass once a week, so I'm calling it in. This is my once a week day."

He didn't argue and left the room with a smile. She sat back down on the edge of the bed as thoughts zipped through her mind, one being the conversation she'd had with her mother as she was packing a day or so ago.

"Be careful, okay sweetheart?"

"It's not like I'm going alone, mom."

"No…I know, but – that's…that's what I'm talking about." Laura closed the door of the bedroom behind her and stood facing her daughter with pleading eyes. "Just don't let your - emotions get the better of you."

Sydney stopped packing and turned to give her mother a confused look. "My emotions get the better of me? Like how?"

"You don't really know what you're walking into over there, Sydney, and the only person you'll have to ground you is Michael. I just don't…don't want to see you – you know…do something you'll regret."

Her brown eyes went wide, "are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

Laura's voice got defensive as she busied herself helping her daughter fold some of her clothes. "I'm not suggesting anything."

"Yes you are. You're really standing here telling me not to sleep with Michael Vaughn."

Laura blushed and chose to focus on folding the shirt in her hands instead of tossing her a reply. Sydney's sudden laughter made her stop and chance a glance, seeing the young woman fall back onto the large bed with a big smile. "You know mom, a good day is when I manage to cry less than a dozen times and spend less than half the waking hours throwing up. Trust me when I say that sex doesn't even top the list of a dozen things I need to get taken care of in my screwed up life."

A laugh passed from behind the lips of the elder Bristow woman and she let herself fall down next to her daughter, the two lying side by side. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm too overprotective, I know."

"That's a good thing, mom. It shows that you care. But seriously, no shenanigans, I promise. Sure Michael's gorgeous and kind and will pretty much do anything I ask," she left off seeing her mom's head whip around, relaxing only when seeing the joking gleam in Sydney's eyes. "Sometimes it's too easy, mom." The pillow hit her square in the face muffling her laughter as Laura rolled her eyes and left the room.

She hadn't thought of Michael in that way until her mom had brought it up. Now it dug at her a little bit more each moment they spent together, and it was certainly bubbling to the surface after waking up in his arms.

'Push it down; we don't need this right now. Rick just died and you know you're just looking for someone to help you get over that part of your life. You don't need a rebound guy, you need no guy. You literally don't need that in your life right now. Besides…how attracted to you could he be? You've thrown up in front of him a dozen times in the last few days, and cried all over everything he owns. You're not what he's looking for.' The "Laura Bristow" part of her brain, as she called it, was the logical and factual part that she tried to let loose as often as possible.

'How bad has it been though – spending time with a guy that didn't smack you around? It's been nice, hasn't it?' The "Jack Bristow", embrace your emotions and desires part of her brain kicked in a response. 'I mean, he's been there every step of the way, right? He doesn't seem to care that you throw up and he doesn't seem to care that you cry. In fact, he seems to want to make you feel better, doesn't he?'

The door lock whirred and the object of her thoughts came in with a smile. "Dinner is served!"

'Thank god. Maybe I can just eat and then call it a night. He'll go to his room and I'll stay here and tomorrow will be less emotional. That's probably it. I'm just emotionally drained right now and he's offering comfort. Don't look further into it, don't over analyze things. You're an emotional wreck right now and you're trying to cling to kindness.'

"Thanks," she sighed as he set the meal in front of her before blessedly moving to sit in the chair at the small table on the opposite side of the room. The glass of wine was delicious, and the turkey sandwich was hitting the spot as they ate quietly, the television still muted. The problem with her plan was that she was now suddenly and unexpectedly wide awake.

Her eyes were focused on the little pieces of turkey left behind in the cardboard and she poked at them with a finger. She chanced a glance his way seeing his eyes focusing hard on the rim of the glass, the brown liquid inside probably bourbon, their father's sipping drink of choice. He seemed to be following in Bill's footsteps in more ways than one. She swirled the last mouthful of wine past her teeth and set the glass onto the night stand.

Michael rose and packed up the trash, "man, I feel like I've been picking up trash all day," he joked, seeing a soft smile pass her lips. "What's next, Syd?"

She looked up, seeing him standing above her. Her heart fluttered for a moment before she pushed it back. "What?"

"Did you need something else? I can turn on a movie or something for you if you'd like," he offered seeing how dazed and out of it she was. There was a new gleam in her eyes and he couldn't quite figure out the emotion she was exuding other than confusion. "You okay?" A slight purple was seeping into the brown of her iris' and he found it fascinating.

Her cheeks looked flush instead of pale, the opposite from earlier in the day, and he absentmindedly reached out a hand and set the back against her cheek. The wince that closed her eyes for a moment hurt his heart. "I'm sorry…I – I'd never hurt you. You know that, right?" He checked for a temperature but realized that he didn't actually know if this was how you check for a temperature at all.

She pulled his hand down between hers with a sweet smile letting the ball of fingers drop to her lap. "I know, Michael, I'm sorry – I'm kind of out of it. Long day, you know?" She looked up at him with moist eyes, "you're a good friend. All my…shit that you put up with…"

"Look at that; half a glass of wine and your mouth turns sailor."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, Michael content to just stand next to her as she held his hand. "I'll tell you what I'd love," she mumbled looking back down at the blanket. "I'd love a hot bath."

"Deal. I'll fill the tub and then leave you to it."

Extracting himself from her side he moved to the bathroom, the rather large oval tub gleaming white in the brightly lit room. He cranked it to hot and hollered, "how hot do you want it?"

'That could be taken so many ways.' "The bath."

Sydney laughed as she pushed away the confusion and emotion, "you ever cooked a lobster?"

"Gotcha." Leaving it on hot he stepped back and let it fill a bit, dipping his hand into the water to make sure it wasn't scalding.

'You should go, you know. Before bath time.' He agreed with his thoughts for once, and as soon as the tub was half full he shut the water off.

"Alright, Syd, you're good to go. I'm – I'm gonna get on outta here, okay? If you need me you…know where to find me, alright?"

He was hollering as he stepped out of the bathroom nearly running into her as she stood just outside the door to his left, the yelling unnecessary. The smile on her face was light as he apologized.

"Thank you again, Michael. I know for a fact I couldn't have done today without you." She twined her fingers together over and over again as she broke their gaze to look at the odd colored shapes on the carpet of the hotel room.

His brain warned him not to get close – to bolt out that door and not come back, but he once again pushed it back arguing back that maybe she needed something else from him before he left. 'You remember what Laura said – anything she needs, it your job to provide.'

He reached his hand out and waited a moment until she responded with a smile and placed her fingers against his palm. She walked into him for a hug, her forehead pressing against his shoulder as she guided his arm around her waist. "You're the only thing that's kept me sane all day," she mumbled into his oxford as her hands moved up against his back and she breathed deep the scent of his cologne.

He pulled back a bit and cupped her cheek, seeing the purple in her eyes once more. He started to tell her again that she should give herself more credit, but he was cut off as she leaned up and pressed her lips against his. She was soft and tentative, completely unsure about everything at the moment, and that included this kiss. Responding slowly and gently, Michael kissed her back.

She broke away for a moment as her eyes reopened and she shook her head – the Laura Bristow brain kicking into gear and telling her to back off, that this wasn't the right way to get out her pent up emotions from the long hard day she'd just experienced. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breathy against his mouth. She didn't have much time to apologize however as Vaughn's hand pulled her back in and he pressed his mouth against hers once more.

She felt like she was floating – his kiss was slow and languid, his tongue flicking against her bottom lip for a moment before he pulled back. Their shaky breaths mingled between them, neither taking the risk of opening their eyes. They stood together in the foyer of the room, the steam of the bathtub making the mirror fog up and lick at them from just inside the doorway.

Michael cracked open his eyes seeing emotions flitting across her face and for a moment he thought he could convince himself to let her go and go to his own room. But as she opened her eyes and met his uncertain gaze her hands made their way down to his lower back as she stepped closer into the circle of his arms, bringing her body flush against his before stepping up and kissing him once more, a bit more insistently.

Michael's hands moved from around her shoulders down to her lower back and he felt a heat growing in his chest as her hands moved and deft fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt. His fingers tangled in her shoulder length hair as their mouths melded together. He couldn't hold in his small moan as her tongue slid against his and he could taste the wine she'd been drinking 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.

Kissing the spot between her shoulder and neck she focused on the remaining buttons of his shirt, tugging it out of its semi-tucked 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.

Vaughn 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 pulled away from.

"Sydney…we - we can't do this." He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, opening them as he felt her hands slip from his bare chest. "I'm sorry…I – I'm so sorry. I just-"

"No, it's my fault. I – I started it. I was…just feeling…" she left the end of the sentence off as she focused her eyes on his collarbone, unable to look him in the face as embarrassment and shame sunk into her chest. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, Michael opening his eyes and cupping her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears.

Stepping forward he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good night, Sydney. I'll see you in the morning." the whispered breath warm against her face, her closed eyes not seeing him leave as the door clicked in his wake.

…