Chapter 114: Cogitation

"Thinking is like loving and dying. Each of us must do it for himself." – Josiah Royce

"No matter where you go or what you do, you live your entire life within the confines of your head." – Terry Josephson

"Whatever the mind has the capacity to imagine, it also has the ability to create." – Anon.

"The problem is never how to get new, innovative thoughts into your mind, but how to get old one's out!" – Dee Hock

"Nothing is more dangerous than an idea, when it is the only idea we have." – Emile Chartier

"To think too long about doing a thing often becomes its undoing." – Eva Young

Sydney went back to the living room to do something, anything, to keep her mind off of what Barnett had told her, but she found that no matter what she tried, she couldn't concentrate.

Eventually, she gave up all together and went back to the bedroom. Vaughn was resting in an exhausted sleep; she doubted much would wake him at this point. Yet, she didn't want to chance it, so she sat in the chair next to the bed instead of sitting on the bed with him.

She stared at him for a long time, watching his chest rise and fall, his facial muscles twitching slightly. It was calming to watch him sleep like this, but that didn't stop the thoughts from coming.

'Should I tell him? He has every right to know...was that a good idea though? What would be better? To know that you were going to be left alone to be "broken" in therapy or to not know and then have it sprung on you minutes before it was supposed to go down. Neither scenario was inviting: if she told him, he'd have to deal with it until Friday. What would that do to him? Would he have nightmares? Would he stop sleeping? Eating? Would he be distant? Resentful of her because she was allowing it to happen? Would he get angrier? Would he lash out? Or would he take it in that eerily calm manner he got sometimes? The manner that scared her...would the fear consume him to the point of illness and pain? Would they have a similar night like the one that ended with his sedation? God, his mother was coming tomorrow...what was she supposed to do?'

'If she didn't tell him and just informed him that she wasn't going to be there right before the session, was that better? She could almost imagine the look on his face – fear, apprehension, disgust, pain, betrayal...would he hate her even more because she had known and hadn't told him? Could she live with not telling him? Could she really do that? Would he get angry then? Would he lash out when his mother was there? What would his mother think?'

'Which option would cause him the least distress? Would their relationship change if she failed to tell him? Their relationship was based on trust and honesty. How would he trust her again if she didn't tell him something this important? She couldn't NOT tell him; it would just be cruel – like making him endure torture all over again. No, she had to tell him, but when? Should she wait until Friday? Until his mother was there?'

She sighed, trying to stop the endless thoughts. His road had been difficult enough, and it was only just beginning. The torture was like the start of a mile-long race, and he'd only gone the first few meters. Many more lay ahead. "The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself," Sydney remembered that from a song once.

She understood that Barnett was right, he needed to let his walls down, and she understood that Barnett needed to use her to get him there, even though she hated that it had to be she that was being used. Would he forgive her for being party to this? For making his race veer off on a new and terrifying path?

He had talked to her in the beginning and after particularly bad nightmares, but even she had to admit he wasn't very forthcoming with information on what happened to him. She knew more than anyone else, but it still wasn't enough. He needed to get it out but the pain and the anger and the hurt were all going to be on the surface again and without the walls, he was going to be forced to deal with it. She hoped that dealing with it didn't break him completely.

He stirred in his sleep, bringing her out of her thoughts for a moment. She smiled at his form, looking at him with a look full of love and adoration. She couldn't explain to anyone all the ways she loved him. She loved his strength and resilience, his stubbornness and his ability to calm situations. Even if now it was slightly different because their roles were changed, she could always see sparks of all those things. He'd survived torture, torture beyond anything she'd ever experienced to date, torture that would kill 'normal' people in a matter of days. He'd survived it for close to a month. A whole month of torture that she knew little about. She admired him beyond what she ever thought possible. She never loved anyone so completely; she loved everything about the man. She smiled as she thought: easy on the eyes; great in bed; that sexy, dimpled smile; those jade fires as they bore into her very soul; his lithe, athletic body...she had to stop with all the physical attributes because she was getting warm, but there was plenty more to love. His heart, his soul, his ability to love her through all of her unsavory and stubborn moments, to fall in love with the daughter of the person who took his father from him. His sense of humor, his love of hockey, his loyalty to his job, his country, his friends, family, to her. His intelligence and ability to think on his feet (or off, she mused). His structure, yet his spontaneity, his cool under fire, his defiance and will, his vulnerability, his ability to follow the rules yet completely throw them out the window; usually when it came to her. His commitment, his sweetness, his ability to stand up to her and tell her off...God, she loved him...his love, his love...his love...

She hadn't realized, but she'd been crying silently for a few minutes. She wiped at the tears, falling faster when flashes of what had been done to him, what had happened since, passed through her mind. She hiccupped, trying to stop herself from falling apart. She couldn't stop the flow though. She looked over at him and his eyes burned into hers. She stopped when she saw him awake, a small gasp leaving her throat.

"Syd?" he asked.

She smiled, shaking her head, trying to tell him that she was ok but she couldn't make the words come out.

"Sydney..." he said confused. 'What the hell was going on? He'd been asleep only to wake to find Sydney bawling in the chair? This couldn't be good...what had happened in the time he'd been asleep?'

"Sydney," he said again, "What's wrong? What happened?" he asked softly.

She shook her head again waving her hand.

Vaughn didn't know what was wrong, but he couldn't let her sit there, "Sydney...come here," he said holding out his hand to her.

She moved quickly and took his hand, lying down with him and burrowing her head into his good shoulder and into his neck. She sobbed quietly and then more loudly, her body racked with soft heaves.

He didn't have the words to know what to say, plus he had no clue what was going on, and she couldn't tell him what was wrong at the moment. He settled for quiet "Shh's" and "it's ok's." He rubbed her back, trying to calm her. Eventually, the sobs and heaves lessened and he just held her tightly. He could feel her breath evening out against his neck. He looked down to find that she was sleeping. He tightened his grip and she burrowed further, holding onto him just as tightly.

He had no idea what had just happened, but he was happy that he could comfort her. It had been a while and he liked knowing that he could still provide that for her.

Eventually, he drifted off again as well and when he woke; he had no clue how long they'd slept. Sydney was still locked in his embrace but the bedroom door was closed and if he listened carefully, he could hear the TV murmuring softly. Will and Francie must have been home. He strained to look at the clock, careful not to wake Sydney. It was almost 6:00; they'd slept for a little over two hours.

Sydney stirred slowly, snuggling into him. He smiled, loving the feel of her doing that. She could incite so many emotions in him. She could make him crazy with want, so bad that it hurt sometimes. She could make him forget everything but her. She could calm him with a touch or a glance; yet completely infuriate him in the next second. She could be stubborn and difficult yet sweet and accepting, giving and caring, tough and tenacious. She could kick just about anyone's ass, his included, yet by her touch with him, you'd never know. She was guarded yet open, completely honest yet kind, beautiful and sexy as hell but adorable. And she chose him; it still amazed him. He smiled at the thought, but it faded when other thoughts began to creep in. What had happened? Why was she crying? Was Barnett right – maybe what she said was true. That though absolutely terrified him; he never wanted to hurt Sydney and if this whole thing was going to end up hurting her, he'd stop it now. He'd go back to the hospital if that would help her, if that was the way it had to be, he'd do it. He loved her too much to hurt her that way. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he caused her anguish. He'd known from soon after they met that he'd do anything for her; whatever it took, even death if she called or asked for it. Hell, even if she didn't. If Barnett was correct, and Sydney was concealing anger and frustration, if this was unhealthy for her...he had to know.

He felt Sydney waking and unconsciously tightened his grip. When she woke, he'd ask, and if the answer was what he feared most, it might be the last time he held her for a while. She nuzzled his neck and her hand moved from his chest to his stomach, rubbing in light circles. He pressed a kiss into her hair and she turned to look up at him.

Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed, but she was smiling at him.

He managed a smile back, but his fear was already rising, "You ok?" he asked softly.

She nodded, "You?"

"Mmmhmm..." he said as he stroked her hair. She was silent for a while, just watching him. He stopped the stroking and looked down at her seriously. He asked softly, "Am I hurting you?"

"What?" she asked in disbelief, but then she realized, "No Vaughn, that's not it."

"I want an answer and I want you to be honest Sydney. No trying to make me feel better. I want the truth Sydney because if I am, if any of this is hurting you, I'm going back."

Sydney looked at him, amazed at his candor. She could tell he was completely serious. She knew all too well how terrifying the hospital experience was, but he was willing to go back if it meant her safety and health. She almost started to cry again; she could see the love all over his face. And she loved him even more.

She moved up and took his face between both of her hands and kissed him fully. She kept her hands where they were and said in an equally determined tone, "Michael, I love you more than anything else. You're not going ANYWHERE. You've never hurt me yet and you're not going to either. Yes, I get angry, yes I get frustrated sometimes but I love you and I want you here. I want to take care of you. I don't know what else or how else to say it. When you woke up and I was crying, I was crying because I was thinking about how wonderful you are and how much I love you. I was crying because I was thinking about how hard this is for you, for YOU Michael. There is no way what I handle measures what you do. I love you," she said and then added more slowly, accentuating, "I. Love. You. Ok?"

He was at a loss for words. She was smiling broadly at his lack of speech and he finally said, "My God Sydney, I love you too."

She smiled, kissing him again numerous times until they both deepened the kiss, both sharing the same breath.

Sydney backed off slightly, "Thank you for holding me."

He smiled proudly, "You're welcome. It's nice to be needed. Usually, lately, it's been the other way around, it was nice for me too..."

"Vaughn, I need you so much it's not even funny."

"No shit, Syd," he said smiling.

Sydney smiled for a minute and then the smile left her face, "I need to talk to you about something else..."