In The Air Tonight, Part 13
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Michael Vaughn watched the stoic, unreadable Jack Bristow as he turned on his heel and marched from the room and out of sight. While others might find him as mystifying as the Sphinx, Michael had deciphered at least one part of the man's psyche: In his own weird way, Jack loved Sydney and would do literally anything to protect her from harm.
At times, his love had taken the bizarre forms of framing another agent from SD-6 to conceal her deception (who was then executed), killing another CIA agent at point blank range (granted, he was a traitor and a weasel), exposing his daughter to Project Christmas, and wiring a building in Madagascar with explosives to "prove" the traitorous nature of (read: frame) Irina Derevko. In Jack's mind, Vaughn realized, when it came to Sydney, any means were justified if the end result was saving her from harm.
And while Vaughn wasn't about to go around blowing other agents' heads off, he wasn't exactly a choirboy when it came to the subject of Sydney Bristow, either. In the two years he'd known her, he'd infiltrated SD-6 at great personal risk, broken into the Vatican archives, stolen priceless artifacts from a museum, broken her out of FBI custody at gunpoint, aided and abetted a fugitive, and accompanied her on many missions not sanctioned by the CIA, and some that were against their direct orders…all so he could ensure Sydney's safety. He'd even gone so far as to personally face his father's murderer, just so Sydney wouldn't have to.
Vaughn couldn't completely suppress a shudder when he thought of his first face-to-face meeting with Irina Derevko. Out of necessity, over the last year Vaughn had developed a thick skin and a poker face to match for his dealings with the woman who was only genetically Sydney's mother; but that first time…he'd been unprepared. He hadn't been ready to handle the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him at the sight of her: the slow, catlike way that she walked; the sultry, serpentine timbre of her voice; her uncanny ability to worm under his defenses to lay bare his worst fears. He still had nightmares about her blasé parting shot at the end of that first encounter, "You look just like him…"
He'd wished he'd been able to ask her about the details of his father's death: why she'd done it, what information did he have that she needed, and most importantly… how much had he suffered before she killed him? But he would never give Irina the satisfaction of knowing how badly he wanted to know the truth. Irina Derevko was a woman (loosely defined) who thrived from discerning people's deepest, most secret insecurities and using that knowledge to her advantage.
While Irina Derevko's methods and ability to outwit her enemies were truly astounding, usually it was quite clear that Irina only did what would best benefit herself…with one puzzling exception: her mercurial attitude toward her only child.
She'd shot Sydney in the shoulder in Taipei, but then killed her own associate in order to save Sydney in Barcelona. She'd stolen and erased the DNA intel on the second genetic double, but then provided the intel to the CIA so as to save Will Tippin's life. She'd sent the CIA on a wild goose chase to Zurich that allowed for the capture of the Dereno heart—as well as Jack Bristow—but then given them reliable intel about Sark's whereabouts in Sweden, allowing for the rescue of Sydney's father. When it came to Sydney, Irina's motives became enigmatic.
Shaking his head to clear the troubling path his thoughts were taking, Vaughn realized suddenly that he was wasting the precious little time he would have with Sydney tonight. Pulling up the burnt orange Naugahyde chair to the edge of Sydney's bedside, he eased himself into it, his eyes never leaving her.
Bathed only in the stark white lighting filtering through the window from the hallway, Sydney appeared so white, small and fragile…like a china doll. Vaughn tried to remind himself of all the times Sydney had proven to be much tougher than she appeared, but still he had to blink back tears. This evening was all so…surreal. It couldn't be true…how could it be true? But it was. His precious Sydney, whom only hours before had been, happy, lively, and vivacious, now fought for her life in a sparse, clinical hospital room.
With a bittersweet smile, Vaughn reached up with his bandaged left hand and softly brushed a lock of hair off Sydney's forehead, tucking it safely behind her ear as she'd done so many times before. Then he trailed his hand down her arm until he cradled her limp hand is his. Slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth across the soft skin on the back of her hand, he lifted their intertwined hands to his mouth and whispered kisses on her soft skin and then gently lowered them back to the bed.
"Sydney…" Michael began, but had to stop and clear his voice. His throat was so clogged with emotion he could barely speak. "Sydney… I don't know if you can hear me. I hope to God you can… Because I need to tell you something—something important." Vaughn paused, but then forced himself to continue.
"I was going to tell you this weekend…on the beach…or maybe over a taco at La Super-Rica, I don't know." Vaughn ran an impatient hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. "I've felt this way forever, but I wanted my telling you to be special, something to remember. But now I realize that it was stupid of me to wait. I realize that I should have told you a long time ago."
Vaughn paused, trying to blink away more tears, but these wouldn't be held back. "I…love you, Sydney. I think I've loved you since that very first day: neon red hair, swollen jaw and all." A sad smile touched the edges of his mouth at the memory. "At first, I was in awe of your strength, your determination, your ability to persevere. As I got to know you and the bitterness left from losing Danny subsided, I found so many other things to love: your incredibly brilliant mind, your beautiful smile, your gentle, softer side that refused to compartmentalize, your devotion to those you loved."
"I fell for you so hard and so fast, I wasn't even aware it had happened. I tried to fight it. I told myself all sorts of lies to make myself believe it wasn't what I wanted, but that only made me want you more. Even though deep down, I knew I couldn't lie to myself anymore, I told myself for the longest time I couldn't, wouldn't let it show. I would not allow emotion to cloud my judgment when it came to you…because I knew that if the CIA found out, they would remove me from your case. I'd tried that; and it was two weeks of utter hell. I mean, knowing you're out on missions and knowing the dangers you would face was always bad enough, but the not knowing was even worse."
Vaughn swallowed the lump forming in his throat and continued. "When…when you started confiding in me, calling me your 'guardian angel', I felt so incredibly proud to have some place in your life, to be able to help you in some way. I wanted so desperately…you can't know how desperately…to be a real part of your life instead of always hiding in the shadows, unable to even look at you in public."
"I had always hoped, but never believed, that you could eventually see me as something more than your handler, your confidant. That day I first saw you after you had gotten the antidote that saved my life, that was the first time that I knew…knew you felt something for me. Whether you know it or not, it was that moment that gave me the strength to tell you how I felt. When you admitted you felt the same…I was in heaven…and hell. I felt so damned guilty about being happy because of what had to happen to you in order for us to meet…"
"God, Sydney," he sighed wearily, "we've been through so much. You are such an incredible woman. And I am so incredibly lucky to know you. Yet, I've taken the time I've shared with you for granted; a mistake I will never make again. You are my everything, Sydney," Vaughn whispered fervently. "You are my life. You were the missing piece that I never knew existed until we met. Now, I can never go back… I never want to go back. No matter what lies before us, it'll be all right as long as you're here with me. Please come back to me. Please be all right… I want to have the chance to say this all over again."
Looking down at their joined hands, he sighed. "I would like nothing more than to sit here for the hours, days, or weeks it might take for you to come back. I would like nothing more than to be the very first thing you see when you awaken…but I can't. As much as I loathe it, I know that your father is right. I can't just sit here and ignore the world when that bastard Sloane is out there somewhere. Your father believes the new device might hurt you in some way. I am going to try to prevent that."
"But know this…" Vaughn shook Sydney's hand slightly with emphasis, "as long as I live and breathe, I will love you and do everything in my power to protect you. I know that, were you awake, you probably wouldn't believe me. That's all right. I pray that I will have the rest of our lives to prove it to you."
Vaughn stood, and bending over her, placed a soft kiss on Sydney's forehead and then brushed her lips with his own. Straightening up, he wiped away the wetness from his cheeks. Suddenly, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Instantly he knew why. Without even turning around, he said, "All right, Jack… I know you can hear me… You can come in now."