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Sorry for the sadness, neptunestar, AnnaSun, liz, IamVulcanLady, and Caz. Hopefully this chapter will end up a little happier for you. Thanks for reviewing! … I'm not intentionally trying to kill you, valley-girl2! Honest. Here's a long chapter to make up for it. And there's a chance that there might eventually be a sequel. As always, thanks for your amazingly long and always wonderful responses… Wow, equisetum, I cannot believe you sat and read through the whole thing. It always amazes me whenever someone says that. Thanks for taking the time to review… Haha! Thanks lightning bug! It was fun…
Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed throughout the story. You guys are the best!
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Chapter 12: Truth Born of Darkness
Not a word was spoken during the entire ride home. Stoplights greeted with silence, whether red or green; turns taken as they were and nothing more; the radio left on, blaring the nightly news only because neither of them thought to turn it off or change the station. It was fitting though; filled the silence, spoke of the sadness, made them realize that what had happened to them wasn't half as bad as all the crap going on in the world around them.
The key turning in the lock, the door squeaking open, almost too loud for their ears, a whisper in the silence becoming as charged and powerful as thunder. He ushered her inside, following in her footsteps as they scuffled across the floor.
Vaughn had shed his suit jacket long ago; it was probably still crumpled up in the backseat of the car and would remain there until Sydney found it and brought it in. His loosened tie now came over his head, thrown aside and landing in some forgotten corner; the top buttons of his shirt quickly coming undone and sleeves rolled up, as his shoes were kicked off and stockinged feet pattered their way into the kitchen.
Sydney disappeared into their bedroom, wanting more than anything to get out of her work clothes, jacket and shirt coming off halfway down the hall, something Vaughn would have usually enjoyed watching. When she appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, clad in her usual tank top and sweat pants, even those simple pieces of fabric clinging to her so perfectly, Vaughn couldn't help but let his eyes linger on her form, his mind reeling with the realization that they were finally alone.
But somehow that thought wasn't as comforting as he would have liked it to be.
He offered her his glass of wine, not pouring one for her simply because he knew that if she wanted any, the second glass would have been superfluous; they always shared. But she shook her head, pushing it gently away. Vaughn moved to pour another one, thinking that her refusal was due to her still not quite feeling well and not wanting to get him sick, but she went to the freezer instead, digging a forgotten pint of ice cream out from the back and grabbing a spoon.
"Want some?" she asked quietly, the words echoing strangely through the room; the first either of them had spoken since leaving the CIA building.
She brought the spoon up to his mouth. Vaughn held her wrist steady as he licked the ice cream she offered him, savoring its sweet flavor, but relishing even more the woman who was holding the spoon, her beautiful face, her deep eyes…
"It's good," he murmured as she pulled away the spoon. It was all he could think to say, knew that he had to continue conversation, bring an end to the silence.
"Mmm," she agreed, taking a spoonful and nodding, smiling, even, as she swallowed the sweet dessert. "My favorite."
He already knew that. Had known even before she had moved in with him, catching her side comment during one of their briefings in the frozen food section of a nearby grocery store. He had bought a pint that day, replacing it every time he had finished it, loving it as he knew she did, smiling shyly at her look of surprise when they had finally gotten together, when she had moved in with him and found it in his freezer…
But that was beside the point right now…
"Syd…"
She knew what he was going to say, and cut him off before he had a chance to finish. "So we're off until Monday, huh?"
It should have been a simple question, but he could sense the Let's not talk about it now that floated in its shadow, naively decided to concede to her unspoken request and nod.
He draped an arm around her, leading her down the hall and into the bedroom, stopping as she offered him another spoonful. Smiling and tweaking her nose when she pulled the spoon away, sighing with relief as she smiled back.
"It'll be nice."
"Yes," she agreed, the word hissing out as she sat down on the bed and took another bite of the ice cream. She closed her eyes and sighed, a hint of a smile curving the corners of her lips. "If heaven had a taste, this would be it."
"Yeah?" Vaughn asked, grinning as he knelt on the bed next to her, intent on making the moment less awkward, more peaceful, as it had been before; just the two of them, together, alone, barely able to keep their hands off each other until...
Sydney tilted her head up to face him, her affirmative reply lost as his lips captured hers, the mixture of chocolate and passion overwhelming, electrifying; the melting ice cream nearly spilling from her hand as she lost her way in him once again, wishing she could never find her way out.
"No…" she breathed as she pulled away, her free hand running through his hair, across his neck and coming to rest on his cheek. "That would be it."
He kissed her once more, softly this time, before leaning back and pulling her further into his arms. He could feel her breath against him, her heart beating in her chest. Everything had been so perfect before now. Just the two of them living together… it was all they had needed, more than they had ever dared to hope for. They had never had to talk before, not like this, not about anything personal and important.
With a whisper, he tried again, "Syd…"
She stiffened in his arms, that and her silence causing him to tense up as well, making him realize what they were doing. She had rolled the dice and they were playing the game. The game they had played months ago, where everything was okaybutnotreally, that had lapsed for weeks on end without the finish ever coming into sight. The game he thought they had left behind, had decided never to pick up again, had never wanted to even think about…
But he could see that they must've been playing for hours now, days; each second ticking toolong toolong toolong. Every time she hadn't told him what was wrong, every time he had let her partial answers satiate him. Force of habit had made them pick up the pieces again, dusting off the game board and tattered rulebook, and taking up right where they had left off…
The rules came flashing across his mind simultaneously with the thought of the game itself, with the realization, the remembrance; each of them finding their proper slot in his memory bank, trying to numb his heart and brain.
They had both been stellar players, memorizing all the rules right from the beginning, rules that had been dictated and shaped by the hazy boundary between danger and safety, molded from protocol itself. They should have been able to make it through the board without a mistake, knew the rules as if they had been playing together all their lives.
Would have and could have. If they hadn't given up, given in…
The basis of play had lain in truth, but it hadn't been true; not honest, not real. Instead, it had been about the manipulation and hiding of truth, of keeping it locked safely and possessively away as if both their lives had depended on it, knowing that in reality, they had.
Words, phrases, sentences were jumbled, meanings skewed so they could fit the stringent guidelines, the real ones kept secret, never shared. Thoughts were never spoken, never given breath, because they would have held the truth. True thoughts were not allowed, must never pass from mind to lips, never even make their existence known.
But most important of all, repeated at the end, the beginning, and thousands of times in between just for good measure; the one rule to remember if either of them had forgotten all the others, to scratch into their brains hundreds of times a day with rusted nails and twisted fragments of red-hot metal:
There is no emotion… Hide it, eat it, swallow it, poison it, step on it, smother it, beat it, shoot it, hang it from the rafters… Do anything and everything but show it. Never admit it exists.
They had both known that rule. Memorized it before all the others, repeated it before, during and after every meeting, had never let it leave the forefront of their minds…
He would accidentally touch her arm, had been handing her some files and managed to brush up against her even though it had been the last thing he had wanted to do, even though he had been trying harder than anything not to make contact, not to touch her.
She would pretend that the gasp that had escaped her lips was due to the pain of a recent mission. Would roll up her sleeve to show him the bruise, big and purple and blue and ugly; out of place, marring the smooth creaminess of the rest of her arm.
He would swallow, tricking himself into thinking that the sight of her skin didn't, never could, would affect him, apologize, and ask, in a voice so low and full of concern that it almost-but-not-quite broke all the rules, if she was all right.
They would both imagine that question had pertained solely to the wound. Physical, job-affecting pain only, never anything else. Strictly business. She would nod and thank him, a contradiction since they both knew the real answer, despite the rules and barriers, both knew what she had been screaming inside.
No. Help. I hurt. I need you.
Both had silently pretended not to. The words had never really been spoken. It had been easy as pie.
Pretending was something that each had thought they had left behind as children, growing out of it just as they grew out of their old clothes, packed away with toys that they would never again play with, dreams that they had once hoped to aspire to and now knew they never would.
But imagination, fantasy, the world of make believe had been part of the game, not stated as such in the rules, but still there. Put on each morning along with their suits, carried with them in their minds instead of briefcases, loathed as it had never been when they were younger, more innocent, untouched by the world.
There had been no castles or talking animals in this world of pretend; no happy endings when the prince was forever denied his princess.
It had been easier to tell himself that he was pretending even though he knew that was not exactly what it had been. It had been easier to forgive himself for pretending than for lying, or at least he had thought it would have been, but…
Eventually, he had found a way to bend the rules, so slightly, so subconsciously that he did not even realize it had been done. It had just seemed to fit, to become part of the game…
Cloaked Amazing in a sentence that pertained to her work, the mission. Not her alone as he wished he could have said it, but still carrying that meaning, still understood by both of them.
It hadn't truly been breaking the rules…Shrouded a hidden meaning under the three syllables in Be Careful, the two words fitting nicely over I Can't Lose You. Not Now. Not Ever, would have hidden them completely if he hadn't accidentally left a corner uncovered, if he had noticed it in time to smooth it down, hadn't let the unspoken words fill his eyes.
He had followed the rules. The emotion had been hidden. Honest…Swathed his heart in a simple statement: Good Luck in London… Athens… Shanghai… Córdoba… Dar es Salaam… It hadn't been his fault that if the words were said in just the right tone, with just the right amount of breath, that they could take on a much deeper meaning, that they carried so much more for both of them.
He hadn't broken the rules, simply adjusted them, tweaked them just enough to straddle the gap between what he wanted to say and what he could, what was allowed and what was not, reason and passion, truth and lies…
And he had thought he had perfected it, thought he had gotten it just right.
Until he had awoken with a start early one morning, breathing labored, catching in his throat, sweat clinging to every inch of his skin. Awakened from a dream, eyes wide, completely conscious. He had seen the heavy darkness outside the window, felt his heart pounding against his ribcage, read the brightly lit numbers on the clock.
He had really and truly been awake.
But… why had he still been falling?
Falling, plunging, descending, plummeting… Further and further and further down with each passing second; as the numbers on the clock had clicked forward; 2:45, 2:46, 2:47… Falling ever faster the more he had tried to snap himself awake, the further his eyes had opened.
And he had known in a moment what this unfamiliar abyss had been, why as much as he had scrambled against the walls he had only slipped down further, why there had been no way out, why he had already fallen so far down…
He was falling in love, had been for awhile, was even now, at this exact moment, somehow slipping a little further with every second of each passing day, just when he thought that he could see the bottom, that there was nowhere else, no further he could go.
But he had persuaded himself that he could remain professional, that he could hold up protocol by reviewing the rules of the game, ticking each one off on his fingers over and over, until the sun had peeked into his windows and the alarm clock had blared its good morning.
Not realizing until he had gone to work later that day, that he had twisted the rules into something barely recognizable, had bent them so far out of shape that everyone had noticed, that it had gotten both him and somehow Weiss in trouble, had almost brought an end to his career.
And he had scrambled to put the rulebook back together the way it had been when he had first received it. But the pages hadn't been numbered; he couldn't get them back in the right order. Yes passing to no, right mixing with wrong, ifs and ands and whats and ises pointing in all the wrong directions, leading to places where they hadn't before, coming from beginnings that didn't make sense, charging to ends that used to be middles, and…
Suddenly everything had been profoundly screwed up, thoughts and words and feelings splattered all over where they shouldn't have been, where nothing should have been if he had followed the rules, if he hadn't let himself feel.
But he had. Even though it had been against the rules.
And then he had found himself in the warehouse with Sydney.
She had been crying.
They had been alone.
And for the life of him, he hadn't been able to remember the rules. They had slowly slipped away, forgotten words on a page that never should have existed anyway. Sliding out of existence as his shoes scraped across the concrete floor, a hand on the shoulder became a hug, and…
That had been the end of it, the end of him. He hadn't cared that he had lost the game, even if that had meant pulling her out with him. Emotion had sprung forth, surging straight from his heart in droves, all that had been bottled up for the past months, for as long as he could remember.
One last, lingering part of his mind had screamed with horror, shrieking that it wasn't allowed, couldn't happen, that there was no emotion, couldn't be. A howl had echoed through the vacant walls of the self-storage facility.
He had broken the rules.
And he hadn't cared.
The shouting had been useless, reason beaten to the ground by emotions, the sheer flooding force of all of them intermingled… anger pounding on sadness, flooding guilt, looming over satisfaction, smothering fear, burning into love…
All of them too much for anything to hold up against.
With reason gone, lying in a bruised and bloody heap on the cold concrete floor, the conflicting emotions had begun to wrestle amongst each other, as Michael Vaughn's lips had finally claimed Sydney Bristow's once and for all…
These thoughts flickering through his head in an instant, the remembrance of it nearly painful until he got to the end. And despite everything that had happened and even those things that hadn't, he almost found himself playing the game again, picking up the dice and taking his turn. Almost parted his lips and let Do You Want to Go Away Somewhere for the Weekend? hide the truth, take the place of…
"You miss him already, don't you Syd?"
The question probably could have stood rhetorically, since they both knew the answer, didn't need to be spoken at all. But it served to open them up to what neither wanted to discuss, both knew deep down that they had to. That sometimes unspoken thoughts could be precarious, could be laced with doubt, fear and other poisons of the mind. For them, for now, the truth was in thoughts that were put into words, actions, emotions.
Sydney's eyes found his; for a moment, he thought he saw pain flickering there, thought that maybe she had been expecting him to play the game, that he should have, just this once, just to ease the pain, make it better. Just for a little while. Just this once…
But if just this once had multiplied, changing its wording to became two and three and four and five… Justthisonce and always once more, serving to excuse them from ever discussing anything important, kept them playing the game forever…
He knew he wouldn't be able to stand it, didn't want to have to try, didn't want this to break away into another game. One even worse than the first because protocol wasn't the barrier this time, wasn't what would have kept them apart.
Fear would have taken its place, and doubt, and anything else the little monsters of reason could find and dig up, use as evidence to convince him that whatever his heart told him was not true, that she didn't really… wouldn't want to… didn't lo…
"Yeah."
The one word sighing out of her, hissing with relief. The mixture of sounds telling Vaughn that she hadn't wanted to play the game, had realized just as he did what they had been doing; and that it had scared her too, more than anything. That it made her wish she were stronger, better somehow, that she had the strength of a spy all the time, was never vulnerable.
She had her own little demons lurking within her that warped reason to deny whatever her heart told her, that filled her with fear too, were still bitter that they had lost the battle to emotion all those days and weeks and months ago…
Sydney put the ice cream container down on the nightstand, clicking off the lamp before pulling back into his arms. This might have seemed a strange action to anyone else, but Vaughn understood it.
The warm light from the hallway fell through the door and pooling over them, just enough so that he could still see the thoughts and feelings playing in her eyes, not too much to scare away the truth. Its cozy glow wrapped around them, enveloping the two of them together in its lacy fingers, sighing in the black of night.
"Don't worry about him, Syd," Vaughn murmured into her hair, allaying her unspoken fears. "He'll be fine."
"I know." Softly, a whisper barely strong enough to be heard. But it had been. And it was the truth. Those two murmured words were further than they had gotten to the truth in awhile, led them closer to the light through the darkness.
"He's with his grandmother now. His family."
Vaughn didn't add the real that echoed through his head, knew that it was reverberating in her own ears as well as if it had really been spoken. He didn't want to make this any more painful than it had to be, wished it were already over, that they had never had to have it in the first place.
"I know," she repeated, this time somehow stronger than the first although her voice wasn't any louder. "It's better for him."
He nodded in agreement, glad that she had made that point, actually voiced it. Glad for her sake and for his own that she actually believed what she had said. He could tell by the way she said it; with the two of them together, veiled in darkness, it couldn't be anything but the truth.
"And now I'll have you all to myself." Kissing the side of her head as he said it, hoping that his tone would relieve the tension, would make her feel better. Knowing that even though they were spoken in jest, the words themselves weren't a joke, that he was looking forward to this mini vacation, just the two of them…
He could just make out her faint, almost sad smile, knew that he would do whatever it took to erase the sadness from it, to see the laughter gleaming from deep within her eyes, the windows to her heart and soul.
"Vaughn?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had trickled its way between them. "Do you miss him?"
"Yes."
The way he said it, the quickness of it, the way his eyes flashed and his forehead wrinkled, they both knew it was the truth. But they both knew that it was not the night for thoughts alone. And simply knowing couldn't have stopped her next question.
"Really?"
He nodded, kissing the top of her head gently. "I guess I… kind of got used to having the little guy around." An understatement, but still the truth. He knew that he should add to it, especially tonight, especially for her. Tell her that… "I never thought I'd get used to it, you know? But…" There had been something about having those little arms around his neck, tiny fingers grabbing his own, the pitter patter of his feet, and… "The way he said my name…"
"Bahn," she whispered, her soft voice caught in the precarious space between tears and laughter, unsure which path to take, maintaining the shaky balance with her next sentence, as her fingers found their way to his of their own accord. "I should call you that."
A hint of laughter rumbled in his chest at the thought of it, warming the both of him. "Bahn," he repeated, letting the murmur echo through the darkness before adding, "Bahn and Tyd."
He didn't need to see her smile to know that it was there, or had been, at least, flickering across her features before being swallowed by the shadows. She tightened her grip on his fingers so lightly that he barely felt it, seemed to sense it instead as his hand squeezed hers in return.
"Vaughn… Thank you." A shuddering breath separated his name from the rest of the sentence, her tone much more soft and serious than it had been before, a sigh escaping with the words.
Two months, two weeks, two days, two minutes ago those words would have stood for everything, would have been left alone. But not tonight. Not now. Not in the dark. Not when they had been so used to knowing each other's thoughts that they had almost forgotten to speak, had almost been drawn into silence.
She could never lie to him, nor him to her. Not after what they had been through. Not when the truth meant so much, almost more than anything else, everything else all jumbled together.
"For what, Syd?"
He didn't understand why she kept thanking him, had to be sure, had to have a definite answer. Maybe that would be the key to what was bothering her, what had been bothering her even before they had had to give up Ilya. He knew they weren't playing the game anymore, never wanted to play again.
"Everything."
The simplest, most honest answer that she could give. And the fact that it matched his thoughts soothed away some of the doubt, as she snuggled closer to him, sighing.
"You don't need to thank me."
Sydney pulled away, looking into his eyes, could see them glimmering even in the darkness, the love and compassion that refused to be quenched even when they argued. And that elicited her next response, made her gratitude seem all the more necessary.
"Yes I do."
She tried to look away this time, to avert her eyes, to let them find temporary shelter just outside the dark window, on the bedspread, across the wall. But a gentle hand was under her chin, pointing her face in his direction, his fingers not leaving her skin even when she complied and gazed into his eyes.
"Why?"
He wasn't going to try to read her thoughts now, wanted to hear her words, to be sure, sure of everything. There were times when thoughts flew between the two of them better than words could, but this was not one of them.
"Because…" She paused, seeming to understand the importance of words at this moment and searching for just the right ones, unable to find anything poetic, eloquent, right and finally just whispering softly. "Not everyone would do the things that you do for me."
A pause, racing with thoughts that couldn't truly be heard, pregnant with silence, broken only by their soft breaths, the swishing of cloth as Sydney's foot moved against the blankets, the slamming of an apartment door from down the hall.
A pause that lasted only a millisecond, if that, even though it seemed to reverberate forever. Because his answer was almost immediate, the only response he could or would ever want to make, the first thing that sprung from his heart, nearly tripping up all the rational thoughts stewing through his mind in its mad dash to free itself from his lips.
"Sydney, I love you."
And somehow that one sentence served both as a declaration and explanation, his tone matching them both perfectly, linking them in a way that no one else would have been able to, but seemed right coming from him. Perfect.
She would have told him that she loved him too, would have shouted it from the rooftops. But her lips were drawn up to his, powerless to resist their force, and she wouldn't have wanted to even if she could. It was all right, though. In this instance, thought combining with action worked perfectly to tell him how she felt; for this, words weren't necessary.
"Syd," he murmured, keeping his hands on her cheeks even as they pulled apart. "I would do anything for you…"
Suddenly he realized the direction his heart was pulling him in, where his words would lead next, almost subconsciously, almost without his knowledge. But he wouldn't have wanted it any other way, was glad that he would be within his own power when he said it this time, fully aware of what he was doing, waiting, wanting to do this more than anything in the world.
"… I want to do everything for you…"
Sydney's heart skipped a beat at his words. She could barely breathe, was almost dying for him to finish, for him to give her a chance to truly answer, hoping more than anything that this was for real, that he wouldn't fall back asleep this time. He had done so much for her, and now…
Squealing to a halt. Every other thought, word, action catching on that one as it skidded across her mind. Everything colliding in an insane jumble of letters and sounds and pieces, hissing and steaming. Nothing making sense anymore, too mangled to be coherent. Except that one thought that had escaped unscathed…
Because that was just it. He had done so much for her already. So many things that she hadn't even asked him to, hadn't wanted to worry him with, and…
She would have said yes.
God, she would have said yes without a second thought and never would have regretted it for as long as she lived, never should have had to regret it... But she would have somehow felt guilty, as if she had roped him into yet something else, another unwanted mission, another trip around the game board.
"Vaughn…"
He stopped immediately, the words ramming into each other just as Sydney's thoughts had moments before, catching in his throat as something barely recognizable: a cough, a stutter, a sneeze…
myouawillrsydrmey…
Barely recognizable now, tangled words and fragments and letters; but it had been there. Just as it had been dancing on the tip of his tongue earlier at the Ops Center. Just as it had escaped from the confines of his mind in the height of delirium.
The truth had been there too, living in fever and insanity just as it did in darkness. He did have the ring all picked out. Hadn't bought it yet, the lurking shadows of fear and doubt and whatif and itstoosoon wouldn't allow for that. But he knew which one he wanted, which one was perfectly her; had had it picked out since the day he had kissed her, and had resolved to buy it each and every day since she had moved in with him, but…
Noticing how the fear had once again seeped into every single one of her features, each inch of skin, how she looked almost ready to be sick. Worry filling his eyes and wrinkling his forehead, doubt surging forward once more, laughing gleefully and creeping past its borders, trespassing on where it knew it shouldn't have been.
"Syd, baby. What's wrong?"
This time, a pause so long that there would have been time for a nearly interminable amount of breaths. If either of them had thought to breathe, had the courage to gulp in even the smallest amount of air.
"There's something I have to tell you first."
It might change everything and it might not. It would definitely change something, had to. Might even make him want to eat his words, make him glad that she hadn't given him the chance to…
"What is it?" His voice was soft as cotton, wrapping around her in a comforting web, sighing through the darkness, edged with fear, concern, honesty, adoration…
"Vaughn…" It was easier to start the sentence with his name, to let that one familiar and cherished word pour from her lips before all the others did, smoothing the way. Her fingers tiptoed along his arm in the dark, brushing lightly against his skin. "I… I…"
But still her words stumbled, tripped and collided with each other; finding the pathway to her lips not quite so smooth after all, derailing somewhere on the way to her voice box and unable to pull themselves back onto the track.
Fighting to incite other emotions, knowing she had never faltered to speak out in anger, trying and failing to completely lose herself in happiness, excitement, anything… But it didn't work. She didn't understand why she couldn't tell him, why she hadn't been able to each and every one of the other times she had wanted to, every moment of every day since…
"Baby, what's wrong?" Please, please, please… He pulled her into his arms again, tightening them around her, his lips brushing against whatever patch of skin they found first. He hoped beyond anything that she would open up to him, didn't know why they had to play by the rules now.
But even his tenderly spoken words couldn't drag it out of her, no matter how hard she tried to force them, how badly she wanted to just open her mouth and scream it to the heavens, tell him that…
"Can we just stay home tomorrow?"
The words were not the ones she wanted, the change of subject beyond her control. She couldn't manage the fear that had its chains tight around her, nearly strangling her with blinding frenzy and fury. The fear that he wouldn't respond the way she knew he would, the doubt that she would speak and wake to find that all this wasn't real, that they were still in the warehouse, still on a mission, still playing the game.
"You don't want to do anything? Go anywhere?"
She could sense the hint of disappointment prowling through his words, was sorry that she had been the one to let it loose from its cage. Finding his hand in the darkness, she grasped it tightly, squeezing his fingers in apology, silently asking for just a few more minutes, a few more seconds for her to…
"No… I just want to be here… with you."
And there wasn't any part of that that was a lie. It was all she really wanted, to stay in his arms forever. Too bad that's not all there was to it, that conversation couldn't have stopped there and made everything all right.
"Okay," Vaughn murmured, offering her a smile that she couldn't see. "Anything you want, Syd."
She smiled, tilting her face up to his. He could just make out her dimples in the dark, and that alone was almost enough to erase all of this and fling him into happiness, only the soft way she spoke keeping him grounded.
"Thanks."
"We're on vacation," he responded, letting her buy her time; trying to convince himself that this wasn't playing the game, not really, that he could feel the truth floating around them, knew it had to land eventually.
So he pulled her closer, even though it seemed nearly impossible, brought her hand to his lips and kissed each one of her knuckles. "We have nothing to do for three whole days," be paused there, tacking on his next word almost as an afterthought, because maybe not all was right with this yet, maybe they still needed to talk about... "Syd?"
"Hmm?"
"Come here."
An odd command perhaps, since she was already in his arms, couldn't get any closer if she tried. But she knew what he wanted, knew that to comply with his request she had to pull away from him, to sit beside him on the bed so she could twist around and look into his eyes.
"It was…" Vaughn's hands came up to frame her face, as he searched for the right words, his thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. "It was nice to have a family with you… Even if it was only for a little while."
Without even knowing it, he had brought her to the precipice, showing her with tender words and soft caresses which way was the safest. Sydney followed his lead and jumped, arms outstretched, eyes closed, not knowing when she opened them, why she was surprised to find that she had landed in his arms.
"Michael…"She didn't pause or stutter this time; somehow it fell from her lips so naturally, as if it had been there all along. It was the first time she had ever called him by his first name, and that alone was enough to snap his eyes to hers, to make him melt on the spot, no questions asked. It made him afraid to move, breathe, blink; afraid that if his heart beat too fast, too slow, too loudly, not loud enough, those two syllables would fade out of existence, its echo would no longer linger in the air.
Luckily, Vaughn didn't need to speak. Sydney's soft voice melted away all of the fear and doubt within him, his penetrating eyes soothing away her own. Lost in each other, neither of them noticed that the tattered rulebook had been lured from under the bed, disappearing as it tried to escape through the window; neither of them even remembered what the rules of the game had been.
"… Actually, I… We…"
Vaughn had thought that her saying his name had been enough, more than he could ever ask for. But coupled with her next breath, her next few words, the shy almost scared smile that lit up her face as she glanced downward, and he was gone. His face lighting up for just a moment before his lips were ravishing hers, a gentle hand placed carefully on her stomach in wonder and awe.
"… You're going to be a daddy."
~~~
The End