Title: How They Got To Happily Ever After

Chapter: 1

A/N: Mostly fluff for what will probably be my last Alias fanfiction. (Obviously, I don't own anything associated with Alias.)

…

How They Got To Happily Ever After

I hadn't believed in happily ever after since Danny died. The day he was murdered, I dismissed the whole idea of happily ever after as a product of naiveté. I decided life was just something to get through; a struggle punctuated by moments of happiness.

It wasn't like I hadn't had happy moments since Daddy died. There were a lot—my first kiss with Vaughn, his proposal, Isabelle's birth. But every time I let myself believe that maybe happily ever after was attainable, someone I loved would disappear or die or be gunned down in front of me.

When my mother fell through that glass and I fell into Vaughn's reassuring body, the thought slipped into my mind once more: maybe I really could get to happily ever after. It's strange that on the day I lost both of my parents, I gained so much more.

…

I felt every second of the flight home from Hong Kong. Usually, those flights would go by in what seemed like minutes. I focused on writing debriefs, rehashing the mission again and again, dissecting it until I knew exactly what I could do better next time, since there was always a next time. But after everything that had happened that week, I couldn't just break that mission down into pieces to analyze. It meant so much more than the sum of its parts.

I also knew that no one expected me to write a debrief. All I had to do was make it home—to our home, where our daughter would be, where the three of us could get started. I curled up next to Vaughn, my head on his chest, listening to every heartbeat. The trip was almost wordless. Every hour or so, he asked me how I was doing, and then he pulled me a little bit closer.

Toward the end of the flight, I sat up and looked into his eyes, which were somehow more probing than usual. Stifling a sob, I leaned in and kissed him, over and over again. They weren't sexual kisses; they were desperate, searching, messy. I wanted him to comfort me without saying a word. I wanted to be sure he understood the tumult going on inside my head. And he did, because he put his hands on my neck, and kissed me back with equal force.

Eventually my head collapsed against his shoulders, and my tears soaked through his shirt. All I could think about was that my dad was gone, and that he had died so that I could sit on this plane and kiss my fiancé, think about my baby girl, and wonder who was going to walk me down the aisle.

When the plane landed in Los Angeles, I looked at him and uttered my first complete sentence of the entire flight: "Vaughn, can we get married now?"

He smiled. "I can't think of anything that sounds better."

…

That weekend, everyone we loved assembled in our backyard for the wedding they'd never thought they'd get to attend. And I couldn't blame them for having their doubts: in the last seven years, Vaughn and I had each disappeared, contracted almost incurable illnesses, tried to move on (and failed), and ostensibly died. But that day, we were both very alive, feeling emotions that don't have names because they're just too complicated.

I wore a short, white sundress; Vaughn wore khakis and a light blue shirt. It wasn't the wedding I'd dreamed of as a teenager—no long, flowing gown, no bridesmaids, no church. I wouldn't have had it any other way. Everything about the physical setting mirrored my relationship with Vaughn: its essence was enough to make it work.

As I walked down the short aisle, Dixon's arm wrapped around mine, I surveyed the group of people who had joined us, pausing for a moment to smile at Will and his fiancée. I called him the day we got back to tell him that the thing I said about Vaughn not being alive wasn't exactly true. They flew out here the next day. When I called, he told me he'd gotten official permission to leave the witness protection program. He'd worried his fiancée might leave him when she learned that Jonah was a lie, that his real name was Will, and that he'd recently had a bomb implanted in his skull. But she didn't leave, and because she didn't, I knew I approved.

He sat there holding her hand, looking more relaxed and happier than I'd seen him since before he knew I worked for the C.I.A. Still, I couldn't help but be reminded of my former life when I looked at Will; I couldn't let myself forget that I used to be this grad student who thought I would marry Danny and spend the weekends with Francie, Charlie, and Will. I couldn't let myself forget that I would never have gotten to marry the love of my life—the one who stood a few feet away, grinning, and most definitely checking me out—if the other one hadn't been killed.

I looked back toward our friends. Weiss sat in the front row, and I wondered if he'd be able to stay and visit for a couple of days. Either way, I was glad that he'd dropped everything (including meetings with two senators) to be here on such short notice. When I thanked him for doing that later, he said, "I had a choice between meeting with two geriatrics on the Hill or flying out to LA to watch you and Vaughn finally get married. And see pigs fly. That was really the tipping point, the pigs. The senators can wait."

I noticed Rachel sitting next to Dixon's kids—both of whom were smart and incredibly charming—and hoped I could be just half the parent Dixon must be to have raised them both by himself. I saw that Marshall's hand was resting on Carrie's knee, since both of her hands were busy cradling Isabelle. I didn't know it at the time, but she was already pregnant with number two. Mitchell sat next to Marshall, who kept turning his head from me to his mother and back to me.

Looking out on all my friends, I thought about the fact that almost everyone who was there today had suffered enormously because of Sloane or Irina or Rambaldi. A couple of years ago, I would have blamed myself for this. It's because they knew me, I used to think. But now, after all that's happened this year, I don't think that's true anymore. There is just a lot of bad in the world, and hopefully because of the people in this backyard, there is a little bit less now.

I was almost at the end off the aisle. Just a few more steps until I'd finally become Mrs. Sydney Bristow-Vaughn—it's a mouthful, I know, but I couldn't drop the 'Bristow' and I needed the 'Vaughn.' Dixon kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Sydney, I'm proud of you." I smiled back, but I already knew.

Most people rank their child's birth as the happiest moment of their life. But what came after "You may kiss the bride" was far and away the best moment of mine. After all, I already had a beautiful daughter. What I didn't have was someone who had promised to take care of me and protect me—not because I wasn't capable, but because sometimes I just wanted to let my guard down. What I didn't have was Vaughn. After all this time, I only wanted and needed him more than I did when it all started. So when he leaned in to kiss me—softly at first, and then deeper, like he was just then realizing exactly what this moment meant—it felt like putting the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle in its place.

The reception was on the patio. The boys barbecued. We drank beer instead of champagne. I never thought I'd eat ribs or a hot dog at my wedding, but they tasted better than the most expensive fancy food I'd ever had.

The atmosphere was perfect, too. Dixon's kids chased Mitchell around the backyard. We listened to the Beach Boys and Jimmy Buffet. All of our friends kept hugging us and telling embarrassing stories. Will brought up more than a couple college anecdotes I'd hoped would never be mentioned again.

"Remember that squirrel? The one you were so scared of?" he said loudly.

"I was not scared," I replied.

"Just imagine Sydney, sprinting across the quad to get away from it," he continued.

"I was definitely not sprinting!"

"She said it wanted her lunch or something. Francie and I looked it up once: sciurophobia, a fear of squirrels."

"I do not have a fear of squirrels!" I insisted. I glanced at Vaughn, who was laughing so hard he almost choked on his Budweiser.

Weiss shared a few embarrassing Vaughn stories, too. "Remember that time you almost got in a fight with that 14-year-old kid sitting in front of us at the Kings game?" he announced.

"Fourteen? He was at least 18!" Vaughn insisted.

"He was wearing a shirt from some junior high! His dad was sitting next to him!"

Weiss kept teasing Vaughn, and I laughed until my stomach hurt. In fact, every time someone told one of those silly stories, we'd all laugh, almost to tears. Which is why I could never tell if I kept crying because I was so happy or because I was still so sad. The thing was, I just missed my dad. It would have been so much fun to see him there, drinking a beer and laughing with my friends. I had already seen him starting to change; I knew he would have lightened up and enjoyed my wedding day. But it hurt to imagine him there—the wound from his death was still so raw, yet there I was being so happy.

After an hour or so of the best barbecue I'd ever been to, Weiss tapped his fork against his beer bottle.

"All right, all right everyone. As the groom's best friend, that makes me the toast giver, so bear with me," he began.

I wondered for a moment if he'd given a toast at Vaughn and Lauren's wedding, but somehow I was sure he hadn't. Weiss was a pretty honest guy. I doubted that he would stand up in front of all of his friends and say he was happy for the bride and groom.

Weiss continued: "I've known this guy a long time. Back before Sydney was even in the picture, we were, I don't know, bosom buddies. That's an expression, right? My point is, I know how his mind works, and that's how I knew right from the beginning that they'd get married. This is going to sound a little strange—then again, I already said 'bosom buddies' so how much more feminine can I make this speech?—but I think Sydney just makes him a better person. He doesn't take himself too seriously when they're together. And when he was without her, and I say this with all due respect, he was kind of an asshole—a jerk," he added, when he noticed Carrie's hands covering Mitchell's ears.

"What I didn't know," Weiss said, "was how much sh—, um, stuff, they'd have to go through to get to this day… I don't think anyone could have imagined…" Vaughn, whose arm was draped around my shoulders, squeezed my upper arm. "The truth is, I can't think of any two people in the world who deserve to be together more than these two, or who care about each other more than these two. A lot of couples break up because, I don't know, someone forgets to put the toilet seat down or calls up an ex-girlfriend or something. These guys have literally been to Hell and back, but still, here we are," he said, pausing to wipe beneath his eyes. "Allergies, really. I'm not used to these L.A. plants anymore… I guess I should mention that there are a lot of people who should be here today and aren't. Syd, I knew your sister pretty well before everything happened. We used to talk about you and Vaughn a lot. You know, as much as we teased you two for being dull and boring—which I maintain that you are—both of us recognized that you guys had it pretty good. She was looking forward to this wedding…"

I managed a smile even though my lip had started to quiver. Of course I knew Nadia would have been proud of me, but hearing it from Weiss, who she'd been so close to, it meant a lot. He continued: "I don't deal well with loss—part of the reason I moved to DC, to be honest. But you two, Sydney and Vaughn, have dealt with more loss than anyone I know, and I have to say I think you're so good at it because you have each other. Maybe one day I'll meet some girl in a red wig and she'll make me a better person, too..."

I turned toward Vaughn, who was nodding at Weiss. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was lean in and kiss Vaughn, and for some reason I felt like I shouldn't. It took me a second to remember that this was our wedding day, he was my husband, and everyone here knew it. I had nothing to hide, for once. I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He rubbed my upper arm and smiled just enough to let me know he appreciated my kiss.

Weiss raised his bottle. "Anyway, I'd like to propose a congratulatory toast to the bride and groom. It's about damn time!" Everyone laughed, and we kissed again as our friends clapped and cheered. This getting married thing was pretty fun.

"Thanks for that, Weiss," I said when he walked over and kissed me on the cheek.

"It's all true, Syd."

…

I'm probably going to write more if anyone wants me to. Thanks for reading, and please review!