The Roads We Walk
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Vaughn/Sydney, Vaughn/Lauren
Summary: There was the prize, and there was the game. In the beginning, in the end, he discarded them both.
Disclaimer: Alias does not belong to me. No profit is being made.
***
“I have an instinct.”
-Michael Vaughn, Truth Be Told (Episode 1, Season 1), Alias
***
I.
The third time that the waiter offered Lauren more wine, Vaughn had the distinct feeling that a large vein on his temple was throbbing violently. “Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re leering at, and stop interrupting our dinner or I’ll shoot you with my CIA-issued handgun!” he wanted to say, but instead fought to keep a placid smile on his face. He must’ve been out of practice though, or underestimated Lauren, because she saw right through his thin façade.
“Honey,” she said, reaching across the table to place a hand over his own, “you’re looking quite stressed. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, then widened it in an attempt to make it genuine. “It’s just that Donovan has been cranky for some reason, and he kept me up half the night yesterday. I even put him outside, but then he started howling and one of the neighbors started banging on my door…” Vaughn sighed. “It was a long night.”
“Poor baby,” Lauren said. “He’s probably just starved for attention with you at work so much these days. Dogs are a lot like humans, you know.”
He frowned at her answer. “You said you’ve never owned a dog.”
“I haven’t. But I know a lot of people who do,” she said with a soft laugh. “What’s with the interrogation, Michael? I thought you agreed to leave work where it belongs for tonight. In case you missed it, your dog isn’t the only one who’s been missing you.” Lauren stroked his hand lightly, and a shiver went up his spine. “Maybe I should stay at your place tonight, make sure you get a good night’s rest…” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Are you volunteering to keep Donovan company?”
“That’s not what I had in mind.” Vaughn watched as a small pout formed on her lips, and wondered if she did it purposely or if it was unintentional. “Why did you call him that, anyway? It seems like such a somber name for such a happy animal.”
“What would you have called him, then?” Vaughn countered reflexively.
“Lassie.”
“Donovan’s male. And that’s a horrible name.”
“Only to the unromantic.”
“How is Lassie romantic?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed dramatically. “I have bad taste, obviously. I’m with you, aren’t I?” He stayed silent. “Oh, don’t be like that; you know I’m only joking. But honestly, what made you choose Donovan?”
Vaughn shrugged, feeling irrationally uncomfortable with the question. It wasn’t incredibly personal, after all, and he’d shared far more. “It was the name of the pet store,” he said finally. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“If we end up getting married and having kids, remind me not to let you name them,” Lauren said playfully.
As much as her words bothered him, he was glad that she was smiling and joking again. It meant that he was acting normal. “If it was a girl, what would you name her?” he asked suddenly, perhaps too suddenly, judging from the startled look on Lauren’s face, the laughter slowly sliding off her face like shiny foam.
“Elisa,” she replied after a moment of studying him. “For my great-grandmother. What brought this on-“
“If it was a girl, I’d call her Julia,” he said, pulling his hand away from her grasp. “After an old friend. She was very important to me, even though she was… from a different world.” Vaughn searched Lauren’s eyes for some sort of understanding, or recognition-anything to prove what he knew was true.
“What happened to her?”
“She’s lost now.”
***
II.
It was the first of many times, years and days and minutes separating them, but he still remembered the first like it was yesterday.
He was nine years old, he was young, and he learnt how to lie.
Back then he’d been friends with a boy called David, and although there weren’t any photos Vaughn knew that at one time, when they were nine years old, they’d shared identical toothy grins that held too many secrets.
David had a mother and a younger sister, but they both had fair hair and fair skin while his was dark. David’s mother would only let her son call her “Susan”, but Vaughn never knew why.
Vaughn could remember being there one day, Susan cooing about how smart he was to receive an “A” in math, and a shadow falling across her face when David returned from the bathroom. Susan looked at him as if he were a smudge in the picture of her perfect living room, something that needed to be erased. She excused herself-to make a phone call, to check on lunch, to get away-soon after. Vaughn remembered how she turned to him, her neighbor’s son, and asked him to watch her darling daughter.
“Eh,” David shrugged. “Less responsibility for me,” and then David threw a baseball at Vaughn, letting him know the subject was to be forgotten.
The entire ten minutes Susan was gone, a pit of unease began to mount in the bottom of Vaughn’s stomach. Perhaps it was because playing catch indoors was strictly forbidden, and Vaughn, like his father, always followed the rules. Or perhaps it was because he was breaking his promise, and leaving David’s two-year-old sister unattended.
He could see her from the corner of his eyes at times, curiously silent, as he swiveled in a throw, or darted to receive the ball. Mostly it was just a glimpse of her pale blonde hair, the pigtails shining in the sunlight, but once she looked up at him, and he stood frozen for a moment, staring at the hazel eyes that seemed too old for her face. It was only the sound of a vase breaking that pulled him away.
“Crap!” David hissed as they both stared at the broken pieces of the antique vase that Susan loved, scattered across the floor. “Susan said if I did anything wrong this week, she wouldn’t take me to see Dad. She said he worked too hard to see what a failure I am…”
Vaughn watched his friend hurriedly hide the baseball in the cupboard, panic etched across his face. David was only allowed to see his father once a month, and Vaughn knew how much it meant to him.
“Don’t worry,” he promised. “It’ll be okay.”
At that moment Susan ran back into the room, caught sight of the broken vase, the flowers they used to hold… and her daughter who had wandered over to the mess of porcelain and petals. “What did you do?” She turned a furious eye onto David as she pulled the little girl into her protective embrace. “You could have seriously hurt her! Why are you so selfish, David?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” David protested nervously.
“Don’t you lie to me, young man.” Susan glared at him, then muttered under her breath loud enough for all of them to hear, “how you two could share a father is beyond me.”
“It really wasn’t his fault,” Vaughn cut in quickly. “I saw the whole thing, ma’am. I tried to stop her, but I wasn’t fast enough. It was Julia. She did it.”
Susan stared at him suspiciously. “Julia broke my vase?”
“It was an accident,” he said, and he looked straight into her eyes, kept his gaze steady. It’s my job to tell who is lying, his father had told him. Unless they’ve been doing it for years, most liars can’t look you in the eye. For Vaughn, weaving a truth into the lie made it easier.
“I can pay for it, if you want,” he offered. “I mean, I don’t have much money, but I can save up. Or borrow some…” Vaughn knew that his friend was safe when Susan started to smiled with amusement.
“No, it’s all right. I’m just glad you’re all safe.” She shifted Julia in her arms, but the girl was staring at Vaughn, her eyes those of a woman accusing and betrayed. “You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you, baby?” Susan cooed before making her way to the door. She paused there, and Vaughn waited for her to apologize to David, but she never did. “I’m going to put Julia to bed for her nap, then I’ll come back to clean this.”
Beside him, David let out a sharp breath when Susan had gone. “That was a close one. Let’s play something else, Mike.”
Vaughn shook his head, his stomach still churning at the thought of baby Julia’s eyes.
“I don’t feel like playing anything else,” he said.
Besides, he’d already lost once today. The game: catch.
***
III.
He had a hangover the first time he saw Lauren, and most likely the first time Lauren saw him. It probably didn’t make a difference to her either way.
“Vaughn,” Weiss said appearing at his desk one overly bright day. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Not interested.”
“Don’t be so dismissive. I’m doing you a favor,” Weiss said. “You’re doing me a favor. I’m supposed to be taking her on a mini-tour today, but I have a meeting with Kendall. Actually,” Weiss paused, “I’m doing her a favor too, since I saw her eyeballing you earlier. Guess she likes them scruffy.”
“Find someone else. I’m not doing it.”
“Hey buddy, whose couch were you sleeping on last night? Who held your hair back when you vomited, if you had long hair? That’s right-me. So it’s safe to say that you can take fifteen minutes of your time well spent doing nothing, and show this incredibly gorgeous woman around, right?”
Vaughn sighed. “Fine. But-“
“Great,” Weiss said quickly, then raised a hand to motion someone over. “Here she is now.”
She was pretty, Vaughn grudgingly admitted to himself. If it weren’t for Sydney, he would find this woman very attractive, with her long blonde hair, petite body and full lips.
“Lauren, meet Michael Vaughn,” Weiss said when she finally stood in front of his desk. “He’ll be showing you around. Vaughn, this is Lauren Reed. She’s from the NSC. And now I’m going to see if I still have a job. Have fun kids.” And with that, he waved them goodbye.
“He’s quite a character,” Lauren said as they watched Weiss leave, weaving through the maze of desks before ducking down the hallway that led to Kendall’s office. Vaughn knew that route well, had walked it many times in the months following Sydney’s death.
“It’s surprisingly quiet here; I’d imagine it to be much more hustle-bustle,” Lauren commented when Vaughn stayed silent, leaving an awkwardness between them. “Since there’s no one here yet, and I’m spending most of today observing, do you mind if we got a cup of coffee until there’s something substantial to watch?”
In the past he’d always been caught off-guard when a beautiful woman spoke to him, unsure and looking over his shoulder to see if there was someone else there. The only thing that caught him off-guard with Lauren was how shy and yet approachable she seemed, a combination that was surprisingly appealing, and immediately sent a wave of revulsion down his throat. The sting of his own weakness and betrayal made his tone sharp.
“Sorry, I’m busy.”
“Oh, she said, and he watched as an embarrassed flush spread across her cheeks, contrasting with her pale skin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. If you’ve work to do, I’m perfectly capable of showing myself around. It does, after all, look quite a lot like the NSC offices,” she quirked a smile in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “And the bank I worked at before that.”
Vaughn nodded, and noticed dispassionately as her face fell, as if she’d expected him to refuse her solution, be a perfect gentleman and rebuke her offer as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. She’d been expecting someone else.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, and returned to his desk without waiting for a reply. If she’d said something, he didn’t hear it.
Afterwards, when he was sitting alone on the kitchen floor, between the fourth vodka shot and seventh swig of wine, he realized hat she must’ve been a spy, sent so her superiors could gloat about their victory over him, over him losing Sydney, who’d been with them, waiting for him to rescue her all along.
***
IV.
The candlelight flickering in her eyes made them change color, from the deepest blue-green to a murky brown. Then back.
“This is our anniversary,” she said, confusion marring her face as she looked at him. There was also hurt there, love too, and pleading, all of them twisted into a brilliant mask that did not crack, but he saw right through it. He saw the enemy, he saw the Covenant, he saw all the people he needed to destroy, all the people who would burn-
But then it was Sydney sitting with him, her eyes aglow with candlelight; Lauren tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear-brown and glossy, not blonde. He reached across and took Sydney’s hand, and made the illusion fade away, calling the enemy to return.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and pieced together a smile that was reassuring and strong and false until Lauren’s face was smooth, until she let her mask relax and become pliant for the next dramatic scene.
Someone, it no longer disturbed him that it was an enemy who held his hand and crawled into his bed at night, an enemy that made itself at home in his skin.
“Let’s go home.”
It was his voice, but something inside him was still surprised.
***
V.
Dixon was not impressed. Vaughn could see this despite the concerned expression, the dark eyes that gave little away.
“I realize you’re hurting,” Dixon said, his voice full of understanding and compassion, “and I know how you feel. When Diane died... I didn’t know how to go on. I knew I had to survive somehow, or at least pretend to for my children. But then I realized, the longer I held onto the grief, the anger, the resentment, the more my children were suffering. I couldn’t even begin to help them without first helping myself.”
Dixon’s eyes bore into his, as if imparting a sermon that Vaughn was to learn and take to heart. If there was a lesson there, he didn’t understand it.
When he’d learnt that Kendall had been replaced (for undisclosed reasons) Vaughn knew that this was the golden opportunity. Surely Dixon would be receptive to the proposal of interrogating Lauren for information-Vaughn was aware of the extensive techniques the CIA employed. Failing that, Lauren could always be monitored until she slipped and revealed Sydney’s whereabouts.
Vaughn had been wrong, however. The loss of Dixon’s wife had worked against Vaughn’s favor.
“Sydney’s alive, and Lauren whoever she’s working for knows where she is.”
He hated the pity that immediately surged to Dixon’s eyes.
“Vaughn, we had the DNA tested several times. It was a match. I know-“
“No, you don’t,” Vaughn said, his voice steely and mind determined. “It may seem farfetched, but she’s alive. I can feel it in my gut; it isn’t much, but I have an instinct, and-“
“Vaughn,” Dixon said again, his voice still kind, but tinged with the faintest impatience. “You know I can’t work with that.”
“You don’t have to. Just have a few agents tail Lauren Reed, monitor her communications-“
“I haven’t heard any concrete evidence about that either,” Dixon said, holding up one hand when Vaughn started to interrupt. “Her blonde hair and dark roots: plenty of women dye their hair for other reasons than to seduce you, even if it is apparently known that you have or had a penchant for that attribute. Her love of ice hockey: it’s a popular sport; my daughter has games every weekend, and many people enjoy it. Her shyness: I’ve spoken to Senator Reed, her father. He was very supportive of her career choice, commented that he didn’t expect her to last very long at the NSC because of this very characteristic.
“All that tells me,” Dixon concluded, “is that Agent Reed is a woman you would find attractive, and is apparently attracted to you. Nothing more.
“I don’t mean to be unkind, Vaughn. Sydney was important to me too. I watched her grow up, and I admired her for everything she was. But she’s dead now. It’s been six months. Don’t you think it’s time you let yourself move on?”
Vaughn had been silent as Dixon spoke, but while his friend and new boss saw a man who was finally realizing the world had not stopped, and was waiting for him to rejoin it, inside was another story altogether. If anything, Vaughn’s resolve had grown stronger. He would find Sydney, and he would save her. With the CIA’s resources, he would do it on his own.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said finally. “Is it… is it all right if I take the rest of the day off?”
“Take as long as you need,” Dixon said, a relieved smile on his face, pleased that his speech had had the desired effect.
Vaughn returned the smile weakly and left the office. He needed to prepare himself for his most difficult and longest mission yet: to save Sydney and destroy her capturers, the people unknown. And to do so, he could no longer trust his heart, his emotions, or his impulses. Whoever sent Lauren Reed, a manufactured version of the woman of his dreams, already owned the map to that. If Vaughn was to succeed, he could only rely on his head and everything he’d ever learnt about playing a part-nothing and no one else.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized that Sydney was most likely no alive, burned and charred at her last residence and final grave.
But he had to hope for something.
***
VI.
The day when he was nine years old and broke Susan’s favorite vase, the day he blamed baby Julia and became the object of her unmoving stare, the day that was burned and charred deep into his mind, his father came home with a look in his eyes that told Vaughn redemption was in sight. He didn’t know the meaning of the word, at that age, but he knew how his entire body felt lighter after crying in his mother’s arms, allowing her to whisper soothing words and kiss his problems away.
“I talked to David’s mother just then,” his father said casually, loosening his tie and laying his jacket over the back of a nearby armchair. Vaughn watched him from the piano stool, his back straight as if he were a puppet held up by strings. “She said that you told her Julia broke her vase.” Vaughn waited until his father said something he could reply to. “Did you see it happen?”
“Yes,” Vaughn nodded, relieved to be able to tell the truth.
“Where was Mrs. Baker?”
“In the kitchen, I think.” Truth.
“She left you alone?”
“Yes.” Truth.
“What were you and David doing?”
Vaughn shrugged. Not yet a lie.
“Son,” his father said, bending so they were eye to eye. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
He’d often wondered what it was like, for the bad men on the other side of the table. Did they sit there, cowering under his father’s gaze, so fierce that they could not help but spill the truth? Did they stay silent, guarding secrets close to their hearts until tricked, their game of silence betraying them? Did they face a raging inner turmoil, the guilt weighing down on them until they revealed the truth and were helped by the man with graying hair and shiny CIA badge?
Vaughn wished he could talk to one of those bad men and ask, “Did you make the right decision? Please tell me what to do.”
He wanted to tell the truth, admit that it was David’s fault, not baby Julia’s, not anyone else’s. But if he said that the warmth in his father’s eyes would quickly turn to disappointment, the truth would slide a table of scratched perfection between them. His guilt would be relieved, but no words or trophy would ever take away the disappointment.
And if he lied… the guilt might never leave him, but at least this way David, as well as himself, could be saved. It was the honorable thing to do.
The lie was a part of him now, after all, a coating of sticky tar that could never be fully washed away.
“No, dad,” he said finally, and even after his father’s back straightened, Vaughn’s gaze remained firm.
His father taught him that.
***
VII.
Later, Vaughn would remember that it was a game that started it all, that last summer afternoon that Susan’s vase was intact. The game was twisted, innocent, and capable of choking his life, the neck young and smooth, the lungs barely knowing how to gasp for air. The game: protect David from Susan’s evil clutches. The prize: David saved. That was all he’d wanted, but when the success of one led to the other, Vaughn had to admit that neither was the reason for the black tar thickening around his heart.
“I have a surprise for you,” the woman-Lauren, girlfriend of three months and Covenant spy-by his side said, and although he answered with a quick smile and an affectionate kiss, his mind was not on her. They were on another woman, so close that if he called out she might have heard him, even through the cold metal and dirty glass barriers of her car.
Every time he saw her a part of him, burned and charred and almost forgotten now, came alive. This was the first time she had seen him.
He’d felt her presence before his car stopped, but it wasn’t until his lips were pressed against Lauren’s that he dared to look, one second of indulgence to last him a lifetime. He wanted to run to her, yell “Sydney! I’m sorry and I love you and none of this is true!” but there wasn’t any going back from this. He wanted to push Lauren off him, but he’d already painted blonde Sydney across her face, baby Julia across her eyes. His stomach clenched; in that one second he could see her tears, the blood of his betrayal staining her cheeks. In that instant, when he was connected to all three women, he glimpsed the dark future, the one he’d drawn in stone, where he would hide behind a fake wife and a fake life.
Vaughn closed his eyes and kissed Lauren again, then closed the door behind them.
There was the prize, and there was the game. In the beginning, in the end, he discarded them both.
He chose the glory.
***
VII.
That night he dreamt that he was leading Sydney down the road he had lived all his life, but they got lost because the pavements were blinding with good intentions and gold.
Characters: Vaughn/Sydney, Vaughn/Lauren
Summary: There was the prize, and there was the game. In the beginning, in the end, he discarded them both.
Disclaimer: Alias does not belong to me. No profit is being made.
***
“I have an instinct.”
-Michael Vaughn, Truth Be Told (Episode 1, Season 1), Alias
***
I.
The third time that the waiter offered Lauren more wine, Vaughn had the distinct feeling that a large vein on his temple was throbbing violently. “Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re leering at, and stop interrupting our dinner or I’ll shoot you with my CIA-issued handgun!” he wanted to say, but instead fought to keep a placid smile on his face. He must’ve been out of practice though, or underestimated Lauren, because she saw right through his thin façade.
“Honey,” she said, reaching across the table to place a hand over his own, “you’re looking quite stressed. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, then widened it in an attempt to make it genuine. “It’s just that Donovan has been cranky for some reason, and he kept me up half the night yesterday. I even put him outside, but then he started howling and one of the neighbors started banging on my door…” Vaughn sighed. “It was a long night.”
“Poor baby,” Lauren said. “He’s probably just starved for attention with you at work so much these days. Dogs are a lot like humans, you know.”
He frowned at her answer. “You said you’ve never owned a dog.”
“I haven’t. But I know a lot of people who do,” she said with a soft laugh. “What’s with the interrogation, Michael? I thought you agreed to leave work where it belongs for tonight. In case you missed it, your dog isn’t the only one who’s been missing you.” Lauren stroked his hand lightly, and a shiver went up his spine. “Maybe I should stay at your place tonight, make sure you get a good night’s rest…” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Are you volunteering to keep Donovan company?”
“That’s not what I had in mind.” Vaughn watched as a small pout formed on her lips, and wondered if she did it purposely or if it was unintentional. “Why did you call him that, anyway? It seems like such a somber name for such a happy animal.”
“What would you have called him, then?” Vaughn countered reflexively.
“Lassie.”
“Donovan’s male. And that’s a horrible name.”
“Only to the unromantic.”
“How is Lassie romantic?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed dramatically. “I have bad taste, obviously. I’m with you, aren’t I?” He stayed silent. “Oh, don’t be like that; you know I’m only joking. But honestly, what made you choose Donovan?”
Vaughn shrugged, feeling irrationally uncomfortable with the question. It wasn’t incredibly personal, after all, and he’d shared far more. “It was the name of the pet store,” he said finally. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“If we end up getting married and having kids, remind me not to let you name them,” Lauren said playfully.
As much as her words bothered him, he was glad that she was smiling and joking again. It meant that he was acting normal. “If it was a girl, what would you name her?” he asked suddenly, perhaps too suddenly, judging from the startled look on Lauren’s face, the laughter slowly sliding off her face like shiny foam.
“Elisa,” she replied after a moment of studying him. “For my great-grandmother. What brought this on-“
“If it was a girl, I’d call her Julia,” he said, pulling his hand away from her grasp. “After an old friend. She was very important to me, even though she was… from a different world.” Vaughn searched Lauren’s eyes for some sort of understanding, or recognition-anything to prove what he knew was true.
“What happened to her?”
“She’s lost now.”
***
II.
It was the first of many times, years and days and minutes separating them, but he still remembered the first like it was yesterday.
He was nine years old, he was young, and he learnt how to lie.
Back then he’d been friends with a boy called David, and although there weren’t any photos Vaughn knew that at one time, when they were nine years old, they’d shared identical toothy grins that held too many secrets.
David had a mother and a younger sister, but they both had fair hair and fair skin while his was dark. David’s mother would only let her son call her “Susan”, but Vaughn never knew why.
Vaughn could remember being there one day, Susan cooing about how smart he was to receive an “A” in math, and a shadow falling across her face when David returned from the bathroom. Susan looked at him as if he were a smudge in the picture of her perfect living room, something that needed to be erased. She excused herself-to make a phone call, to check on lunch, to get away-soon after. Vaughn remembered how she turned to him, her neighbor’s son, and asked him to watch her darling daughter.
“Eh,” David shrugged. “Less responsibility for me,” and then David threw a baseball at Vaughn, letting him know the subject was to be forgotten.
The entire ten minutes Susan was gone, a pit of unease began to mount in the bottom of Vaughn’s stomach. Perhaps it was because playing catch indoors was strictly forbidden, and Vaughn, like his father, always followed the rules. Or perhaps it was because he was breaking his promise, and leaving David’s two-year-old sister unattended.
He could see her from the corner of his eyes at times, curiously silent, as he swiveled in a throw, or darted to receive the ball. Mostly it was just a glimpse of her pale blonde hair, the pigtails shining in the sunlight, but once she looked up at him, and he stood frozen for a moment, staring at the hazel eyes that seemed too old for her face. It was only the sound of a vase breaking that pulled him away.
“Crap!” David hissed as they both stared at the broken pieces of the antique vase that Susan loved, scattered across the floor. “Susan said if I did anything wrong this week, she wouldn’t take me to see Dad. She said he worked too hard to see what a failure I am…”
Vaughn watched his friend hurriedly hide the baseball in the cupboard, panic etched across his face. David was only allowed to see his father once a month, and Vaughn knew how much it meant to him.
“Don’t worry,” he promised. “It’ll be okay.”
At that moment Susan ran back into the room, caught sight of the broken vase, the flowers they used to hold… and her daughter who had wandered over to the mess of porcelain and petals. “What did you do?” She turned a furious eye onto David as she pulled the little girl into her protective embrace. “You could have seriously hurt her! Why are you so selfish, David?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” David protested nervously.
“Don’t you lie to me, young man.” Susan glared at him, then muttered under her breath loud enough for all of them to hear, “how you two could share a father is beyond me.”
“It really wasn’t his fault,” Vaughn cut in quickly. “I saw the whole thing, ma’am. I tried to stop her, but I wasn’t fast enough. It was Julia. She did it.”
Susan stared at him suspiciously. “Julia broke my vase?”
“It was an accident,” he said, and he looked straight into her eyes, kept his gaze steady. It’s my job to tell who is lying, his father had told him. Unless they’ve been doing it for years, most liars can’t look you in the eye. For Vaughn, weaving a truth into the lie made it easier.
“I can pay for it, if you want,” he offered. “I mean, I don’t have much money, but I can save up. Or borrow some…” Vaughn knew that his friend was safe when Susan started to smiled with amusement.
“No, it’s all right. I’m just glad you’re all safe.” She shifted Julia in her arms, but the girl was staring at Vaughn, her eyes those of a woman accusing and betrayed. “You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you, baby?” Susan cooed before making her way to the door. She paused there, and Vaughn waited for her to apologize to David, but she never did. “I’m going to put Julia to bed for her nap, then I’ll come back to clean this.”
Beside him, David let out a sharp breath when Susan had gone. “That was a close one. Let’s play something else, Mike.”
Vaughn shook his head, his stomach still churning at the thought of baby Julia’s eyes.
“I don’t feel like playing anything else,” he said.
Besides, he’d already lost once today. The game: catch.
***
III.
He had a hangover the first time he saw Lauren, and most likely the first time Lauren saw him. It probably didn’t make a difference to her either way.
“Vaughn,” Weiss said appearing at his desk one overly bright day. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Not interested.”
“Don’t be so dismissive. I’m doing you a favor,” Weiss said. “You’re doing me a favor. I’m supposed to be taking her on a mini-tour today, but I have a meeting with Kendall. Actually,” Weiss paused, “I’m doing her a favor too, since I saw her eyeballing you earlier. Guess she likes them scruffy.”
“Find someone else. I’m not doing it.”
“Hey buddy, whose couch were you sleeping on last night? Who held your hair back when you vomited, if you had long hair? That’s right-me. So it’s safe to say that you can take fifteen minutes of your time well spent doing nothing, and show this incredibly gorgeous woman around, right?”
Vaughn sighed. “Fine. But-“
“Great,” Weiss said quickly, then raised a hand to motion someone over. “Here she is now.”
She was pretty, Vaughn grudgingly admitted to himself. If it weren’t for Sydney, he would find this woman very attractive, with her long blonde hair, petite body and full lips.
“Lauren, meet Michael Vaughn,” Weiss said when she finally stood in front of his desk. “He’ll be showing you around. Vaughn, this is Lauren Reed. She’s from the NSC. And now I’m going to see if I still have a job. Have fun kids.” And with that, he waved them goodbye.
“He’s quite a character,” Lauren said as they watched Weiss leave, weaving through the maze of desks before ducking down the hallway that led to Kendall’s office. Vaughn knew that route well, had walked it many times in the months following Sydney’s death.
“It’s surprisingly quiet here; I’d imagine it to be much more hustle-bustle,” Lauren commented when Vaughn stayed silent, leaving an awkwardness between them. “Since there’s no one here yet, and I’m spending most of today observing, do you mind if we got a cup of coffee until there’s something substantial to watch?”
In the past he’d always been caught off-guard when a beautiful woman spoke to him, unsure and looking over his shoulder to see if there was someone else there. The only thing that caught him off-guard with Lauren was how shy and yet approachable she seemed, a combination that was surprisingly appealing, and immediately sent a wave of revulsion down his throat. The sting of his own weakness and betrayal made his tone sharp.
“Sorry, I’m busy.”
“Oh, she said, and he watched as an embarrassed flush spread across her cheeks, contrasting with her pale skin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. If you’ve work to do, I’m perfectly capable of showing myself around. It does, after all, look quite a lot like the NSC offices,” she quirked a smile in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “And the bank I worked at before that.”
Vaughn nodded, and noticed dispassionately as her face fell, as if she’d expected him to refuse her solution, be a perfect gentleman and rebuke her offer as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. She’d been expecting someone else.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, and returned to his desk without waiting for a reply. If she’d said something, he didn’t hear it.
Afterwards, when he was sitting alone on the kitchen floor, between the fourth vodka shot and seventh swig of wine, he realized hat she must’ve been a spy, sent so her superiors could gloat about their victory over him, over him losing Sydney, who’d been with them, waiting for him to rescue her all along.
***
IV.
The candlelight flickering in her eyes made them change color, from the deepest blue-green to a murky brown. Then back.
“This is our anniversary,” she said, confusion marring her face as she looked at him. There was also hurt there, love too, and pleading, all of them twisted into a brilliant mask that did not crack, but he saw right through it. He saw the enemy, he saw the Covenant, he saw all the people he needed to destroy, all the people who would burn-
But then it was Sydney sitting with him, her eyes aglow with candlelight; Lauren tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear-brown and glossy, not blonde. He reached across and took Sydney’s hand, and made the illusion fade away, calling the enemy to return.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and pieced together a smile that was reassuring and strong and false until Lauren’s face was smooth, until she let her mask relax and become pliant for the next dramatic scene.
Someone, it no longer disturbed him that it was an enemy who held his hand and crawled into his bed at night, an enemy that made itself at home in his skin.
“Let’s go home.”
It was his voice, but something inside him was still surprised.
***
V.
Dixon was not impressed. Vaughn could see this despite the concerned expression, the dark eyes that gave little away.
“I realize you’re hurting,” Dixon said, his voice full of understanding and compassion, “and I know how you feel. When Diane died... I didn’t know how to go on. I knew I had to survive somehow, or at least pretend to for my children. But then I realized, the longer I held onto the grief, the anger, the resentment, the more my children were suffering. I couldn’t even begin to help them without first helping myself.”
Dixon’s eyes bore into his, as if imparting a sermon that Vaughn was to learn and take to heart. If there was a lesson there, he didn’t understand it.
When he’d learnt that Kendall had been replaced (for undisclosed reasons) Vaughn knew that this was the golden opportunity. Surely Dixon would be receptive to the proposal of interrogating Lauren for information-Vaughn was aware of the extensive techniques the CIA employed. Failing that, Lauren could always be monitored until she slipped and revealed Sydney’s whereabouts.
Vaughn had been wrong, however. The loss of Dixon’s wife had worked against Vaughn’s favor.
“Sydney’s alive, and Lauren whoever she’s working for knows where she is.”
He hated the pity that immediately surged to Dixon’s eyes.
“Vaughn, we had the DNA tested several times. It was a match. I know-“
“No, you don’t,” Vaughn said, his voice steely and mind determined. “It may seem farfetched, but she’s alive. I can feel it in my gut; it isn’t much, but I have an instinct, and-“
“Vaughn,” Dixon said again, his voice still kind, but tinged with the faintest impatience. “You know I can’t work with that.”
“You don’t have to. Just have a few agents tail Lauren Reed, monitor her communications-“
“I haven’t heard any concrete evidence about that either,” Dixon said, holding up one hand when Vaughn started to interrupt. “Her blonde hair and dark roots: plenty of women dye their hair for other reasons than to seduce you, even if it is apparently known that you have or had a penchant for that attribute. Her love of ice hockey: it’s a popular sport; my daughter has games every weekend, and many people enjoy it. Her shyness: I’ve spoken to Senator Reed, her father. He was very supportive of her career choice, commented that he didn’t expect her to last very long at the NSC because of this very characteristic.
“All that tells me,” Dixon concluded, “is that Agent Reed is a woman you would find attractive, and is apparently attracted to you. Nothing more.
“I don’t mean to be unkind, Vaughn. Sydney was important to me too. I watched her grow up, and I admired her for everything she was. But she’s dead now. It’s been six months. Don’t you think it’s time you let yourself move on?”
Vaughn had been silent as Dixon spoke, but while his friend and new boss saw a man who was finally realizing the world had not stopped, and was waiting for him to rejoin it, inside was another story altogether. If anything, Vaughn’s resolve had grown stronger. He would find Sydney, and he would save her. With the CIA’s resources, he would do it on his own.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said finally. “Is it… is it all right if I take the rest of the day off?”
“Take as long as you need,” Dixon said, a relieved smile on his face, pleased that his speech had had the desired effect.
Vaughn returned the smile weakly and left the office. He needed to prepare himself for his most difficult and longest mission yet: to save Sydney and destroy her capturers, the people unknown. And to do so, he could no longer trust his heart, his emotions, or his impulses. Whoever sent Lauren Reed, a manufactured version of the woman of his dreams, already owned the map to that. If Vaughn was to succeed, he could only rely on his head and everything he’d ever learnt about playing a part-nothing and no one else.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized that Sydney was most likely no alive, burned and charred at her last residence and final grave.
But he had to hope for something.
***
VI.
The day when he was nine years old and broke Susan’s favorite vase, the day he blamed baby Julia and became the object of her unmoving stare, the day that was burned and charred deep into his mind, his father came home with a look in his eyes that told Vaughn redemption was in sight. He didn’t know the meaning of the word, at that age, but he knew how his entire body felt lighter after crying in his mother’s arms, allowing her to whisper soothing words and kiss his problems away.
“I talked to David’s mother just then,” his father said casually, loosening his tie and laying his jacket over the back of a nearby armchair. Vaughn watched him from the piano stool, his back straight as if he were a puppet held up by strings. “She said that you told her Julia broke her vase.” Vaughn waited until his father said something he could reply to. “Did you see it happen?”
“Yes,” Vaughn nodded, relieved to be able to tell the truth.
“Where was Mrs. Baker?”
“In the kitchen, I think.” Truth.
“She left you alone?”
“Yes.” Truth.
“What were you and David doing?”
Vaughn shrugged. Not yet a lie.
“Son,” his father said, bending so they were eye to eye. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
He’d often wondered what it was like, for the bad men on the other side of the table. Did they sit there, cowering under his father’s gaze, so fierce that they could not help but spill the truth? Did they stay silent, guarding secrets close to their hearts until tricked, their game of silence betraying them? Did they face a raging inner turmoil, the guilt weighing down on them until they revealed the truth and were helped by the man with graying hair and shiny CIA badge?
Vaughn wished he could talk to one of those bad men and ask, “Did you make the right decision? Please tell me what to do.”
He wanted to tell the truth, admit that it was David’s fault, not baby Julia’s, not anyone else’s. But if he said that the warmth in his father’s eyes would quickly turn to disappointment, the truth would slide a table of scratched perfection between them. His guilt would be relieved, but no words or trophy would ever take away the disappointment.
And if he lied… the guilt might never leave him, but at least this way David, as well as himself, could be saved. It was the honorable thing to do.
The lie was a part of him now, after all, a coating of sticky tar that could never be fully washed away.
“No, dad,” he said finally, and even after his father’s back straightened, Vaughn’s gaze remained firm.
His father taught him that.
***
VII.
Later, Vaughn would remember that it was a game that started it all, that last summer afternoon that Susan’s vase was intact. The game was twisted, innocent, and capable of choking his life, the neck young and smooth, the lungs barely knowing how to gasp for air. The game: protect David from Susan’s evil clutches. The prize: David saved. That was all he’d wanted, but when the success of one led to the other, Vaughn had to admit that neither was the reason for the black tar thickening around his heart.
“I have a surprise for you,” the woman-Lauren, girlfriend of three months and Covenant spy-by his side said, and although he answered with a quick smile and an affectionate kiss, his mind was not on her. They were on another woman, so close that if he called out she might have heard him, even through the cold metal and dirty glass barriers of her car.
Every time he saw her a part of him, burned and charred and almost forgotten now, came alive. This was the first time she had seen him.
He’d felt her presence before his car stopped, but it wasn’t until his lips were pressed against Lauren’s that he dared to look, one second of indulgence to last him a lifetime. He wanted to run to her, yell “Sydney! I’m sorry and I love you and none of this is true!” but there wasn’t any going back from this. He wanted to push Lauren off him, but he’d already painted blonde Sydney across her face, baby Julia across her eyes. His stomach clenched; in that one second he could see her tears, the blood of his betrayal staining her cheeks. In that instant, when he was connected to all three women, he glimpsed the dark future, the one he’d drawn in stone, where he would hide behind a fake wife and a fake life.
Vaughn closed his eyes and kissed Lauren again, then closed the door behind them.
There was the prize, and there was the game. In the beginning, in the end, he discarded them both.
He chose the glory.
***
VII.
That night he dreamt that he was leading Sydney down the road he had lived all his life, but they got lost because the pavements were blinding with good intentions and gold.