Title: Facing Forward (A Series in Six
Parts) Disclaimer: I don't own Alias or its characters. This
is for my and others' reading pleasure.
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Epilogue |
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Six Years Later The sun shone brightly that day, but although Sydney's hat had fallen to the grass beside her, she didn't seem to notice or mind. There was a faint breeze, and the jeans and t-shirt she wore were comfortable. As often happened when Sydney gardened, she hardly noticed how quickly the time passed. She'd been working for more than half an hour, her fingers becoming soiled and dark as she pulled away the weeds and the remnants of flowers that had long passed their bloom. Several yards away from where she worked, a lilac tree stood in full colour, its blossoms rippling back and forth in the breeze and alternating shadow and light. For her own work, she'd brought out several new flats of colourful choices for planting, saved from last week's trip to the landscaping centre. For the first time, she would try growing perennials - six years had been long enough to wait for that attempt, and it had taken a long time for her to make the choice. "Sydney, I could have planted the entire front row of hedges by now," Vaughn joked with her as she stood in the greenhouse rows, trying to decide. "But I don't know if the asters are right," she told him. "They're so bright...But the geraniums are nice too..." Vaughn looked over the flowers, thinking out loud that the deep purple-red asters and the dark indigo geraniums were actually a nice compliment to each other. "You can't try them both?" he asked. She looked back at him. "These are perennials," she explained. "If they work, they'll be in the ground for a while, I want to make sure they'll look nice." Vaughn nodded. "Have you thought of putting something else in besides flowers? Maybe something that's more leafy..." his voice trailed off as he looked around the selection. "I suppose I could try that," she said thoughtfully. Vaughn let his gaze linger around the rows, then on the blue geraniums in her hand. He picked up that pot for a moment, then set it back down on the table and turned the corner, walking to the edge of the next row. He returned with two flats of muted, almost silvery-looking foliage. "Why don't you try these with the asters?" he offered, placing them in the cart, next to the dark red blooms. Sydney examined the tag. "Artemisia..." she read. She brought her fingers to the leaves, and felt how soft they were to the touch, even as their shape turned and pointed like miniature oak leaves...like lace, she thought. "I remember my mom always grew them along the edge of the garden," Vaughn explained, "Where the shade wasn't too dark. She liked them because even when they didn't bloom, the leaves were nice. Plus, they tend to spread out across bare patches, so they can fill in small spaces really well," he said, fingering some of the smooth, lacy edges. She looked back at Vaughn for a moment, pausing. He looked up to see her staring back at him, an indescribable look on her face. "We don't have to," he said, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. "I just mean, at least this way if the flowers don't bloom for some reason, then these will still last into the fall, and..." "No, no," she interrupted, "It's a perfect combination," she said resolutely, putting both her hands on him, and her lips on his cheek. "I love it, I do..." And she reached out a hand to touch the soft foliage once more. It was almost green and silver at the same time, and as she ran her hand over it, she felt somehow comforted. Perfect, she thought now, as she lowered the first new plant into the soil. Over time, the plant would ease into its new surroundings, growing softer and broader across the bare surface of the ground around it. The minutes passed as she worked, digging and pressing, trimming and brushing. When she laid down her trowel another half hour later, she admired her work carefully. It had never taken her so long to finish so little space in her own garden, but this was different. This was for her father. The gravestone was simple, and stood about three feet high from the ground, and four feet wide. Today, the sixth anniversary of her father's memorial, his stone was less isolated than it had been on the day he was buried. Several rows stretched out on either side, behind her and before her. The lilac tree and the large maple next to it were the only shade close by, but several trees lined the fencerow in the distance. During that first year, it had been enough for her to come and place a bouquet at the foot of the stone. She had held Vaughn's hand the entire time, and blinked furiously against the tears in her eyes. By the third year she had started visiting more often than just on his anniversary. Somehow she found a different kind of strength returning to her on those visits, and she decided she needed to do more than just bring bouquets. Later, she counted herself lucky that Jack's resting place was in a cemetery that allowed their visitors to plant their own flowers. And so Sydney started planting, at first just a few simple flowers, and then adding a little more colour each time. Some times she would talk to him, as if he was just there next to her - perhaps looking over her shoulder as she worked, or watching her while sitting on the bench under the tree. Other times she would simply sit or work in silence, as she had done today. Sydney leaned back to admire her work, now. She let her gaze linger over the soft shimmer of the light on the silver-green leaves and the tiny yellow buds that had started to form among them, and the dark red asters that sat amidst the lacy leaves. She brushed some remnants of soil from her hands, and reached out a hand to touch the blossoms, to feel the smoothness under her fingertips. Her eye was drawn once more to the stone. She reached up and felt the cool, even stone, and then the rough, deep edges that marked her father's name. Jack Bristow A ragged sigh escaped her lips, as her fingers left the edge of the stone. "I wish you were here, Dad," she said, simply. Her voice left her with difficulty, and she hadn't realized until she spoke just how quickly the dampness had sprung to her eyes. Her gaze lowered to her knees then, as she brushed at her cheeks with the back of one hand. A moment later, just as she was starting to gather her things, she heard soft footsteps behind her, and a voice calling. "Mama!" Sydney turned just in time to hold out her arms to the little girl, who approached eagerly with a handful of wispy dandelions. "Hi, sweetheart," she greeted, wrapping one arm around the girl who crouched next to her, and pressing her lips to her daughter's forehead. The child leaned into her mother's arms happily, and looked up at Sydney curiously as she rested a hand on her knee. "Daddy said you were sad," she said, as if an uncertain question. Since before Eleanor Vaughn had started talking in sentences, Sydney had learned that she would never be able to predict what her daughter would say next. Sometimes she managed to say exactly the right thing. Sydney held the girl even more tightly to her, swallowing against the lump in her throat. She looked back over the girl's head at Vaughn, who had followed a few paces behind. He smiled a little in explanation back at his wife, and dipped his chin as she turned back to continue her conversation. "Yes, I am feeling a little sad today, Ellie," she told the four-year-old, blinking a little again. With her free hand she reached to smooth away a light brown curl that had strayed in the wind. "I miss your grandfather, a lot," she explained, as she looked back at the stone. Ellie nodded as she followed her mother's gaze. "That's what Daddy said, too," she told her. "He said he misses him sometimes, but you miss him the most," she explained knowingly. Sydney lifted her eyebrows in surprise, somehow reassured by her daughter's simple statement. "Yes, that's true," she answered. "And some days I miss him more than others." She reached for Ellie's hand and took it in hers. "It makes me sad that he never got to meet you." Ellie nodded, and they both looked back quietly at the stone. The girl stood, then, reaching her small hands out to touch it. "We miss you!" she told the letters, in her clear, child-like voice, before bending to place a kiss atop the engraved marks. Sydney let a small laugh escape, in spite of herself, as she brushed at her cheek again. As much as she needed the time alone on these visits, she was glad to have her daughter with her now. Little Eleanor had been a surprise - but a joyful one - for both her parents, who had been married only a couple of months when they learned Sydney was pregnant. When the second anniversary of Jack Bristow's memorial arrived on the calendar, the couple brought their month-old baby girl with them. Sydney stood in front of his stone on a day much like that day two years before, clutching her tiny daughter and hoping that somewhere, he would be able to see her. It never ceased to amaze her how her feelings had grown and changed and deepened over the last years, all for such a little person. Even in her melancholy and regret, she felt warmed by this small, energetic presence that had invaded her life - and that presence had grown more energetic and outspoken with every year. She watched her daughter, and knew that if Jack Bristow were here with them now, he would be smiling. Ellie returned to her mother's lap just as quickly as she had left her side, still clutching the blossoms she had held earlier. Sydney looked down at the girls' hands, at the dandelions she had picked. "Did you have a nice walk?" she asked. The girl nodded, holding up her collection. "We found dandelions," she showed her. She pulled one out and handed it to her mother, then picked out another one for herself. "Daddy said you're supposed to make a wish, and then blow on them so that all the fuzz blows away," she explained from memory. Sydney looked back again at Vaughn, who smiled again more broadly this time, his hands still tucked in his pockets. She turned once more to her daughter, and held up the dandelion. "Did you already make a wish?" she asked her. "Yes, but I have another one, just in case," Ellie explained. Sydney nodded back, smiling, wondering what her wishes might have been. "All right, let's make our wishes, then," she instructed. They counted together to three, and sent the soft white seeds spilling out onto the breeze. It made Sydney smile again to watch them swirl away, and Ellie laughed, jumping up to run after them. As the girl returned, Sydney finished gathering her things in her tote bag, and stood in front of her. She held out a hand to her daughter, as they prepared to leave, and noticed her hands were not yet empty. "You forgot about this one," she said, pointing to the third dandelion in her hand. "Is it for your Daddy?" she asked. Ellie shook her head quickly. "No, he already did one," she answered. "It's for Grandpa Jack," she explained, and reached down to place it near the stone, alongside the flowers Sydney had so carefully planted. Sydney's breath caught in her throat as she watched - such a simple, childlike gesture, and yet so powerful. Wordlessly, she swallowed and smiled again at her daughter, and gave her hand a grateful squeeze. As Ellie stepped towards her again, Sydney bent down and wrapped her arms around her daughter, and pressed her lips to her cheek. "I love you, my girl," she said, simply. Ellie buried her head bashfully at Sydney's side, and took her hand as they walked towards Vaughn, who had patiently watched the small scene transpire. Ellie released her mother's hand, and walked ahead a few paces, examining the few clover blossoms that scattered across the path. Vaughn kissed Sydney's cheek, before placing his arms around her and she slid hers around him. "I love you, too," she said simply as she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. Her hand brushed across his cheek. "You know I love you, Syd," he answered, before pressing a kiss to her lips. After a moment, he looked again towards the stone, and complimented her work. "It looks good," he said. "I think it'll work," he added, nodding. She smiled back at him, and let her free hand fall to clasp hold of his. "I had some good help," she told him pointedly, before turning back to look at the flowers herself. "Are you ready to go?" he asked after another minute. Sydney nodded, slowly, as she turned her gaze back towards her daughter playing a few steps away, and then to her husband at her side. "Yes, I am."
~FIN~
Author's Notes Some thank-yous: This fic would absolutely not have been possible without the help of my beta-readers. Macha, Luna, CognacGirl, and JeSouhaite have been wonderfully meticulous and honest and given me many fantastic comments and suggestions. MissBlue (Nat) has once again out-done herself and produced some wonderful art to accompany several of the Parts. She and EmMindelan have also been lovely sources of feedback, for which I adore them. I also need to thank EmMindelan for letting me borrow the name 'Eleanor', which she used in one of her own fics. All of you ladies deserve some champagne! :D Titles: Some of you may be curious about the titles I used in this series. They are all borrowed from lines in the lyrics of the song Good Mother, by Jann Arden, which is one of my all-time favourites and I adore the emotion and depth of the words. Part of the reason I liked using these lyrics as titles is to try to convey some emotional depth for all of the major characters, rather than Sydney and Vaughn only - and I hope I have been able to do that in this fic :) Good Mother I've got money in my pocket Feet on ground Cardboard masks of all the people I've been Feet on ground Go and get yourself a copy of the song, I promise you won't regret it ;) Big, big *smooches* to everyone for reading. :) |
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