Sunny Request #6
“Okay, Shotgun, I’m in. How does it look?”
He watched her on the video feed, smiling a little. The mission was going well. Nadia was a talented agent, almost as good as her sister.
“You’re clear, Evergreen. The documents should be in the furthest cabinet to your left.”
The little figure on the screen started across the room, careful for any traps the team might not have been forewarned about. Even on the grainy, monochromatic video feed, he could tell that she moved with the fluid grace of a trained dancer. He wondered how Syd and Nadia managed to walk like that in those crazy heels. It was almost like she was floating, the way she moved. She reminded him so much of her sister, and he --
-- should be concentrating on getting her out of there alive. He checked the other monitors, and they all showed empty hallways. Good. Maybe they would be able to pull this mission off without a hitch.
He had been worried, when Sloane had decided to send Nadia instead of Syd to retrieve the Rambaldi documents that a small cell of terrorists in Bolivia were presumed to be hiding. He knew why he had been sent along; since his father’s notebook had mentioned the warehouse they were raiding. Sloane seemed to think that Vaughn would be able to read his father’s mind, and know how he would lay things out, what sorts of countermeasures he would use. So far, he’d been right.
Not sending Syd, a more experienced field agent, had seemed like a mistake, though. As talented as Nadia was, she didn’t have a lot of experience in the field, and he was worried as to how she would react under the pressure. He had spoken to Sloane about it, and not only had Sloane leapt to Nadia’s defense, but insisted vehemently that Syd was needed for another op, and this one would be better suited to Nadia’s skills.
After a few minutes on comms with her, he had seen that there was no need to worry. She had bypassed the guards with ease, and as soon as she got the documents, they could all go home. The sooner the better, he decided. Even with the air conditioning, it was sweltering in the black van under the hot sun.
“I’ve got an envelope,” Nadia announced, dragging him back to the present, “I’m just going to look inside and make sure it’s what we’re looking for, and then I’m moving to the extraction point. How are the hallways?”
He checked again, just in case.
“Still clear. Good work, Evergreen.”
“Thanks,” Nadia flashed a thumbs-up sign at him through the video camera, and then turned to the envelope, pulling out a sheaf of paper. As soon as she looked at the papers, Vaughn knew something was wrong. Her whole body tensed, and her breathing turned to rapid, shallow gasps.
“Evergreen, you okay in there? What’s wrong?” he asked. He really hoped he didn’t have to call Dixon to leave the extraction point and go in there to get her, it would be too dangerous. Maybe he was worrying too much, she could be fine. Maybe the heat was getting to her, or their comm frequency was being jammed.
The small hope of that was dashed as Nadia began to whimper deliriously, “Oh God, oh my God -- No no no . . .” What was wrong with her? He was just getting ready to call Dixon in to get her out of there when he noticed movement on one of the other monitors.
“Evergreen, there are four guards converging on your position. You have to move now,” he snapped into the headset. She didn’t even acknowledge him. Clearly, he needed to change tactics.
“Listen - listen to me, okay? I’m here with you, and Outrigger is waiting at the extraction point. It’s going to be okay. Just put the papers back in the envelope and get out of there.”
“You won’t let them hurt me, will you?” she whispered, almost inaudibly, her voice thick with terror and unshed tears.
“No,” he told her, relieved that he’d managed to get through to her, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise. Just get out of there, and we’ll take you home.”
He could see her nodding, and then watched as she put the papers back in the envelope, swiped at her eyes, and ran to the door.
“Take the right-hand hallway,” he warned her, “The guards are coming down the left. They’re almost to you.”
“Copy that,” she responded, her voice almost back to normal, and hurried down the hallway toward safety.
Watching the monitors for guards, he pulled out the blueprints of the building and gave her directions. He kept his voice steady and calm to make sure that she stayed with him. She seemed to almost anticipate his commands, moving as soon as he had finished speaking and, working together, somehow they managed to get her to the extraction point without attracting the attention of any guards, or setting off any alarms. Nadia got in the car, and as soon as it had pulled out of the driveway, Vaughn stopped looping the warehouse’s security feeds, and drove off to meet Dixon and Nadia at the hotel.
He wondered how he was going to explain this in his report. How would he phrase a report for Sloane that his daughter had completely broken down on a mission? What should he tell Syd? Syd would want to know about her sister’s health, but she might press too hard for the cause of the problem before Nadia was ready, and hurt her more. Besides, this was pretty personal, and it should be Nadia’s choice whether or not to talk to her sister about it. Shouldn’t it?
He still hadn’t come to a conclusion on what he should do by the time he made it to the hotel. It wasn’t important right now, he decided, since he still had some time to think about it. He parked the van and went into the hotel. Nadia and Dixon were in the lobby waiting for him, so he started walking toward them. Nadia looked as if nothing had ever happened. Dixon was telling her a story, something about one of his missions with Syd, and Nadia’s clear laugh echoed off the walls.
Dixon chuckled fondly, “Yeah, she just refused to jump! And by this time, it was way too late to go back or change her mind, so I had to push her . . . She wouldn’t even look at me for days.” He turned to Vaughn, “Vaughn. Good job with the mission today. Look, there’s a really bad thunderstorm coming, and Sloane’s recommending that we stay here for the night and head home tomorrow.” Smiling again, to Nadia, “Looking out for his daughter.”
Nadia retuned the smile, and he could tell how excited she was to have her father. He was glad for her, that acknowledging Sloane as her father had been so easy. He was still wrestling with the fact that his father might be alive, and that people who called themselves family friends were saying that he’d been a follower of Rambaldi. Accepting that his father may not have been the man he’d claimed to be when Vaughn was a child was really hard. He was sure it would come with time, but right now, he was pretty overwhelmed.
Dixon was smiling at him. “Sloane says the Agency’s paying. So go ahead. We could all use the rest.”
Vaughn nodded; and he, Nadia and Dixon checked in, got their keys and headed to their rooms. Vaughn was still mostly lost in his own thoughts, worry about Nadia’s condition and confusion over his father’s identity vying for precedence in his mind. She really did seem fine, now. As they walked up the stairs, she was still chattering to Dixon, trying to drag as many embarrassing Syd stories as she could out of him. He was resisting valiantly, but Vaughn could tell that the excitement shining in her eyes was wearing him down.
He got to his room first, and stopped to unlock his door. He said goodnight to the two of them, who said a quick goodnight in return, continuing on with a story about Syd trying to master a Portuguese accent. He’d have to ask Syd about that story when he got home. It sounded good. Of course, Syd would probably be annoyed with Dixon for bringing it up, but she’d get over it. And really, he could use a good laugh.
Opening the door, he let himself into his room, closing and locking the door behind him. Without even bothering to turn the light on, he kicked off his shoes and wandered over to the bed, flopping down on top of the covers inelegantly. The heat in the room was oppressive, and he didn’t have the energy to do much else. Falling asleep should have been a difficulty for him tonight, since he had so many worries running through his head, but exhaustion and the heavy atmosphere combined to knock him out before he knew what was happening, and he quickly fell asleep.
Sometime in the night, he was awakened by a knock at the door. Not really anxious, but always prepared, he took his gun - which he had forgotten to set aside when he’d fallen asleep, he’d been even more tired than he’d thought - turned on a lamp, and went to the door. He looked through the peep hole in the door, and saw Nadia standing on the other side. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, she had the envelope in her hand, and she was shifting from foot to foot nervously. He supposed that she was coming to ask him not to tell her father what had happened in the field today. Sighing, he went and put the gun down on the table next to the bed, and opened the door.
“Nadia, what is it?” he asked, but she shook her head, frowning.
“Not out here. May I come in? I’ll only be a few minutes.” She looked really upset. Vaughn knew that he probably didn’t want to hear whatever it was that she had to say.
“Sure,” he replied, “Come in.” He waved her into the room and she closed the door behind her. It was probably inappropriate, but he didn’t care that much. She was his girlfriend’s little sister, and he owed her whatever help he could give. Surely he could ignore the way her clothes clung to her body in the heat for just a couple of minutes.
Spreading her hands in front of her, she lowered her eyes and said, “I guess I owe you an explanation for what happened today.”
He shrugged. “You made it out, Nadia, that’s what’s important. Maybe you should just take a break from field work for a while -“
“That’s not it,” she interrupted, “It’s not like that. These papers, they’re your father’s. Look at them.” She held the envelope out for his inspection. He opened it and took out the top page of the document, and she was right. The pages were written in a thick, loopy hand that he didn’t recognize, but his father’s name was printed at the top, in the right-hand corner, in his characteristic block script.
He nodded. “It’s not all my father’s handwriting. Just the top. What is it, did he have an accomplice who -“
“It’s not an accomplice’s handwriting, Vaughn!” she burst out, her face twisting in anguish. “It’s mine. I wrote those pages, when I was about seven years old. That’s why I was so frightened - when I saw the pages, I remembered . . .”
This didn’t make any sense to him. Brill had said that his father had helped to take Nadia away from the people who had tortured her when she was a child. He put the envelope down.
“Nadia . . .” he said, gently placing a hand on her arm, “What did he do to you? My father.”
She flinched away from his touch and went to sit on the bed, taking a shuddering breath before beginning to speak in a low monotone.
“I don’t remember much, I was so young. But there were men, and they took me away from somewhere dark and scary. I stayed with them for a long time, maybe a year or two? They taught me to speak English - I couldn’t talk at all when I first came to stay with them - and they were starting to give me lessons in other subjects. But there was one man; he must have been your father. He had . . . a symbol on his hand. That symbol Anna Espinosa had, the one she burned into my skin. Sometimes, when the others weren’t there, he would take me into another room and inject me, like my father did, but he didn’t want the equations. He wanted the pictures, the visions. He rewarded me for doing well, but if I resisted, he could be so cruel. I was terrified of him. One day, another of the men came home while he was making me write, and there was a big fight. The second man came back and said that I had to go away now, to somewhere where I would be safe, and he brought me to the orphanage.”
Vaughn felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. How could the man he had worshipped as a child have done this to another human being, let alone a defenseless little girl? When Nadia had been seven, how old would he have been, seventeen? The memory of his mother at his graduation, telling him how proud his father would have been of him if only he could have seen this day combined with the mental image of his father slapping a sobbing little girl and snapping at her to draw the pictures this time; and it made him nauseous.
Nadia still sat on the bed, immobile, her head lowered so that her dark hair spilled across her face. He went and tentatively sat down next to her.
“Nadia . . .” he said, at a loss for words. What could he say to heal the pain his father had inflicted on her?
She tensed when he sat next to her, but she made no effort to move away. After a moment, she turned to face him. Looking up at him, her wide, brown eyes filled with tears. Her lower lip trembled, and his stomach twisted with guilt. The sins of the fathers . . .
“Vaughn,” she finally whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Nadia . . . You don’t need to be sorry, it’s my father who hurt you, who has caused nearly all the suffering in your life. It’s me that should be sorry, Nadia, and I am. So, so sorry.”
“No,” she replied, reaching to cover one of his hands with hers, “I mean that I’m sorry about your father. I remember how difficult it was to me to come to terms with what my father had done to - to my sister, and I haven’t known him for all of my life like you have with yours. It must be terribly painful . . .”
“How can you be so understanding?” he asked her. “How can you look at me, without seeing him, the memories of what he did to you?”
“Vaughn,” she chided gently, “You know as well as I do, maybe better, that we are not our parents. You’re a good man, I really believe that. You would never hurt me, would you?”
Looking into those liquid brown eyes, so deep like her sister’s, yet full of a hope Syd hadn’t exhibited in a long time, he felt something snap, something that he’d thought he had buried far enough down in his soul that he’d never think of it again. Nadia was so beautiful, and full of life. She should never have to suffer again.
His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Of course not, Nadia. Never. I could never, ever hurt you.”
She smiled at that and reached up to touch his cheek. He found himself wishing that he’d bothered to shave.
“Then you’re nothing like him,” she informed him. “I should go. Get some sleep before the flight home tomorrow. Thank you for listening.”
She leaned toward him to kiss his cheek, and that’s when the line that had been blurring since he met her was finally completely erased. His lips were on hers, and his hands were moving into her hair. Nadia’s eyes widened and she made a sound of surprise into his mouth, but she didn’t make any attempt to disengage. She opened her mouth to his, and it hadn’t been like this with Syd since Lauren’s death, and he was almost dizzy with need.
This was bad, it was wrong, his mind screamed at him, and he could feel her heart beating through the warm skin under his hands. When had her shirt come off? Didn’t matter, it was gone, and then everything was gone, and oh God, he thought, she’s just a kid, she’s twenty-six years old, just a kid . . . She’s Syd’s little sister, he thought, and that was almost enough to stop him, but by then she was lying on the bed and begging please, please in a delirious mixture of English and Spanish, and thoughts of Sydney faded away.
Afterward, there was a strange awkwardness between them. They lay together in silence, listening to the rain beat against the windows, trying to find words to express what had just happened, and what they should do now. Both of them had someone else back home, he was dating her sister, and she’d been seeing his best friend. What were they going to tell them? Maybe they should just pretend that nothing had ever happened. Finally, he dropped a kiss to her shoulder, built up his courage, and decided to be the first one to speak.
“Nadia, this - what happened tonight - it was - “
Nadia rolled over, facing away from him.
“Don’t, please . . .” she whispered, “Not tonight. Can we let this just be for a while before we try and analyze it? I don’t know what to do, either, and I know what you’re going to say, and I can’t do this, not tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Nadia - “
“You said you’d never hurt me, but you did,” she said bitterly to the window.
When he woke up the next morning, she was gone, though her scent lingered in the room. She had taken the envelope with her when she’d gone, he noticed. He climbed out of bed and got dressed, wondering if he would ever become accustomed to this new weight of guilt on his shoulders. He had hurt Nadia, he had wronged Syd, and that was something that he could never forgive himself for. Syd had told him that she feared that he would betray her, and he had, just like she’d thought.
He spent the rest of the day trying to avoid Nadia’s eyes, in order to evade the accusation that lurked within them.
You said you’d never hurt me, but you did.
He watched her on the video feed, smiling a little. The mission was going well. Nadia was a talented agent, almost as good as her sister.
“You’re clear, Evergreen. The documents should be in the furthest cabinet to your left.”
The little figure on the screen started across the room, careful for any traps the team might not have been forewarned about. Even on the grainy, monochromatic video feed, he could tell that she moved with the fluid grace of a trained dancer. He wondered how Syd and Nadia managed to walk like that in those crazy heels. It was almost like she was floating, the way she moved. She reminded him so much of her sister, and he --
-- should be concentrating on getting her out of there alive. He checked the other monitors, and they all showed empty hallways. Good. Maybe they would be able to pull this mission off without a hitch.
He had been worried, when Sloane had decided to send Nadia instead of Syd to retrieve the Rambaldi documents that a small cell of terrorists in Bolivia were presumed to be hiding. He knew why he had been sent along; since his father’s notebook had mentioned the warehouse they were raiding. Sloane seemed to think that Vaughn would be able to read his father’s mind, and know how he would lay things out, what sorts of countermeasures he would use. So far, he’d been right.
Not sending Syd, a more experienced field agent, had seemed like a mistake, though. As talented as Nadia was, she didn’t have a lot of experience in the field, and he was worried as to how she would react under the pressure. He had spoken to Sloane about it, and not only had Sloane leapt to Nadia’s defense, but insisted vehemently that Syd was needed for another op, and this one would be better suited to Nadia’s skills.
After a few minutes on comms with her, he had seen that there was no need to worry. She had bypassed the guards with ease, and as soon as she got the documents, they could all go home. The sooner the better, he decided. Even with the air conditioning, it was sweltering in the black van under the hot sun.
“I’ve got an envelope,” Nadia announced, dragging him back to the present, “I’m just going to look inside and make sure it’s what we’re looking for, and then I’m moving to the extraction point. How are the hallways?”
He checked again, just in case.
“Still clear. Good work, Evergreen.”
“Thanks,” Nadia flashed a thumbs-up sign at him through the video camera, and then turned to the envelope, pulling out a sheaf of paper. As soon as she looked at the papers, Vaughn knew something was wrong. Her whole body tensed, and her breathing turned to rapid, shallow gasps.
“Evergreen, you okay in there? What’s wrong?” he asked. He really hoped he didn’t have to call Dixon to leave the extraction point and go in there to get her, it would be too dangerous. Maybe he was worrying too much, she could be fine. Maybe the heat was getting to her, or their comm frequency was being jammed.
The small hope of that was dashed as Nadia began to whimper deliriously, “Oh God, oh my God -- No no no . . .” What was wrong with her? He was just getting ready to call Dixon in to get her out of there when he noticed movement on one of the other monitors.
“Evergreen, there are four guards converging on your position. You have to move now,” he snapped into the headset. She didn’t even acknowledge him. Clearly, he needed to change tactics.
“Listen - listen to me, okay? I’m here with you, and Outrigger is waiting at the extraction point. It’s going to be okay. Just put the papers back in the envelope and get out of there.”
“You won’t let them hurt me, will you?” she whispered, almost inaudibly, her voice thick with terror and unshed tears.
“No,” he told her, relieved that he’d managed to get through to her, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise. Just get out of there, and we’ll take you home.”
He could see her nodding, and then watched as she put the papers back in the envelope, swiped at her eyes, and ran to the door.
“Take the right-hand hallway,” he warned her, “The guards are coming down the left. They’re almost to you.”
“Copy that,” she responded, her voice almost back to normal, and hurried down the hallway toward safety.
Watching the monitors for guards, he pulled out the blueprints of the building and gave her directions. He kept his voice steady and calm to make sure that she stayed with him. She seemed to almost anticipate his commands, moving as soon as he had finished speaking and, working together, somehow they managed to get her to the extraction point without attracting the attention of any guards, or setting off any alarms. Nadia got in the car, and as soon as it had pulled out of the driveway, Vaughn stopped looping the warehouse’s security feeds, and drove off to meet Dixon and Nadia at the hotel.
He wondered how he was going to explain this in his report. How would he phrase a report for Sloane that his daughter had completely broken down on a mission? What should he tell Syd? Syd would want to know about her sister’s health, but she might press too hard for the cause of the problem before Nadia was ready, and hurt her more. Besides, this was pretty personal, and it should be Nadia’s choice whether or not to talk to her sister about it. Shouldn’t it?
He still hadn’t come to a conclusion on what he should do by the time he made it to the hotel. It wasn’t important right now, he decided, since he still had some time to think about it. He parked the van and went into the hotel. Nadia and Dixon were in the lobby waiting for him, so he started walking toward them. Nadia looked as if nothing had ever happened. Dixon was telling her a story, something about one of his missions with Syd, and Nadia’s clear laugh echoed off the walls.
Dixon chuckled fondly, “Yeah, she just refused to jump! And by this time, it was way too late to go back or change her mind, so I had to push her . . . She wouldn’t even look at me for days.” He turned to Vaughn, “Vaughn. Good job with the mission today. Look, there’s a really bad thunderstorm coming, and Sloane’s recommending that we stay here for the night and head home tomorrow.” Smiling again, to Nadia, “Looking out for his daughter.”
Nadia retuned the smile, and he could tell how excited she was to have her father. He was glad for her, that acknowledging Sloane as her father had been so easy. He was still wrestling with the fact that his father might be alive, and that people who called themselves family friends were saying that he’d been a follower of Rambaldi. Accepting that his father may not have been the man he’d claimed to be when Vaughn was a child was really hard. He was sure it would come with time, but right now, he was pretty overwhelmed.
Dixon was smiling at him. “Sloane says the Agency’s paying. So go ahead. We could all use the rest.”
Vaughn nodded; and he, Nadia and Dixon checked in, got their keys and headed to their rooms. Vaughn was still mostly lost in his own thoughts, worry about Nadia’s condition and confusion over his father’s identity vying for precedence in his mind. She really did seem fine, now. As they walked up the stairs, she was still chattering to Dixon, trying to drag as many embarrassing Syd stories as she could out of him. He was resisting valiantly, but Vaughn could tell that the excitement shining in her eyes was wearing him down.
He got to his room first, and stopped to unlock his door. He said goodnight to the two of them, who said a quick goodnight in return, continuing on with a story about Syd trying to master a Portuguese accent. He’d have to ask Syd about that story when he got home. It sounded good. Of course, Syd would probably be annoyed with Dixon for bringing it up, but she’d get over it. And really, he could use a good laugh.
Opening the door, he let himself into his room, closing and locking the door behind him. Without even bothering to turn the light on, he kicked off his shoes and wandered over to the bed, flopping down on top of the covers inelegantly. The heat in the room was oppressive, and he didn’t have the energy to do much else. Falling asleep should have been a difficulty for him tonight, since he had so many worries running through his head, but exhaustion and the heavy atmosphere combined to knock him out before he knew what was happening, and he quickly fell asleep.
Sometime in the night, he was awakened by a knock at the door. Not really anxious, but always prepared, he took his gun - which he had forgotten to set aside when he’d fallen asleep, he’d been even more tired than he’d thought - turned on a lamp, and went to the door. He looked through the peep hole in the door, and saw Nadia standing on the other side. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, she had the envelope in her hand, and she was shifting from foot to foot nervously. He supposed that she was coming to ask him not to tell her father what had happened in the field today. Sighing, he went and put the gun down on the table next to the bed, and opened the door.
“Nadia, what is it?” he asked, but she shook her head, frowning.
“Not out here. May I come in? I’ll only be a few minutes.” She looked really upset. Vaughn knew that he probably didn’t want to hear whatever it was that she had to say.
“Sure,” he replied, “Come in.” He waved her into the room and she closed the door behind her. It was probably inappropriate, but he didn’t care that much. She was his girlfriend’s little sister, and he owed her whatever help he could give. Surely he could ignore the way her clothes clung to her body in the heat for just a couple of minutes.
Spreading her hands in front of her, she lowered her eyes and said, “I guess I owe you an explanation for what happened today.”
He shrugged. “You made it out, Nadia, that’s what’s important. Maybe you should just take a break from field work for a while -“
“That’s not it,” she interrupted, “It’s not like that. These papers, they’re your father’s. Look at them.” She held the envelope out for his inspection. He opened it and took out the top page of the document, and she was right. The pages were written in a thick, loopy hand that he didn’t recognize, but his father’s name was printed at the top, in the right-hand corner, in his characteristic block script.
He nodded. “It’s not all my father’s handwriting. Just the top. What is it, did he have an accomplice who -“
“It’s not an accomplice’s handwriting, Vaughn!” she burst out, her face twisting in anguish. “It’s mine. I wrote those pages, when I was about seven years old. That’s why I was so frightened - when I saw the pages, I remembered . . .”
This didn’t make any sense to him. Brill had said that his father had helped to take Nadia away from the people who had tortured her when she was a child. He put the envelope down.
“Nadia . . .” he said, gently placing a hand on her arm, “What did he do to you? My father.”
She flinched away from his touch and went to sit on the bed, taking a shuddering breath before beginning to speak in a low monotone.
“I don’t remember much, I was so young. But there were men, and they took me away from somewhere dark and scary. I stayed with them for a long time, maybe a year or two? They taught me to speak English - I couldn’t talk at all when I first came to stay with them - and they were starting to give me lessons in other subjects. But there was one man; he must have been your father. He had . . . a symbol on his hand. That symbol Anna Espinosa had, the one she burned into my skin. Sometimes, when the others weren’t there, he would take me into another room and inject me, like my father did, but he didn’t want the equations. He wanted the pictures, the visions. He rewarded me for doing well, but if I resisted, he could be so cruel. I was terrified of him. One day, another of the men came home while he was making me write, and there was a big fight. The second man came back and said that I had to go away now, to somewhere where I would be safe, and he brought me to the orphanage.”
Vaughn felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. How could the man he had worshipped as a child have done this to another human being, let alone a defenseless little girl? When Nadia had been seven, how old would he have been, seventeen? The memory of his mother at his graduation, telling him how proud his father would have been of him if only he could have seen this day combined with the mental image of his father slapping a sobbing little girl and snapping at her to draw the pictures this time; and it made him nauseous.
Nadia still sat on the bed, immobile, her head lowered so that her dark hair spilled across her face. He went and tentatively sat down next to her.
“Nadia . . .” he said, at a loss for words. What could he say to heal the pain his father had inflicted on her?
She tensed when he sat next to her, but she made no effort to move away. After a moment, she turned to face him. Looking up at him, her wide, brown eyes filled with tears. Her lower lip trembled, and his stomach twisted with guilt. The sins of the fathers . . .
“Vaughn,” she finally whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Nadia . . . You don’t need to be sorry, it’s my father who hurt you, who has caused nearly all the suffering in your life. It’s me that should be sorry, Nadia, and I am. So, so sorry.”
“No,” she replied, reaching to cover one of his hands with hers, “I mean that I’m sorry about your father. I remember how difficult it was to me to come to terms with what my father had done to - to my sister, and I haven’t known him for all of my life like you have with yours. It must be terribly painful . . .”
“How can you be so understanding?” he asked her. “How can you look at me, without seeing him, the memories of what he did to you?”
“Vaughn,” she chided gently, “You know as well as I do, maybe better, that we are not our parents. You’re a good man, I really believe that. You would never hurt me, would you?”
Looking into those liquid brown eyes, so deep like her sister’s, yet full of a hope Syd hadn’t exhibited in a long time, he felt something snap, something that he’d thought he had buried far enough down in his soul that he’d never think of it again. Nadia was so beautiful, and full of life. She should never have to suffer again.
His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Of course not, Nadia. Never. I could never, ever hurt you.”
She smiled at that and reached up to touch his cheek. He found himself wishing that he’d bothered to shave.
“Then you’re nothing like him,” she informed him. “I should go. Get some sleep before the flight home tomorrow. Thank you for listening.”
She leaned toward him to kiss his cheek, and that’s when the line that had been blurring since he met her was finally completely erased. His lips were on hers, and his hands were moving into her hair. Nadia’s eyes widened and she made a sound of surprise into his mouth, but she didn’t make any attempt to disengage. She opened her mouth to his, and it hadn’t been like this with Syd since Lauren’s death, and he was almost dizzy with need.
This was bad, it was wrong, his mind screamed at him, and he could feel her heart beating through the warm skin under his hands. When had her shirt come off? Didn’t matter, it was gone, and then everything was gone, and oh God, he thought, she’s just a kid, she’s twenty-six years old, just a kid . . . She’s Syd’s little sister, he thought, and that was almost enough to stop him, but by then she was lying on the bed and begging please, please in a delirious mixture of English and Spanish, and thoughts of Sydney faded away.
Afterward, there was a strange awkwardness between them. They lay together in silence, listening to the rain beat against the windows, trying to find words to express what had just happened, and what they should do now. Both of them had someone else back home, he was dating her sister, and she’d been seeing his best friend. What were they going to tell them? Maybe they should just pretend that nothing had ever happened. Finally, he dropped a kiss to her shoulder, built up his courage, and decided to be the first one to speak.
“Nadia, this - what happened tonight - it was - “
Nadia rolled over, facing away from him.
“Don’t, please . . .” she whispered, “Not tonight. Can we let this just be for a while before we try and analyze it? I don’t know what to do, either, and I know what you’re going to say, and I can’t do this, not tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Nadia - “
“You said you’d never hurt me, but you did,” she said bitterly to the window.
When he woke up the next morning, she was gone, though her scent lingered in the room. She had taken the envelope with her when she’d gone, he noticed. He climbed out of bed and got dressed, wondering if he would ever become accustomed to this new weight of guilt on his shoulders. He had hurt Nadia, he had wronged Syd, and that was something that he could never forgive himself for. Syd had told him that she feared that he would betray her, and he had, just like she’d thought.
He spent the rest of the day trying to avoid Nadia’s eyes, in order to evade the accusation that lurked within them.
You said you’d never hurt me, but you did.