“The First Day of June”
Alias
Written for the Heroine Ficathon
Requested by: anythingbutgrey, who wanted Lauren
Ship: Lauren/Vaughn
Setting: post-Resurrection
Rating: R
Summary: “Does your memory stray / To a bright summer day / When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?”—“Are You Lonesome Tonight?” by Elvis Presley
The hand on her face is cold.
She opens to her eyes slowly. Everything hurts.
“Lalinka.” The soft voice drifts over her. “Laklinka, my poor, Lalinka.”
She recognizes the deep Russian accent. She almost wants to turn away from her aunt Kayta. Why hadn’t Kayta let her die?
“How do you feel?” Kayta continues to stroke her niece’s face.
“I don’t feel anything,” Lauren says.
Kayta smiles. “Good.”
**
“Grow old with me.” It was the first day of June when Michael said that to Lauren.
It was the first time it occurred to her that this marriage would indeed be for the rest of her life.
Forever.
**
When she thinks about it, she realizes that she does miss him. What she misses most is the rough stubble on his face. The way it scratches her pale sensitive skin. The way it rubs across her lips, across her soft chin, down her neck until it rests on her chest. The way it feels in her hands as she cradles his face.
And she misses standing in the bathroom doorway watching him shave. His fingers moving in a circular motion as he covers his cheeks and chin with the white shaving cream. His hands as they move in swift movements, up and down, left and right, until his face is smooth again.
It’ll grow back, she thinks.
He sees her standing behind him and offers her a small smile through the mirror. He holds out his hand. She takes it and follows him into the shower.
**
His skin is too soft. She recoils from him.
“What’s wrong?”
She touches his face hesitantly. “Nothing.”
**
She has scarred him and he has scarred her.
The only difference is that she can see her wounds.
The stitches on her body ricochet all over. She traces them when she’s awake. She traces them when she’s asleep.
A month passes. She thinks she is strong enough.
“Where are you going?” Katya asks when she sees Lauren on her feet.
“To see my husband,” says Lauren.
**
The first thing she thinks about is killing him. Then her.
The second thing she thinks about is making love to him.
**
She’s supposed to be dead. In a way, she is. Her body is damaged. Her spirit is shattered. And of course, her heart is broken.
Her hands can still assemble a sniper rifle in less than ten seconds.
That’s all that matters.
**
When he goes to work, she enters their home. There’s a new scent there. Light and floral. Her vanilla scent has been erased. There are no pictures up. Wedding, picnics, reunions—all gone. She has been erased.
In their bedroom, she sees that the closet is filled with his suits. And hers.
Their bed is even different. The sheets have been changed. There is a long strand of dark hair on her side of the bed.
She sits down, unable to control the flash of memories.
**
He’s grading papers. He seems to like this new job at the
university. But she knows he’s not truly happy. He would rather be on an
assignment in Asia, or trailing a fugitive in
But no. He’s grading a pop quiz from his Introductory to French class.
She sits down next to him on the bed. “Flunk anyone yet?”
He rubs his forehead. “Surprisingly, no. I guess my kids are actually paying attention in class.”
“Your kids.” She smiles.
“You know, Lauren…”
She knows the tone in his voice. He gets like this a lot when he talks about his students.
He clears his throat. “When we have children…”
“Michael…”
“No, let me finish.” He puts aside the quizzes and takes her hand. “When we have children, I want them to be safe.” He inhales deeply. “That’s why I’m not going back to the Agency.”
“I support whatever decision you want to make,” she says.
“Well, that’s my decision,” he says. “I want to spend every moment I can with you.” He leans over to kiss her. “Nothing will ever make me want to go back.”
Except for Sydney Bristow. But she will not know that. He won’t either. Not until much later.
That night when Michael is sleeping, she goes out to the porch and dials a number on her cell phone.
“I need more time,” she says.
Her contact in the Covenant understands.
**
Sitting on the bed now, all she can feel is disgust. She wants to kick his head in. She wants to stab him and watch him bleed to death.
She wants to kiss him and feel his stubble against her tired face.
**
It’s almost
The bedroom door opens. His hand reaches for the light switch, but he suddenly stops as if he can already tell she’s there. His hand retracts from the wall and into his holster.
She lets him draw his gun. Hers is already raised.
They stand in the dark. A sliver of moonlight creeps in through the window blinds. She steps into the beam and sees that he isn’t the least surprised to see her.
Neither one of them speak.
In sickness or in
health
They just look.
For richer or for
poorer
Their guns pointed at each other.
Til death do us part
She smiles a genuine smile. “Did you miss me, sweetheart?”
**