A Time For Family

Summary: This was my entry for the November fiction contest at SD-1. Takes place S5-ish assuming 1) the newbies dont exist (cuz i hate them) 2) Nadia was cured from her freakiness 3)Vaughn's alive *somewhere*

A/N: This entry recieved an Honorable Mention in the SD-1 November Challenge

Disclaimer: JJ owns it all, isn't he a lucky guy?

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Sydney groaned as she squatted down in front of her oven and peered inside at the turkey that was slowly beginning to turn golden brown. Cooking definitely wasn’t her thing. “Is it burning?” she wondered aloud.

“Is what burning? Do you need help?!” her sister called from the other room.

“Nadia, you’re supposed to be resting. You’re lucky they let you out of the hospital so early!” Sydney called back to her.

“I am resting, but I’m also trying to help my whale of a sister,” she said, her voice obviously teasing.

“I’m not a whale,” Sydney groaned as she stood up, clutching her immensely rounded belly. “I’m just a slightly oversized cow.”

Nadia laughed. “When’s your due date again?”

“December first,” Sydney told her.

Nadia sighed. “I still cannot believe you’re pregnant.”

Some days, neither can I, Sydney thought. “Yeah,” she laughed softly as she waddled her way into the sitting room where Nadia was on the sofa with a blanket across her lap. “Okay, I’ve got a few minutes.” She grunted as she attempted to sit on the couch, which was becoming more difficult by the day.

“Thank you again for inviting my father, Sydney. I know how... difficult that must have been for you,” Nadia said quietly.

Sydney swallowed hard. The thought of sitting around a table with Arvin Sloane as part of her ‘family’ on Thanksgiving Day made her slightly nauseous, but she was doing it for Nadia’s sake. She knew that Nadia wouldn’t want to spend a holiday apart from her father, especially since she had only returned to the world of the living a few short weeks earlier, but Sydney didn’t want to have a quiet dinner with only her father.

Ever since losing Vaughn, she had decided she needed to cling to all the family she had left, since they had a tendency to vanish quickly; in the blink of an eye. So with that in mind, she had invited her father, Sloane, Dixon and his children, Marshall, Carrie and Mitchell, and even Weiss. The Flinkman clan had turned down her invitation, stating that they would be going to Carrie’s family’s home for the holiday. Everyone else, however, had accepted, even Weiss, who was flying in from DC that morning.

There was a knock at the door and Sydney groaned at the thought of having to get up quickly. But, before she had even managed to slide herself off the sofa, the door burst open. “Cluck, cluck, cluck and HAPPY THANKSGIVING!” Eric grinned.

Nadia and Sydney exchanged glances and laughed loudly. “Eric... what the hell....”

“Oh come on guys... On Christmas, Santa says ‘Ho, ho, ho,’ the turkey’s gotta say somethin’ too.” He grinned at the brilliance of his explanation.

“Yes, but, don’t turkey’s say ‘gobble gobble’? Nadia asked. Weiss’s face fell.

“Eric, you’re insane, but I love you. Now come give the pregnant woman a hand at getting off this sofa!” Sydney exclaimed.

“Gladly... HOLY CRAP Syd, you’re huge!” Weiss exclaimed as he pulled Sydney to her feet.

“Eric!” Nadia scolded.

“She is!” he defended.

Sydney sighed and placed her left hand on her lower back for support. “It’s ok. It’s true!” she sighed woefully. Then, she waddled off towards the kitchen again.

“She’s doing this herself?” Eric asked Nadia quietly. Nadia just shrugged and gave him a ‘well, it is Sydney’ look. Eric laughed softly before kissing her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here.” She smiled.

“Ohh, I see how it is. I’m going to have to transfer back here by the end of the evening, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Well, that was our plan,” Sydney laughed from the kitchen. “After all, the little one needs her Uncle Eric.”

“You haven’t picked out a name yet, Syd? Jeez, you’re going to pop any day now!” he exclaimed.

“Hit him please,” Sydney said.

Nadia reached over and smacked the back of Eric’s head; he recoiled. “She’s got a name, but she’s keeping it a secret,” Nadia explained to him.

“A secret?!” Eric gasped in offense. “From who?!”

“Everyone, but Vaughn,” Sydney told him.

“But Vaughn?!” he asked almost silently to Nadia. “Is she aware he’s dead?”

“ERIC!” Nadia gasped as she smacked him again. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”

“Jeez woman,” he groaned as he rubbed the now sore spot on the back of his head. “Are you sure they got all that crazy juice out of you?” Nadia scowled at him. Eric bolted from the coffee table he had been sitting on. “Hey Syd, you need help in the kitchen?”

“Ummm,” Sydney sighed in a frazzled manner. What didn’t she need help with? The turkey wasn’t done, neither were the potatoes. Everything on the stove needed constant stirring and she looked like a mess. “Could you set the table please?”

“Sure, how many places?” he asked.

Quickly, she counted in her head. “Eight.”

“Eight? Who’s commin’?” Eric asked.

“The three of us, my father, Dixon and his children and Sloane.”

Eric’s head snapped towards her at the mention of the last name. “Sloane!?” he hissed quietly. “You invited Sloane to Thanksgiving dinner?” he asked in utter shock.

Sydney shrugged. “He’s Nadia’s father.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, thank you. I’m just shocked you’re letting him cross the threshold of your humble abode.”

“It’s Thanksgiving Eric,” Sydney said in an almost defeated manner. Eric just nodded and began to gather silverware from the drawer.

Once he was finished, he took over her position at the stove so that Sydney could go and freshen up before the guests arrived. The whole time she was washing her face and fixing the fly-away strands of her hair, she kept thinking about the holidays. Holidays were a time for family; happiness; hope. She had none of that. Sure, she had her father and her sister, and Weiss, and she loved them, but she didn’t have Vaughn.

In an ideal world, the two of them would have sat down together, holding hands, laughing and talking about their upcoming new addition to the world. They would have put the crib up together, shopped for baby clothes together, sat by the fireside and read the mounds of baby books she had purchased together. Together. But they weren’t together. She was all alone.

Sighing, she stroked her expanding belly as she felt it twinge strangely. For a moment, she broke out into a cold sweat, but when it didn’t happen again, she shrugged it off as the Braxton-Hicks contractions she had been having for the past two weeks. She walked from the bathroom and through her bedroom on the way back to the kitchen. On her way, she passed the photograph of Vaughn she had resting on her nightstand. She ran her finger across the top and down one side. “Happy Thanksgiving, Vaughn,” she said quietly, “wherever you are.”

Back out in the kitchen, the pungent smell of burning food was filtering across the house. “ERIC!” Sydney groaned as she tried to hurry.

“I didn’t do anything!” he defended, though there was obviously smoke coming from the stovetop behind him.

“What did you... aww man,” she groaned when she spotted the gravy that had spilled over and was burning onto one of the burners, creating a horrible smell and a black crust along her stove.

Eric looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

Sydney sighed and touched his arm lightly. “It’s alright... just... get the door,” she said when she heard the bell ring a second later. He nodded and walked off.


“Happy Thanksgiving,” Sydney heard Sloane’s voice echo down the hallway. “It’s nice to see you again, Agent Weiss.”

“It’s, um, nice to, um, see you too, Mr. Sloane,” Weiss stammered. “N-Nadia’s in there.”

“Thank you...oh, Sydney, you look lovely. Happy Thanksgiving to you,” Sloane said when he stopped at the kitchen. Sydney looked over her shoulder and gave him a small smile, even though her skin was practically crawling. She knew that for Nadia, she had to try, but there was just something about that man that would always make her skin crawl. Most likely, it was the fact that he had utterly destroyed most of her life and no matter how much he apologized or appeared remorseful, nothing could wipe away that pain and suffering.

A few moments later, her father arrived. He walked in the kitchen and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Can I help you with something?” he offered.

Sydney laughed at the mental image of her father in an apron. “Dad...”

“You’re right, I would only make it worse,” he sighed.

“Go sit down,” she gestured towards the family room. Jack looked warily towards the crew already seated. “Or stay in here.” She smiled.

“Sweetheart, you should be sitting.”

“Can’t sit; not finished,” she told him firmly as she opened up the oven, crouched down and stuck a meat thermometer inside the turkey. “Oh good, it’s finished.”

“Please, let me,” Jack said as he reached for the oven mitts. Sydney reluctantly handed them to him and stood back as he lifted the turkey from the oven to the space she had made for it on top of the stove.

“Thanks,” she smiled at her father while he shut the oven door.

“Of course,” he smiled back.

By the time Dixon and his children arrived, all the food was on the table. Everyone smiled and gave a round of applause when the large turkey was set in the center of the table. Sydney simply laughed and slid down into her seat, clutching her belly, which was still twinging now and then. “We should have a toast,” Sydney said as she picked up her glass of water.

“What should we toast to, aside from the awesome food?” Weiss asked.

“Family,” Sloane said as he looked around the table, letting his eyes linger on his daughter. “Let’s toast to this wonderful family we have here.”

“Here, here,” chorused the seven other people at the table. Then, they began passing plates of food as the chatting and eating continued.


Halfway through the meal, Sydney got up from her seat to refill her glass of water, but as she entered the kitchen, she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She groaned in anguish as she clutched the counter for support. Her glass crashed to the floor and shattered, calling the attention of all those at the table. “Sydney, Sydney are you alright?” Jack asked as he stood, looking extremely concerned. Sydney didn’t speak; Sloane, Weiss and Dixon stood as well. “Sydney?” her father repeated.

She turned to him, a terrified look in her eyes. “I... I think I’m going into labor,” she croaked.

Immediately, Jack rushed to her side and guided her back to one of the chairs at the table. “Take deep breaths,” he instructed, trying desperately to remember the events of Sydney’s birth over thirty years earlier. “Do you think you’re going into labor or are you?”

Her only response was to whimper, clutch her belly and moan as pain shot through her body. It wasn’t so much the pain that got her. She had experienced plenty of pain in the past with numerous bullet and stab wounds, in addition to electroshock and other forms of torture. Instead of pain, it was fear that made her cry.

“Okay, we’re going to the hospital,” Jack said firmly.

“We’ll put this stuff away,” Nadia told them.

“You need to rest,” Sydney grunted through her gritted teeth.

“Sydney, you’re having a baby, the least I can do is put leftovers in the refrigerator,” Nadia sighed.

“We’re not arguing about this now!” Jack said gruffly. “We’re going to the hospital now. Sydney, I’m getting your coat.”


Fifteen minutes later at the hospital, Jack was shouting orders at everyone in sight, taking on the overprotective father/grandfather role in a true Jack Bristow style.

“Dad, please, you’re embarrassing me and yourself,” Sydney groaned as one of the nurses wheeled her into a hospital room. She slipped into the bathroom to change into a hospital gown, thankful to be away from her father for a moment. It was then that the full realization of what was happening hit her. In a few short hours she would have her baby girl. She would be a mother, a single mother.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, tears were sliding down her face. Immediately, Jack rushed to her side and guided her to her bed. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Vaughn... he’s not here,” she choked. “He’s going to miss it.”

Jack sighed heavily and gave his daughter a reassuring hug. “It’s going to be ok Sydney; you’re going to be ok,” he told her. She nodded rather unconvincingly. “Will you be alright by yourself for a few minutes? I need to make a phone call.”

“Okay... can you make sure Weiss isn’t burning my house down?” she sniffed.

“Of course,” Jack told her before slipping from the room.

A nurse walked over to Sydney and smiled at her. “Is this your first?”

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded.

“You’re going to do great. Don’t worry about it,” the nurse told her as she inserted and IV needle into her left hand. Sydney flinched slightly at the prick. No matter how many times she had been shot or injured, she’d never been able to get used to the feeling of needles. It was one thing she just couldn’t stand.

Once the nurse was finished with her IV, she attached a baby monitor to her expanded belly and excused herself, promising a doctor would see her in a few minutes to check on the baby. Sydney sighed and leaned back against her pillow while wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. This was it; she had to do it alone.

For all of her life, she had done everything by herself with no one’s help. She was okay with that; she was good at it. But for the past six years, Vaughn had been there too. She hadn’t always needed him, but she wanted him and if she needed him, he was always there for her. Until now. He wasn’t here and she needed him to be here.

She took a ragged breath and reached for the box of tissues beside her bed, wishing that her father would return.

~*~

Fifteen hours passed. Five frantic mothers and over-excited, panicking fathers had come through her room and gone with their babies, but Sydney was still there. Every time the doctor would come in, he would assure her that it wasn’t much longer, but after fifteen hours, she stopped believing him. Her father had stayed by her side the whole time, nodding off in a chair beside her bed. Sydney had tried to sleep some, since her fifteen hours of labor unfortunately happened overnight, but it was no use. Every time she’d drift off she was either awoken by a contraction or by one of her own nightmares about being a horrible mother.

When the doctor came in to check on her at nine a.m. the following morning, she was exhausted and cranky. “Is it over yet?” she whimpered.

The doctor chuckled softly. “Good news Miss Bristow. We’re going to be taking you to delivery in a few moments now.”

“Really?!” she asked in surprise. Suddenly fifteen hours didn’t seem long enough.

“Yes,” he told her before leaving.

“Dad, Dad!” she called to her sleeping father.

“Wh-what?!” he gasped when he awoke.

“They’re taking me to delivery,” she whimpered. “Dad... Dad I can’t do this.” She shook her head furiously, her hands trembling as she gripped the sides of her bed.

“Sweetheart, yes you can. You can do anything,” Jack assured her.

“No,” she shook her head furiously.

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “Do... do you want me to come?”

Sydney looked over at him and seriously considered it for a moment. But the gross mental image held her back. “No.... no....”

“You mean I have to wait all that time to find out the name of my granddaughter?” he smiled.

Sydney laughed softly, though she was still trembling. “Patience.”

Jack grumbled slightly. “You’ll be alright sweetheart,” he told her as he squeezed her hand when the nurse came in and began to wheel her away.


The delivery room was bright and busy with activity as nurses collected blankets and positioned the baby warmer. Sydney was almost too distracted by the pain of her contractions to notice a tall man standing in the corner, off to the side, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. He was wearing surgical scrubs, a surgical mask and cap tied on his head. Sydney might not have noticed him at all when she scanned across the room, for it was filled with at least ten people, but something about him caught her eye and made her do a double take; piercing green eyes. Eyes she knew; eyes she loved.

For a moment, she was convinced she was hallucinating. This man wasn’t standing there and even if he was, he wasn’t who she thought he was. That was impossible, wasn’t it? Her mind was spinning. Doctors and nurses were talking to her, but she couldn’t hear them. All she could hear were her own thoughts. Her father and his secretive smile at her. Her father made at least six excuses to leave the room and make a phone call during the night. Her father had been anxiously looking at his watch and the two clocks in her hospital room. Had he done this? Was that even possible?

“Va-” for a moment she almost croaked out his name, but the doctor called her attention away.

“Sydney, you’re going to have to push on the next contraction.”

Sydney looked back at the doctor for a moment and nodded in understanding, but then she shot her eyes back to the corner of the room. He was gone and she exhaled a ragged breath, but then she noticed; he was right beside her. She looked up at him and he winked. Her heart nearly exploded.

“Push, Sydney!”

She grunted and tried, but her heart was divided between her duty as a mother and the man standing beside her. Suddenly, there was a strong hand in hers, a hand she had held for six years of her life. All her exhaustion disappeared, her dwindling strength replenished as she squeezed her eyes shut and shouted through the pain.

A high-pitched wailing filled the room and Sydney’s eyes snapped open. In front of her, the doctor was holding up a bright pink screeching infant with a clump of hair on the top of her tiny head. “Here she is!” the doctor announced.

“Oh my god...,” Sydney sobbed. Though her vision was blurry, when she looked up at him, she was sure she saw a tear slide down from his eye and disappear behind the mask covering most of his face. He released her hand, and she rubbed her cheeks before reaching out for her tiny baby girl. “Isabelle... Isabelle,” she repeated.

“Is that her name?” the nurse smiled as she handed Sydney her child. Sydney nodded as she clutched her baby tightly.

“Hey baby... I’m your mommy, Isabelle,” Sydney sniffed. Isabelle’s wailing reduced to a soft whimpering as her mother stroked her arms and face. “I love you so much Isabelle... and so does your Daddy,” she said with an upward glance to him. But he wasn’t there. She looked around the room and didn’t see him, but noticed the door shutting softly. He was gone.

She closed her eyes and rocked Isabelle gently. “It’s okay sweetie, don’t cry,” she told her whimpering daughter. “He’ll be back.”