In The End
At night, when I was little I used make my mom hold my hand and walk me down the dark hallway to go to the bathroom. Sometimes I would cry for hours while waiting for her to come and get me, at times wetting the bed if she didn't come soon enough. I would do anything but walk down that hallway at night. If I asked Bartnett she would probably say that I was suffering from some kind of posttraumatic stress disorder. However, the truth is that I was just afraid of the dark.
If anybody had known that little boy back then, they would never connect him with me now. Solid, stable, reliable Vaughn. A fountain of good ideas for Kendal, a friend to bounce jokes off of for Weiss, and a shoulder to cry on for Sydney. They tell me that I do my job well. Being a sturdy field agent, good handler, and most of all a contribution from Sydney got me a promotion from junior officer.
But as I lie here at three o'clock in the morning listening to the rain, waiting for her to call to tell me she is back from Havana, I know that they can't tell me that I'm anything but that scared little boy who needed his mom's hand to walk to the bathroom at night.