Moments

Author: Pharo

Disclaimer: 'Alias' belongs to J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot, Touchstone, and ABC.

Summary: Sydney wants to quit.

Spoilers: Up to and including "The Box (1)".

Feedback: pharo@onebox.com

'we always say, it would be good to go away someday, but if there's nothing there to make things change, if it's the same for you, I'll just hang…' ---Matchbox Twenty, 'Hang'

There are moments in the course of your life that change you forever. They make you step out of yourself and look at the world around you. They make you question things---who you are, what is real---the deep thoughts that people don't really like to think about.

No one knows when these moments are going to come. There's no sure way to tell if it'll be today or tomorrow, a week from now, years later, or in the next twenty seconds. There's no clock, no calendar, to tell you that the moment is approaching. There are no warnings and no way to pick up the first signs of a moment. They arrive unexpectedly and force you to deal.

In a way, moments are like people. Both come and drop something so heavy on you that you feel you're going to drown and then leave you to confront the repercussions. Some handle it better than others do.

I think I handled my mother's betrayal pretty well. I told Vaughn that I quit.

"I'm going to ask you how you're doing in about thirty seconds. I know you hear about a million times a day and after a while, it doesn't even matter how you're feeling because 'fine' automatically comes to your mouth. I want to know the real way you're feeling so that you'll never have to hear it from me again. So, how are you doing?" he asked.

I smiled at him and said that I quit. He told me I couldn't, as if I was asking him permission to stop what I'm doing.

"Sydney, you can't just 'quit' a job like ours. It's for life," he said.

"Fine, I'll call in sick," I said.

"For how long?"

At that exact moment, my pager started beeping. '911-Sloane.' I threw it straight at a wall and that was the end of that. Second one in the last four months.

"Until I decide to stop answering," I said before I walked away.

Now, I'm just sitting here and thinking about moments. I can't go past my bedside table without thinking of Danny…without seeing him everywhere. Every time I shut my eyes, I see his face. I see it contorted in pain, calling out to me, wondering what is going on. I see it and I can't make it go away. Every time I open my eyes, I see him in front of me. I see him and think that maybe everything up until now has been some horrible nightmare. I think that maybe this time, he might be real and not some figment of my imagination. I reach out to touch him and he disappears. Some days, it's not as bad. Like some mornings, I wake up, and for about five seconds I'm ok. Then, I feel a wall crashing into me and it comes back.

And now, on top of everything, I have this thing with my mother. It feels like I'm going to break at any moment. I look around me and the world is still moving. People are going about their daily business and acting as if nothing happened. How can they go on when I can't? Why can't I move and take some type of control over my life? Why do I feel like I'm stuck watching in from the outside with no hope of entering into that world? I think I'm completely messed up all because of some stupid card. To this day, I still have that card. It's a little worn, kind of like me.

I should've known not to call back the day that man came to me. It was a nice and sunny day—the kind of days when nothing should go wrong, but something always does. He came and brought the darkness with him. He stepped in front of me—blocked out all the light—and gave me the card.

"Why me?" I had asked.

"You fit a profile," he said ambiguously before leaving.

It was probably my mother's profile. They knew that she was a cold-hearted killer, but I didn't. I only knew that she was mother, the lady who sang to me when I was sick and seemed perfect in every way.

Ring. The machine can get it. It's probably for Francie, anyway.

"Syd, pick up. Come on, I know you're there. Pick up."

Doesn't he know that leaving messages on answering machines is dangerous?

"What the hell are you doing calling my house and leaving a message on my machine?" I ask angrily into the receiver.

"Pick up next time and I won't have to," Vaughn says softly.

Immediately, I feel bad about blowing up on him. He didn't do anything wrong. He's also a victim---oh, how I hate that word. Victim goes together with murderer. Murderer goes with Mom. With Mom goes my world.

"Sorry. I'm kind of---"

"Stressed, yeah. I was hoping you had some time to think about it."

"Vaughn, I don't want to be a superhero."

"Sydney," he says with determination. "You know that you can't quit."

I sigh. Yeah, I know. Of course, I know. I'd be stupid if I didn't know. I know so much that I spent hours at night thinking about how much I can't quit, even if I want to.

"I want to disappear. I want to sink under the covers of my bed and have no one ever find me again. I want you to make it disappear and I know you're going to tell me that you can't, but just lie to me, Vaughn. Just lie."

"It'll all be over tomorrow when you wake up."

I smile.

"For a guy who lies for a living, you're a very bad liar."

"You know, some people have told me that," he jokes.

I almost felt like a normal girl having a normal conversation for a second there.

"We should run away. Just hop in a car and drive on till we reach the horizon."

My eyes fall on the picture frame he gave me for Christmas. I walk over to it---thanks to cordless phones---and pick it up.

"I, uh, liked the gift."

"What gift?" he asks.

"The frame. Yeah, I know, it's been almost a month since you gave it to me, but, I didn't get a chance to tell you."

"Well, I'm glad you liked it."

I look at the picture I put in it and realize there's one more thing that I forgot to burn.

"You know what the funny thing is? It took me like an hour just to decide what picture to put in it. There were two pictures, both the same size, both taken incredibly well, and I couldn't decide which I wanted in there: the one I took with my dad or the one I took with my mom." My voice starts to shake and I feel the tears getting ready to spill.

"Don't do this to yourself…"

"And the funny thing is, I decided to go with my mother because I thought my father was such a horrible person. I thought, 'How can I have a picture of someone who is so deceptive on my mantel?' And guess what? I was wrong. I---"

"Sydney, stop. You didn't know nor did you have any way of knowing."

Ding-dong.

"Someone's at the door, hold on," I say, wiping my tears as I make my way to the door. I peer through the little hole and see Francie loaded with groceries. "Vaughn, I have to go. Francie's home."

"Alright. If you need anything, you know, just call."

"If there are any more tear-fests, I'll be sure to call you."

"Sydney, I'm serious. Anything."

"I will."

Ding-dong.

I put the phone on the table and let Francie in.

"What's wrong?" she asks as soon as she comes in.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just found out some stuff about someone that I wasn't expecting."

"Anyone I know?"

"Someone at work. I don't think I even knew her."

"Are you ok?" she asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"You know you should really quit that job of yours. Causes too much grief."

"It's not that bad when you get used to it."

I'll stick around for a little longer. Maybe Vaughn and I can retire together after the SD-6 takedown and take that road trip to the horizon after all. The time will come eventually and then we'll have our moment.