Summary: That's how it became Sydney and Eric breaking protocol. SWeiss.
AU. 1/1
Rating: PG-13 due to mature situations
Spoilers: post-Season 3, but mostly just AU
Author's note: This is my first piece ever. Review if you want to. Just to make it clear, I don't condone cutting or any self-mutilating behavior. If you do it, please get help.
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Alias.
How It Happened
This whole new beautiful life started when he found her. More precisely, it started when he found her out. It had been months since she moved in next door, months since they started having dinner together whenever the irregular office hours didn't prevent it. It had been a month and a half since she replaced the Weiss who was "just a conduit to Vaughn" (in his own words) with the real Eric.
Eric didn't always make jokes to avoid talking about deep subjects. Eric didn't always suggest beer and pizza as the best way to unwind. Eric knew how to pick out wine; he could cook; he sang opera, as long as there was music already playing.
Sydney was entranced by this new discovery. It was as though she had gotten a new toy and wanted to play with it all the time. But soon work prevented that. So their daily dinner discussions faded to once a week, or whenever they could. She got pulled farther into the mystery of her old identity. Their connection grew too burdensome to maintain. And it hurt her. It really did. The combination of unremembered experiences and the constant contact with Vaughn took their toll on her. She was fading fast.
Which is how big, strong Sydney ended up in her bathroom, night after night, scraping one of her brand new butcher's knives over her arm. Breathlessly, she dug the blade as far in as she could stand, over and over again. The results, sadly, were little more than another skeleton to stack in the closet and a reason for her not to wear short sleeves.
It was hard for her to come to terms with, at first. She had never been the type to resort to self-destructive behavior to avoid pain. But when the blinding tears were not enough to distract her, and she just wanted release, cutting did it. That is, until Eric walked in on her (when she was sobbing so hard she could barely make out the paths of red on her arm to guide the knife). That was the first time she ever heard him yell at her.
Apparently, one of his good friends in college had been a cutter. He knew what it meant and he knew what to do. He took her knife away, sat her down and forced her to talk. This was an Eric that had never appeared to her before. He took control of her, and wouldn't let her brush it off with jokes or unconcern. So she gave in. She talked to him until just before the sun rose. He scared her out of trying to kill the pain that way by telling her how hard it was for "Lisa" to stop once she got started. Eric told her all about addictive behavior, and how pain is one of the hardest drugs to quit. She thought he should have been a counselor.
He started to build her back up again, a new and different Sydney who didn't need Vaughn, and who had more in her life than a missing history and time-consuming job. And then she fell asleep in his arms. That was the night that everything changed. Because as he was built her back up, he added a little of himself that she would never be able to remove.
Eventually, they made a silent agreement never to speak about Vaughn during their dinners together. They talked about more important things. She started to realize that he was the only person she could talk to about absolutely everything. And, because that's how her mind works, she started to feel something more for him.
One night, they were watching Casablanca after dinner. She had been to Prague, Nairobi and Moldova in one week and emptied as many clips as she usually used in a month. She was sore everywhere, and teased him into giving her a massage (which, she had soon discovered, he was excellent at). And somehow, the combination of a black-and-white movie, her exhaustion and his warm hands were enough to overwhelm her. She just crawled into his arms and fell asleep as the tears fell. He let her stay there until the credits were rolling.
"Syd, I need to go home now. My apartment. You know, where I live," he mumbled into her hair. She slightly shifted, but refused to wake up. "Syd, I can't do this. I can't have you fall asleep in my arms."
"But why?"
"Because that's not how it works. I'm the best friend, Syd, and the girl never goes for the best friend in real life. And I can't take it. I can't take meaning so little to you, of all people."
Which is when she woke up. And stared, shocked, into the eyes of someone who thought he was nothing more to her than the man he used to be. And, because she couldn't think of any words that were good enough for him, she kissed him. Slowly. Then whispered,
"I love you"
into his neck. Then she closed his arms around her and felt safer than she ever had with anyone else.
And that's how it happened. That's how it became Sydney and Eric breaking protocol (until together, they found every single one and stopped Sloane's nightmare). That's how it became Sydney and Eric holding hands in the park until she started dripping ice cream down her arm, and he stopped to lick it off. That's how he bought her an ugly sweater and she kissed him (in spite of it, or maybe because of it) until their clothes were on the floor. That's how Sydney stopped the painfully reflective bubble baths and started taking showers, with him, to relax. That's how she actually quit the CIA, how they spent early Saturday mornings walking, then watching cartoons entwined in each other. That's how she bought him a fish, how she moved with him to Santa Clara, how she watched him sing for his sister's kids and that's how Sydney just knew that it was Eric. So, despite their heated arguments over how he wouldn't clean up the bathroom and whether Vaughn and Lauren should be invited for the weekend and the nights she disappeared to the beach to find herself again, that's how he gave her the ring. That's how he stumbled over his less than poetic words, and how she slipped it on her finger and kissed him before he was finished.
Jack was solemnly proud, and told her "Yes, this one is good enough. Almost." His tired hair and cavernous wrinkles and stifled tears walked with her down the aisle. And at last, a future worth dreaming about stood waiting for her at the end.
End.
Rating: PG-13 due to mature situations
Spoilers: post-Season 3, but mostly just AU
Author's note: This is my first piece ever. Review if you want to. Just to make it clear, I don't condone cutting or any self-mutilating behavior. If you do it, please get help.
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Alias.
How It Happened
This whole new beautiful life started when he found her. More precisely, it started when he found her out. It had been months since she moved in next door, months since they started having dinner together whenever the irregular office hours didn't prevent it. It had been a month and a half since she replaced the Weiss who was "just a conduit to Vaughn" (in his own words) with the real Eric.
Eric didn't always make jokes to avoid talking about deep subjects. Eric didn't always suggest beer and pizza as the best way to unwind. Eric knew how to pick out wine; he could cook; he sang opera, as long as there was music already playing.
Sydney was entranced by this new discovery. It was as though she had gotten a new toy and wanted to play with it all the time. But soon work prevented that. So their daily dinner discussions faded to once a week, or whenever they could. She got pulled farther into the mystery of her old identity. Their connection grew too burdensome to maintain. And it hurt her. It really did. The combination of unremembered experiences and the constant contact with Vaughn took their toll on her. She was fading fast.
Which is how big, strong Sydney ended up in her bathroom, night after night, scraping one of her brand new butcher's knives over her arm. Breathlessly, she dug the blade as far in as she could stand, over and over again. The results, sadly, were little more than another skeleton to stack in the closet and a reason for her not to wear short sleeves.
It was hard for her to come to terms with, at first. She had never been the type to resort to self-destructive behavior to avoid pain. But when the blinding tears were not enough to distract her, and she just wanted release, cutting did it. That is, until Eric walked in on her (when she was sobbing so hard she could barely make out the paths of red on her arm to guide the knife). That was the first time she ever heard him yell at her.
Apparently, one of his good friends in college had been a cutter. He knew what it meant and he knew what to do. He took her knife away, sat her down and forced her to talk. This was an Eric that had never appeared to her before. He took control of her, and wouldn't let her brush it off with jokes or unconcern. So she gave in. She talked to him until just before the sun rose. He scared her out of trying to kill the pain that way by telling her how hard it was for "Lisa" to stop once she got started. Eric told her all about addictive behavior, and how pain is one of the hardest drugs to quit. She thought he should have been a counselor.
He started to build her back up again, a new and different Sydney who didn't need Vaughn, and who had more in her life than a missing history and time-consuming job. And then she fell asleep in his arms. That was the night that everything changed. Because as he was built her back up, he added a little of himself that she would never be able to remove.
Eventually, they made a silent agreement never to speak about Vaughn during their dinners together. They talked about more important things. She started to realize that he was the only person she could talk to about absolutely everything. And, because that's how her mind works, she started to feel something more for him.
One night, they were watching Casablanca after dinner. She had been to Prague, Nairobi and Moldova in one week and emptied as many clips as she usually used in a month. She was sore everywhere, and teased him into giving her a massage (which, she had soon discovered, he was excellent at). And somehow, the combination of a black-and-white movie, her exhaustion and his warm hands were enough to overwhelm her. She just crawled into his arms and fell asleep as the tears fell. He let her stay there until the credits were rolling.
"Syd, I need to go home now. My apartment. You know, where I live," he mumbled into her hair. She slightly shifted, but refused to wake up. "Syd, I can't do this. I can't have you fall asleep in my arms."
"But why?"
"Because that's not how it works. I'm the best friend, Syd, and the girl never goes for the best friend in real life. And I can't take it. I can't take meaning so little to you, of all people."
Which is when she woke up. And stared, shocked, into the eyes of someone who thought he was nothing more to her than the man he used to be. And, because she couldn't think of any words that were good enough for him, she kissed him. Slowly. Then whispered,
"I love you"
into his neck. Then she closed his arms around her and felt safer than she ever had with anyone else.
And that's how it happened. That's how it became Sydney and Eric breaking protocol (until together, they found every single one and stopped Sloane's nightmare). That's how it became Sydney and Eric holding hands in the park until she started dripping ice cream down her arm, and he stopped to lick it off. That's how he bought her an ugly sweater and she kissed him (in spite of it, or maybe because of it) until their clothes were on the floor. That's how Sydney stopped the painfully reflective bubble baths and started taking showers, with him, to relax. That's how she actually quit the CIA, how they spent early Saturday mornings walking, then watching cartoons entwined in each other. That's how she bought him a fish, how she moved with him to Santa Clara, how she watched him sing for his sister's kids and that's how Sydney just knew that it was Eric. So, despite their heated arguments over how he wouldn't clean up the bathroom and whether Vaughn and Lauren should be invited for the weekend and the nights she disappeared to the beach to find herself again, that's how he gave her the ring. That's how he stumbled over his less than poetic words, and how she slipped it on her finger and kissed him before he was finished.
Jack was solemnly proud, and told her "Yes, this one is good enough. Almost." His tired hair and cavernous wrinkles and stifled tears walked with her down the aisle. And at last, a future worth dreaming about stood waiting for her at the end.
End.