The End

A/N: I have already posted some of this story, but since then I've revised and added so much that I thought I'd just re-post it. As a side note -- This story is set about ten years in the future, which would put them all in their early 40's. AND this is also a little AU. Will finds out Sydney is a spy under different circumstances and they never slept together in S3. Why? Because it suited me to change it and I never really liked that they slept together.

Part 1

"Oh, God."I stood there with my hands at my side. She was propped up against the concrete wall but her arms and head hung like the appendages of a loose marionette doll. Her hair covered all but the smallest portion of her face so I couldn't see if she had died in surprise, terror, or unknowing oblivion. She was barefoot.

"Sydney." I couldn't breathe. I just couldn't breathe. I was choking on every breath. I went to her side and reached out to touch her face, but I hesitated, not wanting to see. Because then it'd all be real. Then I'd know she was dead. Oh, God. For the first time since we'd met I didn't want to touch her.

I did though. With the tips of my fingers I combed the hair aside from her face. Her eyes were closed. Blood had been dripping from the corner of her mouth, soaking her jumper. I wiped the blood away from her mouth with my shirtsleeve. I touched her bruised cheek. It was still somewhat warm.

Then I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. I panicked and pulled Sydney's body to my chest. I don't know why I did it but I needn't have worried. In the next moment Vaughn and Jack came crashing into the room. I had forgotten that they were following behind me.

"We were too late," was all I could say.

I know it's selfish, but I can't remember anything else about the next few minutes. I couldn't tell you how Jack or Vaughn reacted though I'm sure it was with considerable sorrow and pain. All I could think about, to tell the truth, was Sydney and how I just didn't know how I could go on without her.There was no need to keep the cause of her death a secret but all the same her official CIA eulogizer spoke nothing of it and we were admonished to only speak of Sydney's life in the most generalist of terms. I had asked Jack if I could say something and as I stood up in front of the private congregation I felt like a smaller version of myself. "Sydney and I met at UCLA fifteen years ago. I remember thinking how much I'd like to know her. All those years ago I never expected to find such a good friend in her. Such a faithful friend. She was my best friend." I paused, just those few words already almost too much to bear as the bite of an unseasonably cold wind swept through the cemetery. "I believe that mankind is ultimately good, but I'm frequently disappointed to find people whose souls have been darkened by the harshness of the world. By the darkness in others. Sydney was one of the few people I had ever known to fight so fiercely against that darkness of soul. She fought not only for herself but also for those she loved. And we all loved her for it." I made eye contact with Jack. And then Vaughn. Suddenly it didn't matter anymore that she had loved him and not me. "I loved her for it. I'm not sure how she'd have us remember her, which is funny when you think about it. People always assume that they know these things. But I know how I will remember her: I will remember Sydney Bristow as a strong human being. I will remember Sydney as a compassionate woman. I will remember her as a faithful friend. I will remember her as the best person I've ever known."

I stepped down from the podium and went to the casket. The logic in me knew that it was only Sydney's body in there but as I touched the dark finish of the wood I couldn't help but feel a strong inclination to rip open the lid and shake her. I wanted to make her come back.

But I didn't. Instead I just laid the flower I had been holding on top of the casket and walked back to my seat.