Title: "Wonderland"
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "Alias"
Rating/Classification: PG, Weiss, angst.
Disclaimer: Bad Robot!
Summary: Set after 3.3. Sydney got him in the divorce.
"Weiss...? What...? What are these?"
"They're...uh...fortune cookies."
"Well, I see that...but...but why do you have so many?"
"I was saving them. For you."
"Wh-what?"
"We...Mike and Dixon and your father and I...we...we had a lot of take-out those first few months. Late nights. And...and I've always had this thing...you only take the cookie that's pointing at you. That's your fortune. And...and there was always a cookie that pointed where nobody was sitting. So...um...yeah. They were yours."
"There must be fifty cookies in here!"
"I stopped...um...after the first six months. You know."
"Will you help me read the fortunes?"
"I was counting on it."
***
He's not sure how it happened, but, somehow, Sydney got him in the divorce.
Not that there *was* a divorce. Just a dead-and-back-from-the-dead kind of thing with epic awkward silences...but the feeling was the same. And they compartmentalized. Divvied up memories and belongings and alliances. Mike and Lauren got the dog and Sydney got him.
It has to be a cop-out. All Donovan does is wag his tail and pant and stare up at Dad and his new Mommy with big sappy eyes. He doesn't care what's going on in his life as long as he gets a Milkbone and a good scratching behind the ears. Weiss...well...he's never in his life given big sappy eyes to anybody.
Until now. And he does things like bringing bottles of tequila to Syd's new place, doing shooters with her until neither of them can see straight and it doesn't matter how many blurry elephants there are in the room. He goes looking in corner Mom-and-Pop bookstores for allegorical children's stories and feels like he's the one who just fell down the rabbit hole instead of her.
***
"What in the world are you listening to?"
"I don't know...some hip-hop group with a number in their name."
"Marshall's mix c.d.? Is it...is it really supposed to trigger something in you?"
"Besides the urge for some fancy dance moves and break-away pants? I really don't know, Weiss..."
"Do you...do you *want* to be triggered?"
"I lost two YEARS. Of course I do. It's...it's the only thing keeping me going."
"The only thing?"
***
Mike never told him how good she smells. In the world of all-inclusive guy talk, it was one of those details that never came up and he understands why...because there's no way to describe it. That faint wisp of something that isn't perfume but can't possibly just be skin. Even with two years away, she hasn't lost it...and when he hugs her close and she leans... yes, leans...on his shoulder...he inhales and remembers nearly dying.
He wonders if this is the way it's supposed to be.
He gets Mike's old job. The field operations. The handling.
And he gets Mike's old girlfriend. The smiles. The laughs. The shadows.
He's in the little room with the bottle that says "Drink Me" and, it's too late, he's already taken a sip and he's shrinking. So, when she moans, troubled, in her sleep and turns towards him, he's tiny. Almost invisible.
Fine by him. He's not entirely sure she sees him anyway.
All in all, he thinks she would've been better off with the dog.
--end-
October 12, 2003.
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "Alias"
Rating/Classification: PG, Weiss, angst.
Disclaimer: Bad Robot!
Summary: Set after 3.3. Sydney got him in the divorce.
"Weiss...? What...? What are these?"
"They're...uh...fortune cookies."
"Well, I see that...but...but why do you have so many?"
"I was saving them. For you."
"Wh-what?"
"We...Mike and Dixon and your father and I...we...we had a lot of take-out those first few months. Late nights. And...and I've always had this thing...you only take the cookie that's pointing at you. That's your fortune. And...and there was always a cookie that pointed where nobody was sitting. So...um...yeah. They were yours."
"There must be fifty cookies in here!"
"I stopped...um...after the first six months. You know."
"Will you help me read the fortunes?"
"I was counting on it."
***
He's not sure how it happened, but, somehow, Sydney got him in the divorce.
Not that there *was* a divorce. Just a dead-and-back-from-the-dead kind of thing with epic awkward silences...but the feeling was the same. And they compartmentalized. Divvied up memories and belongings and alliances. Mike and Lauren got the dog and Sydney got him.
It has to be a cop-out. All Donovan does is wag his tail and pant and stare up at Dad and his new Mommy with big sappy eyes. He doesn't care what's going on in his life as long as he gets a Milkbone and a good scratching behind the ears. Weiss...well...he's never in his life given big sappy eyes to anybody.
Until now. And he does things like bringing bottles of tequila to Syd's new place, doing shooters with her until neither of them can see straight and it doesn't matter how many blurry elephants there are in the room. He goes looking in corner Mom-and-Pop bookstores for allegorical children's stories and feels like he's the one who just fell down the rabbit hole instead of her.
***
"What in the world are you listening to?"
"I don't know...some hip-hop group with a number in their name."
"Marshall's mix c.d.? Is it...is it really supposed to trigger something in you?"
"Besides the urge for some fancy dance moves and break-away pants? I really don't know, Weiss..."
"Do you...do you *want* to be triggered?"
"I lost two YEARS. Of course I do. It's...it's the only thing keeping me going."
"The only thing?"
***
Mike never told him how good she smells. In the world of all-inclusive guy talk, it was one of those details that never came up and he understands why...because there's no way to describe it. That faint wisp of something that isn't perfume but can't possibly just be skin. Even with two years away, she hasn't lost it...and when he hugs her close and she leans... yes, leans...on his shoulder...he inhales and remembers nearly dying.
He wonders if this is the way it's supposed to be.
He gets Mike's old job. The field operations. The handling.
And he gets Mike's old girlfriend. The smiles. The laughs. The shadows.
He's in the little room with the bottle that says "Drink Me" and, it's too late, he's already taken a sip and he's shrinking. So, when she moans, troubled, in her sleep and turns towards him, he's tiny. Almost invisible.
Fine by him. He's not entirely sure she sees him anyway.
All in all, he thinks she would've been better off with the dog.
--end-
October 12, 2003.