Disclaimer: don't own Alias....don't remind me
Info: I wrote this a few months back…its short sweet and too the point but I thought that the rest of the world deserved to read another prolific piece of work from my mind: -
Enjoy-
Then The Morning Comes
She didn't know what exactly had happened last night, her memories were vague and she couldn't be sure if what she did envision had truly occurred. It was three in the morning now; she had been up for hours. Sitting on the cold tiled floor of her bathroom was not something that she ordinarily did, but then again, what happened last night was far from ordinary.
The few things she knew for sure weren't good. There she was in a meeting with Vaughn. Sitting on those black crates and sipping the tepid coffee that they both used to avoid the mounting tension between them. She had just stupidly told him she cared, she had placed her hand over his and he hadn't moved away. She didn't know what possessed her to kiss him, but whatever it was, it could easily be blamed on the moment. It was the first moment since Danny's death that gave her a reason to live. Will and Francie were good friends but she had a deep suspicion that they couldn't fulfill all of her emotional needs.
Maybe Michael Vaughn could. G-d, she loved his name. She loved the way that it rolled off of her tongue when she said it into the mirror, all those long hours that she spent thinking about him led up to this seemingly perfect moment. There he was, looking at her with his deep eyes, his eyes had been trying to tell her something, but she was obviously unclear of what they were saying. As she had leaned in to kiss him, he pulled away. He didn't say a word, but she knew he had lost all respect for her. He, out of no where, retorted, "This is neither the time nor the place"
Why were those words so cold? Why did they sting so much? Why did she care? She had turned her head away, tried to feign a smooth cool attitude, much like the one she exuded SD-6. She never acted together in front of Vaughn. She was always angry at him or so in love with him that she couldn't see straight, and a lot of the time it was both…
Why did she love him? Why didn't he love her? Why did this have to be so hard? She found herself back at square one, what if she never agreed to work at SD-6? Where would she be? She'd have no relationship with her father. She'd have no adventure, and no Michael Vaughn. Even if it was safe to love him, to hold his hand in public and to be his, he wouldn't want her. She'd still be that shy bookworm with the long brown tresses that never laid right. She knew that the only thing that kept Vaughn, Michael Vaughn interested was the action….the adventure… and if her life hadn't changed 7 years ago, she'd have nothing.
Sadly all she really had was SD-6 and now this even more secretive post as a double agent. The CIA needed her, SD-6 needed her. They all needed someone just like her. They always warned her to see things black and white, to weed out the bad from the good, though it made no sense. She was emotional, she was supposed to be. It she wasn't, she'd be nothing.
She could vaguely see her face is the mirror. It was tear-stained and looked broken. Her spirit was broken, but not her face. Her china doll bone structure had been wounded through many missions, but that hurt behind her eyes that was forever. Bruises healed, but when you're broken its forever.
She could have accepted if Vaughn said "It isn't safe" and gave a weak smile. Those smiles made her weak in the knees; they let her know that he wanted her, but couldn't act on it. There was no weak smile on his face last night. There was nothing, just this stone cold façade that she knew too well. She had used it before, on her father, on Sloane, even on Francie and Will. She'd never shut Michael out like that. He was the reason she hadn't given up.
After every mission she thought 'I'm one step closer to getting my chance at true happiness'. This happiness was named Michael Vaughn, and she couldn't have him. That ate her up inside. If she had to do SD-6's biddings then at least she deserved one night. But them it came to her again, a wave of guilt. A pang of hurt, Danny had given her happiness; maybe he was what she was destined for. Maybe since she destroyed that, she couldn't have Vaughn.
She wasn't going to contemplate the 'what if's' in the wee hours of the morning. All she could do was go on. She was stuck on Vaughn though. What didn't he like about her? Was it her upfront attitude? Was it that she was more successful then him? She laughed; it was an out of place stupid chuckle. He didn't like her because of her success? It was the most ridiculous thing that she had ever heard. She could hardly believe that she had thought such an absurd thing. Even if he hated her, he would have appreciated her success, even if it was only for the benefit of the CIA.
Sydney's head hurt, she would have poured herself a drink, but that would have required getting up. Instead she'd ponder these questions and live and relive this painful secret storm. That was poetic, wasn't it? A secret storm, her whole life was secret, covert this and covert that; deception at every corner. But yet she wasn't afraid to think the truth. Sloane could never steal that.
She stared up at the ceiling; she admired its small imperfections. Vaughn, he popped into his head and she had a crazy fantasy of her yelling at him in broad daylight where the whole world could see. She'd yell "You must love me!"
But this fantasy was crazy… She couldn't just walk up to people and yell at them. At least not when you're Sydney Bristow, a double agent, having the craziest job in the whole world, let alone saying "you must love me"
She could write him a note; she could tell him in secret, she could even destroy the world and tell him in person. She had no idea of the time, she really didn't care, but it must have been late, or did she mean early, because Francie was stirring. She was always noisy. Sydney hated that, maybe because she always had to be so quiet and silent. She couldn't be imperfect, no; the whole world would collapse if that happened. Another out of place chuckle came from her dry mouth. She could hardly believe that the world depended on her.
Sadly, though they needed her, she could be replaced, and would be; some unsuspecting junior agent thinking that they would be getting a life full of danger and whimsy. At 19, things seemed so easy, but now nearly 8 years later, the world sucked! She cursed, she didn't care. She always though cursing lowered your… well it made you seem like a low life. Isn't that what her mother always said?
Did it really matter? Everything about her mother was corrupt. Why should she hold true to the values that her mother had instilled? Why, because she was Sydney Bristow. And no matter what she thought, or said, it didn't change the fact that when Sloane paged her she'd go running. Or that if a call came for Joey's Pizza that she'd lie to Francie and waltz into the warehouse to see …. Vaughn.
Everything she thought or said came back to the one reason that she was curled up in this dark bathroom. Her toes needed to be painted, maybe she'd wear those new strappy open-toed silver heels… no, what was she thinking. Vaughn, Vaughn, Vaughn. Why did the world revolve around him? That's right, because she was merely a player in this game of deception.
A knock came from outside the bathroom, Francie opened the door. She looked down at the weary Sydney. She motioned to some unknown stranger that Sydney couldn't see, but knew was there. Francie weakly smiled. Partly because Sydney looked like hell, but more so because she was jealous. How often did handsome Prince Charmings show up? Claiming to want to talk to you? Maybe if things didn't work out with him and Syd, Francie could get his number.
Sydney stood up, her legs were weak, and she realized that her legs must have been numb for hours, because pins and needles were running up and down her legs. She tried to fix her appearance, but grimaced and thought 'why?' She walked out and saw Vaughn. He was just as uncool and uncollected as her. She felt better. Francie left them alone, and Sydney said nothing. Vaughn said nothing.
They sat on a faded blue couch in silence, until Vaughn looked up. He looked at Sydney, and placed his sweaty hand over hers. He leaned in to kiss her, and she knew this was another moment in this game that they played. She could have pulled away and done what Vaughn had done to her, but she knew she'd just be spiting herself in the end. She allowed the kiss to happen. The morning had come, and with it a renewed sense of hope. The storm had passed and the rainbow had come. Maybe there would be a chance, maybe, but only time would tell.
*The End*
Info: I wrote this a few months back…its short sweet and too the point but I thought that the rest of the world deserved to read another prolific piece of work from my mind: -
Enjoy-
Then The Morning Comes
She didn't know what exactly had happened last night, her memories were vague and she couldn't be sure if what she did envision had truly occurred. It was three in the morning now; she had been up for hours. Sitting on the cold tiled floor of her bathroom was not something that she ordinarily did, but then again, what happened last night was far from ordinary.
The few things she knew for sure weren't good. There she was in a meeting with Vaughn. Sitting on those black crates and sipping the tepid coffee that they both used to avoid the mounting tension between them. She had just stupidly told him she cared, she had placed her hand over his and he hadn't moved away. She didn't know what possessed her to kiss him, but whatever it was, it could easily be blamed on the moment. It was the first moment since Danny's death that gave her a reason to live. Will and Francie were good friends but she had a deep suspicion that they couldn't fulfill all of her emotional needs.
Maybe Michael Vaughn could. G-d, she loved his name. She loved the way that it rolled off of her tongue when she said it into the mirror, all those long hours that she spent thinking about him led up to this seemingly perfect moment. There he was, looking at her with his deep eyes, his eyes had been trying to tell her something, but she was obviously unclear of what they were saying. As she had leaned in to kiss him, he pulled away. He didn't say a word, but she knew he had lost all respect for her. He, out of no where, retorted, "This is neither the time nor the place"
Why were those words so cold? Why did they sting so much? Why did she care? She had turned her head away, tried to feign a smooth cool attitude, much like the one she exuded SD-6. She never acted together in front of Vaughn. She was always angry at him or so in love with him that she couldn't see straight, and a lot of the time it was both…
Why did she love him? Why didn't he love her? Why did this have to be so hard? She found herself back at square one, what if she never agreed to work at SD-6? Where would she be? She'd have no relationship with her father. She'd have no adventure, and no Michael Vaughn. Even if it was safe to love him, to hold his hand in public and to be his, he wouldn't want her. She'd still be that shy bookworm with the long brown tresses that never laid right. She knew that the only thing that kept Vaughn, Michael Vaughn interested was the action….the adventure… and if her life hadn't changed 7 years ago, she'd have nothing.
Sadly all she really had was SD-6 and now this even more secretive post as a double agent. The CIA needed her, SD-6 needed her. They all needed someone just like her. They always warned her to see things black and white, to weed out the bad from the good, though it made no sense. She was emotional, she was supposed to be. It she wasn't, she'd be nothing.
She could vaguely see her face is the mirror. It was tear-stained and looked broken. Her spirit was broken, but not her face. Her china doll bone structure had been wounded through many missions, but that hurt behind her eyes that was forever. Bruises healed, but when you're broken its forever.
She could have accepted if Vaughn said "It isn't safe" and gave a weak smile. Those smiles made her weak in the knees; they let her know that he wanted her, but couldn't act on it. There was no weak smile on his face last night. There was nothing, just this stone cold façade that she knew too well. She had used it before, on her father, on Sloane, even on Francie and Will. She'd never shut Michael out like that. He was the reason she hadn't given up.
After every mission she thought 'I'm one step closer to getting my chance at true happiness'. This happiness was named Michael Vaughn, and she couldn't have him. That ate her up inside. If she had to do SD-6's biddings then at least she deserved one night. But them it came to her again, a wave of guilt. A pang of hurt, Danny had given her happiness; maybe he was what she was destined for. Maybe since she destroyed that, she couldn't have Vaughn.
She wasn't going to contemplate the 'what if's' in the wee hours of the morning. All she could do was go on. She was stuck on Vaughn though. What didn't he like about her? Was it her upfront attitude? Was it that she was more successful then him? She laughed; it was an out of place stupid chuckle. He didn't like her because of her success? It was the most ridiculous thing that she had ever heard. She could hardly believe that she had thought such an absurd thing. Even if he hated her, he would have appreciated her success, even if it was only for the benefit of the CIA.
Sydney's head hurt, she would have poured herself a drink, but that would have required getting up. Instead she'd ponder these questions and live and relive this painful secret storm. That was poetic, wasn't it? A secret storm, her whole life was secret, covert this and covert that; deception at every corner. But yet she wasn't afraid to think the truth. Sloane could never steal that.
She stared up at the ceiling; she admired its small imperfections. Vaughn, he popped into his head and she had a crazy fantasy of her yelling at him in broad daylight where the whole world could see. She'd yell "You must love me!"
But this fantasy was crazy… She couldn't just walk up to people and yell at them. At least not when you're Sydney Bristow, a double agent, having the craziest job in the whole world, let alone saying "you must love me"
She could write him a note; she could tell him in secret, she could even destroy the world and tell him in person. She had no idea of the time, she really didn't care, but it must have been late, or did she mean early, because Francie was stirring. She was always noisy. Sydney hated that, maybe because she always had to be so quiet and silent. She couldn't be imperfect, no; the whole world would collapse if that happened. Another out of place chuckle came from her dry mouth. She could hardly believe that the world depended on her.
Sadly, though they needed her, she could be replaced, and would be; some unsuspecting junior agent thinking that they would be getting a life full of danger and whimsy. At 19, things seemed so easy, but now nearly 8 years later, the world sucked! She cursed, she didn't care. She always though cursing lowered your… well it made you seem like a low life. Isn't that what her mother always said?
Did it really matter? Everything about her mother was corrupt. Why should she hold true to the values that her mother had instilled? Why, because she was Sydney Bristow. And no matter what she thought, or said, it didn't change the fact that when Sloane paged her she'd go running. Or that if a call came for Joey's Pizza that she'd lie to Francie and waltz into the warehouse to see …. Vaughn.
Everything she thought or said came back to the one reason that she was curled up in this dark bathroom. Her toes needed to be painted, maybe she'd wear those new strappy open-toed silver heels… no, what was she thinking. Vaughn, Vaughn, Vaughn. Why did the world revolve around him? That's right, because she was merely a player in this game of deception.
A knock came from outside the bathroom, Francie opened the door. She looked down at the weary Sydney. She motioned to some unknown stranger that Sydney couldn't see, but knew was there. Francie weakly smiled. Partly because Sydney looked like hell, but more so because she was jealous. How often did handsome Prince Charmings show up? Claiming to want to talk to you? Maybe if things didn't work out with him and Syd, Francie could get his number.
Sydney stood up, her legs were weak, and she realized that her legs must have been numb for hours, because pins and needles were running up and down her legs. She tried to fix her appearance, but grimaced and thought 'why?' She walked out and saw Vaughn. He was just as uncool and uncollected as her. She felt better. Francie left them alone, and Sydney said nothing. Vaughn said nothing.
They sat on a faded blue couch in silence, until Vaughn looked up. He looked at Sydney, and placed his sweaty hand over hers. He leaned in to kiss her, and she knew this was another moment in this game that they played. She could have pulled away and done what Vaughn had done to her, but she knew she'd just be spiting herself in the end. She allowed the kiss to happen. The morning had come, and with it a renewed sense of hope. The storm had passed and the rainbow had come. Maybe there would be a chance, maybe, but only time would tell.
*The End*