Title: Full Circle: Snow
Author: labyrinthine
E-mail: elabyrinthine@yahoo.com
Rating/Classification: PG/vignette, ongoing series, Sydney POV
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Summary: You must travel full circle to find the truth…a vacation allows Sydney the chance to contemplate a normal life.
Notes: First installment in a series of Sydney POV scenes. It's all about artistic license: this follows the storyline up until Quentin makes his big debut, at which time canon gets shot out the window. Massive non-alcoholic margarita toasts (ha!) to Hillary, for all the usual reasons and more. :)
"The world is full of places. Why is it that I am here?" -Wendell Berry
*****
Sydney was looking forward to snow. She hated the cold, but a blanket of snow could make any landscape seem attractive. There was something appealing about covering up undesirable situations with pristine white.
"So when are you leaving again?"
Sydney shook off her reverie and turned from the kitchen window to face Francie. "Tomorrow, 7am. The cab comes at 5; I'll try not to wake you."
"And this trip's to…Maine?"
"Vermont." Or Moscow, depending on whom was asking. "The bank's trying to establish a presence on the east coast. I'll be schmoozing with CEO's and be taken out for nice expensive dinners."
"Right. And why the hell are they sending you across the country when you have finals next week? Do they want you to flunk out?"
Sydney offered a half-smile. "I've already cleared it with my professors. Besides, this should be my last trip for a little while."
"And how many times have I heard that one? The amount of trips you take is insane."
"I'm serious - I already told my boss I was taking advantage of all my unused vacation time before it disappeared at the end of the year." Or something along those lines, Sydney thought. She was actually pretty satisfied with herself, approaching Sloane at the end of her latest briefing. He looked suspicious when she first mentioned her intention of time off from active duty, but managed to convince him by demonstrating that a vacation was imperative for keeping her cover. Ever since SD-6 was convinced she wasn't a mole, she had been sent on oversees missions with increasing frequency, and it was getting more and more difficult to evade Francie and Will's inquiries about the trips, let alone pass her classes. Plus, she was half-afraid Francie would apply for an unlisted number while she was gone to avoid the Joey's Pizza calls, though that part certainly didn't make it into her appeal to Sloane. She had walked out SD-6 with him convinced that three weeks off wouldn't make a huge difference in the grand scheme of things, and that her cover would be all the more secure during the absence.
France broke out in a grin. "About time!"
"About time for what?" Will appeared in the doorway. "Dinner? Because I'm starving."
"Damn!" Sydney flew across the room to the oven, where she gingerly extracted a brown and slightly crispy bird. "I forgot all about the chicken…it's going to be dry." She looked around for a baster before realizing there wasn't one in the house. "*This* is why I don't cook. The oven should, like, turn itself off when the chicken is done. That's my opinion."
Will appraised the chicken as he reached above to open a cabinet and bring down plates. "Looks great to me, Syd. If this was dinner at my place it'd be take-out extraordinaire like usual. I don't think I've bought an uncooked chicken in my life."
"That doesn't surprise me in the least. Charlie, on the other hand, can cook up a storm." Francie's eyes all but glazed over. "He made the best lasagna the other night…"
"He's rehearsing?" Sydney queried.
"Yeah. I offer to go with him but he gets all defensive, like he absolutely can't concentrate with someone else in the room or something."
"Hey, I can understand that, I wouldn't want people around me either if I was practicing," Will offered from the next room, in the middle of setting the table.
"But that's because you have no voice, Will." Francie retorted. "Unlike you, Charlie has talent. And he's nervous, they've got this gig coming up that's supposed to be a big deal, he wants us all there for that. Hey!" She turned to face her friend. "So you'll actually be around then, is what you're saying."
Sydney smiled. "I'll be here, for sure. Leave tomorrow, get back in three days, deal with finals, and then I'm on my own for a few weeks."
"Wait, you're actually taking a vacation?" Will all but beamed. "This calls for the good wine."
*****
A vacation. She honestly hadn't considered the absence she had asked for as a vacation until now. It was…a business decision, a move to alleviate suspicions more than anything else. A chance to convince the rest of the world that she lived a normal life. But a vacation…she hadn't even considered what she would do with the time off. She put so much effort into pretending her life was ordinary; she wasn't sure she even knew how to be normal anymore.
"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but we don't sell pizza, alright?" Francie slammed down the receiver. "I mean, really, we need to do something about this, Syd. Do we look like a pizzeria?"
"Yeah, I know. I'll get it taken care of."
"We should sic Will on it. He lives for these little mystery hunts."
Sydney rolled her shoulders. "Somehow I don't think we want Will messing with our phone lines."
Francie paused for maybe a second. "Good point."
"Don't worry about it, I'll call the company or something when I get back." Or rather, she'd go straight to the source and figure out a new way for the CIA to get in contact with her. Though recently the calls were growing on her; they provided a nice bit of continuity in her otherwise disjointed life.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"…mmm?" Sydney put down the pile of clothes she was sorting through on the bed and looked at her friend.
"This little vacation of yours. Though, of course, I won't believe it until I actually see you slouching around here in pajamas in the middle of the day like you used to do on the weekends."
"Francie, I haven't done that in years-"
"Because you're never around to. And now you will be."
"To slouch around in pajamas." She shot Francie a dubious glance.
"Yes!"
"Right." Sydney reassessed the pile of clothes on the bed. "Damn, I can't find my gloves."
"Oh, for Vermont? Here, let me get mine-"
"No, it's fine." She stood up. "There are a couple other little things I should pick up too. It'll only take a minute."
"You sure?"
Sydney reached over the pile for her jacket and keys, and wondered when she had become so adept at lying to her friend. "Yep. Be back in a few."
*****
Driving, she found herself unable to recall the last time she had more than five minutes to herself. Before Danny, sure, but…she hadn't felt in total control of her life since his death. And it still shook her up every time she thought of her life with him preceding his death as "Before Danny," as if his murder was the defining point of his life. She was almost afraid to have the time to think; she had purposefully put off processing the turns her life had taken recently, and didn't think the exhumed version would be very appealing.
As she turned into the parking lot, she saw Vaughn through the diner window, sipping coffee and eyeing his watch. She knew she was late for the meeting, but if she just ran out of the house the minute she received a call, one of her friends would eventually catch on. For once, this didn't bother her. They hadn't spoken since their last meeting in the warehouse, when she had so brazenly declared her intentions to leave SD-6. She still wanted out; god, she wanted out so badly. But at least she had regained enough sense to realize it would take a little more than just asking Sloane's permission.
Sydney threw the car in park and allowed herself the chance to really look at Vaughn for a minute. The symbolism of viewing him through a pane of glass - look, but you can't touch - was not lost on her. The barrier was protective as well; she knew he would manage some way to bring up her previous comments, and she honestly had no idea what she would say in response. Her ease in lying to her friends never carried over to him - he always managed to draw the truth out of her. She wondered what her friends would think of him, or if she'd even recognize him outside of their job. She didn't even know if he owned any clothes outside of the perpetual suit he always wore, that he was wearing now, pegging him out of place in the scaled-back diner. It frightened her at times, to realize that she so frequently put her life in the hands of a man who barely knew her outside of the job.
Will knew everything about her, except for what she kept secret. This whole double-agent persona that she so desperately wanted to stop, this was her secret. Vaughn was her secret. And Sydney had always hated secrets.
Stepping out of the car, she walked briskly to the front door of the diner, her step belying the leaden feeling weighing her down. Reaching for the door, she wished for a blizzard to bury her secrets in snow.
*****
Full Circle: Snow
elabyrinthine@yahoo.com
Author: labyrinthine
E-mail: elabyrinthine@yahoo.com
Rating/Classification: PG/vignette, ongoing series, Sydney POV
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.
Summary: You must travel full circle to find the truth…a vacation allows Sydney the chance to contemplate a normal life.
Notes: First installment in a series of Sydney POV scenes. It's all about artistic license: this follows the storyline up until Quentin makes his big debut, at which time canon gets shot out the window. Massive non-alcoholic margarita toasts (ha!) to Hillary, for all the usual reasons and more. :)
"The world is full of places. Why is it that I am here?" -Wendell Berry
*****
Sydney was looking forward to snow. She hated the cold, but a blanket of snow could make any landscape seem attractive. There was something appealing about covering up undesirable situations with pristine white.
"So when are you leaving again?"
Sydney shook off her reverie and turned from the kitchen window to face Francie. "Tomorrow, 7am. The cab comes at 5; I'll try not to wake you."
"And this trip's to…Maine?"
"Vermont." Or Moscow, depending on whom was asking. "The bank's trying to establish a presence on the east coast. I'll be schmoozing with CEO's and be taken out for nice expensive dinners."
"Right. And why the hell are they sending you across the country when you have finals next week? Do they want you to flunk out?"
Sydney offered a half-smile. "I've already cleared it with my professors. Besides, this should be my last trip for a little while."
"And how many times have I heard that one? The amount of trips you take is insane."
"I'm serious - I already told my boss I was taking advantage of all my unused vacation time before it disappeared at the end of the year." Or something along those lines, Sydney thought. She was actually pretty satisfied with herself, approaching Sloane at the end of her latest briefing. He looked suspicious when she first mentioned her intention of time off from active duty, but managed to convince him by demonstrating that a vacation was imperative for keeping her cover. Ever since SD-6 was convinced she wasn't a mole, she had been sent on oversees missions with increasing frequency, and it was getting more and more difficult to evade Francie and Will's inquiries about the trips, let alone pass her classes. Plus, she was half-afraid Francie would apply for an unlisted number while she was gone to avoid the Joey's Pizza calls, though that part certainly didn't make it into her appeal to Sloane. She had walked out SD-6 with him convinced that three weeks off wouldn't make a huge difference in the grand scheme of things, and that her cover would be all the more secure during the absence.
France broke out in a grin. "About time!"
"About time for what?" Will appeared in the doorway. "Dinner? Because I'm starving."
"Damn!" Sydney flew across the room to the oven, where she gingerly extracted a brown and slightly crispy bird. "I forgot all about the chicken…it's going to be dry." She looked around for a baster before realizing there wasn't one in the house. "*This* is why I don't cook. The oven should, like, turn itself off when the chicken is done. That's my opinion."
Will appraised the chicken as he reached above to open a cabinet and bring down plates. "Looks great to me, Syd. If this was dinner at my place it'd be take-out extraordinaire like usual. I don't think I've bought an uncooked chicken in my life."
"That doesn't surprise me in the least. Charlie, on the other hand, can cook up a storm." Francie's eyes all but glazed over. "He made the best lasagna the other night…"
"He's rehearsing?" Sydney queried.
"Yeah. I offer to go with him but he gets all defensive, like he absolutely can't concentrate with someone else in the room or something."
"Hey, I can understand that, I wouldn't want people around me either if I was practicing," Will offered from the next room, in the middle of setting the table.
"But that's because you have no voice, Will." Francie retorted. "Unlike you, Charlie has talent. And he's nervous, they've got this gig coming up that's supposed to be a big deal, he wants us all there for that. Hey!" She turned to face her friend. "So you'll actually be around then, is what you're saying."
Sydney smiled. "I'll be here, for sure. Leave tomorrow, get back in three days, deal with finals, and then I'm on my own for a few weeks."
"Wait, you're actually taking a vacation?" Will all but beamed. "This calls for the good wine."
*****
A vacation. She honestly hadn't considered the absence she had asked for as a vacation until now. It was…a business decision, a move to alleviate suspicions more than anything else. A chance to convince the rest of the world that she lived a normal life. But a vacation…she hadn't even considered what she would do with the time off. She put so much effort into pretending her life was ordinary; she wasn't sure she even knew how to be normal anymore.
"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but we don't sell pizza, alright?" Francie slammed down the receiver. "I mean, really, we need to do something about this, Syd. Do we look like a pizzeria?"
"Yeah, I know. I'll get it taken care of."
"We should sic Will on it. He lives for these little mystery hunts."
Sydney rolled her shoulders. "Somehow I don't think we want Will messing with our phone lines."
Francie paused for maybe a second. "Good point."
"Don't worry about it, I'll call the company or something when I get back." Or rather, she'd go straight to the source and figure out a new way for the CIA to get in contact with her. Though recently the calls were growing on her; they provided a nice bit of continuity in her otherwise disjointed life.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"…mmm?" Sydney put down the pile of clothes she was sorting through on the bed and looked at her friend.
"This little vacation of yours. Though, of course, I won't believe it until I actually see you slouching around here in pajamas in the middle of the day like you used to do on the weekends."
"Francie, I haven't done that in years-"
"Because you're never around to. And now you will be."
"To slouch around in pajamas." She shot Francie a dubious glance.
"Yes!"
"Right." Sydney reassessed the pile of clothes on the bed. "Damn, I can't find my gloves."
"Oh, for Vermont? Here, let me get mine-"
"No, it's fine." She stood up. "There are a couple other little things I should pick up too. It'll only take a minute."
"You sure?"
Sydney reached over the pile for her jacket and keys, and wondered when she had become so adept at lying to her friend. "Yep. Be back in a few."
*****
Driving, she found herself unable to recall the last time she had more than five minutes to herself. Before Danny, sure, but…she hadn't felt in total control of her life since his death. And it still shook her up every time she thought of her life with him preceding his death as "Before Danny," as if his murder was the defining point of his life. She was almost afraid to have the time to think; she had purposefully put off processing the turns her life had taken recently, and didn't think the exhumed version would be very appealing.
As she turned into the parking lot, she saw Vaughn through the diner window, sipping coffee and eyeing his watch. She knew she was late for the meeting, but if she just ran out of the house the minute she received a call, one of her friends would eventually catch on. For once, this didn't bother her. They hadn't spoken since their last meeting in the warehouse, when she had so brazenly declared her intentions to leave SD-6. She still wanted out; god, she wanted out so badly. But at least she had regained enough sense to realize it would take a little more than just asking Sloane's permission.
Sydney threw the car in park and allowed herself the chance to really look at Vaughn for a minute. The symbolism of viewing him through a pane of glass - look, but you can't touch - was not lost on her. The barrier was protective as well; she knew he would manage some way to bring up her previous comments, and she honestly had no idea what she would say in response. Her ease in lying to her friends never carried over to him - he always managed to draw the truth out of her. She wondered what her friends would think of him, or if she'd even recognize him outside of their job. She didn't even know if he owned any clothes outside of the perpetual suit he always wore, that he was wearing now, pegging him out of place in the scaled-back diner. It frightened her at times, to realize that she so frequently put her life in the hands of a man who barely knew her outside of the job.
Will knew everything about her, except for what she kept secret. This whole double-agent persona that she so desperately wanted to stop, this was her secret. Vaughn was her secret. And Sydney had always hated secrets.
Stepping out of the car, she walked briskly to the front door of the diner, her step belying the leaden feeling weighing her down. Reaching for the door, she wished for a blizzard to bury her secrets in snow.
*****
Full Circle: Snow
elabyrinthine@yahoo.com