Title: "Bittersweet Nothings"
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "Alias"
Rating/Classification: PG-13 for language, angst. V/S-ish.
Disclaimer: I don't own this character...but I sure wish I did!
Summary: Vaughn questions...everything.
She comes to him to pour out her heart. Because she has no one else. Why does he find such secret satisfaction in that? Why does his stomach flip-flop every time she walks into a room? Why does his mouth go dry and his pulse skip? Why does he want, so much, to help her and hold her and slay her dragons even though she's perfectly capable of slaying them herself?
He joined the CIA to get answers.
All he seems to have now is questions.
He remembers standing in front of the coffin being lowered into the ground...wondering why he wasn't allowed to cry. Hating the word "protocol" that he heard the men in suits whisper. "Protocol"...what the fuck was that? He was eight...and all he knew was that he didn't have a daddy anymore. They told him the senior Vaughn was a "hero." What the fuck was a "hero"?
He saw that same look in a little boy's eyes as he took his own turn at funereal protocol two days ago. He thinks they make everyone go through it, pay their debts with this most vicious of lies as they look into a widow's eyes and over a child's head and murmur bittersweet nothings.
You don't die a hero.
You just die.
And it's over.
You don't get to hug your lover one last time...brush the hair out of their face and kiss the tip of their nose. You don't get to play Tonka trucks with a daughter who insists she hates Barbies "'cause they're girly!" You don't get to breathe as the roof caves in around your head and you see your doom mirrored in the eyes of the men around you.
You just die.
He'd long ago accepted that he was going out the same way. And he thanked God that there would be nobody at his own service to placate with stupid words as a flag-draped coffin sank into the earth. Not another generation of Vaughns getting pulled into the government's artful combination of glory and bullshit.
But then she comes to him with her confusion. With her wild words and accusations and the tears of frustration she won't show anyone else. She demands things of him that no one else ever has. Challenges him in ways he didn't know were possible. She asks him for answers.
And all he has to give her is questions.
*Why?*
*Why are you doing this, Sydney?*
*Why are _we_ doing this?*
*Why can't we stop?*
And he can't shake the image of her clad in mourning black...not at her beloved Danny's grave, but at his...as someone commends her for her bravery, for executing herself with professionalism as her agency liaison threw himself in front of a bullet meant for her. He sees her red-rimmed eyes meet the officious emotionless stare.
He sees her fist curl.
Sydney Bristow will break the cycle when she breaks the guy's nose.
He'll still be dead.
There will still be a desperate need for answers.
But at least it won't be a lie.
There's no protocol and no heroism--only tragedy--when you die for love.
You just die.
--end--
November 22, 2001.
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Fandom: "Alias"
Rating/Classification: PG-13 for language, angst. V/S-ish.
Disclaimer: I don't own this character...but I sure wish I did!
Summary: Vaughn questions...everything.
She comes to him to pour out her heart. Because she has no one else. Why does he find such secret satisfaction in that? Why does his stomach flip-flop every time she walks into a room? Why does his mouth go dry and his pulse skip? Why does he want, so much, to help her and hold her and slay her dragons even though she's perfectly capable of slaying them herself?
He joined the CIA to get answers.
All he seems to have now is questions.
He remembers standing in front of the coffin being lowered into the ground...wondering why he wasn't allowed to cry. Hating the word "protocol" that he heard the men in suits whisper. "Protocol"...what the fuck was that? He was eight...and all he knew was that he didn't have a daddy anymore. They told him the senior Vaughn was a "hero." What the fuck was a "hero"?
He saw that same look in a little boy's eyes as he took his own turn at funereal protocol two days ago. He thinks they make everyone go through it, pay their debts with this most vicious of lies as they look into a widow's eyes and over a child's head and murmur bittersweet nothings.
You don't die a hero.
You just die.
And it's over.
You don't get to hug your lover one last time...brush the hair out of their face and kiss the tip of their nose. You don't get to play Tonka trucks with a daughter who insists she hates Barbies "'cause they're girly!" You don't get to breathe as the roof caves in around your head and you see your doom mirrored in the eyes of the men around you.
You just die.
He'd long ago accepted that he was going out the same way. And he thanked God that there would be nobody at his own service to placate with stupid words as a flag-draped coffin sank into the earth. Not another generation of Vaughns getting pulled into the government's artful combination of glory and bullshit.
But then she comes to him with her confusion. With her wild words and accusations and the tears of frustration she won't show anyone else. She demands things of him that no one else ever has. Challenges him in ways he didn't know were possible. She asks him for answers.
And all he has to give her is questions.
*Why?*
*Why are you doing this, Sydney?*
*Why are _we_ doing this?*
*Why can't we stop?*
And he can't shake the image of her clad in mourning black...not at her beloved Danny's grave, but at his...as someone commends her for her bravery, for executing herself with professionalism as her agency liaison threw himself in front of a bullet meant for her. He sees her red-rimmed eyes meet the officious emotionless stare.
He sees her fist curl.
Sydney Bristow will break the cycle when she breaks the guy's nose.
He'll still be dead.
There will still be a desperate need for answers.
But at least it won't be a lie.
There's no protocol and no heroism--only tragedy--when you die for love.
You just die.
--end--
November 22, 2001.