Disclaimer: These characters are not mine – they are the property of Bad Robot, Touchstone, ABC, JJ et al
Rating: PG-13 for some mild language
Feedback: Need it like I need water, my running shoes, Alias and fine wine… Please read/review ~ constructive criticism is always welcome!
Author's Note1: Post-Cipher. Assume Sydney has escaped from her icy predicament in Siberia (she is the star of the show after all!).
AN2: Chapters 4-7 all were beta-d by the most fantastic Agent Blakeney. (Thanks for your support!)
Chapter One: The Seed Box
**Sydney POV**
I look at the key in my hand and take a deep breath. Placing it in the lock, I remind myself not to just blow by Francie as I usually do. On the plane, I promised myself that I would smile and have a real conversation with my friend – something that I have not done in weeks.
As I push open the door, I hear Francie call, "Syd, is that you?"
"Hi! It's me. Just dragging my jet-lagged self home again!"
I drop my suitcase and purse in the entryway and walk over to Fran to give her a hug.
"How are the restaurant preparations going?" I ask.
Instead of answering, Francie takes a deep look at me – one of those 'I am your best friend, I have known you forever and you cannot hide anything from me' looks. I can tell she wants to ask me something, but she simply returns my hug and says, "You look exhausted."
I smile and shrug off her concern by explaining what two 12-hour flights and one extremely long meeting will do to a girl's energy level.
"Yeah, I understand – the glamorous life of international finance!" Francie replies, grabbing her purse from the kitchen table. "Anyway, I have to run some errands – you go take a shower and a nap and I will update you on the restaurant when I get back."
The sound of the door closing jars me back into action. I drag my suitcase to my room and plop down on my bed. Here I am, alone again. Usually, I dislike talking to anyone when I get back from a mission, but today I really feel like having some company and a conversation that doesn't involve SD-6, the CIA or Irina Derevko. Normalcy is what I crave, and Francie, my one 'normal' friend, has just bailed. I can't call Vaughn or Will – they would just insist on discussing all the things I do not want to talk about.
Oh well… First things first – a hot shower, a nap and then, hopefully, some time with Francie.
I step out of my clothes and walk to the bathroom. Within 30 seconds, scalding hot water is pouring from the showerhead – thank god for the water pressure in this apartment. As the heat of the shower envelops me and the hot water massages my sore muscles, I let my mind wander… I have felt so disconnected lately. I no longer have control over my life – events are spinning out of control and it seems like my world has been turned upside down. I must be crazy, but some days I really want to go back to the time when my mother was dead and I thought SD-6 could be taken down in a matter of a few weeks. Life was simpler then – I had hope for the future, and now, now I just do not know…The Rambaldi mystery, the Irina enigma, Will, Vaughn, my dad – everything is so complicated. I crave the day when my life – hell, one corner of my life – is normal and full of beauty.
I turn off the water, wrap myself in a towel and walk back to my room with thoughts of normalcy tugging at the back of my mind… As I begin changing into sweats, something catches my eye – Emily's seed box.
I grab the box and sit on my bed to examine it. It is beautiful – a true Arts and Crafts heirloom piece. I had not given the box much thought when Sloane gave it to me - I had been too focused on making the bastard squirm. Now, as I run my fingers along the woodwork, I am surprised by the intricacy of the simple design. Inside, there are seeds filling several compartments along with assorted 'how to' notes from Emily.
I smile to myself thinking of Emily and her love of the earth. She always told me that when she worked in her garden, her troubles would fade away. Perhaps, I could apply this same lesson to my life by taking Emily's gift and putting it to use. Everything else around me might remain crazy and out of control, but I could plant a garden, and, hopefully, salvage a bit of my life for myself.
I place the seed box back on my desk and fall into bed – relaxed and settled for the first time since Taipei. As I close my eyes, my thoughts fill with images of beautiful flowers, rich soil and the perfume of happiness. I remember a poem Francie made me memorize once during a bout of depression in college:
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts and
presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way
of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even the sunshine burns if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth
and you learn and you learn
with every goodbye you learn.
"I will plant my garden and decorate my soul", I repeat to myself.
Within moments, I am fast asleep with only pleasant thoughts to occupy my dreams.
~ End of Part One ~
AN: Poem at the end is "After A While" by Veronica A. Shoffstall.