Dark Peace

Ok, so realizing that just about everyone seems to have been confuzed by Silent Solitude, I decided to do a follow up, and hopefully clear things up for everyone…

Newflash: Silent Solitude won first place in the SD-1 April challenge! Dark Peace has been submitted for the May challenge, hope it has similar luck…

(Challenge elements: flowers, baseball, movie quote)

Many many thanks to Kate and Angel for the glass suggestion- I totally wouldn't have come up with that! Thanks guys!


It's remarkable how much things can change in the course of just five years. People you thought would always be there can suddenly be gone; the one person you know could never be beaten can go down for the count. Or perhaps the strongest person in the world can crumble like the frailest china, and if you put on just enough pressure, her fragile human psyche can shatter like a weakened window.

This is what happened to Jack; this is what happened to Sydney. And in the end, the blame goes square onto the cowardly shoulders of one Arvin Sloane. He has had a hand in manipulating everything on this twisted path, and because of him, nothing can ever be the same. Nothing can ever again be sane.

Because of that monster and Project Helix, Francie Calfo died needlessly. The cruel, inhumane monster that replaced her killed Jack Bristow. The loss of his strong presence has decimated the lives of all who knew him… not the least of whom has been Sydney. The past year has changed her from the invulnerable, amazing being she was, into a broken mirror of her former self… and it's all because of Sloane.

It was just about a year ago that Sydney's 'best friend' killed her father in cold blood. Shortly after that, the truth was revealed- 'Francie' wasn't Francie after all. They still don't know who she truly was. Sydney told me that, at that point, it felt like her world was beginning to collapse around her. But things turned even worse.
Not long after the revelation of Francie's deceit, Will Tippin went over the edge. He felt it was his fault, that he should have seen the truth. No one could break through his depression, not even Sydney.

He killed himself with one bullet to the head; Sydney was the one who found the body.

As she told me about the horror she felt in that moment, I began to fear that she would follow Will's example. Thankfully, she didn't, though I sometimes wonder if she wouldn't be better off if she had. Each time we talked after that, her voice grew more and more detached. Then one day, she told me what she had done to honor the memory of her two friends, and especially her father. She said it was too painful to go to the cemetery; the wounds were still too raw.

So instead, she made a trip down to a quiet beach late one night. She stood on the shore, allowing the water to just touch her toes, and she said her good-byes to the most recent people she had loved and lost. And then, once she had finished with that, she knelt in the wet sand, and slowly released three blue flowers into the ocean.

I still remember her telling me about that. I hadn't heard that much emotion in her voice in a very long time, and I haven't heard it since. And while I may not have been there, the image of Sydney Bristow on her knees in the water is one that will forever live in my memory.    

After that, she tried to move on, tried to live her life as normal as possible. She went to baseball games with her other friends; she and I spoke often, and she always told me everything that was on her mind; she continued on with the CIA. But it was obvious that she wasn't ok. She has never quite recovered from the devastating triple loss.

This is what led us to where we ended up next: in Cuba, waiting for Arvin Sloane to return home. Waiting to kill him. We were at a small restaurant, with very few other patrons. From there, we could clearly see the secluded road leading to his mansion. We would know when he arrived. I turned back to Sydney.

"You haven't even touched your food," I noted. She slowly turned to look at me. We had a brief staredown before she glanced at her food. After a moments hesitation, she lifted a hand up and slapped the hamburger angrily.

"There! I've touched it!" she hissed. I blinked, and she didn't react.

"Fine," I sighed. Sydney went back to her vigil, watching for Sloane's return. I understood her single-minded determination; she'd been tracking Sloane unendingly ever since Will's death, and she'd desired his death for a long time before that. The minutes ticked by in silence, and we soon noticed him returning. Turning to me, Sydney's cold eyes told me everything.

At the end of that day, either Sloane would be dead, or she would.

We broke into his mansion with relative ease; in his efforts to keep a low profile, he didn't have much of a security detail. Not long after that, Sydney and I were in what was presumably his office. We'd caught him unawares; Sydney had her gun pointed at him, I had mine in hand, and he had nothing. He pleaded with her to spare his life, but I could see that her resolve hadn't faded. She glanced at me briefly, and I nodded to her. As she turned back to that monster, I held my breath. I knew that his life would end in just moments. But there was one element Sydney and I both neglected to take into account, one element that changed everything.

Sark.

He burst in through a door on the far wall, and began firing at Sydney and I. We both ducked down, and Sloane began to head in Sark's direction. Sydney's broken eyes met mine.

"I can't let him get away… no matter what," she whispered.

"I know," I said softly, realizing what that meant. Taking a breath, she jumped up and began shooting. I could see the weight lift from her shoulders, and I knew Sloane was gone. But a moment later, Sydney fell to the ground beside me. I peeked over to see Sark kneeling by Sloane, gun lax. Lifting my own gun, I squeezed off one shot, and Sark fell dead near his new master.

I quickly turned my attention to Sydney. She smiled up at me, and breathed lightly.

"The monster is gone," she said softly. I nodded.

"He is. I'm so proud of you Sydney."

"And I'm proud of you. I know how hard it was for you to get out of LA and meet me here…"

"Hush. Don't mention it- you know I'd do anything for you, right?" She nodded weakly. A dark peace came into her eyes, and I knew.

"Thank you. I love you." My breath caught in my throat; I had neither expected nor deserved to hear those words from her, ever.

And with a final, contented sigh, Sydney Bristow died in the arms of her mother.




Movie quote:
'You haven't even touched your food!'
'There! I've touched it!'
~Young Frankenstein.