Yes I know I should probably be working on my Angel series, but I got this idea late Sunday night/early Monday morning. This is just a little vignette if you will, S/V of course, Syd's POV and very short, so enjoy!!! And again, feedback is greatly appreciated!
~ Feedback= little_pink_monkeys64@hotmail.com
~ Unfortunately, I don't own 'em…I'm still in school so don't sue me until I can sue you back!
~ PG, I think
~*~*Beautiful*~*~
By: LuLu
He always told me I was beautiful. That first night I stood there in front of him, bloody and draped in tattered clothing, wrapped in the rather unflattering light our secret warehouse provided, and he told me I was beautiful. He told me I was one of the strongest, most intelligent women that he had ever met, he'd met many before, but he'd known few who could kick his own ass. He told me as I stood there before him, fatigue threatening to swallow me whole, the anger and disgust driving me and craving for more, that no matter what happened he thought I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
The tears flooded out from the corners of my eyes as I bit my quivering lip, afraid of what would come out if I tried to open my mouth. How could he even think of me as anything but the spawn of Satan? How can he just stand there in front of me and tell me I was beautiful? He reached out and wiped a lone tear off my cheek with the soft pad of his thumb, his hand lingering longer than we both knew it should have.
Earlier that week we both found out the truth that we had tried to deny. We both knew my father was KGB, but what we didn't know is how many CIA never returned home. What we didn't was that he wasn't the one who committed the twenty-five merciless murders that left many orphaned or fatherless. What we didn't know was that one of those children was named Michael Vaughn. What we didn't know was that the agent responsible was my mother.
The look of horror, anger and disgust that had burned itself in his deep green eyes was I look that I will never forget. Ever. It was almost as if he hadn't known whether to hunt down my mother and shoot her point blank, as we were told she was alive and well in Russia, or take me into his arms. Fortunately that night he chose the latter.
He told me I was beautiful that night, and never stopped telling me for the rest of my life.
