Ice
Author: Pharo
Disclaimer: 'Alias' belongs to J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot, Touchstone, and ABC.
Summary: Sydney's secret is out.
Spoilers: Up to and including "The Box (1)".
Feedback: pharo@onebox.com
Author's Notes: I was making fan art ("Red"), when the idea came to my head.
'I don't want the world to see me 'cause I don't think that they'd understand…' ---Goo Goo Dolls, Iris
----
"Joey's Pizza."
"Not now."
"Joey's Pizza."
"Wrong number," I said with a sigh.
I briskly walk down the wet streets, my head bent low and tucked into the high collar of my jacket. I don't bother taking my eyes off the cracked streets. Dark clouds loomed above me while the wind pushed me along. The big storm would come in an hour—maybe even less. Every TV channel had constant weather updates with precautionary tales and last minute advice on guarding the house. I could care less about all that stuff right now. All I want is to forget about things for awhile, but things have a way of working against me. This walk just makes me think more about everything. Not to mention that two minutes after I left the house, it started pouring again—big, fat drops of cold water spilling from the sky. Now, I'm thinking that maybe this walk wasn't such a good idea.
As I wait for the cars to pass by, I pull out a pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket. Fumbling around for awhile, I finally find the sleek, silver lighter. A drunk Francie gave it to me a couple of years ago.
"You know I don't smoke, Francie."
"You're bound to smoke some time in your life. Something that'll make you say, 'To hell with health. I need a cigarette.' You can use that when that time comes."
"Nice outlook on life."
"Can't be happy forever, Syd."
It's the truth. I'd settle for being happy for just a little while, but I don't see it happening anytime in the near future.
At this moment, I feel like throwing it into the gutter, but I love it too much to do something stupid like that. After turning it over a couple of times, I finally light a cigarette from the pack and put everything back in my pockets.
"Since when do you smoke?" he asks when I arrive at the pier.
"Not a bad time to start," I simply state. "Helps keep the cold away."
The cold I feel because of mother. Some lady that I guess, I don't even truly know, is making me feel worse than I ever have before.
"How are you feeling?"
"Cold."
"We could go to the warehouse if---"
I shake my head. No, he doesn't understand.
"All the warmth in the world, Vaughn, won't be able to stop me from feeling cold," I say sadly. He looks at me and I can see fear in his eyes.
"Are you ok?" he asks, fully knowing what the answer is.
"No."
"Anything I can do?"
Strangely, at that moment, I remember the commercials with the "Just Say No" slogan as if he's offering me some sort of drug.
"I don't think so."
"Sydney, I'm really sorry about this thing with your mother," he says.
I know he wants to tell me something to make me feel better, but he isn't sure if anything will. What can he possibly say that could stop the pain of so great a loss for even a minute?
"So am I."
***
He asked me if I wanted a ride back. It was raining and I didn't have an umbrella, but even so, I told him that I'd walk. I opted to walk the fifteen minutes to my house in the rain, rather than get there in a dry five. I think my thinking is becoming a bit impaired with all this saving the world stuff. How am I supposed to save the world when I can't even save myself?
I say 'no' to the wrong people. I should've thrown away the card that man gave to me my freshman year. I should've never gotten involved. I should never have told Danny that I was 'CIA'. I should have taken Vaughn up on his offer to drive me. From the look on his face, I could see that he would've been willing to drive me to the ends of the world at that moment.
I realize that I've made it to my door. I manage to open the door and get inside before I get even more drenched than I already am. I peel my jacket off and throw it on a chair. I'm so tired of all this.
"Ever heard of an umbrella, Syd?"
I look up and see Will looking for some food in my refrigerator. If Francie and I opened up some sort of fast food place, we could really survive off of Will alone. I'll have to talk to Francie the business venture when she gets home…
"Will, do you only come over to eat?"
"I got hungry. Been waiting for like an hour. Where were you, anyway?"
"I had to take care of some bank stuff," I say.
I wonder how many times I say that in a week. I don't even have to think about it anymore. It just blurts out naturally.
"What is with you and the bank?"
"People like to know that their money is safe."
"Really, you could get the same amount of money and work less at other jobs," he insists.
"Will…"
How many times can you have the same conversation? The same stupid conversation with the same stupid lies on rotation over and over again.
"I know, I know. It's your job…"
I want to open up that fast food place---only for non-government working people. Except for, maybe, Vaughn. It'd be ok to let Vaughn eat here.
"…It's ok to quit, you know," Will is saying.
I'm tired of lying. In that moment, the flood of lies goes dry and something just lets loose in me.
"No, it's not. Trust me, I've tried, but it's just not possible. When the fate of the world depends on you doing your job, you do it."
"Syd, what are you talking about?" he asks, confused.
The moment of truth. My mind goes blank and my mouth grows a life of its own.
"I work for the CIA."
He starts laughing.
"See, with stuff like that, you could totally go into acting. You're a natural---"
I take out my clearance card and slide it across the kitchen counter to him. It isn't so funny now, is it?
"Sydney---"
He only calls me 'Sydney' when he's dead serious.
"What the hell---"
He looks up at me with wide eyes and I see the fear. Will is scared of me. I think it's at that point that I fully realize what I've just done. Not only have I breached national security, I've put my best friend's life in danger.
"Oh God, Will…"
"So, the bank is some sort of metaphor?" he asks, looking down at the card again.
"Will, you can't tell anyone," I plead desperately.
"The trips are missions?" he asks and I'm not sure that he's heard a word I've said.
"Don't tell anyone. Not Francie, not Charlie, not Jenny. No one knows."
He looks up at me.
"The CIA is higher than the FBI and you work for them. That's like higher than...that's like past Mulder and---"
Oh no. What the hell did I do?
"You carry around guns and stuff?"
I do the only thing I can think of doing. I call Vaughn.
***
"You what?"
"I told Will."
"You didn't…"
"It just happened."
"Oh, I can totally see that. 'Hi Will. Bad weather out there. How's your day been? By the way, I'm CIA.'"
"Vaughn, I think he's in shock."
"Did you try telling him it's some sort of prank?"
"He's not stupid. I don't know what to do."
"I'll be over in five minutes."
***
