Barely Breathing
From Russia, Part III
© 2002
Rating: PG
Spoilers: minimal, basic stuff
Pairing: V/S
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.
-Francie's POV-
I push Sydney's bedroom door open with the pad of my index finger. I create an opening just big enough so I can slip in. Her room is awash in bright sunlight that strains through the thin curtains and spills onto her bed. She lies motionless, the covers twisted around her body like a cocoon. It's noon. If she doesn't wake up soon, she'll miss her meeting with her English adviser.
I tap her bare shoulder softly. "Syd?" I whisper.
There is no movement. Her breathing remains steady and deep. "Syd?" I repeat, a little louder this time. Gaining no response, I shake her shoulders gently.
"Hmmm?" She turns a little toward my voice.
"Syd, you need to get up now." I really hate to wake her up, especially after how tired she looked returning from her trip last night, but I have no choice. I can't let her miss class. She's missed too much already.
"Francie?" she asks dreamily, her lips turning up slightly at the corners.
"Yeah, sweetie, it's me. Look, you really need to get up now. It's Thursday, so you have to go to class. No time to sleep in now."
Sydney suddenly snaps awake, her eyes wide and alert. "What time is it now?" she demands, startling me with her panicky tone of voice.
"Ten to noon. Why?" I get no reply, as Sydney leaps from the bed and hurries into the bathroom we share. "Syd? Is everything okay?"
Seeing my worried look, she shoots me a quick smile while furiously brushing her teeth. She spits. "Fine," she states, in between gargles. "I'm just late for a meeting, that's all."
A meeting? She never said anything about a meeting last night. All I know is that she has a class today at one thirty. Thoroughly confused, I ask, "Wait, what meeting? You didn't say anything about it last night."
"I forgot. Did anyone call, by the way?" She looks at me in the mirror with a questioningly glance, all the while brushing her tangled hair. I marvel at the way she can get herself together in a matter of minutes. It takes me at least forty-five minutes to get ready. Sydney can clean herself up in less than ten minutes and still look stunning. She really amazes me sometimes.
"Uh, I don't think so," I frown, thinking back to earlier this morning. "Oh, wait! There was another wrong number. I swear, Syd, we need to get this number changed…"
But before I can even begin my tirade on the ridiculous number of wrong numbers we've been getting recently, Sydney interrupts me.
"Who did they want?"
"What?" I am taken back by her question. Since when did she care about wrong numbers? Something is up. Her strained look is starting to seriously trouble me. Something isn't right; I can smell her anxiety coming off in waves.
"Did the caller ask for anyone?" Not wanting for my reply, she continues, "Who?"
"Joey's Pizza, I think." I stare at her with a curious expression, waiting for her to explain this little outburst over a wrong number. She ignores my unspoken question. In fact, she rushes out of the bathroom, flings open her closet, and grabs a pair of jeans and a red shirt. Tossing them on the bed, she strips down to her underwear, completely disregarding my presence in the room.
"Syd, what's up?" My voice is fraught with worry mixed with a bit of panic. "Tell me what's going on."
"Nothing." Her response comes out muffled through the shirt she is struggling to put on. Her head pops out, and I stare at her with my arms crossed, a disbelieving look on my face.
"Nothing, I swear," she repeats. I do not move, and she sighs at length. "Listen, Francie, I really need to go. Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be back by three." She gives me a quick hug, grabs her keys from the counter, and disappears from the room. A moment later I hear the front door slam. I cringe. Something is wrong; Sydney never slams the door.
--
-Will's POV-
I am just about to ring the doorbell when the door is flung open and Sydney burst out. She runs into me, and I stumble backward. "Whoa, there!" I manage to exclaim before she pulls me upright.
"Will!" She looks surprised to see me. I give her a warm smile. Maybe she'll have lunch with me today. But just as I am about to ask, she brushes past me.
"Sydney, wait!" I call after her, jogging to catch up. "Where are you going? Have you had lunch?" She doesn't respond. I don't understand what she's doing. She doesn't have anything scheduled until one thirty. The reporter in me connects this incident with the one on Monday, when Sydney rushed out without saying where she was going or whom she was going to meet. My suspicions immediately aroused, I decide to follow her in my car.
She peels out of the driveway, tires screeching against the protesting concrete. I cringe. Running to my car, I know something is up. Something may even be wrong. Sydney never screeches her tires.
There will be more angst/romance from this point on, combined with some action/adventure when Sydney goes on missions. Feedback, please!
-V
From Russia, Part III
© 2002
Rating: PG
Spoilers: minimal, basic stuff
Pairing: V/S
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.
-Francie's POV-
I push Sydney's bedroom door open with the pad of my index finger. I create an opening just big enough so I can slip in. Her room is awash in bright sunlight that strains through the thin curtains and spills onto her bed. She lies motionless, the covers twisted around her body like a cocoon. It's noon. If she doesn't wake up soon, she'll miss her meeting with her English adviser.
I tap her bare shoulder softly. "Syd?" I whisper.
There is no movement. Her breathing remains steady and deep. "Syd?" I repeat, a little louder this time. Gaining no response, I shake her shoulders gently.
"Hmmm?" She turns a little toward my voice.
"Syd, you need to get up now." I really hate to wake her up, especially after how tired she looked returning from her trip last night, but I have no choice. I can't let her miss class. She's missed too much already.
"Francie?" she asks dreamily, her lips turning up slightly at the corners.
"Yeah, sweetie, it's me. Look, you really need to get up now. It's Thursday, so you have to go to class. No time to sleep in now."
Sydney suddenly snaps awake, her eyes wide and alert. "What time is it now?" she demands, startling me with her panicky tone of voice.
"Ten to noon. Why?" I get no reply, as Sydney leaps from the bed and hurries into the bathroom we share. "Syd? Is everything okay?"
Seeing my worried look, she shoots me a quick smile while furiously brushing her teeth. She spits. "Fine," she states, in between gargles. "I'm just late for a meeting, that's all."
A meeting? She never said anything about a meeting last night. All I know is that she has a class today at one thirty. Thoroughly confused, I ask, "Wait, what meeting? You didn't say anything about it last night."
"I forgot. Did anyone call, by the way?" She looks at me in the mirror with a questioningly glance, all the while brushing her tangled hair. I marvel at the way she can get herself together in a matter of minutes. It takes me at least forty-five minutes to get ready. Sydney can clean herself up in less than ten minutes and still look stunning. She really amazes me sometimes.
"Uh, I don't think so," I frown, thinking back to earlier this morning. "Oh, wait! There was another wrong number. I swear, Syd, we need to get this number changed…"
But before I can even begin my tirade on the ridiculous number of wrong numbers we've been getting recently, Sydney interrupts me.
"Who did they want?"
"What?" I am taken back by her question. Since when did she care about wrong numbers? Something is up. Her strained look is starting to seriously trouble me. Something isn't right; I can smell her anxiety coming off in waves.
"Did the caller ask for anyone?" Not wanting for my reply, she continues, "Who?"
"Joey's Pizza, I think." I stare at her with a curious expression, waiting for her to explain this little outburst over a wrong number. She ignores my unspoken question. In fact, she rushes out of the bathroom, flings open her closet, and grabs a pair of jeans and a red shirt. Tossing them on the bed, she strips down to her underwear, completely disregarding my presence in the room.
"Syd, what's up?" My voice is fraught with worry mixed with a bit of panic. "Tell me what's going on."
"Nothing." Her response comes out muffled through the shirt she is struggling to put on. Her head pops out, and I stare at her with my arms crossed, a disbelieving look on my face.
"Nothing, I swear," she repeats. I do not move, and she sighs at length. "Listen, Francie, I really need to go. Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be back by three." She gives me a quick hug, grabs her keys from the counter, and disappears from the room. A moment later I hear the front door slam. I cringe. Something is wrong; Sydney never slams the door.
--
-Will's POV-
I am just about to ring the doorbell when the door is flung open and Sydney burst out. She runs into me, and I stumble backward. "Whoa, there!" I manage to exclaim before she pulls me upright.
"Will!" She looks surprised to see me. I give her a warm smile. Maybe she'll have lunch with me today. But just as I am about to ask, she brushes past me.
"Sydney, wait!" I call after her, jogging to catch up. "Where are you going? Have you had lunch?" She doesn't respond. I don't understand what she's doing. She doesn't have anything scheduled until one thirty. The reporter in me connects this incident with the one on Monday, when Sydney rushed out without saying where she was going or whom she was going to meet. My suspicions immediately aroused, I decide to follow her in my car.
She peels out of the driveway, tires screeching against the protesting concrete. I cringe. Running to my car, I know something is up. Something may even be wrong. Sydney never screeches her tires.
There will be more angst/romance from this point on, combined with some action/adventure when Sydney goes on missions. Feedback, please!
-V
