"A day in the life of Sydney Bristow"
Disclaimer: I own nothing…do you really think I'd be writing this if I did?
Summary: A very long day…(S/V). Sydney makes a deal with Sloane…how did she get to this point in her life? God, I suck at writing summaries…just read it.
A/N: I wrote this before I wrote the prologue—about three weeks ago (before my life flipped upside down). I hope to be writing new chapters soon, though I haven't done anything yet (except moped around.). Please review!!
I'd like to thank all my reviewers for the wonderful support that you've given me. It's been a hard few weeks, but hopefully I'll get back to writing soon.
Dedication: For Carlos—poet, writer, musician, friend. I will always remember you.
Chapter 1: Bittersweet Contradictions
July 20, 2002
"Have you ever hated your parents for anything?" The words are barely out of my mouth when I realize he doesn't have *parents*, he just has a mother…because of my mother.
We sit in the warehouse as we always do. We'll never be able to step out of the shadows.
"I mean, have you ever hated your mother for something she did?" I revise my sentence, bridging the momentary gap of silence.
He looks over at me, his green eyes searching my face.
"Yes." He hesitates, continuing when he sees me nod him on. "Yes. I have hated her for something she once did."
I think that he's done talking, but before I know it, he continues on, his eyes on the cold hard floor, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "Right after my father died, when I was eight, well, my mother was three months pregnant when my father died—pregnant with my baby sister. In December, two-weeks after my ninth birthday, my mother gave birth to her. I remember being so excited…"
A far away look comes into his dark green eyes, and I wonder what he sees in his mind's eye.
Vaughn's Flashback
// "Mrs.Vaughn, may I introduce you to your new beautiful daughter." These were the exact words of the pretty white-clad nurse who handed my mother the pink bundle which was my new baby sister. My mother took one look at the black hair, the deep green eyes, and the pale, pearly-white skin, and she looked away, handing me the baby. I looked at my little sister Isabella in awe, wondering how my mother could so callously reject such a beautiful creation. Exactly one week later, my mother and I were on a plane back to America…my little sister was not.//
"Vaughn?" He seems to be lost in a memory, and I wave my hand in front of his beautiful but glazed-over eyes. He blinks with a start, and continues speaking. "I didn't really understand at the time why my mother didn't like her. How could I understand that my little sister looked like a carbon-copy of my father, and that each glance at her was like acid into the fresh wound of my father's death?" He goes on, talking more to himself than he is to me; I've never seen him get so deeply lost in a memory.
"We had gone back to Normandy, my mother and I, supposedly so that she could have my sister in France, in the same hospital that both she and I were born in. Needless to say, we left without my sister. She stayed with my grandmother at the country estate. I just couldn't understand how my mother could be so cruel to leave Belle in that big house all alone with that my grandmother—I still don't understand."
He suddenly stops speaking, and, as if coming out of a trance, snaps his eyes to attention. "God, I'm sorry Vaughn." I don't really know what to say—what he said came as a bit of a shock to me, I always figured that even minus a dad, Vaughn's family was probably still a lot more functional than mine was…now I'm not so sure.
"Are you and your sister close?" I find it doubtful, considering she grew up in France and he grew up in America, but even so, I ask the question.
"Well, we are, that is—we were…she's dead." He says the words stiffly and with no emotion before turning away.
I'm not sure what to do. I want to go up to him and put my arms around him…to provide just a fraction of the comfort he's given me before. I take a tentative step forward before quickly closing the distance between us and taking his hand in mine. He smiles down at me, but it's such a sad smile that I'm tempted to cry.
Why does everything between us have to have such a sad, bittersweet feel to it? Our relationship is a contradiction: I love him, but I can't even go to dinner with him; We're good friends, but our relationship should be strictly work related. He's the only one I don't lie to, but my entire relationship with him is a lie.
"Why do you ask?" Huh? I look up, and I'm suddenly reminded of my original question.
"I just…well, you know how sometimes you feel better about your own problems when you hear someone else's? I know it's selfish, I just thought…" I let my words trail off. It was selfish, but if I had known what Vaughn's response would have been, I doubt I would have asked in the first place.
"It's not selfish, it's human. What's on your mind?" He seems happy to divert the conversation away from himself, so I decide to tell him. He's the only person I can tell anyway.
"I just…I mean… I was thinking about how much I hated the choices my parent's made. I mean, everything I thought I knew about my mom was a lie, and I hate my dad for leaving me like that…under that veil of lies for so long—but I can understand why he did. And sometimes I'm thankful. But God, sometimes I hate my mother for even having me…maybe it would have been better for everyone in the long run."
This time it is he who grabs my hands and pulls me close. "Don't say that Syd. I know your dad doesn't regret that she had you…I know *I* don't regret that she had you. You're this amazing person, and you've done so much good for the CIA…and it's more than that. I know that you've made differences in the people you know: your friends, Will, Francie, and, well…I know I'm better off for knowing you."
I lean my head into his chest…and for a few moments—milliseconds, even—I feel safe, with the man I love. I would give anything to freeze this moment forever. But time tics on, and the feeling of safety goes with it.
"You're sweet." I mean it, and I look into his eyes as I say it, to make my point clear. "It's just, realizing that my mother could be alive—that even her death could be fraud—is enough to make me want to scream."
He strokes my hair for a few minutes before stepping back, his comforting face being replaced by his 'business face'. "So, what's my counter- mission?" I beat him to the subject we've both been avoiding.
"You'll go to Bangladesh with your new partner, what's her name? Christina or something?"
"Christine. Christine Williams. She likes to be called Chris though." He nods, and the far-away look momentarily returns to his eyes.
His face quickly returns to normal and he continues, "Yes. You will go to Istanbul and steal Alexander Cazenov's computer security, which you will obtain by following a man who goes by the name of Ricardo Mellicci, just as planned in the SD-6 agenda. However, the switch of codes will not take place at LAX, as is usually done, but in Istanbul."
I look up at him in surprise, and he continues, "We think that anything done in LA may arise the suspicions of your partner, who is doubtlessly trusts you a good deal less than Dixon did."
I nod, not knowing what else to do. I know that after I leave this old warehouse, I will carefully drive to my house—making sure that I don't have any tails—creep silently into my apartment, praying Francie won't wake up, sleep for about two hours, and then continue my everyday life—lying to my friends about countless things. The thing that bothers me the most is not the fact that I lie, but that I've become so comfortable with it…it's second nature. Tomorrow I'll lie to my friends, and it'll be just another day in the life of Sydney Bristow.
A/N: Any reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thanks,
--Terin
Disclaimer: I own nothing…do you really think I'd be writing this if I did?
Summary: A very long day…(S/V). Sydney makes a deal with Sloane…how did she get to this point in her life? God, I suck at writing summaries…just read it.
A/N: I wrote this before I wrote the prologue—about three weeks ago (before my life flipped upside down). I hope to be writing new chapters soon, though I haven't done anything yet (except moped around.). Please review!!
I'd like to thank all my reviewers for the wonderful support that you've given me. It's been a hard few weeks, but hopefully I'll get back to writing soon.
Dedication: For Carlos—poet, writer, musician, friend. I will always remember you.
Chapter 1: Bittersweet Contradictions
July 20, 2002
"Have you ever hated your parents for anything?" The words are barely out of my mouth when I realize he doesn't have *parents*, he just has a mother…because of my mother.
We sit in the warehouse as we always do. We'll never be able to step out of the shadows.
"I mean, have you ever hated your mother for something she did?" I revise my sentence, bridging the momentary gap of silence.
He looks over at me, his green eyes searching my face.
"Yes." He hesitates, continuing when he sees me nod him on. "Yes. I have hated her for something she once did."
I think that he's done talking, but before I know it, he continues on, his eyes on the cold hard floor, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "Right after my father died, when I was eight, well, my mother was three months pregnant when my father died—pregnant with my baby sister. In December, two-weeks after my ninth birthday, my mother gave birth to her. I remember being so excited…"
A far away look comes into his dark green eyes, and I wonder what he sees in his mind's eye.
Vaughn's Flashback
// "Mrs.Vaughn, may I introduce you to your new beautiful daughter." These were the exact words of the pretty white-clad nurse who handed my mother the pink bundle which was my new baby sister. My mother took one look at the black hair, the deep green eyes, and the pale, pearly-white skin, and she looked away, handing me the baby. I looked at my little sister Isabella in awe, wondering how my mother could so callously reject such a beautiful creation. Exactly one week later, my mother and I were on a plane back to America…my little sister was not.//
"Vaughn?" He seems to be lost in a memory, and I wave my hand in front of his beautiful but glazed-over eyes. He blinks with a start, and continues speaking. "I didn't really understand at the time why my mother didn't like her. How could I understand that my little sister looked like a carbon-copy of my father, and that each glance at her was like acid into the fresh wound of my father's death?" He goes on, talking more to himself than he is to me; I've never seen him get so deeply lost in a memory.
"We had gone back to Normandy, my mother and I, supposedly so that she could have my sister in France, in the same hospital that both she and I were born in. Needless to say, we left without my sister. She stayed with my grandmother at the country estate. I just couldn't understand how my mother could be so cruel to leave Belle in that big house all alone with that my grandmother—I still don't understand."
He suddenly stops speaking, and, as if coming out of a trance, snaps his eyes to attention. "God, I'm sorry Vaughn." I don't really know what to say—what he said came as a bit of a shock to me, I always figured that even minus a dad, Vaughn's family was probably still a lot more functional than mine was…now I'm not so sure.
"Are you and your sister close?" I find it doubtful, considering she grew up in France and he grew up in America, but even so, I ask the question.
"Well, we are, that is—we were…she's dead." He says the words stiffly and with no emotion before turning away.
I'm not sure what to do. I want to go up to him and put my arms around him…to provide just a fraction of the comfort he's given me before. I take a tentative step forward before quickly closing the distance between us and taking his hand in mine. He smiles down at me, but it's such a sad smile that I'm tempted to cry.
Why does everything between us have to have such a sad, bittersweet feel to it? Our relationship is a contradiction: I love him, but I can't even go to dinner with him; We're good friends, but our relationship should be strictly work related. He's the only one I don't lie to, but my entire relationship with him is a lie.
"Why do you ask?" Huh? I look up, and I'm suddenly reminded of my original question.
"I just…well, you know how sometimes you feel better about your own problems when you hear someone else's? I know it's selfish, I just thought…" I let my words trail off. It was selfish, but if I had known what Vaughn's response would have been, I doubt I would have asked in the first place.
"It's not selfish, it's human. What's on your mind?" He seems happy to divert the conversation away from himself, so I decide to tell him. He's the only person I can tell anyway.
"I just…I mean… I was thinking about how much I hated the choices my parent's made. I mean, everything I thought I knew about my mom was a lie, and I hate my dad for leaving me like that…under that veil of lies for so long—but I can understand why he did. And sometimes I'm thankful. But God, sometimes I hate my mother for even having me…maybe it would have been better for everyone in the long run."
This time it is he who grabs my hands and pulls me close. "Don't say that Syd. I know your dad doesn't regret that she had you…I know *I* don't regret that she had you. You're this amazing person, and you've done so much good for the CIA…and it's more than that. I know that you've made differences in the people you know: your friends, Will, Francie, and, well…I know I'm better off for knowing you."
I lean my head into his chest…and for a few moments—milliseconds, even—I feel safe, with the man I love. I would give anything to freeze this moment forever. But time tics on, and the feeling of safety goes with it.
"You're sweet." I mean it, and I look into his eyes as I say it, to make my point clear. "It's just, realizing that my mother could be alive—that even her death could be fraud—is enough to make me want to scream."
He strokes my hair for a few minutes before stepping back, his comforting face being replaced by his 'business face'. "So, what's my counter- mission?" I beat him to the subject we've both been avoiding.
"You'll go to Bangladesh with your new partner, what's her name? Christina or something?"
"Christine. Christine Williams. She likes to be called Chris though." He nods, and the far-away look momentarily returns to his eyes.
His face quickly returns to normal and he continues, "Yes. You will go to Istanbul and steal Alexander Cazenov's computer security, which you will obtain by following a man who goes by the name of Ricardo Mellicci, just as planned in the SD-6 agenda. However, the switch of codes will not take place at LAX, as is usually done, but in Istanbul."
I look up at him in surprise, and he continues, "We think that anything done in LA may arise the suspicions of your partner, who is doubtlessly trusts you a good deal less than Dixon did."
I nod, not knowing what else to do. I know that after I leave this old warehouse, I will carefully drive to my house—making sure that I don't have any tails—creep silently into my apartment, praying Francie won't wake up, sleep for about two hours, and then continue my everyday life—lying to my friends about countless things. The thing that bothers me the most is not the fact that I lie, but that I've become so comfortable with it…it's second nature. Tomorrow I'll lie to my friends, and it'll be just another day in the life of Sydney Bristow.
A/N: Any reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thanks,
--Terin