Twenty Questions
Author-Alias_addict
Feedback- But of course
Distribution: Whatever, just tell me where I can see it
Disclaimer-Nothings mine, It's JJs, Touchstone, Bad Robot, yadda yadda
Summary- Sydney regrets going away with Noah and betraying Vaughn after Noah leaves her. Asks herself a lot of questions about her life. Sydney/Vaughn, Angst
Rating- PG
He ran away from me, she says. He ran away, but why? What did I ever do to him? She asks this into empty air, perhaps wishing somehow the wind will answer her, whisper in her ear and tell her what's wrong with her. Tell her the answers. She knows it will not, but she repeats her question over and over. Why? She sifts through her mind for an answer, something she knows that can not be found. She doesn't care. Her life is nothing, crumbled into a heap of lies and deception. Around this pile floats a single white dove, just out of her reach. She tries to get up on the pile to catch the dove, but sinks down under. The dove is normalcy. This is her life, constant. She can see what her life would have been, it flaunts itself in her face. She tries to overcome her life, herself, tries to reach it, but the closer she gets the farther the dove flitters away. If only she could catch it. She could have all the answers. She remembers something she once read.
/So now you have all the answers. But what is the question?/
I don't care about the question, she tells herself. That's not important right now. So she moves on, walking slowly. She knows where she is going the answers will not come from, but instead, the questions. But this is the one place she must go. She has avoided it, she knows this. Trying to shield herself from the truth. Maybe, then, she wasn't looking for the answers. Perhaps she was hiding from them. Too afraid of what they might tell her, afraid they might tell her what she thinks they will. She walks in the shadows, avoiding the yellow glare of the street lights. She likes the darkness. Whoever said light was pureness was wrong, she tells herself. Light is too examining, too exposing. The darkness was pure. It left you alone, hid you. Because that's what she was doing now. Hiding away from the truth, the answers, knowing soon they would catch up to her. But was she searching or hiding? As she walks past another streetlight, she sees her shadow reflected in the gravel road. You cannot hide, she realizes. Only run away. She was running away, hoping that her past would fly off with each step, leaving her clean and new. Hoping she could wipe away the chalk. But she knew there would always be smudges.
/You can't wipe away your past, only draw your future./ Vaughn had said this to her, when she had asked him for the answers, answers he could not give. This was before he knew, before she had hurt him. Before she had left him out in the cold, standing dejectedly. Before she had betrayed him.
"Vaughn..." She whispers. "What have I done to you?"
She walked on, still in the shadows. Perhaps he was the question, or, more likely, the answer. Is that what I'm running from? She asks herself. Having him be the answer? Because this is what she's thought all along. This is what she is running from, hiding from. This raises up another question for her. Is she hiding from the truth, or from herself? She breaks into a run. Too many questions. Not enough answers. It is a cool night, too cool. Too perfect for how she's feeling. She sees the warehouse up ahead. She knows he will not be there- he doesn't owe her anything. There was no call for a meeting on any sort, but she needed some sort of comfort, some demented shade of normalcy in her twisted world. She needs to cling onto something she can remember, something that reminds her of the before. Not the during. She didn't think she'd get an after. A second chance. That wasn't how these things worked. She sprinted, willing her thoughts to evaporate, wanting them to. Was she hiding from herself? She slowed as she neared the gate. Too many memories here. Too much of a reminder of what she couldn't have. It was her fault, she knew this. You fool, she told herself. You were carrying him out of the fire and you dropped him. You killed him. In a sense, this was true. She had killed him emotionally, he had said enough to know this was true. Idiot, she told herself. Look what you've done. You've killed him- you killed yourself. You baca. She opened the gate, it didn't squeak. The hinges just allowed entrance. Tempting her. She didn't need any temptations. This was the last hope she had, the last net with which to catch the dove. She walked inside. There was the desk, papers scattered on it's surface. There was one file on top, a manilla folder. She wanted to walk over, she knew it was hers. But she didn't. She stayed glues to the spot, taking in her surroundings. Remembering. She knew it would be safer just to walk back outside, but she didn't. She wasn't sure what she expected to find here. Something to tell her he was alright. Maybe that he was not. That he wasn't over it yet. The thought flickered in the back of her head. Perhaps she didn't want him to be alright, that she wanted him to feel the pain and suffering that he had inflicted upon her, or that Noah had. But she had forgotten. That was what she had done to him. Which brought her to another question: Why was she here? She could answer that, but it wasn't the answer she wanted. She felt trapped in an endless game of twenty questions. Was Vaughn the answer? That is what she was hiding from, she knew. She wouldn't admit it to herself. Why was she hiding from him, if he was the answer? Was it because she loved him? Because whenever she loved someone they died? Or were taken away from her? Is that what she was hiding from? No, she told herself. I do not love Vaughn. I can't love Vaughn. I can't. She repeated this over and over in her head, silent tears falling from her eyes. She knew the truth. She had the answer all along. She was hiding from the answer. She walked over to his desk. Crying. I do not love Vaughn. I do not love Vaughn. As if repetition would make it true. She sorted through his papers. It was her folder, she had been right. She opened it. Inside, papers. Beside them, her picture torn to shreds. I can't love him. I can't. The tears came harder. She walked over and hunched herself up on a crate. She was just lying to herself, and where was this going to get her? Does the truth come through lies? Or did she already know the truth? Or was she trying to save him? Give him the parachute, go down with the plane. She got back up and walked over to the desk. Searching for something, she didn't know what. Found a white box. Opened it. Inside, a necklace. Regular silver chain holding a small angel. A guardian angel, the paper inside told her. It was padded with strips of paper from her torn picture. I can't love him, she told herself, never. She was leaning on the fence. The cage. It held all she ever wanted, all she ever had. Or didn't have. She slid down the chain fence until she was sitting on the floor. Tears glistening on the concrete floor. I can't love him, she told herself over and over again. She had already denied herself the lie she didn't love him. She told herself the truth. She couldn't. She sat there for a minute, just breathing. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Someone had told her this was the best way to breath. Salty tears on her lips. Footsteps. She turned her head. There was no one there. She was just imagining them, wishing them to be there. Wishing them to be his, wishing him to take her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be alright. She willed them to be there. They were. She heard them. They were coming down the sidewalk, in such a stance that she guessed he was running, if it was him. I can't love him, she told herself frantically. I can't. They neared, approaching the gate. Entering it. She was crying. I can't love him. He walked over to the desk, saw his stuff rearranged. Looked around. Saw her. Froze. I cant love him, she told herself. I can't. Walked a couple steps over.
"Sydney?" His voice, semi-hopeful. All she wanted to hear. The last thing she wanted to hear. A couple more steps. "Sydney, is that you?" She was standing by now, leaning on the fence, silvery tears still littering the floor. Like rain.
"Vaughn..." The name brought tears, more then she had expected. She shook her head and turned away. Shaking. He walked over.
"Sydney...are you ok?"
She shook her head.
"Sydney?" He reached in and pulled her shoulder, turning her to face him.
"Don't touch me." She whispered, even though that was all she wanted. "I can't..." She turned anyway, saw the hurt in his face. He stepped back.
"Sydney?" His voice, worried. She turned, began walking away. He caught her shoulder again, this time ignoring her protests, brought her back.
"No. No. I can't. I can't." She said it over and over.
"You can't what?" He reached his hand up to her face, stroked her cheek, wiped away her tears.
"Don't touch me! Please! I can't. Not you too. I can't." He withdrew his hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I can't. I can't." She was in his arms. Stayed there, not struggling.
"No...no. Can't. I can't."
"Shhh..." His shirt became wet from her tears. "Can't what?"
She didn't understand why he wasn't mad at her. She didn't understand why he had to be the answer. "Can't hurt you, too. I can't. I can't love you." Her tears seeped through his shirt, through his skin, down to his heart. She felt his grip loosen, a silence. "I can't. Don't you see?" Her voice was barely a whisper. She felt herself being lifted from his arms. He still had his hands on her shoulders- she was leaning against the fence. He was staring at her intently. Finally, he spoke.
"Is that the answer? The answer you want?" She looked up, eyes red and swollen. Into his eyes. Into the forbidden haven of green. She shook her head.
"Then change it. Follow your heart, not your head." He reached up and brushed the tears off her cheek with his hand. Stroked her cheek, then cradled her chin in his hands. Then, his voice, hardly a whisper.
"I love you, too." With that, he dropped his hand and walked out of the warehouse.
Author-Alias_addict
Feedback- But of course
Distribution: Whatever, just tell me where I can see it
Disclaimer-Nothings mine, It's JJs, Touchstone, Bad Robot, yadda yadda
Summary- Sydney regrets going away with Noah and betraying Vaughn after Noah leaves her. Asks herself a lot of questions about her life. Sydney/Vaughn, Angst
Rating- PG
He ran away from me, she says. He ran away, but why? What did I ever do to him? She asks this into empty air, perhaps wishing somehow the wind will answer her, whisper in her ear and tell her what's wrong with her. Tell her the answers. She knows it will not, but she repeats her question over and over. Why? She sifts through her mind for an answer, something she knows that can not be found. She doesn't care. Her life is nothing, crumbled into a heap of lies and deception. Around this pile floats a single white dove, just out of her reach. She tries to get up on the pile to catch the dove, but sinks down under. The dove is normalcy. This is her life, constant. She can see what her life would have been, it flaunts itself in her face. She tries to overcome her life, herself, tries to reach it, but the closer she gets the farther the dove flitters away. If only she could catch it. She could have all the answers. She remembers something she once read.
/So now you have all the answers. But what is the question?/
I don't care about the question, she tells herself. That's not important right now. So she moves on, walking slowly. She knows where she is going the answers will not come from, but instead, the questions. But this is the one place she must go. She has avoided it, she knows this. Trying to shield herself from the truth. Maybe, then, she wasn't looking for the answers. Perhaps she was hiding from them. Too afraid of what they might tell her, afraid they might tell her what she thinks they will. She walks in the shadows, avoiding the yellow glare of the street lights. She likes the darkness. Whoever said light was pureness was wrong, she tells herself. Light is too examining, too exposing. The darkness was pure. It left you alone, hid you. Because that's what she was doing now. Hiding away from the truth, the answers, knowing soon they would catch up to her. But was she searching or hiding? As she walks past another streetlight, she sees her shadow reflected in the gravel road. You cannot hide, she realizes. Only run away. She was running away, hoping that her past would fly off with each step, leaving her clean and new. Hoping she could wipe away the chalk. But she knew there would always be smudges.
/You can't wipe away your past, only draw your future./ Vaughn had said this to her, when she had asked him for the answers, answers he could not give. This was before he knew, before she had hurt him. Before she had left him out in the cold, standing dejectedly. Before she had betrayed him.
"Vaughn..." She whispers. "What have I done to you?"
She walked on, still in the shadows. Perhaps he was the question, or, more likely, the answer. Is that what I'm running from? She asks herself. Having him be the answer? Because this is what she's thought all along. This is what she is running from, hiding from. This raises up another question for her. Is she hiding from the truth, or from herself? She breaks into a run. Too many questions. Not enough answers. It is a cool night, too cool. Too perfect for how she's feeling. She sees the warehouse up ahead. She knows he will not be there- he doesn't owe her anything. There was no call for a meeting on any sort, but she needed some sort of comfort, some demented shade of normalcy in her twisted world. She needs to cling onto something she can remember, something that reminds her of the before. Not the during. She didn't think she'd get an after. A second chance. That wasn't how these things worked. She sprinted, willing her thoughts to evaporate, wanting them to. Was she hiding from herself? She slowed as she neared the gate. Too many memories here. Too much of a reminder of what she couldn't have. It was her fault, she knew this. You fool, she told herself. You were carrying him out of the fire and you dropped him. You killed him. In a sense, this was true. She had killed him emotionally, he had said enough to know this was true. Idiot, she told herself. Look what you've done. You've killed him- you killed yourself. You baca. She opened the gate, it didn't squeak. The hinges just allowed entrance. Tempting her. She didn't need any temptations. This was the last hope she had, the last net with which to catch the dove. She walked inside. There was the desk, papers scattered on it's surface. There was one file on top, a manilla folder. She wanted to walk over, she knew it was hers. But she didn't. She stayed glues to the spot, taking in her surroundings. Remembering. She knew it would be safer just to walk back outside, but she didn't. She wasn't sure what she expected to find here. Something to tell her he was alright. Maybe that he was not. That he wasn't over it yet. The thought flickered in the back of her head. Perhaps she didn't want him to be alright, that she wanted him to feel the pain and suffering that he had inflicted upon her, or that Noah had. But she had forgotten. That was what she had done to him. Which brought her to another question: Why was she here? She could answer that, but it wasn't the answer she wanted. She felt trapped in an endless game of twenty questions. Was Vaughn the answer? That is what she was hiding from, she knew. She wouldn't admit it to herself. Why was she hiding from him, if he was the answer? Was it because she loved him? Because whenever she loved someone they died? Or were taken away from her? Is that what she was hiding from? No, she told herself. I do not love Vaughn. I can't love Vaughn. I can't. She repeated this over and over in her head, silent tears falling from her eyes. She knew the truth. She had the answer all along. She was hiding from the answer. She walked over to his desk. Crying. I do not love Vaughn. I do not love Vaughn. As if repetition would make it true. She sorted through his papers. It was her folder, she had been right. She opened it. Inside, papers. Beside them, her picture torn to shreds. I can't love him. I can't. The tears came harder. She walked over and hunched herself up on a crate. She was just lying to herself, and where was this going to get her? Does the truth come through lies? Or did she already know the truth? Or was she trying to save him? Give him the parachute, go down with the plane. She got back up and walked over to the desk. Searching for something, she didn't know what. Found a white box. Opened it. Inside, a necklace. Regular silver chain holding a small angel. A guardian angel, the paper inside told her. It was padded with strips of paper from her torn picture. I can't love him, she told herself, never. She was leaning on the fence. The cage. It held all she ever wanted, all she ever had. Or didn't have. She slid down the chain fence until she was sitting on the floor. Tears glistening on the concrete floor. I can't love him, she told herself over and over again. She had already denied herself the lie she didn't love him. She told herself the truth. She couldn't. She sat there for a minute, just breathing. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Someone had told her this was the best way to breath. Salty tears on her lips. Footsteps. She turned her head. There was no one there. She was just imagining them, wishing them to be there. Wishing them to be his, wishing him to take her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be alright. She willed them to be there. They were. She heard them. They were coming down the sidewalk, in such a stance that she guessed he was running, if it was him. I can't love him, she told herself frantically. I can't. They neared, approaching the gate. Entering it. She was crying. I can't love him. He walked over to the desk, saw his stuff rearranged. Looked around. Saw her. Froze. I cant love him, she told herself. I can't. Walked a couple steps over.
"Sydney?" His voice, semi-hopeful. All she wanted to hear. The last thing she wanted to hear. A couple more steps. "Sydney, is that you?" She was standing by now, leaning on the fence, silvery tears still littering the floor. Like rain.
"Vaughn..." The name brought tears, more then she had expected. She shook her head and turned away. Shaking. He walked over.
"Sydney...are you ok?"
She shook her head.
"Sydney?" He reached in and pulled her shoulder, turning her to face him.
"Don't touch me." She whispered, even though that was all she wanted. "I can't..." She turned anyway, saw the hurt in his face. He stepped back.
"Sydney?" His voice, worried. She turned, began walking away. He caught her shoulder again, this time ignoring her protests, brought her back.
"No. No. I can't. I can't." She said it over and over.
"You can't what?" He reached his hand up to her face, stroked her cheek, wiped away her tears.
"Don't touch me! Please! I can't. Not you too. I can't." He withdrew his hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I can't. I can't." She was in his arms. Stayed there, not struggling.
"No...no. Can't. I can't."
"Shhh..." His shirt became wet from her tears. "Can't what?"
She didn't understand why he wasn't mad at her. She didn't understand why he had to be the answer. "Can't hurt you, too. I can't. I can't love you." Her tears seeped through his shirt, through his skin, down to his heart. She felt his grip loosen, a silence. "I can't. Don't you see?" Her voice was barely a whisper. She felt herself being lifted from his arms. He still had his hands on her shoulders- she was leaning against the fence. He was staring at her intently. Finally, he spoke.
"Is that the answer? The answer you want?" She looked up, eyes red and swollen. Into his eyes. Into the forbidden haven of green. She shook her head.
"Then change it. Follow your heart, not your head." He reached up and brushed the tears off her cheek with his hand. Stroked her cheek, then cradled her chin in his hands. Then, his voice, hardly a whisper.
"I love you, too." With that, he dropped his hand and walked out of the warehouse.