Title: "Sacrifices"

Author: Waterdancer aka AquarianLady

Email: jch114@hotmail.com

Website: none at this time.

Feedback: YES! Flames will be ignored.

Distribution: CD ALL DAY. Anyone else please ask.

Disclaimer: Anything Alias related are all the property of ABC and Touchstone Pictures. It is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.

Summary: Will's post-ATY decisions affect his future and everyone that he loves.-Character death.

Rating: PG for right now. Will go from PG-13 to R

Classification: Alternate Universe.

A/N: Thank you to Robin, and Thorne for the beta. All italicized words are his thoughts and flashbacks. Enjoy!

From across the room, Sydney watched Will toss and turn in his sleep.  His face was contorted as if he were in pain.  Amy had told her that he had been having a hard time sleeping, and she understood that pain.  She had done the same thing after they murdered Danny. She rubbed her forehead, and turned back to her book.

"How long do you plan to sit there?" he said, startling her from her reading. He stretched and rolled over.

"I didn't know that you were awake," she replied, closing her book. "How are you?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied, sitting up, his voice sounding tired. "What are you doing here?"

Amy's calls had become more and more concerned as the days passed.  She had made her first call to Sydney hours after the funeral, and she had continued to call as she watched her brother fall apart in front of her eyes.

"Well, Amy called me and said that you may want to talk," she said as she put her book on the floor.

"She shouldn't have done that. I'm fine, Sydney.  Really, " he responded, smiling weakly.  It was a familiar refrain between them.  It had been ever since she had seen him in Taipei in a blood soaked sweatshirt.  How many times had he lied to her, told her that he was fine, when he was obviously not?  She couldn't remember.  "What time is it?"

Looking down at her watch, she replied, "It's 8:00." She saw him look towards the windows and notice the darkness.  Saw him realize that it was night.

"Where's Kayla?"

"She's with Amy.  She told me to let you know that she's going to keep her for a few days, and for you to get some rest. I've got us some dinner downstairs, "she said, looking to him, hoping for some sort of response. There was nothing.

"Will?"

"I'll be down in a minute."

***

Sydney was taking out plates for dinner when Will came down to the kitchen.  "Sydney, I can get that," he said as she reached into the cabinet. "You really don't have to go through all of this trouble for me. You go have a seat at the table." He reached over her head and started to pull out a glass.

"Will, stop it," she said. "I think I'm capable of taking out dishes." She placed the plate down on the counter.  "Go take a seat, please.  I'm taking care of you for once."  

He looked at her as if he wanted to protest more, but instead he simply said, "Thank you, Sydney."  She looked in his eyes, and realized what Amy had said was true. That light that was once there when he was around Francie was gone; dull, unblinking eyes that were devoid of any emotion had replaced them. Her voice cracked, and she could feel the tears starting to form in her eyes. "You're welcome, Will."  He walked out of the kitchen.

She carried everything out to the table, only to find him gone.  "Will?" She placed the glasses down on the table. 

"I'm in here," he called out from the living room.  She found him sitting on the floor in front of the couch, wine glass in one hand, and flipping through a photo album with the other.

"I shouldn't have left that out, Will. I'm sorry," she said as she sat down on the couch.

"No, it's okay.  I haven't looked through these in a few months."  His voice was lifeless as he continued to mechanically turned the pages.  "Do you ever regret what we do, Sydney?"

"Sometimes," she replied, unsure of where this line of questioning was heading.


"Francie always asked me if I regretted anything in my life. 'Never' was always my response.  That wasn't necessarily true. I regretted lying to her before and after we were married, and I regret finding out the truth about you," he revealed before taking another sip from his glass.

She knew the pain that she felt was twisting her face. She could understand what he was feeling, but to hear his feelings said with such calmness, and certainty made her catch her breath. "Wh—What do you mean?"

He looked up at her from his position on the floor, and continued, "Sydney, when I say that, I don't mean to hurt you. I mean that if I hadn't found out about you, Fran and I would have never fallen in love, gotten married, and she'd still be alive."

"Will, it's not your fault that this happened. You should know that," Sydney said patting his shoulder. She didn't bother to correct him about his marriage.  It was obvious to her that her two friends had been meant for one another.  They would have married, but if Will had not been sucked into Sydney's world, Francie would still be alive today.  Sydney couldn't deny that truth.

"But I don't, Syd. I really don't.  There were so many times that I wanted to tell her the truth—tell her the truth about me, you, Vaughn, and why I go on so many trips for the newspaper when I'm just a 'feature' writer. Of course, I didn't tell her the truth because in my stupidity, I thought it would keep her and Kayla safe. The not knowing. That was supposed to keep them safe. 'Ignorance is bliss,' " he sighed.  He stopped at their wedding picture.  He traced the outline of her face in the picture as he took another sip of wine.  "She was so beautiful that day," he whispered.  He went to another picture--a picture of Francie and Kayla.  "Do you see that pendant?" he asked, pointed to a solitary diamond hanging around Francie's neck.

She nodded slowly, biting her lip. Seeing her friend smiling back at her from the pictures was tearing at her.  Francie was beautiful, always had been, but the joy she had experienced after her marriage, after having her daughter, had made her glow with a beauty that Sydney had never seen before.

"It was my mom's.  She wanted to give it to the mother of my first child, like my grandmother did for her when I was born.  She gave it to Francie two weeks before Kayla was born." His voice cracked with pain as he again traced the outline of her face. "I knew that whatever I did or said half a world away, when I came home, there was Francie and Kayla. That normalcy.  When I was home, I was just Will, husband to a wonderful woman and father to a beautiful daughter.  As long as I had them here, I knew that what I—we were doing was okay. Does that make any sense?" he asked, looking over at her, looking for her to confirm his thoughts.

She couldn't tell him how much she had wished that she had that same normalcy that he had attained with Francie.  Not now.  "It does, Will.  You should know that I think—no, I know Francie would have married you regardless of what was going on.  She loves you," she said, her own voice catching. "She loved you."

Will looked down in his glass.  "I know she did," he replied.  "I love her so damn much."  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You came here to look in on me, and how do I repay you?" He stood up from the couch, and held his hand out to her. "Let's eat." 

***

"Are you sure you don't want to talk any more?" Sydney asked as Will walked her to the door.  "I could stay longer."

"You've done plenty, really," he said, sighing. "I know that I've said it enough, but thank you."

She turned and hugged him. "I miss her, too, Will."

"I know you do, Syd. I know," he mumbled into her neck. 

She turned to leave but then stopped mid-stride and looked over her shoulder.  She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.  "Remember that Vaughn needs you to come in for debriefing later this week."

She saw the understanding in his eyes, and the anger.  The CIA didn't allow anyone time to grieve.  As Vaughn once said to her, they prefer you to be emotionless, even in grief.  "I'll be there," he replied, closing the door.