Chapter 10
Home. Sydney never thought that anything would look so sweet. The one thing she longed for was a nice long conversation with Francie, she always had a soothing effect on her. Syd stood at the door, fumbling with her keys, thinking about what she was going to tell her friend. She hadn't planned on having to make up a cover story, but she hadn't exactly expected a deadly car chase either. Maybe she won't notice. Syd was wearing a sleeveless shirt, not good for hiding gashed arms. Oh, she'll notice... She finally got the door unlocked and pushed her way in.
"Syd?" Francie walked around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. "Oh my... What happened to you!?!"
She gave Francie a confused look, trying to act like she didn't know what she was talking about. "Syd, your arm."
"Oh!" She looked down and gave it a dismissing glance. "It's not so bad," she looked up and gave a small smile, "you should see the rest of me."
"How..."
"Oh, it was no biggy." She decided to be honest, to a certain extent. "I was in a car accident."
"Syd!"
"It wasn't a big deal. Really. I didn't even have to go to the hospital."
"How did you get so messed up?"
"The window shattered. It kind of...well you can see what it did."
"Wow... Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled at Francie reassuringly. "You know what? I think I'm gonna go take a nice long bath. Good night."
"'Night." She still sounded a little doubtful, but let the subject drop.
********
Will lie in bed, starring at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't sleep. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sydney. Normally this wouldn't have been disturbing, but tonight it was. First he saw her with red hair, shoving some guy's head into a banister; with blue hair, lying unconscious in Vaughn's arms; then he saw the Sydney that he knew. It always happened the same way. The "regular" Syd would walk up, give him a big hug, then she would whisper something in some foreign language; someone would ring the doorbell, then break down the door and shoot her in the back. The pictures flashed through his mind repeatedly like a never-ending slideshow.
He'd had enough. There was no way that he was going to get any sleep tonight, so he decided to make sure that Sydney was safe. He got up and started pacing around his room. Then it hit him. He grabbed a phone book from his bedside table, and looked up the number for Michael Vaughn.
Home. Sydney never thought that anything would look so sweet. The one thing she longed for was a nice long conversation with Francie, she always had a soothing effect on her. Syd stood at the door, fumbling with her keys, thinking about what she was going to tell her friend. She hadn't planned on having to make up a cover story, but she hadn't exactly expected a deadly car chase either. Maybe she won't notice. Syd was wearing a sleeveless shirt, not good for hiding gashed arms. Oh, she'll notice... She finally got the door unlocked and pushed her way in.
"Syd?" Francie walked around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. "Oh my... What happened to you!?!"
She gave Francie a confused look, trying to act like she didn't know what she was talking about. "Syd, your arm."
"Oh!" She looked down and gave it a dismissing glance. "It's not so bad," she looked up and gave a small smile, "you should see the rest of me."
"How..."
"Oh, it was no biggy." She decided to be honest, to a certain extent. "I was in a car accident."
"Syd!"
"It wasn't a big deal. Really. I didn't even have to go to the hospital."
"How did you get so messed up?"
"The window shattered. It kind of...well you can see what it did."
"Wow... Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled at Francie reassuringly. "You know what? I think I'm gonna go take a nice long bath. Good night."
"'Night." She still sounded a little doubtful, but let the subject drop.
********
Will lie in bed, starring at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't sleep. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sydney. Normally this wouldn't have been disturbing, but tonight it was. First he saw her with red hair, shoving some guy's head into a banister; with blue hair, lying unconscious in Vaughn's arms; then he saw the Sydney that he knew. It always happened the same way. The "regular" Syd would walk up, give him a big hug, then she would whisper something in some foreign language; someone would ring the doorbell, then break down the door and shoot her in the back. The pictures flashed through his mind repeatedly like a never-ending slideshow.
He'd had enough. There was no way that he was going to get any sleep tonight, so he decided to make sure that Sydney was safe. He got up and started pacing around his room. Then it hit him. He grabbed a phone book from his bedside table, and looked up the number for Michael Vaughn.