Please see Prologue for general info and disclaimers.
*~*
Nine hours earlier…
"Hello? Francie? What are you— Wait, Will did what? He— Okay, you're going to have to slow down. I can't—"
Sydney pulled her cell phone away from her ear and smiled politely at the agent sharing the elevator with her as the doors slid open to reveal a stark white room. "Hold on a sec, Francie. I'm picking up a lot of static. Let me get out of this hallway…"
She perceived the pulse of red light before her senses actually discriminated it. With a shiver, she realized that one day – maybe even one day soon – that light would flash around her and she'd have grown so accustomed to it that she wouldn't even be aware of the burst. "How sad," she muttered out loud before raising her hand back up to her ear. "Okay, I'm back. Now what's this about Will and balloons? So he can't— Yes, I— I know that sounds like a big deal, but— Francie, it's a party. I'm sure people'll understand if— What? Will's a dork? Sure, I'll agree with that, but what do you want to do about— Well, how about this? I'll take the afternoon off from work and help you decorate the apartment and— I know I'm the guest of honor, but, as the guest of honor, I'm saying it's okay for me to help you. It's not that big—"
As Sydney departed from the white room and stepped into the heart of SD-6's operational center, she found herself almost colliding into Dixon. She grabbed onto one of his forearms, he grabbed onto his cup of coffee, and they grinned into each other's faces. "Francie? I've gotta go. I'm going to help you with the decorations, and that's that. I should be back around one. Bye."
"Everything okay?" Dixon asked, extricating himself from her grip. She looked fine, the happiest he'd seen her in a few weeks as a matter of fact, but he just couldn't seem to shake the need to reassure himself that she was still there, still whole.
"Oh, everything's fine. It's just that Francie's gotten it into her head that she's…" Sydney drew her eyebrows together when she noticed the far-off look in her partner's eyes. "Dixon? You still here?"
His eyes refocused themselves on her smile, a peek of white teeth behind glossy crimson lips. Look at her. She's happy, he attempted to convince himself. The smile. The dimples. The way the corners of her eyes are crinkled together in laughter. But he knew from first-hand experience just how good of an actress she could be. "Yeah, I'm sorry. You were saying?"
"Oh, just that everything's fine. Francie's freaking out a little about this party tonight, but it's nothing I can't handle. Hey, you and Diane are coming, right? You have to come. It should be fun. Or I hope it'll be fun. For Francie's sake."
"I thought the party's supposed to be a…"
"Surprise?" Sydney supplied, leading the two of them to their desks. "Yeah, it still is. Don't ask. Long story."
"Okay." His eyes continued to rake over her every movement and facial expression as she slipped off her jacket, hung it on the back of her chair, and turned on her computer, all the while humming a lively tune. If she was feigning happiness, she was doing a damn good job of it.
"Hey, Dixon, could I— What? You're staring at me again. What is it?"
He blinked and then stretched his mouth into a grin. Sydney wasn't the only accomplished actor within SD-6. "I was just thinking that you're the most radiant twenty-eight year old I've seen today. Happy birthday, Syd."
There was no question that the girlish squeak that escaped from her mouth was genuine. "My first birthday wish," she squealed as she threw her arms around Dixon's neck and felt him plant a warm kiss on her cheek. "Well, I guess Francie would technically be the first, but I'm not going to count her since she woke me up at six complaining about how there's still a lot to be done for the party."
He chuckled and held her at arm's length, this time openly scrutinizing her. "So, how's it feel to be twenty-eight?"
"Much like twenty-seven, unsurprisingly."
"Yeah, you say that now, but wait till you turn forty. That's when the addition of a year to your age really hits you."
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled her agreement as she lowered herself into her seat and pretended to be busy logging into the system. But the minute she was certain that he was no longer looking at her, she trained her downcast eyes in his direction.
He's graying. That was her immediate thought, which was inexplicably followed by Marcus Dixon, SD-6 ID number 30408-12668. But he's so much more than a ten-digit number. He's a father…a husband…
A friend.
"Hey, Dixon? Do mind if I ask you a question?"
His astonishment was evident in the way in which his eyebrows shot upwards, but he masked it expertly. "Not at all. You know you can ask me anything."
"It's kind of personal."
"Do we need to…" He glanced in the direction of the elevator.
"No, I— We should be okay." She pursed her lips together and appeared in conflict before blurting out, in a hushed voice, "Have you ever thought of leaving? For good?"
"Leaving…?" Dixon furrowed the area between his brows and leaned forward in his chair to ask her to elaborate when he noticed her eyes darting all over the room: to her right, the ceiling, Marshall's office, his left shoulder, the floor, the kitchenette, the conference room… "Oh. Well, yeah, sure, I guess. I think we all have at one time or another. After a bad day. Or a worse than bad day."
"But you'd never actually do it?"
His response was swift and uncompromising. "No."
"Why not? I mean, don't you ever get tired of…things? Of all the birthdays and anniversaries and recitals and parent-teacher conferences you're never there for? Don't you ever wish you could just start over? Be someone – anyone – who doesn't have to do…this?"
He sympathized with the desperation he saw creeping into her eyes and reached out to take one of her hands in his. "Of course I have, but… People say policemen and firemen are heroes because they spend their days keeping people safe and saving their lives. Well, we do the same things, Syd, except that we don't get to go home and bask in the glow of our accomplishments. Day in and day out, we do what we do not for the external validation, but because someone has to and we're that someone. Yes, it's hard and, yes, sometimes you just want to throw in the towel, but you don't and I don't and no one else here does because we know what the big picture is and we know that what we're doing is invaluable to society."
Sydney pulled her hand away and pretended to use it to rub her forehead in confusion when what she was really experiencing was heartbreak. Up until that moment, she'd never truly grasped how much SD-6 had indoctrinated Dixon with their supposed 'ideals.' What would he think if he knew the truth, she asked herself bitterly. He doesn't deserve this. None of us do. "You don't understand," she mumbled, her eyes wandering everywhere except where she knew his would be.
But I do, he wanted to tell her. I know what it's like to wake in the middle of the night, a strangled cry still lodged in your throat as your body's drenched in your own sweat. I know what it's like to roll over in bed, squeeze your eyes shut, and pray that sleep will silence the muffled shouts in your head. I know what it's like to live a life that doesn't feel like your own. But…
Dixon propped his elbows on top of his desk and rested his head in the palms of his hands, the expression on his face the epitome of wisdom. "Last weekend, I took the kids to a movie. It was one of those spy thrillers all the studios are busy churning out for kids to watch. About two-thirds of the way through, there's a car chase that ends with a spectacular crash. Nothing overly violent, just some special effects and a loud bang that gave everyone in the theater a nice jolt. Everyone, that is, except me. It wasn't that the crash didn't surprise me like it did everyone else. It's just that… People like us, Syd? We've been robbed of that luxury. I'm not going to lie about that. I'm not going to sit here and gloss over it because it's true. What we do – what we've done – it's changed us. Made us harder, less perceptible to all things unknown, even things as innocuous as a car crash in a movie. I'm never going to get to experience that thrill the kids get from thunder or the boom of fireworks. But I gladly give that up because everything we do ensures me that neither of them is going to have to. That's why, no matter how hard things get sometimes, I'd never leave."
With those words, Dixon's esteem soared as Sydney's fell.
He'd never before tried to verbalize some of the reasons behind his involvement with SD-6 – nor had he ever been asked to – and he was pleased to discover that it was his love for and his desire to protect his children that motivated his actions. He knew there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for them or his wife, but there were times when he
And that was when he noticed Sydney turn her head and wipe away a tear that had fallen down her cheek.
He dropped his hands onto his desk with a thump and groaned. "Syd, I'm— I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"You don't have to apologize for being a good father," she replied through gritted teeth.
"I wasn't— Jack's a good father, too. I know nothing means more to him than protecting you."
"Really? Well, that's funny because I know you'd die before allowing one of your kids to be recruited, and that's the kind of reaction I'd expect any decent father to have. But my dad, he—"
"He's told you that he didn't know, Syd. And you know what it can be like around here. You know it's not inconceivable for the right hand not to know what the left hand's doing."
"He could have found a way," she whispered as she compulsively scratched away a patch of ectoderm on her left arm. "He should have found a way."
Dixon sighed and averted his eyes to the floor as Sydney did the same. It's her birthday; we should be celebrating, he bemoaned in his head. How did we get here of all places? Six years of being partners had taught him when he should let certain subjects drop, but because he felt guilty – For what? Being a good father? Thinking he was a good father? – Dixon took a deep breath and made one last attempt to reason with his partner. "Sydney…"
"Please don't" was her quiet yet forceful response.
So he relented and waited for her to make the next move, as he knew she would after taking a few seconds to pull herself together. Perhaps she'd laugh and say she was being silly. Or she might toss a pen at his head and playfully tease him for making her envious of his children. Regardless of whatever she chose to do, he knew the atmosphere around their workspace would rapidly change from one of misery to merriment because Sydney was, if nothing else, a master at applying emotional Band-Aids.
What he'd never anticipated her to do, however, was look off into the distance and gesture towards Sloane's office with her head. "He's back?"
"What? Oh, yeah, he, um, he came in around eight. Went straight to his office and closed the door."
"Have you talked to him?"
"No. I think he's waiting to address everyone at the 10:30 meeting." Dixon watched as she nodded her head absently. The concern etched across her face felt normal and almost right to him, but there was something in her eyes that caught his attention. What is that, he asked himself. Fear? "Have you, uh…talked to him…since…?"
"No," she croaked, the word barely making it out of her throat. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to "I came late, sat in the back, left the first chance I got," she relayed with an emotionless voice, one often associated with shock. "I just didn't want to…" We will all miss this angel who walked amongst us for far too little time, but we should find comfort in knowing that God has
"Sydney?" For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, Dixon reached out for one of her hands. The frigid dampness that greeted his touch alarmed him. "Syd, are you okay?"
And then, as quickly as he knew she could alter the ambience of a situation, she broke out into a relaxed smile and giggled. "God, wow, I am suffering from some serious caffeine deprivation," she joked, still laughing. "I think I'm gonna go get some coffee before I…zone off again. Want a refill?"
"No, I'm good. Thanks."
"Okay. I'll be right back."
As she brushed past him on her way to the kitchenette, Dixon grabbed a hold of one of her wrists, which caused her to look over her shoulder in apprehension. "Are we okay, Syd?"
"Yes. Of course." Her smile deepened as she looked him directly in the eyes. "And you and Diane are coming tonight, right?"
"Definitely. We wouldn't miss it."
Her smile remained splashed across her face until she entered the deserted kitchenette and heard the revolving door swing shut behind her. Grabbing onto the edge of the countertop with both of her hands, she exhaled unevenly and allowed her shoulders as well as her lips to slump. "Get a grip, Bristow," she chastised under her breath. "You're losing it."
When she considered herself to be sufficiently steadied, she poured a cup of coffee, straightened her back, and spun around to return to her desk. But instead of looking out into an empty room, she found herself face-to-face with Sloane.
"Hello, Sydney."
She felt the paper walls of the cup she was holding begin to buckle under the pressure of her fingers as she stumbled backward into the counter and gasped. In her three-inch heel pumps, she had a height advantage over Sloane, but it seemed like he was everywhere with his grinning eyes and grinning lips and grinning forehead wrinkles. He was blocking her one path to the door and the only way for her to bypass him would be to shove him aside. But her feet had morphed into blocks of ice and she found that all she could do was stare back at him like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Sloane told her as he placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "I thought you heard me come in."
"N-no, I—" Every atom within her was screaming at Sloane to move away, to remove the weight of his hand from her body. She tried to swallow but ended up only succeeding in choking on a capsule of air. As she gulped for a breath, she managed to get out, "Wel-welcome back. How are you doing?"
"Fine," he replied, watching her actions with curiosity. "It's good to be back."
"Yes," she wheezed, still slightly winded, "distractions are good sometimes."
He nodded, his eyes never moving away from her face as he noticed the way in which she scooted herself just beyond his reach. "I never would have agreed to that leave of absence if the Alliance hadn't insisted upon it, but I suppose I should admit that the time alone did me some good. McCullough informed me that you took some time off as well while I was gone."
Sydney snapped to attention at what she perceived to be a threat. "No, I— It was just two and a half days. I had this exam for school I needed to study for and then—"
"It's all right," Sloane assured her, sounding every bit the part of a patient parent who'd had his sleep disrupted by a young child being haunted by the monsters under her bed. "I'm glad you took whatever time you needed for yourself. You know, we have yet to discuss what—"
"That's okay," she cried as a deterrent, conscious of which subject he was attempting to broach. Shut up. Please shut up, she beseeched in her head. "There's nothing to discuss. I'm fine."
He appeared unconvinced as he narrowed his eyes, but nonetheless demurred. "If you're certain."
"Yes. I'm—" She shook her head in frustration and feebly repeated, "I'm fine."
"If you'd ever like to—"
"No, that won't be necessary." Shut. Up. Please. "I do have a favor to ask of you, though. It's my birthday today and I was kind of hoping to take the afternoon off."
"Of course." If it had been possible for his smile to grow any larger, she would have sworn that it did just that as he moved towards her, his arms extended to enfold her into a hug. "Doesn't it seem like only yesterday that you came to join us here?"
Her arms remained glued to her sides as she felt him pull her towards him. She tried to wait for him to break the embrace but when the memories ("You look tired, Sydney. Is my husband working you too hard?") and the betrayals ("There is only one response to a virus and that response is containment. You put us in a compromised situation…") came flooding down upon her, she pulled away, any aroused suspicions be damned.
"I need to get back to my desk," she offered as an excuse. "This coffee's for Dixon and I don't want it to get cold."
"Certainly." He stepped aside and allowed her to pass, which she gratefully did.
"You never think things through, Sydney. That's always been your problem."
Her father's reprimand was the last thing she wanted to remember then. Not then, not as she tossed the cup of coffee – whose sides were struggling to maintain their shape after her rough treatment of them – into the first trashcan she passed after leaving the kitchenette. But his words plagued her mind and meshed together with the other aspects of her life she'd rather forget.
"You never think things through, Sydney. That's always been your problem."
"I tried to keep you from this. I want you to know that."
"Sydney, you have no perspective on who that man is! You're as lost now as I was years ago!"
"When you look back…family, friends…that's what matters. Work, your job…it won't seem that important."
"You could be anywhere, doing anything…which is the crux of the issue. Could I live like this, not knowing where or why…when?"
The voices refused to cease and she knew of only one way to get them to do so.