Disclaimer- Still no Vaughn! I'm still waiting! So talk to JJ until then!
Author's Note- Please please please a million times, review! I mean, seriously. Review. It's like the Aretha Franklin song 'RESPECT' only it's the Elyse song 'REVIEW'
Chapter Eight Coffee
Sydney walked into the SD-6 headquarters in a daze. There would be no meeting with Vaughn ever again. She walked into the conference room and sat down across from Dixon. She noticed that every chair had been filled with agents and others crowded in the back.
"For those of you who don't know, Emily Sloane passed away two nights ago in her sleep. Due to this fact Sloane has taken a two month leave. During that time there will be no new missions, unless they are completely urgent," Jack Bristow said walking into the room and taking the head seat.
"But I thought Emily was getting better," Sydney stated, upset. She had an idea of what had happened. Sloane had murdered his own wife.
"People can take a turn for the worse," Dixon said through clenched teeth. He didn't trust her.
"This week is yours. The funeral will be on Thursday. All of you are invited to attend. That is all," Jack said before departing.
"Sydney, let's have lunch. I feel we need to talk," whispered Dixon.
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The small coffee and cafe Sydney and Dixon stopped at was deserted, except for the waitress.
"Who do you work for?" Dixon demanded after they had placed their orders.
"I can't tell you. All I can say is that I am not working against our country."
"Why can't you tell me?"
"If I tell you, you and your family's lives will be in danger, as well as mine."
"Tell me or I will..." Dixon fell silent.
A man had walked up to the counter to place his order. "Uhhh... just a bagel and a decaf please."
His order was soon met and he turned to leave. Sydney choked on her salad. The man looked exactly like Vaughn.
"Syd, are you all right," asked Dixon concerned.
"Yeah, just went down the wrong tube." Returning to her salad she made a mental note that there were other men just as good-looking as Vaughn in the world. Too bad they weren't him. Dead men didn't come back to life.
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Vaughn knew Sydney had spotted him, but he made no acknowledgement. How could they have picked the same place to grab lunch in all of LA? But he kept his promise to Jack. He left the building and went back to the CIA.
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Two weeks, three days, four hours, and forty-seven minutes after Vaughn died, Sydney lay on her bed sobbing over him. She had taken a one month leave of absence from SD-6, claiming to need time to get over Emily.
What a lie. The time was used to think of Vaughn. No longer were her dreams happy. She used to dream of Vaughn. Of spending sleepless nights with him, of waking to his jade eyes. No longer was she running after a miniature Vaughn. Now she dreamt of fire, a fire that overtook the world and killed all. She dreamt of her own death.
Plotted it out. Guns, knives, poison. Jack, Sloane, the random citizen. She dreamt of Jack pulling the trigger, Sloane shoving a dagger in her heart, her doctor poisoning her. Anyone could do it. Even herself. She was no longer afraid. Empty. A life without love wasn't just terrible, it was means of suicide.
Death. It was a release she could no longer wait for. She grabbed a knife and held it to her wrists. She wanted to linger, to feel the pain before she died. Feel how Vaughn felt as the water rushed up on her. She was coming for Vaughn.
Author's Note- Please please please a million times, review! I mean, seriously. Review. It's like the Aretha Franklin song 'RESPECT' only it's the Elyse song 'REVIEW'
Chapter Eight Coffee
Sydney walked into the SD-6 headquarters in a daze. There would be no meeting with Vaughn ever again. She walked into the conference room and sat down across from Dixon. She noticed that every chair had been filled with agents and others crowded in the back.
"For those of you who don't know, Emily Sloane passed away two nights ago in her sleep. Due to this fact Sloane has taken a two month leave. During that time there will be no new missions, unless they are completely urgent," Jack Bristow said walking into the room and taking the head seat.
"But I thought Emily was getting better," Sydney stated, upset. She had an idea of what had happened. Sloane had murdered his own wife.
"People can take a turn for the worse," Dixon said through clenched teeth. He didn't trust her.
"This week is yours. The funeral will be on Thursday. All of you are invited to attend. That is all," Jack said before departing.
"Sydney, let's have lunch. I feel we need to talk," whispered Dixon.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The small coffee and cafe Sydney and Dixon stopped at was deserted, except for the waitress.
"Who do you work for?" Dixon demanded after they had placed their orders.
"I can't tell you. All I can say is that I am not working against our country."
"Why can't you tell me?"
"If I tell you, you and your family's lives will be in danger, as well as mine."
"Tell me or I will..." Dixon fell silent.
A man had walked up to the counter to place his order. "Uhhh... just a bagel and a decaf please."
His order was soon met and he turned to leave. Sydney choked on her salad. The man looked exactly like Vaughn.
"Syd, are you all right," asked Dixon concerned.
"Yeah, just went down the wrong tube." Returning to her salad she made a mental note that there were other men just as good-looking as Vaughn in the world. Too bad they weren't him. Dead men didn't come back to life.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Vaughn knew Sydney had spotted him, but he made no acknowledgement. How could they have picked the same place to grab lunch in all of LA? But he kept his promise to Jack. He left the building and went back to the CIA.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Two weeks, three days, four hours, and forty-seven minutes after Vaughn died, Sydney lay on her bed sobbing over him. She had taken a one month leave of absence from SD-6, claiming to need time to get over Emily.
What a lie. The time was used to think of Vaughn. No longer were her dreams happy. She used to dream of Vaughn. Of spending sleepless nights with him, of waking to his jade eyes. No longer was she running after a miniature Vaughn. Now she dreamt of fire, a fire that overtook the world and killed all. She dreamt of her own death.
Plotted it out. Guns, knives, poison. Jack, Sloane, the random citizen. She dreamt of Jack pulling the trigger, Sloane shoving a dagger in her heart, her doctor poisoning her. Anyone could do it. Even herself. She was no longer afraid. Empty. A life without love wasn't just terrible, it was means of suicide.
Death. It was a release she could no longer wait for. She grabbed a knife and held it to her wrists. She wanted to linger, to feel the pain before she died. Feel how Vaughn felt as the water rushed up on her. She was coming for Vaughn.