Love. Always.
Date: October 21, 2002
Rating: PG-for suggestion situations.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Setting: The Enemy Walks In
Summary: What would one altered action change?
Author's Notes: This is only my 2nd completed Alias FanFiction piece. And this is totally out of my normal realm, if you could describe me as having one. Please, take both into consideration. I'd love any and all feedback. Hope you all enjoy!
Their actions were rushed, too caught up in the moment to slow down. She
could feel him against, her against him, and that made everything real.
Those feelings made everything right. Real.
They'd come together, at the last moment. She should have left, gone back
and checked in with her partner. He should have found a way back to Los
Angeles.
Should. Should have.
Funny thing is, they didn't. And as the actions of
the moment had taken over their bodies, as the emotions took control, he'd lead
them away. To a small cottage. Away. Isolated.
Quiet. Remote.
It'd been hard, making their way, following his lead, while still wrapped up in
each other. They managed, after all what are spy skills for if you can't
use them?
In the cottage, they left the lights off. Kept the
candles a part of the darkness. The door barely managed to be
closed.
They didn't care. The moment had captured them and left them
wanting.
The moment.
Wanting.
All that they couldn't have. All
that was in front of them but untouchable. Desiring.
Yearning. Wishing. Hoping.
Wanting.
But want was no more. Now. Now and taking,
that was what was left. The here and now was getting all they'd
wanted. And enjoying, savoring, relishing—basking with what they were
getting. Now.
But in the tangle of clothes, sheets, emotions, limbs, murmurs, a sound rang
out.
Broken. It had broken the warmth, created by the
two, that had emanated from within, to every dark corner
and back.
She refused anything beyond him. Her world was him. He consumed everything.
But while his world was only her, the noise had penetrated his defenses, his walls. Calmly, slowly, reluctantly disentangling himself from her, he moved to the source.
Maneuvering around the erroneous clothing and previous objects of use proved to be a greater challenge than expected. However, he overcame each obstacle with varying amounts of grace and soon arrived at the wanted location. Having identified the offensive object, he placed it in hand, and once again returned to the bed.
Back. Her smile. His life. Her eyes. His heart. Her face. His everything.
"Syd, Syd, are you there?" The voice could be heard, pleading, desperate. It continued, "You are late in rendezvous. Can you hear me? You have 1 more minute, 60 seconds, before I take further action. Do you copy?"
They both heard the voice, its message. He looked to her, questioning. Her eyes held the answers.
"Dixon, it's me, Dixon. I'm here, this is Blue Bird. Do you copy?"
"I was hoping you were taking your pick of hors d'oeuvre, finding the best ones for me."
"No, sorry, I got … I got caught here for a bit longer," thinking on her feet, as they say, she went on. "The mission was a success. There've been some complications. Dixon, proceed as planned. I will use an alternate method of returning."
"Syd, I copy that. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. See you back in LA."
"Take care Syd." Her eyes immediately shot to him. His smile warmed her, calmed her.
"You too Dixon." And she promptly threw the offending object, once more into another pile of clothing.
It stayed silent. Remained silent.
But the room did not remain silent. Or still.
It hung in the air. On their skin. In their eyes. On the sheets. In their hearts.
They continued, once more, to the Now. Back to where they had been. Where they had wanted to always be.
Once again Now became tangled sheets, the mix of limbs and emotions. They continued, letting little else in beyond the other.
Should have. Silent. Wanting. Getting.
Inevitable, Destined, Meant to be—whatever you want to choose works. The fact is, the outcome becomes the same, the reasons behind the events all to the same ending. Inevitable, sure. Destined, if anyone ever really knows what's truly planned, yeah. Meant to be, in their eyes, most definitely. But above all else, one thing reins supreme.
Love.
Love. Always.