What You Can't Have
By Cherry Blossom
Chapter 3
[homecoming]
*Los Angeles, California
Sydney Bristow sighs and slowly lowers her car window. She sticks her hand outside and a cool morning breeze whisks its way to her. She allows herself to give in to the emotions behind the walls she has build around her, like some kind of a fortress.
She has no more tears left to weep. Instead she feels isolated, cold, and lonely. She suddenly wishes that he was here to console her, that he could wipe away her tears and hold her close and whisper to her how everything would be okay. But Sydney knows very well that life isn't a fairy tale. Especially her life. Her life, as she considered it, is as fucked up as they come.
"Damn pier," she whispers to herself, not sure that the seeing him made her feel angry or sad or disappointed or maybe even all three. Red light. Stop. Her eyes move up to the rearview mirror and she stares at her reflection. Her nose is looking a little pink, either from crying and hiccupping or just the damn cold weather. She vaguely remembers some people in the airport on their way to LA in shorts and Hawaiian shirts, in November. They had no idea what they were in for. This year's winter had come in early, complete with rain and fog.
She sniffs a couple of time and realizes that she's only two blocks away from home. "God," she says as she realizes that her face is a mess. Sydney takes a few tissues from her purse and blows her nose a couple of times, and applies some makeup to make her poofy eyes a little less obvious.
Green light.
She drives forward at a moderate pace, checking the rear view mirror to make sure he isn't tailing her. He wouldn't, she decides. He knows it would violate protocol and put both of their safety at sake.
He's had feelings for her.
She has known too. Known for a long time, and lately his emotions were becoming more and more apparent. Her first clue had been the, "Are you romantically interested in anyone?" line, the one he had used when he was prepping her for the lie detector test.
What she doesn't know is how she feels about him.
She stops the car, pulling out her car key. Home sweet home.
She walks a bit and finally gets to the door. Slowly, she takes out her keys and puts the right one in the lock and turns it.
She's in.
Sydney breathes a sigh of relief and tosses her purse onto the sofa. "Francie?" she calls, her voice high, seeming as if she were her normal self. Whatever the fuck her "normal" self was anyway.
"Francie's not home."
Sydney freezes, and looks up at a snail's pace. Time seems to have stopped. And her eyes lock with those she had seen blaze so brightly just the night before….