2 Years Later
Syd no longer slept with a gun under her pillow.
That was definitely a perk that came with the destruction of the Alliance. That and being bumped down to 'semi-active status.' In other words, she had free time.
And now she had a life to go along with it. That was probably the biggest perk of all-- No secrets.
Syd smiled and looked up into the full-length mirror at Francie, helping her with her hair.
The day after the Alliance was destroyed, Syd had told Francie everything. Will -God bless him- had been there, helping to explain things to Francie. Even after Syd had explained her reasons for keeping things secret, it still took Francie a good month to fully accept it. Now, it seemed impossible that Syd could have lied to Francie for all those years.
Francie noticed Syd watching her in the mirror and smiled.
"Syd, you look beautiful." Neither of them could stop smiling.
"Thanks Francie, you look great too."
Francie leaned in conspiratorially.
"I'll tell you one thing, Syd . . . . You are WAY better at picking out bridesmaid's dresses than Will's ex-wife was." Syd doubled over laughing, recalling the drunk, quickie-fling marriage that Will had had with a Vegas showgirl for all of two months, and the teal-lace dresses that had gone with it. What one trip to Vegas and a bottle of Tequila will do to you . . . Syd had become addicted to moments like these. After SD-6, Syd's life had become more like an episode of Friends than an episode of Mission Impossible. One comical moment after another.
"I never thought Francie, that after Danny my life could be like this . . ." she said, saying a silent prayer to Danny. She knew that he was here today, smiling down on her. She could still here him singing, "Build me up Buttercup."
"Oh, Syd, he would have been so proud at what you've accomplished." Francie said, hugging her.
"He is," Syd said, smiling again, "He is."
Francie pulled back and took one last look at her friend.
"It's time Syd."
"I'm ready."
____________________________________
Kissing her on the cheek, Jack Bristow took his daughter's arm and escorted her across the soft Mediterranean sea sand towards the Makeshift Driftwood altar. Syd could feel the warm grains of sand sift in between the toes of her bare feet. The soft flowing silk of her dress fluttered in the wind. No high heels. No skintight dresses. No makeup. Simple and perfect.
Along with Francie, Syd's mother stood smiling at one side of the altar, ready to give the bride away. She had been able to come on a special request from Kendall-- and with the aid of fifty or so armed guards discreetly covering the perimeter.
On the groom's side, Will and Weiss stood, staring at the beautiful bride, grinning. Syd laughed a second at their faces, blushing.
And there was Vaughn. She still couldn't manage to call him "Michael". She couldn't help but notice that he looked rather dashing in his white dress shirt and khakis. He hadn't wanted to wear a tux, and Syd had completely agreed with him. She'd seen him in enough suits already.
A blur of required phrases said by the priest-Syd wasn't really listening, just looking at Vaughn. The words weren't the part that mattered anyways. And then it was time, and he bent down to kiss her in that soft and tender way he always did, backlit by the sun setting on the Mediterranean Sea.
The kiss went on much longer than needed. Nobody cared, least of all Syd and Vaughn.
The rest of the evening swirled into one culmination of laughs, toasts, kisses, and dancing. A lot of kisses.
Finally, everyone dissipated, off to planes or hotel rooms. Hand in hand, Vaughn and Sydney walked a mile to their newly-purchased whitewall bungalow, and closed the door, still kissing on their way in.
______________________________
Quizzical, the poetry bookshop and café, opened 3 months after Sydney was married. It was a tiny little stucco shop crammed in between a family owned restaurant and a small-business beauty parlor. With her own hands, she built a makeshift stage near the back with some tables and chairs for performances, and painted the walls black with red stripes. Any wall not covered by a bookshelf held a mirror or modern art. It contained an entire shelf dedicated to Pablo Neruda. It was funky and cluttered, just the way Syd had pictured it. Best of all, it was her first endeavor that had absolutely nothing to do with the spy world.
Syd had carefully stowed her first-edition copy of Pablo Neruda poetry underneath the counter, book marked with a frequently-handled piece of paper containing a poem, written long ago.
It had scarcely bothered her that it was 5 hours in to her first day with an open shop and nobody had come in yet. She had enough steady income to keep it open, even if nobody ever set foot in it. Instead she was content reading the vast works that she had stored on the shelves, sipping rich Italian coffee.
She was so immersed in her book in fact, that she didn't even hear when the bell atop the door did finally ring that day.
Her first customer coughed to acknowledge his presence.
"This shop of yours is a little hard to track down, but at least I managed to keep my promise."
Sydney slowly took her eyes off her book and straightened. A tingling sensation began at the base of her spine upon hearing a voice that she hadn't recognized in years. Slowly turning in her chair, she saw him, confirming her instincts. It was him. Syd grinned a mile wide, looking him up and down to see what had changed. His hair was a tad darker, but that was all.
"Hello Sir, how can I help you?" Syd asked, playing cool.
"The name is Brian. Actually, I was just looking for someone I used to know. Obviously, I have the wrong store then." He feigned walking out the door, but turned around again when he heard Sydney's laughter.
"I thought you were dead." she said nonchalantly, recreating the contrary banter that they had both mastered so well in their conversations. "How did you manage?"
"I have my ways." Sark said, using the usual phrase. It was like no time had passed at all. Then he smiled a genuine smile, laughing at his own joke. Syd could tell that his time away from the business had changed him a bit, for the better. He didn't have problems with his humanity anymore. Syd got up and hugged him.
"That's my thanks for doing what you did with the Alliance. It's completely changed my life for the better."
"It's nice to know I have your appreciation, but I didn't do it for you."
"I know."
Syd pulled out from the hug and looked at him again. He was definitely more relaxed. Sark began leaning in closer to her face, pulling her close again, but Syd backed up.
"I can't, Sark."
"I'm sorry, of course . . . . ." he said, looking down at her ring finger. A few awkward seconds passed before he found another means of mocking her.
"MRS. Bristow . . . ." Syd laughed again and smacked him.
"I can't do that Sark, but would you settle for a cappuccino and a good friendship?"
"With extra foam?"
"Of course."
"Deal."
Syd laughed and went to go make two cappuccinos, while Sark began browsing through the Poe section. Some things never change.
Sitting down at one of the many empty tables, Syd slid his coffee over to him.
"And by the way," he said, "It's Brian. Not Sark."
"Whatever you say, Brian."
Syd no longer slept with a gun under her pillow.
That was definitely a perk that came with the destruction of the Alliance. That and being bumped down to 'semi-active status.' In other words, she had free time.
And now she had a life to go along with it. That was probably the biggest perk of all-- No secrets.
Syd smiled and looked up into the full-length mirror at Francie, helping her with her hair.
The day after the Alliance was destroyed, Syd had told Francie everything. Will -God bless him- had been there, helping to explain things to Francie. Even after Syd had explained her reasons for keeping things secret, it still took Francie a good month to fully accept it. Now, it seemed impossible that Syd could have lied to Francie for all those years.
Francie noticed Syd watching her in the mirror and smiled.
"Syd, you look beautiful." Neither of them could stop smiling.
"Thanks Francie, you look great too."
Francie leaned in conspiratorially.
"I'll tell you one thing, Syd . . . . You are WAY better at picking out bridesmaid's dresses than Will's ex-wife was." Syd doubled over laughing, recalling the drunk, quickie-fling marriage that Will had had with a Vegas showgirl for all of two months, and the teal-lace dresses that had gone with it. What one trip to Vegas and a bottle of Tequila will do to you . . . Syd had become addicted to moments like these. After SD-6, Syd's life had become more like an episode of Friends than an episode of Mission Impossible. One comical moment after another.
"I never thought Francie, that after Danny my life could be like this . . ." she said, saying a silent prayer to Danny. She knew that he was here today, smiling down on her. She could still here him singing, "Build me up Buttercup."
"Oh, Syd, he would have been so proud at what you've accomplished." Francie said, hugging her.
"He is," Syd said, smiling again, "He is."
Francie pulled back and took one last look at her friend.
"It's time Syd."
"I'm ready."
____________________________________
Kissing her on the cheek, Jack Bristow took his daughter's arm and escorted her across the soft Mediterranean sea sand towards the Makeshift Driftwood altar. Syd could feel the warm grains of sand sift in between the toes of her bare feet. The soft flowing silk of her dress fluttered in the wind. No high heels. No skintight dresses. No makeup. Simple and perfect.
Along with Francie, Syd's mother stood smiling at one side of the altar, ready to give the bride away. She had been able to come on a special request from Kendall-- and with the aid of fifty or so armed guards discreetly covering the perimeter.
On the groom's side, Will and Weiss stood, staring at the beautiful bride, grinning. Syd laughed a second at their faces, blushing.
And there was Vaughn. She still couldn't manage to call him "Michael". She couldn't help but notice that he looked rather dashing in his white dress shirt and khakis. He hadn't wanted to wear a tux, and Syd had completely agreed with him. She'd seen him in enough suits already.
A blur of required phrases said by the priest-Syd wasn't really listening, just looking at Vaughn. The words weren't the part that mattered anyways. And then it was time, and he bent down to kiss her in that soft and tender way he always did, backlit by the sun setting on the Mediterranean Sea.
The kiss went on much longer than needed. Nobody cared, least of all Syd and Vaughn.
The rest of the evening swirled into one culmination of laughs, toasts, kisses, and dancing. A lot of kisses.
Finally, everyone dissipated, off to planes or hotel rooms. Hand in hand, Vaughn and Sydney walked a mile to their newly-purchased whitewall bungalow, and closed the door, still kissing on their way in.
______________________________
Quizzical, the poetry bookshop and café, opened 3 months after Sydney was married. It was a tiny little stucco shop crammed in between a family owned restaurant and a small-business beauty parlor. With her own hands, she built a makeshift stage near the back with some tables and chairs for performances, and painted the walls black with red stripes. Any wall not covered by a bookshelf held a mirror or modern art. It contained an entire shelf dedicated to Pablo Neruda. It was funky and cluttered, just the way Syd had pictured it. Best of all, it was her first endeavor that had absolutely nothing to do with the spy world.
Syd had carefully stowed her first-edition copy of Pablo Neruda poetry underneath the counter, book marked with a frequently-handled piece of paper containing a poem, written long ago.
It had scarcely bothered her that it was 5 hours in to her first day with an open shop and nobody had come in yet. She had enough steady income to keep it open, even if nobody ever set foot in it. Instead she was content reading the vast works that she had stored on the shelves, sipping rich Italian coffee.
She was so immersed in her book in fact, that she didn't even hear when the bell atop the door did finally ring that day.
Her first customer coughed to acknowledge his presence.
"This shop of yours is a little hard to track down, but at least I managed to keep my promise."
Sydney slowly took her eyes off her book and straightened. A tingling sensation began at the base of her spine upon hearing a voice that she hadn't recognized in years. Slowly turning in her chair, she saw him, confirming her instincts. It was him. Syd grinned a mile wide, looking him up and down to see what had changed. His hair was a tad darker, but that was all.
"Hello Sir, how can I help you?" Syd asked, playing cool.
"The name is Brian. Actually, I was just looking for someone I used to know. Obviously, I have the wrong store then." He feigned walking out the door, but turned around again when he heard Sydney's laughter.
"I thought you were dead." she said nonchalantly, recreating the contrary banter that they had both mastered so well in their conversations. "How did you manage?"
"I have my ways." Sark said, using the usual phrase. It was like no time had passed at all. Then he smiled a genuine smile, laughing at his own joke. Syd could tell that his time away from the business had changed him a bit, for the better. He didn't have problems with his humanity anymore. Syd got up and hugged him.
"That's my thanks for doing what you did with the Alliance. It's completely changed my life for the better."
"It's nice to know I have your appreciation, but I didn't do it for you."
"I know."
Syd pulled out from the hug and looked at him again. He was definitely more relaxed. Sark began leaning in closer to her face, pulling her close again, but Syd backed up.
"I can't, Sark."
"I'm sorry, of course . . . . ." he said, looking down at her ring finger. A few awkward seconds passed before he found another means of mocking her.
"MRS. Bristow . . . ." Syd laughed again and smacked him.
"I can't do that Sark, but would you settle for a cappuccino and a good friendship?"
"With extra foam?"
"Of course."
"Deal."
Syd laughed and went to go make two cappuccinos, while Sark began browsing through the Poe section. Some things never change.
Sitting down at one of the many empty tables, Syd slid his coffee over to him.
"And by the way," he said, "It's Brian. Not Sark."
"Whatever you say, Brian."