A Dark New World
By ~ lanabana/ Agent Alana
~ Okay, this is going to be a bit dark, ergo the title, this is my depressed & bitter continuation of the season finale, think Evanescence "My Immortal" and have fun, and please REVIEW ~
~ Chapter One ~ DEAD ~
Shattered glass, shattered lives, darkness takes over.
Darkness surrounds her; the only source of light is a red neon sign flashing - black and red - Will in tub - black and red - Francie dead - black and red.
Oh the irony of it all, black and red, blindness and blood, death and destruction - the story of her life.
Her body screams in pain as she struggles to pull herself up off the wet concrete bed. She shivers in the cold, despite the ugly heavy sweater appears to be wearing, a true tragedy.
Wandering through the chaos of busy people living their busy lives, she realizes that the only un-normal thing about the scene is that it seems to be on the other side of the world. Then again this IS normal, for her it's just "another day in the life of Sydney Bristow."
So she goes through the motions, she knows them by heart: look for landmarks, call CIA, report to safe house, check out any strange scars on one's person.
The unexpected has become expected, so "why panic?" she concludes; sure it's strange, but she was starting to miss the element of surprise that a halfway normal life was slowly eliminating from her existence.
That's what she tells herself in hopes of dismissing this increasing sinking feeling, in the pit of her stomach, that's saying something has gone terribly wrong.
As the hours linger on, she waits, and the tick of the clock threatens to drive her insane, tick-tock - where's Vaughn? - Tick-tock - where's dad? - Tick-tock - "Flashdance"? - Tick-tock.
She tries to focus, to remember, but her brain is mush, she just knows things, but fails to recall why.
Frustrated she throws back the covers, turns on the lamp, and examines the scar once more, then is gratefully distracted by the opening of her door.
Relief is soon replaced with the realization that the sinking feeling she had worked so hard to ignore has returned full force and is throwing her headfirst into the harsh reality that she has "been missing for almost two years"!
Falling - missing - falling - two years - falling - wedding ring - falling.
She falls to the floor under the weight of the gold around his forth finger. Slowly she wills herself to look up at the stranger sitting in front of her, he's saying something but it's mumbled and jumbled, and the silence is blaring, like an obnoxiously loud bass system, in her ears and she covers them protectively.
She tries to stand up but her legs feel like Jell-O and the floor begins to sway back and forth, she feels a hand reach out to help steady her, but it feels like the hand of death and its owner the villain of her own personal horror movie.
Not a villain everyone obviously and easily hates, but the psychotically good-looking kind. The ones where you would like him, even love him, if under any other circumstance, if he wasn't the one twisting the knife into your heart.
She violently reacts, fearful for her life, without thought she throws him over the bed and across the room, into the wall. She watches in horror as her Guardian Angel falls from grace.
Growing nauseous she quickly stumbles into the bathroom and franticly slams the door shut, locking it before sliding onto the nasty floor and vomiting up blood and water into the hole in the ground.
Hell becomes a CIA safehouse bathroom in Hong Kong. All around her she hears the cries of the confused and damned, soon her sobs join the masses.
Missing, she knows what that really means, "missing" translation "dead". Sydney Bristow is dead, and life has gone on, apparently the world DIDN'T revolve around her.
The only problem is that she ISN'T dead, although at this moment she isn't entirely convinced she is still alive or awake, the pain in her heart says it is still beating.
Thump, thump.
Thump, bang.
Bang, bang.
He's banging on the door now, yelling, screaming her name, demanding entrance; those good looking villains, so persistent, it doesn't make any sense, don't they know they could have anyone they want if they would just ask nicely, and apparently he does, but its no longer her.
Her blood runs cold, and her soul goes numb. Pulling herself up off the floor she takes the bar of soap from the sink and writes a four-letter word on the mirror - DEAD.
With a final look at the ghost in the mirror, she opens the window and sets out to find the killers of Sydney Bristow, may she rest in peace.
In the ally below she listens to the commotion through the open window above her - sound of a broken door, screams of a broken man, shattering of a broken mirror.
Shattered glass, shattered lives, darkness takes over.
By ~ lanabana/ Agent Alana
~ Okay, this is going to be a bit dark, ergo the title, this is my depressed & bitter continuation of the season finale, think Evanescence "My Immortal" and have fun, and please REVIEW ~
~ Chapter One ~ DEAD ~
Shattered glass, shattered lives, darkness takes over.
Darkness surrounds her; the only source of light is a red neon sign flashing - black and red - Will in tub - black and red - Francie dead - black and red.
Oh the irony of it all, black and red, blindness and blood, death and destruction - the story of her life.
Her body screams in pain as she struggles to pull herself up off the wet concrete bed. She shivers in the cold, despite the ugly heavy sweater appears to be wearing, a true tragedy.
Wandering through the chaos of busy people living their busy lives, she realizes that the only un-normal thing about the scene is that it seems to be on the other side of the world. Then again this IS normal, for her it's just "another day in the life of Sydney Bristow."
So she goes through the motions, she knows them by heart: look for landmarks, call CIA, report to safe house, check out any strange scars on one's person.
The unexpected has become expected, so "why panic?" she concludes; sure it's strange, but she was starting to miss the element of surprise that a halfway normal life was slowly eliminating from her existence.
That's what she tells herself in hopes of dismissing this increasing sinking feeling, in the pit of her stomach, that's saying something has gone terribly wrong.
As the hours linger on, she waits, and the tick of the clock threatens to drive her insane, tick-tock - where's Vaughn? - Tick-tock - where's dad? - Tick-tock - "Flashdance"? - Tick-tock.
She tries to focus, to remember, but her brain is mush, she just knows things, but fails to recall why.
Frustrated she throws back the covers, turns on the lamp, and examines the scar once more, then is gratefully distracted by the opening of her door.
Relief is soon replaced with the realization that the sinking feeling she had worked so hard to ignore has returned full force and is throwing her headfirst into the harsh reality that she has "been missing for almost two years"!
Falling - missing - falling - two years - falling - wedding ring - falling.
She falls to the floor under the weight of the gold around his forth finger. Slowly she wills herself to look up at the stranger sitting in front of her, he's saying something but it's mumbled and jumbled, and the silence is blaring, like an obnoxiously loud bass system, in her ears and she covers them protectively.
She tries to stand up but her legs feel like Jell-O and the floor begins to sway back and forth, she feels a hand reach out to help steady her, but it feels like the hand of death and its owner the villain of her own personal horror movie.
Not a villain everyone obviously and easily hates, but the psychotically good-looking kind. The ones where you would like him, even love him, if under any other circumstance, if he wasn't the one twisting the knife into your heart.
She violently reacts, fearful for her life, without thought she throws him over the bed and across the room, into the wall. She watches in horror as her Guardian Angel falls from grace.
Growing nauseous she quickly stumbles into the bathroom and franticly slams the door shut, locking it before sliding onto the nasty floor and vomiting up blood and water into the hole in the ground.
Hell becomes a CIA safehouse bathroom in Hong Kong. All around her she hears the cries of the confused and damned, soon her sobs join the masses.
Missing, she knows what that really means, "missing" translation "dead". Sydney Bristow is dead, and life has gone on, apparently the world DIDN'T revolve around her.
The only problem is that she ISN'T dead, although at this moment she isn't entirely convinced she is still alive or awake, the pain in her heart says it is still beating.
Thump, thump.
Thump, bang.
Bang, bang.
He's banging on the door now, yelling, screaming her name, demanding entrance; those good looking villains, so persistent, it doesn't make any sense, don't they know they could have anyone they want if they would just ask nicely, and apparently he does, but its no longer her.
Her blood runs cold, and her soul goes numb. Pulling herself up off the floor she takes the bar of soap from the sink and writes a four-letter word on the mirror - DEAD.
With a final look at the ghost in the mirror, she opens the window and sets out to find the killers of Sydney Bristow, may she rest in peace.
In the ally below she listens to the commotion through the open window above her - sound of a broken door, screams of a broken man, shattering of a broken mirror.
Shattered glass, shattered lives, darkness takes over.