A/N: This is a slightly different style, but carries on in the same sorta
story line. If it sucks, let me know, and I won't torture you with any more
:D
Sydney and Will sat on the couch. Will had taken over her apartment when she went away, but he didn't have the heart to give any of her beloved possessions away in case.in case she came back. Everything was exactly the way she had left it, so when she got back it would feel the same. One day, forty-seven days, seven-hundred and forty-seven days, he wouldn't move a thing. When she came back, he wanted everything to be perfect for her, so that she could carry on just as they were before.
When Sydney had walked up that pathway for the first time, she felt a sudden discomfort in her stomach. What if it was different? What if none of her belongings were there? What if it was exactly the same.She didn't know what to feel. Two years is a long time, what if the same is just to different. She wanted to pick up her life just as she had left it, but somewhere, and somehow, she knew that she couldn't do that. As hard as Will tried to pretend nothing had ever happened, she felt different.
Sometimes she forgot that any time had passed, and then she would watch reruns with Will on the couch, and realise she had never seen it the first time. Small things brought back the fact that she had been gone. The flower bed in the front was different. When she asked Will about it, he said they had died during a drought. She missed it, he replaced the flowers, but although they were the same to the outside world, the one who lived in the house behind them knew the difference.
In her fight with Allison, the house had been destroyed, everything from all of the walls had fallen and broken: mirrors, pictures, cupboards, plates, shelves, all of it. When Will was released from hospital, the CIA insisted (pushed by Jack) that he stay at home for a few months and recover. He retaliated by insisting that he take only two weeks, and go back to working on the intel which would bring Sydney back to him. They refused. He tried again. Eventually they allowed him to work, but only if he worked from home, and didn't take any classified information with him. Fine, as long as I can work to bring her back.
Will Tippin worked tirelessly. Whenever he could spare the time, he shuffled those important papers. But he knew that nobody was paying attention to what he had to say, so he focused on another project; fixing Sydney's house, so that when she got back, it would be exactly the same, so that she could come back, and live in her house, and lead her old life. He scoured shopping malls from coast to coast and used the Internet, looking to replace every bit of wood, glass and steel which was broken. He even scuffed up the corners of the couch, just so it looked used. When he had finished cleaning up the house, he moved in. Only temporarily. Just to protect Sydney's stuff until she gets back, he told himself. He lived there for two years, long after she had been presumed dead. He refused to believe that, and stayed anyway.
It looked the same to her, and she knew that Will had tried hard to pull back the pieces for her during her absence. It looked the same, but it [I]felt[/I] different. These looked like hers, and felt like hers, but they just weren't hers. He knew it wasn't the same, and he could see that Sydney looked awkward in her own house, but he didn't know how to help her. For once, Will didn't have an idea on how to help Sydney. When Danny had been killed, he had tried to find out who did it, because it killed him inside to see her like that. Even though it may have been a stupid thing to do, it had been something. Will had to feel he was always busy, always working to do something. Almost everything he did, he did for Sydney, and now he was powerless to do what he had always done before.
He thought about selling the house, but that would be even worse. It would uproot her, and the place had already been cleared and protected by security section, just like all of their agents houses. She had to live there. He felt hopeless, he loved her so much and he could do nothing in his power to help her. It tore him apart inside, to see her like this. She couldn't feel safe in her own house. She wanted Will to stay with her and keep her safe. She didn't have to ask him, because he knew her so well, and he stuck around, just to protect her.
Not to protect her from anyone else, but to protect her from herself. So she didn't have to think about what may have happened. About the scar she had on her stomach. About how Vaughn had been engaged and married before she got back. These were the sort of thoughts which made her uncomfortable. Why was Vaughn married? Although she couldn't understand it, she loved him, and all she wanted in the world was for him to be happy. When he had visited her in Hong Kong, she could feel him. He felt different than when she had held him last.
He was holding out on her. That hug wasn't as warm or as comforting as it should have been. It was cold, rigid. Sydney felt confused at first. She was missing for two years. The man she loved seemed to have given up on her.
Will told her that it wasn't only he who loved her. He had told her many times that he loved her. When he had first found out the truth about Sydney and SD-6, he was able to express how much. His love for Sydney was overpowering, but not domineering. It was a deep love, not lust. It was a special love, it was the love of a friend. Such true, deep and unrestricted love can only come from a friend, and Sydney and Will's friendship is the stuff of legends.
Sydney and Will sat on the couch. Will had taken over her apartment when she went away, but he didn't have the heart to give any of her beloved possessions away in case.in case she came back. Everything was exactly the way she had left it, so when she got back it would feel the same. One day, forty-seven days, seven-hundred and forty-seven days, he wouldn't move a thing. When she came back, he wanted everything to be perfect for her, so that she could carry on just as they were before.
When Sydney had walked up that pathway for the first time, she felt a sudden discomfort in her stomach. What if it was different? What if none of her belongings were there? What if it was exactly the same.She didn't know what to feel. Two years is a long time, what if the same is just to different. She wanted to pick up her life just as she had left it, but somewhere, and somehow, she knew that she couldn't do that. As hard as Will tried to pretend nothing had ever happened, she felt different.
Sometimes she forgot that any time had passed, and then she would watch reruns with Will on the couch, and realise she had never seen it the first time. Small things brought back the fact that she had been gone. The flower bed in the front was different. When she asked Will about it, he said they had died during a drought. She missed it, he replaced the flowers, but although they were the same to the outside world, the one who lived in the house behind them knew the difference.
In her fight with Allison, the house had been destroyed, everything from all of the walls had fallen and broken: mirrors, pictures, cupboards, plates, shelves, all of it. When Will was released from hospital, the CIA insisted (pushed by Jack) that he stay at home for a few months and recover. He retaliated by insisting that he take only two weeks, and go back to working on the intel which would bring Sydney back to him. They refused. He tried again. Eventually they allowed him to work, but only if he worked from home, and didn't take any classified information with him. Fine, as long as I can work to bring her back.
Will Tippin worked tirelessly. Whenever he could spare the time, he shuffled those important papers. But he knew that nobody was paying attention to what he had to say, so he focused on another project; fixing Sydney's house, so that when she got back, it would be exactly the same, so that she could come back, and live in her house, and lead her old life. He scoured shopping malls from coast to coast and used the Internet, looking to replace every bit of wood, glass and steel which was broken. He even scuffed up the corners of the couch, just so it looked used. When he had finished cleaning up the house, he moved in. Only temporarily. Just to protect Sydney's stuff until she gets back, he told himself. He lived there for two years, long after she had been presumed dead. He refused to believe that, and stayed anyway.
It looked the same to her, and she knew that Will had tried hard to pull back the pieces for her during her absence. It looked the same, but it [I]felt[/I] different. These looked like hers, and felt like hers, but they just weren't hers. He knew it wasn't the same, and he could see that Sydney looked awkward in her own house, but he didn't know how to help her. For once, Will didn't have an idea on how to help Sydney. When Danny had been killed, he had tried to find out who did it, because it killed him inside to see her like that. Even though it may have been a stupid thing to do, it had been something. Will had to feel he was always busy, always working to do something. Almost everything he did, he did for Sydney, and now he was powerless to do what he had always done before.
He thought about selling the house, but that would be even worse. It would uproot her, and the place had already been cleared and protected by security section, just like all of their agents houses. She had to live there. He felt hopeless, he loved her so much and he could do nothing in his power to help her. It tore him apart inside, to see her like this. She couldn't feel safe in her own house. She wanted Will to stay with her and keep her safe. She didn't have to ask him, because he knew her so well, and he stuck around, just to protect her.
Not to protect her from anyone else, but to protect her from herself. So she didn't have to think about what may have happened. About the scar she had on her stomach. About how Vaughn had been engaged and married before she got back. These were the sort of thoughts which made her uncomfortable. Why was Vaughn married? Although she couldn't understand it, she loved him, and all she wanted in the world was for him to be happy. When he had visited her in Hong Kong, she could feel him. He felt different than when she had held him last.
He was holding out on her. That hug wasn't as warm or as comforting as it should have been. It was cold, rigid. Sydney felt confused at first. She was missing for two years. The man she loved seemed to have given up on her.
Will told her that it wasn't only he who loved her. He had told her many times that he loved her. When he had first found out the truth about Sydney and SD-6, he was able to express how much. His love for Sydney was overpowering, but not domineering. It was a deep love, not lust. It was a special love, it was the love of a friend. Such true, deep and unrestricted love can only come from a friend, and Sydney and Will's friendship is the stuff of legends.
