Authors note: I know, I haven't updated in, forever practically. But hell, might as well get it out of the way. This one is pretty and HTML spiffified. Nice italics and all. Enjoy! ~Allie

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Chapter 4:

iTime rolls on...

And dreams they die...

And I've thrown out the pictures I had of you and I...

And if you're ever wondering if love can be true...

Well, think of me and remember darling like I, like I do.../i

b

"Favorite season."

"Hmm...fall."

"Fall?"

"Yeah. It's a time of change, everything gets colder, and prettier. Plus I've been told I'm a fall person."

"Like color wise?"

"Yeah, color wise. Your season?"

"Spring. Everything starts over again, its another time of change, but it seems more optimistic, you know? That, and I've been told I'm a spring person."

"You have?"

"No...not really. I've actually been told I'm more winter"/b

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Each day seems to play out in slow motion. Everything seems so slow now. Life seemed to be much more fast paced, much more exciting when you were around. I don't know if thats either critical of you or a compliment. I would take it as a compliment though, since for me, before you came, life was in slow motion. Sure, I had a nice job, my own apartment, and was doing something for the good of my country, but I didn't have anything that made it really worthwhile. I enjoyed being around Alice, but she was, easily put, dull. My mother...I love my mother. She was the one thing that, before you came, really kept me going.

But now, it seems everday is just repeating itself. I feel like my life is a scratched record. It seems to be stuck in the same part, replaying it over, and over, and over. I've honestly tried to go on, tried to take off the record, move it, help it pass over the scratched section. I've gotten rid of past pictures, anything in my house that reminds me of you is gone. The only thing I can't seem to get rid of are the memories from inside me.

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The blood was everwhere. Wherever he looked, he could see red. The whole room seemed to be spinning, and the red was engulfing him. He was dying. She was dying. And all he wanted was to leave. To leave the pain, the fire that was coming from inside him, from the petrified look on her face, and from this world that was filled with red.

"Hold on. Please! You have to hold on..." Her voice was low, the plead came out and barely a whisper, but it was loud enough to reach him. He lay on the ground, his body giving up on him. Slowly life seemed to flow out from him.

'So this is how it will end...me, lying on a floor, in my own blood, unable to help the one person who I love.' His thoughts began to grow fuzzy, and the deep cuts and burns began to go numb. He could no longer feel the pain from earlier, and everything began to slowly fade out.

"Michael! Stay awake! Please stay awake! They're going to be here! Any minute! Any minute! Stay awake!" Her plead was louder this time. The voice was frantic.

Sydney Bristow lay on a cold, metal table. The room was musty, small, and almost pitch black. Her ankles were strapped tightly to the table, along with her wrists. She could tell that yes, one of her wrists was definitly broken, and during their interrogation, a rib or two were broken as well. But what happened to her was nothing compared to what the KGB agents had done to Michael Vaughn.

His blood seemed to be everywhere. They had no only pricked at him, burnt him, and ripped almost all of his fingernails, but mentally tortured him. By injecting him with hallucinagents, to hypnosis, where she was sure they had it so that he saw her death, his mothers, and any other close relatives replayed over and over in his mind.

But he couldn't leave like this.

"Vaughn! Stay with me! Please...please," she began to sob uncontrollably, "I...I love you...don't leave me, not yet, not just yet."

Michael Vaughn subconciously heard these pleas and he felt the pain from inside him.

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The pain that was worth it....I remember that conversation we shared that night in bed. About the arrow, love, about you, me, seasons, and children. I thought back to that time when your voice brought me back. iThe pain was worth it./i I slowly get out of my bed, looking around my room. You wouldn't even be able to tell that you spent weeks at a time here. There are no pictures, there isn't a box hidden in my closet of your belongings, and your name is off all of my address books. The only thing left of you are my memories. Memories of that last night we spent together before I told you what I had done. What my past assignment was, and how I betrayed you so.

Trust...it all came down to that five letter word. You placed so much trust in me, Syd. How could you, when all you life, you were trained to lie? All your life you were lied to...and so easily you seemed to trust me.

Yes, I did trust you. iYou have no idea how much I trusted you./i It seemed to take a while for me to put almost all my trust in you, since I have been taught to lie for the majority of my life. I was taught to keep secrets from everyone, and trust no one.

When I met you though, everything seemed to change. The longer we knew each other, the more I could rely on you. The more we could rely on each other.

Trust is such a fragile thing, though Syd. And I was the one who screwd it up. You trusted me, and I, I was the one who broke it. So why now, after what I have done to you, why would you want to see me now? Who the hell do you think you are, inviting me to your wedding!? Who the hell are you to bring up a part of my life that I was finally recovoring from? Who the hell are you to make me think back to some of my most painful memories?! You,Sydney Bristow...that's who the hell you are. The one who fucking screwed up my life.

The woman whom I loved so much, but who I took so much away from, and who in return took so much away from me.