Title: Critical Measures
Author: PKay
Summery: Even the dead cannot speak the truth without knowing it first; Sydney's life after her sudden reappearance.
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Disclaimers: Every new possession loads us with a new weariness.
John Ruskin
So in other words, Alias isn't mine. (If you don't get it, think vewy, vewy hard and you just might figure it out, but if you don't you can always ask me!)
Chapter 1: The Counting
She had been there so long she didn't care for the counting any longer. In the beginning she had counted the days, the minutes, the seconds. But nothing ever came of it.
She then started counting how many times he had kissed her, how many times he had held her hand, how many times he had helped her, how he had rescued her. He had rescued her from so many things. So she counted those. He had rescued her from Sark, from Sloane, from the useless guards that made her job harder than it already was, from her father, from Kendall, and from herself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Tell me again Agent Bristow, how did you get this?"
"I don't know, I don't remember, I've told you this before."
"Well surely you remember receiving something so traumatic as this?"
Agent Bristow let out a sad laugh. The irony of the comment danced along the surface of her facial emotions.
"Doctor, the scar on my abdomen is the least traumatic of things I have dealt with or am dealing with at the moment."
"Ok, Agent Bristow. I guess we're finished here for now."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When she got to the end of her counting she couldn't figure anything more to count.
She had counted the invisible and visible chains that bonded her. She had counted the tiles in the room, the men who walked through the single door, the questions she was asked and how many tools where spread before her if she didn't answer the question or threw a damaging insult.
It all ended with a beating, the words "I love you," and a needle in temple.
A/N: So what did you think? More? Or never write again?
Ha-ha, I've been super uber nice and I've decided to give you two more chapters to read!!
Sincerely,
The Queen of I-Shall-Poke-You-With-My-Trusty-Banana-"Poke"-"Poke"
P.K.
P.s. Someone needs to explain to me the spork story of FF.net, I think I've gotten to a certain level of understanding, but hence, I alert you, it's a very, very minute level of comprehension. (
Author: PKay
Summery: Even the dead cannot speak the truth without knowing it first; Sydney's life after her sudden reappearance.
Rating: PG-13 (just in case)
Disclaimers: Every new possession loads us with a new weariness.
John Ruskin
So in other words, Alias isn't mine. (If you don't get it, think vewy, vewy hard and you just might figure it out, but if you don't you can always ask me!)
Chapter 1: The Counting
She had been there so long she didn't care for the counting any longer. In the beginning she had counted the days, the minutes, the seconds. But nothing ever came of it.
She then started counting how many times he had kissed her, how many times he had held her hand, how many times he had helped her, how he had rescued her. He had rescued her from so many things. So she counted those. He had rescued her from Sark, from Sloane, from the useless guards that made her job harder than it already was, from her father, from Kendall, and from herself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Tell me again Agent Bristow, how did you get this?"
"I don't know, I don't remember, I've told you this before."
"Well surely you remember receiving something so traumatic as this?"
Agent Bristow let out a sad laugh. The irony of the comment danced along the surface of her facial emotions.
"Doctor, the scar on my abdomen is the least traumatic of things I have dealt with or am dealing with at the moment."
"Ok, Agent Bristow. I guess we're finished here for now."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When she got to the end of her counting she couldn't figure anything more to count.
She had counted the invisible and visible chains that bonded her. She had counted the tiles in the room, the men who walked through the single door, the questions she was asked and how many tools where spread before her if she didn't answer the question or threw a damaging insult.
It all ended with a beating, the words "I love you," and a needle in temple.
A/N: So what did you think? More? Or never write again?
Ha-ha, I've been super uber nice and I've decided to give you two more chapters to read!!
Sincerely,
The Queen of I-Shall-Poke-You-With-My-Trusty-Banana-"Poke"-"Poke"
P.K.
P.s. Someone needs to explain to me the spork story of FF.net, I think I've gotten to a certain level of understanding, but hence, I alert you, it's a very, very minute level of comprehension. (