Title- Wraith
Author- chatnoir
Summary- Is Vaughn haunting Sydney after his death?
Category- S/V, angst
Rating - PG13-R
Disclaimer- not mine, never has been mine, never will be mine sadly enough.
Distribution: SD-1, ff.net, others: please ask


A/N: thanks to rin, angelbleu, susan, mj for betaing it.

This was written in April 2003… so… it's a bit dated… and this is a re-post… I finally understand ff.net's upload directions. Thanks, Gabs!



Prologue

Sydney Bristow stared at her reflection in the mirror. To the casual eye, she looked normal: brown haired, tall, thin. However, she looked closer at her appearance today. She saw that her hair lacked its normal luster, and she realized that she's gradually lost a lot of weight in the past year. Many people said that she's begun to slouch whenever she sat down, and that her manner had changed considerably. She's heard them say that she's become glacial, distant, dead. But what they don't understand is that she is dead. Dead in soul, spirit, life. She no longer wanted to be physically trapped in this world. She longed to go back into her bed, crawl under the cold covers, and waste away. Especially today. August 3. It's been one year. To the hour. In a couple of minutes, it would be the exact time since he left her.

She took the engagement ring off her necklace and slid it on her right ring finger. Today she wasn't going hide it. Today she was going to honor him. Today she was going to visit his grave for the first time since she died along with him. She was determined to tell him to stop haunting her because she was going to see him again. Very soon.

A/N: fragments are intentional. (yes... syntax and all... but oh well...) thanks to angelbleu and susan. susan~ thanks so much for the grammar corrections! thank you, thank you, thank you! The Great Gatsby isn't mine. It's a great book by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Chapter 1

One year earlier: August 3, 2004
Barcelona, Spain
4:30 pm

Sydney was lying on the hotel room bed pondering over her life. SD-6 was gone, and it seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been a double agent. No more lies to tell Marshall and Dixon. She always told them the truth now. She had graduated with her masters in English a year ago. The continuing hope that one day she would become an English teacher. A dream for the future.

Every day seemed so much more stress free, especially with Vaughn around. He was always there with her, at work and at home. Their home. She had moved out of her apartment with Francie almost three months prior. Now Vaughn and she owned their own house. Not an apartment. A house. She had the suspicion that he was going to propose soon. Very soon. And so her life was the epitome of perfect.

Almost too perfect.

Which led to the nightmares at night. They were horrific sketches of the future. Always ending with her happy life destroyed, with Vaughn dead. There was always blood. Gallons of blood. The sticky scarlet red leaking from a hole in his head, staining the carpet. His face was an expression of shock, his green eyes clouded over. And then depending on which dream it was, it would be her father, her mother, or she that pulled the trigger. What an irony it was.

A ringing in the background disturbed her train of thought. "Hello?"

"Sydney, why don't we go out tonight?" the voice over the phone asked seductively.

"Vaughn! We have a mission to complete tomorrow. And sleep is necessary, like you so kindly reminded me last night. We can't stay up till 2am like we have been doing this entire week."

"You know you want to," he averred in a breathy whisper.

Sydney smiled. In her imagination, she could see his eyes coruscating with mischief, his mouth drawn in a smirk. There was no way she could ever say "no" to him. Never ever.

"Okay," she replied, feeling herself blush.

"Great. I'll see you downstairs at six then?" she could hear him smiling. His large grin that he saved for her. And only her.

"Yeah. I'll see you then."

"Oh, and Sydney? Wear the cream colored dress if you brought it." Her face burned, the blush turned into a darker shade of pink. He looked into my suitcase!

"Anything else do you want?" she bantered.

"Hmm… how about the diamond studs I gave you for your birthday?"

"Yes sir! Anything else?"

"Yes. One more thing. You."

And with that reply, she laughed. A true laugh filled with happiness. A laugh that had become all the more frequent within the past year.

"I'll see you at six then. I love you." She loved saying those three simple words. How could three little words convey so much emotion? It was just not possible. The mere concept still threw her off. Every time she said those words, she felt a rush of sentiment go through her body. Happiness, awe, affection. Warmth, desire, bliss. But most of all, love. It was an almost overwhelming love that made her dizzy.

"Bye. I love you too." And every time he said those three words, she fell in love with him all over again. They were a pair that was meant to last.

She put the receiver back onto the holder.

She thought over the conversation. Something was wrong with it. Something just didn't fit in there.

Then it struck her.

He had said "bye". It had always been, "See you when you get back," or "Be careful." But never "bye." Never. And the way he had said it was so gloomy, so final, leaning towards ominous. But it wasn't possible. He wasn't going anywhere. He had promised. And so she pushed the thought out, disregarded it as a simple slip of the tongue.

She stayed on the bed for a little while longer, trying to read her book. The Great Gatsby. It was one of her favorite books. One so simple on the outside, but so intricately put together. The symbolism so deep and foreboding. Carefully put together after a period of 10 years. The author died thinking he was a failure. That thought had always bothered her. Would she also die a failure? Would she ever capture Sark, Sloane, and her mother? Would her years of work never prove fruitful?

Sighing, she turned to see what time it was. 5:26. She had a little less than 35 minutes to get ready. Her years of covert training have taught her how to shower, dress, and put on make up swiftly. She really didn't need the 35 minutes; 20 minutes would have been sufficient. However, she wanted to look special for Vaughn tonight. She was going to wear the dress and the earrings that he wanted. She was going to put her hair up in a French twist that she knew he secretly loved. She was going to…

All thoughts of planning stopped when she heard a gun go off, too close for comfort. The bullet, whizzing; its sound amplified by the sudden silence. It found its target, resulting in a soft grunt. Then the unmistakable sound of a body landing on the floor.

All time froze at 5:28.

Her heart halted.

NO. No. Nonononononononono. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew the truth before she even got through the connecting door. She had felt a glacial hand reach into her and pull her soul out. She felt vacant, numb, dead.

And then she saw the blood seeping into the carpet and crawling, covering more area. The gallons of blood she saw in her dream. Am I living my dream?

She became calm. The type of calm that begs the question, "Why am I so calm? Because it doesn't make any sense. I'm supposed to be hysterical, sobbing, screaming at the world."

But she was calm. Her brain had shut down. She couldn't think.

But then, beyond the blood, she saw the body. His face was a picture of surprise. He was wearing a blue oxford shirt and khakis that would have matched her dress. She touched his visage. "Vaughn, wake up! You promised you wouldn't be going anywhere. Wake up. Please," she pleaded softly. She knew that it had been an instantaneous death. There was no hope. None.

He was still warm, but the temperature was fading fast. There was no bullet wound in his forehead, but in his heart. It had broken his heart.

"Sydney Bristow. Do not mess in games that you do not understand." The voice was so familiar.

Anna. She looked behind her into deep brown death filled eyes. But she had no strength left to fight.

"Kill me too. If you take him away, what's left? Kill me too. Please."

"And what's the fun in that? Just think of this as a lifelong torture." Anna's voice had always been like a snake, slippery and deadly.

Sydney stayed silent, looking at Vaughn. He was still beautiful. Always beautiful.

"Oh, and by the way, I believe he was going to propose tonight?" And with that, Anna left.

Oh my god. He was going to propose tonight at dinner. He was going to propose tonight. Hewasgoingtopropose. There was no glimmer of hope anymore. Nothing that showed the future would be okay. Nothing. Was. Going. To. Be. Okay. Ever. Again.

She saw the black velvet box in Vaughn's left hand. She took it out of his hand, and opened it. The ring was absolutely beautiful. The small single diamond shown with a brilliance that left her breathless. He knew my style; he knew that I like to keep things simple. He'll never put this ring on my finger. Never. She took the ring out of the box.

Inscribed inside were the words, "Pour mon ange, mon amour."

With those few words, the words that he said to her at night, right before they drifted off to sleep, she put her head on his torso. He was cold. He used to be warm, so warm. Then she cried tears of blood. Her love of her life was gone. She was an empty shell. Torture for an eternity.