a/n: thank you to elektra for an awesome betaing job. I asked at the last minute.. ohsolate at night... and she was willing... you rock dear! and I would also like to thank demon... she was always there on AIM listening to me beg and whine about this story and how my muse wasn't working... and rin for making me write too... and I would like to thank all the loiterers (at sd-1) because they scared me into writing the next chapter you guys rock.

Thank you to:

Brynne: hmm… so Aiden is a popular name for Sark? I didn't know that… yes, the prologue ended the chapter. It's because chapter 1 went back an entire year to when it all began and then we continue on from there. Chapter 7 was the midpoint of the entire fic. So from chapters 7-15, we're going into what happened after the prologue… hopefully that makes sense… if not, go back and look at the time stamps… lol… I believe the prologue said that she was attempting to go to the grave but couldn't… but that might have been chapter 7… I can't remember what I wrote anymore ;) lol… chocolate… please share!

valley-girl2: lol! I think I'd love to sneak up on a spy and see what his/her reaction would be. Zero self control can be a bit bad ;) hehe… I think Vartan actually hates it when random people go up and touch him… so if you're looking to score points with him, I would lay off the touching. :P sorry this is late!

nattie700: hehe… good to know! Hmm… I think I've heard about a reality show like that here in Cali too… yeah… post-Telling sure is depressing… ooh, don't worry about the hating Lauren, I already do. In fact… ::gets out a gun and shoots Lauren in the leg:: she's just too stupid for her own good… compared to syd that is ;) aww… I want season 1… I guess I'll just have to wait for my b-day… is Vaughn alive? But… how? I don't think so… hehe… confusion is good

well… I got to get going… concert time is in 15 minutes… and it takes 20 to drive there… oops ;) gah… wish me luck! Sorry this wasn't up earlier….


Chapter 8

August 03, 2005
Los Angeles, California
Sydney's and Vaughn's house
7:00 am

There was nothing else to do. She had cleaned up the house last night, dusting away the powdered surfaces that had not been brushed for months… more like a year. It was perfect. Sparkling clean, just as if a "for sale" sign should be hanging in the front yard. Looking around the house for possibly the last time, she went to the antique pottery jar for her car keys.

The white gold ring glittered in a stream of bright sunlight on her finger. A reminder of what had been. And what will never be. A reminder of the heart she lost, of a trail she never will walk. A reminder of a happiness that she will never experience again. Of that, she was sure.

Je veux what I never had.

Je desire what should have been.

Je souhaite for him to live again.

J'espere for me to find him for the last time.

Some people regarded her situation as a nasty bend in the road she has encountered. They thought she would live on, just like she did last time. They said that everyone met up with some type of bend, hers just being worse than usual. She knew it was not true. In her mind, there was a large yellow sign. A diamond. And in big, black, bolded, capitalized letters, it said "DEAD END." There was no way out. It was impossible to U-turn and drive back the way she came. There was no way to turn back time or to travel back in time. No matter how much she wanted to.

Putting the car keys into the ignition, she started driving to a destination she had never been before.

She was going to the cemetery.

To a gravesite she had never been to and consequently didn't know where it was located.

She had plenty of time to sort out how she felt today. Angry, sad, regret, happiness, joy. There were all there. Angry that he had left her there to live her life without him. Sad that he wasn't there with her, and that he had to die in such a horrible fashion. Regret, a major one—one that made adrenaline spill through her veins. Regret for the words unsaid and the actions that will never happen. Happiness for the hours, minutes, seconds, years that he's been by her side. Joy for the love that she still has for him. Joy because he had been her love, her only real love.

He had been the only one to understand her. He had been the one who was there to save her soul. He had been there, through it all. He had been the one who had known the truth about her since the beginning. He had been the one who had stood by her side. He had been the one who had loved her for being who she was, the real Sydney Bristow. Not the agent, but the woman she had been.

Past the early Wednesday rush hour traffic jam, which took two hours, she finally pulled up to rest at the cemetery gates.

To be totally honest, she wasn't completely sure if she was ready to let him go. In letting him go, she would no longer feel his presence for the few remaining hours. In letting him go, she would no longer feel his hands thread through her hair, his lips at her nape, his breath on her cheek. She would no longer see him in the darkness, shrouded with mystery. She would no longer see his handwriting on a scrap of paper. She was going to miss him… miss being with him on Earth.

Finally unlocking her seat belt, she stepped out of the car. Looking up at the sky in the process. It was typical LA in August weather. Bright sunny skies and not a cloud in sight. It wasn't fair. Clouds should've be covering every inch of the blue, not letting anything go through. There should have been pounding rain and flashes of lightning, and the deafening sound of roaring thunder. But nature was mocking her. Daring her to ruin its set cycle.

She couldn't take it. She couldn't. And so her knees collapsed. There was no way she could say goodbye to him. She didn't want him to ever leave her. The months that he had stayed after he had died were both a torture and a guilty pleasure. The way that he wasn't really there killed her. But the secret pieces of paper that found its destination upon her nightstand only proved to her that he was her guardian angel. The love letters, the flowers, the moonlight talks. All were reminders. It reminded her that she loved him. As if every particle of her being, when with him, would bond together, not with an molecule or element, but with love.

Love. As if love could torture someone. But it can… and she's learned it all too well.

~*~*~

August 03, 2005
Los Angeles, California
Sydney's and Vaughn's house
1:34 PM

She had no conscious memory of making it back home. She just remembered flopping onto the couch, key in hand as if she had just stepped through the door. The car, without a scratch, sitting in her driveway. Perhaps she had never even left the house. Maybe it had been her mind forming all these images and putting it in motion through her head.

She knew now that there was no way she could survive without him. She had never been living this past year. She might have been moving, but she had not been living. It was better to be doing than to be dwelling in her mind.

She had the perfect plan.

"I do have the perfect plan, don't I?" Her own voice shocked her. She hadn't realized that she's started talking out loud. But it did fill a void that had been missing. It made her feel more secure in what she was about to do. She had nothing left to live for. There was nothing else. She had lost Vaughn. She had lost the baby. Sark was dead. Anna was dead. Sloane, she knew the CIA could handle. Weiss had his wife to care about. Marshall had Carrie to take care of him if he needed it. Will… she was sure would understand. Her father however, she wasn't sure. She didn't know if he could survive this, but she knew he would deduce her reason. There was nothing left…. Nothing. She was free to go.

I'm free.

Without her knowledge, she was standing once again in front of the bathroom mirror. A mirror that was really a cabinet. A medicine cabinet.

Her movements were systematic. Opening the cabinet. Taking out all the pill bottles within: Advil. Tylenol. Motrin. Valium. Ambient.

Going to the kitchen cabinet, she looked through the bottles of liquor. Two of them caught her eye. Captain Morgan and Jack Daniels. She took out both bottles.

Perfect.

She chose a champagne flute, delicate, innocent. Pouring in both drinks till it was almost full. Slowly, she dropped the ibuprofen, the acetaminophen, the pain drug, the sleeping drug. With each tablet that fell in, a droplet of the liquid would splash up onto the rim of the glass. With each tablet, she remembered another memory of them together. The CIA office where they met. The Ops center. The warehouse. The pier. The park. The observatory. Their house. She watched the tablets slowly turn back into powder. Dissolving in the thin liquid, making it thick. Twirling the mixture with her spoon, she watched the rise and fall of the particles. It was saturated. It was ready.

Careful not to spill it, she walked into her bedroom. Their bedroom. Setting it down on the nightstand, she glided out again. She was unbelievable giddy. She just wanted to be with him again… and that was all that mattered. She was methodically taking down the pictures of them, carrying them back and placing them next to the nightstand and on the bed.

Gently, she lowered herself until she was under the covers. Staring at the pictures, she started drinking her cocktail. The last thing she wanted to see were his piercing green eyes. Those were going to be the eyes she would wake up to in Death. They had to be.

The glass was empty and so she set back down on the table.

Whispering to the pictures, she said, "I hope you're waiting for me. It's working and I'll see you soon. I love you."

~*~*~

August 03, 2005
Los Angeles, California
2:06 PM

Outside a pair of green eyes stared in through a window. Shocked and in horror, the owner of the eyes put his fist through the glass. He had to get to her.

Before it was too late.

~tbc~