A/N: well.. here's the next chapter... and thanks to demon who forced me to write and for betaing.
and... I kinda cheated... most of it is alias quotes... ;)
Thank you to:
valley-girl2: you know… what if I told you I was a guy… wouldn't that totally null the "Good Girl" comment? ;) JOKING! I'm a girl… hehe… sorry about the late uploading yesterday, I had a meeting that started at 11AM yesterday and I was up preparing it all night and all morning. And then, I had a concert… hehe… and then one after I uploaded… hehe… see, so you do not have zero self-control! You have lots more than thousands of his fans… I hope this update is on time! :)
sigh… more concerts and meetings today… wish me luck! And I'm missing alias tonight… :( gah!
Chapter 9
August 03, 2005
Los Angeles, California
2:01 PM
The man with deep emerald eyes had to stop her, before she stole the artifact. An artifact that was found in LA.
It had been strange, however, being called back to his hometown. Sure, there had been times when he'd stopped by to visit her, but for his superiors to decide that he could come back, officially… The least he could say was that he had been flabbergasted. They'd ordained for him to stay away from LA until the operation was done, incase someone recognized him. He was supposed to be dead after all. But because Sloane had managed to station a retreat back in LA, they needed someone here. But instead of asking his partner, he was sent. It was both a blessing and a curse.
He had to get that stubborn thief otherwise the artifact would be lost. Resulting in another yelling match with his handler.
Thankfully, the burglar was traveling on roads that were familiar. Really accustomed to, actually. Too close to home, in fact.
Don't turn left. Please, don't turn left.
"Damn it, she turned left," he spoke into his ear-piece. His words were said in between large gulps of air. He had been chasing the woman for five miles while wearing tactical gear.
"You mean she's turned onto your girlfriend's lane?" an accented British voice spoke, laced with mockery.
"Shut up, Aiden."
"Touché."
Watching the woman, the green-eyed man suddenly knew that she knew exactly who was chasing her. "Aiden… how much does Sloane know about me?"
"You know how silly that question is. You're dead. Even the best wouldn't be able to figure it out. It's under layers and layers of bureaucratic crap."
"Are you sure he thinks that?"
"Why are you pondering this now? We have work to do and a spy to catch," his voice disgustingly cheerful.
"I think I've been made."
"WHAT? Bloody God. What do you mean by that?"
"She just went into my house."
And then static was the only sound that Aiden heard.
~*~*~
August 03, 2005
Los Angeles, California
Sydney's and Vaughn's House
2:05 PM
It was working… and commencing very well. She was fading… dwindling into darkness. A warm comfort zone. And the knowledge that Vaughn was waiting for her was her touchstone. The one reason why she knew she had to do this. Her love for him, too deep. Her loyalty to him, bound at the soul. There was no way out. If she had continued living, there would have been no one else. There would have been no love, no feelings. But if she left this world and entered Death, there would be no madness, no craziness, no more hurt feelings. And only love would be her guiding light to reach him. That she knew. With all her heart, she knew.
Je veux. Je désire. Je souhaite. J'espère.
Languidly, memories began to flow towards her.
When he first met her: Some more coffee. And something to eat.
I mean, it's like Tolstoy long. Devlin says it could take weeks to verify. But I know we could use another double agent in SD-6.
Unless I had an instinct about you.
Their first clandestine meeting: Yeah. Can you show me what a bag looks like again?
Memories came faster and faster: No, actually, you won't. Uh, I'm being replaced by a senior officer. It seems I wasn't experienced enough to be your handler.
Who am I talking to?
Your invisible friend.
My guardian angel.
Hi. How did you find me?
You told me a couple of months ago that when you feel the need to disappear, you go to the observatory. But the observatory was closed. And then I remembered you said the pier calms you down. But you weren't there. And you weren't at the bluffs and the palisades, either.
You didn't really go to all those places.
Yeah, I did. And then I remembered you liked the train station, too. Normal people going to their normal jobs.
I can't believe you remember that.
If you're doing what I think you're doing, I'm in if you need me.
Vaughn, if you're worried about me... you don't need to be.
There's no upside to keeping me informed? You didn't tell me about Monolo or that you had discussions with my mother! You didn't even tell me that you were seeing Alice again!
Wait. What is this about?
This is about me being too old to be coddled!
Your life is complicated, Sydney! Forgive me for trying to make it any easier!
Did you ask him to do that?
There are so many issues with this, I don't know where to begin.
Hold on a second. I think we should have an open mind about this.
An open mind.
It'd be rude to overlook such a generous offer without proper consideration.
I wouldn't dream of it.
Hey, guys... I just talked to base, we did it. We kicked their asses…Hey... guys, did you hear what I said? Asses... kicked.
You're so beautiful.
Dinner's ready.
You do have an oven, you know. We can reheat it.
And finally, his last words to her: Bye. I love you too.
And the ghost said, Je t'aime. Toujours. Pour eternité.
She was finally falling, into a pool of warmth. A pool of white, bright light. Dying when he died. Staying alive in body only. There was no soul in the vacant body. Following after him. Ultimately. Enfin.
~*~*~
August 03, 2005
Los Angeles, CA
Sydney's and Vaughn's House
2:05 PM
He automatically knew where the woman ran. Following instinct. There was only one possible opening without alerting someone inside the house.
The basement light well.
He followed at a brisk rate. He had to somehow have control of this situation. He couldn't alert Sydney to the possibility that someone was in the basement. He wouldn't risk her life. A pledge is a pledge. And I place her life over mine.
Looking in through the window, he saw that the woman was trying to get into the house. He was in fear, fear that Sydney would be hurt. Shocked that this woman would even try such a bold move. Astonished that this woman was so naïve in the world of spying.
He had to get to her. Before it was too late.
He smashed through the remaining window, too caught up in what was about to ensue to notice the already broken window to his right.
It was easy catching up to her. He had her cornered almost immediately. Despite the fallen chair and paint buckets, nothing else was disturbed.
He took out a tranquilizer dart and shot it into her upper arm. She lost consciousness, but not before she emitted a loud scream.
Damn it. This day just can't get any worse can it?
Making sure that she was out, he easily opened the door that the woman had been trying to break down. He slipped the key back into his pocket and walked into the kitchen of his house.
He noticed first the glass bottles… peculiar.
Walking closer, he noticed the labels. s***. What is she doing with these things? She doesn't drink this type of stuff…normally… but how much do I know about her life these days? I haven't exactly visited her often…
Next were the capsule containers. Orange, translucent. Five of them, scattered all over the counter.
It hit him all too suddenly what she had done.
Am I too late? Am I?
He was panicking and he knew it. Running through every room leading down the hall.
The living room: empty.
The family room: empty.
The library: empty.
The bathroom: empty.
The guestroom: empty.
He was losing rooms… losing choices.
The master bedroom. The one he had hoped for, and the one he had dreaded.
Opening the door, he saw her at the bed. He relaxed a little. She looked like she was asleep. But appearances had been deceiving before… and were again.
The champagne glass, rimmed with residue. The pictures of them together huddled around her. Pictures of him. Pictures of her. The love. The compassion. The life.
He knelt by the bed. Touching her face again, so soft and warm.
Warm was good. Her skin is still warm. A clue that she was still alive.
Pressing two fingers on her slim neck, he felt for her jugular.
What have I done? What have I done?
"Merde."
~tbc?~