8
Sydney trudged through her front door, abandoned her suitcase, and collapsed heavily onto the couch. It was late, and she was exhausted from her flight. Thankfully, when she'd dropped off the copied Russian military intel on her way home from the airport, she'd been informed that Dixon had given her the next couple of days off, a rare occurrence.
She knew that if she sat on the couch any longer, she would fall asleep, so she hauled herself up and made her way to her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes as she made her way to the bed, leaving a trail behind her. Sydney slipped between the cool sheets, closed her eyes, and immediately was asleep.
She raised a hand to knock on the door. She paused, hand stilled in mid- air, when she noticed her skin was a pale white. She looked around and saw that her surroundings were devoid of colour, appearing in variant shades of gray. Everything was slightly indistinct, as though it was out of focus. She concentrated on the door again, and knocked twice. A moment passed. The door was pulled open; revealing a tired face, eyes empty and mouth turned down in a frown.
"You're late." He said in a voice pregnant with irritation and impatience.
"Sorry, I was unexpectedly delayed." She heard herself reply. She was carried forward into the room by this body, so like her own, and yet not hers at all.
"It matters not." He said as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I have the location of the cube." He turned towards his desk and reached for a file sitting atop it. She felt something slide out of her sleeve and into her hand, hard and cool and comforting. "I want you to contact Walker and retrieve it for me." He was saying, but his words were meaningless to her. The sound of her pounding heart was all she could hear as she stepped forward and wrapped her arm around his neck. Quickly, before either of them could prevent it, she sliced the blade of the knife across his throat. She stepped back as he struggled to turn towards her, his hand flying to the wound to stop the river of red that poured forth. It looked artificial, the bright red juxtaposed against it's gray surroundings, but she was all too familiar with the smell of blood. It was real.
"J.Julia." he gurgled, shock and incomprehension etching his eyes.
She gazed down at him with a burning anger as he sank to the floor. "My name is Sydney Bristow." A light shone in his eyes as realization hit him full force. She crouched so that she was eye level with the man. "I know what you did to me." She continued. "I know what you tried to do to him. My mother, my real mother was right to do what she did, to protect him from you. And now you won't live to see if the prophecy is true. Your life has been a waste."
She stood and walked towards the door. "In a way, you're lucky. If he had been the one to find you first, your death would have been much more painful and much more leisurely." She paused in the doorway and threw a glance behind her at the fallen man. Her voice was poisoned with acidity as she said "Goodbye, Father."
Sydney's eyes snapped open, her breath coming fast and furiously. She fought to calm herself as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She leaned over, hair hanging in her face and fists gripping handfuls of bedding, as she tried to make sense of the images fading from her mind. The echo of one word in particular caused her heart to jump: Father.
Was it simply a dream, or was it a memory, long repressed until now? If it was the latter, whom had her mother been right to protect? What had Lazarey done to her? Why had she called him "Father"? Sydney was dizzy with confusion.
She rose and glanced out the window. Soft morning sunlight streamed through her curtains, but it did nothing to warm the chill in her blood. She padded down the hall and into the bathroom. She reached into the shower and turned the water on, as hot as she could stand it.
Sydney spent the morning and part of the afternoon curled up on the couch, trying to concentrate on a book. Her thoughts, however, kept turning to more disturbing matters; Sark, and the intel he had given her, her dream. She had to get out of the house.
She found herself at the hospital. She made her way to Vaughn's room and paused outside the door. She peered in at him through the glass, a lump burning her throat as she noticed his paper white skin and the dark circles under his closed eyes. Quietly she pushed open the door. His eyes slowly opened as she approached the bed, and Sydney halted. "You're awake." Sydney said, and her voice was shaky with tears. A smile of relief lit her face.
"Hey." He said quietly, with a weak smile of his own.
She moved forward and sat in a chair beside his bed. "When did you regain consciousness?"
"Last night."
"And you. you're okay?"
"Relatively speaking." He replied with a small chuckle.
Sydney smiled again, and an awkward moment passed between them. "Vaughn," she began, "I'm sorry."
"Sydney, you don't have to apologize." Vaughn quickly interrupted. "You did what needed to be done. If you hadn't stabbed me, Simon Walker would have put a bullet in my brain."
She nodded her head, tears spilling down her cheeks, and she reached over and gripped his hand. "I know. I just. I don't know what I would have done if you had. if you." She couldn't bring herself to finish. Vaughn smiled warmly, and brought his other hand to her cheek. He wiped away a tear.
They stayed that way for a moment, like two lovers caught forever in a painting: Vaughn caressing her cheek, and gazing into each other's eyes. They didn't notice that Lauren had entered the room until she cleared her throat as she stood, arms crossed, frowning down on them. Immediately, Vaughn and Sydney pulled away from each other. "Michael, " she said, "you promised me you were going to try and get some sleep."
"It's my fault." Sydney said as she stood. "I just came to see if he was any better. I didn't mean to wake him."
"Yes, well, if it's all the same, I think it'd be best if you leave now." Lauren said. She moved to the opposite side of Vaughn's bed, and pulled his blanket up over his chest. "Michael has much recuperating to do, as I'm sure you're quite aware."
"Yes," Sydney replied, her voice tainted with the anger that was beginning to flood her veins, "I am aware of that." She glanced back at Vaughn, who remained silent and refused to look at either of them. Her voice softened. "I'll come by tomorrow, when you're feeling more rested." He looked up at her, and his eyes were mixed with apologies and gratitude. Sydney wasn't about to make things worse for him by being baited into a petty argument with his wife. He smiled and nodded, and Sydney turned on her heel and left the room.
She was halfway down the hall when she heard Lauren call her name. Sydney turned to face her. "Yes, Lauren?" She asked, her voice stiff with formality.
"I don't appreciate you sneaking in here to make advances on my husband behind my back."
" 'Making advances'?" Sydney said incredulously. "That is not why I came here, you paranoid freak. I came to make sure that Vaughn is okay."
"How considerate of you, seeing as how it's solely your fault that he is in the hospital to begin with."
"It is not solely my fault. I think Simon Walker can shoulder a little blame, as well." Sydney replied, her voice coming out louder then she had meant it to. "I apologize that I had to hurt Vaughn, but if it weren't for me, he would most likely be dead right now."
Lauren was clearly seething now. "Given your history with men, I'm surprised he isn't dead."
Sydney's voice dropped dangerously low. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I know your history. Any man you get close to inevitably winds up dead. You're a poison upon the male population." Her face was unbearably smug. "I don't think I can be blamed for wanting you to stay away from my husband."
Sydney stepped closer, and fought every urge within her being to punch Lauren in her notably large teeth. "He may be your husband," she hissed, "but Vaughn is still my friend. We will see each other if we want to." She left Lauren staring angrily after her.
****
Sydney stalked angrily up the front steps and rang the doorbell. She heard footsteps approach the door, and it was pulled open to reveal a smiling Weiss. "Syd." he began.
"Please tell me you have copious amounts of alcohol somewhere in your house."
"What? Uh, no, I don't." His face melted into concern as he saw how upset Sydney was. "Syd, what's wrong?"
"Get your things. You and I are going to get thoroughly plastered tonight."
"O. kay?"
****
They wound up at a small bar, not far from their houses. They were seated side by side on a bench along a wall in the back. Sydney noticed that he wasn't keeping pace with her, that she was already on her fourth drink while Weiss was still nursing his second, but she didn't care. She needed to clear her mind and he was proving to be the perfect sounding board. She told him everything: from the kiss she and Sark had shared, to the troubling dream from the night before, up to the confrontation between her and Lauren. "You're a liar." She finished as she took another gulp from her drink.
"I'm a liar." He smiled. "Why is that?"
"You told me Lauren was "a good person". Obviously, you're a liar."
"Syd."
"No. I don't want to hear it. She's a bitch and there's no convincing me otherwise." Another gulp. "Can you believe the nerve of her? Implying that I was merely there to flirt with Vaughn? Bitch." She muttered into her drink.
"Well, it must be hard for her to see you with him, given your past with Vaughn."
Sydney sighed irritably. "Can you pretend to be a girl, for a moment? I don't want to hear reasonable explanations for her attitude. I just want someone who will listen to me mock every negative attribute she has, and then nod in agreement."
"Sorry. Mock away."
"She's paranoid. She's boring. She makes these disgusting, smoochy faces with Vaughn in the office. How inappropriate is that?"
"Because locking lips with Vaughn amidst the ruins of the SD-6 offices was appropriate?"
Sydney ignored him. "And she's obviously not a real blonde."
"How do you know that?"
She snorted. "Nobody with eyebrows like hers is a natural blonde, Weiss."
"I see. You know, I never figured you for the superficial type, Syd."
"You're right. That was mean." She grinned wickedly. "But I enjoyed it anyway."
Weiss laughed despite himself. "Well, that's something then." He put his arm around her. "Whatever cheers you up is fine by me."
Sydney leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Weiss. You've been a really good friend to me."
"It's not hard to do." He said.
Sydney grinned and sat up. She finished off her drink and signaled to the waitress for another one. Weiss smiled slyly at her. "What?" She asked.
"So. you kissed Sark, did you?"
"Grow up. It was a cover. Nothing more."
"Right, right. Of course." He said in mock seriousness.
"It was!"
"Yeah, I was just wondering: did you enjoy it? Was it everything you ever dreamed of?"
"Shut up." She said as she stood, her legs wobbly from the tequila. "I'm going to the washroom."
"You're avoiding the question, Syd!" he called after her. "I'm taking that as a 'yes'!"
When she re-emerged from the washroom, she started to make her way back to Weiss, but she felt a pair of eyes tracking her movements. She glanced around her until she found the source. He turned as soon as Sydney spotted him and began making his way to a back exit. She followed him out the door and into the cool night air. "Another back alley, Sark? Don't bother looking for an encore." She said as she checked that they were alone.
"Pity. I quite enjoyed your performance in Milan."
"That's great. What do you want?"
Sark's eyes narrowed, and he stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. Sydney felt herself sway as she waited for him to say something. "Sydney, are you drunk?" he finally asked.
"Sark, you must have been watching me for some time in there. You know perfectly well that I am drunk."
"I saw you consume four tequila Caesar's, but frankly, I expected an agent of your caliber to be able to hold her alcohol better."
"Fuck you."
"Ah, I see that our usual witty exchange will be entirely one-sided tonight."
Sydney replied with a scowl.
Sark smirked. "I thought you might like to know that I discovered something else about your time with the Covenant."
Sydney's scowl immediately vanished, and she stepped closer to Sark. "What?"
"It would seem that, while he may not be the man who ordered your kidnapping, my father was the man in charge of your brainwashing and recruitment into their operations."
"Lazarey was part of the Covenant?"
"Apparently so. He maintained his position within the Russian government in order to siphon intelligence to them. No one but the Covenant knew about my father's real loyalties."
Sydney detected a note of bitterness in his voice, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Maybe that's why I killed him." She said, as she thought back to her dream. "Maybe the brainwashing wore off, and I remembered what he had done to me."
"Perhaps."
Sydney sighed and rubbed her palms into her eyes, trying to focus her brain on the information swimming through her head, but it was impossible. "This is too much for me right now. I just want to get back to drinking my cares away."
"Hard day at the office?" Sark asked, amused.
"No, I had the day off actually. I went to the hospital to see Vaughn."
"I take it he's not faring well."
"Oh, he is. He regained consciousness. However, I got into an argument with his shrew of a wife." She said bitterly.
Sark's eyes lit with surprise. "Sydney Bristow, I've never heard you speak so maliciously of anyone. Save Arvin Sloane and your mother, of course."
"Yes, well, the woman drives me crazy. She accused me of trying to steal her husband away."
"Were you?"
"No." She replied, then giggled. "Well, maybe a little. But then, she called me "a poison upon the male population." She finished, and she pouted sulkily.
"What a horrible woman." Sark said.
"Thank you!" Sydney exclaimed.
"Would you like me to kill her?"
Sydney's mouth dropped open, the horror of the suggestion creeping over her, until she realized that he was joking. She finally laughed. "No, that's all right. Thanks for the offer, though." She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "I should get back. Weiss will be wondering what's taking so long." She moved to the door.
"Sydney, you're not a poison." Sark said, in a voice that could be described as warm, if she didn't know any better. Nevertheless, she was touched.
"Thank you." She said as she looked back at him. She smiled, then disappeared into the bar.
Sydney trudged through her front door, abandoned her suitcase, and collapsed heavily onto the couch. It was late, and she was exhausted from her flight. Thankfully, when she'd dropped off the copied Russian military intel on her way home from the airport, she'd been informed that Dixon had given her the next couple of days off, a rare occurrence.
She knew that if she sat on the couch any longer, she would fall asleep, so she hauled herself up and made her way to her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes as she made her way to the bed, leaving a trail behind her. Sydney slipped between the cool sheets, closed her eyes, and immediately was asleep.
She raised a hand to knock on the door. She paused, hand stilled in mid- air, when she noticed her skin was a pale white. She looked around and saw that her surroundings were devoid of colour, appearing in variant shades of gray. Everything was slightly indistinct, as though it was out of focus. She concentrated on the door again, and knocked twice. A moment passed. The door was pulled open; revealing a tired face, eyes empty and mouth turned down in a frown.
"You're late." He said in a voice pregnant with irritation and impatience.
"Sorry, I was unexpectedly delayed." She heard herself reply. She was carried forward into the room by this body, so like her own, and yet not hers at all.
"It matters not." He said as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I have the location of the cube." He turned towards his desk and reached for a file sitting atop it. She felt something slide out of her sleeve and into her hand, hard and cool and comforting. "I want you to contact Walker and retrieve it for me." He was saying, but his words were meaningless to her. The sound of her pounding heart was all she could hear as she stepped forward and wrapped her arm around his neck. Quickly, before either of them could prevent it, she sliced the blade of the knife across his throat. She stepped back as he struggled to turn towards her, his hand flying to the wound to stop the river of red that poured forth. It looked artificial, the bright red juxtaposed against it's gray surroundings, but she was all too familiar with the smell of blood. It was real.
"J.Julia." he gurgled, shock and incomprehension etching his eyes.
She gazed down at him with a burning anger as he sank to the floor. "My name is Sydney Bristow." A light shone in his eyes as realization hit him full force. She crouched so that she was eye level with the man. "I know what you did to me." She continued. "I know what you tried to do to him. My mother, my real mother was right to do what she did, to protect him from you. And now you won't live to see if the prophecy is true. Your life has been a waste."
She stood and walked towards the door. "In a way, you're lucky. If he had been the one to find you first, your death would have been much more painful and much more leisurely." She paused in the doorway and threw a glance behind her at the fallen man. Her voice was poisoned with acidity as she said "Goodbye, Father."
Sydney's eyes snapped open, her breath coming fast and furiously. She fought to calm herself as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She leaned over, hair hanging in her face and fists gripping handfuls of bedding, as she tried to make sense of the images fading from her mind. The echo of one word in particular caused her heart to jump: Father.
Was it simply a dream, or was it a memory, long repressed until now? If it was the latter, whom had her mother been right to protect? What had Lazarey done to her? Why had she called him "Father"? Sydney was dizzy with confusion.
She rose and glanced out the window. Soft morning sunlight streamed through her curtains, but it did nothing to warm the chill in her blood. She padded down the hall and into the bathroom. She reached into the shower and turned the water on, as hot as she could stand it.
Sydney spent the morning and part of the afternoon curled up on the couch, trying to concentrate on a book. Her thoughts, however, kept turning to more disturbing matters; Sark, and the intel he had given her, her dream. She had to get out of the house.
She found herself at the hospital. She made her way to Vaughn's room and paused outside the door. She peered in at him through the glass, a lump burning her throat as she noticed his paper white skin and the dark circles under his closed eyes. Quietly she pushed open the door. His eyes slowly opened as she approached the bed, and Sydney halted. "You're awake." Sydney said, and her voice was shaky with tears. A smile of relief lit her face.
"Hey." He said quietly, with a weak smile of his own.
She moved forward and sat in a chair beside his bed. "When did you regain consciousness?"
"Last night."
"And you. you're okay?"
"Relatively speaking." He replied with a small chuckle.
Sydney smiled again, and an awkward moment passed between them. "Vaughn," she began, "I'm sorry."
"Sydney, you don't have to apologize." Vaughn quickly interrupted. "You did what needed to be done. If you hadn't stabbed me, Simon Walker would have put a bullet in my brain."
She nodded her head, tears spilling down her cheeks, and she reached over and gripped his hand. "I know. I just. I don't know what I would have done if you had. if you." She couldn't bring herself to finish. Vaughn smiled warmly, and brought his other hand to her cheek. He wiped away a tear.
They stayed that way for a moment, like two lovers caught forever in a painting: Vaughn caressing her cheek, and gazing into each other's eyes. They didn't notice that Lauren had entered the room until she cleared her throat as she stood, arms crossed, frowning down on them. Immediately, Vaughn and Sydney pulled away from each other. "Michael, " she said, "you promised me you were going to try and get some sleep."
"It's my fault." Sydney said as she stood. "I just came to see if he was any better. I didn't mean to wake him."
"Yes, well, if it's all the same, I think it'd be best if you leave now." Lauren said. She moved to the opposite side of Vaughn's bed, and pulled his blanket up over his chest. "Michael has much recuperating to do, as I'm sure you're quite aware."
"Yes," Sydney replied, her voice tainted with the anger that was beginning to flood her veins, "I am aware of that." She glanced back at Vaughn, who remained silent and refused to look at either of them. Her voice softened. "I'll come by tomorrow, when you're feeling more rested." He looked up at her, and his eyes were mixed with apologies and gratitude. Sydney wasn't about to make things worse for him by being baited into a petty argument with his wife. He smiled and nodded, and Sydney turned on her heel and left the room.
She was halfway down the hall when she heard Lauren call her name. Sydney turned to face her. "Yes, Lauren?" She asked, her voice stiff with formality.
"I don't appreciate you sneaking in here to make advances on my husband behind my back."
" 'Making advances'?" Sydney said incredulously. "That is not why I came here, you paranoid freak. I came to make sure that Vaughn is okay."
"How considerate of you, seeing as how it's solely your fault that he is in the hospital to begin with."
"It is not solely my fault. I think Simon Walker can shoulder a little blame, as well." Sydney replied, her voice coming out louder then she had meant it to. "I apologize that I had to hurt Vaughn, but if it weren't for me, he would most likely be dead right now."
Lauren was clearly seething now. "Given your history with men, I'm surprised he isn't dead."
Sydney's voice dropped dangerously low. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I know your history. Any man you get close to inevitably winds up dead. You're a poison upon the male population." Her face was unbearably smug. "I don't think I can be blamed for wanting you to stay away from my husband."
Sydney stepped closer, and fought every urge within her being to punch Lauren in her notably large teeth. "He may be your husband," she hissed, "but Vaughn is still my friend. We will see each other if we want to." She left Lauren staring angrily after her.
****
Sydney stalked angrily up the front steps and rang the doorbell. She heard footsteps approach the door, and it was pulled open to reveal a smiling Weiss. "Syd." he began.
"Please tell me you have copious amounts of alcohol somewhere in your house."
"What? Uh, no, I don't." His face melted into concern as he saw how upset Sydney was. "Syd, what's wrong?"
"Get your things. You and I are going to get thoroughly plastered tonight."
"O. kay?"
****
They wound up at a small bar, not far from their houses. They were seated side by side on a bench along a wall in the back. Sydney noticed that he wasn't keeping pace with her, that she was already on her fourth drink while Weiss was still nursing his second, but she didn't care. She needed to clear her mind and he was proving to be the perfect sounding board. She told him everything: from the kiss she and Sark had shared, to the troubling dream from the night before, up to the confrontation between her and Lauren. "You're a liar." She finished as she took another gulp from her drink.
"I'm a liar." He smiled. "Why is that?"
"You told me Lauren was "a good person". Obviously, you're a liar."
"Syd."
"No. I don't want to hear it. She's a bitch and there's no convincing me otherwise." Another gulp. "Can you believe the nerve of her? Implying that I was merely there to flirt with Vaughn? Bitch." She muttered into her drink.
"Well, it must be hard for her to see you with him, given your past with Vaughn."
Sydney sighed irritably. "Can you pretend to be a girl, for a moment? I don't want to hear reasonable explanations for her attitude. I just want someone who will listen to me mock every negative attribute she has, and then nod in agreement."
"Sorry. Mock away."
"She's paranoid. She's boring. She makes these disgusting, smoochy faces with Vaughn in the office. How inappropriate is that?"
"Because locking lips with Vaughn amidst the ruins of the SD-6 offices was appropriate?"
Sydney ignored him. "And she's obviously not a real blonde."
"How do you know that?"
She snorted. "Nobody with eyebrows like hers is a natural blonde, Weiss."
"I see. You know, I never figured you for the superficial type, Syd."
"You're right. That was mean." She grinned wickedly. "But I enjoyed it anyway."
Weiss laughed despite himself. "Well, that's something then." He put his arm around her. "Whatever cheers you up is fine by me."
Sydney leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Weiss. You've been a really good friend to me."
"It's not hard to do." He said.
Sydney grinned and sat up. She finished off her drink and signaled to the waitress for another one. Weiss smiled slyly at her. "What?" She asked.
"So. you kissed Sark, did you?"
"Grow up. It was a cover. Nothing more."
"Right, right. Of course." He said in mock seriousness.
"It was!"
"Yeah, I was just wondering: did you enjoy it? Was it everything you ever dreamed of?"
"Shut up." She said as she stood, her legs wobbly from the tequila. "I'm going to the washroom."
"You're avoiding the question, Syd!" he called after her. "I'm taking that as a 'yes'!"
When she re-emerged from the washroom, she started to make her way back to Weiss, but she felt a pair of eyes tracking her movements. She glanced around her until she found the source. He turned as soon as Sydney spotted him and began making his way to a back exit. She followed him out the door and into the cool night air. "Another back alley, Sark? Don't bother looking for an encore." She said as she checked that they were alone.
"Pity. I quite enjoyed your performance in Milan."
"That's great. What do you want?"
Sark's eyes narrowed, and he stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. Sydney felt herself sway as she waited for him to say something. "Sydney, are you drunk?" he finally asked.
"Sark, you must have been watching me for some time in there. You know perfectly well that I am drunk."
"I saw you consume four tequila Caesar's, but frankly, I expected an agent of your caliber to be able to hold her alcohol better."
"Fuck you."
"Ah, I see that our usual witty exchange will be entirely one-sided tonight."
Sydney replied with a scowl.
Sark smirked. "I thought you might like to know that I discovered something else about your time with the Covenant."
Sydney's scowl immediately vanished, and she stepped closer to Sark. "What?"
"It would seem that, while he may not be the man who ordered your kidnapping, my father was the man in charge of your brainwashing and recruitment into their operations."
"Lazarey was part of the Covenant?"
"Apparently so. He maintained his position within the Russian government in order to siphon intelligence to them. No one but the Covenant knew about my father's real loyalties."
Sydney detected a note of bitterness in his voice, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Maybe that's why I killed him." She said, as she thought back to her dream. "Maybe the brainwashing wore off, and I remembered what he had done to me."
"Perhaps."
Sydney sighed and rubbed her palms into her eyes, trying to focus her brain on the information swimming through her head, but it was impossible. "This is too much for me right now. I just want to get back to drinking my cares away."
"Hard day at the office?" Sark asked, amused.
"No, I had the day off actually. I went to the hospital to see Vaughn."
"I take it he's not faring well."
"Oh, he is. He regained consciousness. However, I got into an argument with his shrew of a wife." She said bitterly.
Sark's eyes lit with surprise. "Sydney Bristow, I've never heard you speak so maliciously of anyone. Save Arvin Sloane and your mother, of course."
"Yes, well, the woman drives me crazy. She accused me of trying to steal her husband away."
"Were you?"
"No." She replied, then giggled. "Well, maybe a little. But then, she called me "a poison upon the male population." She finished, and she pouted sulkily.
"What a horrible woman." Sark said.
"Thank you!" Sydney exclaimed.
"Would you like me to kill her?"
Sydney's mouth dropped open, the horror of the suggestion creeping over her, until she realized that he was joking. She finally laughed. "No, that's all right. Thanks for the offer, though." She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "I should get back. Weiss will be wondering what's taking so long." She moved to the door.
"Sydney, you're not a poison." Sark said, in a voice that could be described as warm, if she didn't know any better. Nevertheless, she was touched.
"Thank you." She said as she looked back at him. She smiled, then disappeared into the bar.
