Title: A Pale Flame
Author: Emily O'Donnell
Genre: S/V Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC though they haven't been taking the best care of them lately.
Summary: In the darkness of her own soul, one pale flame remained burning. The memory of him was all that kept her warm. He was her last tether to sanity.
Author's Note: I'm not new to the world of fanfiction, I was a rather prolific author in the world of X-Files fanfiction a few years back but this is my first Alias fanfic and my first fanfic written in several years (since the x-files started going downhill) So please read, review, let me know what you think. The timeline of this story spans the course of Syd's missing two years. Some of the events that occur in this story don't quite fit in with the Alias timeline that has been created this season so I suppose it could technically be considered AU but I consider it to be part of the traditional Alias universe.
Date: January 15, 2004
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Chapter One:
A Prayer In the Dark
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She woke in darkness, her thoughts drifting as if still trapped in a dream like state. The blackness seemed to claw at her, seeking to get under the flesh and into her mind. A wild panic gripped her mind and all rational thought flew far away. Bolting upright, she banged her head hard on the roof of her tiny cell. Sparks of pain traveled through the length of her body and a soft whimper escaped her lips.
Sydney Bristow never broke. She knew that in her heart but every day she felt herself slipping further from sanity. She would not break, but it was entirely possible that she might lose her mind in the fight for her soul.
No light entered her cell, no cracks for warmth to slip through. She had lost track of the days she had been trapped in this tiny room; there was no day when one was caught in eternal night. She felt as though she had been trapped here for weeks, without food or drink or the light of day.
It had been far too long since she had heard a human voice. At this point in her desperation she would have been thankful just to hear something from that bastard, Oleg, the one who was keeping her here. It had been even longer since she had felt the warmth of a loving touch on her cracked skin and broken body.
Her eyes filled with tears that dripped unseen into the oblivion of the cell. She curled herself tight into a ball, fetus style on the cold cement floor. In her mind's eye, she could see his eyes gazing at her with such overwhelming love and tenderness. She could feel the touch of his hand smoothing her skin when they lay naked in the twilight, speaking in whispers of their love for one another. His hands on her back, holding her tightly, his legs tangled with hers, his lips on her skin. She could feel it all but he was far from her now, she had no way of knowing if he still lived, if he had moved on.
Her thoughts of Vaughn always overwhelmed her to the point of exhaustion. A sob broke free, wrenched from deep inside where the pain was greatest. No amount of physical pain could compare to what she felt when she thought of Vaughn and the fact that she was now dead to him. Dead to his heart and soul and mind.
"Vaughn," his name was a broken prayer that spilled from her lips.
As much pain as they caused her, these memories of him were her only true salvation. The fire that had raged inside of her for so long had gone out. All of her anger toward Sloane and the Alliance was gone, replaced only by bitter acceptance that she had lost. In the darkness of her own soul, one pale flame remained burning. The memory of him was all that kept her warm. He was her last tether to sanity.
Home was behind her now, her friends, her father, and her lover. She wondered what cruel twist of fate had steered her life in this direction where she lingered in the depths of night. There was no shadow here, only pure darkness like her prison was a mirror of what was left inside of her. All else had faded, even her own mind, her soul.
She closed her eyes and curled tighter within herself, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking gently to keep warm. As if they were his arms and he was keeping her safe. Sydney struggled to steady her nerves, calm her racing mind. She was Sydney Bristow and she would never break, she could not give them the pleasure of finding her ranting and raving with madness next time they opened her cell. Her mind told her that she could still find some way to get out of this but her heart told her that she would never leave this dark and dismal tomb.
"Vaughn, I love you," she had taken up the habit of speaking into the darkness. She did not care if her captors heard her; it mattered little to her anymore. All that mattered was that she struggle to preserve some dregs of sanity. "When I find you again, I'm never going to leave your side. You'll see. We'll leave the CIA together, move somewhere far away from all the pain and the betrayal. Do you remember all of our plans? France in the summertime so our children could see their father's home country. We could all walk on the beach and watch the sun set like you and I did that night when we first made love." The tears were flowing freely now. Her voice, already raspy from too little use, was choked now with broken sobs.
"When you find me, I'll tell you how much I love you." The agony became too much for her and she lowered her head against the stone, sobbing into the silence.
After a few minutes, she heard a familiar sound approaching in the distance. Footsteps, coming from down the hall. With a gasp she sat up and hastily scrubbed a hand across her face. She scurried into the corner of the cell, away from the door, fearful of what might be coming for her this time.
The window slid open and she gasped in the sudden blinding light that struck her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she crawled toward the window as if she could find a way to squeeze through the cracks and escape.
She was frozen in stillness as she met the eyes of her captor, for a moment she thought she saw him there. Green eyes gazing down on her with fear and love. She stretched her hands toward him, pleading for salvation.
"Vaughn," his name spilled from her once more. A prayer to her own personal god.
A mocking laughter came from the other side of the door, pouring through the crack of the window. She blinked again at the harsh sound and the illusion vanished, Oleg's laughter continued.
"You think he will save you?" The contempt in his voice was palpable and made her shrink back away from him in fear. Anger filled her heart, erasing the numbness and despair that had overtaken her for so long.
"Your precious Agent Vaughn is most likely wallowing in a self induced stupor right now. Drinking himself to death. Or, even more likely, he is lounging in the arms of another woman, more beautiful than you. All thoughts of you have gone from his head. You are nothing now. Sydney Bristow is gone; you are nothing now but Julia Thorne. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will truly be free."
The window slid shut with a harsh snap in Sydney's face. She was left alone once more, in the darkness with only her memories to keep her warm.
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