Title: At A Loss
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Belonging to JJ and Co. If you are a member of JJ and Co. and would like to offer me a job, think about it real hard, and then let me know. Or you could just let me know. Either way, I will be awaiting your call. My number is 1-800- Alias47. Its not my fault if it doesn't work, sometimes I choose to disappear for years at a time, and they disconnect it. If that happens, check back in two years. If I still don't answer, then that means that the CIA finally accepted my offer to work for them, and I am somewhere secluded and secret, and you are just plum out of luck. If all else fails, you can try me at my email. I don't think anything should affect that.
Summary: She gave all she had for God and country. What now?
Author Note: Takes place during the two year absence Post-Telling. It alludes to some of the happenings of Season Three, but if you haven't seen it, it doesn't give anything away. Written for the Jan/Feb-and now March Sarkney challenge. (Although there is a brief mention of S/V in the beginning-stick it out Sarkney fans! I kept the S/V smut to a minimum-and yes there is a reason) Requirements were:
*Use a Monty Python quote
*Use of the quote "Agent Vaughn was just a little boy who was never good enough for you."
*A tissue box
*A secret
*Must take place during the 2 year absence of Sydney
I have to admit I like this story, and hope to continue it beyond the contest.
Rating: I dunno yet. Prolly R once I get going.
Feedback:If I get none, I write none. Easy isn't it? Email me at juliansark@aol.com or feel free to post here. Also let me know if you want on a pm list.
Another Author's note: Chances are, I will go back and edit the posts as I post them. You know, beef them up. Especially the first couple of posts that I do for the contest. I slacked off and now I am paying for it. So even if you have read it once, It may be different the next time around. Oh, and if you want anything obscure or challenging put in it, let me know (i.e. a Mrs. PacMan machine). This could be fun.
Nine Months
Nine months she had waited. For nine months, she had guarded a secret so cherished it had almost killed her. And now, after nine months, she would reveal that secret to the only one who mattered.
It had been nine months since that night, a night filled with gun shots and blood spray. It had taken nearly all of those nine months to fully comprehend what a life altering thing that night was. It had been the best and worst night of her life all rolled into one.
Vaughn had stopped the car in the parking lot of a local Wal-Mart, the only one in town that still closed at 9 PM. He had had that look in his eye, that look that you know he is up to no good. It started with mouth bruising kisses but soon, they had worked their way to the backseat, caught up in the spontaneity of it all. His hands worked their way up her shirt, while she reached down to undo the fly of his jeans.The heat of their bodies mashing together caused all the windows to fog up, and Sydney had to get out and rub them all down with her blue blazer. Somewhere along the way, Vaughn had pushed her back into the car and presented her with the plane tickets. Seeing the smile on her face Vaughn could see she was eager to get packing and to ride off with him on the redeye to wherever.
And then she had opened the door. All the elation she had felt only seconds earlier was sucked out of her as she walked into her apartment. Francie was sitting on the couch, doing God only knows what. Pushing her hair out of her face, Sydney sat down beside her, and began to check her voice messages on her cell. Smiling at Francie, she got up to get some ice cream, but paused as she heard Will's hushed voice in the receiver. It was only momentary pause, something so small that no one should have ever noticed, but had she sensed it? The blood rushed to Sydney's head as she strained to hear Will's words of warning. And then she felt sick, not unlike her first experience with tequila. She fought back the urge to let the fancy Italian dinner she had just had come back up. Could it be true?
Clicking off the phone, she moved over to the fridge that she and Fran had just bought just days before. Opening it, she asked her if she would like some ice cream, with the full knowledge that the only ice cream available was her stock favorite, coffee. Francie had never taken a liking to it, even after trying it several times at the constant chiding of Sydney, and subsequently hurling it up. Taking a huge spoonful, Sydney offered her some, and her heart sank as Fran took a huge bite of the mocha-laden custard. Choices flashed in front of Sydney, and she stood up, telling Francie she was going to go change.
Once in her room, she again fought the urge to project that night's meal onto her walls. She only had one thought running through her brain. Get the gun. Reaching into her nightstand, she gripped the cold steel and turned towards the doorway. The next few minutes were a blur of color and sound. Of course Francie, or the woman pretending to be her, had remembered that coffee was not Francie's flavor of the week. And obviously she had deduced that Sydney now knew that as well. The gun was tossed to the floor as the two engaged it floor combat, throwing punches and landing kicks into each other's abs. It had all ended with three gunshots. Two into her chest and one into her head, the last one pure revenge. Even now, when Sydney closed her eyes she could still see the blood pouring from her forehead. How had the real Francie died? She would never know. After firing that fatal shot, she had momentarily passed out from the pain in her shoulder.
Waking up, she knew she was no longer safe in the world she lived in. Hell, everyone save for her father and Vaughn had been killed due to her life as a CIA operative. There was no where that Sydney could go to escape from the life she led. And so she ran. She ran as fast as she could into the damp night. Hours later, she collapsed, exhausted and faint from blood loss. She stripped of her blazer which had, just hours earlier, wiped the only reminder of the most mind blowing sex she had ever had off the windows of her Ford Focus. Now it would save her life, acting as a tourniquet on her right shoulder. Always look on the bright side of life. She had always told herself to be positive, but now it seemed almost impossible. Over the past few years, she had done some pretty impossible things, and this would be one more to add to the list.
She had carried on for nine months, debating whether she could totally live a life void of Vaughn or her father. She had taken care of herself, digging herself out of the grimmest of situations. And now she was ready to face her past, admit that what she did was wrong, and pray that her family would forgive her. She wanted to take Vaughn and go far away, to the ends of the earth and beyond. Watching from the car, she saw him emerge from his apartment. WITH ANOTHER WOMAN. For nine months, she had tortured herself, agonizing over her split second life-altering decision to leave. Waiting to see his wrinkly face again, to hold him in her arms, and to smell the scent of musk that was trademark to him. And now, after nine painful months, he was there, kissing another woman.
Sydney pulled the car from its spot, pushing the pedal to the metal, tears streaming down her sullen cheeks. She had known in her heart of hearts that it couldn't be that easy, nothing in her life had ever been that easy. She turned her head to the backseat, her senses enveloped by the scent of baby powder mixed with lilacs. She had agonized over the perfect name for him, something that she would like and that Vaughn would respect. For nine months, she had scoured the internet and baby magazines, looking for a label for the package she carried. And she never found one that even came close to the one that was seared into her brain the moment she laid eyes on her son for the first time.
Those nine months had been the most trying time in her life. A week after she had run away from her life, she knew she was with child. The symptoms came quickly, reaffirming her fear. She had been living in Wisconsin, having used the emergency cash she always carried in her bra to fund a bus ticket there, and to rent out a small one room apartment in downtown Milwaukee. Not the ideal place to raise a child. She began to work odd jobs, using her training as an agent to get as much done on as little sleep as possible. And she had for nine months.
For nine months, she had battled morning sickness during the sacred hours she had reserved for sleep. For nine months, she wore flip flops in freezing weather to keep her feet from being uncomfortable. For nine months, she shopped in the maternity section of Wal-Mart, buying the bargain barrel items that no one else wanted. For nine months, she contemplated the end of her pregnancy. She feared it and welcomed it in the same breath. And as the days ticked down, it became harder and harder for her to wish it all away. Her belly began to swell, her throat became scratchy, and her eyes ached all the time. But she pressed on, willing herself to survive and someday go back to where she belonged.
Her water had broken at 4:47 in the morning. She had woken several minutes earlier to painful contractions. She had known this time would come. And she had delivered a baby before, just not her own. She knew enough to feel confident that she could do this. But something was wrong. The baby was breech, and without the help of someone else, there was no way it could be delivered successfully. She groped for the key to her apartment. Trying to keep her breathing steady, she touched the tip to her skin and applied the pressure needed to break it. She had never done a C-section before, all she knew was what she had seen watching A Baby Story with Carrie on their lunch break. It hurt like hell, but she somehow managed through it. Just another feat to add to the book. Weak from the experience, she reached into herself and pulled out her treasure. The screaming child immediately ceased upon a visual of his mother. But Sydney wasn't through yet. She bent forward and bit the umbilical cord that had attached him to her. Only then was she able to stare in wonder at the tiny creature before her. It was then that she knew what he would be called, and no other name would ever do. Julian.
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Belonging to JJ and Co. If you are a member of JJ and Co. and would like to offer me a job, think about it real hard, and then let me know. Or you could just let me know. Either way, I will be awaiting your call. My number is 1-800- Alias47. Its not my fault if it doesn't work, sometimes I choose to disappear for years at a time, and they disconnect it. If that happens, check back in two years. If I still don't answer, then that means that the CIA finally accepted my offer to work for them, and I am somewhere secluded and secret, and you are just plum out of luck. If all else fails, you can try me at my email. I don't think anything should affect that.
Summary: She gave all she had for God and country. What now?
Author Note: Takes place during the two year absence Post-Telling. It alludes to some of the happenings of Season Three, but if you haven't seen it, it doesn't give anything away. Written for the Jan/Feb-and now March Sarkney challenge. (Although there is a brief mention of S/V in the beginning-stick it out Sarkney fans! I kept the S/V smut to a minimum-and yes there is a reason) Requirements were:
*Use a Monty Python quote
*Use of the quote "Agent Vaughn was just a little boy who was never good enough for you."
*A tissue box
*A secret
*Must take place during the 2 year absence of Sydney
I have to admit I like this story, and hope to continue it beyond the contest.
Rating: I dunno yet. Prolly R once I get going.
Feedback:If I get none, I write none. Easy isn't it? Email me at juliansark@aol.com or feel free to post here. Also let me know if you want on a pm list.
Another Author's note: Chances are, I will go back and edit the posts as I post them. You know, beef them up. Especially the first couple of posts that I do for the contest. I slacked off and now I am paying for it. So even if you have read it once, It may be different the next time around. Oh, and if you want anything obscure or challenging put in it, let me know (i.e. a Mrs. PacMan machine). This could be fun.
Nine Months
Nine months she had waited. For nine months, she had guarded a secret so cherished it had almost killed her. And now, after nine months, she would reveal that secret to the only one who mattered.
It had been nine months since that night, a night filled with gun shots and blood spray. It had taken nearly all of those nine months to fully comprehend what a life altering thing that night was. It had been the best and worst night of her life all rolled into one.
Vaughn had stopped the car in the parking lot of a local Wal-Mart, the only one in town that still closed at 9 PM. He had had that look in his eye, that look that you know he is up to no good. It started with mouth bruising kisses but soon, they had worked their way to the backseat, caught up in the spontaneity of it all. His hands worked their way up her shirt, while she reached down to undo the fly of his jeans.The heat of their bodies mashing together caused all the windows to fog up, and Sydney had to get out and rub them all down with her blue blazer. Somewhere along the way, Vaughn had pushed her back into the car and presented her with the plane tickets. Seeing the smile on her face Vaughn could see she was eager to get packing and to ride off with him on the redeye to wherever.
And then she had opened the door. All the elation she had felt only seconds earlier was sucked out of her as she walked into her apartment. Francie was sitting on the couch, doing God only knows what. Pushing her hair out of her face, Sydney sat down beside her, and began to check her voice messages on her cell. Smiling at Francie, she got up to get some ice cream, but paused as she heard Will's hushed voice in the receiver. It was only momentary pause, something so small that no one should have ever noticed, but had she sensed it? The blood rushed to Sydney's head as she strained to hear Will's words of warning. And then she felt sick, not unlike her first experience with tequila. She fought back the urge to let the fancy Italian dinner she had just had come back up. Could it be true?
Clicking off the phone, she moved over to the fridge that she and Fran had just bought just days before. Opening it, she asked her if she would like some ice cream, with the full knowledge that the only ice cream available was her stock favorite, coffee. Francie had never taken a liking to it, even after trying it several times at the constant chiding of Sydney, and subsequently hurling it up. Taking a huge spoonful, Sydney offered her some, and her heart sank as Fran took a huge bite of the mocha-laden custard. Choices flashed in front of Sydney, and she stood up, telling Francie she was going to go change.
Once in her room, she again fought the urge to project that night's meal onto her walls. She only had one thought running through her brain. Get the gun. Reaching into her nightstand, she gripped the cold steel and turned towards the doorway. The next few minutes were a blur of color and sound. Of course Francie, or the woman pretending to be her, had remembered that coffee was not Francie's flavor of the week. And obviously she had deduced that Sydney now knew that as well. The gun was tossed to the floor as the two engaged it floor combat, throwing punches and landing kicks into each other's abs. It had all ended with three gunshots. Two into her chest and one into her head, the last one pure revenge. Even now, when Sydney closed her eyes she could still see the blood pouring from her forehead. How had the real Francie died? She would never know. After firing that fatal shot, she had momentarily passed out from the pain in her shoulder.
Waking up, she knew she was no longer safe in the world she lived in. Hell, everyone save for her father and Vaughn had been killed due to her life as a CIA operative. There was no where that Sydney could go to escape from the life she led. And so she ran. She ran as fast as she could into the damp night. Hours later, she collapsed, exhausted and faint from blood loss. She stripped of her blazer which had, just hours earlier, wiped the only reminder of the most mind blowing sex she had ever had off the windows of her Ford Focus. Now it would save her life, acting as a tourniquet on her right shoulder. Always look on the bright side of life. She had always told herself to be positive, but now it seemed almost impossible. Over the past few years, she had done some pretty impossible things, and this would be one more to add to the list.
She had carried on for nine months, debating whether she could totally live a life void of Vaughn or her father. She had taken care of herself, digging herself out of the grimmest of situations. And now she was ready to face her past, admit that what she did was wrong, and pray that her family would forgive her. She wanted to take Vaughn and go far away, to the ends of the earth and beyond. Watching from the car, she saw him emerge from his apartment. WITH ANOTHER WOMAN. For nine months, she had tortured herself, agonizing over her split second life-altering decision to leave. Waiting to see his wrinkly face again, to hold him in her arms, and to smell the scent of musk that was trademark to him. And now, after nine painful months, he was there, kissing another woman.
Sydney pulled the car from its spot, pushing the pedal to the metal, tears streaming down her sullen cheeks. She had known in her heart of hearts that it couldn't be that easy, nothing in her life had ever been that easy. She turned her head to the backseat, her senses enveloped by the scent of baby powder mixed with lilacs. She had agonized over the perfect name for him, something that she would like and that Vaughn would respect. For nine months, she had scoured the internet and baby magazines, looking for a label for the package she carried. And she never found one that even came close to the one that was seared into her brain the moment she laid eyes on her son for the first time.
Those nine months had been the most trying time in her life. A week after she had run away from her life, she knew she was with child. The symptoms came quickly, reaffirming her fear. She had been living in Wisconsin, having used the emergency cash she always carried in her bra to fund a bus ticket there, and to rent out a small one room apartment in downtown Milwaukee. Not the ideal place to raise a child. She began to work odd jobs, using her training as an agent to get as much done on as little sleep as possible. And she had for nine months.
For nine months, she had battled morning sickness during the sacred hours she had reserved for sleep. For nine months, she wore flip flops in freezing weather to keep her feet from being uncomfortable. For nine months, she shopped in the maternity section of Wal-Mart, buying the bargain barrel items that no one else wanted. For nine months, she contemplated the end of her pregnancy. She feared it and welcomed it in the same breath. And as the days ticked down, it became harder and harder for her to wish it all away. Her belly began to swell, her throat became scratchy, and her eyes ached all the time. But she pressed on, willing herself to survive and someday go back to where she belonged.
Her water had broken at 4:47 in the morning. She had woken several minutes earlier to painful contractions. She had known this time would come. And she had delivered a baby before, just not her own. She knew enough to feel confident that she could do this. But something was wrong. The baby was breech, and without the help of someone else, there was no way it could be delivered successfully. She groped for the key to her apartment. Trying to keep her breathing steady, she touched the tip to her skin and applied the pressure needed to break it. She had never done a C-section before, all she knew was what she had seen watching A Baby Story with Carrie on their lunch break. It hurt like hell, but she somehow managed through it. Just another feat to add to the book. Weak from the experience, she reached into herself and pulled out her treasure. The screaming child immediately ceased upon a visual of his mother. But Sydney wasn't through yet. She bent forward and bit the umbilical cord that had attached him to her. Only then was she able to stare in wonder at the tiny creature before her. It was then that she knew what he would be called, and no other name would ever do. Julian.