Authors Note: Hey all, ok well this is my second Alias Fan fiction so let
me know what you think. It's almost 11pm and I still have to study for a
French test tomorrow so I wrote this kind of fast. This story takes place
a couple of days after 'The Two.' It's basically what Syd is thinking one
night. Let me know what you guys think. If you like this one you should
read my other fic called 'Cease to Exist' which is another post telling
fic. Thank you all and please review!
In Between Both
Death.
It is the one thing in this world that we cannot escape. The one thing that is inevitable no matter how much you fight it. It's rather ironic really, if you had asked me two years ago if death scared me, I would have given you a simple answer... No. Why should I be afraid to die when, no matter what, it's going to happen? Besides, what would it matter if I was scared to die, it's not like I can change the facts of life and live forever. If you asked me today if I was scared of death, I would still give you that very same answer, but that's where the irony comes into play because you see, I am not afraid of death because I had supposedly already died... Now why would I be afraid of something that had already happened? That is what I find even more ironic... I'm supposed to be dead, but here I am... No I don't fear death, but I do fear the after effects of it.
It was said that two years ago my charred, broken-down body was found in what remained of my apartment. It was said that the people that I love and cherish enough to call my family and friends had scattered my ashes across the Pacific Ocean. It was also said that the people I love moved on with their lives after dealing with my death. At first I was said to be the cause of great sadness, even near suicides, but then a couple of months later, the people I loved soon put me behind them, making my presents in their minds only a mere memory. Then, many months after the memories had left them, I had become nothing but a shadow, left in the past while they moved on in the present.
After a while people became accustomed to my death, they had mourned it, dealt with it, and then healed themselves each in their own individual ways. They were accustomed to going to work in the morning everyday to see the empty desk in which I once occupied. They had cried their tears of pain when the time was right or appropriate and they had dealt with the fact that I wasn't coming back. It was what they had come to terms with, what they had counted on... Well what they hadn't counted on was me coming back...
Like I said, I was nothing but a shadow to them anymore, just a lingering presents that was always there, gone, but not forgotten. I had died in the past.... So why was I here in the present, bringing up old feelings and reopening old wounds? At first they didn't believe... at first they didn't want to believe. They had seen my body, spread my ashes... they has buried their daughter, their friend, their lover... they had changed their lives in order to deal with the pain of losing me, so how was it possible for me to be standing before their very eyes?
That's what so funny... I don't know the answer. You see, they all moved on with their lives after believing me dead while I just woke up in a foreign country, the last thing I remember was fighting a person who had the face of my best friend and the heart of a killer. I remember my other best friend, left for dead in my bathtub while I held on for dear life. I remember sitting in my boy friends car, getting butterflies at the thought of spending a weekend with him in Santa Barbara. I remember everything with crystal clear accuracy, after all, it all happened three days ago right? Well, that's where I guess I'm wrong.
From what I've been told, I had been thought dead while really I just went missing. You want to know how long I went missing for... Two years. Two years have been stolen from my memory, lost forever in a never ending game of espionage, cover-ups, and conspiracies. At first I didn't believe what they were telling me... then I didn't want to believe, because not only were two years taken from me, but so was my life.
When I came back, everything was different. I didn't have a home to go home to, my stuff was all destroyed, charred and burnt, tainted by the people that had done this to me. Everything was gone... my books, my clothes, my CD's, my photos... everything. Worse of all, not only was everything different, but everyone was different also. One of my best friends was dead while the other was in witness protection; my father was in jail for, to me, and unjust reason, my co-workers and friends had all either moved away or now look at my as if I were a ghost of my former self. There was only one thing that made me not truly believe that this was happening... My boyfriend, the man I love with all of my heart and soul, the man I cherish more then any object or life itself was taken away from me.... Worse of all... he was given to another.
When he had finally buried my ghost.... The man I love married another woman. Out of all of the things that I have lost, my friends, my family, my home, and my house... he was the one thing that was absolutely priceless to me. I loved him and I still do love him, perhaps that's why it hurts so much. Everyday I go to work I have to see him... and his wife. He was the one who told me you know... he told me, right to my face that I was dead and that I had been so for nearly two year now. He told me about how he and the rest of the world had moved on and left me behind in the dark. He told me that my life was stolen from me, and that there is no way I can ever regain those two years that I had lost.
When I fist woke up in that alley way in Hong Kong, I was dazed and confused. I was also a little afraid, because like I said, the last thing that I remembered was fighting my best friends double. When I went to the safe house and waited, I was so scared for Will, my friend I found in the bathtub. I was delirious, but as soon as my lover Vaughn walked into the room I felt like I was a whole new person. I felt like I could breath again, but I knew, from the moment I threw my arms around him I knew... something was wrong. That's when he said it. That's when he told me everything. The worse part was seeing his shinny gold wedding ring on his left hand. I hated him at that moment. I didn't want to believe in his lies, because that was what they were to me, lies.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and lash out at the first thing that I could get a hold of, just so I could throw it at him, and then smile as he crumpled to the floor, but then that all changed when I found myself running down an alleyway. Instead of him crumpling to the floor at my feet, it was me who went down. He had shot me with a tranquilizer. As I lay there, my mind gloriously blank, I knew that things could, and never will be, the same again.
So here I am, in my new apartment, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with tears threatening to spill over my eyelids. Everything has changed now, and it seams that nothing has a meaning anymore. I lie here, thinking about the man that is not in my bed, but in another woman's bed... a woman who isn't me.
If you asked me if I am afraid of death, I would give you a simple answer... No. In fact, I sometimes wonder if death is better then this hell that I seam to be living.
It was said that I was supposedly dead. It was said that two years ago my charred, broken-down body was found in what remained of my apartment. It was said that the people that I love and cherish enough to call my family and friends had scattered my ashes across the Pacific Ocean. It was also said that the people I love moved on with their lives after dealing with my death. At first I was said to be the cause of great sadness, even near suicides, but then a couple of months later, the people I loved soon put me behind them, making my presents in their minds only a mere memory. Then, many months after the memories had left them, I had become nothing but a shadow, left in the past while they moved on in the present.
I'm still a shadow, and I'm still living in the past.
I'm not dead but I'm not alive either... I'm just in between both.
A/N: Sooooo????? Good? Bad? Let me hear it, all reviews are welcomed. Thanks again guys and I hope you enjoyed!
In Between Both
Death.
It is the one thing in this world that we cannot escape. The one thing that is inevitable no matter how much you fight it. It's rather ironic really, if you had asked me two years ago if death scared me, I would have given you a simple answer... No. Why should I be afraid to die when, no matter what, it's going to happen? Besides, what would it matter if I was scared to die, it's not like I can change the facts of life and live forever. If you asked me today if I was scared of death, I would still give you that very same answer, but that's where the irony comes into play because you see, I am not afraid of death because I had supposedly already died... Now why would I be afraid of something that had already happened? That is what I find even more ironic... I'm supposed to be dead, but here I am... No I don't fear death, but I do fear the after effects of it.
It was said that two years ago my charred, broken-down body was found in what remained of my apartment. It was said that the people that I love and cherish enough to call my family and friends had scattered my ashes across the Pacific Ocean. It was also said that the people I love moved on with their lives after dealing with my death. At first I was said to be the cause of great sadness, even near suicides, but then a couple of months later, the people I loved soon put me behind them, making my presents in their minds only a mere memory. Then, many months after the memories had left them, I had become nothing but a shadow, left in the past while they moved on in the present.
After a while people became accustomed to my death, they had mourned it, dealt with it, and then healed themselves each in their own individual ways. They were accustomed to going to work in the morning everyday to see the empty desk in which I once occupied. They had cried their tears of pain when the time was right or appropriate and they had dealt with the fact that I wasn't coming back. It was what they had come to terms with, what they had counted on... Well what they hadn't counted on was me coming back...
Like I said, I was nothing but a shadow to them anymore, just a lingering presents that was always there, gone, but not forgotten. I had died in the past.... So why was I here in the present, bringing up old feelings and reopening old wounds? At first they didn't believe... at first they didn't want to believe. They had seen my body, spread my ashes... they has buried their daughter, their friend, their lover... they had changed their lives in order to deal with the pain of losing me, so how was it possible for me to be standing before their very eyes?
That's what so funny... I don't know the answer. You see, they all moved on with their lives after believing me dead while I just woke up in a foreign country, the last thing I remember was fighting a person who had the face of my best friend and the heart of a killer. I remember my other best friend, left for dead in my bathtub while I held on for dear life. I remember sitting in my boy friends car, getting butterflies at the thought of spending a weekend with him in Santa Barbara. I remember everything with crystal clear accuracy, after all, it all happened three days ago right? Well, that's where I guess I'm wrong.
From what I've been told, I had been thought dead while really I just went missing. You want to know how long I went missing for... Two years. Two years have been stolen from my memory, lost forever in a never ending game of espionage, cover-ups, and conspiracies. At first I didn't believe what they were telling me... then I didn't want to believe, because not only were two years taken from me, but so was my life.
When I came back, everything was different. I didn't have a home to go home to, my stuff was all destroyed, charred and burnt, tainted by the people that had done this to me. Everything was gone... my books, my clothes, my CD's, my photos... everything. Worse of all, not only was everything different, but everyone was different also. One of my best friends was dead while the other was in witness protection; my father was in jail for, to me, and unjust reason, my co-workers and friends had all either moved away or now look at my as if I were a ghost of my former self. There was only one thing that made me not truly believe that this was happening... My boyfriend, the man I love with all of my heart and soul, the man I cherish more then any object or life itself was taken away from me.... Worse of all... he was given to another.
When he had finally buried my ghost.... The man I love married another woman. Out of all of the things that I have lost, my friends, my family, my home, and my house... he was the one thing that was absolutely priceless to me. I loved him and I still do love him, perhaps that's why it hurts so much. Everyday I go to work I have to see him... and his wife. He was the one who told me you know... he told me, right to my face that I was dead and that I had been so for nearly two year now. He told me about how he and the rest of the world had moved on and left me behind in the dark. He told me that my life was stolen from me, and that there is no way I can ever regain those two years that I had lost.
When I fist woke up in that alley way in Hong Kong, I was dazed and confused. I was also a little afraid, because like I said, the last thing that I remembered was fighting my best friends double. When I went to the safe house and waited, I was so scared for Will, my friend I found in the bathtub. I was delirious, but as soon as my lover Vaughn walked into the room I felt like I was a whole new person. I felt like I could breath again, but I knew, from the moment I threw my arms around him I knew... something was wrong. That's when he said it. That's when he told me everything. The worse part was seeing his shinny gold wedding ring on his left hand. I hated him at that moment. I didn't want to believe in his lies, because that was what they were to me, lies.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and lash out at the first thing that I could get a hold of, just so I could throw it at him, and then smile as he crumpled to the floor, but then that all changed when I found myself running down an alleyway. Instead of him crumpling to the floor at my feet, it was me who went down. He had shot me with a tranquilizer. As I lay there, my mind gloriously blank, I knew that things could, and never will be, the same again.
So here I am, in my new apartment, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with tears threatening to spill over my eyelids. Everything has changed now, and it seams that nothing has a meaning anymore. I lie here, thinking about the man that is not in my bed, but in another woman's bed... a woman who isn't me.
If you asked me if I am afraid of death, I would give you a simple answer... No. In fact, I sometimes wonder if death is better then this hell that I seam to be living.
It was said that I was supposedly dead. It was said that two years ago my charred, broken-down body was found in what remained of my apartment. It was said that the people that I love and cherish enough to call my family and friends had scattered my ashes across the Pacific Ocean. It was also said that the people I love moved on with their lives after dealing with my death. At first I was said to be the cause of great sadness, even near suicides, but then a couple of months later, the people I loved soon put me behind them, making my presents in their minds only a mere memory. Then, many months after the memories had left them, I had become nothing but a shadow, left in the past while they moved on in the present.
I'm still a shadow, and I'm still living in the past.
I'm not dead but I'm not alive either... I'm just in between both.
A/N: Sooooo????? Good? Bad? Let me hear it, all reviews are welcomed. Thanks again guys and I hope you enjoyed!