Hey! Remember this? I know, I know, it's been forever, but with finals and everything that's been happening the past month I haven't really had the motivation or time to work on this. Thankfully school is out, I guess, but I'm going to be busy with work over the summer. Anyway, if anyone catches on to what I'm doing with one of the characters, I can tell you right now I had it in mind before I saw the finale I told you I'd take forever to update :P Thanks for the summary suggestion!

equivalence

It's cold, Sydney thinks three days later as she rubs her arms, pulling her sweater tighter around her. It wouldn't be if I was outside. She wonders if it's always been this drafty here. Staring out the window she wishes for the millionth time she were outside. The dim sunlight warming her skin isn't enough, she wants to soak up the as much heat as possible. Her mind wanders as she watches a couple walk by, pushing a stroller. I wonder-

"Sydney!" A voice cuts through her thoughts, and she snaps back to attention. "I've had my employees killed because they weren't listening to me." Coming from anyone else, those words would have been threatening, but the tinge of affection belies their validity.

"Well then I guess I should be glad I'm not working for you," she replied, offering a faint smile for her mother. "I'm sorry, I was just.. out of it for a moment. I think it should be fine, Dad will make sure everything is in order. You should go." Her heart aches as the word dad falls from her mouth; she misses him.

Irina regarded her daughter with a masked sympathy. While she's happy that she has found a closeness with Sydney again, she's not happy about the circumstances that brought them together. "Are you sure you don't want to come? He misses you very much. I'm sure he'd understand-" She breaks off as Sydney shakes her head. "Alright." There's a silence that comes between them. Sydney's staring out the window again. "Well I guess I should go." No reaction. Starting to walking out the door, Irina hesitates. Looking over her shoulder she sees Sydney watching her.

"How did he take it?" She whispers hoarsely. "Does he still think. . ." Sydney trails off, waiting for her mother's answer. This is the first time she's gotten up the nerve to ask Irina how he'd reacted.

Irina stands in the doorway, unsure how to answer her. "He does. And he's taken it well, considering his track record. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to leave. I'm sure you can find your way out." With that finality, Irina marched out to the car waiting for her.

Left alone in her mother's house, if she didn't include the guards posted in nearly every corner, Sydney contemplated what she should do next. Everything seemed to need careful planning nowadays. Every word, every movement. Otherwise she might become over exposed to those she knew. The feeling of sanctity that had surrounded her recently was not something she trusted, and she was working desperately to keep her guard up.

As safe as she feels though, she isn't happy. Her mother doesn't fill the void in her life, with every passing day it feels as if her solitude only grows. She misses her dad, she misses Weiss, she misses Marshall and Dixon. She misses Vaughn. With ever fiber of her being she misses them. But she can't return to that life, she knows that. They've moved on, she needs to also.

Thinking of her dad made her mind switch over to her mother's current activities. From what Irina had told her, she knew that Jack was looking for her; He was setting up another meeting with Irina, trying to get her to help him. Irina assured Sydney that she'd only give him false leads. He'd never know where she was until she wanted him to know. Sydney didn't know whether or not that was a good thing. For a moment she wonders if this is what he did last time she disappeared. Searching relentlessly for her, driven with an insane motivation.

Sighing, she stands up and looks around her. Her mother's house has become her new safe haven. Her own is too empty, she can hear her footsteps echoing in the halls. She feels too isolated there, even with the masses of furniture adorning the rooms. Eventually, she knows, she'll have to stop coming here so much. She shouldn't be so reliant on something that's bound to fall out of her life. Let's face it, Mom isn't exactly the most dependable person in the world, Sydney thinks, smirking.

"It's a sure sign of insanity when you start laughing at nothing, you know," A voice cuts in from behind her. Sark. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she flinches inwardly with disgust.

"What do you want, Sark?" She asks tiredly, hoping to end this conversation before it gets too far.

"What, can't I simply want the company of a good friend?" He simpers.

"Don't flatter yourself. We're anything but friends. Besides, I didn't think anyone like you had friends," Sydney said in a wry tone.

"Oh I have friends, unlike you, and I'm not in the habit of abandoning them either, also unlike you." Sydney bristled, wanting to give him a thrashing. "Jealous, Miss Bristow?"

"Jealous of what? I'm not in the habit of envying a little British boys." Sark raised his eyebrows.

"A boy perhaps, but a boy with someone to love and be loved by, nonetheless."

"Spare me. A blow up doll doesn't count as a girlfriend. If you'll excuse me, I have places to be," She retorts, pushing past him with a cold stare. As she steps outside his voice wafts to her ears. "She's very real, actually. She'll become more and more real to you as time passes." Frowning, she keeps walking, having no intention to dig herself into a deeper pit of regret from his biting remarks.

---------------

A door slams, jarring him back to reality. Looking up, for a moment he expects to see a head of brown bobbing towards him. Instead he sees the exact opposite. Blonde. His heart falls slightly. Before long, arms encircle his neck as he sat in front of the television, watching a King's game. "Hello, love. I missed you," her voice breathes.

He sits up stiffly and leans back into her. "Hey," he greets her softly. "How was your trip?" Lauren simply leans down to kiss him. They breathe heavily for a moment afterwards, staring into each other's eyes. "I left some dinner on the counter for you." But Lauren shakes her head.

"I don't want to eat Michael. I think we need to talk," she told him in a sickeningly sweet voice. Vaughn swallows hard, expecting these words. She sits down across from him, reaching across the table to grab the remote and turn off the TV. Raising his eyes to hers, he silently waits for Lauren to start.

"Are you going to tell me what we need to talk about? Or am I suppose to start guessing?" He snips, growing impatient as she sits and studies him.

"Don't take that tone with me, Michael," She warns, annoyed. "I think you know we need to talk. How was your day?" She asks simply.

Vaughn snorts. "You tell me we need to talk and then you ask me how my day is? I hardly think this constitutes as a serious talk."

"We haven't really talked to each other in a long time, and you know that," Lauren spits at him, tossing her head with an air of condescension.

"Well, as far as I can remember we were talking to each other this afternoon, and I think we've been talking to each for the past few years. That is, if my memory serves me right," he retorts. Where is she going with this? He wonders, confused. This is just going to cause another argument, and that's beginning to become too much of a trend lately. He sighs.

"You know what I mean," she snaps. " Yes, we talked this afternoon, but that was about a damn mission! That's all we ever talk about anymore! Ever since that night you went out looking for Sydney you've become withdrawn from me, you don't talk to me, you don't tell me anything. It's as if we're complete strangers. This was starting to happen even before that. Ever since she came back, you started closing me out of your life!"

"This has nothing to do with Sydney!" He explodes. "Why do you keep bringing her up? Sydney is gone, she's not a part of our problems. You can't blame our troubles on something that's in the past!"

Lauren took in a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her anger before she did something she'd regret. "Damn it Michael, I'm trying to make this work. You're too attached to her for your own good, she's gone for goodness sakes! You said it yourself! Why must you keep obsessing over it?"

"Sydney and I had a past-" He started.

"Yes, thank you, you've pointed that out many times. But that fails to explain why you spend nearly every waking moment looking for her!" Lauren said, interjecting.

"-And you can't expect me to just let go of someone I love without a fight!" Lauren stared, wide eyed, at him. "Loved," he corrected himself hastily. "Loved."

Her eyes narrowed, and she stood up. "I think you have some feelings you need to work through," she spat, "and I think I'm going to spend some time at my parents' place."

"Lauren, let me explain," he pleaded, not wanting to end this on such a bad note. He stood up too, hoping to reach out and calm her. Hoping that by getting a handle on her, he could get a handle on his marriage. To stop them both from falling apart.

"No, don't bother. I'm going to make this very clear to you. You obviously still have some deep feelings left for Sydney, but I am your wife. It's either her, or it's me. Until you figure out who it is you want, I'll be in Virginia." She fumed, knowing she was walking on a thin line, but she suddenly didn't care. She would not be second to anyone, especially Sydney Bristow. Her mission might be cut short because of her present actions, but she would not live a moment longer in someone else's shadow.

Vaughn frowned, incredulous at his wife's demand. "You're asking me to make a choice between the two of you? How is that fair?"

"I'm not asking you to. I'm telling you to. Or else I'll make the decision for you. And if you really didn't feel anything for Sydney anymore, this wouldn't seem so unfair to you. If you love me, as you claim to, than you would easily be able to pick me. Obviously, this isn't the case. So figure out who it is you want, and let me know." With that, Lauren stormed out the door to the car, leaving a whirlwind behind her.

Shocked, Vaughn stood rooted to the same spot for hours. He was afraid to take a step in one direction, in fear that it would be the wrong one. It was as simple as that. Right foot, left foot. Lauren, Sydney. Which was why he suddenly had the desire to cut off his feet.

---------------

Jack stood by the railing of the pier, watching the waves crash angrily against the shore. The very same waves that had kept Sydney company one night, so many months ago. When Sydney had called, he'd been in a meeting at the Ops center, conferring with Dixon and the NSA on a newly discovered Rambaldi manuscript. The manuscript held the promise of another frantic search and race to claim it before another agency did. This manuscript further foretold the destiny of The Chosen One. With all his power, Jack had been rebelling against deciphering the book, afraid of what it could hold in store for Sydney, should she still be alive.

But that was irrelevant now. The manuscript was now in their possession, being decoded as he waited. What mattered was finding Sydney. Finding her and bringing her back to fulfill his- His thoughts stopped as he caught a glimpse of a shadow behind him. Turning around, he faced Irina.

"You're losing you're touch, Irina," he smirked knowingly.

"Perhaps," she answered, a hint of a smile in her voice. "Or perhaps I wanted you to see me." She looked at him with concern. He seemed older somehow. Not just because he was older. But there were times earlier when he seemed younger than his real age. Now a weight seemed to settle upon his shoulders, a bleak and sad look had entered his eyes, visible whenever his guard was down and the mask had slipped off. He shuffled more often, his strides less certain. Losing Sydney had done more to him than either Irina or Jack was willing to admit. "Are you alright?"

Jack nodded his head distractedly, gazing back out at the ocean for a moment. "Did you find anything?" He asked, getting down to the purpose of their meeting.

---------------

She never thought of herself as a selfish person. Sure, there were things she longed for, things she wished she could have, but she never complained about it. Never thought about why "the world was against her" or "why it had to happen to me". She always considered herself a fairly reasonable person. At least, until now. Sitting alone in her house once more, she can't help but think these things over and over again. One after the other these roll through her head. Why? She can't answer it. Nor can her mother. Nor her father. No one seems to have the answers.

Maybe it did make her seem too self-absorbed. Maybe it made her seem a like a narcissist. But for once, in a long time, she simply didn't care. For too long the world had turned its back on Sydney. That fact alone entitles me to a little time to spend on myself, doesn't it? What about all the other things, too? Maybe it's time for me to focus on myself and not everything else. Or maybe I've been doing that too much already? In all honesty, in the past few minutes she's gone from feeling bad, to worse.

Sark's comments over the past few years have done nothing to quell the guilt that engulfs her. If anything, these comments, the double meanings, the seemingly innocent gestures only fuel her regret to a greater capacity. Time can't heal all wounds if you pick at them. And they can't. It's been so long, Too long, she realizes, since she'd had any hint of normalcy in her life.

She had no friends. They had wasted all but wasted away in front of her, wilting like a flower during a midnight winter storm. Her enemies came in the hundreds. She wouldn't be surprised if there was a price on her head by now. Her mother.. is anything but ordinary. For her parents, though she loves them dearly, normal is hardly connotation to describe them with. Though what is normalcy, except how we perceive it to be?

Sitting here, on her bed, feeling a bit nostalgic, a frostiness seeps through her body. It's cold, she thinks. Inside, it seems, as well as out.