Title: Different [9/10]

Author's Notes: This part was even harder to write then the one before it. That said, in the end it exceeded all my expectations. I hope you all agree with me.

9

I couldn't stay there any more. The silence was killing me and I couldn't withstand seeing his angry and hurt face. I knew that's what would happen and I couldn't take that. So I left; I don't know where to go or what to do, but I had to leave.

I'm at the beach and trying to calm myself down. It's not working very well because all I can think of are the memories of I have of the beach: of happy and fun filled times, with Colin. I can't stay here, so I leave once again and head to my car. I sit here in my car, thinking of what to do, where I could go. I was thinking about going to the office. But I know that Weiss is out of town, I really would have to work if I went in without him. So ... think of places I used to go to, before. The first thing to come to my mind is the observatory, and then in natural progression comes the pier and then the train station. Of course, I start to cry, right there at my steering wheel. Images and memories, feelings and wishes come back fresh and I'm miserable.

Look what this life has done to me—I've lost everything I've ever had, or ever wanted. I had happiness and it's been taken from me, time and time again. Before, it wasn't with a conscious effort that I ruined things, it was always a byproduct. But now, it's all on me—there's no excuse from someone else.

Truth list: 20. Given the chance, rethink your decision about possibly becoming a spy—once you're in its too late.

I may have cried and brewed the entire day if the forceful honking of the car behind me hadn't started. Some idiot is honking, over and over, and isn't being exactly nice over anything. So I pull out and start driving, away from the beach.

Out of places to go, I start taking whatever streets look good—places I haven't necessarily been to before, roads I know wouldn't have lots of traffic: wherever the wind takes me. I drive past parks, homes, schools, companies, restaurants, parking lots, malls, even a hospital—I think. I'm paying just enough attention to drive safely and without incident, but not enough to really remember where I am. I do know that I had a full tank before I left and now my gas tank is almost empty. I do know that the entire day I didn't hear anything but the wind, birds, traffic, and car horns.

The day passes by, the afternoon comes and goes, and night has more then just approached, it is here. Something about the way I could hear the night—the crickets chirping—makes me come back to life. I'm starting the journey back home but as the sights get more familiar and I get closer, I don't feel like I'm actually going home—I may recognize the sights but they feel as unfamiliar as they did the day I moved in.

I can hardly believe it, but before I've realized what I've done, I'm almost at Colin's house. I lived the day almost out of my body—I was there but not in control or focused. Once I reach Colin's house, see the familiar front and hear the bark of Casey out in the back yard, I feel in control again. I know where I am, I know why I am here, and I know what I am going to do. I am going to take back control of my life. I am going to take things into my own hands, make things right.

Taking the key I've had and rarely had to use—his door has always been open, for me—I step into the entrance way. This is my home. This is where I've felt safe and comfortable and loved and happy. This is where I want to be.

"Colin!" I cry, hoping it would echo throughout the house. Instead of an answering yell I hear a startled cry and the clutter of something falling onto the tiled floor. My fear is rising by the second—first fearing his anger and now his safety—I run to the living room. It's not exactly reassuring, but he's alive and not screaming, for now.

He's in a stiff position on the couch, the yellow page books open and strewn around the room, and the phone having, apparently, dropped from his grip. He blinks a few times as he focuses his vision on me. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know I can't run away, not this time.

"Syd" he cries, jumping up off the couch and projecting me into his arms—into a fierce hug. He keeps his grip on, adjusting my head into the crook of his neck. When he moves, he only moves to hold me tighter, closer.

The silence goes on, but this is a silence I'm not afraid of. I can tell by our embrace, he's clinging to me—things will be alright, eventually. "Col," I tell him, reassuringly.

"Oh god, Syd," he murmurs. He lets out a shaky breath and grips me even tighter. "I couldn't ... I didn't know ...," his voice crakes as he tries to get out what he wants to say. He takes another deep breath and finally says, "Don't ever do that again, okay. I didn't know where you were. Before I could even gather my thoughts you had run away from me, crying." He still won't let me go, but he looks into my eyes.

I can only meet his gaze for a moment, but it grows too much for me. There are things that need to be said, words and actions that need to be explained—there's too much for me to be completely open and free right now. He moves his arms away from encircling me, brining his arm over me, still clutching me tight. He moves us over to the couch and I'm against him, looking at the scene around us.

"I didn't know where you were. I called your house. I called your cell. I called your office. I drove to your house. I drove back here. I went to the beach. I called your cell a thousand times. I finally came back home—I was beside myself. I took out the phone books; I called all the hospitals even remotely close. I kept the phone clutched in my hands, hoping you'd call. I paced around the house—trying to think of everything that had happened. Everything happened all at once I tried to think if I'd missed something that would lead me to you. When I couldn't think of anything I called everyone, again. I went to your house, the beach, back home. Over and over I called and drove.

"This—today was one of the worst things I've ever gone through—worried and afraid and upset. Syd, you have no idea. I don't care ... whatever you've done, whatever you haven't done—Syd, you could have been anything and I wouldn't have cared. You could have been a former prostitute, a retired Carney, a ... you could have been a man before and it wouldn't matter, Syd." He's been so sincere, so intense—but the last possibility made me giggle a little. He gives me a look and I stop. "Okay, maybe you having been a man before would have mattered, but everything else ... anything else wouldn't."

He looks at me and I get lost in his eyes. Suddenly I remember that I was supposed to be taking charge of things. "I'm so sorry Col—I can't say that enough. I ... so much has happened in my life. Every time I find happiness it gets taken away from me—it gets destroyed. I was afraid to tell you everything, fearing that I'd loose you too. I didn't want to lie or keep things from you. But I just ... if you knew everything, I didn't think I'd be able to – I knew things wouldn't be the same."

"What hurt me," he says, looking at me, "what really hurt me wasn't any kind of past you've had. Not whom you've been, who you've been with, why you didn't know any better—none of that. It was that you kept it from me, and didn't give me a chance to even respond. I know you've had a rough life, I can't even begin to think—I know so little." He's so considerate, caring, and understanding. But the anger—or is it frustration?—is still there and I can see it rising in him. "But that you thought so little of me, that you doubted me—you may be one super strong girl, but I'm a tough guy too, Syd. I can handle things for the both of us if need be. I like taking care of you, I like helping you. I like it when you need me. I love it when you don't, but it makes me feel ... I need to be able to talk to you, see you to fix things when they're not right."

Truth list: 21. Don't run away—it only makes things worse.

Looking over at him, I see his strength, but I also see his pain. "I know I shouldn't have run," I admit, looking into his eyes. "I know I should have trusted you—I do, I just ... I still have some bad demons haunting me. You know what they say: old habits die hard."

He doesn't say anything for a second. I see the glimmer in his eyes start to come back. There's strength and there's still muted pain, but there's that beautiful fleck of gold again—passion, love. "I'm madly and passionately in love with you Sydney. If you give me a chance I'll let you know that every day, over and over."

Seeing that glimmer, that glint, flashing in his eyes I can't help but hope the same is in my eyes. Pulling him to me, I breathe against his lips, "If you can put up with me."

tbc