A/N: Here's the last chapter for now, at least. Hope you like it, Agent Flamingo. ;)

A Life in Transition (2/2)

She wanted to disappear. So, she did. Because Sydney Bristow no longer existed... maybe she never had. She continued to call herself Sydney Bristow for only as long as it took her to board the first plane. Then, Sydney Bristow became Elizabeth Carmichael, who then became Monique Francon, who then became a few other people who only existed so that the airline employees could read her passport, look up and smile at her, and wish her a good flight.

She was running, and she knew it. She was fleeing from her country, her duty, her family... or what was left of it, herself... or who she had been. She was fleeing from love and the pain that inevitably accompanied it, from seeing him with his wife in every corner, flirting or not, from the kisses, the caresses, the hushed tones he once used only with her. She fled until the memories of being with him haunted only her dreams, instead of her every waking thought, until his voice was no more than a whisper in her subconscious, until the mere thought of his touch no longer left her skin tingling. She fled until she was sure that her home had turned its back on her just as she had turned her back on it. She fled until she knew that Sydney Bristow truly was no more. She couldn't be Sydney Bristow because Sydney Bristow never fled. Sydney Bristow fought. And whoever she was now, was done fighting.

She slept little because she dreamt of him. Every night, always of him. She dreamt of dark warehouses, of Kings pens. She dreamt of sunny rooftops, of bad jokes. She dreamt of uneaten dinners, of loving him. And always she woke alone, the sheets cold and the pillow untouched on the other side of the bed. She hated how her mind had decided to taunt her with what she once had, with what she knew she would never have again. Because the love was still there, and it still hurt more than any other emotional wound she had experienced. It was so painful that she couldn't stay even for him, she couldn't ask him to come with her. She knew that he would have followed her to the ends of the earth at a second's notice, but she had reached a depth deeper and darker and more torturous than she could have imagined hell to be, and she couldn't bring herself to drag him down with her. She knew that he was still smarting from the wounds his wife had inflicted upon him, that perhaps he always would be, and she couldn't unload anything more onto him. But she hated herself for leaving him, for letting him suffer alone, for not being there for him when he needed her the most, for not being his guardian angel. She would never forgive herself. But it was too late to turn back now. And some things had to be done alone. That, she knew already, but he still had to learn.


She stood barefoot and wriggled her toes in the warm sand. The setting sun cast a muted orange glow upon everything in its path, so unlike anything she had seen anywhere else. She felt the wind in her hair, and closed her eyes as she breathed in the ocean air, and felt free for the first time since she could remember. Because after six years of innocent, childish happiness, over twenty years of fighting, and three months of running, she had finally taken back the life that was stolen from her. And this time, nothing was going to stop her from molding it in her own fashion.

She heard the waves crashing lightly, so softly that they were almost lapping at the shore. Just like that calm night at the pier when she relinquished her pager to the Pacific and her heart to her handler... She quickly opened her eyes and shook her head to clear the thoughts. Night hadn't quite fallen yet, and she couldn't let her thoughts stray to him until it did. Not until the moon and the stars shone the only light upon the notion that Sydney Bristow ever existed. Not until the image of him that still followed her everywhere could uncover itself from the shadows cast by daylight and illuminate her dark, little house and her small, empty dock that transformed itself into a long pier with a railing and a ferris wheel glittering in the water before it, also under the cover of night. Not until she allowed sleep to claim her and let herself dream that he would come for her again.

She felt the sand cooling under her feet and the wind pick up slightly as it always did before night fell. The air was still warm, but she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered as she watched the first stars appear in the purpling sky and let herself believe for a moment that there was nothing in the world besides her and the island. There was no past of Slush-O machines, of car washes, of golf courses, of train stations. There was no future of weekend vacations, of quiet evenings spent entirely at home in bed in his arms, of mornings after. There was no time in between of separation, of awkward moments, of traitorous wives. She had broken off of the continent... she was an island, entire of itself.

She watched the moon rise and the other stars glitter just like his eyes, and she shivered again when the wind felt like his warm skin on hers. Visions of him were already returning. She sighed resignedly as she turned to go inside, knowing that her nights were destined to be prisoner to thoughts of him forever.


She was roused by a loud clap of thunder, and lightning flashed just as she opened her eyes startling her. The shutters in living room were banging loudly against the window, propelled by an angry wind that was determinged to shake her house to the ground. She got up quickly, and tried to turn on the lamp near her bed, but she found that the lightning had knocked the power out. She cautiously got out of bed and threw a light robe around her and made her way slowly to the next room.

Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the way to the open window. She pulled her robe tighter around her as she moved to close the window, the cold, wet wind biting through the thin material. A single glance outside made her gasp in surprise. Someone was out there...

She could see the dark figure standing motionless before her porch, facing the door. Momentarily, she thought that one of the children had come once again to play a trick on her, but she dismissed that theory in the next instant. The children whom she taught in the nearby secondary school had taken great pleasure in visiting her to play jokes ever since she had moved here, but for the last month, they had left her alone. The only reason for this that she could garner from them was, "We saw a green-eyed ghost watching over you. Every night, it comes closer to your house." Now she wondered if she had caught her green-eyed ghost in the act.

Indeed, it seemed content to watch over her door, even under all of heaven's fury. In the few minutes she had spent studying the mysterious figure, it had not moved at all, not even to take shelter from the storm under the awning over her porch. But now that she had taken the time to look closer at it, she could see its shoulders slumped and its head hanging low as if it were very weary and the act of just standing and watching her house was taking all of its energy. The falling rain seemed to distort its image, making it shimmer in an appearance very much like a ghost. She squinted through the glass as she pulled the window shutters closed in an attempt to better see the figure. Because of the noise of her closing the window, or because of the lack of noise now that the window was closed... whatever the reason, the figure suddenly lifted its head in the direction of the window and she knew that it had seen her.

She gasped again and ducked from its view, but then laughed and cursed at herself for believing her students' ghost story. She straightened and walked to the door, intent on finding out just who this ghost was, but jumped back at the sound of a knock. Something... someone was knocking on her door... Someone was knocking on her door? On her door to her little house on an island in the middle of the Pacific at this time at night while at the mercy of a thunderstorm? If she had concluded anything from this night so far, it was this: whoever was out there was insane.

She pulled the door open cautiously, squinting to see anything through the blackness, but lightning flashed again, and she saw him. It was only for an instant, and she thought that her eyes were fooling her, but then she knew that it could have only been him. At her door to her little house on an island in the middle of the Pacific at this time at night while at the mercy of a thunderstorm, only he would be insane enough to be here.

"You're here." She could have sworn that she had whispered, but the words had seemed to clearly carry over the falling rain, the rumbling thunder, even the pounding of her heart, which she was certain was deafening.

"I'm here," she heard his answer just as clearly in that voice she could never forget.

Still trying to believe her eyes and ears, she continued slowly, "You're here... in this weather... and you... knocked?"

He answered like it was the most natural, logical response in the world. "I had to know. I had to know that there was nothing in the way of you letting me in... that there was nothing in the way of you wanting to let me in."

She nodded in understanding, though she doubted that he could see her. It didn't matter. He knew she would understand.

In the next flash of lightning, she saw that he looked just as she remembered him, but she was sure that his eyes had never been greener. She could feel them moving over her form even through the darkness. What she didn't yet know was the weariness of two years of searching and chasing that now resided in them, that they made him look older now, that he had changed. But she would learn.

"I can't believe you found me," she murmured. She couldn't see him when he answered this time, but she knew that his eyes glittered just like the stars as he spoke.

"Didn't you know? We always find each other."

This was too perfect. This couldn't be real. She had to be dreaming again. But when she felt his hand on her cheek, all of her doubt washed away in the rain. She leaned into his touch as he began the feather-light stroking that could only come from him, and she felt like not a second had passed since she had last been in his arms.

"I missed you so much, Syd—"

She stiffened against his touch at the sound of that name, and he pulled his hand away, startled.

She spoke in a low, urgent tone. "I'm not her anymore."

He sighed, and she could sense he nodded. "Maybe that's why it took me so long to find you. I was chasing someone who didn't exist. For a second, I thought that maybe you were still her, and I was still 'Vaughn.' But, I don't think I've been him since you died."

It was her turn to nod once more. "We both need to start over again. Together, this time."

She felt his hand against her face again, and she pulled it into her own, smiling, "We can start tomorrow. Come inside now. You're all wet."


She was done running. He was done chasing. They had found each other. That was enough for the night.

They could live tomorrow.