Title: Another Reality
Author: Typically Chugging Tea
Rating: PG-13 (Violence and Langauge)
Ship: S/Sa
Summer: When Life gets to hectic for Sydney Bristow, she wishes she can escape. With help from Sark, Sydney gets what she wishes for and so much more.
Authors Note: It may seem like S/V or even S/D but trust me it will eventually be S/Sa. This is just a prologue, I want to see how many people are interested in this story. Thank you.
01// Prologue
Silence.
Sydney craved it sometimes when her schedule would get hectic. More and more everyday she found it harder to escape. The constant meetings and debriefing would get to her quickly. What could she say? Nothing. Nobody would listen to her if she did say anything, only if it was important. Of course there was always Vaughn. Her support, her reason to go on missions, he was the voice in her head telling her to do the right thing but who knows whats right these days? Vaughn does, of course.
Don't get her wrong. She loved Vaughn but whenever the moment comes to say the actual words to him. They would dissolve on her tongue and slowly slide down to the pit of her stomach. Since Danny's death, she's had difficulty saying these words to anyone besides Vaughn; it also included Francie and Will. She felt that it would be some type of betrayal in her part against Danny. She could never do that. Yes, she was sleeping with another man. It was more of a comfort to Sydney: Being able to wake up in a pair of strong arms embracing her and pretending, even just for a moment, that those arms belonged to Danny.
Today seemed more difficult then usual. Her head pounded as people talk in her ear, giving her instructions, asking about her most recent trip to Rome, or Kendall barking orders at her. Vaughn gave her a comforting looks or a gentle squeeze of the hands. It didn't seem enough today. As soon as the clock struck 5, she was out of there. She didn't say goodbye to Will, Vaughn, or Marshall. She needed to escape.
She drove somewhere she had never been before and parked. She walked the cold, dark streets of downtown LA for a while, watching ordinary civilians carry on with their lives. They were oblivious to the danger they were in, the same danger Sydney was saving them from. She didn't know where she was going but she didn't care. She took random turns, some leading to other streets others leading to ally ways. The cold December wind whipped against her face as she quickly walked. From another point of view she looked like she was in a hurry somewhere when in fact she was in a hurry to nowhere.
She found herself in an art gallery, one she had never been in before. Unknown to many people, Sydney enjoyed art quite thoroughly. Whether it is one of Gentileschi's pieces or something from Joan Miró 's gallery, she didn't care. They were just names to her. Art spoke for itself, whether it's an outcry of love or a scream of pain. It grabbed her soul until its message was through and then she stepped over to the next one in line where it would repeat the process. The art gallery was very empty; she did pass a few beatniks on their way out, discussing a Frederick Leighton piece. Sydney finally had complete silence that swooned her yet lulled her at the same time. She sat on a white bench in the center of one room and in, in a way, let the pictures speak to her. She allowed them to tell her stories about far off lands. A soft clicking of shoes soon interrupted them. Soon Vaughn sat next to her, not looking at her, but looking around.
"Hey." He said, his voice was leveled yet soft.
"Hi," Sydney replied, her voice sounding small, "How did you find me?"
"I have my ways," he told her. She didn't have to look at him to tell he was grinning, "Actually I looked, I went to your house of course but I didn't see your care parked. Then I went to Francie's restaurant but she told me she hasn't seen you since this morning. I remembered you like train stations but of course you weren't there. Then I remember your new favorite place to hid was art galleries," she wanted to retort, saying she's always loved art galleries but kept her mouth firmly shut and continued to stare ahead, "I saw your car parked down the street and found this place. As I was walking here I remembered something. I don't know why you come to art galleries. Why do you like places like this?"
She broke her eye contact with the picture in front of her and looked at him. His vivid green eyes were filled with concern, his 5 o'clock shadow seemed scruffier in the shinning studio lights and his mouth seemed like he was holding back something. He looked at her and she got the full effect of his facial expression. He was genuinely worried about her. His eyes seemed to seer holes in her but she continued to keep her eye contact. For a few more moments and looked away, shrugging her shoulders.
"I guess, sometimes I need to escape into somebody else's reality." She told him, her voice dignified and strong. He responded by wrapping her arms around her and eased her off the bench. She welcomed the touch.
"Come on, let's go home." He said, giving her a soft squeeze as they walked towards the front. Sydney snuggled closer to him as they walked back out to the brisk cold. What she craved now was love and warmth.
Author: Typically Chugging Tea
Rating: PG-13 (Violence and Langauge)
Ship: S/Sa
Summer: When Life gets to hectic for Sydney Bristow, she wishes she can escape. With help from Sark, Sydney gets what she wishes for and so much more.
Authors Note: It may seem like S/V or even S/D but trust me it will eventually be S/Sa. This is just a prologue, I want to see how many people are interested in this story. Thank you.
01// Prologue
Silence.
Sydney craved it sometimes when her schedule would get hectic. More and more everyday she found it harder to escape. The constant meetings and debriefing would get to her quickly. What could she say? Nothing. Nobody would listen to her if she did say anything, only if it was important. Of course there was always Vaughn. Her support, her reason to go on missions, he was the voice in her head telling her to do the right thing but who knows whats right these days? Vaughn does, of course.
Don't get her wrong. She loved Vaughn but whenever the moment comes to say the actual words to him. They would dissolve on her tongue and slowly slide down to the pit of her stomach. Since Danny's death, she's had difficulty saying these words to anyone besides Vaughn; it also included Francie and Will. She felt that it would be some type of betrayal in her part against Danny. She could never do that. Yes, she was sleeping with another man. It was more of a comfort to Sydney: Being able to wake up in a pair of strong arms embracing her and pretending, even just for a moment, that those arms belonged to Danny.
Today seemed more difficult then usual. Her head pounded as people talk in her ear, giving her instructions, asking about her most recent trip to Rome, or Kendall barking orders at her. Vaughn gave her a comforting looks or a gentle squeeze of the hands. It didn't seem enough today. As soon as the clock struck 5, she was out of there. She didn't say goodbye to Will, Vaughn, or Marshall. She needed to escape.
She drove somewhere she had never been before and parked. She walked the cold, dark streets of downtown LA for a while, watching ordinary civilians carry on with their lives. They were oblivious to the danger they were in, the same danger Sydney was saving them from. She didn't know where she was going but she didn't care. She took random turns, some leading to other streets others leading to ally ways. The cold December wind whipped against her face as she quickly walked. From another point of view she looked like she was in a hurry somewhere when in fact she was in a hurry to nowhere.
She found herself in an art gallery, one she had never been in before. Unknown to many people, Sydney enjoyed art quite thoroughly. Whether it is one of Gentileschi's pieces or something from Joan Miró 's gallery, she didn't care. They were just names to her. Art spoke for itself, whether it's an outcry of love or a scream of pain. It grabbed her soul until its message was through and then she stepped over to the next one in line where it would repeat the process. The art gallery was very empty; she did pass a few beatniks on their way out, discussing a Frederick Leighton piece. Sydney finally had complete silence that swooned her yet lulled her at the same time. She sat on a white bench in the center of one room and in, in a way, let the pictures speak to her. She allowed them to tell her stories about far off lands. A soft clicking of shoes soon interrupted them. Soon Vaughn sat next to her, not looking at her, but looking around.
"Hey." He said, his voice was leveled yet soft.
"Hi," Sydney replied, her voice sounding small, "How did you find me?"
"I have my ways," he told her. She didn't have to look at him to tell he was grinning, "Actually I looked, I went to your house of course but I didn't see your care parked. Then I went to Francie's restaurant but she told me she hasn't seen you since this morning. I remembered you like train stations but of course you weren't there. Then I remember your new favorite place to hid was art galleries," she wanted to retort, saying she's always loved art galleries but kept her mouth firmly shut and continued to stare ahead, "I saw your car parked down the street and found this place. As I was walking here I remembered something. I don't know why you come to art galleries. Why do you like places like this?"
She broke her eye contact with the picture in front of her and looked at him. His vivid green eyes were filled with concern, his 5 o'clock shadow seemed scruffier in the shinning studio lights and his mouth seemed like he was holding back something. He looked at her and she got the full effect of his facial expression. He was genuinely worried about her. His eyes seemed to seer holes in her but she continued to keep her eye contact. For a few more moments and looked away, shrugging her shoulders.
"I guess, sometimes I need to escape into somebody else's reality." She told him, her voice dignified and strong. He responded by wrapping her arms around her and eased her off the bench. She welcomed the touch.
"Come on, let's go home." He said, giving her a soft squeeze as they walked towards the front. Sydney snuggled closer to him as they walked back out to the brisk cold. What she craved now was love and warmth.