Title: Payback
Author: Me! (Cai)
Ship: Syd/Vaughn
Summary: Takes place in Season 3. Sydney's reached her breaking point and she wants payback.
Disclaimer: I own nothing… Yadda yadda yadda.
A/N: Payback's a b****. And so is Lauren. So as anyone would, I took the opportunity to kill her when I could! So this is my entry for the Death Fic contest… Enjoy. Hopefully.
<span style='font-size:13pt;line-height:100%'>
She's being selfish, but she doesn't care. She shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong. But she's a mile past the line separating morality and immorality, and she no longer gives a damn.
They are the epitome of perfection.
They were the epitome of perfection, she corrects herself. But they no longer are, and she was to blame. This was her payback.
She doesn't pause to think what good could possibly come out of this. Doesn't think, just acts. Actions speak stronger than the power of words do right now, and her sense of dignity won't allow her to stoop to the level of b****y catfights with her lover's wife.
Ex-lover, she corrects herself. He was no longer hers, just as she was no longer his. Tonight was the night she'd reclaim him as her own.
She drives in a drunken stupor, cutting through the late-hour traffic of Los Angeles like wild fire. It's well past eleven at night, but she doesn't try and stop herself. Her heart has a mind of it's own; nothing can stop her tonight. She has her mind set on what she has come for, and fully intends to get it.
The tears stain her cheeks; a visible, but temporary mark of the pain they've caused her. Vaughn and Lauren both. But as hard as she tries, she's unable to direct her anger towards him, so it all comes crashing down upon Lauren.
Lauren. Her tongue spits out the name with unrelenting ferocity, her mind reels with disgust. She was the woman who robbed her of all she had ever lived for. Every waking moment, it was all for him. She lived, she breathed; he was the reason she fought. She stole that from her. She stole that from her with a petty flick of her pretty blonde hair, a carefully placed touch with her delicate fingers on skin that she had once claimed as her own.
And he had succumbed. However reluctantly he and she both try to convince themselves, he still succumbed to her seduction. Michael Vaughn is weak, her mind spits, but her heart fights off any negativity her mind presents. Her death was what weakened him, brought him to his knees and to his breaking point.
Now it's her turn, because she too, has reached her breaking point, and there is no turning back.
She takes a wild turn, ignorant to the assault of honking horns and shouts of profanity she receives. Her mind is set, and she'll get what she wants under any costs.
It's all the same to her.
Every intersection, every mission, every risk. It's all the same. She always manages to escape death with only a minor graze, and this she takes for granted. It's become all too easy for her, and she yearns for a distraction. Something worth putting her mind to, to take away the pain that has taken a permanent residency in her being. But she finds none.
So she's setting herself one.
She's giving herself something to do, some form of a purpose that will serve as the fuel to get her up each and every day.
The fuel he once provided her.
~
Any day now. Any day now, it'll be okay. She'll make things okay for the both of them. She takes it upon herself to do so. If he won't do so, she will.
Half an hour of mindlessly threading her way through the streets brings her to a stop outside a block of small, homely townhouses. They're almost identical, lined up neatly beside one another in an orderly, well-kept fashion, and she smiles in a mockery of their attempt at symmetric lives; every day people with their every day jobs.
But they're not every day people.
It's child's play, she makes herself believe, as she exited the car and crossed the street in a haze. The bright orange pyramid block was never made to fit into the space for the cube. It didn't fit. But they fit. Vaughn and Sydney. Sydney and Vaughn. One was the equivalent of the other. She laughed aloud as she stopped outside their home, struggling a little under the influence of alcohol to stand upright. Lauren was delusional to think they would ever work...
She stumbles her way across their immaculate front lawn to their doorstep, fingers fumbling for the doorbell. The overly cheerful chime of the doorbell reverberates throughout the house, as she impatiently waits for the door to be answers.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds pass, and she's frustrated, her hand reaching up to assault the doorbell. She can hear the sound of rushed footsteps moments later, and the door flings open within a matter of seconds.
"Syd?"
He stares at her with surprise, yet she offers him a smile like this is nothing out of the ordinary. But hell, in their position, when is anything not lacking normality?
"What are you-" He's able to stammer, before the wife appears behind him, draping her arms around his neck like the *h**e she is.
She takes aim.
She's reached her breaking point, and this was her payback.
The End
aranoid:
Word count: 854
Author: Me! (Cai)
Ship: Syd/Vaughn
Summary: Takes place in Season 3. Sydney's reached her breaking point and she wants payback.
Disclaimer: I own nothing… Yadda yadda yadda.
A/N: Payback's a b****. And so is Lauren. So as anyone would, I took the opportunity to kill her when I could! So this is my entry for the Death Fic contest… Enjoy. Hopefully.
<span style='font-size:13pt;line-height:100%'>
Payback
</span>She's being selfish, but she doesn't care. She shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong. But she's a mile past the line separating morality and immorality, and she no longer gives a damn.
They are the epitome of perfection.
They were the epitome of perfection, she corrects herself. But they no longer are, and she was to blame. This was her payback.
She doesn't pause to think what good could possibly come out of this. Doesn't think, just acts. Actions speak stronger than the power of words do right now, and her sense of dignity won't allow her to stoop to the level of b****y catfights with her lover's wife.
Ex-lover, she corrects herself. He was no longer hers, just as she was no longer his. Tonight was the night she'd reclaim him as her own.
She drives in a drunken stupor, cutting through the late-hour traffic of Los Angeles like wild fire. It's well past eleven at night, but she doesn't try and stop herself. Her heart has a mind of it's own; nothing can stop her tonight. She has her mind set on what she has come for, and fully intends to get it.
The tears stain her cheeks; a visible, but temporary mark of the pain they've caused her. Vaughn and Lauren both. But as hard as she tries, she's unable to direct her anger towards him, so it all comes crashing down upon Lauren.
Lauren. Her tongue spits out the name with unrelenting ferocity, her mind reels with disgust. She was the woman who robbed her of all she had ever lived for. Every waking moment, it was all for him. She lived, she breathed; he was the reason she fought. She stole that from her. She stole that from her with a petty flick of her pretty blonde hair, a carefully placed touch with her delicate fingers on skin that she had once claimed as her own.
And he had succumbed. However reluctantly he and she both try to convince themselves, he still succumbed to her seduction. Michael Vaughn is weak, her mind spits, but her heart fights off any negativity her mind presents. Her death was what weakened him, brought him to his knees and to his breaking point.
Now it's her turn, because she too, has reached her breaking point, and there is no turning back.
She takes a wild turn, ignorant to the assault of honking horns and shouts of profanity she receives. Her mind is set, and she'll get what she wants under any costs.
It's all the same to her.
Every intersection, every mission, every risk. It's all the same. She always manages to escape death with only a minor graze, and this she takes for granted. It's become all too easy for her, and she yearns for a distraction. Something worth putting her mind to, to take away the pain that has taken a permanent residency in her being. But she finds none.
So she's setting herself one.
She's giving herself something to do, some form of a purpose that will serve as the fuel to get her up each and every day.
The fuel he once provided her.
~
Any day now. Any day now, it'll be okay. She'll make things okay for the both of them. She takes it upon herself to do so. If he won't do so, she will.
Half an hour of mindlessly threading her way through the streets brings her to a stop outside a block of small, homely townhouses. They're almost identical, lined up neatly beside one another in an orderly, well-kept fashion, and she smiles in a mockery of their attempt at symmetric lives; every day people with their every day jobs.
But they're not every day people.
It's child's play, she makes herself believe, as she exited the car and crossed the street in a haze. The bright orange pyramid block was never made to fit into the space for the cube. It didn't fit. But they fit. Vaughn and Sydney. Sydney and Vaughn. One was the equivalent of the other. She laughed aloud as she stopped outside their home, struggling a little under the influence of alcohol to stand upright. Lauren was delusional to think they would ever work...
She stumbles her way across their immaculate front lawn to their doorstep, fingers fumbling for the doorbell. The overly cheerful chime of the doorbell reverberates throughout the house, as she impatiently waits for the door to be answers.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds pass, and she's frustrated, her hand reaching up to assault the doorbell. She can hear the sound of rushed footsteps moments later, and the door flings open within a matter of seconds.
"Syd?"
He stares at her with surprise, yet she offers him a smile like this is nothing out of the ordinary. But hell, in their position, when is anything not lacking normality?
"What are you-" He's able to stammer, before the wife appears behind him, draping her arms around his neck like the *h**e she is.
She takes aim.
She's reached her breaking point, and this was her payback.
The End
aranoid:Word count: 854
