Title: Peace of mind
Chapters: 1/1
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Don’t sue. All belongs to the brilliant J.J Abrams and his associates.
Summary: Set in season 3 after Repercussions. Sydney’s thoughts during a drinking session with Weiss.
Ship: S/V. Well sorta...its kinda angsty
A/N: The idea for this fic kinda sprung in my head unexpectedly and I hope it makes sense…it did in my head. I know I have another fic floating around here somewhere which I’m still writing ie. Shades of Red (*smirk* shameless self-promotion) and I promise to finish writing that. This fic is to get the creative juices flowing
Hope you enjoy!
PEACE OF MIND
I am the pillar of strength that everyone seeks…that everyone relies on. I am the pillar carved out of stone that embodies vigor, reliability and endurance. Everyone leans on me knowing that I will stop them from falling; I will help them stand again. Once they can stand I help them walk…they walk away with a brief look behind them as their gesture of gratitude.
I stand here as the pillar of strength.
Alone.
Despite the many people I help no one stays. Once they have found what they were looking for they move on.
Alone, I endure the weather: the blistering heat, the raging storm, and the paralyzing cold. Despite my world-renowned strength, the weather has its toll and cracks begin to show. Small lines traced clumsily around me begin to grow wider and longer as the unforgivable weather has no end. The cracks evolve into crevasses and I feel the ground shift beneath me…I feel myself sway unsteadily…I feel my body crumbling.
People still stop and lean against me, seeking the dependability and strength they know I give. So I give because I don’t want them to see that stone has turned into sand…the pillar of strength is now the pillar of false hope. But the cracks continue to evolve into crevasses as new cracks are born and I feel myself inching away from stability.
The pillar of strength is no longer strong.
No one stops and leans on me anymore, no one even notices the many jaded pieces falling from the former pillar of strength.
Who will pick up the pieces that I can’t? Who will help me put the fallen pieces back into place and cover the cracks? Who will hold me together when I can’t? Who will be…
“…my glue?” I pronounce drowsily, my intoxication evident as I struggle to pour another shot for myself.
“Your glue?” Weiss asks incredulously as he furrows his brow. He is just as intoxicated as he clumsily spills his shot across the coffee table. “Sydney, I think you’ve had way too much to drink. I’m cutting you off.” Weiss reaches for the tequila bottle but his state of drunkenness causes him to spill the contents on the floor. I burst out into a fit of giggle as the sight of Weiss scrambling to save the remaining alcohol entertains me.
I sigh heavily, enjoying this state of blissful ignorance as the numerous shots have deafened me to the agonizing internal bleeding. Ever since I woke up in Hong Kong, a gaping hole now stands where my heart use to vacate.
I unconsciously shudder at the memory of Vaughn uttering words of agony, his refusal to lift his eyes – the window to his soul. The pain and hurt that co-existed with the love and passion in our relationship blankets Vaughn’s face as I struggle to determine whether his anguish stems from my disorientation and confused pain or from the fact that I am here and he has to see me.
Then I see my answer.
The gleam of his wedding band blinding me and I drown in the depths of the pool of despair.
“Sydney, are you listening to me?” Weiss waves his hand in front of face which causes me to awaken from my reverie.
“Of course I’m not.” I answer cheekily the remnants of my intoxication still showing.
“Yes, typical.” Weiss mutters.
Our drinking session ends shortly and I know that reality is waiting for me to return so it can enjoy the infliction of the harsh truth – I have no glue.
“Glue? You’re still going on about that?” Weiss questions groggily as he begins to clear the table of the plethora of used shot glasses and empty alcohol bottles. I sigh in resignation and assist Weiss in the clean up.
I use to have glue. Loyal, devoted, faithful glue.
Glue that kept me together in my darkest hour. Glue that answered my every beckoning, no matter the time. Glue that knew just what to say and when to say it. Glue that was willing to be my pillar of strength. And for one briefest moment in a life that now exists only as a distant memory, I had my glue…I had Vaughn.
“Just before I leave, you should know that Vaughn is out of the hospital.” I lift my eyes to Weiss who is standing at the front door. “He’s recovering at home for a couple of days before coming back to work.” I smile but the sentiment does not reach my eyes. Weiss returns the gesture, only acutely aware of the pain in my eyes, before he waves goodbye and walks out the door. My smile vanishes and the painful ache that has been tormenting me returns.
I no longer have Vaughn because someone else does. He is someone else’s glue.
Lauren Reed. The wife.
Vaughn and I, we were the pillar of strength. Together. We relied on each other more than we realized…we gave each other strength more than we had to…we loved each other more than we wanted to admit.
We were each other’s pillars of strength. We leaned on one another to stop each other from falling. We helped each other stand again. We helped each other walk and we walked away together.
Pillars of strength.
Together.
Professionally. Personally. Emotionally. Psychologically. Physically.
And now, that is just a cherished memory relived only by those who can endure the pain of acknowledging what had been and what is now lost.
I stagger towards my bedroom to lay my emotionally battered body on my comfortable bed. My energy has been evaporated by my inner turmoil and my body moves with little thought – every night has turned into an arduous routine. I kick off my shoes and lay on top of the bed sheets, unable to muster enough energy to care about changing into my pajamas and sleeping under the covers.
Before I drift off into another fitful slumber, a question – the same question every night – lurks in my mind, seeking an answer.
I’ve lost my glue and every pillar of strength needs their glue…needs their own pillar of strength.
Who will be mine?
Chapters: 1/1
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Don’t sue. All belongs to the brilliant J.J Abrams and his associates.
Summary: Set in season 3 after Repercussions. Sydney’s thoughts during a drinking session with Weiss.
Ship: S/V. Well sorta...its kinda angsty
A/N: The idea for this fic kinda sprung in my head unexpectedly and I hope it makes sense…it did in my head. I know I have another fic floating around here somewhere which I’m still writing ie. Shades of Red (*smirk* shameless self-promotion) and I promise to finish writing that. This fic is to get the creative juices flowing
Hope you enjoy!PEACE OF MIND
I am the pillar of strength that everyone seeks…that everyone relies on. I am the pillar carved out of stone that embodies vigor, reliability and endurance. Everyone leans on me knowing that I will stop them from falling; I will help them stand again. Once they can stand I help them walk…they walk away with a brief look behind them as their gesture of gratitude.
I stand here as the pillar of strength.
Alone.
Despite the many people I help no one stays. Once they have found what they were looking for they move on.
Alone, I endure the weather: the blistering heat, the raging storm, and the paralyzing cold. Despite my world-renowned strength, the weather has its toll and cracks begin to show. Small lines traced clumsily around me begin to grow wider and longer as the unforgivable weather has no end. The cracks evolve into crevasses and I feel the ground shift beneath me…I feel myself sway unsteadily…I feel my body crumbling.
People still stop and lean against me, seeking the dependability and strength they know I give. So I give because I don’t want them to see that stone has turned into sand…the pillar of strength is now the pillar of false hope. But the cracks continue to evolve into crevasses as new cracks are born and I feel myself inching away from stability.
The pillar of strength is no longer strong.
No one stops and leans on me anymore, no one even notices the many jaded pieces falling from the former pillar of strength.
Who will pick up the pieces that I can’t? Who will help me put the fallen pieces back into place and cover the cracks? Who will hold me together when I can’t? Who will be…
“…my glue?” I pronounce drowsily, my intoxication evident as I struggle to pour another shot for myself.
“Your glue?” Weiss asks incredulously as he furrows his brow. He is just as intoxicated as he clumsily spills his shot across the coffee table. “Sydney, I think you’ve had way too much to drink. I’m cutting you off.” Weiss reaches for the tequila bottle but his state of drunkenness causes him to spill the contents on the floor. I burst out into a fit of giggle as the sight of Weiss scrambling to save the remaining alcohol entertains me.
I sigh heavily, enjoying this state of blissful ignorance as the numerous shots have deafened me to the agonizing internal bleeding. Ever since I woke up in Hong Kong, a gaping hole now stands where my heart use to vacate.
I unconsciously shudder at the memory of Vaughn uttering words of agony, his refusal to lift his eyes – the window to his soul. The pain and hurt that co-existed with the love and passion in our relationship blankets Vaughn’s face as I struggle to determine whether his anguish stems from my disorientation and confused pain or from the fact that I am here and he has to see me.
Then I see my answer.
The gleam of his wedding band blinding me and I drown in the depths of the pool of despair.
“Sydney, are you listening to me?” Weiss waves his hand in front of face which causes me to awaken from my reverie.
“Of course I’m not.” I answer cheekily the remnants of my intoxication still showing.
“Yes, typical.” Weiss mutters.
Our drinking session ends shortly and I know that reality is waiting for me to return so it can enjoy the infliction of the harsh truth – I have no glue.
“Glue? You’re still going on about that?” Weiss questions groggily as he begins to clear the table of the plethora of used shot glasses and empty alcohol bottles. I sigh in resignation and assist Weiss in the clean up.
I use to have glue. Loyal, devoted, faithful glue.
Glue that kept me together in my darkest hour. Glue that answered my every beckoning, no matter the time. Glue that knew just what to say and when to say it. Glue that was willing to be my pillar of strength. And for one briefest moment in a life that now exists only as a distant memory, I had my glue…I had Vaughn.
“Just before I leave, you should know that Vaughn is out of the hospital.” I lift my eyes to Weiss who is standing at the front door. “He’s recovering at home for a couple of days before coming back to work.” I smile but the sentiment does not reach my eyes. Weiss returns the gesture, only acutely aware of the pain in my eyes, before he waves goodbye and walks out the door. My smile vanishes and the painful ache that has been tormenting me returns.
I no longer have Vaughn because someone else does. He is someone else’s glue.
Lauren Reed. The wife.
Vaughn and I, we were the pillar of strength. Together. We relied on each other more than we realized…we gave each other strength more than we had to…we loved each other more than we wanted to admit.
We were each other’s pillars of strength. We leaned on one another to stop each other from falling. We helped each other stand again. We helped each other walk and we walked away together.
Pillars of strength.
Together.
Professionally. Personally. Emotionally. Psychologically. Physically.
And now, that is just a cherished memory relived only by those who can endure the pain of acknowledging what had been and what is now lost.
I stagger towards my bedroom to lay my emotionally battered body on my comfortable bed. My energy has been evaporated by my inner turmoil and my body moves with little thought – every night has turned into an arduous routine. I kick off my shoes and lay on top of the bed sheets, unable to muster enough energy to care about changing into my pajamas and sleeping under the covers.
Before I drift off into another fitful slumber, a question – the same question every night – lurks in my mind, seeking an answer.
I’ve lost my glue and every pillar of strength needs their glue…needs their own pillar of strength.
Who will be mine?
