SkyGirl5
Cadet
Yeah, I know, I know
Ok this is different for me because this is the first time I have written in first person. I just decided to try it out to see how it went and I'm actually really pleased with out it turned out. I hope you guys like it too
This is, of course, completed and i belive there are 30 chapters.
What if Sydney had sent Vaughn a letter during her two missing years? Could he find her? Would he? Would he save her? Could he?
Time period should be pretty self explanitory - any questions just ask
Chapter 1
I saw you. I saw you with her. I saw you kiss her and I saw you hug her and I saw her follow you up to your place. It’s been nine months, two weeks, one day, seven hours, fifty minutes and twenty nine seconds. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’m happy you moved on. We’ve been through too much s*** in our lives to lie about this stuff. I’ve been through s***; you’ve been through s***; we’ve been through s*** together. But we’re not together now. I’m going through s*** alone and apparently, so are you.
I’m not going to lie to you, so here’s how it is. I wish you would have waited. I wish you would have found me. That may sound selfish, but I don’t care. I want you to be happy. I do, that’s not a lie. If you spent the rest of your life crying over me I wouldn’t like that. I guess... it’s just harder when you see it first hand.
There are a few things you need to know. First, that I love you. I know I never said it and I know you’ve never said it either, but I love you and I know you love me. I’m sorry I never got the chance to say it to your face and I guess now I never will, but I just needed you to know. Second, I’d tell you that I was ok, but I promised I wouldn’t lie. I’m ok in the sense that I wake up every morning, I get out of bed and I brush my teeth and wonder if you’re doing the same. Then I cry myself to sleep most nights simply because of the irreversible circumstances of my life. If that’s the definition of ‘ok’ then I guess, yeah, I’m ok. Third, I miss you. I’d give my life just to be held in your arms for just one more minute.
You know me. You know I’m not like you. You wear your heart on your sleeve; I don’t. Or at least, I didn’t. Things change. I never thought it could be true but people change. I’ve changed. I don’t know if you’d love the person I am now, I hope that you would because I feel that deep down I’m still the same. I’m still that person that I became because I was loved by you. It’s the surface that’s changed and it’s probably someone you wouldn’t recognize.
Please, don’t ask why I’m telling you this. It was just something I had to do.
I love you for always, my guardian angel.
~*~
-Sydney-
I won’t let myself read over what I just wrote. I can’t. I know that if I reread it I’ll realize what a stupid and moronic and dangerous thing this is. Plus, being the English major that I am, I’ll want to rewrite it. So I just fold the piece of paper up, stick it in the envelope, seal it, and read the address one last time to make sure I got it right. I did. Then I drop it in the mail box, pull down my sunglasses over my eyes and I walk away.
I’m not used to walking away. I’m used to diving in head first and trying to fix everything in sight. But lately, I’ve walked away and I’m not sure that I like myself for that.
~*~
-Vaughn-
I received a letter today. There was no return address, only my last name and address. As soon as I touched the letter I got a feeling. One of those feelings that is like a twinge in your stomach and somehow you just know before you know. So I walked back to my apartment, set the rest of the mail on the table and slid my finger under the flap of the envelope, ripping it open. I pulled the letter out, unfolded it and I only had to glance at it one second before I felt like I was going to throw up.
I got one of those feelings, one that I know all too well. It’s like that feeling you get when you’re told that someone you love more than anything in this world has just died. Sadly I know that feeling all too well, after all, I’ve had it twice in my life. First with my father and then with Sydney.
Immediately I felt like I was going to collapse. I needed to sit, but my legs were rooted in the spot and I couldn’t have moved the three steps to the couch if my life depended on it. My legs began to buckle and I sat down on the floor, leaning my back up against the doorframe to the closet just inside the door. Then, I began to read.
The first time through, I felt nothing at all; no emotion. The second time through, I felt like I was going to throw up again. The third time through, I started to cry. I don’t cry much in my life. In fact, I can only remember four specific times where I’ve cried (past the age of 4 that is). The first was when I was 8. My father had just died and I ran up to my room, flung myself on my bed and sobbed. The second was when I was 12. I was at hockey practice, I fell, my glove came off and someone skated over my hand. I was convinced two of my fingers had been cut from my body because there was so much blood. The third time was when I was 33 years old, last year, in fact, when Sydney Bristow died. That day I cried like no man has ever cried before. Everyone saw it and I didn’t care because she was gone. So this, this is the fourth time in my life I’ve cried and the tears are part from missing her, part from the pain in the letter and part from utter confusion.
I sat there for four hours, just staring at that letter. My palms were sweating, I was sure all the blood had drained from my face and I was just frozen. I could not move. Then I heard the doorbell and somehow, I don’t know how, I got up and opened the door. Lauren is there smiling at me.
“Hello Michael.” She smiles, but then her facial expression falls. “What’s wrong sweetheart? You look ill.”
“I...” I begin. My voice is barely above a whisper and its crackling. “Actually, I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Well perhaps we shouldn’t go out tonight then. Can I get you anything?” She smiles.
“No, no, I’m fine.” I say just wanting her to leave as quickly as possible.
“Alright, then. Feel better love. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She said as she blows me a kiss and then turns and walks away.
“Bye.” I manage to croak out before shutting the door and collapsing against it. I pause for a moment, collecting my breath before snatching the letter up and walking to the couch where I sit down with a loud thump as the wooden legs bounce against the wood floor. Again I’m staring at this letter, trying to make sense of it all.
The spy in me comes out and I start to wonder, is this a trick? Are they messing with my mind again? Just trying to twist the knife, make the wound a bit deeper. Sure, this is her handwriting but how easy is that to fake? But that last line hits me.
Guardian Angel
No one ever knew she called me that. No one, not even Weiss. So that part would have had to come from Sydney.
I cannot explain how many times I’ve wished she was alive. Well actually, maybe I can. Nine months, two weeks, one day, seven hours, fifty minutes and twenty nine seconds. That’s how long the letter says she’s been gone. If you convert that into seconds that is approximately twenty four million seconds and every single second my thoughts have been with her and only her.
Sydney Bristow used to be my very oxygen and when she died I thought I’d never take another breath and for a while I almost didn’t. Since then I’ve found a new way to breathe, but you know what? It’s just not the same. The letter, assuming that she wrote it, says she’d give her life to be held in my arms for one minute and you damn well better believe I’d give everything I had, my life included, to hold her for just one second.
So I sit here, staring at the letter which now has a few tear stains on it, and I’m wondering. I’m thinking and obsessing and I know it will never end until I know the truth. So that’s when I do it. I take a leap of faith and I believe.
Sydney. My Sydney, is alive.
Ok this is different for me because this is the first time I have written in first person. I just decided to try it out to see how it went and I'm actually really pleased with out it turned out. I hope you guys like it too
This is, of course, completed and i belive there are 30 chapters.
What if Sydney had sent Vaughn a letter during her two missing years? Could he find her? Would he? Would he save her? Could he?
Time period should be pretty self explanitory - any questions just ask
Chapter 1
I saw you. I saw you with her. I saw you kiss her and I saw you hug her and I saw her follow you up to your place. It’s been nine months, two weeks, one day, seven hours, fifty minutes and twenty nine seconds. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’m happy you moved on. We’ve been through too much s*** in our lives to lie about this stuff. I’ve been through s***; you’ve been through s***; we’ve been through s*** together. But we’re not together now. I’m going through s*** alone and apparently, so are you.
I’m not going to lie to you, so here’s how it is. I wish you would have waited. I wish you would have found me. That may sound selfish, but I don’t care. I want you to be happy. I do, that’s not a lie. If you spent the rest of your life crying over me I wouldn’t like that. I guess... it’s just harder when you see it first hand.
There are a few things you need to know. First, that I love you. I know I never said it and I know you’ve never said it either, but I love you and I know you love me. I’m sorry I never got the chance to say it to your face and I guess now I never will, but I just needed you to know. Second, I’d tell you that I was ok, but I promised I wouldn’t lie. I’m ok in the sense that I wake up every morning, I get out of bed and I brush my teeth and wonder if you’re doing the same. Then I cry myself to sleep most nights simply because of the irreversible circumstances of my life. If that’s the definition of ‘ok’ then I guess, yeah, I’m ok. Third, I miss you. I’d give my life just to be held in your arms for just one more minute.
You know me. You know I’m not like you. You wear your heart on your sleeve; I don’t. Or at least, I didn’t. Things change. I never thought it could be true but people change. I’ve changed. I don’t know if you’d love the person I am now, I hope that you would because I feel that deep down I’m still the same. I’m still that person that I became because I was loved by you. It’s the surface that’s changed and it’s probably someone you wouldn’t recognize.
Please, don’t ask why I’m telling you this. It was just something I had to do.
I love you for always, my guardian angel.
~*~
-Sydney-
I won’t let myself read over what I just wrote. I can’t. I know that if I reread it I’ll realize what a stupid and moronic and dangerous thing this is. Plus, being the English major that I am, I’ll want to rewrite it. So I just fold the piece of paper up, stick it in the envelope, seal it, and read the address one last time to make sure I got it right. I did. Then I drop it in the mail box, pull down my sunglasses over my eyes and I walk away.
I’m not used to walking away. I’m used to diving in head first and trying to fix everything in sight. But lately, I’ve walked away and I’m not sure that I like myself for that.
~*~
-Vaughn-
I received a letter today. There was no return address, only my last name and address. As soon as I touched the letter I got a feeling. One of those feelings that is like a twinge in your stomach and somehow you just know before you know. So I walked back to my apartment, set the rest of the mail on the table and slid my finger under the flap of the envelope, ripping it open. I pulled the letter out, unfolded it and I only had to glance at it one second before I felt like I was going to throw up.
I got one of those feelings, one that I know all too well. It’s like that feeling you get when you’re told that someone you love more than anything in this world has just died. Sadly I know that feeling all too well, after all, I’ve had it twice in my life. First with my father and then with Sydney.
Immediately I felt like I was going to collapse. I needed to sit, but my legs were rooted in the spot and I couldn’t have moved the three steps to the couch if my life depended on it. My legs began to buckle and I sat down on the floor, leaning my back up against the doorframe to the closet just inside the door. Then, I began to read.
The first time through, I felt nothing at all; no emotion. The second time through, I felt like I was going to throw up again. The third time through, I started to cry. I don’t cry much in my life. In fact, I can only remember four specific times where I’ve cried (past the age of 4 that is). The first was when I was 8. My father had just died and I ran up to my room, flung myself on my bed and sobbed. The second was when I was 12. I was at hockey practice, I fell, my glove came off and someone skated over my hand. I was convinced two of my fingers had been cut from my body because there was so much blood. The third time was when I was 33 years old, last year, in fact, when Sydney Bristow died. That day I cried like no man has ever cried before. Everyone saw it and I didn’t care because she was gone. So this, this is the fourth time in my life I’ve cried and the tears are part from missing her, part from the pain in the letter and part from utter confusion.
I sat there for four hours, just staring at that letter. My palms were sweating, I was sure all the blood had drained from my face and I was just frozen. I could not move. Then I heard the doorbell and somehow, I don’t know how, I got up and opened the door. Lauren is there smiling at me.
“Hello Michael.” She smiles, but then her facial expression falls. “What’s wrong sweetheart? You look ill.”
“I...” I begin. My voice is barely above a whisper and its crackling. “Actually, I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Well perhaps we shouldn’t go out tonight then. Can I get you anything?” She smiles.
“No, no, I’m fine.” I say just wanting her to leave as quickly as possible.
“Alright, then. Feel better love. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She said as she blows me a kiss and then turns and walks away.
“Bye.” I manage to croak out before shutting the door and collapsing against it. I pause for a moment, collecting my breath before snatching the letter up and walking to the couch where I sit down with a loud thump as the wooden legs bounce against the wood floor. Again I’m staring at this letter, trying to make sense of it all.
The spy in me comes out and I start to wonder, is this a trick? Are they messing with my mind again? Just trying to twist the knife, make the wound a bit deeper. Sure, this is her handwriting but how easy is that to fake? But that last line hits me.
Guardian Angel
No one ever knew she called me that. No one, not even Weiss. So that part would have had to come from Sydney.
I cannot explain how many times I’ve wished she was alive. Well actually, maybe I can. Nine months, two weeks, one day, seven hours, fifty minutes and twenty nine seconds. That’s how long the letter says she’s been gone. If you convert that into seconds that is approximately twenty four million seconds and every single second my thoughts have been with her and only her.
Sydney Bristow used to be my very oxygen and when she died I thought I’d never take another breath and for a while I almost didn’t. Since then I’ve found a new way to breathe, but you know what? It’s just not the same. The letter, assuming that she wrote it, says she’d give her life to be held in my arms for one minute and you damn well better believe I’d give everything I had, my life included, to hold her for just one second.
So I sit here, staring at the letter which now has a few tear stains on it, and I’m wondering. I’m thinking and obsessing and I know it will never end until I know the truth. So that’s when I do it. I take a leap of faith and I believe.
Sydney. My Sydney, is alive.
love it!