agentmaura
Cadet
WARNING: This is my first fanfic, so please be kind . . .I wrote it because I thought, for just a moment, that I saw something like regret on Lauren's face during "Crossings" when she was looking at the picture of her and Vaughn. This is just my interpretation of what her thoughts might have been--and she isn't as evil as most of you (myself included) would like.
Disclaimer--I don't own any of the characters (unfortunately!), they are all J.J. Abrahams'.
Spoilers--Nothing, really besides "Crossings."
Please review! Thanks--Maura
The Picture
The craziest part of it all is that I truly meant what I said to Michael before he left. Sydney Bristow does seem nice. Under other circumstances, I probably would have been her friend rather than Michael’s. Sydney is so warm, so open; the coldness with which she treats me seems forced, as if she wants to hate me because of who I am, but dislikes herself for not giving me a chance. That’s all right. I hate myself for what I’ve done to her and Michael.
Michael. I stare at the picture in my hand as I think about him. He may be dead, or lost somewhere in North Korea, or captured—and it’s my fault. I curse myself as I regret the choices I’ve made. I couldn’t just be happy with a desk job—no, I wanted intrigue and danger. I wanted to be a spy, and when the U.S. government wouldn’t give me that chance, I turned to the Covenant. Now, two kind and decent people are miserable because they can’t be together, and they may be dead.
Once again, I look at the picture I’ve been holding ever since Jack Bristow told me about the disappearance of Michael and Sydney. I remember when the picture was taken—Michael and I had flown to Virginia to tell my parents that we were getting married. They were shocked—after all, we had only been dating for a few months—but tried to cover up their surprise. Dad wanted to put an engagement announcement in the paper, so he brought out his camera for a picture of the two of us together. “Relax, both of you,” he kept saying. “Get closer together.” Finally, Michael and I had both managed to satisfy him, but as I look at the picture now, I see the truth in our faces. His eyes are full of questions, hesitation about whether he’s ready to move on without Sydney. My smile is forced, my head held stiffly next to Michael’s. I wasn’t certain that I could willfully marry a man who I knew was still in love with another woman. Almost before we realized it, we were once again standing in my parent’s garden having our picture taken—but that time, we were husband and wife.
It all seems like a horrible dream to me, and I wish desperately that I could change things. I wish that Michael and Sydney could be together, that I could erase the tormented feelings that I see every day written all over their faces. Right now, however, I just wish that Jack would come over and tell me that they are both safe and coming home. I have made so many mistakes that I don’t know how to fix, but I don’t want Michael and Sydney to be the ones who have to pay for my decisions. They deserve better than that—they deserve to be happy together. Michael and I will never share what he and Sydney do . . . I can see that truth in our picture.
Disclaimer--I don't own any of the characters (unfortunately!), they are all J.J. Abrahams'.
Spoilers--Nothing, really besides "Crossings."
Please review! Thanks--Maura
The Picture
The craziest part of it all is that I truly meant what I said to Michael before he left. Sydney Bristow does seem nice. Under other circumstances, I probably would have been her friend rather than Michael’s. Sydney is so warm, so open; the coldness with which she treats me seems forced, as if she wants to hate me because of who I am, but dislikes herself for not giving me a chance. That’s all right. I hate myself for what I’ve done to her and Michael.
Michael. I stare at the picture in my hand as I think about him. He may be dead, or lost somewhere in North Korea, or captured—and it’s my fault. I curse myself as I regret the choices I’ve made. I couldn’t just be happy with a desk job—no, I wanted intrigue and danger. I wanted to be a spy, and when the U.S. government wouldn’t give me that chance, I turned to the Covenant. Now, two kind and decent people are miserable because they can’t be together, and they may be dead.
Once again, I look at the picture I’ve been holding ever since Jack Bristow told me about the disappearance of Michael and Sydney. I remember when the picture was taken—Michael and I had flown to Virginia to tell my parents that we were getting married. They were shocked—after all, we had only been dating for a few months—but tried to cover up their surprise. Dad wanted to put an engagement announcement in the paper, so he brought out his camera for a picture of the two of us together. “Relax, both of you,” he kept saying. “Get closer together.” Finally, Michael and I had both managed to satisfy him, but as I look at the picture now, I see the truth in our faces. His eyes are full of questions, hesitation about whether he’s ready to move on without Sydney. My smile is forced, my head held stiffly next to Michael’s. I wasn’t certain that I could willfully marry a man who I knew was still in love with another woman. Almost before we realized it, we were once again standing in my parent’s garden having our picture taken—but that time, we were husband and wife.
It all seems like a horrible dream to me, and I wish desperately that I could change things. I wish that Michael and Sydney could be together, that I could erase the tormented feelings that I see every day written all over their faces. Right now, however, I just wish that Jack would come over and tell me that they are both safe and coming home. I have made so many mistakes that I don’t know how to fix, but I don’t want Michael and Sydney to be the ones who have to pay for my decisions. They deserve better than that—they deserve to be happy together. Michael and I will never share what he and Sydney do . . . I can see that truth in our picture.