Hey guys :hi: This is my first post as a member...I usually live over at SD-1 but Kat dragged me over here
Title: The Pizza Boy
Rating: PG
Summary: Some fun fluff for all those floudering in Season 3 angst :lol:
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 1
It was seven o'clock in the evening and Sydney Bristow lay sprawled across her comforter with an open book in her hands. It was a Robert Ludlum novel, she had always been able drown her self in his spy stories because, well, lets just say she could relate. One might think that someone like Sydney would spend her time trying to get away from the life she lead, but the difference between her life and the fictional Jason Bournes is that he was guaranteed a happy ending, something she most certainly was not. And this was the reasoning behind the anticipation she felt with the turn every page, the thrill she was normally given when she found herself predicting his every move to a tee. But not tonight. Tonight was different.
47. She had been lying there for nearly three hours and all she had managed to accomplish was 47 pages. And to tell the truth, she had read page 47 nearly three times and had not retained a word of it. Part of that was probably due to the fact that she hadn't a clue as to what was going on, the plot was still unknown to her and the characters she should have over- analyzed by now were still nameless.
Sighing in defeat she finally shut the book and threw it across the room; allowing it to crash nosily into her dresser mere inches from an empty picture frame. This, of-course, was done purposely; Sydney would never do anything to harm the particular frame. It had not always been empty, up until last night it carried a photo of a beautiful young woman and her daughter. But that photo was no longer in tact, but lying on the ground out back with a bullet hole strategically placed in the woman's arm. She had meant to replace the picture a long time ago, knowing full well that the photograph formally residing in the frame had no business anywhere near something she held so dear to her heart (not to mention whom it was she had received it from), but had never really found the time to do so. Last night, she found the time.
Normally, when someone removes a picture from its frame, another picture soon replaces it. But Sydney was by no means a normal person, and she had purposely left the frame empty. The frame was a reminder to her; the emptiness of it gave her strength. It pushed her harder, because she knew that the picture that belonged in the frame could not even be taken until she had accomplished her goals. It reminded her of the happiness that she might find at the end of the struggle.
Pulling her eyes from the frame she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and couldn't help but laugh. Here she was in her favorite jeans (the ones you wear until there are holes in them and then search for the same pair, because they just look so darn good on you), her favorite white turtleneck (the kind that hugged you in all the right places) and the perfect pair of boots (not to tall, not too short, and the perfect shade of brown); all for the pizza boy.
The pizza boy, the man that knew her inside and out, the only person who even knew half of what she was going through. He had known everything there was to know about her, until now. Because now there was something that she just could not talk to him about. Something that she herself had not even realized until Taipei and that something hit her like a ton of bricks. More like a ton of water. When she got back from hell earlier this week, Francie asked her and Will to take a group vacation, go to a beach somewhere and just relax by the water for week or two. But she would not go. She could not be that close to something that had begun to haunt her dreams. Her worst nightmares used to be of Danny, lifeless and bloody in her bathtub. But now they came in the form of a forceful wave crashing down on the man that meant more than the world to her. And when she woke up after these dreams she was always caked in sweat, tangled in her sheets and on the verge of tears.
Will had graciously offered to go with Francie, suggesting it as an opportunity to help him 'recover' from his 'addiction'. She hopes that Will hates her, even if it is only a little part of him that does. Because if he doesn't, he is an idiot. Because of her, he lost his job and more than a few of his teeth. That is not something a good friend does to you.
She begins to wrestle the idea of ordering some pizza. One part of her begs her not to, tells her that if he really wanted to see her than he would make the call, he knew her number as well as she knew his. But the other part of her says what the hell, he himself said that she could call him when she needed to talk, and she did. Finally, the selfish part of her won out, and she reached for the phone and began to dial her lifeline.
The ringing lasted what seemed like hours, and finally she heard his voice, and surprisingly it sounded more anxious than tired.
"Hello?"
She surpressed a laugh and answered in a bubbly voice.
"Joey's Pizza?"
"I...Uh...wrong number."
She could feel him smiling on the other end.
"Well if you aren't Joey's Pizza, shouldn't you be asleep this time of night?"
"I've had someone on my mind. What about you, what brought on the sudden urge to order pizza so late?"
"Ah...well...you see, I realized that I hadn't had delivery pizza in at least two days and was feeling separation anxiety."
His infectious laugh made her smile widen, it wasn't every day that they shared such meaningless banter.
"Well I am sorry if I couldn't help, but if you don't mind my asking, what exactly was it that you were hoping to order tonight?"
"A medium with everything."
"Good choice. I hope you have better luck with you next call."
"Well that's very nice coming from a complete stranger."
"Maybe I'm just a nice guy."
"Goodnight nice guy."
"Goodnight."
It was amazing how such a pointless conversation could mean so much to two people. Normally, that kind of thing happened daily, but normal people don't meet in clandestine warehouses and underground government offices.
Sydney grabbed her keys and put on her precious pea coat (the kind you splurge on because it isn't often that you find something that not only do you love, but keeps you more than warm) And heads out the door. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she smiles at the sudden change in her demeanor. Her sulky eyes had that sparkle back, and her pout had turned into a wide grin.
It was then that she realized that she could not survive without pizza.
Title: The Pizza Boy
Rating: PG
Summary: Some fun fluff for all those floudering in Season 3 angst :lol:
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 1
It was seven o'clock in the evening and Sydney Bristow lay sprawled across her comforter with an open book in her hands. It was a Robert Ludlum novel, she had always been able drown her self in his spy stories because, well, lets just say she could relate. One might think that someone like Sydney would spend her time trying to get away from the life she lead, but the difference between her life and the fictional Jason Bournes is that he was guaranteed a happy ending, something she most certainly was not. And this was the reasoning behind the anticipation she felt with the turn every page, the thrill she was normally given when she found herself predicting his every move to a tee. But not tonight. Tonight was different.
47. She had been lying there for nearly three hours and all she had managed to accomplish was 47 pages. And to tell the truth, she had read page 47 nearly three times and had not retained a word of it. Part of that was probably due to the fact that she hadn't a clue as to what was going on, the plot was still unknown to her and the characters she should have over- analyzed by now were still nameless.
Sighing in defeat she finally shut the book and threw it across the room; allowing it to crash nosily into her dresser mere inches from an empty picture frame. This, of-course, was done purposely; Sydney would never do anything to harm the particular frame. It had not always been empty, up until last night it carried a photo of a beautiful young woman and her daughter. But that photo was no longer in tact, but lying on the ground out back with a bullet hole strategically placed in the woman's arm. She had meant to replace the picture a long time ago, knowing full well that the photograph formally residing in the frame had no business anywhere near something she held so dear to her heart (not to mention whom it was she had received it from), but had never really found the time to do so. Last night, she found the time.
Normally, when someone removes a picture from its frame, another picture soon replaces it. But Sydney was by no means a normal person, and she had purposely left the frame empty. The frame was a reminder to her; the emptiness of it gave her strength. It pushed her harder, because she knew that the picture that belonged in the frame could not even be taken until she had accomplished her goals. It reminded her of the happiness that she might find at the end of the struggle.
Pulling her eyes from the frame she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and couldn't help but laugh. Here she was in her favorite jeans (the ones you wear until there are holes in them and then search for the same pair, because they just look so darn good on you), her favorite white turtleneck (the kind that hugged you in all the right places) and the perfect pair of boots (not to tall, not too short, and the perfect shade of brown); all for the pizza boy.
The pizza boy, the man that knew her inside and out, the only person who even knew half of what she was going through. He had known everything there was to know about her, until now. Because now there was something that she just could not talk to him about. Something that she herself had not even realized until Taipei and that something hit her like a ton of bricks. More like a ton of water. When she got back from hell earlier this week, Francie asked her and Will to take a group vacation, go to a beach somewhere and just relax by the water for week or two. But she would not go. She could not be that close to something that had begun to haunt her dreams. Her worst nightmares used to be of Danny, lifeless and bloody in her bathtub. But now they came in the form of a forceful wave crashing down on the man that meant more than the world to her. And when she woke up after these dreams she was always caked in sweat, tangled in her sheets and on the verge of tears.
Will had graciously offered to go with Francie, suggesting it as an opportunity to help him 'recover' from his 'addiction'. She hopes that Will hates her, even if it is only a little part of him that does. Because if he doesn't, he is an idiot. Because of her, he lost his job and more than a few of his teeth. That is not something a good friend does to you.
She begins to wrestle the idea of ordering some pizza. One part of her begs her not to, tells her that if he really wanted to see her than he would make the call, he knew her number as well as she knew his. But the other part of her says what the hell, he himself said that she could call him when she needed to talk, and she did. Finally, the selfish part of her won out, and she reached for the phone and began to dial her lifeline.
The ringing lasted what seemed like hours, and finally she heard his voice, and surprisingly it sounded more anxious than tired.
"Hello?"
She surpressed a laugh and answered in a bubbly voice.
"Joey's Pizza?"
"I...Uh...wrong number."
She could feel him smiling on the other end.
"Well if you aren't Joey's Pizza, shouldn't you be asleep this time of night?"
"I've had someone on my mind. What about you, what brought on the sudden urge to order pizza so late?"
"Ah...well...you see, I realized that I hadn't had delivery pizza in at least two days and was feeling separation anxiety."
His infectious laugh made her smile widen, it wasn't every day that they shared such meaningless banter.
"Well I am sorry if I couldn't help, but if you don't mind my asking, what exactly was it that you were hoping to order tonight?"
"A medium with everything."
"Good choice. I hope you have better luck with you next call."
"Well that's very nice coming from a complete stranger."
"Maybe I'm just a nice guy."
"Goodnight nice guy."
"Goodnight."
It was amazing how such a pointless conversation could mean so much to two people. Normally, that kind of thing happened daily, but normal people don't meet in clandestine warehouses and underground government offices.
Sydney grabbed her keys and put on her precious pea coat (the kind you splurge on because it isn't often that you find something that not only do you love, but keeps you more than warm) And heads out the door. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she smiles at the sudden change in her demeanor. Her sulky eyes had that sparkle back, and her pout had turned into a wide grin.
It was then that she realized that she could not survive without pizza.