Leslie
Super Fantastisch
Err… 
This one’s not as tight as the other one, but here goes anyway…
Title: With or Without You
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, JJ owns Alias and all the characters therein.
Rating: PG-13, for innuendo and violence
Song: With or Without You by the immortal U2
Timeline: Pre-Phase One; Vaughn is in this, but I kept his role as small as possible ^_^
A/N: Sequel to Love is Blindness, which should be read first.
See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you
He was crouched behind the desk, chest heaving, beads of sweat forming at his temples and dripping from his forehead. His gun cocked, he gripped it white-knuckled with both hands as if it would save his life. It just might. And then, there she was.
Not a word was spoken. Just silence. Just pain. It passed between them on an electric wire. And then, he had to. He just had to. She keeled over at his touch, the sharp contact making his hand burn.
The artifact swung at his side as he ran off down the eternal staircase to the open door waiting for him at the bottom. Open doors don’t always lead to liberation, he thought, as the heavy metal screeched shut behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you
He shot up from the wet sheets, chest heaving, beads of sweat forming at his temples and dripping from his forehead. He reached for his gun, gripping it white-knuckled with both hands as if it would save his life.
But no one was there.
No one was ever there, anymore.
He wept bitterly, tears and sweat mixing to form a flood that swallowed him whole.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With or without you
With or without you
It had been too long. Her pen tapped the surface of her desk ferociously; she willed it to snap in two. Hand supporting her cheek, her thoughts roamed once again to the past months without him, without his touch, his smile, his warm embrace like a comfortable blanket wrapped around her, supporting her, loving her. The tiny droplet swelled as it hit the piece of paper strewn carelessly on the desk. She smiled. Not a happy smile. A longing smile.
She missed him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you
Her ribs ached where he had touched her. He had touched her. Vaughn grabbed her hand and lifted her up, gingerly. She smiled. A happy smile. Vaughn furrowed his brow at her, his eyes stretching into the look of a puppy, concern marking his features.
“Are you all right?”
She was still smiling.
“Fine.”
“Sark got the globe.”
Her expression changed. Disgust.
“I know.” Idiot.
He looked at her oddly then. He saw that her mind was far away; she was not looking at him. She was looking behind him at the staircase. Her gaze did not falter.
He let out a sigh of resignation. She was completely lost.
“Find me,” she whispered, too softly for Vaughn to hear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
He clenched his finger over the trigger. Again. Again. A dog-eared folder flapped open and closed on the table in the breeze from the flying bullets. A rifle now. There. And there. No one stood a chance against him. He glanced down at the file Irina had given him. Another innocent to capture. He lowered his gun.
He wondered where she was.
She slammed her foot into the hanging bag. Again. Again. A dog-eared folder flapped open and closed on the floor in the breeze from the swinging sack. A fist now. There. And there. No one stood a chance against her. She glanced down at the file Kendall had given her. Another terrorist to capture. She lowered her taped hand.
She wondered where he was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
The broken body on the ground was painted red and sticky with blood. A gunshot wound. Round, perfect. The work of a trained assassin. A good one, at that. She knew immediately who that was. But she also knew the stained corpse that was lying there, unseeing. He had sat at the desk next to hers. An informant inside the Organization, and her mother’s omniscience had murdered him.
The man she loved had murdered him.
She could love him no more. It had to end. She had to stop thinking about that angelic devil and give her energy – all of it – to the cause she so fiercely believed in. She remembered why she had made that fateful decision only a few months ago. She had been right. She must have been right.
So she wasn’t thinking about him when she zipped up her camo fatigues and tucked the automatic into her belt at the small of her back. She wasn’t thinking about him when they climbed into the van – Dixon, Vaughn, Jack, Weiss, and her. She wasn’t thinking about him when the van slithered off into the dusty yellow sky of a Cairo mid-morning.
And she wasn’t thinking about him when the van stopped, and the clicks of readied weapons echoed where they sat in the womb of that sleek silver snake. She wasn’t thinking about him when she stepped out into the bright sun and hot, dense air of the desert.
And then… she thought about him.
Because there he was.
My hands are tied
My body bruised, she's got me with
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose
A fist flew before she could register the reality of the gangly blond man standing – now kneeling – before her. He had fallen, the initial shock of the blow buckling his knees. He tucked his head against his gray t-shirt and when he looked up again, eyes ice-blue in contrast to the pervading heat, it was wet and stained with blood. And oh, his nose! She gasped. A hand covered her mouth. Then… what was he doing here?!
He squinted up at his Sydney, looking so brave and determined, and… sad, he thought, in the scorching desert sunlight. He smiled at her. The fist that had brought forth his blood now grabbed his throat, forcing his attention and strength toward the hands now cutting off his air supply. He clung to the knuckles – knotted, scraped, used to violence – wrenching at them to free himself. Then he saw the patches of pink. Thinking he was near the end, he fought to see her one last time. He watched her face as it slowly slipped beyond his view, behind Vaughn’s towering figure.
He saw her elbow. So lovely.
Then blackness.
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
Slowly, oh so slowly, the world came into focus. He half expected to be in the other world, and was glad to see a ceiling above him. Rather nice one for a CIA cell, what?
Lunge! A living room. Grip! An upholstered armchair. Where am I?
Then, he saw the angel. He smiled. Oh, I’m here.
I’m home.
She was moving toward him slowly, trying not to spill the steaming mug of tea she gripped with both hands. She perched on an arm of the chair, handing him the mug and wrapping her liberated arms around his rigid shoulders. Then, overwhelmed, she pulled him to her and pressed her cheek against his. Just holding him.
The tea spilled anyway. They didn’t care.
His arms wrapped around her so tightly, and his large, rough hands on the back of her neck felt like… freedom. Felt like something real.
Like love.
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
Long, slender fingers made shapes in the unruly sheets between them.
“Well.” She laughed, to cover embarrassment. “I thought I could do it. But I couldn’t.”
Nothing cocky. Just, “I couldn’t either. And for the record, you were probably doing better that I.” He turned his face from her. Hated to admit a weakness, but knew she was the one to admit them to.
Tears began to form without provocation. “I can’t believe… I can’t believe they did that.” She was trying to find his eyes, wanted them to hold on to. He offered them back to her readily.
“People will always disappoint you, Sydney.” His eyes searched hers. She knew the subtext, knew who he was. But she didn’t care about that anymore.
“I know.” She had seen it too many times before. First her father, then her mother, then Vaughn, Dixon, and even Weiss… People will always disappoint you. They thought they knew what she wanted, but they didn’t. They could never know, or understand.
He understood.
“So you really almost choked that poor sap Mr. Vaughn to death, eh Sydney?” The playful look was back. He grinned mischievously at her. She grinned right back.
“Had to be pulled off of him by the jaws of life.” Her laugh sounded like Poe’s silver bell, tinkling joyfully and filling the room.
Then she was sober again, a new thought weighing on her mind, painfully.
“My leave of absence won’t last forever, Sark.” She waited for his reaction. She wasn’t sure what she expected him to offer by way of a reply.
He opted for cold reality.
“You’re just going to let them keep doing this to you, aren’t you?” He cast her a sideways look. “Deceiving you. Forcing you to make enemies you don’t want to make…”
Then lower, husky. “Or to kill people you don’t want to kill.”
She was quick. “I wasn’t supposed to kill him… you…” Her voice trailed off. “Just capture.”
“Well.” It was final. It was, ‘I’ve proved my point, haven’t I?’
“I can’t do anything about this, Sark. My hands are tied.”
“No, mine are. Or they will be…”
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
“This is the sad and frightening choice that is only yours to make, Sydney Bristow. There is nothing anyone can do to help you make it. Not anyone. Not even me, though I wish to God with all my heart that I could.”
The silence passed between them like the smooth sea refusing to notice the gray vapors billowing at the horizon.
With or without you
This one’s not as tight as the other one, but here goes anyway…Title: With or Without You
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, JJ owns Alias and all the characters therein.
Rating: PG-13, for innuendo and violence
Song: With or Without You by the immortal U2
Timeline: Pre-Phase One; Vaughn is in this, but I kept his role as small as possible ^_^
A/N: Sequel to Love is Blindness, which should be read first.
See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you
He was crouched behind the desk, chest heaving, beads of sweat forming at his temples and dripping from his forehead. His gun cocked, he gripped it white-knuckled with both hands as if it would save his life. It just might. And then, there she was.
Not a word was spoken. Just silence. Just pain. It passed between them on an electric wire. And then, he had to. He just had to. She keeled over at his touch, the sharp contact making his hand burn.
The artifact swung at his side as he ran off down the eternal staircase to the open door waiting for him at the bottom. Open doors don’t always lead to liberation, he thought, as the heavy metal screeched shut behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you
He shot up from the wet sheets, chest heaving, beads of sweat forming at his temples and dripping from his forehead. He reached for his gun, gripping it white-knuckled with both hands as if it would save his life.
But no one was there.
No one was ever there, anymore.
He wept bitterly, tears and sweat mixing to form a flood that swallowed him whole.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With or without you
With or without you
It had been too long. Her pen tapped the surface of her desk ferociously; she willed it to snap in two. Hand supporting her cheek, her thoughts roamed once again to the past months without him, without his touch, his smile, his warm embrace like a comfortable blanket wrapped around her, supporting her, loving her. The tiny droplet swelled as it hit the piece of paper strewn carelessly on the desk. She smiled. Not a happy smile. A longing smile.
She missed him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you
Her ribs ached where he had touched her. He had touched her. Vaughn grabbed her hand and lifted her up, gingerly. She smiled. A happy smile. Vaughn furrowed his brow at her, his eyes stretching into the look of a puppy, concern marking his features.
“Are you all right?”
She was still smiling.
“Fine.”
“Sark got the globe.”
Her expression changed. Disgust.
“I know.” Idiot.
He looked at her oddly then. He saw that her mind was far away; she was not looking at him. She was looking behind him at the staircase. Her gaze did not falter.
He let out a sigh of resignation. She was completely lost.
“Find me,” she whispered, too softly for Vaughn to hear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
He clenched his finger over the trigger. Again. Again. A dog-eared folder flapped open and closed on the table in the breeze from the flying bullets. A rifle now. There. And there. No one stood a chance against him. He glanced down at the file Irina had given him. Another innocent to capture. He lowered his gun.
He wondered where she was.
She slammed her foot into the hanging bag. Again. Again. A dog-eared folder flapped open and closed on the floor in the breeze from the swinging sack. A fist now. There. And there. No one stood a chance against her. She glanced down at the file Kendall had given her. Another terrorist to capture. She lowered her taped hand.
She wondered where he was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
The broken body on the ground was painted red and sticky with blood. A gunshot wound. Round, perfect. The work of a trained assassin. A good one, at that. She knew immediately who that was. But she also knew the stained corpse that was lying there, unseeing. He had sat at the desk next to hers. An informant inside the Organization, and her mother’s omniscience had murdered him.
The man she loved had murdered him.
She could love him no more. It had to end. She had to stop thinking about that angelic devil and give her energy – all of it – to the cause she so fiercely believed in. She remembered why she had made that fateful decision only a few months ago. She had been right. She must have been right.
So she wasn’t thinking about him when she zipped up her camo fatigues and tucked the automatic into her belt at the small of her back. She wasn’t thinking about him when they climbed into the van – Dixon, Vaughn, Jack, Weiss, and her. She wasn’t thinking about him when the van slithered off into the dusty yellow sky of a Cairo mid-morning.
And she wasn’t thinking about him when the van stopped, and the clicks of readied weapons echoed where they sat in the womb of that sleek silver snake. She wasn’t thinking about him when she stepped out into the bright sun and hot, dense air of the desert.
And then… she thought about him.
Because there he was.
My hands are tied
My body bruised, she's got me with
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose
A fist flew before she could register the reality of the gangly blond man standing – now kneeling – before her. He had fallen, the initial shock of the blow buckling his knees. He tucked his head against his gray t-shirt and when he looked up again, eyes ice-blue in contrast to the pervading heat, it was wet and stained with blood. And oh, his nose! She gasped. A hand covered her mouth. Then… what was he doing here?!
He squinted up at his Sydney, looking so brave and determined, and… sad, he thought, in the scorching desert sunlight. He smiled at her. The fist that had brought forth his blood now grabbed his throat, forcing his attention and strength toward the hands now cutting off his air supply. He clung to the knuckles – knotted, scraped, used to violence – wrenching at them to free himself. Then he saw the patches of pink. Thinking he was near the end, he fought to see her one last time. He watched her face as it slowly slipped beyond his view, behind Vaughn’s towering figure.
He saw her elbow. So lovely.
Then blackness.
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
Slowly, oh so slowly, the world came into focus. He half expected to be in the other world, and was glad to see a ceiling above him. Rather nice one for a CIA cell, what?
Lunge! A living room. Grip! An upholstered armchair. Where am I?
Then, he saw the angel. He smiled. Oh, I’m here.
I’m home.
She was moving toward him slowly, trying not to spill the steaming mug of tea she gripped with both hands. She perched on an arm of the chair, handing him the mug and wrapping her liberated arms around his rigid shoulders. Then, overwhelmed, she pulled him to her and pressed her cheek against his. Just holding him.
The tea spilled anyway. They didn’t care.
His arms wrapped around her so tightly, and his large, rough hands on the back of her neck felt like… freedom. Felt like something real.
Like love.
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
Long, slender fingers made shapes in the unruly sheets between them.
“Well.” She laughed, to cover embarrassment. “I thought I could do it. But I couldn’t.”
Nothing cocky. Just, “I couldn’t either. And for the record, you were probably doing better that I.” He turned his face from her. Hated to admit a weakness, but knew she was the one to admit them to.
Tears began to form without provocation. “I can’t believe… I can’t believe they did that.” She was trying to find his eyes, wanted them to hold on to. He offered them back to her readily.
“People will always disappoint you, Sydney.” His eyes searched hers. She knew the subtext, knew who he was. But she didn’t care about that anymore.
“I know.” She had seen it too many times before. First her father, then her mother, then Vaughn, Dixon, and even Weiss… People will always disappoint you. They thought they knew what she wanted, but they didn’t. They could never know, or understand.
He understood.
“So you really almost choked that poor sap Mr. Vaughn to death, eh Sydney?” The playful look was back. He grinned mischievously at her. She grinned right back.
“Had to be pulled off of him by the jaws of life.” Her laugh sounded like Poe’s silver bell, tinkling joyfully and filling the room.
Then she was sober again, a new thought weighing on her mind, painfully.
“My leave of absence won’t last forever, Sark.” She waited for his reaction. She wasn’t sure what she expected him to offer by way of a reply.
He opted for cold reality.
“You’re just going to let them keep doing this to you, aren’t you?” He cast her a sideways look. “Deceiving you. Forcing you to make enemies you don’t want to make…”
Then lower, husky. “Or to kill people you don’t want to kill.”
She was quick. “I wasn’t supposed to kill him… you…” Her voice trailed off. “Just capture.”
“Well.” It was final. It was, ‘I’ve proved my point, haven’t I?’
“I can’t do anything about this, Sark. My hands are tied.”
“No, mine are. Or they will be…”
With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
“This is the sad and frightening choice that is only yours to make, Sydney Bristow. There is nothing anyone can do to help you make it. Not anyone. Not even me, though I wish to God with all my heart that I could.”
The silence passed between them like the smooth sea refusing to notice the gray vapors billowing at the horizon.
With or without you