Chapter 2 - Images and Memories

Sydney Bristow looked up as her housemate Francie muttered something about "Joey's freaking pizza" and slammed down the phone receiver.

"Seriously, Syd," she said. "I know we say this all the time, but we really do need to change our number."

Sydney searched for what she hoped was an appropriate facial expression for this latest lie. She decided on a slight smirk, turning up one corner of her mouth and lighting her eyes.

"Aw, c'mon Francie. I think it's kind of funny," she said. "Yesterday I took some kid's order for pineapple and anchovies. He's probably still waiting for his pizza."

Francie laughed. "That's not funny. That's mean," she said, then a look of recollection crossed her face. "Hey, Will was all gung-ho about coming over tonight and watching On the Waterfront. I told him I didn't think you had work."

Francie put an artful amount of distaste in the last word, as she and Will always did. Their disgust with her job was becoming increasingly transparent.

If you only knew how much I hated it myself, Sydney mused. If you only knew of the lies and the missions and the sacrifices and the tears. Only one person besides herself knew about the tears, and she thought of Vaughn as Francie launched into a diatribe on Will's obsession with classic movies.

They had gone through a phase early in their relationship when he had asked her random personal questions. What was her favorite movie? Did she ever have pets? What did she like on her pizza? The latter had wrought laughs from both of them as the irony hit. The fact that he was interested in the more mundane, less world-saving details of her life had only served to heighten her attraction to him.

"Syd?"

"Oh...huh?"

"So, can you pry yourself away from work tonight?"

"Yeah. Hey, maybe we can even get a pizza — with pineapple and anchovies," Sydney said, eliciting a giggle and an "I don't think so" from Francie. Then, remembering the origin of their conversation, she said, "But I probably should hit the library for a little while now."

"Better watch, Syd," Francie said as Sydney picked up her backpack and moved towards the door. "Enough talk like that and you might actually graduate."

Maybe I will, Sydney thought. Maybe the CIA will get what they need from those files and I can go back to being a full-time student with a normal life.

The day she brought SD-6 down had been an evolving fantasy in Sydney's mind. At first it had featured her walking into Sloane's office and laying down the details of how she had avenged Danny's death and how he could rot in jail, or hell. Then it had been walking out of Credit Dauphine, into Vaughn's open arms, and kissing him passionately — in broad daylight. Now, she just fantasized about this quest of hers finally coming to an end, about not having to tell any more lies.

One lie bothered her more than the rest. It was the one she had started three years ago after Michael Vaughn's lips had warmed hers in that cold dark warehouse. The kiss had been brief, but long enough for her to feel the tingle travel down her spine, all the way to her feet, it seemed. But when they had pulled apart, she could see in his eyes that they were thinking the same thing.

Too dangerous.

She had paused for a second, read the reaction in his eyes, then spun on her heel and left. The clicking of her boots almost eclipsed his quiet, "Be careful." She had held it together — been the responsible spy and looked for tails — during the drive home. But when she had walked through the front door, and discovered — to her relief — that Francie wasn't there, she had burst into tears. A good cry and a few glasses of wine later, she had steeled her resolve to bury her feelings -- deny them as long as she had to. She could accept the danger to herself — it was already part of her life — but she couldn't bear to have something happen to him.

As the wine swirled her thoughts, she had been struck with the image of another bloody bathtub. It was the image she would use to push her attraction away whenever his jade eyes or lean figure stirred her. She found that the romantic feelings came less and less frequently, and eventually not at all. Vaughn was merely her friend now — her best friend, and the only one who knew the truth about her life — but just a friend nonetheless.

So she would go to meet him today, and there would be no tension. No electricity, and no spark. Just Sydney and Vaughn, hoping against hope that maybe the end of SD-6 was in sight. And wondering what, if anything, it would mean for them.