Charlotte * It was the rain that welcomed her first. It splashed cold and hard against her cheeks as she raced out of the motel, as she turned the corner and began to sprint down the street. The wind blew her wet hair back, and she pulled her hood back over her head only to have it whip back again. She heard his footsteps beating on the pavement behind her and as she got further and further away from the motel they only seemed to get closer. She focused on her breathing (in, out, in, out) as she passed a Laundromat, a games arcade, the diner on the other side of the street. She ran across the road, not bothering to check for cars, hearing Vaughn’s voice behind her, calling her name. “Sydney!” Shaking her head as tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, she ran down a small alleyway, past three dumpsters and a montage of peeling band posters The alley came out into a back road, and she turned left onto the slightly muddy track. Vaughn was getting closer. Sydney could hear his footsteps distinctively, hear his voice clearly, hear his breathing as he picked up his pace. “Just stop!” But she couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t stop running, wouldn’t stop trying to not fall over on the slippery path. (I’ve been going for so long now – I can’t stop. I never will.) (I’ll always run. It’s in my blood) Sydney saw a flash of green on her right and instinctively turned towards it, finding herself in a small playground behind an elementary school. She raced across the open area, some kind of playing field, and made her way to the swings, the seesaw, the monkey bars. “Syd, please…” His voice made her want to cry. She’d run so far… “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to stop!” Her own yell almost surprised her, slicing through the noise of the pouring rain, the pounding footfalls. Her legs were tired; she slowed. Reaching the sand around the playground, she slowed even more as her feet sank into the dampness. (God, Sydney, idiot much?) She jumped back out onto the grass, her breathing coming harder, her face stinging from the wind and rain. She passed the side of the painted school building, the mockingly bright colours of the wall sticking out in comparison to the grey around them. The whole school complex was like a haven of colour, of brightness, of purity… The trees were bright, the grass was wet, and she finally slipped, falling hard on her knees. Vaughn stopped next to her, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Pulling oxygen into her own lungs, she was unsurprised to find that they were breathing in unison. But there had always been an element of the dependent about them, hadn't there? Something reliant, that maybe once she thought was weak, and now was may be all she had left. The rain still falling around them, Sydney let herself break down. “Why are you doing this to me?” She looked up towards him, rain falling into her eyes, voice rising. “I’ve gotten over worse than this! I’ve been stronger… and now you just…” she shook her head and turned away, the angry tears threatening to spill. She didn’t know how long she sat there before Vaughn pulled her up, leading her the few metres to a bench by the school’s wall. He took a step back when she was seated, his eyes staring out into the trees surrounding the park-like area of the school grounds. Sydney felt herself shaking with anger and looked up at him, his face grim, the wrinkles in his forehead prominent. He seemed to notice her slight movement. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Sydney looked away, out at the seesaw. Up and down, down and up. Like her life. (So simple… so complicated) “What?” “Run.” Vaughn didn’t look at her, instead turning even further away, addressing his words to the empty playground, to the simplicity of childhood dreams and invincibility. “You should have stayed.” “You weren’t talking to me. Why should I have –” “Why was I meant to talk to you?” His voice was harsh, and Sydney watched his fists clench before he shoved them in the pockets of his leather duster. “You jumped me, Sydney. You came out of nowhere and kissed me as though… I don’t even know.” His voice stumbled over the last sentence, as though he was trying to skim over the ‘kiss’. He was bitter. Vaughn turned to her, his eyes imploring, tired, resigned. “How did you expect me to react?” She glanced up at him, and then away again, back to staring at the seesaw, the slide. He shook his head and looked ready to move away again before Sydney spoke. “How do you think I expected you to react, Vaughn?” She glanced at him as he dropped his head. She continued, watching his jaw clench, “What’s the usual reaction?” He smirked as he turned to her once again. “God, Sydney. I’m not stupid. I just don’t… I just don’t understand.” “What, they didn’t give detailed instructions in the agent and handler section of the CIA handbook?” She glared at him, her (grey) eyes boring into him as he flinched, his face changing from questioning to angry. “After everything, you’d think you would be more grateful.” He shook his head in disbelief, gaining momentum with each word, pulling his hands from his pockets. “Instead, you’re being the bitch and bringing up everything that you left behind. You, Sydney.” His eyes were cold, hard. “No-one but you.” Her head dropped as he sighed in frustration and then continued. “I just don’t know how you think you have the right to be so pissed off about everything.” Vaughn was angrier than she’d realised. (God, I wish he was the same as he used to be. Smile, wrinkle, reassure. Why did he have to change so much?) “You’re always like this. You think I’m just going to smile and make you feel better. The thing is, I’m not.” She could feel his eyes burning into her, and she tried not to cringe. “I’m sick of all this shit, Sydney. All of it.” He glared at her for a second more before he turned away again, running his hands through his wet hair. Sydney found her voice. “I’m pissed off because – yet again – I’m running. Going through this bullshit of an existence. I’ve been doing it forever, Vaughn. All I want now is to disappear, to have a life, to live – but you’re leading me nowhere.” She stared at the back of his head, at his tensed shoulders. Her next words were quieter, “I just want something in my life to be real.” Vaughn’s head jerked towards her at the familiar words of long ago promises, questions, threats. He shook his head in wonder, one side of his mouth curving up slightly. “You’re never going to get it, are you?” He stared at her for a minute longer, then stepped closer to her and leaned down, his face inches from hers. She almost winced, but refused to back down at the fire in his eyes. “This is what you have to do – what I have to do. I don’t mean to sound like an inconsiderate bastard, but right now, it’s true. You don’t come with me, you can die right here, in this city. In this playground.” He waved one arm in the direction of the slide, turning away for a split second. “You come with me, we can get you somewhere. True, we have to run a little longer, but we’ll get to the right place. And when we get there, you can leave. Go wherever you want. You can go to Germany if you’re desperate.” He looked down for a second. “But until we get there, you’re just going to have to trust me.” Sydney looked into his eyes, at the drained and exhausted greens and hazels, and hesitated. She looked down, and he sighed and moved away. “Fine.” He stood there for a second longer, the rain hitting his jacket, his hair, his face, and then turned and walked away. She thought. The playground mocked her; it’s simple lines and curves reminding her of how much she loved the swings when she was young. How she was sure that if she pushed just a little bit harder, she’d go flying up over the bar, into the sky. She’d soar. Reaching puberty hadn’t helped. (Then I just thought that everything would be easy.) And it had, to a certain point: the point at which she’d realised things weren’t going to be served to her on a silver platter for the rest of her life. Then she’d started becoming someone else. The wigs, the clothes, the masks, the disguises. It had made her feel different, confident – like she could do anything if she was someone else. She could hide easier if no one knew who she was, and all Sydney really wanted was to disappear, to live her own life, to not have to worry about being pursued. And she realised now why she’d run from Vaughn. She’s been so scared – so unsure – of him, of her, of the both of them. Something had convinced her that she was better on her own. (Maybe the fact that I’ve always been alone.) She was used to it. She couldn’t be easily surprised with herself, by her own thoughts. But Vaughn… Vaughn was different. He never ceased to surprise her, to change her views on things (on things like life). And that uncertainty was what drew her to him and pushed her away from him at the same time. Running had always seemed natural. The faster and the further you run, the more (time, space, thought) you give yourself. Running from Vaughn had seemed like the only thing she could do. (If I run fast enough, I can get anywhere. Even away from him.) But it hadn’t worked. She’d run, to somewhere he wasn’t meant to find her (a place for Elizabeths. Not Vaughns), and yet he had. He’d come after her, even though she’d treated him like crap, and when the realisation of how pathetic she’d been hit her, her head jerked up. “How did you find me here?” Vaughn stopped. She watched him as he turned around, biting his lip as he thought of the answer to the question. He looked up at her, his head slightly tilted, the green of his eyes heightened by the foliage surrounding them. “I guessed.” He shrugged, and Sydney furrowed her eyebrows. “You guessed? How do you guess something like that?” Vaughn glanced away again, looking at everything and nothing. “I picked up the map and just… knew.” His eyes turned on her, and he shrugged again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Seemed logical.” Sydney nodded. Vaughn turned away, walking through the rain to the far side of the playing field, his steps determined but tired. Sydney considered for all of a minute before standing and practically sprinting to his side. He barely acknowledged her presence, and she almost grinned at the man he’d become. (Did he try to become this aloof? Or did it just come naturally?) She tightened her soaked jacket closer to her body, thankful it wasn't pneumonia season. “I’m sorry.” She looked at him after she uttered the words quietly, and he nodded, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You should be.” * The conversation was… nonexistent. (So what else is new?) Vaughn was at the wheel of the car, the radio on but turned down so low you'd be forgiven for thinking its slow mumble emanated elsewhere, and Sydney was trying to sleep. It was definitely not happening. They were en route to Charlotte – where Vaughn was meant to contact Weiss – in the Mazda, a cramped car where Sydney had no legroom. (Whatever. Go to sleep.) She sighed, her eyes still closed. They’d passed through Raleigh and Greensboro, stopping in both, and were now close to where they were meant to be. They’d picked up food, clothes… Susan had simply smiled knowingly when ‘Virginia’ had returned to the motel to pick up her bags. She’d raised an eyebrow when she’d spotted Vaughn standing awkwardly at the door, and then smiled shyly at Sydney before leaning towards her and whispering, “I like him.” Sydney had almost burst out laughing at the comment, but had allowed herself a small grin instead. The look on Susan’s face – motherly, almost – had been priceless. Sydney and Vaughn had left the motel quickly, Susan trying to hide her sadness at their departure. Sydney hoped the small surprise she’d left in her now-unoccupied room cheered her up. The car slowed, and Sydney opened one eye lazily, glancing out the window. Buildings. (Which means we’re…somewhere.) She closed her eye again, pretending to sleep (I still can’t talk to him… but I want to talk to him) as Vaughn turned and the car bumped over the gutter. They drove slowly for a minute more, and then Vaughn parked the car, turned off the ignition. Sydney waited for him to move, to wake her up, to open the car door and then slam it when he got out. But there was nothing. She could hear him breathing quietly in the stillness as the engine settled, and could almost feel him watching her closely, chest rising and falling (in, out, in, out) under the guise of slumber. There was nothing for another moment, and then, the lightest of touches on her cheek, brushing against the skin. She stayed still, feeling her heartbeat quicken when his fingers didn’t move, continuing to caress her cheek, her hair. His touch (so small) was so much. Every part of her focused on the slight contact, on the warmth, on the spark; on the realisation that she wanted more. (So, so much more.) And then it was gone. His fingers left her face quickly (no, come back, I want you), almost as if he’d jerked away, and she heard the car door open and close, lightly so as not to startle her. And then there was silence. (Why is this happening? Why can’t I just… it’s Vaughn. It’s Vaughn.) Sydney let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding (did he notice?) and opened her eyes, quickly looking around for Vaughn. She saw him retreating, cell phone to ear, heading across the street to the left of the parking lot they were in. He disappeared from her line of sight, and Sydney took in the surroundings. (Grey buildings. Streets. Parking lot. Kiosk.) She spotted the booth across the street on her right, about fifty yards down the road, and her brow knitted in determination. (That’s what I need. Gum, a magazine… a distraction.) (Oh God, how I need something to keep my mind off everything.) She grabbed her backpack from the floor and opened the car door, stepping into the wall of cold air. The clouds above Charlotte were pale, ready to either sprinkle with rain or scatter and show the sun. Sydney had changed in Raleigh, stepping into a dingy diner restroom, into a pair of black pants and a burgundy turtleneck, throwing a heavy (stolen) woollen coat on top. She was warm as she crossed the street, walking along the pavement and around to the counter, where she stood behind a tall man buying cigarettes, wearing gritty jeans and a flannelette shirt. Stereotypical. (He smells of bars and prostitutes.) She shook her head slightly, trying to think less morosely. The short man behind the counter was counting out change as she glanced at his oxford shirt and the small sticker that bore the scribbled name Brian, and then she tuned her thoughts back into the tall man in front of her. (Pick something else. He smells like cigarettes. That’s a good start. He also smells like –) The man turned, cigarettes in hand, and his foul breath hit Sydney in the face. He scowled as he crashed into her, his eyes flashing. “Get the fuck out of my way, girlie.” Sydney raised her eyebrows, her body tensing in anticipation (I’ll kick your ass), her fists clenching as her feet moved into a fighter’s stance. And then she realised what she was doing, Looked into the man’s face, at his snarl, and told herself that she couldn’t take him down, no matter how much she wanted to. She stood aside, eyes dropping to the gum-stained pavement, a “sorry” escaping her lips, barely above a whisper. The man snorted and lumbered off, leaving Sydney feeling worthless. (Bar. And prostitutes, dammit.) Sydney moved up to the counter, and the short man smiled at her apologetically. “I’m sorry. He’s always like that.” He shrugged. “The man’s a regular. I don’t like to admit it, but it’s Jack that keeps me in business selling cigarettes.” Sydney’s chest constricted at the name. (Jack. Daddy.) She stepped back as she felt herself losing balance, her foot hitting the pavement, making her knee lock and reminding her to use her leg muscles. The man leaned forward worriedly. “Are you okay, miss?” Sydney nodded, then smiled faintly to prove her point. (I’m so fake.) She stepped up closer, glancing towards the back of the small boxed-in kiosk at the magazine racks. “What would you like?” ‘Brian’ asked. “Uh… sorry, I’m just deciding.” Sydney tried to smile wider, and was thankful when the man’s cell phone rang. He flushed and then, picking it up, glanced worriedly at Sydney. “I’m sorry. I’ll just be a moment.” He turned away slightly, and then started to talk through the cell. Sydney was surprised when the language wasn’t English (Dutch. He didn’t have an accent…) and she hid a grin when she realised she understood snippets of what he was saying. He was arguing with his mother. Rain started to drizzle slightly, and Sydney sighed, trying to decide between Cleo and Cosmopolitan. Brian continued talking, and from random snatches Sydney figured out he was telling his mother he had a customer. She hid a grin. A few minutes later, Sydney had decided, and Brian was apologising profusely. Sydney shook her head. “That’s okay,” she smiled. “No harm done.” (At least it’s true for once.) The man breathed a sigh of relief, then spoke again. “So, have you decided what you’d like?” Sydney nodded as she told him her choice – “the Cosmopolitan, please” – and smiled again as he took down the magazine and the chewing gum, and Sydney paid him with a quiet “thankyou”. She started across the street, and glanced up towards the car when she reached the parking lot, surprised by what she saw. There was now a black Audi parked a space away from the Mazda, but that wasn’t all Sydney noticed. She noticed Vaughn, sitting on the hood of the Mazda, his head in his hands as he ran his fingers (God, those fingers) through his hair. He looked lost and unsure, and she became slightly nervous as she strode faster. She stepped closer as the drizzling rain fell on her shoulders, calling quietly. “Vaughn?” His head jerked up, and his expression changed from loss to relief when he saw it was her. He stood, smiling slightly as he approached, and she was sure she heard him say “Thank God” quietly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Thank God for what?” Sydney asked. Vaughn didn’t meet her eyes. “I was worried…” he trailed off as he gestured towards the car, towards her, and Sydney realised what he’d been worried about. “You thought I’d left again.” Vaughn bit his lip, and Sydney watched the movement, not stirring. (He’s not denying it. And why should he? I’ve been such a bitch…) “Yeah.” Vaughn replied. He shrugged as his features hardened. “I did, actually.” Sydney shook her head. (He has the right. I ran away from him… twice… he has the right to be suspicious.) She closed her eyes, then opened them again and looked Vaughn in the eye. “It’s okay,” she said, shrugging, and then, more quietly, “I deserve it.” He looked guilty for a long moment, staring off into space, and she could feel him closing himself off from her again. There was a minute of silence (is golden), and then he spoke. “I put the boxes in the Audi.” Sydney glanced over at the black sedan. The windows were tinted (darkest legal tint), and the car was clean. “You stole that car in less than five minutes?” Sydney looked at Vaughn pointedly. “Wow. Now I feel like I’m losing my touch.” (I have lost my touch.) “Actually, no,” Vaughn confessed, biting his lip again. (Do that again, and I’ll have to bite it myself) “Weiss had a team leave it around the corner, earlier today. Key was under the wheel, and I just threw the boxes in.” Sydney almost smirked, then asked, “Why don’t they just take us out of here instead of making us run?” “They want us in a safe house.” Vaughn replied. “That’s all.” “Yeah, because the last one was really safe,” Sydney spat out sarcastically. She almost cringed when he winced, looking away from her. (Oh. Right. Lawrenceville. Idiot.) She sighed. “So where are we going?” “Miami.” “Miami?” Sydney looked at Vaughn. “They couldn’t have one earlier? In Atlanta? Greenville? Chattanooga, for fuck’s sake?” She was wildly calculating how far it was to Miami. “Miami’s hundreds of miles away! It’s at least two days… plus we have to rest, and…” she broke off, frustrated, waving her arms through the air in pointless gestures to match her irritation. “Sydney, this isn’t the time to–” he broke off, listening to something in the distance and then glancing up at the sky. “Shit.” He jumped off the hood and walked to the driver’s side of the car quickly, glaring at Sydney as he did so. “Get in. Quick.” "What?" Sydney asked, complying when he didn't respond immediately, but determined to get an answer, "What's happening?" “They’re here.” Sydney slammed the door shut as her heart stopped. “No, they’re not.” (They can’t be. I would have heard them… right?) She shook her head as Vaughn started the car, pulled out. “What about the Audi?” “Don’t worry about it.” “But all our stuff–” Sydney stopped, spotting the Lincolns at the other side of the parking lot. “Okay. Never mind. Let’s go.” Vaughn swung the Mazda out into the street, speeding past the early-morning joggers, shop owners, people walking their dogs. The Lincolns pulled out into the street behind them, and Sydney started to get scared. “How’d you know they were coming?” she asked. She quickly thought back to Lawrenceville. “I thought you said you had bad hearing.” “I heard tire squeals,” Vaughn shrugged. “Didn’t you?” Sydney shook her head, annoyed at the lack of detail in his answer. (Shit, Vaughn, just give me something to work with.) The car was cooler than it had been earlier and as Vaughn turned left, heading out of the city, Sydney wrapped her arms around herself, wondering whether he could get them out of this. “All our stuff’s in the Audi.” She said again, pestering him over the loss of all their supplies as he turned another corner because she couldn't think of anything else to say. She watched his face as he rolled his eyes and glanced in the rear view mirror. “I know that, Syd.” “We needed that stuff,” she continued, aggravated by his lack of reaction. “I know that too.” (Sarcasm. Fantastic.) “Then why the fuck didn’t we take the Audi?” Vaughn’s eyebrows rose slightly as he turned to her at her outburst. “Because we don’t want them following the Audi. We want them following us now, and we can get the Audi later.” He was so calm, so diplomatic. (And I’m hysterical. Perfect.) “How?” Sydney asked, agitated and pissed off. “We’re trying to get out of here, Vaughn. How are we meant to–” Vaughn interrupted her, swearing, as another SUV pulled out into the street right in front of them, heading straight into their headlights. “I hate this.” Sydney looked over at Vaughn as he said the words, at the determined look in his face as he swerved around the Lincoln and then back onto the road. “No arguments there.” She glanced behind them, at the armada of black chrome and metal, and shook her head in disbelief. “Vaughn, there’s like six of them. You really think you can get out of this?” Vaughn gritted his jaw before replying. “Undo your seatbelt.” Sydney paused. “What?” “Undo your–” “I heard you,” she interrupted, “I just don’t… why?” “You’re getting out.” Sydney raised her eyebrows in scepticism. “Excuse me?” “You’re ge–” “Stop repeating everything!” Sydney exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. (Breathe, Sydney, breathe.) “Sorry.” Vaughn apologised. “But you’re getting out. Think you can find your way back to the Audi?” “Why?” Sydney asked, drawing out the word as the car turned again. “Because you’re going to get it and meet me somewhere.” “What kind of somewhere?” (This is not good.) “Atlanta.” “Atlanta?” "Would you just listen?" Vaughn glanced in the rear view again, his eyes tired. Sydney stopped arguing. “Okay. That’s what, four hours away?” she asked. Vaughn nodded. “Good. I’ll meet you at the first motel on the right side of the road at ten-thirty this morning. That sound decent?” Vaughn nodded again. “Great. Drop me off somewhere along here, then.” Vaughn was silent as he sped up and around a few corners to get out of sight of the Lincolns before he pulled over to the side of the road. Sydney sighed as the car halted, and she put her hand on the door handle. “Till ten-thirty.” She opened the door, ready to get out, when Vaughn grabbed her hand. She turned back, staring into his eyes, and then his hand was at the back of her neck as he pulled her close and covered her lips with his. She froze for a split second before kissing him back, his mouth strong and forceful against hers, his hand weaving into her hair for a single moment. She barely had time to register before he pulled away, his heavier breathing matching hers as she fluttered open her eyes. “Go,” he said softly, looking out through the windshield. She paused, her heart pounding, her legs out the door. “Vaughn–” “Go,” he repeated, his eyes turning to her sharply, the jade commanding. She nodded, sliding out of the car and into the morning. She ran around the side of the car into the trees at the side of the road, looking back once. Just in time to see his eyes before he sped off. (Oh, God) She turned back into the trees, closing her eyes for a moment as she ran through branches, her feet quiet over the rust-coloured pine needles on the ground. She couldn’t focus, her feet melting into the ground melding into the trees and one thing becoming everything else. (Vaughn) * > Atlanta < Elizabeth City » babblings » home » mail?