harbouring a fountain of angst and frivolity.

[fenella]

Yeah, so, I scare myself sometimes. I was looking through my 'Word' documents for a specific fic that I wanted to revive/finish and instead, I found bits and pieces of things that I don't even remember writing.

Like angsty-alias-drabble-things, and Owen cross-dressing. Actually, there's almost eight pages of Owen cross-dressing.

Err, anyways, on to the drabble:

I believe that this was going to be the start of something much longer (although I can't quite remember what), with more humour than angst involved.

And also notable because it was my first atempt to write and Alias fic (that isn't a Sark crossover to TP or Tanya Huff, or Gordon Korman or, or...). You can all see how well that worked out :P

I'd saved it, quite appropriately I think, as "Jaded Syd".

<><><><>
Sydney sometimes thinks of her other lives, the ones that she might have had.

Somewhere there’s a Sydney who married Michael Vaughn, and her daughter had a father after all. This one had it all – love, family, compromise.

Except she didn’t, really.

Vaughn was always in over his head, and Sydney couldn’t be there to save the day. He’d die a few years down the line with twelve bullets in his chest all the same.

Then there’s another Sydney who walked away from it all. She lives somewhere far, far away and has nothing but an unlikely set of memories to say that never didn’t work in a bank.

There’s so many different paths that cross and mingle and Sydney thinks about them all.

In the end, it’s this one that chooses to haunt her dreams:

Books and essays, wordcounts and Yeats. She’s never been a spy, and her mother died in a crash. This Sydney married Daniel Hecht and lived in a blended world of non-fiction and fantasy.

Her younger self protests, asks about the truths that she’d never known and lives she’d never have saved. She’s old though, and jaded now. She’s uncovered far more lies than truths and she’s killed more people than she’s saved.

Sydney’s not self-righteous enough any more to think that she was on in the right side any of those times. She does, though, believe in finishing what she starts – for good or bad.

<><><><>

... maybe I'll post the cross-dressing Owen (rather, 'Milly') later.

Comments

[anait.livejournal.com]

"Vaughn was always in over his head, and Sydney couldn’t be there to save the day. He’d die a few years down the line with twelve bullets in his chest all the same."

People never give Vaughn enough credit. I don't even LIKE Vaughn. It's all J.J. Abrams' fault, with his comic-book obsession with superheroes, so Sydney has to be Wonder Woman and do it all alone, 'cause no one else is competent. So not true. Weiss & Nadia were continually shafted as well. For me, Alias was never the "Sydney show."

Where you got me was here:

"Books and essays, wordcounts and Yeats. She’s never been a spy, and her mother died in a crash. This Sydney married Daniel Hecht and lived in a blended world of non-fiction and fantasy."

You brought me back to the dorky goodness and innocence of a happy season one. And Danny. I think of it as a happy season despite the fact that her fiance was shot in a bathtub, because it was sparkling, and high-spirited, and FUN! The thought of her and Danny and a life together-- I think I might have liked her more that way.

I miss Sark. And Season One Alias. When Alias was Alias. Sigh.

[lyredenfers.livejournal.com]

Yo, I'm one of the few people that actually DOES like Vaughn. Much more, in fact, than I like Sydney. But you gotta admit, Vaughn's not exactly the brains of the operation. He's always getting himself trapped by Mueller devices and woken up with adrenaline to the heart. I mean, he'd a been alligator food more times over without Syd than Sydney would have been without him. So, from her point of view...