TITLE: "Sabryn: You Were Mine" (1/1)
CATEGORY: V, Other character.
SPOILERS: My ongoing series', up to chapter three of Mikhail's Fire.
ARCHIVE: Yes please.
DISCLAIMER: Screw that! I'm hereby claiming all rights, since it's obvious to me those boobs over at FOX and 1013 don't know what the hell they're doing. At least fanfic writers treat the characters with a little dignity and respect.
SUMMARY: A journey inside of Bryn's head as the invasion begins.
NOTES: This is a product of severe writer's block...for all of you awaiting my next chapter of Mikhail's Fire, my humble apologies. Believe me, I'm just as eager to get back to it as you are, if only my stubborn muse would let me. I hope this vignette will temporarily appease.
For Shael. Thank you for the wonderful idea!
I never knew I could hate someone so much, or love someone as desperately, as I do you.
I never wanted this. Couldn't even fathom feeling this much. I was comfortable in my own little world, with my paintings, my computer, and a brother who took care of me. My parents were embarrassed by me, and I might have been lonely, but I accepted it. I made peace with myself. Until you came along and tipped my world upside down.
I still remember your face that night. The breath clouding out of your mouth, your cheeks tinted pink from the cold, your eyes blazing like green lightning between us. If I'd ever experienced it before, I would have known I loved you from the start. It only grew deeper from there.
I don't know what you saw in me, Alex. You seem to think I'm a brave, strong woman. That my brother is foolish for babying me so. I wish I could tell you how wrong you were. I may be twenty-five years old, but inside I'm still that same scared little girl, shivering in damp pajamas, clutching a battered teddy bear like a lifesaver. Funny, I gave that bear to my niece years ago...and yet, when Jolie's asleep, lying next to me, I resist the urge to grab it away and hug it tight.
Memories of my childhood are as vague as my abduction, but I can recall once being a curious child. Shy, yes, and intimidated by my much larger brother, but no one could touch me when riding on my daddy's shoulders. He loved me once. Just like you did. And just as suddenly, that love was gone.
Rather than turn your back on me in shame, you walked away under the guise of nobility. I could pretend I understand until the cows come home, but the fact remains I don't know why you left. For a moment, I wondered if I scared you away by declaring my love. I scare myself sometimes. But I know now that isn't so. I believe what you told me. My dearest friend, I will never doubt you again.
That doesn't explain why ran you halfway across the country to help a man you despise, to defeat an enemy you can't touch, and to rescue a woman you said you never loved.
It hurt me to see you go. I hated you for it, and I'll never get a chance to tell you.
There were so many things I wanted to share with the man I loved. When you don't have a lot of friends growing up, or in my case none, you have a lot of spare time to daydream. I spent those long hours in school dreaming of you. Of course, I didn't know it was you at the time. I couldn't possibly have imagined Alex Krycek in my wildest of fantasies. What I wanted was a knight in shining armor. Someone to ride in on his dark horse and carry me away to adventures unknown. Slaying dragons, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, kissing in an enchanted castle during the sunset. And you gave me all of that. Everything but the happily ever after.
I'm not stupid. I know fairytales don't exist. I know I'm not a princess, and you sure as hell aren't Prince Charming. I didn't want the real thing...I just wanted to be loved.
I'm sure you never gave a second thought to the little girls in your class that no one liked. Maybe you even picked on them, called them names. It's a lot different from the other perspective. It's hard to hide a broken heart when every other girl in class gets a Valentine and you don't. And it isn't any easier to hold back the tears when you go home at the end of the day and get ignored by the two people who should love you the most. For a long time, I hated my parents for the way they treated me. As I grew older, I vowed I would never do the same. I would love unconditionally, completely, endlessly.
I would put my heart in my hands, and hold it out, vulnerable, for all to see. Maybe that's why I was so afraid when it actually happened. I held my heart out to you, Alex. Fragile, delicate, the only gift I could give. And you walked away.
I know you think this mission is your life's work. Something you've been preparing for since you were a child. Well, you were mine.
You were glorified in my mind from the very start. Pretending you were a spy was exciting, dangerous, an adventure I craved. I wanted to believe, and in doing so I cheated myself out of knowing who you really were. It was easy to do; spies are trained to deceive. Oddly, when I learned the truth I felt betrayed. My glamorous James Bond delusions were crushed, but you never pretended to be something you weren't. Not with me. Your honesty should have shown me how vulnerable you truly were.
You'd probably laugh if you knew I thought that about you. Alex Krycek--tough as nails assassin, who'd just as soon put a bullet in a man's head as look at him--vulnerable. Yet, I suspect you're more like me than you realize. There's a tenderness there, beneath the surface, you guard like a sacred treasure. Under all those layers of cynical detachment, buried so deep not even you know how to reach it. But I've glimpsed it, and I wish....
I wish I didn't have to pretend you're dead. That I didn't have to mourn your loss, just to stifle the false hope that you might one day return. To stop looking for you in the faces of every man I pass, remind me that I've no one to count on but myself. I will build strength in your absence, as I once gained courage from your smiles.
I will remember I was loved, and learned how to live.
Years from now, when the wars have raged to their bitter end, I wonder if I'll still be alive. I have the will, the determination, but not even I can stop fate. Will I marry a strong and virile man, helping him repair what was lost, building a new place to call home, forging new life from a tenuous bond? Will I grow to love him, if not passionately, at least affectionately? Will I admit why my eyes sparkle when I look at our son, Michael? Will I ever let my husband touch me without thinking of you?
And when I'm old and gray, will he forgive me when the last word I ever whisper is your name?
But maybe, just maybe, it won't be like that at all. There is the slightest chance, a mere glimmer of hope, you might return and take me unaware. Touching my face, melting against my hands. Telling me your secrets, your dreams, whispering you love me, for my ears only.
I can almost hear you now.