Title: Running

Email: princess_watermelon

Feedback: :) My first fic – I want to know whether anyone actually likes it. So, yes please!

Distribution: Go ahead. But please – tell me where. A short email with "Hi! Your fic's here!" will be fine. Go for it :)

Credits: Kat – thank you sooo much for being kind enough to beta read this over and over… You are my saviour. I'd also like to say thanks to Rach for liking this, and to anyone else who actually enjoyed it and told me – or told anyone else – about it. Made my day :)

Disclaimer: Blah blah, definitely not mine – Alias and its characters belong to the ABC and Touchstone, and are masterful creations of J.J. Abrams and Bad Robot. There is no way I am getting any money from this WHATSOEVER, so please, don't sue. There's nothing for me to give. *sighs*

Summary: Sydney's left LA. After almost two years, she finds herself almost back where she started. (Not as boring as it sounds. Really. I just can't summarize.)

Rating: I'm guessing about PG-13 for some bad language – not much, though. That's pretty much it for now.

Classification: Action/Adventure, Drama, with a lot more angst to come. Give it time.

Sydney's breathing came in short gasps that matched the steady rhythm of her boots against the concrete. But the beat only went as far as to compound her stupidity as she raced around the corner. She should have believed him when he said 'They' were getting close – really close. That one night in one city was enough. But she'd said no. "No," she'd smiled. "We have to stay one more day. Just one more." So they had.

They'd visited Disney World. They'd gone to the rambling house that was Ripley's Believe It or Not under delusions that they'd be okay. Not perfectly safe. They never were. But at least slightly. They'd covered their tracks so *well*…

A tear slipped from Sydney's eye as she sped to the front of the bed and breakfast. /Where is he?/ Her head turned to both sides, looking for him, for the car, for hope. Orlando was just as humid as she'd been promised, and she wished she wasn't wearing a sweater, wished she could take it off, wished she could stop.

She kept running.

She was close to the road now. The long road, but she could sprint for miles if she had to. She had no qualms about it whatsoever. But she wasn't going to leave without him. If only she knew where he'd gone –

"Stop," someone growled, and Sydney heard the arming of automatic weapons all around her. The men stepped out from the fake foliage of the little rainforest garden by the gate, all in black military wear, and Sydney stopped running.

"Nice sprint, Bristow," one of the men spat out. "Too bad it was your last," he snickered.

"How original." Sydney smirked. It wasn't the best response she could come up with, but sarcasm felt like her only weapon. She knew she was beyond help. Finished. Dead. There was no way in hell she was getting out of this.

She looked up at the sky, a velvety midnight blue above her, fading to purple and peach to her left. The stars laughed at her as they started to disappear, and Sydney cursed herself again, wishing she knew where he was.

"Come on," she whispered to herself. But, looking around, she knew there was no escape from this. None.

It was over.

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