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Title:
She can't feel her hands
Spoilers: Season Five
Rating: G
Written for fatema in Elise2's Secret Santa.
Of the Better Late Than Never Variant: Season's Greetings to you, fatema ! I wanted to make this an Aid El Kebir gift for you but was a little late. Hope you like!
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She can't feel her hands.
Gloves, cappuccino, and a brisk pace have been insufficient defence against the January cold. Sydney longs to leave, and she will: Mission accomplished.
"Can't be -- hey ."
Her body has slipped into a fighting stance, her right hand into the purse where she knows the barrel of the Beretta is still warm (even if she can't feel it through the leather) before the voice registers. Before the face does.
He looks the same, absurdly so -- cropped hair, a windbreaker, blue eyes wide, the slope of his mouth curving into a smile both helpless and happy. It's always been easy to read him (when she bothered to try), and his reaction tells her this is a coincidence, a chance encounter. Serendipity, if she were inclined to believe in such things.
He might be, though, might at least want to. Sydney is good at playing along; that includes her friends.
"Hey." A smile, just for him, meant to dispel his worry about the sixteen rules of protocol he's currently breaking.
"So." Hope, joy, so much of it. "Wanna go for coffee?"
She thinks of her child, her father guarding her, of home.
Home.
"Yes ", Sydney says.
Prompt:
Mood--numb
"I almost didn't recognise you. I've changed a lot."
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