her dreams are made of saltwater

 

            “Oh, my god.”

            The brilliant white light in room 47 blinds her for a moment, but it quickly fades and she sees him.

            “Where am I?” she asks.

            “You’ve been here before,” Lazarey says.

            She steps inside the room and the door closes behind her. She looks down and realizes her white attire has changed to a dark business suit and she sees wisps of blonde hair over her shoulders.

            She has become Julia.

            “No.” She trembles, frightened at the sudden transformation. “No. This isn’t me.”

            “Of course it is,” Lazarey says.

            She looks back at him and she knows what she has to do. The blade is hard and heavy in her hand, but it is warm and encouraging. Lazarey turns and she makes her move: swift and precise. The blood pours out from his neck and she watches, calm and fixated on all the blood.

            “Come on, Sydney!” She drops the knife and looks for the speaker. “We have to hurry!” Someone grabs her hand and they run further into the white room.

            “Where are we going?” she asks breathlessly.

            Her partner stops and finally looks at her. Sark is dressed in gray and she sees that she is Sydney again, dressed in white with dark hair.

            “We’re already there,” Sark says.

            She looks behind Sark’s shoulder and sees herself in her old apartment with Will and Francie. She watches with sadness at their laughter and comfort. When they were all innocent and untainted. She turns back to Sark, but he says, “Not yet.” So she keeps on watching Sydney, Will and Francie until she sees the front door open and the tall dark-haired man walks in. She gasps and watches as Sydney leaps from her seat and into Danny’s arms.

            “He’s alive?” she says in disbelief.

            “We’re all alive in here,” Sark says.

             The scene drastically changes into a CIA prison cell. She walks up to the glass and stares out to the other side, into Sark’s blue eyes. He is dressed in a dark business suit and a CIA ID card is clipped to his right breast pocket. Agent Lazarey in bold black letters.

            “Hello, Sydney,” he says. “Are you ready to be prepped for questioning?” His voice is harsh and almost brittle.

            “Why am I in here?” she asks, and then she notices that she is dressed in the gray prison uniform. “What did I do?”

            “You murdered a Russian diplomat,” he says. “A man by the name of Andrian Lazarey.”

            “I didn’t murder him!”

            He narrows his eyes with discontent.

            “I didn’t murder him!” She screams now. Loud and shrill. “I’m innocent!”

            Sark raises his fist and angrily slams it through the glass, shattering it in her face.

            She wakes up next to a sleeping figure. In a bed? She moves and feels the sand beneath her. Not a bed, but a beach?

            “You’re getting a sunburn.” The figure next to her is awake now and sitting up. It’s Vaughn. He’s dressed in black swimming trucks; they match her black bikini. He touches her red skin. “You need to take care of that soon.”

            “I’m okay.” She looks towards the blue ocean. “Let’s go for a swim.”

            “I went while you were sleeping,” he says. “You go on without me.”

            She leaves him and starts towards the water. The sand is cold in between her toes. She wonders if the water is as cold.

            “Sydney, honey!” Her father waves to her, dressed in a Hawaiian print shirt and khaki shorts. “Don’t go out too far!”

            She nods and runs to the water, jumping in with a loud splash, and she swims, deeper and deeper into the huge ocean. For a moment, she feels happy and carefree. She decides to go back to the surface, knowing that her father will be worried and that Vaughn is waiting for her, but as she tries to head up, a hand grabs her ankle. She struggles, but she is pulled down into the bottomless ocean. The hand is rough and uncaring as it drags her farther and farther away from the surface. She is pulled towards the person and she is not surprised to see that it is Sark preventing her from escaping.

            “You can’t go back,” he says, but his mouth doesn’t move.

            “They need me up there,” she says, and her mouth doesn’t move either.

            “But, I need you down here, Sydney.” He grasps her wrist. “You have to stay with me.”

            “I can’t.” And she notices that even in the blue ocean, his eyes are still bluer than the water. “They need me up there.”

            So, Sark swims with her to the surface and when they break through, they are under the night sky. She looks at the beach and it is empty.

            “They didn’t wait for you,” Sark says. His mouth is moving now, his tone cold and insensitive. “They gave up.”

            “They’re waiting for me,” she says. “I know they are.”

            “Then, where are they?” With each word, his voice only becomes colder, more inconsiderate. “You’re alone.”

            “I’m not alone,” she says softly. “You’re here.”

            “But, I won’t always be.” He is still holding her wrist. “Everyone always ends up leaving.”

            “I know.” It’s the sad truth. A sad fact in her life. The water becomes motionless. “Let’s go back.”

            “Back where?” he asks.

            “From where you brought me.” She dives under the water and he follows, still holding onto her wrist, but this time more gently.

            “Sydney…” Her father is calling for her. “Sydney, can you hear me?”

            “Yes.” She blinks and she sees her father and Vaughn standing over her. She is relieved to see their faces. “You didn’t leave me. Sark said…he said you left me, that you gave up.”

            “Sark?” her father says.

            She sees the doctor and his student watching from a distance and she remembers where she is. She feels the cold metal underneath her.

            “You saw Sark in your dreams?” Vaughn asks.

            She doesn’t know how to respond. Instead, she uneasily swallows.

She tastes saltwater.

END

What does it all mean?