Title : Long Goodbyes
Author's Name : Pangur Bàn
Author's Email: pangurban42@yahoo.com
Fandom: Sydney/The Pretender
Rating (PG, PG13, R) G/PG
Spoilers (if any)
Summary: Sometimes a hello can help you say goodbye.

Long Goodbyes by Pangur Bàn pangurban42@yahoo.com Rating: G Summary: Sometimes a hello can help you say goodbye. (With thanks to La Lurker, whose tales are always well-placed.) Sydney arose from his desk as the woman entered, his eyes lingering on the journal article he had been reading. He was slightly annoyed at the interruption, but his demeanor betrayed nothing. Smiling, he looked up and extended his hand. “Hello, Ms. Van Walden. I’m Sydney.” “Please call me Ann.” The woman took his hand. Cold, he noted. “I appreciate your making time to see me,” she continued. “It’s my pleasure. Please, have a seat.” He indicated a chair across the desk, rather than the more comfortable sitting area off to the side. Let’s not drag this out, he thought. Returning to his chair, he took one last glance at the article in front of him as he closed the journal, sighing mentally. “So, what can I do for you? The receptionist tells me that you are a psychology student?” Annie flinched inwardly at the lie, but said smoothly, “I’ve read several of your articles. I found the one on simulations and sensory stimuli applied to problem solving techniques particularly interesting.” He nodded his thanks. “Would it be all right if I asked you a few questions about it?” she asked. “Certainly,” he said, mentally rolling his eyes. “What would you like to know?” “Firstly, this paper is several years old. Is this work ongoing?” “To a very limited extent. For the most part, those projects have concluded, although I continue to employ some of these techniques in my current work. But there are no formal studies ongoing.” “Would you care to tell me about some of your current work?” They talked for a brief time, with Sydney doing most of the speaking and his guest interjecting a few questions. After ten minutes, he sat back in his chair, folding his hands in front of his belly. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” he asked. Annie raised her eyebrows, but smiled and said, “Please.” His even, genial tone did not match his sharp eyes. “Who are you?” “Ann Van Walden,” she smiled, thinking he had tripped up on her name. “You’re not a psychology student.” It wasn’t a question. She closed her eyes briefly, then met his again, shaking her head. Sydney’s smile disappeared. “Who sent you?” He gave in to the dark mood he had been cultivating all morning. Annie blinked, trying to understand the question. “No one.” He said nothing, so she continued. “I have read several of your papers.” She smiled. “To tell the truth, I didn’t understand most of them. But I did find the paper on simulation techniques interesting.” Just interesting, not “particularly” interesting? he was tempted to say. Instead, he pursued her. “But that’s not why you came.” Another statement. She paused, reluctant to tell him what he ultimately wanted to know. “I came here to meet you.” “Why? Why the pretense?” There it was, the question falling like a blade. She steeled herself, and calmly looked directly at him. “I knew Nicholas.” Sydney’s world reeled. The wind out of his sails, he was at a loss for words. Annie waited, correctly suspecting that his thoughts were racing. She sat back in her chair, as if to make the moment less – threatening? – to him. The emotions played across his face, uninterpretable except for the naked pain. The phone had rung four months earlier. He had just finished cleaning up his dinner dishes, and was settling into his favorite leather chair with an engaging history. Michelle’s voice was hardly recognizable. An accident while hiking, she had told him. They were bringing his body home that night. Their son’s body. The next few days were only snatches of aching memories for him. By the time he had found himself back in Blue Cove, he still had not taken it all in, and now doubted he would ever remember it entirely. He accepted his coworkers’ expressions of sympathy, but largely kept his grief to himself, except for the phone calls to Michelle. Even those were brief and raw, and were happening less and less often now. The growing distance between them was preferable, being little more than an occasional dull throbbing. He dragged himself back to the woman across the desk, who sat silently, her face sad. He opened his mouth, but no words would come. He closed it again, trying to think of something to say to her. Finally he managed, “You were a friend of my son?” Not much, but something to say. She nodded. “I’m very sorry,” she said softly. Sydney’s defenses collapsed at her quiet sympathy. His face sagged with weariness. From a great distance, he heard her go on. “I lied to the receptionist. I wanted to meet you, but wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell you who I was. I thought if I could be anonymous, it might be the best…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” Annie repeated. She reached for the handbag at her feet, regretting having come. “Wait.” Sydney’s voice surprised her. The sorrow in his tone and on his face riveted her to the chair, in spite of her intention to leave. She felt responsible, if not for the son’s death all those weeks ago, then at least for the father’s pain today. Her face reluctantly turned back toward his. “Sydney, it wasn’t fair of me to come to you like this. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me…” “There was an Ann with him that day…” His voice trailed off as he searched for her answer, finding it even before she nodded. He drew a deep breath and spoke, his voice a little hoarse. “I tried to look for you… afterward… The police report gave your name as Wilton.” Annie smiled a little as he went on. “Michelle said that Nicholas had spoken of a friend named Ann, and she was under the impression that you were connected to the university somehow. But the campus had no record of an Ann Wilton as a student or on staff. I tried Walton and Wilson, with no luck. And those friends we talked to…” “Sydney, are you ready… Oh, sorry, I didn’t know…” Broots stopped in his tracks, surprised to have walked in on them. “I, uh…” he blundered as he saw his friend’s face. “What is it?” Sydney asked distractedly. “It’s just… we’re ready to go. The helicopter’s due, uh, now, and Miss Parker says that you should get your… I mean, she’ll meet us up on the pad.” Sydney nodded. “I’ll be right there.” When the newcomer did not turn immediately, the doctor added curtly, “Thank you, Broots.” “Sure. Uh, sure.” Broots understood the dismissal and left with a covert glance at the woman. This time Annie picked up her purse and got to her feet. “Sydney, I’m so sorry to have brought this all back for you.” He knocked his chair back as he got up quickly. “No, please… Listen, I have to go right now, but I want to talk to you.” It was almost a plea. She wavered. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea… “Truly, I would like to know more about… how you knew him… and…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he said, “Can I meet you this evening? Perhaps for dinner? Please.” He spoke quietly but urgently. Annie smiled tiredly. “All right.” “Where are you staying?” “The Downtowner in Milford.” “I know the place. There’s a good Greek restaurant just across the street.” “That would be fine.” “Seven o’clock? Or six-thirty? Six-thirty.” She nodded. “I’ll meet you there.” “Good. Thank you.” He walked her out of the office and left her at the elevator. “Six-thirty, then,” he said. His desperation made her a little uneasy, but she felt that she owed him at least this. ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *** He spied her seated at a table near the window. She started to rise as he approached, but he waved her back down. Sydney took her offered hand. Warmer this time, he thought, and sat down. “Does this bother you?” Annie asked, indicating the cigarette in her left hand. He shook his head, and she pointed her chin at the pack on the table. “Help yourself if you’d like.” She paused. “Sydney, I want to apologize…” The older man cut her off. “No, please. I’m glad you found me. And I appreciate your meeting me here. I want to talk to you… about Nicholas.” He gave a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Actually, I’m the one who should apologize. I was less than – hospitable – this morning.” Annie smiled at that. “If you were, I hadn’t noticed. And considering that I had lied to get in to see you, I deserved to be tossed out on my ear.” Sydney shook his head ruefully. “If you had asked one more question about my papers, I just might have.” “It was that apparent that I knew nothing about psychology?” Annie asked. “And here I spent the better part of two days on the internet to get ready!” They laughed, then Sydney sobered. Still smiling, he said, “Ann, I have so many questions for you.” She nodded. “I’m all yours.” His brown eyes dug hungrily into hers, in spite of the restraint in his voice. Doucement, he warned himself. Start slowly. Trying to sound relaxed, he stumbled slightly on the question that he had decided on the helicopter would be first, the one he had rehearsed on the short drive to the restaurant. “How did you meet my s- Nicholas?” Annie’s smile was easy and genuine. “Actually, he hit me in the nose.” Sydney tipped his head, amused and curious. “Good evening, I’m Carlo. I’ll be your waiter. How are we this evening?” Ignoring their response, he continued. “Can I bring you something to drink?” Sydney looked at his companion. “Coffee would be fine, thanks,” said Annie. Looking up at the waiter, he nodded. “Two,” he said. Carlo placed two menus on the table’s edge and left them. Conversation resumed. “He hit you?” Sydney prompted. Annie warmed to the story. “It was on campus. He was having a rather animated discussion with a colleague. I happened to be walking by when he flung out his hand to make a point. Knocked me flat.” Sydney’s eyebrows climbed toward his receding hairline. “Were you hurt?” She laughed softly. “Not badly, no. A bloody nose and a cut on the head. But you know how head wounds tend to bleed.” He nodded as she went on. “You should have seen his face. He was devastated, and scared. He brought me over to the Student Health Services right away. They cleaned me up, and put in a couple of stitches. Then they sent me to the hospital for a tetanus shot. Nick insisted on taking me himself, and waiting there with me. It turned into a three and a half hour wait in the ER - and a three and a half hour conversation. By the end of the evening, we’d become friends.” Sydney smiled in appreciation. “That’s quite a story.” Annie nodded. “I used to rib him about it.” The waiter interrupted with their coffee, and seeing the menus untouched, said he’d return shortly for their orders. “Nicholas never mentioned that story, although I can’t say I’m surprised. He did mention an Ann once or twice, though. I was thinking this afternoon – did you see a movie with him – a Chinese film?” Annie nodded. “He didn’t enjoy it, as I recall.” Sydney closed his eyes, remembering. “ ‘A chick flick is a chick flick, even in Chinese.’ ” Annie laughed. “That sounds like Nick.” “You called him Nick.” “Mm hmm. And he called me Annie. You can do the same.” Conversation paused comfortably as they sipped their coffee. It was strong and hot, and Sydney reached for the cream. “He told me about you, too,” she said. Sydney glanced up at her, spilling a splash of cream on the tablecloth. He busied himself with his napkin, his attention on her words. “He told me how he found out about you. And about getting to know you.” The Belgian’s eyes delved into hers, at once keen and apprehensive. Her eyes were gentle. “Sydney, you should know how important you were to him. A true blessing in his life. His words,” she added. He searched her face, and his shoulders relaxed as he believed her. “I wasn’t sure…” he faltered. She nodded, understanding what he was saying. “It was difficult for him when George Stamatis died. At first, he was – tentative – about approaching you. He was afraid that getting to know you might somehow distance him from his dad.” Sydney swallowed and nodded. He cleared his throat quietly and asked, “Do you know what prompted him to call me?” “I think it was his mother. Not that she forced him, or even asked him, to my knowledge. But he was very close to her. Loyal, fiercely protective. I suspect that he initially called you as a way to comfort his mother – to ease her worry about him. That didn’t last for long, though,” she continued softly. “He came to look forward to talking with you. It got to where I could tell when the two of you had spoken – he could be like a little kid, excited to tell me about you. He was glad to be getting to know you,” she concluded. Annie understood his silence for what it was: he was allowing this to sink in, like a salve. Sydney was unaware that his hands had reached for a cigarette. Annie held the flame for him, then lit one for herself. Sydney finally spoke, his words exhaled in a cloud of smoke. “Thank you for telling me that.” Annie stared at the table. “You deserve to hear this. He was a good man, Sydney. He had a good heart.” She paused, then added simply, “I miss him.” He had a sudden impulse to touch her hand. “Annie?” She looked up. “Were you in love with him?” The woman smiled gently and shook her head, a small motion. “No.” Her face was relaxed, and she continued comfortably, “We were close friends.” He waited, giving her time to say more. She obliged. “We talked a lot. Had some wonderful conversations – and some memorable arguments.” “I can imagine,” Sydney chuckled, recalling his son’s passion. He suddenly noticed the cigarette in his hand. Surprised, he started to stub it out, but paused to take another drag. It had been quite a few years since he had smoked. He grimaced at the familiar taste. They looked at each other, and each knew what was coming next. “Tell me about that day.” She began slowly, outlining the hiking trip. A dark day, but they had eventually decided to go anyway. The late start, the car trip to the trail head, only one other vehicle in the parking area. The greasy clay trail. The fall. The desperate climb down to him. Sydney watched her revisiting the day, carefully. Annie kept a close rein on her expression, but the feelings were clear. He listened to the story, letting the painful images wash over him. He knew enough of the details already, from the police report. But there was one thing that he had to hear from her. “Did he know? Did he know he was… dying?” Sydney could feel his pulse in his ears. The nod was small, but set his head spinning. He closed his eyes with an inaudible grunt. Remotely, he heard his own voice. “Was he in pain?” “Only at first. But that passed quickly. He said he was surprisingly comfortable. He knew, though. And… he didn’t want to… he asked me to stay.” Annie’s voice faltered momentarily. “We both knew. Sydney, I couldn’t leave him. I…” This time Sydney did reach for her hand, covering it with his own. Cold, each thought. “I know, Annie. I understand. The authorities told us that it wouldn’t have made a difference – I mean, medical help wouldn’t. It obviously made a difference that you were there. Annie,” he said sincerely, “I’m glad you stayed with him. I’m glad he didn’t die alone.” Annie retrieved her hand and picked up her water glass, sipping carefully, calming her choked throat. The waiter approached. “Have you decided?” he asked scornfully. “Give us a few more minutes.” Sydney’s tone was an understated command, and Carlo retreated. The doctor looked at Annie, trying to phrase his next question carefully. “Annie, I know that I don’t remember much about the funeral. But I can’t recall seeing you there.” “I wasn’t,” she said with regret. Once again, the eyebrows climbed. “The day after the accident, I got a call. My brother had been in an accident on the west coast. I left immediately.” “I hope he’s all right,” Sydney offered. Annie paused. “He died before I got there.” Sydney felt his heart grow leaden. “I’m so sorry. It must have been a very difficult time for you.” “It was a rough week, yeah.” He recognized that she did not want sympathy, and respected her privacy. He did not pursue it, but handed her a menu. Each opened the heavy gilt cardboard; neither read words in front of them. It was a prop, an excuse for a moment when neither had anything to say. Finally, Sydney tried anemically, “What looks good to you?” She glanced up and down the menu again, and said “To tell the truth, I’m not hungry. But please, go ahead.” He closed his own menu with a small smile. “Neither am I. But I could do with a walk. There’s a very nice park a few blocks from here. Would you care to join me?” She set her own menu down. “That sounds better. Yes, thank you.” Carlo returned to try one last time. “And what have we decided?” The cultured accent was no-nonsense. “We have decided that we are not staying. Could you bring us the check, please?” Sydney was irrationally gleeful at the look on the waiter’s face. Annie took note of it and tried her best to look innocent, failing miserably. “The poor man,” she laughed as he left. “I’m leaving him a generous tip. We’ve been the customers from hell.” Sydney laughed and pulled his wallet from his inside coat pocket. “Let’s not linger, then. I hate long goodbyes.” The waiter returned, dropping the check wordlessly on the table and spinning on his heel. They left the money on top of the check and stepped out into the warm evening breeze.