This is a birthday fic for my friend, Shanette. Happy birthday, even though you won't be reading this here! Set during my favourite episode, The Getaway, this is a little missing scene – Sydney gets ready for her date with Vaughn.

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Sydney shut the bathroom door behind her and laid her bag down on the counter beside one of the sinks. She was thankful that the CIA had so much influence in the world; they had explained their mission to the authorities at the French airport, and had been given a staff section of the building to use for their own purposes. It happened that this section included large staff restrooms. She locked the door, even though she knew there would be no interruptions; as usual, she was the only female agent on the mission. She took a moment to look around her, hoping that if she took her time getting ready, the army of butterflies in her stomach would get tired and settle down. The walls were painted pale pink; typical, she thought, of what women's bathrooms were supposed to look like. At the early age of ten years old, she had vowed never to have a pink room in her own house – it was just too girly for tough little Sydney Bristow. The carpet was a luxurious dark pink, and the room had an appearance of grandeur cast by the lights onto the huge mirrors, which made the space seem to be twice the size it actually was. She looked down at her bag on the immaculate surface, and moved it to the floor, feeling irrationally guilty for marring the beautiful image that the airport staff had obviously worked hard to create. The room looked more fitting for a hotel than an airport. It was certainly the nicest airport restroom she had ever been in – it was even nicer than most of the hotel bathrooms she had been in, an extensive list.

She pushed her hair behind her ears so that it was out of her way and faced herself in the mirror. She almost laughed out loud when she saw herself. She knew that she always looked awful on her missions, but this time she found it funny. Vaughn had asked her out for the first time while she looked like a complete freak! She had no idea how he had been able to look at her without laughing, let alone ask her out to dinner. She carefully removed all the jewellery she was wearing and put it back into the bag it had been in when she had been handed her disguise. She was oddly glad that she had somewhere to put it, feeling that she wouldn't be able to leave it on the counter. This room was too nice, she felt, too pleasant to be tarnished by her disguises and lies. It was so dignified, and she felt completely out of place standing in her horrible costume. She took her small makeup case out of the bag and started to remove the layers of foundation and mascara that shrouded her natural features. It took a while to come off completely, leaving her face clean and fresh, cleansed of the lies and shame of her job so that she could enjoy an honest evening with Vaughn. As she stared at herself in the mirror, watching her skin emerge slowly from behind the coat of makeup, she thought about the evening to come. She was so nervous that her hands were already shaking, even though, judging by her progress, dinner was going to be a while yet. She felt like such a teenager; her first date with Danny had been special, and exciting, but she knew that she hadn't been this nervous. Danny had always made her feel so comfortable that dating had seemed like an easy step to take. With Vaughn, it was dangerous and something that she had been craving for a long time. She had never had that with Danny; as soon as they both realised that they wanted more than friendship, they had it, but she had been denied the same thing with Vaughn for a year, and was sure that he had been denied it for longer - since the moment he met her.

Eventually, her face was completely clean. She swept the used cotton pads into her hand and dropped them into a discreet bin next to the door. She put her makeup remover away, and moved onto her clothes. Then she took off the uncomfortable costume and, folding the clothes neatly, put them back into the bag. She wanted to shove them in, screwed up, to show that she hated them, but she felt as if folding them up would help to calm her nerves. Surprisingly, it did; she was taking things slowly, and had stopped rushing to get ready. She wanted the night to go on forever, and getting ready to go out was a big part of it. More relaxed now, she got out the clothes she had brought with her. She was thankful that she had brought something that she could wear out to dinner; she had thought herself stupid for bringing a new pair of trousers and her favourite top, but now she was glad that she had. Recently, she had always made sure that she brought nice clothes on the missions where she would see Vaughn, and she breathed a sigh of relief that this one had been no exception.

She changed slowly into the clothes, then spent a while brushing her long hair. She had never been so thankful for her easy-to-manage hair, which, even after being pulled up on her head underneath a wig all day, still fell to her shoulders, absolutely dead straight. Next, she opened the makeup bag again and set to work to make herself look beautiful for Vaughn. She kept it simple; after being hidden by layers of makeup all day, the last thing she wanted was to put more on, but she knew that she couldn't go out without it. So, sticking to mascara, eyeliner and a clear lip-gloss, she made herself look as natural as she possibly could. When she was finished, she stood for a long time, just looking at her reflection in the mirror. She could hardly believe that she was getting ready to go out for dinner with Vaughn. She had fantasised about this for a year, and now it was happening. In some of those fantasies, it had even happened under similar circumstances: she and Vaughn would be on a mission, and would spontaneously decide to go out for a romantic meal in a quiet little restaurant. Of course, those fantasies never involved the rest of the team being present while he asked her, and she was never dressed in such a hideous outfit. But she was pleased with the way it had finally happened; in the fantasies, she had always known on some level that it wasn't real, but now it was, and nothing could have prepared her for the anticipation she felt.

She placed her hand on her stomach to calm the butterflies that had started up again. She hoped that she was able to relax later, because if she continued feeling this nervous all evening, she felt sure that she wouldn't be able to eat a thing. Glancing at her watch, she noticed that she had already taken a long time to get ready. She wanted the expectation of waiting to last, but she didn't want Vaughn to get fed up. She quickly picked out some jewellery to wear, and packed everything away tidily in her bag. Just as she was finishing up, there was a knock on the door, which, because of how nervous she already was, startled her more than it would have done normally.

"Syd? Are you nearly ready?" Vaughn asked quietly when she made no response to his knocking. He sounded nervous, she realised, and her heart began to beat rapidly and lightly at the thought that she made him just as nervous as he made her.

"Yeah," she answered, moving to the door and unlocking it. "You can come in. I just need to get my bag."

He opened the door cautiously, not sure of what to expect; after all, it was not everyday that one went into the ladies' restroom in an airport. For a moment, he said nothing. The beauty of the room surprised him, and because Sydney was bent down putting on her shoes with her back to him, he had a chance to look at the surroundings properly before she turned around and took his breath away. She smiled shyly, seeing him openly looking at her.

"Sydney..." he stammered. "You look...amazing."

She blushed and smiled again. "Thank you," she said, quietly and sincerely.

"Shall we go then?" he asked her happily, almost bouncing with delight at the idea of taking Sydney Bristow out to a little French restaurant.

"We shall," she quipped, with a dimpled grin. He took her hand, and together they left the room behind, not even caring that they were walking past their co-workers, hand in hand.

fin