IMPORTANT NOTE: This story contains a spoiler from tomorrow's episode "The Box-Part 1. If you are spoiler free and wish to remain that way, then I suggest waiting to read this until after the episode. The spoiler is nothing earth-shattering, just a plot point, but I thought I'd warn everyone just in case.



Title: Emotionally Attached

Author: Steph (ILUVNYYANK@aol.com)

Category: Drama with romantic overtones

Pairings: Sydney/Vaughn

POV: Vaughn

Summary: Vaughn meets with the agency's psychiatrist to discuss his relationship with Sydney, then has the unpleasant task of informing Sydney that he may be removed as her handler.

Rating: PG

Archive: Sure, just let me know where.

Spoilers: This story includes a spoiler from tomorrow's episode "The Box- Part 1". It also includes a spoiler from the "The Reckoning" and minor details from other episodes.

Disclaimer:  Alias and its characters do not belong to me.  I do this out of a love for the show and no infringement is intended.

Note: I figured I'd write my version of Vaughn meeting with the agency's psychiatrist and it's possible repercussions before it airs tomorrow. Just something that popped into my head and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. ~Steph



* * * Emotionally Attached 1/1 * * *



I sit slumped in my chair, not making eye contact with her. I'd rather be just about anywhere else right about now.

"Agent Vaughn, as I am sure you are aware Agent Devlin requested this meeting so that we could discuss your relationship with Agent Bristow."

"I am her handler, that's as far as our relationship extends," I reply coldly.

Dr. Barnett seems undaunted by my coldness. She glances down at my file. "Agent Devlin says he is concerned that you have grown 'emotionally attached' to Agent Bristow. Is that true?"

I sigh and roll my eyes at her.

Why is it that everyone in my line of work says the words 'emotionally attached' like they are profane? Like they mean something horrendous?

What do they think I am? A robot?

Do they actually think I am capable of being devoid of feeling for a woman whose life is in my hands?

Do they actually believe I should look into her pain-filled eyes and feel nothing?

This woman has been to hell and back and she's still the strongest, most amazing person I've ever met. How exactly am I supposed to disregard that?

But I know that the CIA doesn't care about any of that. They only care that I am able to fulfill my responsibilities to the best of my ability. Anything that might interfere with that is a cause for concern.

So, I lie.

"Agent Bristow and I have a purely professional relationship. My sole concern is to help her do her job to the best of her abilities and to facilitate the destruction of SD-6."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I believe I have," I respond tersely.

She gives me a long look that I can't quite read and then decides to approach this from another angle.

She looks down at my file and then back up at me. "I see that your father was killed in the line of duty when you were eight."

My brow furrows and my eyes widen a bit in surprise.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" I spit out angrily. I am unable to control my emotions and I don't even care.

"Agent Vaughn," she says calmly, "I am simply trying to understand your frame of mind as an agent."

"My frame of mind?"

"If I am to determine whether or not I believe you have developed an emotional attachment to Agent Bristow and decide whether or not you are capable of fulfilling your responsibilities, then I am going to have to ask you some questions that you may deem irrelevant."

I shake my head and placed a hand to my brow. She allows me a few moments of peace before speaking again.

"About your father, Agent Vaughn. How do you think the death of your father has affected your performance as a handler?"

I look at her with an expression filled with contempt before replying. "Well, I try extra hard to make sure my agent doesn't come home in a pine box like my father did, Dr. Barnett."

She seems unaffected and responds coolly, "I really don't think that bitter sarcasm is going to make this any easier, Agent Vaughn."

"You asked me a question and I answered it."

She takes a deep breath, which is the first sign she's shown that her patience is wearing thin. "How did you feel when your father died?"

"How do you think I felt?" I respond, shaking my head at the inane question.

She ignores my non-answer and keeps going, "Why did you want to become an agent after your father died in the line of duty?"

I sit up a bit. "My father died serving his country. He was brave and he was a hero. Why wouldn't I want to follow in his footsteps?"

She studies me for a long moment, apparently surprised by my semi- straightforward answer.

"Do you ever fear that your actions as a handler may lead to the death of Agent Bristow?"

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "I am aware of the importance of my job and I take it seriously. I know that there are risks, but I do my best to help Agent Bristow combat them."

"Do you feel a need to keep her safe?"

I eye her, wondering what she means by the question. "Well, she isn't any good to us dead, now is she?" I reply.

"Agent Vaughn," she says with a bit of agitation in her voice.

I sigh. "Of course I feel a need to keep her safe. That's a part of my job."

"Do you believe you harbor an unnatural and inappropriate need to keep her safe?"

"What the hell does that mean?" I ask, my confusion genuine.

"Does your need to keep Agent Bristow safe ever interfere with your or her ability to do your jobs successfully? Does it ever compromise the agency's interests?"

I shake my head and I have to dig my fingernails into the arm of the chair in order to control my emotions. "If you are asking if I have ever put Agent Bristow's safety above the interests of the agency, then my answer is yes."

I can tell by her arched eyebrows that she's surprised by my answer. "So her safety is your primary concern?"

I avert my eyes. "Agent Bristow is invaluable to us. The information we gather on one mission cannot be compared with the help she can provide for us long-term. So if there's a choice between keeping her alive or completing a mission, I'll always choose to keep her alive. If we want to take down SD-6, then we need her alive and well. The completion of one mission is not worth the sacrifice."

"And your desire to keep Agent Bristow safe is completely professional in nature? It does not stem from any person feelings you may harbor for her?"

I lower my head. "That is correct."

I notice that she writes something in her notebook. I briefly consider asking her what she wrote, but know it would be to no avail.

"So you would not characterize your need to keep Agent Bristow safe as unnatural or inappropriate?"

"That is correct."

She looks up at me as she asks her next question, "Is there any chance that your need to keep Agent Bristow safe has any relationship to your father dying in the line of duty?

My eyes narrow. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

She peers at me over her reading glasses. "Do you feel a need to protect Agent Bristow so that she does not suffer the same fate as your father?"

I dig my nails deeper into the leather of the chair. "I fail to see how one has any bearing on the other."

She leans towards me and removes her glasses, "Agent Vaughn, I am suggesting that you have developed strong feelings for Agent Bristow, as you had for your father, which have resulted in an obsessive need to keep her safe."

I scoff at that. "Well, you can suggest whatever you want, but it won't make it true."

She leans back and gives me a smoldering stare. "So you don't fear being abandoned by someone you care about again? You don't fear losing someone you care for again because of this job?"

I think I've now succeeded in ripping a hole in the leather. "I resent the implication."

"Why?"

My jaw tightens. "I have already told you that my relationship with Agent Bristow is purely professional."

She smirks at me. "Yes, I know you have. Unfortunately, I was not inclined to believe you."

My brow wrinkles in surprise. "Well, I guess I really don't care what you are or are not inclined to believe, Dr. Barnett."

She smiles rather smugly, "You should. Whether or not you stay on as Agent Bristow's handler will hinge on my recommendation."

"Your recommendation?" I ask, a bit stunned, although I really shouldn't be.

"Yes."

I let out a bitter laugh, "So whether or not I stay on as Agent Bristow's handler will hinge on a recommendation from someone who talked to me for forty-five minutes, has never even seen me do my job and doesn't have a damn idea what Sydney is all about."

"Sydney?"

"What about her?" I ask agitatedly, as a run a hand across my mouth.

"You called Agent Bristow Sydney."

I feel my face flush a bit. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Well, I must have misspoken."

"I see," she says in a tone that does not indicate she believes me and makes a note on her pad.

She then stands up, walks over to me and extends her hand. "Thank you for your time, Agent Vaughn."

"That's it? We're done?"

"That's right."

I look at her uncertainly for a moment, before shaking her hand. I then stand up and head for the door. I am just about to leave when I feel the sudden need to say something to her.

Maybe it's because I realize I did not make a very good impression.

Maybe it's because I know that I am about to lose my position as Sydney's handler.

Maybe it's a misguided last-ditch effort to remain in Sydney's life.

Whatever the reason, I am unable to control the urge to say it.

"Dr. Barnett?"

"Yes?"

I lower my eyes, "Look, I'm human, okay? I can't just flip a switch and not feel anything. I don't work like that. But that doesn't make me a bad handler. If anything, I think it makes me a better one. If you want to recommend that I be removed as Agent Bristow's handler, then I can't stop you. But I'd like to think that if maybe we allowed ourselves to get emotionally attached every once in a while, we'd realize that these are people's lives we hold in our hands...That these are people with families and friends and loved ones. I can't pretend that Agent Bristow is anything less than human and deserves any less protection. I know I would have wanted my father's superiors to feel the same way."

With that, I turn on my heel and exit the room. I don't even bother to notice her reaction.

* * * *

I stand in the warehouse a few days later waiting for Sydney. She appears before too long and I simply take her in.

I'm always amazed how she can look so stunning in just jeans and a sweater.

"Hey," she says with a warm smile. "What's up?"

"Uh, hi, how are you?"

"Fine. Things are tense and a bit chaotic at SD-6 following the Cole situation, but I'm fine."

"Good, I'm glad."

She offers me a strange look. "So why did you want to see me?"

'Do I need a reason?' I think, but wisely choose not to say.

I swallow hard, "Sydney-..."

"Oh, I almost forgot," she says rather excitedly.

"Syd-...," I try to interrupt her.

"I have something for you," she says with a smile.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, but shake my head. "I can't-..."

She ignores me and pulls something out of her purse. She holds it up to me. "Here."

I study it for a moment. It's a silver guardian angel tie tack.

She smiles that smile of hers that always makes my palms sweaty. "I was shopping the other day and I saw it. It reminded me of you, for obvious reasons. So, I bought it."

I am incredibly touched, but do my best to remain stoic. I can tell she's waiting for me to take it from her, but I don't raise my hand.

"Thank you very much. It was very nice of you to think of me, but I can't-..."

Her face falls and she cuts me off again, "Oh, are tie tacks not your thing? I don't know, I guess they're not on the cutting edge of fashion, but I've always liked them on men. I understand if you don't want it."

I shake my head and silently berate myself for hurting her feelings. "It's not that, it's just...I...I might-..."

"What is it then?" she interrupts for the umpteenth time, her tone indicating confusion with a hint of worry.

I place a hand to the bridge of my nose and spit out, "If you would just stop talking and listen to me, then I might me able to tell you!"

Her mouth snaps shut and I notice her eyes flood with hurt.

I am a horse's ass. How could I speak to her like that?

I try to meet her eyes, but she does not make it easy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to speak to you like that. It's just that I have to tell you something that I am already not looking forward to telling you and you're not making it any easier."

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I'm listening now."

I place a hand to my forehead and rub at it, as I try to get up the nerve to tell her this. I swallow hard, take a deep breath and meet her eyes. "Sydney, there's a very real possibility that I am going to be removed as your handler."

Her eyes widen and she replies, "What?! Again?

I nod, "Devlin set up this meeting for me with the agency shrink to discuss our relationship." I say the last part with my eyes directed at the floor.

"Our relationship?"

"Yeah, it seems he believes I have formed an emotional attachment to you," I reply in a tone that I hope conveys that I believe the implication to be absurd.

Of course, it couldn't be more true.

"Have you?" she asks softly.

I am taken aback by her question, yet I still manage to meet her eyes. I briefly consider lying to her just as I did to Dr. Barnett, but realize that Sydney would be able to see right through my lie.

I smile slightly and try to respond in a tone that makes light of the matter and that she won't be able to completely read. "Do you even have to ask?"

Her eyes pierce mine and I have to force my gaze away. She smiles at me, "No, I guess I don't."

Damn it. I can tell from her reply that she didn't fall for my ambiguous answer for one second.

She knows just as well as I do that I've formed an emotional attachment to her.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have given her that silver frame for Christmas. I doubt that would be deemed appropriate behavior by a handler.

I wouldn't have jumped out of bed at midnight, so fast you would have thought there was a fire, because she called when her father didn't show up for dinner.

I wouldn't have wanted to take her in my arms and kiss away all of her pain that night on the pier.

I snap free of my thoughts, when I hear her voice. "So, do you think it will really happen this time?"

I nod, "Yeah, I do."

She shakes her head and I can tell she's growing angry, "This isn't right, Vaughn. I need you if I am going to help the agency take down SD- 6."

I'm flattered, but I smile and shake my head, "You don't need me, Sydney. You'd excel if there was a monkey standing in my place."

I expect her to laugh, but her face remains serious. "That's not true. I do need you. If for no other reason than I can talk to you about things that I can't talk to anyone else about. Do you think another handler's going to listen to me talk about my father or my mother? About my fears and doubts? Of course not, he'll only be concerned with what I can do for him."

I bend my head, "That's the problem, Sydney. It's not my job to talk to you about those things. I'm not supposed to do it, for reasons I am sure I have made rather clear to you today. Your handler is only supposed to be concerned with what you can do for the agency."

She shakes her head, her eyes flaring at the injustice of it all. "That's ridiculous, you know that right? I spend my whole life pretending to be someone I'm not. Smiling at people I'm there to deceive, sitting across the table from a man I despise. I lie to the people I care most about in this world. I can't help it if I want to have someone I can be completely honest with."

I sigh, "I'm sorry, Sydney."

"Maybe there's something I can do."

"I appreciate that, but considering the circumstances, I don't think it would help any this time."

Her face falls, as she realizes there are some things she can't fix. She begins softly, "So, this might be the last time I see you?"

I nod, my eyes unable to meet hers. "Yeah, probably. If I am removed, then someone else will meet with you next time."

Even though my eyes are staring at the floor, I notice her wipe at her cheek.

She then clears her throat and speaks in a tone that is completely professional, "Well, then, Agent Vaughn, it was very nice to have made your acquaintance. Thank you for your assistance and good luck in the future."

Her voice cracks at the end, although I can tell she was trying desperately to keep it from doing so.

And before I can say a word, she's gone.

I just stand there rooted to my spot for what seems like hours and wonder what I may have just lost.

* * * *

Three days later, I'm a walking zombie with a huge chip on my shoulder. I've been snapping at every person I've come in contact with and bitten the heads off those in my path.

I can't help it. I can't get her out of my head and it's driving me crazy.

Oh yeah, I'm emotionally attached.

I look up from my paperwork when I hear someone enter my office.

I groan.

Weiss.

"Hey, are you still being a giant jackass because you think you're about to get removed as Bristow's handler?"

"Bite me, Weiss."

"I told you this would happen."

I throw my pen down and glare at him. "Are you here for a reason or are you just practicing your asshole routine out on me?"

He smirks, "Actually, Devlin told me he wanted to see you. I guess he's made his decision."

My heart drops into my stomach and I think I am about to vomit. This is it.

I get up from my seat and brush past Weiss as I exit my office. I walk down to Devlin's office and enter.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

He looks up from a file he is reading and nods, "Yes, Agent Vaughn. Thank you for coming."

He pauses for a moment before continuing, "As you are aware, I was concerned that you're relationship with Agent Bristow has extended beyond purely professional and that you have developed an emotional attachment to her. I felt that this may have compromised your ability to act responsibly as her handler and may have put the interests of the agency at risk."

"Yes, sir," I reply softly.

He sighs heavily as he continues, "Well, after giving it much thought and consideration, I have decided to keep you on as Agent Bristow's handler."

My eyes widen in surprise and my jaw drops a bit. I am completely stunned.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Agent Vaughn?"

"May I ask what helped you reach this decision?"

He offers me a long look before turning his attention back to his paperwork. "Well, Agent Vaughn, I can assure you it wasn't the impression you made on Dr. Barnett."

Hm. I guess my heartfelt speech did nothing to move her. What could it have been then?

"Then what was it, sir?"

He looks up at me. "That is none of your concern. Just be satisfied with the fact that I feel that you staying on as Agent Bristow's handler is in the best interest of the agency...for now." He pauses and looks at me sternly, "However, that does not mean I am not reserving the right to remove you in the future."

I allow myself a guarded smile. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Now get out of here," he says gruffly and returns his eyes to his work.

I practically skip out of his office and all the way down the hall into mine. I can't even convey how happy and relieved I am.

Sydney and I will live to see another day.

I sit down in my chair, a broad smile crossing my lips.

I don't notice it at first, but then it catches my eyes. There's an envelope on my desk.

It piques my curiosity. There's no writing on the outside. I pick it up and briefly finger it before opening it.

I pull out a small piece of paper and read it:

You're welcome.

~Your guardian angel~

I smile and shake my head, as I realize that my stay of execution was all due to Sydney.

I was wrong, I guess there isn't anything she can't fix. Whatever she had said to Devlin had made all the difference.

I chuckle to myself, as I wonder if she put Devlin in a headlock in order to make him change his mind.

I am just about to close the envelope, when something shiny inside catches my eye. I reach in and pull out the silver guardian angel tie tack she gave me.

I grin and look at the note she's attached it to:

P.S. You forgot this.

I smile and lean back in my chair, as I allow the tie tack to roll around in my palm.

I think of her and thank God I'll be able to see her face again.

Emotionally attached?

Me?

Nah.

***************************THE END**********************************

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought. ~Steph