TITLE: Tension
AUTHOR: Valerina
FEEDBACK: Yes please! Loved it, hated it, let me know. Valerina719@hotmail.com
CLASSIFICATION: VSR, angst
SUMMARY: Sydney and Vaughn realize they've got issues.
SPOILERS: None specific, slight "The Prophecy"
DISCLAIMER: JJ, sweet JJ...I'm sad to say that "Alias" is not mine. If I had to say whose it was I would go with JJ Abrams, "Bad Robot," and ABC. But that's just a guess :)
DISTRIBUTION: Credit Dauphine, Alias Fan Fiction Archive. Anyone else, please feel free but let me know so I can come visit it!
RATED: R (for a tiny bit of potty mouth)
TIMELINE: okay, so work with me--The Prophecy did happen, but this story works as if Sydney proved herself innocent without declaring her mother alive. Okay? So to recap--Syd's mom is still dead. Great!
NOTE: all of the French in this story was provided by an online translator, so if you speak French I apologize now. For those of you (like me) who took Spanish instead, there is a translation for those lines located all the way at the bottom of the page. Enjoy!
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Chinese Embassy
London, England
Sydney Bristow leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms above her head, trying to find any comfort she could in the cramped SD-6 issue van. In front of her were 8 monitors, all showing various rooms and hallways inside the Chinese Embassy. Her earpiece crackled with static as Dixon began speaking. She quickly flipped a switch on the console in front of her, effectively changing their frequency and allowing her to hear Dixon clearly.
"Sydney, I'm inside the main ballroom but I have yet to make a visual ID of our contact."
Sydney scanned the monitors before her. Hundreds of people wandered through the rooms, drinks in hand and making small talk, always wondering if there was someone more important in the next room. Sydney caught sight of Lord Geoffrey Longbotten in the conservatory and conveyed his position to Dixon before yawning.
To think that she usually envied Dixon, sitting in the van and keeping surveillance while she perfected her ability to run in 4-inch heels. She attempted to rise out of the chair but only succeeded in knocking her head against the roof.
"Damn it," she muttered, rubbing her head. What she wouldn't give to be in a slinky dress and heels and enjoying the party right about now. She smiled to herself—that was something she never thought she'd say.
"Dixon, how do you do this? I can barely turn around in here," she asked her partner as she checked on his progress towards the conservatory on the monitors.
His low chuckle came through the earpiece. "Very carefully, Syd. You can't have all the party fun. Oh, I see Lord Longbotten over by the balcony. As soon as I get what we came for I'll show you how to move around that van."
Sydney leaned back in her chair, enjoying the levity between herself and her partner. It had been a hard couple of months and they were both enjoying an "easy" mission. She kept her eye on Dixon, who was talking with Longbotten. As they slowly moved away from the crowd their light conversation gave way to the real reason they were both at the party that night.
"I have the disk right here," said Longbotten, smoothly motioning to his breast pocket. "I can't give it to you in the building—I've heard too much about the surveillance cameras. If anyone were to see me giving you this…" his voice trailed off.
Sydney frowned. This was not how the exchange was supposed to go down.
"Dixon, if you think it's safe, suggest that you go out on the balcony—there won't be any cameras there, but we'll still maintain radio contact. Just give me a signal if it goes south."
Dixon nodded almost imperceptibly and mentioned to Longbotten that they step outside to complete their business. Sydney followed their movements until they were out of camera range. She listened intently to make sure that everything was happening smoothly.
"Thank you, Lord Longbotten, and please accept this gift from a grateful paaaaa…" Dixon's voice faded and Sydney heard a loud thump. She grabbed for the microphone.
"Dixon? DIXON!? Answer me—what's going on out there?" There was no answer to her question, only a muffled sound.
A voice laughed and a moment later Sydney winced as the screech of Dixon's transmitter being destroyed reached her ears. She whirled around and threw open the van door, racing out into the night. Under the cover of darkness and the foliage that lined the outer perimeter of the Embassy she was able to make it undetected to the side of the building where the balcony was located.
"Damn it, damn it…" she kept up this whispered mantra as she made her way up the trellis onto the balcony. There was no one there, and no sign of a struggle. She kneeled down, looking for any trace of her partner. Nothing. This was not supposed to happen--not tonight, not on this mission.
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2 Days Earlier
Los Angeles, CA
Michael Vaughn pulled up to the warehouse that was beginning to feel, of all things, comfortable. He got out of his car and checked for any sign that he had been followed before entering. She was already there, perched on the edge of the desk and flipping through a worn copy of The Sun Also Rises.
Sydney looked up at the sound of his shoes against the concrete floor and smiled sheepishly, her dimples appearing. "I'm sorry…I have a paper due and—"
"It's okay." He entered the fenced-in room that had served as their meeting place so many times before. "I remember what it was like to be a student, many, many years ago." His own dimples made a quick appearance. Vaughn took his place across from her, standing up and leaning against the chain link fence wall.
Sydney closed her book and slipped it into her backpack, which she had propped up against the bottom corner of the desk. She chuckled softly at Vaughn's comment and was compelled to respond to it. After a few days off and a seemingly simple mission coming up, she felt uncharacteristically playful.
Because she remained on the desk edge, she had to lift her head up to make eye contact with Vaughn. Looking up at him through her lashes she was hit with the realization that she was flirting. This thought was enough to momentarily keep her brain from coming up with a witty comment to throw back at Vaughn.
He took her pause to mean that she wanted to get straight to their business, so he broached the subject first. "What does Sloane have planned for you this time?"
A little saddened by the abrupt change in subject, Sydney replied. "It seems like a simple enough mission—Dixon is the point man, leaving me to do video surveillance. Our contact is Lord Geoffrey Longbotten and we will meet up with him the day after tomorrow at the first gala to celebrate the Chinese New Year thrown by the Chinese Embassy in London. SD-6 has promised him $20,000 in exchange for a disk of information."
Vaughn leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak. Sydney smiled slightly and cut him off. "And before you ask, no, I don't know what's on that disk—Sloane wouldn't let that bit of information out. He just said that it's important."
Vaughn stood in silence for a moment. "Hmm…what do we know about this Lord?"
"He's from an old aristocratic family who still have their title but none of their wealth. It looks like he's just doing it for the money."
Vaughn's forehead crinkled in thought. "What ties could he possibly have that would interest SD-6?" he asked her.
Sydney shrugged. She bent at the waist to fiddle with the strap of her sandal, her hair becoming a glossy curtain obscuring her face. "I just figured that whatever is so important to Sloane should be important to the CIA."
Momentarily distracted by the figure in front of him, Vaughn remained silent. Sydney snapped back up, shaking her head to get her hair out of her face.
"Don't you think?"
Vaughn cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to a spot, any spot, that was not her figure stretched out in front of him.
"Absolutely. Just be sure Dixon hands the disk off to you for 'safekeeping' and take the opportunity to make a copy. When you get back we'll set up a drop time."
The two agents sat more or less comfortably in silence for a few moments, neither one wanting to be the one to end their meeting. Finally Vaughn spoke up.
"So, if you 're going to be in London, that's the same city as De Hems. That's my favorite pub in the world."
Their eyes met and they shared a shy smile, both remembering a time not so long ago in which the wistful possibility of an authentic Italian dinner gave way to the sad acceptance of the reality of their lives.
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Vaughn left the meeting with the same pent-up feelings that plagued him almost every time he saw Sydney Bristow. Any psychiatrist would have a field day with the number and variety of emotions that swirled in him connected to that one woman, much less the CIA-appointed one who was concerned about a Christmas gift, of all things. She intrigued him and inspired wonder in him; he wanted to hold her close and comfort her when she felt down; he wanted everything from life he could possibly have with her, the things that he used to believe he wanted with Alice. Did he love her, after less than a year of knowing her? Probably. It made him sick.
He was her handler. Nothing more. Sure, they shared a smile now and then, a joke or two. There had been some comfort touching and a lot of emotions revealed. There was jealousy (at least on his part) and admiration. They had worked together under pressure and proved that they were a damn good team. Did his feelings for her affect him? You bet your ass they did. Was he a better handler to her because of them? Same answer.
At the root of his swirling emotions was that little nugget of truth, the one that threatened to burst their happy little agent/handler bubble if they ever chose to truly examine it. His life had been altered in the worst way, all because of the woman who had given Sydney life. That little nugget was always there—it was always between them. He wanted her, wanted her emotionally and physically, and wanted to protect her from anything that hurt her. He wanted so many things…but most of all he wanted to not love the woman whose mother had killed his father so many years ago. It made him sick. He got in his car and drove home to an empty house.
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Sydney left the meeting deep in thought. She had really started looking forward to these clandestine meetings as if they were a social event and not a necessary step to ensure her survival. Driving home to meet her friends simply reminded her of the new set of lies she would have to think up in order to explain away her absence for the last hour. Was it another work-related meeting, or had she used that excuse one too many times? She could always go with the tried and true library excuse—after all, she actually had her backpack with her this time.
Should she fabricate a secret lover to placate Francie, who had been pushing more and more frequently for her to "get a life?" At least she would have someone in mind to describe to Francie. As Sydney started up her car and pulled out onto the main road, her thoughts turned to her handler. Danny's engagement ring lay safely in her jewelry box, ever since her ritual with Francie, and yet her finger still felt naked without it. She had loved Danny, hadn't she? Wanted to marry him? It wasn't right to feel something, anything, for another man after what had happened to him. It made her sick.
Developing feelings for Vaughn was dangerous and stupid…and she knew it. When you threw two people into a tension-filled situation for an extended period of time, feelings will develop. Any Psych 100 course would teach you that. Had she simply latched on to Vaughn because he was there? Her mind brought up dozens of moments from the last 7 months, dozens of pictures that illustrated their deepening relationship. Soft touches, hesitant embraces, innocent and not so innocent comments. At the pier, at a newsstand, in the very warehouse she had just left—all these places had become bookmarks in their story.
She still couldn't believe her own audacity when inviting Vaughn to a hockey game. She had all but asked him to play another, more personal role in her life. Of course, his admission that he wanted to play that role didn't help much. How could she play her part of a mourner when the thought of the dimple in his chin, the way he crushed her to his chest to protect her when their bomb went off in the Vatican, and the way his eyes darkened and his jaw tightened whenever she mentioned Will, all caused her to forget about the diamond ring hidden away? It made her sick. She turned into her driveway, and even though she saw lights on through the windows of her house, felt alone.
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London
Sydney searched every bit of the balcony for any evidence of what had happened to her partner but came up empty-handed. She wasn't equipped to join the party. Neither she nor Dixon had felt it necessary for her to be ready to exit the van, hence her black top and pants. Completely suitable for sitting and surveying and possibly running away on foot but not exactly a high fashion choice for an embassy party. She had no choice but to get back to the van and try to figure out what had happened. Before she left the balcony she pulled out her cell phone and stared at it. She wasn't sure who to call…should she call Sloane and risk his decision to leave Dixon in England? Call the CIA and risk her own cover (and life) to save him? She shook her head and called the only person she could think to help her—she called Michael Vaughn.
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Los Angeles
Halfway around the world Vaughn lay sound asleep in his queen-sized bed, still occupying only the left side. Apparently, even after many months of sleeping alone, his unconscious had yet to realize it. His eyelids fluttered with dream as the shrill ring of his cell phone broke the silence. He sat up in bed, the interruption to his sleep immediate and unwelcome. He groaned and stretched his arms over his head towards the bedside table where his cell phone was plugged in, charging for the night. The caller ID showed only "Wireless Caller," but he recognized the number. His heart seized in his chest as he realized something major must have happened for Sydney to call his cell.
"Vaughn," he answered tersely, steeling himself for bad news.
"Oh my god, Vaughn, they've got Dixon…I don't know where, who, what happened—what am I going to do?"
"Where are you staying?" he asked her, grabbing in the dark for the pen and paper he knew was on the table. He quickly scribbled down the hotel name she gave him. "Are you there now?…Get there and stay there. I'm on my way."
Vaughn pushed the "end" button on his cell phone and groped for the light switch, shielding his eyes against the harsh brightness. He grabbed his passport and wallet from the drawer in his bedside table and began to get his things together for his unplanned, and no doubt unsanctioned by the CIA, trip.
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London
Vaughn spent most of the flight on his laptop, using every bit of information that Sydney had given him about this mission to try and figure out what had happened to Dixon. He thought he had a viable scenario when he stepped off the plane into the bustling corridors of Heathrow Airport. He turned his theory over and over in his mind as he walked into the London Underground and took the tube to the Holborn station. He had gotten to the point where he was ready to present his ideas to Sydney when he got off of the Underground and walked the small distance down Southampton Row to the Grange Holborn Hotel.
Vaughn knocked softly on her door, quickly sweeping his eyes down the hallway to his right and his left, making sure he wasn't being observed. He heard the soft snick of the lock being turned and pushed open the door slowly. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned to face her, expecting a ball of energy and passion to come hurtling toward him, throwing ideas at him before he could even say "hello." What he did not expect was the sight that greeted him.
Sydney sat on the bed Indian-style, the comforter pulled around her like a shawl. She was staring into space. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and her face betrayed no expression at all.
Slowly Vaughn moved toward her. "Sydney," he said softly, his voice deep and hoarse from 11 straight hours on a plane. He ended up in front of her, kneeling directly below her on the floor and looking up into her face. "Sydney," he urged again.
She blinked at him and simply said, "This is all my fault."
Vaughn brought his hands up to rest on her knees. He applied subtle pressure to get her attention. "Syd—this was not your fault. You can't blame yourself for Dixon being taken."
"You're wrong—I can. It was my fault. I was so happy to finally be rid of that stupid prophecy and so I didn't worry about this mission…" she trailed off, sighing in frustration.
"Jesus, Syd, you did everything you could possibly do to prepare for this mission. You and Dixon knew the case, knew your roles, you were ready. Do not do this to yourself—let's just concentrate on where he might be so that we can save him. I think I was able to narrow down the possibilities on the flight over here."
She looked up in interest. Finally, he thought, there's a spark. The two of them poured over different intel that Vaughn had amassed while struggling to both stay awake and avoid in-flight movie Freddie Got Fingered during his transatlantic flight.
Finally, several hours and two calls to room service later, they had both come to a conclusion that they believed was the most probable. After digging into Lord Longbotten's past they had discovered ties to a Hong Kong Consortium that specialized in biotechnology. Apparently whatever information he was selling to SD-6 was more valuable than they had been led to believe.
Morning and afternoon had already come and gone, and they were slowly creeping towards evening. The bedside clock read 4:15. Vaughn had already passed through exhaustion and was now bordering on collapse, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him and leaning against the side of the bed to keep himself upright. While Sydney was in the bathroom he took the opportunity to rub his eyes with the back of his hand and arched his back in an effort to stretch some of the kinks out. Glancing once more at the closed bathroom door he forced himself to stand and then immediately lowered himself onto the bed. Just one second, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and promptly fell into a deep sleep.
Sydney opened the bathroom door and walked into the room. Her eyes caught on the figure of Vaughn stretched out on the full-sized mattress, his shirtsleeves folded up at the elbows and his pants wrinkled beyond any dry cleaner's help. She smiled slightly at his peaceful expression. It made her a little sad realizing that the only time either of them could get any peace was in their sleep. She stood there for a while just watching him before reclining on the couch in the other room.
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Vaughn's internal clock awakened him around 8pm, a time that was conducive to their plan. Soft light from the streetlights filtered in through the curtains and let in enough illumination for Vaughn to barely make out Sydney's stretched out form on the couch. He stretched on the bed and slowly got to his feet.
He walked softly across the room, not wanting to wake her until absolutely necessary. Her hair was spread like a fan on the pillow and her legs were tucked under her body in the fetal position. He reached down to softly brush a few strands of hair off of her forehead. She started to move under his touch and he quickly removed his hand. For some reason he didn't want her to wake up under his touch. Not now, not yet.
She blinked her eyes and realization slowly dawned on her face as her eyes darted around the room and finally settled on Vaughn standing above her. Remembering where she was, Sydney pulled herself up quickly and threw a glance towards the bedside clock. "Oh my god, what time is it? We've got to get—"
"It's okay, Sydney, we're right on schedule." He interrupted her smoothly, not wanting to get her excited. If they were going to extract Dixon then he wanted them both to be calm and completely ready.
She got up from the couch and self-consciously smoothed a hand through her hair, trying for a semblance of professionalism. He smiled wryly at her and mimicked her movements by tentatively checking on the status of his own bed head. They exchanged an embarrassed look and both went off in search of their respective gear for the mission. Ten minutes and one awkward "you take the bathroom first, no you take the bathroom" conversation later they were ready to storm the Chinese Embassy walls. So to speak.
The Chinese New Year was certainly something to celebrate, and the Embassy did it in grand style. Another night, another party. Sydney stepped out of the hotel bathroom in the party dress and shoes that she had been so glad to give up the night before.
Vaughn stopped trying to tie his bowtie for the tenth time and gave her an appreciative glance. He swallowed. "Well, you look really pretty." He mentally kicked himself as the words left his mouth, but the compliment had the same effect on her this time as it had a couple of months back when he had offered it to her before she left for Sloane's dinner party: she blushed.
"Thanks and, um, you look pretty dashing yourself. Except for…this." Sydney strode over to him and seriously invaded his personal space. He swallowed hard again as her hands came within inches of his mouth, grasping the ends of the tie that he had been struggling with. Within seconds she had the task completed, and he had to admit it was one of the prettier ties he had seen, and he told her so.
Sydney's dimples made a lengthy appearance as she thanked Vaughn for his compliment. "Well, you don't think James Bond ever tied his own ties, do you? It was always the spy behind the spy."
Vaughn chuckled appreciatively, his husky laugh enticing her dimples to stay a little longer. The two made eye contact and for a few brief moments it looked quite possible that they were about to kiss. The tension between them was thicker than the London fog outside the window and it was almost as if a magnet was slowly drawing their mouths towards one another.
Neither one of them let their gaze falter until Vaughn shifted his eyes downward towards her mouth as one is wont to do when kissing. It broke the tension between them and they both stepped back simultaneously in some odd parody of dance. Not knowing what to say, the two agents grabbed their coats and headed out of the room, intent on making their mission a success regardless of what had just (almost) happened between them.
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Two well-dressed attractive people hardly make a wave at a festive celebration involving much alcohol and joviality and so Sydney and Vaughn had no trouble playing the part of a pretty French couple, blending in with the rest of the international partygoers at the Embassy. They had decided on French aliases, counting on both Vaughn's comfort with the language and the fact that no one seemed to suspect the French of anything.
After studying the floor plans and blueprints they were able to locate online it seemed a strong possibility that Dixon was still in the building. The plan was simple—enjoy the party for a while to avoid drawing attention to themselves and quickly slip away to the part of the Embassy that wasn't on the guided tour.
The amount of care and planning that had gone into their mission that night was nothing compared to the precautions they took while dancing. Vaughn was careful not to place his hand too far down her back and Sydney took pains to refrain from leaning into him as they danced. It employed tactical maneuvers all its own.
Finally, after "enjoying" the party for a little over an hour they slowly made their way to one of the back staircases. Servants cleared paths around the couple, only worrying about the trays of champagne they were gripping. Sydney suddenly recalled Longbotten's comments regarding the surveillance cameras in the embassy.
She grabbed Vaughn's hand. "You're going to have to trust me with this, okay?" Without really waiting for his nod of assent she pulled his arm so that his body crashed into hers and they began what looked like a drunken mating dance down the hallway.
"Ah, mon amour. Ma passion pour vous brûle blanc chaud. M'embrasser, m'embrasser! Vous êtes mon amour, ma vie,"* she said loudly and with just enough drunken fervor to fool the passing servants, who flew by them clutching their trays of glasses while making sure to keep their eyes peeled to the two French lovebirds. She put her mouth against his neck, kissing him loudly and wetly as her lips made their way from his chin down to the hollow of his throat.
"Syd, you have got to be kidding me," he snorted into her ear softly, laughing at her choice of words. He was worried he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. But, he rose to the challenge as a true Frenchman would.
"Oh, comment vous me tentez, vous la belle femme de diable. Est-ce que vous ne serez jamais satisfait? Vous sera la mort de me, vous fou, magnifique déesse! Je dois vous avoir maintenant!"** His hands made their way down her body and clutched her towards his chest. His heartbeat quickened but he ignored it, choosing to play the part and not allow the part to play him.
As they had been talking they were swiftly moving towards a semi-hidden stairwell that they believed headed towards the sub-levels of the Embassy. By appearing like a horny couple just looking for a place to lie down they should be able to stay off of the security guards' radar.
Sydney flirtatiously led Vaughn over to the wall next to the stairwell. He grabbed a wrist in each hand and pushed her up against the wall. She was taken by surprise and let out a surprised gasp.
"C'mon, Syd, we're almost there," he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose.
"Mon amour pour vous êtes immeasurable. Vous avez volé mon coeur la première fois j'ai placé des yeux sur vous et vous've l'a gardé depuis. Je réveille chaque matin qui espère vous et moi voir le trésor chaque moment que nous avons ensemble,"*** he continued loudly, still keeping his body pressed up against Sydney's.
Almost as an afterthought he added, "Même quand je peux't vous regarde même,"**** speaking into her ear. Her eyes met his and she smiled slightly. They stood there suspended in the moment before she threw her arms around him and tugged him down the stairs.
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Dropping the pretense of lovers quickly, the two agents headed down the stairs into what looked like another maze of doors, hallways, and stairs. Their research had prepared them for this, however, and Sydney led the way through the twists to a doorway marked "Storage." According to their intel this door opened to the anteroom of the observation room. Not expecting any guards, she quickly opened the door and they both slipped inside.
Thankfully, the entranceway was empty of any Consortium agents. They heard voices coming from the next room and prepared a diversion. Slipping back into their French personas, Sydney began speaking in English with a thick French accent. She didn't want to overestimate the guards' intelligence and speak a language they could perceive a threat in not understanding.
"Kiss me, my love. We are finally alone, no?" She pulled Vaughn to her and grabbed the back of his neck with her hand. As she was drawing down his face to hers a man appeared in the doorway that led to the surveillance room.
"What are you doing here? This is a restricted area—you must leave at once!"
"What? Ze sign said storage…I just wanted a place to be alone with mon bel amour. Hee hee…alone, comprend?" Vaughn wagged his eyebrows suggestively at the enemy agent, squeezing Sydney closer to him.
The man sighed and rolls his eyes. He began to walk towards them with his arms outstretched. "I'm sorry, but this is not a place for you two to be alone. There's a hotel right down the road—I suggest you try there." With his arms he started to push them towards the door and back out into the hallway.
Sydney grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back. As he struggled for breath she straddled him. Crouching low to his face so not to be overheard, Sydney asked, "How many more of you are in there?…Tell me!" She grabbed his shirt and shook him for the information.
Wheezing, the man indicated that there was only one more agent keeping an eye on the screens. Sydney knocked him out with a blow to the head and she and Vaughn crept silently towards the room. The other agent was sitting in a chair facing the screens. Rather than waste time interrogating him Sydney simply disposed of any threat he posed and laid him unconscious on the floor. As always, Vaughn was impressed, and a little freaked out, by the ease with which she handled herself in the field. He supposed that sitting behind a desk most days didn't exactly make him a good partner for her during their little missions, but he figured that everything would go smoothly if he just followed her lead and stayed out of her way.
As they looked around the room the scope of Longbotten's comment hit them full force. There were at least 50 different screens throughout the room, covering every conceivable angle and part of the Embassy. Sydney immediately went to work trying to spot Dixon. After a minute or two of scanning the screens she exclaimed, "I got him!"
Vaughn came over to stand next to her and fixed his eyes on the screen she was pointing to. It certainly looked like Dixon, although he didn't look too good. He was sitting in a chair with his hands behind his back. Vaughn couldn't tell if they were tied, but he certainly didn't know anyone who found that position comfortable. He squinted at the screen.
"Who is that next to him?" he asked Sydney.
"Oh my god—that's Longbotten. From the way he's sitting I'd say it's a safe bet he wasn't in on the attack."
"Shit," Vaughn said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "that throws off the plan just a little bit."
"C'mon, Vaughn, you're not up for a little challenge?" Sydney asked him with a daredevil smile, her comment belying the tension they both felt.
Vaughn shrugged and he gave her a wry smile. "It's your show, Syd, I'm just along for the ride."
"Then let's go." Sydney took one last look at the monitor and tried to decipher where Dixon and Longbotten were being held. According to the labels above some of the monitors it was located in SB4. She automatically assumed it stood for Sub-Basement 4. In her mind she accessed the blueprints of the Embassy that they had studied earlier in the day. There should be an elevator down the hall that would lead to all the sub-levels, and from there she just needed to find Dixon and get him and Longbotten out.
Vaughn simply stood there and watched Sydney work it out in her mind. He was completely in awe of her abilities when it came to things like this, and he hadn't been kidding earlier when he said that he was only there for the ride. He wanted to make sure Sydney was safe and that she didn't put herself in any unnecessary danger, but he didn't delude himself that he would be of any real help to her. Plus, it wasn't as if Dixon could see him working with Sydney on his rescue—he was relegated to a behind-the- scenes role anyway.
Vaughn watched as Sydney raced out of the surveillance room, wishing he could do more but knowing that there was no way they could risk Dixon seeing him working with Sydney. It would blow her cover and wreck everything they had been working towards for nearly the past year.
Sydney's voice came through his earpiece. "I'm almost through the last hallway on this level—Dixon should be in the next to last door."
Vaughn kept his eyes peeled to the monitor that showed Dixon and Longbotten still sitting in their respective chairs.
"I'm through!" Sydney's voice exclaimed in his ear. Unfortunately his eyes told him otherwise. The scene he was staring at was exactly the same as it had been moments before.
"Shit—they're not here! Where the hell am I?" she asked Vaughn.
"Hold on, I'm looking," he murmured back, quickly scanning the other monitors trying to find her among them. "Gotcha…you're in a room labeled 'RDP.' Syd, there's no one else in there but I have no idea where you're located. You're three monitors over from where Dixon is, if that means anything to you."
"Okay, I don't think I'm too far off from where I need to be. I'll just…fuck!"
Vaughn checked her out on the monitor. She was standing at the door but seemed to be having trouble opening it.
"Jesus," Syd's voice buzzed in his ear, "my international spy union card is going to be taken away if I can't get this damn door open." The amusing words didn't quite mask the mounting frustration in her voice.
"Look, don't break down the door…it might go against our whole 'Let's not let anyone know we're here' mission. I'll come and open the door for you."
"Neat—you'll be my knight in shining Armani. Just go out the door…are you out the door?"
"Yes, Syd, I'm out the door," he replied in mild exasperation.
"Okay, turn right and walk down the hallway quickly…you'll see a door on the left marked 'Stairs' and that's exactly what they are. Take them 2 flights down…open the door and go out into the hallway. Turn left and go to the third door on the right. That's me."
Vaughn followed her directions and soon found himself in front of the door. He opened it quickly. He was surprised when he met resistance and even more surprised when he heard Sydney's exclamation of pain.
He peered into the room and saw Sydney bent at the waist, one palm pressed against her forehead.
"Oh my god, Sydney, are you okay? I didn't mean to…" he rushed forward to try to help her.
"The door!" she yelled, reaching out and pointing with the hand that wasn't clutching her forehead in pain.
"Caught it!" he exclaimed in triumph, his foot bent behind him and wedged between the doorframe and the door.
"Good catch." She smiled at him and then winced at the pain it caused.
"Syd, I really am sorry…"
"It's okay. I knew there couldn't be a mission I didn't come back from with a bruise."
He smiled sheepishly at her and turned to hold the door open for her. Just as she stepped through the doorway the lights went out in the hallway and the room. Several red "emergency" lights came on, casting their surroundings in a slightly eerie ruby glow. An ear piercing alarm began to shriek and they heard men shouting in Chinese.
"Shit," muttered Sydney and she whirled around and shoved Vaughn back into the room. The door slammed shut behind them.
Vaughn stumbled into the room but managed to remain on his feet. Sydney put a finger to her lips and mouthed "shh." She positioned herself by the side of the door, ready to surprise any agents that came through. Vaughn took a stance diagonal from Sydney, in front of a chair that was set up in the room. They tensed themselves, ready for a fight.
For five minutes they stayed in silence poised for an enemy that never came through the door.
Finally Sydney sank to the floor, keeping her back against the wall and her feet out in front of her. Vaughn took her cue and sank into the chair he had been positioned in front of, turning it around so he could face Sydney. They could still hear some activity in the hallway—mainly people running and some shouting in Chinese.
"Y'know, Syd, my Chinese is pretty rusty but I think Dixon got himself out of this mess. I'm picking up the words 'prisoners' or 'captives' or something like that and 'leave.'" Vaughn said quietly but with a slight smile. "Looks like Dixon didn't need CIA help to get him out of trouble."
Sydney caught his eye and smirked back. "Haven't you figured out yet that I don't need your help? I just want to get your ass out of that comfy chair it sits in all day."
Vaughn gave a low appreciative chuckle. He sighed. "So, how are you and I going to get out of this mess?"
Sydney shrugged her shoulders and took a brief look around the room. In the odd red light it was harder to make the details out. She squinted a little and began biting her bottom lip as she surveyed what was in the room and what they had to work with.
Vaughn watched her intently, loving the way he got to see the thoughts play out across her face as she tried to formulate a plan to get them out of there. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, no matter how hard he tried. There was a little bit of danger in him paying so much attention to her face but he just didn't care.
"Okay," Sydney started, "if we wait a while for everything to calm down I think our best shot is to climb up into the air vent and take that back up to the surveillance level. From there we can just continue our 'French lover' routine to get back up to the party and out of here."
"Sounds good." Vaughn nodded his agreement and she smiled, looking pretty pleased with herself.
"Okay, well, how to you want to pass the time? I play a mean game of tic- tac-toe…"
Vaughn grimaced, remembering one too many transatlantic flights as a child with that infernal game as his only source of amusement. "No way…what about Hangman?"
Sydney giggled. "You've got to be kidding me. The last time I did that was with Francie when our cable went out a few months ago. You'd think that candlelight would have made it at least a little more interesting, but no."
Vaughn let out a slightly exasperated sigh. "Well, I don't baby-sit as much as I used to…but, you're practically a child yourself—why don't you pick?" He smirked at her.
She sucked in her breath in mock astonishment. "You're making fun of my age, old man? Fine…that just proves my point about old guys not knowing how to have fun. It's just like I told Will last week, if you guys don't have a beer in your hand you wouldn't know a good time from a hole in the ground," she shot back, giggling.
At the mention of Will's name Vaughn felt himself tighten up. It was an automatic reaction and not one that he was proud of. He had to get past it—it wasn't as if he had a right to be jealous. He forced a small laugh out in time with hers and hoped she didn't catch the slight change in his attitude.
Well, Sydney thought to herself, that was a mistake. After how many months she should have realized that any mention of Will would bring down the temperature of this room a few degrees. Shit, her mind screamed, new topic, new topic!
"Well, uh, what games did you play as a kid? Something tells me you were quite the spin-the-bottler." She raised her eyebrows suggestively at him, which brought back a smile.
"You have no idea what spin-the-bottle does to insecure teenage boys. You girls have it so easy because every boy wants to kiss. It doesn't matter who to them, but no girl wants to get stuck kissing 'that awkward-looking boy.' I'm still getting over it."
Sydney widened her eyes in a parody of shock and disbelief. "You, an awkward teenager? No! I don't believe it!"
"Jerk," he muttered under his breath as he tossed a ball of lint he found in his pants pocket at her.
She batted the lint ball out of the air. Their eyes met and they simultaneously nodded and gave a drawn out "Wowwww," as if they were at a baseball game and were impressed with an outfielder's catch. They shared a smile and their eyes met.
They sat in an awkward moment of silence before Vaughn cast his eyes downward as he literally twiddled his thumbs.
"Y'know, Vaughn, I'm having a really fun time with you."
"You thought you wouldn't?" he questioned her as he let his attention wander from his moving thumbs back to her.
"No, it's just that we're not allowed to do this," she explained. "It's not as if I can ask you about spin-the-bottle when I'm facing in the other direction at a newsstand, pretending not to notice you standing there."
"So you notice me?"
"Vaughn…" she sounded exasperated, "you're missing my point."
"You had a point?"
"I'm gonna kill you…" she threatened, but with a smile. "So, since I might never get the chance again, tell me about your spin-the-bottle past."
"Okay," Vaughn relented. "Just remember that you asked to be bored out of your mind. This is not a torture devised for you, okay?"
Sydney nodded her assent and he proceeded to tell her all about his spin- the-bottle days.
By the end of his third story she was wiping tears from the corner of her eyes.
"Oh god," she managed to her in between snorts of laughter, "please tell me that didn't leave a stain!"
"Uh, no comment," Vaughn replied innocently.
Sydney let out another peal of laughter. "Oh man, didn't your father ever tell you to keep your mouth closed during that part?" She giggled as she asked him a question that, deep down, she already knew the answer to.
Vaughn cleared his throat softly and took a second as he seemingly searched for the right words to say. "Um…no, he, I mean…we never had that conversation before…well, I was kind of young, and, well…we just never had it."
He kept his eyes trained on the wall above Sydney's head while he spoke and finally, for the briefest of moments, met her eyes before shifting his attention once again to the hands folded in his lap.
The change in Sydney's demeanor was not immediate. It took her a few seconds to fully comprehend what he was trying to say without actually saying it.
She sucked in a breath before attempting to speak. "Vaughn," she said with wide eyes, "I am so sorry. I didn't realize what I was asking and I can't believe I just-"
Vaughn interrupted her. "Sydney, it's not your fault, don't worry about it, okay?"
Sydney shook her head. "No, just listen—I'm just, I'm sorry, and I just didn't make the connection-"
Vaughn broke in again. He raised his eyes to hers and said forcefully, "Damn it, Sydney—stop! It's not your fault.
"But I can't help feeling like I need to apologize—"
"Well stop it! There's nothing you can do about it, okay? It's over and done with and your mother is dead and my father is dead. That just leaves you and me to deal with it, okay?" His voice grew louder as he kept talking, practically shouting out the word "okay." "Jesus," he muttered, "just stop."
Throughout his speech Sydney braced herself to keep her emotions in check, her eyes slowly welling up, and she forced herself to keep it inside. By the time he got to "okay" she was ready to let a few tears fall as she accepted the truth of his words. However, when his voice dropped along with his eyes, she snapped. All of the anger she had been directing at herself for feeling the way she did and at him for making her feel that way came to the surface.
"Oh shut up Vaughn! You're not the only one who gets to decide how we deal with this, okay? Don't tell me how I should feel!" She threw back at him, challenging him with her eyes.
He rose to the bait. "How the fuck do you think you have the right, the right, to apologize away your mother's actions?" His voice was quiet but hard as he pushed her. He got to his feet and began walking away from her. After a few steps he turned back to her.
"You can't erase 23 years of my having to deal with this with two little words that you throw me like a bone to a dog."
Sydney scrambled to her feet so that she could face him on equal ground. There were only 8 feet apart but that didn't stop her from raising her voice at him.
"Fuck you, Vaughn! You know what I had to go through when I learned the truth about my mother, and then to learn that she killed your father…your father of all people! The only person I can even talk to anymore, the only man who I don't have to lie to…so fuck you! The only thing I can do for you is apologize. It's the only thing I can do to make it right between us."
The volume of her words steadily decreased until she was back to a normal speaking tone. She stared at Vaughn, looking to him for a clue as to how this conversation was going to proceed.
He brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose, his palm stretched out partially over his face, obscuring it from Sydney's line of vision. He seemed to be struggling with what to say next. In the space of a moment their future was decided.
Vaughn came back at Sydney full force. "Oh spare me, Syd," he practically spit out at her, "I am so sick of you taking the world's weight on your shoulders! Your mother is dead; you shouldn't have to atone for her sins. It's. Not. Your. Fault. None of this is your fault, understand? Week after week we meet and you cry about whatever event you're currently feeling guilty about and I let you. I let you take the responsibility for it, and I'm fucking done! Do you hear me?"
With this he crossed the number of feet separating them and stopped right in front of her, grabbing a wrist in each of his hands and holding them above her head as he pushed her up against the wall, a twisted caricature of the pose they had struck earlier as "lovers." He leaned in until his face was mere inches from hers and said softly, but still with all of the anger he had displayed since they started, "Do you hear me? I'm not doing it anymore."
Sydney waited a split second before wrenching free her right hand from his wrist and taking the opportunity to elbow Vaughn in the stomach. He was caught off guard and she took the opportunity to stomp on his instep, leaving him doubled over in pain and clutching his left foot. She breathed hard, pushing her hair out of her face.
"You're telling me that you can't do this anymore? You have got to be kidding me! What would you even do without me? Hell, you'd still be a junior agent, running around doing Haladki's bullshit work while the rest of us are out there saving the goddamned world," she snarled at him, all but baring her teeth as the rage poured from her.
Recovering from her attack, Vaughn stayed in a crouched position as she paced back and forth in front of him. She stopped moving and turned to face him, her head tilted down so that she could make eye contact with him. His expression was one of disbelief and anger; hers simply displayed rage. She stopped her verbal assault for a moment, sizing him up. He continued to stay crouched low to the ground, balancing on one hand pressed to the ground between his legs, his head lifted up so that he could watch her.
"C'mon Vaughn," Sydney taunted him, "it hasn't been that long since agent training…prove to me that you have what it takes."
Vaughn narrowed his eyes and slowly got to his feet. "Do you want to do this, Sydney?" he asked her, his voice hard. He took off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it onto the chair. He began to roll up his sleeves. "Then we'll do this. If this is what will get you off your high horse then I'm happy to help out."
Sydney barked out a short laugh. "I'd love to see you try." With this she came at him, throwing a punch at his face. He sidestepped her fist and pushed Sydney in the back. She twisted her body around in a spin kick but he ducked and grabbed her foot out of the air.
She wrenched her foot out of his grasp. "What," Vaughn snarled as he dodged another blow, "you can save the world but you can't kick the ass of some desk-jockey agent?"
Sydney's fist connected with Vaughn's cheek. He spun around with the force of her blow before countering with his own. It missed the target but glanced off her lip, leaving a bloody trail down her chin. She brought her hand up to her lip and pulled it away covered in red.
"Son of a…" She redoubled her efforts and launched herself at Vaughn's midsection. She took him down and he hit the floor with enough force to knock his breath out. She tried to straddle him but he squirmed out from under her. She reached for him with a clawed hand, leaving scratch marks down the side of his neck.
"Are you done apologizing?" Vaughn spit out at her as he climbed to his feet. Sydney jumped up and narrowed her eyes as she plotted her next move.
"Why do I even bother? [kick] Things could never be right between us [punch]," she said through clenched teeth.
"If you think that then it never will be—you can let another relationship slip through your [jab, block, jab] fingers," he yelled.
"I hate you!" she practically screamed at him, throwing herself at him full force.
"I hate the way you listen; I hate the way you comfort me; I hate the fact that it's you who I want to talk to before I go to sleep. Damn it, Vaughn, it's not supposed to be you!" She was all over him now, clawing, slapping, elbowing.
"Join the club," Vaughn seethed bitterly. "I hate you too. I hate that I remember who your mother was at the worst moments; I hate the fact that I have to wait for a phone call to learn whether or not you're still alive; I hate that hearing the name Will now makes me homicidal; I hate that one day I have to tell my mother about you and break her heart all over again." He gave as good as he got—arms flying at her body, pulling at her hair, nails clawing at her—as they rolled around on the floor.
Finally Vaughn grabbed a hold of Sydney's hair, right behind her neck. She was above him with her legs trying to gain leverage so that she could get up. As Vaughn's hand closed around her hair she gasped in pain. He held her head at an angle and the two stayed like that in the quiet room, the only sound their heavy breathing.
Sydney tired to get her head out of Vaughn's grip but only winced in pain when his hand did not yield. He stared into her eyes for a moment before his grip on her had tightened and he pulled her mouth down to his in one smooth motion. Her lips were hot on his and it only took a second before his tongue found its way inside her mouth.
The kiss was long and dark and wet and deep, and it seemed to go on forever. Eventually they pulled apart and Vaughn kept his hand on the back of her head, although his touch was much different this time around.
He stared into her eyes and whispered, "I hate that you're the only woman in the world who can make me feel like this, and it was your mother who was responsible for my family's grief. I hate that I've fallen in love with you, and it's so dangerous, so dangerous, but there's no hope of getting out of it." He stared at her, not moving a muscle.
She blinked several times before whispering back, "I hate that you're not Danny, and I hate that what I feel for you makes my feelings for Danny seem unimportant. I hate thinking that his death made it possible for me to meet you."
Vaughn blinked back tears as his hand caressed the side of Sydney's face. "Do you realize," he began with a small smile, "how much had to happen to get us here today, like this?"
"Yeah," Sydney said, realizing the scope of his statement even as she agreed with it.
"The chance that I would be there the day you walked into the CIA with that hair…"
Sydney smiled. "That awful pink hair!"
"And all of our history that we never knew we had," he continued. "What the hell are the chances of that?"
"So Danny, your father, my mother—they're all just part of the puzzle? I don't know if I can buy that," Sydney said, pulling herself off of Vaughn and sitting Indian-style with her back to him.
She could hear him moving around and wasn't surprised to find him sitting right behind her, his chest barely touching her back.
"Syd," he spoke softly in her ear, "we can't pretend the past didn't happen. Those events are a part of us and they make us who we are. It's up to us to decide if we're going to let these events define us or if we're going to move past them. I've already made my decision and now you've gotta make yours."
She nodded in silence.
"In the meantime, we better get out of here before Dixon starts planning a rescue mission for you."
The two agents got up and brushed themselves off. Quite frankly they were a mess. Vaughn's hair was tousled and standing up in every conceivable direction while Sydney's was a tangled mass of knots. Both had scratch marks on their arms and necks, Sydney's mouth was caked with drying blood and Vaughn had the makings of a pretty good shiner.
Vaughn raked his eyes over Sydney's form, trying to assess the damage done. He tentatively reached over and cupped her face in his palm, using his fingers to smooth her hair behind her ear.
Her eyes met his and she brought her own hand up and placed it over his. After a moment she moved her hands to his collar, fixing the upturned corners. They took turns going over each other's body, trying to put back together what their "discussion" had set askew.
Vaughn retrieved his tuxedo jacket from the chair that he had thrown it on, and began to put it back on. Sydney moved towards the air vent and stood on a nearby chair to force it open. She turned to Vaughn and said simply, "Follow me," before disappearing into the shaft above. Vaughn had no choice but to follow her.
Surprisingly they didn't have much trouble slipping back into the party. Without speaking to each other they made it outside of the Embassy and headed back towards the hotel. They walked the distance in silence.
As the hotel building appeared in the distance Vaughn suddenly stopped and grabbed Sydney's arm. She stopped mid-stride and turned to face him. Her expression seemed distant yet she was still attentive to Vaughn's words.
"Sydney, we can't go in there together. Hopefully Dixon is there waiting for you and I don't want to risk it."
Sydney nodded mutely.
Vaughn continued, "Go ahead and I'll follow behind you in 10 minutes. I have my cell phone and I want you to call me when everything is settled. Or if there's a problem, or…if you just need to talk. Okay, Syd? Call me."
Sydney gave him a small smile. "I will," she said softly and headed off towards their hotel. Vaughn watched her walk off, his heart heavy.
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Sydney walked into the hotel with thoughts swirling through her mind. She couldn't seem to focus on any one thing—it was all just a myriad of emotions and images. The ones she kept coming back to were finding Danny in that bathtub and Vaughn kissing her less than an hour before. It seemed that both events were destined to change her life.
**************************************************************************** ******
Vaughn stood in the cold London air for more than the 10 minutes he had told Sydney he would. He wondered if all that they had just gone through was a mistake. Would it bring them closer together or drive them apart? Never had he admitted those feelings to anyone, and yet he hadn't hesitated to throw them out there with Sydney. Then again, it wasn't as if he had been thinking much during their fight. Perhaps it was his subconscious trying to work out their issues, he mused.
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Thankfully Dixon was exactly where Vaughn had suggested he might be. Sydney's knuckles rapped on his hotel room door and he threw it open. "Sydney, thank God!" he exclaimed as he pulled her into the room and shut the door behind her.
"Jesus," he said, taking in her mussed hair, bloody lip, and scratch marks, "they really did a number on you, huh? How did they get hold of you—you should have been safe in the van?"
Sydney proceeded to tell Dixon about how she ran to the hotel to get suitable clothing after she lost radio contact and then went in after him. She told him how the Consortium agents had her in a room until she busted out earlier in the evening, and how she could only hope he was already out and back at the hotel. At least that part of it was true, she thought to herself, sadly resigned to the fact that she couldn't say that about most of her life.
After Dixon was satisfied that they were both okay and a call had been made to the SD-6 travel department to get their tickets changed to Sunday morning, Sydney found herself in her room all alone. She reached for her cell phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.
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Vaughn was sitting in the pub he had mentioned to Sydney, staring at a pint of Guinness when his cell phone rang. He took a deep breath before pressing the button to take her call.
"Vaughn," he answered tersely.
"It's me."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine…we're set on a flight tomorrow morning back to LAX."
"Good."
They sat in an awkward silence, neither one really knowing what to say to the other. Finally Vaughn cleared his throat. "Okay, well, I'm glad everything worked out…I'll see you back in LA." He was about to push the end button when he heard her.
"Wait…Vaughn…thank you for coming here…for helping me. I know you didn't have to, and I just…I just really appreciate that you're here for me when I need it."
"Do you think I'd come to London for just anyone?" he said with a smile that she could hear through the line.
"Well, thank you. I'll see you, okay?"
"Yeah…see ya."
He hung up the phone and looked at the beer in front of him. He gulped it down before you could say "Sydney Bristow."
**************************************************************************** ******
5 Days Later
Los Angeles
Sydney was at home, sitting on the couch with Francie watching TV. It was pretty sad for a Friday night but in that unspoken single woman way they hadn't even mentioned it. Plus, Dark Angel was on. The phone rang and Sydney tensed. She had a feeling that this was the phone call she had been waiting for. Francie threw her the cordless phone with an "I know it's not for me!"
Sydney stared at it for a couple of rings and only picked it up when Francie gave her A Look.
"Hello?"
"Joey's Pizza."
She sighed. "Wrong Number."
Francie rolled her eyes. "I don't know what's sadder—the fact that we're home on a Friday night to answer that damn phone, or that the only calls we get are people looking for pizza!"
Sydney stood up. "I'm gonna go for a quick drive…I'm feeling a little restless," she told her roommate.
"But Syd," Francie protested, "Max is about to kick that government agent's ass!"
"I know, but I think I'm just going to drive around a bit, sort of clear my head."
"Okay. I'll let you know what you missed," Francie said in a confused, yet utterly accepting tone. Sydney had done this before.
Sydney stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter to grab her car keys. She headed out to her car realizing that her flannel pants and cotton tank top wasn't the best outfit to head out in, but she didn't really care. The past 5 days had been full of nothing but internal debate for her and yet she still didn't know what she wanted to say to Vaughn.
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Vaughn paced the small, chain-link enclosed space in the warehouse. He hadn't talked to Sydney all week, hoping that she'd be the one to contact him, but days had gone by. Even now his "Joey's Pizza" call was regarding an operation that the CIA wanted her to carry out.
Vaughn realized that their situation was far from ideal. With Alice he had worried about meeting her parents; with Sydney he had to worry about the fact that her parent killed his. It was so screwed up, he thought to himself, but he realized that it was something he had to deal with. Sydney wasn't her mother, and the sooner he got her to realize it the better off they'd both be. He sighed and looked at his watch. Where was she? He didn't know what to say to her when she got there, but he still knew he'd feel better with her there.
*************************************************************************** *******
Sydney sat in her Land Rover, parked outside the warehouse, postponing their meeting. Her mind was racing with possible scenarios, ranging from another all-out fight to hot sex on the warehouse floor. The one idea that scared her, however, was the idea of her going in there, the two of them having a nice work-related conversation, and him sending her on her way with a polite yet distant goodbye. She didn't think that she could handle it if Vaughn left her too.
Sydney stepped out of her car and walked toward the warehouse. She had made her decision. When she walked into the warehouse and saw Vaughn pacing like a nervous father she realized that her decision wasn't a decision so much as it was an acceptance. Michael Vaughn had become a part of her life and the only person that she truly looked forward to seeing, to talking to, each day. To deny this would just be another lie in a long list of them, lies that had become a necessity in Sydney's daily routine. She had come to accept this as part of what she was doing, part of what she was all about. She was not, however, going to lie to herself.
The only thing that stood in the way was Danny, or rather Danny's ghost.
She had loved Danny and she would have married him if he had been alive. But the fact was that he was dead; she couldn't pretend that he was just "away." Yes, she had loved him, and it didn't matter that she was falling for someone else because she would always love him in a way.
But Vaughn was her lifeline—he kept her sane and alive and he made her feel like there was still a purpose to her life, and she loved him for it.
*************************************************************************** *******
Vaughn watched as Sydney crossed the warehouse floor and came to rest in front of him. She sat down on the desk across from him, her legs swinging down. Taking a cue from her he sat on his own desk and the two sat there looking at each other, legs dangling as if they were children.
Sydney spoke first. "It's not going to be easy."
"I know."
"Do you? Are you willing to sit chairs apart at a hockey game, or a row apart at the movies? To meet in a warehouse, or at a pier, because there's no way in hell we can be seen at each other's houses?"
"Sydney," Vaughn broke in, "do you think all of this hasn't occurred to me? It's crazy for us to try and do this—it's crazy and it's dangerous, and I must be out of my mind, but I want it."
"I'm never going to be able to forgive my mother for what she did to you, to your family. I know it's not my fault, but you have to accept that my mother's blood runs through my veins and I can't help feeling responsible for her actions because of that."
"I know, Syd, but if you want us to move on, move past this, then you can't feel guilty when you're around me. This can't be something you do out of pity."
"God, Vaughn," Sydney said, hurt, "I would never be with someone out of pity, okay? That's just…I wouldn't do that."
They sat in silence for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts.
"I can never be Danny."
"I know."
"Can you deal with that, deal with the fact that I'm not the man you thought you would marry? I can't live up to a ghost, Syd, and it wouldn't be fair to ask me to."
Sydney nodded her agreement. "I won't lie to you—I loved Danny and I would have married him if he was still here. But that doesn't mean that I'm incapable of loving another."
Again they sat in silence, absorbing the conversation.
Sydney started again, hesitant. "You represent so much to me, Vaughn; you're the one truth in my life of dishonesty. I don't know if you can comprehend how much that means to me—how important it is to me that you're in my life."
"I don't know if you've realized this," Vaughn said with a slight smile, "but you've occupied my thoughts for quite a while now. Things with Alice ended because she knew I was pulling away from her, knew that there was someone else on my mind. She knew it even before I did."
They stared at each other, neither moving for fear of interrupting this moment.
Vaughn broke the silence. "You asked me in London what I would even do without you. That's a question I don't know the answer to, and one that I never want to find out the answer to."
Sydney stared at him, blinking back tears, trying to understand why this wonderful man who, by all rights should hate her, instead wanted to love her. She smiled brilliantly at him, dimples showing for the first time in days, and as her eyes met his she realized the "why" didn't matter.
"Well, then, I guess there's only one more thing to say."
Vaughn tensed with apprehension—he had thought that their biggest issues were out of the way. "Okay, go for it. What else do you want to say to me?"
"Kiss me."
He smiled wide and slid off of the desk. He crossed the mere feet that separated them and looked down into her eyes.
And then he kissed her.
end.
* Ah, my love. My passion for you burns white hot. Kiss me, kiss me! You are my love, my life.
** Oh, how you tempt me, you beautiful devil woman. Won't you ever be satisfied? You will be the death of me, you crazy, gorgeous goddess! I must have you now!
*** My love for you is immeasurable. You stole my heart the first time I laid eyes on you and you've kept it ever since. I wake each morning hoping to see you and I treasure each moment we have together.
**** Even when I can't even look at you.
AUTHOR: Valerina
FEEDBACK: Yes please! Loved it, hated it, let me know. Valerina719@hotmail.com
CLASSIFICATION: VSR, angst
SUMMARY: Sydney and Vaughn realize they've got issues.
SPOILERS: None specific, slight "The Prophecy"
DISCLAIMER: JJ, sweet JJ...I'm sad to say that "Alias" is not mine. If I had to say whose it was I would go with JJ Abrams, "Bad Robot," and ABC. But that's just a guess :)
DISTRIBUTION: Credit Dauphine, Alias Fan Fiction Archive. Anyone else, please feel free but let me know so I can come visit it!
RATED: R (for a tiny bit of potty mouth)
TIMELINE: okay, so work with me--The Prophecy did happen, but this story works as if Sydney proved herself innocent without declaring her mother alive. Okay? So to recap--Syd's mom is still dead. Great!
NOTE: all of the French in this story was provided by an online translator, so if you speak French I apologize now. For those of you (like me) who took Spanish instead, there is a translation for those lines located all the way at the bottom of the page. Enjoy!
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Chinese Embassy
London, England
Sydney Bristow leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms above her head, trying to find any comfort she could in the cramped SD-6 issue van. In front of her were 8 monitors, all showing various rooms and hallways inside the Chinese Embassy. Her earpiece crackled with static as Dixon began speaking. She quickly flipped a switch on the console in front of her, effectively changing their frequency and allowing her to hear Dixon clearly.
"Sydney, I'm inside the main ballroom but I have yet to make a visual ID of our contact."
Sydney scanned the monitors before her. Hundreds of people wandered through the rooms, drinks in hand and making small talk, always wondering if there was someone more important in the next room. Sydney caught sight of Lord Geoffrey Longbotten in the conservatory and conveyed his position to Dixon before yawning.
To think that she usually envied Dixon, sitting in the van and keeping surveillance while she perfected her ability to run in 4-inch heels. She attempted to rise out of the chair but only succeeded in knocking her head against the roof.
"Damn it," she muttered, rubbing her head. What she wouldn't give to be in a slinky dress and heels and enjoying the party right about now. She smiled to herself—that was something she never thought she'd say.
"Dixon, how do you do this? I can barely turn around in here," she asked her partner as she checked on his progress towards the conservatory on the monitors.
His low chuckle came through the earpiece. "Very carefully, Syd. You can't have all the party fun. Oh, I see Lord Longbotten over by the balcony. As soon as I get what we came for I'll show you how to move around that van."
Sydney leaned back in her chair, enjoying the levity between herself and her partner. It had been a hard couple of months and they were both enjoying an "easy" mission. She kept her eye on Dixon, who was talking with Longbotten. As they slowly moved away from the crowd their light conversation gave way to the real reason they were both at the party that night.
"I have the disk right here," said Longbotten, smoothly motioning to his breast pocket. "I can't give it to you in the building—I've heard too much about the surveillance cameras. If anyone were to see me giving you this…" his voice trailed off.
Sydney frowned. This was not how the exchange was supposed to go down.
"Dixon, if you think it's safe, suggest that you go out on the balcony—there won't be any cameras there, but we'll still maintain radio contact. Just give me a signal if it goes south."
Dixon nodded almost imperceptibly and mentioned to Longbotten that they step outside to complete their business. Sydney followed their movements until they were out of camera range. She listened intently to make sure that everything was happening smoothly.
"Thank you, Lord Longbotten, and please accept this gift from a grateful paaaaa…" Dixon's voice faded and Sydney heard a loud thump. She grabbed for the microphone.
"Dixon? DIXON!? Answer me—what's going on out there?" There was no answer to her question, only a muffled sound.
A voice laughed and a moment later Sydney winced as the screech of Dixon's transmitter being destroyed reached her ears. She whirled around and threw open the van door, racing out into the night. Under the cover of darkness and the foliage that lined the outer perimeter of the Embassy she was able to make it undetected to the side of the building where the balcony was located.
"Damn it, damn it…" she kept up this whispered mantra as she made her way up the trellis onto the balcony. There was no one there, and no sign of a struggle. She kneeled down, looking for any trace of her partner. Nothing. This was not supposed to happen--not tonight, not on this mission.
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2 Days Earlier
Los Angeles, CA
Michael Vaughn pulled up to the warehouse that was beginning to feel, of all things, comfortable. He got out of his car and checked for any sign that he had been followed before entering. She was already there, perched on the edge of the desk and flipping through a worn copy of The Sun Also Rises.
Sydney looked up at the sound of his shoes against the concrete floor and smiled sheepishly, her dimples appearing. "I'm sorry…I have a paper due and—"
"It's okay." He entered the fenced-in room that had served as their meeting place so many times before. "I remember what it was like to be a student, many, many years ago." His own dimples made a quick appearance. Vaughn took his place across from her, standing up and leaning against the chain link fence wall.
Sydney closed her book and slipped it into her backpack, which she had propped up against the bottom corner of the desk. She chuckled softly at Vaughn's comment and was compelled to respond to it. After a few days off and a seemingly simple mission coming up, she felt uncharacteristically playful.
Because she remained on the desk edge, she had to lift her head up to make eye contact with Vaughn. Looking up at him through her lashes she was hit with the realization that she was flirting. This thought was enough to momentarily keep her brain from coming up with a witty comment to throw back at Vaughn.
He took her pause to mean that she wanted to get straight to their business, so he broached the subject first. "What does Sloane have planned for you this time?"
A little saddened by the abrupt change in subject, Sydney replied. "It seems like a simple enough mission—Dixon is the point man, leaving me to do video surveillance. Our contact is Lord Geoffrey Longbotten and we will meet up with him the day after tomorrow at the first gala to celebrate the Chinese New Year thrown by the Chinese Embassy in London. SD-6 has promised him $20,000 in exchange for a disk of information."
Vaughn leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak. Sydney smiled slightly and cut him off. "And before you ask, no, I don't know what's on that disk—Sloane wouldn't let that bit of information out. He just said that it's important."
Vaughn stood in silence for a moment. "Hmm…what do we know about this Lord?"
"He's from an old aristocratic family who still have their title but none of their wealth. It looks like he's just doing it for the money."
Vaughn's forehead crinkled in thought. "What ties could he possibly have that would interest SD-6?" he asked her.
Sydney shrugged. She bent at the waist to fiddle with the strap of her sandal, her hair becoming a glossy curtain obscuring her face. "I just figured that whatever is so important to Sloane should be important to the CIA."
Momentarily distracted by the figure in front of him, Vaughn remained silent. Sydney snapped back up, shaking her head to get her hair out of her face.
"Don't you think?"
Vaughn cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to a spot, any spot, that was not her figure stretched out in front of him.
"Absolutely. Just be sure Dixon hands the disk off to you for 'safekeeping' and take the opportunity to make a copy. When you get back we'll set up a drop time."
The two agents sat more or less comfortably in silence for a few moments, neither one wanting to be the one to end their meeting. Finally Vaughn spoke up.
"So, if you 're going to be in London, that's the same city as De Hems. That's my favorite pub in the world."
Their eyes met and they shared a shy smile, both remembering a time not so long ago in which the wistful possibility of an authentic Italian dinner gave way to the sad acceptance of the reality of their lives.
*************************************************************************** *******
Vaughn left the meeting with the same pent-up feelings that plagued him almost every time he saw Sydney Bristow. Any psychiatrist would have a field day with the number and variety of emotions that swirled in him connected to that one woman, much less the CIA-appointed one who was concerned about a Christmas gift, of all things. She intrigued him and inspired wonder in him; he wanted to hold her close and comfort her when she felt down; he wanted everything from life he could possibly have with her, the things that he used to believe he wanted with Alice. Did he love her, after less than a year of knowing her? Probably. It made him sick.
He was her handler. Nothing more. Sure, they shared a smile now and then, a joke or two. There had been some comfort touching and a lot of emotions revealed. There was jealousy (at least on his part) and admiration. They had worked together under pressure and proved that they were a damn good team. Did his feelings for her affect him? You bet your ass they did. Was he a better handler to her because of them? Same answer.
At the root of his swirling emotions was that little nugget of truth, the one that threatened to burst their happy little agent/handler bubble if they ever chose to truly examine it. His life had been altered in the worst way, all because of the woman who had given Sydney life. That little nugget was always there—it was always between them. He wanted her, wanted her emotionally and physically, and wanted to protect her from anything that hurt her. He wanted so many things…but most of all he wanted to not love the woman whose mother had killed his father so many years ago. It made him sick. He got in his car and drove home to an empty house.
*************************************************************************** *******
Sydney left the meeting deep in thought. She had really started looking forward to these clandestine meetings as if they were a social event and not a necessary step to ensure her survival. Driving home to meet her friends simply reminded her of the new set of lies she would have to think up in order to explain away her absence for the last hour. Was it another work-related meeting, or had she used that excuse one too many times? She could always go with the tried and true library excuse—after all, she actually had her backpack with her this time.
Should she fabricate a secret lover to placate Francie, who had been pushing more and more frequently for her to "get a life?" At least she would have someone in mind to describe to Francie. As Sydney started up her car and pulled out onto the main road, her thoughts turned to her handler. Danny's engagement ring lay safely in her jewelry box, ever since her ritual with Francie, and yet her finger still felt naked without it. She had loved Danny, hadn't she? Wanted to marry him? It wasn't right to feel something, anything, for another man after what had happened to him. It made her sick.
Developing feelings for Vaughn was dangerous and stupid…and she knew it. When you threw two people into a tension-filled situation for an extended period of time, feelings will develop. Any Psych 100 course would teach you that. Had she simply latched on to Vaughn because he was there? Her mind brought up dozens of moments from the last 7 months, dozens of pictures that illustrated their deepening relationship. Soft touches, hesitant embraces, innocent and not so innocent comments. At the pier, at a newsstand, in the very warehouse she had just left—all these places had become bookmarks in their story.
She still couldn't believe her own audacity when inviting Vaughn to a hockey game. She had all but asked him to play another, more personal role in her life. Of course, his admission that he wanted to play that role didn't help much. How could she play her part of a mourner when the thought of the dimple in his chin, the way he crushed her to his chest to protect her when their bomb went off in the Vatican, and the way his eyes darkened and his jaw tightened whenever she mentioned Will, all caused her to forget about the diamond ring hidden away? It made her sick. She turned into her driveway, and even though she saw lights on through the windows of her house, felt alone.
*************************************************************************** *******
London
Sydney searched every bit of the balcony for any evidence of what had happened to her partner but came up empty-handed. She wasn't equipped to join the party. Neither she nor Dixon had felt it necessary for her to be ready to exit the van, hence her black top and pants. Completely suitable for sitting and surveying and possibly running away on foot but not exactly a high fashion choice for an embassy party. She had no choice but to get back to the van and try to figure out what had happened. Before she left the balcony she pulled out her cell phone and stared at it. She wasn't sure who to call…should she call Sloane and risk his decision to leave Dixon in England? Call the CIA and risk her own cover (and life) to save him? She shook her head and called the only person she could think to help her—she called Michael Vaughn.
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Los Angeles
Halfway around the world Vaughn lay sound asleep in his queen-sized bed, still occupying only the left side. Apparently, even after many months of sleeping alone, his unconscious had yet to realize it. His eyelids fluttered with dream as the shrill ring of his cell phone broke the silence. He sat up in bed, the interruption to his sleep immediate and unwelcome. He groaned and stretched his arms over his head towards the bedside table where his cell phone was plugged in, charging for the night. The caller ID showed only "Wireless Caller," but he recognized the number. His heart seized in his chest as he realized something major must have happened for Sydney to call his cell.
"Vaughn," he answered tersely, steeling himself for bad news.
"Oh my god, Vaughn, they've got Dixon…I don't know where, who, what happened—what am I going to do?"
"Where are you staying?" he asked her, grabbing in the dark for the pen and paper he knew was on the table. He quickly scribbled down the hotel name she gave him. "Are you there now?…Get there and stay there. I'm on my way."
Vaughn pushed the "end" button on his cell phone and groped for the light switch, shielding his eyes against the harsh brightness. He grabbed his passport and wallet from the drawer in his bedside table and began to get his things together for his unplanned, and no doubt unsanctioned by the CIA, trip.
*************************************************************************** *******
London
Vaughn spent most of the flight on his laptop, using every bit of information that Sydney had given him about this mission to try and figure out what had happened to Dixon. He thought he had a viable scenario when he stepped off the plane into the bustling corridors of Heathrow Airport. He turned his theory over and over in his mind as he walked into the London Underground and took the tube to the Holborn station. He had gotten to the point where he was ready to present his ideas to Sydney when he got off of the Underground and walked the small distance down Southampton Row to the Grange Holborn Hotel.
Vaughn knocked softly on her door, quickly sweeping his eyes down the hallway to his right and his left, making sure he wasn't being observed. He heard the soft snick of the lock being turned and pushed open the door slowly. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned to face her, expecting a ball of energy and passion to come hurtling toward him, throwing ideas at him before he could even say "hello." What he did not expect was the sight that greeted him.
Sydney sat on the bed Indian-style, the comforter pulled around her like a shawl. She was staring into space. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and her face betrayed no expression at all.
Slowly Vaughn moved toward her. "Sydney," he said softly, his voice deep and hoarse from 11 straight hours on a plane. He ended up in front of her, kneeling directly below her on the floor and looking up into her face. "Sydney," he urged again.
She blinked at him and simply said, "This is all my fault."
Vaughn brought his hands up to rest on her knees. He applied subtle pressure to get her attention. "Syd—this was not your fault. You can't blame yourself for Dixon being taken."
"You're wrong—I can. It was my fault. I was so happy to finally be rid of that stupid prophecy and so I didn't worry about this mission…" she trailed off, sighing in frustration.
"Jesus, Syd, you did everything you could possibly do to prepare for this mission. You and Dixon knew the case, knew your roles, you were ready. Do not do this to yourself—let's just concentrate on where he might be so that we can save him. I think I was able to narrow down the possibilities on the flight over here."
She looked up in interest. Finally, he thought, there's a spark. The two of them poured over different intel that Vaughn had amassed while struggling to both stay awake and avoid in-flight movie Freddie Got Fingered during his transatlantic flight.
Finally, several hours and two calls to room service later, they had both come to a conclusion that they believed was the most probable. After digging into Lord Longbotten's past they had discovered ties to a Hong Kong Consortium that specialized in biotechnology. Apparently whatever information he was selling to SD-6 was more valuable than they had been led to believe.
Morning and afternoon had already come and gone, and they were slowly creeping towards evening. The bedside clock read 4:15. Vaughn had already passed through exhaustion and was now bordering on collapse, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him and leaning against the side of the bed to keep himself upright. While Sydney was in the bathroom he took the opportunity to rub his eyes with the back of his hand and arched his back in an effort to stretch some of the kinks out. Glancing once more at the closed bathroom door he forced himself to stand and then immediately lowered himself onto the bed. Just one second, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and promptly fell into a deep sleep.
Sydney opened the bathroom door and walked into the room. Her eyes caught on the figure of Vaughn stretched out on the full-sized mattress, his shirtsleeves folded up at the elbows and his pants wrinkled beyond any dry cleaner's help. She smiled slightly at his peaceful expression. It made her a little sad realizing that the only time either of them could get any peace was in their sleep. She stood there for a while just watching him before reclining on the couch in the other room.
*************************************************************************** *******
Vaughn's internal clock awakened him around 8pm, a time that was conducive to their plan. Soft light from the streetlights filtered in through the curtains and let in enough illumination for Vaughn to barely make out Sydney's stretched out form on the couch. He stretched on the bed and slowly got to his feet.
He walked softly across the room, not wanting to wake her until absolutely necessary. Her hair was spread like a fan on the pillow and her legs were tucked under her body in the fetal position. He reached down to softly brush a few strands of hair off of her forehead. She started to move under his touch and he quickly removed his hand. For some reason he didn't want her to wake up under his touch. Not now, not yet.
She blinked her eyes and realization slowly dawned on her face as her eyes darted around the room and finally settled on Vaughn standing above her. Remembering where she was, Sydney pulled herself up quickly and threw a glance towards the bedside clock. "Oh my god, what time is it? We've got to get—"
"It's okay, Sydney, we're right on schedule." He interrupted her smoothly, not wanting to get her excited. If they were going to extract Dixon then he wanted them both to be calm and completely ready.
She got up from the couch and self-consciously smoothed a hand through her hair, trying for a semblance of professionalism. He smiled wryly at her and mimicked her movements by tentatively checking on the status of his own bed head. They exchanged an embarrassed look and both went off in search of their respective gear for the mission. Ten minutes and one awkward "you take the bathroom first, no you take the bathroom" conversation later they were ready to storm the Chinese Embassy walls. So to speak.
The Chinese New Year was certainly something to celebrate, and the Embassy did it in grand style. Another night, another party. Sydney stepped out of the hotel bathroom in the party dress and shoes that she had been so glad to give up the night before.
Vaughn stopped trying to tie his bowtie for the tenth time and gave her an appreciative glance. He swallowed. "Well, you look really pretty." He mentally kicked himself as the words left his mouth, but the compliment had the same effect on her this time as it had a couple of months back when he had offered it to her before she left for Sloane's dinner party: she blushed.
"Thanks and, um, you look pretty dashing yourself. Except for…this." Sydney strode over to him and seriously invaded his personal space. He swallowed hard again as her hands came within inches of his mouth, grasping the ends of the tie that he had been struggling with. Within seconds she had the task completed, and he had to admit it was one of the prettier ties he had seen, and he told her so.
Sydney's dimples made a lengthy appearance as she thanked Vaughn for his compliment. "Well, you don't think James Bond ever tied his own ties, do you? It was always the spy behind the spy."
Vaughn chuckled appreciatively, his husky laugh enticing her dimples to stay a little longer. The two made eye contact and for a few brief moments it looked quite possible that they were about to kiss. The tension between them was thicker than the London fog outside the window and it was almost as if a magnet was slowly drawing their mouths towards one another.
Neither one of them let their gaze falter until Vaughn shifted his eyes downward towards her mouth as one is wont to do when kissing. It broke the tension between them and they both stepped back simultaneously in some odd parody of dance. Not knowing what to say, the two agents grabbed their coats and headed out of the room, intent on making their mission a success regardless of what had just (almost) happened between them.
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Two well-dressed attractive people hardly make a wave at a festive celebration involving much alcohol and joviality and so Sydney and Vaughn had no trouble playing the part of a pretty French couple, blending in with the rest of the international partygoers at the Embassy. They had decided on French aliases, counting on both Vaughn's comfort with the language and the fact that no one seemed to suspect the French of anything.
After studying the floor plans and blueprints they were able to locate online it seemed a strong possibility that Dixon was still in the building. The plan was simple—enjoy the party for a while to avoid drawing attention to themselves and quickly slip away to the part of the Embassy that wasn't on the guided tour.
The amount of care and planning that had gone into their mission that night was nothing compared to the precautions they took while dancing. Vaughn was careful not to place his hand too far down her back and Sydney took pains to refrain from leaning into him as they danced. It employed tactical maneuvers all its own.
Finally, after "enjoying" the party for a little over an hour they slowly made their way to one of the back staircases. Servants cleared paths around the couple, only worrying about the trays of champagne they were gripping. Sydney suddenly recalled Longbotten's comments regarding the surveillance cameras in the embassy.
She grabbed Vaughn's hand. "You're going to have to trust me with this, okay?" Without really waiting for his nod of assent she pulled his arm so that his body crashed into hers and they began what looked like a drunken mating dance down the hallway.
"Ah, mon amour. Ma passion pour vous brûle blanc chaud. M'embrasser, m'embrasser! Vous êtes mon amour, ma vie,"* she said loudly and with just enough drunken fervor to fool the passing servants, who flew by them clutching their trays of glasses while making sure to keep their eyes peeled to the two French lovebirds. She put her mouth against his neck, kissing him loudly and wetly as her lips made their way from his chin down to the hollow of his throat.
"Syd, you have got to be kidding me," he snorted into her ear softly, laughing at her choice of words. He was worried he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. But, he rose to the challenge as a true Frenchman would.
"Oh, comment vous me tentez, vous la belle femme de diable. Est-ce que vous ne serez jamais satisfait? Vous sera la mort de me, vous fou, magnifique déesse! Je dois vous avoir maintenant!"** His hands made their way down her body and clutched her towards his chest. His heartbeat quickened but he ignored it, choosing to play the part and not allow the part to play him.
As they had been talking they were swiftly moving towards a semi-hidden stairwell that they believed headed towards the sub-levels of the Embassy. By appearing like a horny couple just looking for a place to lie down they should be able to stay off of the security guards' radar.
Sydney flirtatiously led Vaughn over to the wall next to the stairwell. He grabbed a wrist in each hand and pushed her up against the wall. She was taken by surprise and let out a surprised gasp.
"C'mon, Syd, we're almost there," he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose.
"Mon amour pour vous êtes immeasurable. Vous avez volé mon coeur la première fois j'ai placé des yeux sur vous et vous've l'a gardé depuis. Je réveille chaque matin qui espère vous et moi voir le trésor chaque moment que nous avons ensemble,"*** he continued loudly, still keeping his body pressed up against Sydney's.
Almost as an afterthought he added, "Même quand je peux't vous regarde même,"**** speaking into her ear. Her eyes met his and she smiled slightly. They stood there suspended in the moment before she threw her arms around him and tugged him down the stairs.
**************************************************************************** ******
Dropping the pretense of lovers quickly, the two agents headed down the stairs into what looked like another maze of doors, hallways, and stairs. Their research had prepared them for this, however, and Sydney led the way through the twists to a doorway marked "Storage." According to their intel this door opened to the anteroom of the observation room. Not expecting any guards, she quickly opened the door and they both slipped inside.
Thankfully, the entranceway was empty of any Consortium agents. They heard voices coming from the next room and prepared a diversion. Slipping back into their French personas, Sydney began speaking in English with a thick French accent. She didn't want to overestimate the guards' intelligence and speak a language they could perceive a threat in not understanding.
"Kiss me, my love. We are finally alone, no?" She pulled Vaughn to her and grabbed the back of his neck with her hand. As she was drawing down his face to hers a man appeared in the doorway that led to the surveillance room.
"What are you doing here? This is a restricted area—you must leave at once!"
"What? Ze sign said storage…I just wanted a place to be alone with mon bel amour. Hee hee…alone, comprend?" Vaughn wagged his eyebrows suggestively at the enemy agent, squeezing Sydney closer to him.
The man sighed and rolls his eyes. He began to walk towards them with his arms outstretched. "I'm sorry, but this is not a place for you two to be alone. There's a hotel right down the road—I suggest you try there." With his arms he started to push them towards the door and back out into the hallway.
Sydney grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back. As he struggled for breath she straddled him. Crouching low to his face so not to be overheard, Sydney asked, "How many more of you are in there?…Tell me!" She grabbed his shirt and shook him for the information.
Wheezing, the man indicated that there was only one more agent keeping an eye on the screens. Sydney knocked him out with a blow to the head and she and Vaughn crept silently towards the room. The other agent was sitting in a chair facing the screens. Rather than waste time interrogating him Sydney simply disposed of any threat he posed and laid him unconscious on the floor. As always, Vaughn was impressed, and a little freaked out, by the ease with which she handled herself in the field. He supposed that sitting behind a desk most days didn't exactly make him a good partner for her during their little missions, but he figured that everything would go smoothly if he just followed her lead and stayed out of her way.
As they looked around the room the scope of Longbotten's comment hit them full force. There were at least 50 different screens throughout the room, covering every conceivable angle and part of the Embassy. Sydney immediately went to work trying to spot Dixon. After a minute or two of scanning the screens she exclaimed, "I got him!"
Vaughn came over to stand next to her and fixed his eyes on the screen she was pointing to. It certainly looked like Dixon, although he didn't look too good. He was sitting in a chair with his hands behind his back. Vaughn couldn't tell if they were tied, but he certainly didn't know anyone who found that position comfortable. He squinted at the screen.
"Who is that next to him?" he asked Sydney.
"Oh my god—that's Longbotten. From the way he's sitting I'd say it's a safe bet he wasn't in on the attack."
"Shit," Vaughn said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "that throws off the plan just a little bit."
"C'mon, Vaughn, you're not up for a little challenge?" Sydney asked him with a daredevil smile, her comment belying the tension they both felt.
Vaughn shrugged and he gave her a wry smile. "It's your show, Syd, I'm just along for the ride."
"Then let's go." Sydney took one last look at the monitor and tried to decipher where Dixon and Longbotten were being held. According to the labels above some of the monitors it was located in SB4. She automatically assumed it stood for Sub-Basement 4. In her mind she accessed the blueprints of the Embassy that they had studied earlier in the day. There should be an elevator down the hall that would lead to all the sub-levels, and from there she just needed to find Dixon and get him and Longbotten out.
Vaughn simply stood there and watched Sydney work it out in her mind. He was completely in awe of her abilities when it came to things like this, and he hadn't been kidding earlier when he said that he was only there for the ride. He wanted to make sure Sydney was safe and that she didn't put herself in any unnecessary danger, but he didn't delude himself that he would be of any real help to her. Plus, it wasn't as if Dixon could see him working with Sydney on his rescue—he was relegated to a behind-the- scenes role anyway.
Vaughn watched as Sydney raced out of the surveillance room, wishing he could do more but knowing that there was no way they could risk Dixon seeing him working with Sydney. It would blow her cover and wreck everything they had been working towards for nearly the past year.
Sydney's voice came through his earpiece. "I'm almost through the last hallway on this level—Dixon should be in the next to last door."
Vaughn kept his eyes peeled to the monitor that showed Dixon and Longbotten still sitting in their respective chairs.
"I'm through!" Sydney's voice exclaimed in his ear. Unfortunately his eyes told him otherwise. The scene he was staring at was exactly the same as it had been moments before.
"Shit—they're not here! Where the hell am I?" she asked Vaughn.
"Hold on, I'm looking," he murmured back, quickly scanning the other monitors trying to find her among them. "Gotcha…you're in a room labeled 'RDP.' Syd, there's no one else in there but I have no idea where you're located. You're three monitors over from where Dixon is, if that means anything to you."
"Okay, I don't think I'm too far off from where I need to be. I'll just…fuck!"
Vaughn checked her out on the monitor. She was standing at the door but seemed to be having trouble opening it.
"Jesus," Syd's voice buzzed in his ear, "my international spy union card is going to be taken away if I can't get this damn door open." The amusing words didn't quite mask the mounting frustration in her voice.
"Look, don't break down the door…it might go against our whole 'Let's not let anyone know we're here' mission. I'll come and open the door for you."
"Neat—you'll be my knight in shining Armani. Just go out the door…are you out the door?"
"Yes, Syd, I'm out the door," he replied in mild exasperation.
"Okay, turn right and walk down the hallway quickly…you'll see a door on the left marked 'Stairs' and that's exactly what they are. Take them 2 flights down…open the door and go out into the hallway. Turn left and go to the third door on the right. That's me."
Vaughn followed her directions and soon found himself in front of the door. He opened it quickly. He was surprised when he met resistance and even more surprised when he heard Sydney's exclamation of pain.
He peered into the room and saw Sydney bent at the waist, one palm pressed against her forehead.
"Oh my god, Sydney, are you okay? I didn't mean to…" he rushed forward to try to help her.
"The door!" she yelled, reaching out and pointing with the hand that wasn't clutching her forehead in pain.
"Caught it!" he exclaimed in triumph, his foot bent behind him and wedged between the doorframe and the door.
"Good catch." She smiled at him and then winced at the pain it caused.
"Syd, I really am sorry…"
"It's okay. I knew there couldn't be a mission I didn't come back from with a bruise."
He smiled sheepishly at her and turned to hold the door open for her. Just as she stepped through the doorway the lights went out in the hallway and the room. Several red "emergency" lights came on, casting their surroundings in a slightly eerie ruby glow. An ear piercing alarm began to shriek and they heard men shouting in Chinese.
"Shit," muttered Sydney and she whirled around and shoved Vaughn back into the room. The door slammed shut behind them.
Vaughn stumbled into the room but managed to remain on his feet. Sydney put a finger to her lips and mouthed "shh." She positioned herself by the side of the door, ready to surprise any agents that came through. Vaughn took a stance diagonal from Sydney, in front of a chair that was set up in the room. They tensed themselves, ready for a fight.
For five minutes they stayed in silence poised for an enemy that never came through the door.
Finally Sydney sank to the floor, keeping her back against the wall and her feet out in front of her. Vaughn took her cue and sank into the chair he had been positioned in front of, turning it around so he could face Sydney. They could still hear some activity in the hallway—mainly people running and some shouting in Chinese.
"Y'know, Syd, my Chinese is pretty rusty but I think Dixon got himself out of this mess. I'm picking up the words 'prisoners' or 'captives' or something like that and 'leave.'" Vaughn said quietly but with a slight smile. "Looks like Dixon didn't need CIA help to get him out of trouble."
Sydney caught his eye and smirked back. "Haven't you figured out yet that I don't need your help? I just want to get your ass out of that comfy chair it sits in all day."
Vaughn gave a low appreciative chuckle. He sighed. "So, how are you and I going to get out of this mess?"
Sydney shrugged her shoulders and took a brief look around the room. In the odd red light it was harder to make the details out. She squinted a little and began biting her bottom lip as she surveyed what was in the room and what they had to work with.
Vaughn watched her intently, loving the way he got to see the thoughts play out across her face as she tried to formulate a plan to get them out of there. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, no matter how hard he tried. There was a little bit of danger in him paying so much attention to her face but he just didn't care.
"Okay," Sydney started, "if we wait a while for everything to calm down I think our best shot is to climb up into the air vent and take that back up to the surveillance level. From there we can just continue our 'French lover' routine to get back up to the party and out of here."
"Sounds good." Vaughn nodded his agreement and she smiled, looking pretty pleased with herself.
"Okay, well, how to you want to pass the time? I play a mean game of tic- tac-toe…"
Vaughn grimaced, remembering one too many transatlantic flights as a child with that infernal game as his only source of amusement. "No way…what about Hangman?"
Sydney giggled. "You've got to be kidding me. The last time I did that was with Francie when our cable went out a few months ago. You'd think that candlelight would have made it at least a little more interesting, but no."
Vaughn let out a slightly exasperated sigh. "Well, I don't baby-sit as much as I used to…but, you're practically a child yourself—why don't you pick?" He smirked at her.
She sucked in her breath in mock astonishment. "You're making fun of my age, old man? Fine…that just proves my point about old guys not knowing how to have fun. It's just like I told Will last week, if you guys don't have a beer in your hand you wouldn't know a good time from a hole in the ground," she shot back, giggling.
At the mention of Will's name Vaughn felt himself tighten up. It was an automatic reaction and not one that he was proud of. He had to get past it—it wasn't as if he had a right to be jealous. He forced a small laugh out in time with hers and hoped she didn't catch the slight change in his attitude.
Well, Sydney thought to herself, that was a mistake. After how many months she should have realized that any mention of Will would bring down the temperature of this room a few degrees. Shit, her mind screamed, new topic, new topic!
"Well, uh, what games did you play as a kid? Something tells me you were quite the spin-the-bottler." She raised her eyebrows suggestively at him, which brought back a smile.
"You have no idea what spin-the-bottle does to insecure teenage boys. You girls have it so easy because every boy wants to kiss. It doesn't matter who to them, but no girl wants to get stuck kissing 'that awkward-looking boy.' I'm still getting over it."
Sydney widened her eyes in a parody of shock and disbelief. "You, an awkward teenager? No! I don't believe it!"
"Jerk," he muttered under his breath as he tossed a ball of lint he found in his pants pocket at her.
She batted the lint ball out of the air. Their eyes met and they simultaneously nodded and gave a drawn out "Wowwww," as if they were at a baseball game and were impressed with an outfielder's catch. They shared a smile and their eyes met.
They sat in an awkward moment of silence before Vaughn cast his eyes downward as he literally twiddled his thumbs.
"Y'know, Vaughn, I'm having a really fun time with you."
"You thought you wouldn't?" he questioned her as he let his attention wander from his moving thumbs back to her.
"No, it's just that we're not allowed to do this," she explained. "It's not as if I can ask you about spin-the-bottle when I'm facing in the other direction at a newsstand, pretending not to notice you standing there."
"So you notice me?"
"Vaughn…" she sounded exasperated, "you're missing my point."
"You had a point?"
"I'm gonna kill you…" she threatened, but with a smile. "So, since I might never get the chance again, tell me about your spin-the-bottle past."
"Okay," Vaughn relented. "Just remember that you asked to be bored out of your mind. This is not a torture devised for you, okay?"
Sydney nodded her assent and he proceeded to tell her all about his spin- the-bottle days.
By the end of his third story she was wiping tears from the corner of her eyes.
"Oh god," she managed to her in between snorts of laughter, "please tell me that didn't leave a stain!"
"Uh, no comment," Vaughn replied innocently.
Sydney let out another peal of laughter. "Oh man, didn't your father ever tell you to keep your mouth closed during that part?" She giggled as she asked him a question that, deep down, she already knew the answer to.
Vaughn cleared his throat softly and took a second as he seemingly searched for the right words to say. "Um…no, he, I mean…we never had that conversation before…well, I was kind of young, and, well…we just never had it."
He kept his eyes trained on the wall above Sydney's head while he spoke and finally, for the briefest of moments, met her eyes before shifting his attention once again to the hands folded in his lap.
The change in Sydney's demeanor was not immediate. It took her a few seconds to fully comprehend what he was trying to say without actually saying it.
She sucked in a breath before attempting to speak. "Vaughn," she said with wide eyes, "I am so sorry. I didn't realize what I was asking and I can't believe I just-"
Vaughn interrupted her. "Sydney, it's not your fault, don't worry about it, okay?"
Sydney shook her head. "No, just listen—I'm just, I'm sorry, and I just didn't make the connection-"
Vaughn broke in again. He raised his eyes to hers and said forcefully, "Damn it, Sydney—stop! It's not your fault.
"But I can't help feeling like I need to apologize—"
"Well stop it! There's nothing you can do about it, okay? It's over and done with and your mother is dead and my father is dead. That just leaves you and me to deal with it, okay?" His voice grew louder as he kept talking, practically shouting out the word "okay." "Jesus," he muttered, "just stop."
Throughout his speech Sydney braced herself to keep her emotions in check, her eyes slowly welling up, and she forced herself to keep it inside. By the time he got to "okay" she was ready to let a few tears fall as she accepted the truth of his words. However, when his voice dropped along with his eyes, she snapped. All of the anger she had been directing at herself for feeling the way she did and at him for making her feel that way came to the surface.
"Oh shut up Vaughn! You're not the only one who gets to decide how we deal with this, okay? Don't tell me how I should feel!" She threw back at him, challenging him with her eyes.
He rose to the bait. "How the fuck do you think you have the right, the right, to apologize away your mother's actions?" His voice was quiet but hard as he pushed her. He got to his feet and began walking away from her. After a few steps he turned back to her.
"You can't erase 23 years of my having to deal with this with two little words that you throw me like a bone to a dog."
Sydney scrambled to her feet so that she could face him on equal ground. There were only 8 feet apart but that didn't stop her from raising her voice at him.
"Fuck you, Vaughn! You know what I had to go through when I learned the truth about my mother, and then to learn that she killed your father…your father of all people! The only person I can even talk to anymore, the only man who I don't have to lie to…so fuck you! The only thing I can do for you is apologize. It's the only thing I can do to make it right between us."
The volume of her words steadily decreased until she was back to a normal speaking tone. She stared at Vaughn, looking to him for a clue as to how this conversation was going to proceed.
He brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose, his palm stretched out partially over his face, obscuring it from Sydney's line of vision. He seemed to be struggling with what to say next. In the space of a moment their future was decided.
Vaughn came back at Sydney full force. "Oh spare me, Syd," he practically spit out at her, "I am so sick of you taking the world's weight on your shoulders! Your mother is dead; you shouldn't have to atone for her sins. It's. Not. Your. Fault. None of this is your fault, understand? Week after week we meet and you cry about whatever event you're currently feeling guilty about and I let you. I let you take the responsibility for it, and I'm fucking done! Do you hear me?"
With this he crossed the number of feet separating them and stopped right in front of her, grabbing a wrist in each of his hands and holding them above her head as he pushed her up against the wall, a twisted caricature of the pose they had struck earlier as "lovers." He leaned in until his face was mere inches from hers and said softly, but still with all of the anger he had displayed since they started, "Do you hear me? I'm not doing it anymore."
Sydney waited a split second before wrenching free her right hand from his wrist and taking the opportunity to elbow Vaughn in the stomach. He was caught off guard and she took the opportunity to stomp on his instep, leaving him doubled over in pain and clutching his left foot. She breathed hard, pushing her hair out of her face.
"You're telling me that you can't do this anymore? You have got to be kidding me! What would you even do without me? Hell, you'd still be a junior agent, running around doing Haladki's bullshit work while the rest of us are out there saving the goddamned world," she snarled at him, all but baring her teeth as the rage poured from her.
Recovering from her attack, Vaughn stayed in a crouched position as she paced back and forth in front of him. She stopped moving and turned to face him, her head tilted down so that she could make eye contact with him. His expression was one of disbelief and anger; hers simply displayed rage. She stopped her verbal assault for a moment, sizing him up. He continued to stay crouched low to the ground, balancing on one hand pressed to the ground between his legs, his head lifted up so that he could watch her.
"C'mon Vaughn," Sydney taunted him, "it hasn't been that long since agent training…prove to me that you have what it takes."
Vaughn narrowed his eyes and slowly got to his feet. "Do you want to do this, Sydney?" he asked her, his voice hard. He took off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it onto the chair. He began to roll up his sleeves. "Then we'll do this. If this is what will get you off your high horse then I'm happy to help out."
Sydney barked out a short laugh. "I'd love to see you try." With this she came at him, throwing a punch at his face. He sidestepped her fist and pushed Sydney in the back. She twisted her body around in a spin kick but he ducked and grabbed her foot out of the air.
She wrenched her foot out of his grasp. "What," Vaughn snarled as he dodged another blow, "you can save the world but you can't kick the ass of some desk-jockey agent?"
Sydney's fist connected with Vaughn's cheek. He spun around with the force of her blow before countering with his own. It missed the target but glanced off her lip, leaving a bloody trail down her chin. She brought her hand up to her lip and pulled it away covered in red.
"Son of a…" She redoubled her efforts and launched herself at Vaughn's midsection. She took him down and he hit the floor with enough force to knock his breath out. She tried to straddle him but he squirmed out from under her. She reached for him with a clawed hand, leaving scratch marks down the side of his neck.
"Are you done apologizing?" Vaughn spit out at her as he climbed to his feet. Sydney jumped up and narrowed her eyes as she plotted her next move.
"Why do I even bother? [kick] Things could never be right between us [punch]," she said through clenched teeth.
"If you think that then it never will be—you can let another relationship slip through your [jab, block, jab] fingers," he yelled.
"I hate you!" she practically screamed at him, throwing herself at him full force.
"I hate the way you listen; I hate the way you comfort me; I hate the fact that it's you who I want to talk to before I go to sleep. Damn it, Vaughn, it's not supposed to be you!" She was all over him now, clawing, slapping, elbowing.
"Join the club," Vaughn seethed bitterly. "I hate you too. I hate that I remember who your mother was at the worst moments; I hate the fact that I have to wait for a phone call to learn whether or not you're still alive; I hate that hearing the name Will now makes me homicidal; I hate that one day I have to tell my mother about you and break her heart all over again." He gave as good as he got—arms flying at her body, pulling at her hair, nails clawing at her—as they rolled around on the floor.
Finally Vaughn grabbed a hold of Sydney's hair, right behind her neck. She was above him with her legs trying to gain leverage so that she could get up. As Vaughn's hand closed around her hair she gasped in pain. He held her head at an angle and the two stayed like that in the quiet room, the only sound their heavy breathing.
Sydney tired to get her head out of Vaughn's grip but only winced in pain when his hand did not yield. He stared into her eyes for a moment before his grip on her had tightened and he pulled her mouth down to his in one smooth motion. Her lips were hot on his and it only took a second before his tongue found its way inside her mouth.
The kiss was long and dark and wet and deep, and it seemed to go on forever. Eventually they pulled apart and Vaughn kept his hand on the back of her head, although his touch was much different this time around.
He stared into her eyes and whispered, "I hate that you're the only woman in the world who can make me feel like this, and it was your mother who was responsible for my family's grief. I hate that I've fallen in love with you, and it's so dangerous, so dangerous, but there's no hope of getting out of it." He stared at her, not moving a muscle.
She blinked several times before whispering back, "I hate that you're not Danny, and I hate that what I feel for you makes my feelings for Danny seem unimportant. I hate thinking that his death made it possible for me to meet you."
Vaughn blinked back tears as his hand caressed the side of Sydney's face. "Do you realize," he began with a small smile, "how much had to happen to get us here today, like this?"
"Yeah," Sydney said, realizing the scope of his statement even as she agreed with it.
"The chance that I would be there the day you walked into the CIA with that hair…"
Sydney smiled. "That awful pink hair!"
"And all of our history that we never knew we had," he continued. "What the hell are the chances of that?"
"So Danny, your father, my mother—they're all just part of the puzzle? I don't know if I can buy that," Sydney said, pulling herself off of Vaughn and sitting Indian-style with her back to him.
She could hear him moving around and wasn't surprised to find him sitting right behind her, his chest barely touching her back.
"Syd," he spoke softly in her ear, "we can't pretend the past didn't happen. Those events are a part of us and they make us who we are. It's up to us to decide if we're going to let these events define us or if we're going to move past them. I've already made my decision and now you've gotta make yours."
She nodded in silence.
"In the meantime, we better get out of here before Dixon starts planning a rescue mission for you."
The two agents got up and brushed themselves off. Quite frankly they were a mess. Vaughn's hair was tousled and standing up in every conceivable direction while Sydney's was a tangled mass of knots. Both had scratch marks on their arms and necks, Sydney's mouth was caked with drying blood and Vaughn had the makings of a pretty good shiner.
Vaughn raked his eyes over Sydney's form, trying to assess the damage done. He tentatively reached over and cupped her face in his palm, using his fingers to smooth her hair behind her ear.
Her eyes met his and she brought her own hand up and placed it over his. After a moment she moved her hands to his collar, fixing the upturned corners. They took turns going over each other's body, trying to put back together what their "discussion" had set askew.
Vaughn retrieved his tuxedo jacket from the chair that he had thrown it on, and began to put it back on. Sydney moved towards the air vent and stood on a nearby chair to force it open. She turned to Vaughn and said simply, "Follow me," before disappearing into the shaft above. Vaughn had no choice but to follow her.
Surprisingly they didn't have much trouble slipping back into the party. Without speaking to each other they made it outside of the Embassy and headed back towards the hotel. They walked the distance in silence.
As the hotel building appeared in the distance Vaughn suddenly stopped and grabbed Sydney's arm. She stopped mid-stride and turned to face him. Her expression seemed distant yet she was still attentive to Vaughn's words.
"Sydney, we can't go in there together. Hopefully Dixon is there waiting for you and I don't want to risk it."
Sydney nodded mutely.
Vaughn continued, "Go ahead and I'll follow behind you in 10 minutes. I have my cell phone and I want you to call me when everything is settled. Or if there's a problem, or…if you just need to talk. Okay, Syd? Call me."
Sydney gave him a small smile. "I will," she said softly and headed off towards their hotel. Vaughn watched her walk off, his heart heavy.
*************************************************************************** *******
Sydney walked into the hotel with thoughts swirling through her mind. She couldn't seem to focus on any one thing—it was all just a myriad of emotions and images. The ones she kept coming back to were finding Danny in that bathtub and Vaughn kissing her less than an hour before. It seemed that both events were destined to change her life.
**************************************************************************** ******
Vaughn stood in the cold London air for more than the 10 minutes he had told Sydney he would. He wondered if all that they had just gone through was a mistake. Would it bring them closer together or drive them apart? Never had he admitted those feelings to anyone, and yet he hadn't hesitated to throw them out there with Sydney. Then again, it wasn't as if he had been thinking much during their fight. Perhaps it was his subconscious trying to work out their issues, he mused.
*************************************************************************** *******
Thankfully Dixon was exactly where Vaughn had suggested he might be. Sydney's knuckles rapped on his hotel room door and he threw it open. "Sydney, thank God!" he exclaimed as he pulled her into the room and shut the door behind her.
"Jesus," he said, taking in her mussed hair, bloody lip, and scratch marks, "they really did a number on you, huh? How did they get hold of you—you should have been safe in the van?"
Sydney proceeded to tell Dixon about how she ran to the hotel to get suitable clothing after she lost radio contact and then went in after him. She told him how the Consortium agents had her in a room until she busted out earlier in the evening, and how she could only hope he was already out and back at the hotel. At least that part of it was true, she thought to herself, sadly resigned to the fact that she couldn't say that about most of her life.
After Dixon was satisfied that they were both okay and a call had been made to the SD-6 travel department to get their tickets changed to Sunday morning, Sydney found herself in her room all alone. She reached for her cell phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.
*************************************************************************** *******
Vaughn was sitting in the pub he had mentioned to Sydney, staring at a pint of Guinness when his cell phone rang. He took a deep breath before pressing the button to take her call.
"Vaughn," he answered tersely.
"It's me."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine…we're set on a flight tomorrow morning back to LAX."
"Good."
They sat in an awkward silence, neither one really knowing what to say to the other. Finally Vaughn cleared his throat. "Okay, well, I'm glad everything worked out…I'll see you back in LA." He was about to push the end button when he heard her.
"Wait…Vaughn…thank you for coming here…for helping me. I know you didn't have to, and I just…I just really appreciate that you're here for me when I need it."
"Do you think I'd come to London for just anyone?" he said with a smile that she could hear through the line.
"Well, thank you. I'll see you, okay?"
"Yeah…see ya."
He hung up the phone and looked at the beer in front of him. He gulped it down before you could say "Sydney Bristow."
**************************************************************************** ******
5 Days Later
Los Angeles
Sydney was at home, sitting on the couch with Francie watching TV. It was pretty sad for a Friday night but in that unspoken single woman way they hadn't even mentioned it. Plus, Dark Angel was on. The phone rang and Sydney tensed. She had a feeling that this was the phone call she had been waiting for. Francie threw her the cordless phone with an "I know it's not for me!"
Sydney stared at it for a couple of rings and only picked it up when Francie gave her A Look.
"Hello?"
"Joey's Pizza."
She sighed. "Wrong Number."
Francie rolled her eyes. "I don't know what's sadder—the fact that we're home on a Friday night to answer that damn phone, or that the only calls we get are people looking for pizza!"
Sydney stood up. "I'm gonna go for a quick drive…I'm feeling a little restless," she told her roommate.
"But Syd," Francie protested, "Max is about to kick that government agent's ass!"
"I know, but I think I'm just going to drive around a bit, sort of clear my head."
"Okay. I'll let you know what you missed," Francie said in a confused, yet utterly accepting tone. Sydney had done this before.
Sydney stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter to grab her car keys. She headed out to her car realizing that her flannel pants and cotton tank top wasn't the best outfit to head out in, but she didn't really care. The past 5 days had been full of nothing but internal debate for her and yet she still didn't know what she wanted to say to Vaughn.
*************************************************************************** *******
Vaughn paced the small, chain-link enclosed space in the warehouse. He hadn't talked to Sydney all week, hoping that she'd be the one to contact him, but days had gone by. Even now his "Joey's Pizza" call was regarding an operation that the CIA wanted her to carry out.
Vaughn realized that their situation was far from ideal. With Alice he had worried about meeting her parents; with Sydney he had to worry about the fact that her parent killed his. It was so screwed up, he thought to himself, but he realized that it was something he had to deal with. Sydney wasn't her mother, and the sooner he got her to realize it the better off they'd both be. He sighed and looked at his watch. Where was she? He didn't know what to say to her when she got there, but he still knew he'd feel better with her there.
*************************************************************************** *******
Sydney sat in her Land Rover, parked outside the warehouse, postponing their meeting. Her mind was racing with possible scenarios, ranging from another all-out fight to hot sex on the warehouse floor. The one idea that scared her, however, was the idea of her going in there, the two of them having a nice work-related conversation, and him sending her on her way with a polite yet distant goodbye. She didn't think that she could handle it if Vaughn left her too.
Sydney stepped out of her car and walked toward the warehouse. She had made her decision. When she walked into the warehouse and saw Vaughn pacing like a nervous father she realized that her decision wasn't a decision so much as it was an acceptance. Michael Vaughn had become a part of her life and the only person that she truly looked forward to seeing, to talking to, each day. To deny this would just be another lie in a long list of them, lies that had become a necessity in Sydney's daily routine. She had come to accept this as part of what she was doing, part of what she was all about. She was not, however, going to lie to herself.
The only thing that stood in the way was Danny, or rather Danny's ghost.
She had loved Danny and she would have married him if he had been alive. But the fact was that he was dead; she couldn't pretend that he was just "away." Yes, she had loved him, and it didn't matter that she was falling for someone else because she would always love him in a way.
But Vaughn was her lifeline—he kept her sane and alive and he made her feel like there was still a purpose to her life, and she loved him for it.
*************************************************************************** *******
Vaughn watched as Sydney crossed the warehouse floor and came to rest in front of him. She sat down on the desk across from him, her legs swinging down. Taking a cue from her he sat on his own desk and the two sat there looking at each other, legs dangling as if they were children.
Sydney spoke first. "It's not going to be easy."
"I know."
"Do you? Are you willing to sit chairs apart at a hockey game, or a row apart at the movies? To meet in a warehouse, or at a pier, because there's no way in hell we can be seen at each other's houses?"
"Sydney," Vaughn broke in, "do you think all of this hasn't occurred to me? It's crazy for us to try and do this—it's crazy and it's dangerous, and I must be out of my mind, but I want it."
"I'm never going to be able to forgive my mother for what she did to you, to your family. I know it's not my fault, but you have to accept that my mother's blood runs through my veins and I can't help feeling responsible for her actions because of that."
"I know, Syd, but if you want us to move on, move past this, then you can't feel guilty when you're around me. This can't be something you do out of pity."
"God, Vaughn," Sydney said, hurt, "I would never be with someone out of pity, okay? That's just…I wouldn't do that."
They sat in silence for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts.
"I can never be Danny."
"I know."
"Can you deal with that, deal with the fact that I'm not the man you thought you would marry? I can't live up to a ghost, Syd, and it wouldn't be fair to ask me to."
Sydney nodded her agreement. "I won't lie to you—I loved Danny and I would have married him if he was still here. But that doesn't mean that I'm incapable of loving another."
Again they sat in silence, absorbing the conversation.
Sydney started again, hesitant. "You represent so much to me, Vaughn; you're the one truth in my life of dishonesty. I don't know if you can comprehend how much that means to me—how important it is to me that you're in my life."
"I don't know if you've realized this," Vaughn said with a slight smile, "but you've occupied my thoughts for quite a while now. Things with Alice ended because she knew I was pulling away from her, knew that there was someone else on my mind. She knew it even before I did."
They stared at each other, neither moving for fear of interrupting this moment.
Vaughn broke the silence. "You asked me in London what I would even do without you. That's a question I don't know the answer to, and one that I never want to find out the answer to."
Sydney stared at him, blinking back tears, trying to understand why this wonderful man who, by all rights should hate her, instead wanted to love her. She smiled brilliantly at him, dimples showing for the first time in days, and as her eyes met his she realized the "why" didn't matter.
"Well, then, I guess there's only one more thing to say."
Vaughn tensed with apprehension—he had thought that their biggest issues were out of the way. "Okay, go for it. What else do you want to say to me?"
"Kiss me."
He smiled wide and slid off of the desk. He crossed the mere feet that separated them and looked down into her eyes.
And then he kissed her.
end.
* Ah, my love. My passion for you burns white hot. Kiss me, kiss me! You are my love, my life.
** Oh, how you tempt me, you beautiful devil woman. Won't you ever be satisfied? You will be the death of me, you crazy, gorgeous goddess! I must have you now!
*** My love for you is immeasurable. You stole my heart the first time I laid eyes on you and you've kept it ever since. I wake each morning hoping to see you and I treasure each moment we have together.
**** Even when I can't even look at you.