Author: Angela Evans
Email: angel33296@aol.com
Feedback: Please
Rating: PG
Distribution: FF.net, CM, all others please ask.
Spoilers: "The Telling", S2 Finale
Summary: Season Three Premiere: "Two Girls, Vaughn, and A Drawer"
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own any of them, or they would not have been abused so. Shamelessly stole the title from the upcoming Merchant Ivory movie of the same name…all brought to you by the number 47 and the new FORD FOCUS!
Classification: Satire/Parody, AU, S/Will, blatant corporate advertising, not exactly Vaughn-friendly…or anybody-friendly for that matter.
Author's Note: This is meant in jest…I doubt there are any real season three spoilers here.
After informing Sydney of her two-year absence from the world, Agent Michael Vaughn realized he now had a lot to think about. Specifically should he dump Alice now that Sydney was back or stay with her. It was a lot more complicated than the last time since he was actually married to Alice now. Perhaps he could work out some sort of arrangement with the both of them – Monday-Wednesday-Friday with Alice, Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday with Sydney, and alternating Sundays.
He said as much to his best friend, Eric Weiss. After recovering from his initial resentment towards Vaughn for once again being the office playboy, Weiss tried to be helpful by suggesting he take Sydney – or, he added, as an afterthought, Alice – off Vaughn's hands. The two men quickly realized, however, that Vaughn would have to make a choice. Faced with such a gargantuan – or, as some might see it, uncomplicated – choice, Vaughn discarded Weiss's suggestion to make a list of each girl's pros and cons and went out for a very long walk.
Before long, he found himself walking in the direction of the pier, that magical spot where Sydney had first touched his hand in a gesture of adoration. Not surprisingly, Vaughn found he was not alone, for Sydney had also made her way there. Vaughn walked up beside her and looked out over the Pacific Ocean. Precisely 47.4747 seconds later, she turned to him and opened her mouth, "Vaughn…"
Listening to her, Vaughn realized that it was the same issues as always: blah blah her mother, blah blah her father, blah blah Rambaldi, blah blah Sloane, blah blah Will, blah blah Francie, blah blah SD6, blah blah FORD FOCUS, blah blah Kendall, blah blah spy sex, blah blah blah…He tuned back in just in time for her summary, "So, what do we do now?"
In that moment, everything became crystal clear to Vaughn. Something clicked and he realized, just in that moment, the meaning of life. Of course, that not being the issue at hand, he quickly pushed it out of his mind and realized that he had already made his choice – there was only one woman he could ever be with for the rest of his life.
"I'm staying with Alice."
"WHAT?!?!?!?!" Sydney exclaimed (this was a habit she had picked up from Francie in their last misadventure).
Vaughn's face lit up with a smile. "I'm staying with Alice! She loves me, she has none of your issues, and even if she looks too old for me, she's normal! I can have the white picket fence and 2.5 children and twin Chocolate Labs that match our Espresso FORD FOCUSES with his and hers vanity plates!"
Sydney was staring at him. "Well," she sniffed when her expert spy skills told her he was finished, "I hope you're happy with normal. I'm going to go shack up with Will. At least HE cares about ME and MY problems and isn't all 'Me this' and 'Me that'." Vaughn was too busy delighting the end to his conundrum to point out the hypocrisy of her statement. Realizing that she had once again lost his attentions, Sydney stormed off in a huff, making a mental note to mention Vaughn's mistreatment of her to her father. That would fix him, she thought.
Vaughn arrived home soon after the pier, unaware of his impending doom at the hands of Jack Bristow. Instead, he was whistling and carrying a rather large and colorful bouquet of flowers. As soon as he stepped inside the door, he called out, "Honey! I'm home!"
Alice entered the hallway suspiciously. "'Honey'? And flowers? Michael, what have you done?"
"Done? Why do you always assume I've done something?"
"Because you always have!" Vaughn thought about this and decided it was fair enough.
"All of that ends now, though, for I have decided who I want to spend the rest of my life with, the woman who I will smother with love until my premature death. You." He held the rather large and colorful bouquet out to her.
"Oh now you've done it," she pouted.
"Done what, mon cherí?" Vaughn had to admit he was very confused.
"Ruined everything! It's no fun when you want me! My love for you is meant to be unrequited! Bastard!" She grabbed the rather large and colorful bouquet and began to hit him over the head with it.
"Ow! Hey!" Vaughn ducked the maelstrom of petals and leaves raining down on his head. "Mais ma peu de prune de sucre, c'est vous –"
"Did you just call me a prune?! Speaking French will not get you anywhere with me, mister!"
"But…everything sounds sexier in French," Vaughn protested.
"Then try this…je veux un divorce!"
Vaughn could not believe his ears. "You want a divorce? But…I speak French, and bring you rather large and colorful bouquets, and…"
But Alice would not hear any of his protestations and proclamations of undying love. Soon Vaughn found himself on the front porch, Donovan's leash in one hand and a bag in the other. He turned to make one last appeal to Alice, who firmly slammed the door shut in his face. Vaughn sat down and pondered where to go for the night, and after taking a short break to count his forehead wrinkles, he came to the only logical conclusion.
Half an hour later, he was standing on another front porch. He knocked, and the door swung open, revealing Eric Weiss. "Didn't work out, eh? Well, I've got a drawer you can have." Weiss lead him into the apartment. "And, oh yeah, I'd avoid Jack Bristow, if I were you…"
Fin
Note: "This was a habit she had picked up from Francie in their last misadventure" refers to another parody that I done called 'Another Night At The Karaoke Bar'. It's on FF.net under my profile.
"Mais ma peu de prune de sucre, c'est vous" – "But my little sugar plum, you are…"