Summary: It should never have been, but it happened anyway, and neither Syd nor Weiss are complaining…

Spoilers: S3, After Crossings, once Sydney is back in her new apartment. A few elements from After Six.

Endless author's notes and disclaimer: Eric Weiss rules! Thank you, Greg, for bringing him to life the way you did! High Five! And thank you Jennifer Garner for having impersonated feminine grace and vulnerability set in ironclad strength of character and powerful moves. You make believe in feminine heroism. I dedicate to both this modest contribution to enrich the fabric of the Alias Alternate Universe.

Screenwriters, before you sue me for the pennies I haven't got: remember that this story could only exist because you created the characters (yes, I willingly admit they're not mine!) that made me want to write a fanfic about them. Let's quarrel no more over the subject of who owns what…

Kudos to my extraordinary betas who made this fic all better: Hubby, Imperfectly, Skydreams03, and Prinsage.
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Prologue

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The sheets of water kept on coming down. Hard. Cold.

The walls were fading, trapping her in an a vortex that methodically squeezed all life out of her body.

Loved

Kissed

Never again

Loved...

If only her soul could stop circling the drain...
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Part 1: The Zen Art of Cooking for a Friend


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Eric Weiss was getting antsy.

He'd been home since 4 p.m. It was almost 6 p.m. and he'd spent most of that time in his kitchen. He'd prepared enough pizza dough to last until Monday, if need be. He'd also chopped up all sorts of toppings and shredded his own special blend of cheeses. All of these goodies were now in the fridge, waiting to be cooked when the time came.

The routine was pretty well-established by now.

It usually started with Sydney Bristow, colleague and Spy Girl extraordinaire, going on op. Invariably after that, craziness of one kind or another ensued; Spy Girl did her thing and cheated death yet again, give or take a few abrasions and contusions. Then she would come back to the Ops Center for her debrief.

When that was over, she'd head home, leaving her Spy Girl persona behind. And the other Sydney Bristow, his neighbor, lonely and recently returned from the dead, would ring him. Soon after, he'd go over to her place with a bottle of Chianti or some beer, and a pizza a-la-Weiss. The two of them would rehash her latest adventure. They'd chitchat and laugh about this and that until the wine or beer were gone, or one of them-insert "Syd" here-fell asleep.

It was safe, comfortable fun. It was also very satisfying for him, since he got to do one of his favorite things: be there for a friend.

Right now, he'd just finished reducing a triple batch of tomato sauce laced with his secret ingredients. Since she'd discovered it, Sydney couldn't get enough of the stuff. She'd already tried all sorts of tricks, from bribery to promised torture to tickling, in the hope of getting the recipe out him. But so far, the secret formula remained safely lodged in his head, where he had exclusive access to it. A cook has his reputation to protect.

In all honesty though, he kept his mouth shut because there's nothing like a secret to keep a spy's interest. And he didn't mind enduring Syd's prying if it meant she would concentrate on something other than her abysmal lack of social life since she came back.

He turned off the dial on the stove and stopped to contemplate his work. Pizza dough: check; Sauce and toppings: check; beer in fridge: check. So far, so good. They'd have sustenance to survive the mother-of-all-pow-wow sessions he knew was in store for the both of them tonight.

Now, all that was missing was Syd and the massive mental baggage she'd been carrying around when he'd seen her earlier at the Ops Center.

He'd spotted her as she came directly from the plane, all scratched and bruised. But what he'd really noticed was the interaction between her and Vaughn. If his pretty sharp observation skills hadn't betrayed him, her external injuries only told a small part of the North Korean stint. It figured: facing imminent death with your married-to-someone-else ex-lover… Well, Weiss didn't think there was a self-help book for that one.

God, there were times when being an unattached bachelor with no love life or prospect thereof felt like the epitome of grace...

With an ease born from practice, he began to put some order around the kitchen. Surely, she'd be along any minute now. The corners of his mouth moved up in anticipation.

Whether he would admit or not, Weiss had always had a "thing" for Sydney. Wouldn't have minded showing her one or two of his tricks if Vaughn hadn't stepped in and ruined it for the rest of mankind. No hard feelings though. Once it was clear these two had the stuff of romance books going on between them, Sydney had become as sacred and untouchable as the Holy Grail. Some paths were never meant to be taken, and he had resigned himself to that.

Now, it was best pals all the way, which was fine by him. And since the North Korean debacle was over and everyone was home safe and sound, Weiss had every intention of enjoying each second of Syd's company this evening had to offer. In their line of business, stolen good times were a precious commodity.

Being friends with Sydney wasn't all laughs and parties, though. There were darker times. It had been wonderful having her around again at first. Soon though, his happiness at her return was marred with the sorrow of seeing two of his best friends torn apart by their impossible situation. The pain and heartache Syd and Mike had had to go through. Two years sucked down the drain... Fate could play some seriously sucky jokes sometimes.

Weiss considered himself a rather imaginative guy, but he still couldn't quite wrap his mind around this one. What would it be like to wake up one day and find out that your closest friends were dead or gone, the love of your life was married to someone else, you had no recollection of your whereabouts during said timeframe, nor did you have any possessions left to remind you of who you were, before...

For a moment, he made a conscious effort to concentrate on cleaning the remnants of pizza dough off the kitchen counter top. He wasn't easily spooked, but Syd's situation just gave him the creeps...

It didn't help that he had a starring role in this little soap opera production of theirs. Old pal Mike across town. New pal Syd across the hall. Old friendship barely resisting to the pull of marriage and the return of the prodigal girl. New friendship building on the shaky grounds of loneliness and close proximity. Showdowns every day at the office. Could it get any weirder than this? In an odd way, Vaughn had it somewhat easy…ier. After all, he had Lauren to come home to.

It wasn't like Weiss looked down on Vaughn for the decisions his friend had made. Mike had suffered through agony. He'd made it to the other side and chosen to live when the opportunity had presented itself. He loved his wife, of that Weiss was certain. Maybe not as deeply as he had loved Sydney, but enough to link his life to Lauren's for good. That would never have happened if Vaughn's feelings hadn't been true, no matter how desperate the man might have been for a semblance of normalcy.

It was almost unbelievable that Vaughn had even made it through Sydney's "death" at all, Weiss reflected as he put away the last of the utensils in the dishwasher. He could still hear the desperate sobs his friend had spilled on his shoulder, that damned sunny day by the ocean's edge, two years ago…

Weiss mentally shook himself from the buzz that was taking a hold of him. Time to loosen up, man. The kiddo would probably need an all-night pass to the Weiss House of Laughs very soon. He'd better put his fun man suit on and be ready for a Tony-worthy performance.

…Which reminded him that Syd hadn't called yet.

He stopped moving about the kitchen altogether. Everything was quiet in the building. Even the downstairs neighbors had for once forgone their daily screaming match. Despite his better judgment, Weiss walked to his apartment door and listened. He didn't know how, or why, but some time after Sydney came back, he'd gotten this deranged idea that it was his personal mission to keep an eye on her. It was silly and borderline stalker-of-the-week, but as much as he wished he wouldn't worry about her, he simply couldn't help it.

It was kind of hilarious, when he thought about it. Sydney hardly fit the helpless waif in need of a valiant knight description. In fact, if she knew about the over-protective streak he had developed, chances were she would kick his butt from here to Langley. Still, without giving anything away, he'd been keeping watch on the "apartment across the hall" as he'd nicknamed it. It sounded more clinical, less crazed brother spying on his reckless little sis...

That was how, over the past few weeks, he had learned all of her cues. The clicking of her keys while she opened her door and closed it quietly behind her after a long day. The swooshing and creaking of the wood when she was getting her paper in the morning. And the slamming? Well, after he'd stabilized the dishes in his pantry, he'd worked it out as a dead giveaway she was leaving for a while, ready to take on the world.

He was pretty sure he'd heard her earlier. The keys had been more quiet than usual, but he could still tell it was her, slipping in surreptitiously hoping no one would notice.

Since she was bound to call soon, he'd opened the fridge and put a six-pack on the counter. Had to be ready for the all-night talk...

…That was more than an hour ago. And she still hadn't given any sign of life.

"Dammit, Bristow", he muttered under his breath as he exchanged the tepid six-pack for a cold one. "Don't you pull that clam-in-the-shell crap on me..."

Beer in one hand, keys in his jeans pocket, Weiss got out of his apartment and across the hall. Composing himself to fit his cool man reputation, he braced up, knocked on Agent Bristow's door, and waited for her to open.

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tbc
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Next time, in Part 2: A Wake-Up Call

"Weapon drawn, Weiss checked again behind him and around for a possible intruder. When he saw no one, he put his left hand on the shower stall door and gently pushed..."
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