Apres L'étreinte (After the Hug)
Vaughn was at a loss. Sydney was usually so tough; he'd never seen her this upset before. It felt weird holding her, letting her cry on his shoulder right in the middle of the Joint Task Force offices, where just a few hours ago people were talking, working, computers buzzing away. How ironic that he finally had the chance to hold Sydney, but in the most unromantic place he could think of, all black monitors and gray walls. He thought for a moment about what could make Sydney, that most compartmentalized of women, completely open up to him, and come to him wordless and crying. It occurred to him almost immediately; it must be her father. He instantly regretted planting the seed of her father's betrayal in Syd's mind. Did I do this?
But no, Jack is the one that betrayed Sydney's trust. Jack Bristow is the consummate cold warrior; he probably strategized in his sleep. Vaughn was sure it was easy for Jack to convince himself that setting up Sydney's mother Irina, setting up Sydney herself, was the best course of action, even the only course of action, to best protect Sydney. What Sydney needs right now is a friend, he mused. With her mother in federal custody, possibly facing the death penalty for her decidedly awful crimes (real and those created by Jack), and her father, a distant man at the best of times, revealed as the man who had explosives planted to prove that Irina was not to be trusted, and almost killing Sydney and himself in the process, Sydney must be feeling very alone.
I said I was her ally. And I am, Vaughn thought decidedly. So here she was, in his arms, and all he wanted to do was kiss her to make the tears go away. But while an admittedly attractive option, it probably wouldn't help her in the long run. Sydney needs someone to talk to, someone neutral but caring. And once we go down that path, he thought ruefully, I don't think I will be able to let go. But a romance between agent and handler could mean not only his expulsion from the CIA, but the death of Sydney Bristow at the hands of SD-6 when they inevitable found out she was involved with a CIA employee.
So he would hold her as long as she needed to be held, buy her coffee, listen to her while she expressed whatever she wanted to tell him. Anything to help Sydney, the most exciting, dizzying, electrifying woman he had ever met. But he would have to control himself, for both of their sakes. For both of their lives.
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Sydney couldn't stop crying. When she remembered the look on her father's face as she told him she would never forgive him, she felt a deep ache inside her. She had never seem him in so much pain, not even when he found out that her mother, his wife, a KGB spy, was still alive. But what right did Jack Bristow have to be hurt? He lied to her. All the while he was pretending to protect her, he was really protecting himself. She was his little experiment, his Baby Spy. What kind of a person trains his daughter to be a spy, and then erases her memory, only to have it churned up later, when it was too late to get out of the spy game and be normal? What kind of a man keeps a distance from his only child, even when she was alone, and hurting, and needing a father to comfort her? How excited she had been these last few months, as she and her father grew closer, as a few chinks in his armor began to show. All of the love and attention she craved as a child was finally becoming a reality as her father talked to her more, looked out for her on her missions, let her in on his plans.
Now she saw everything from a different angle. Ever since her mother reappeared, Jack had been frantic that Sydney would find out the truth. He tried to keep her away from Irina, but it must have been obvious to him that it was pointless. How can you keep a daughter away from her mother? As much of a monster as Irina Derevko, a.k.a. Laura Bristow, was, Sydney couldn't help feeling that some little part of her must love her daughter, must be like the Laura Bristow she remembered as a child. Even Vaughn had implied the same.
Vaughn. She didn't even realize that she was heading toward him as she walked through the rain. How often does it rain in Los Angeles? Sydney barely felt the water on her face, on her head as she walked through the park. She entered the security code into the dummy phone without even thinking about it. As she stood and watched Vaughn working at his computer, alone, she felt another ache. How could she have yelled at him like that? When he suggested that her father might have planted the explosives in Madagascar, she lashed out at him. She knew how much she wounded him by calling him "irrelevant". She managed to cause pain to more than one person in the last few days. She was disgusted with herself, which only made her cry harder.As Vaughn turned toward her, finally seeing her after looking around as he sensed that he wasn't alone, she saw first the look of surprise, then concern, in his face. She lost all pretense of being in control of herself as she walked toward him, shoulders slumped, face turned downward to hide what must be her red nose and dripping mascara. Without question he took in his arms, and held her as she cried uncontrollably. She knew how unprofessional this was. She was supposed to be able to control her feeling, to take care of herself. But Vaughn had said he was her ally. As he held her, she knew that he was. She knew there would be no recriminations for her treatment of him, or "I told you so's". He would support her without making her feel guilty, or that she owed him anything.
He was the most decent man she had ever met. Danny was a fantastic person, but he didn't understand how hard her life was, is. Will is such a sweet guy, she thought, but he can barely take care of himself. And her father, well, she couldn't even think about her feelings for him without feeling sick. But Vaughn had always supported her, from the minute she breezed into the FBI building in her stolen red wig and told him her story. He seemed to be alternatively bemused by her and worried for her during the course of their professional relationship. But he never talked down to her, never condescended. He just accepted her and the complicated mess that was her life. He knew everything, and he still respected her, maybe even had feelings for her. If only…
She would have to speak; they couldn't stay like this forever (as nice as it was). "My father, you were right all along. He did order the entrance to be wired with explosives to set up Mom. He almost killed us."
"I am so sorry, Sydney. I wish it wasn't true."
"But it gets worse." She had a hard time continuing. It was so awful that she was ashamed that her own father could so such a thing. But she forced herself, "Do you remember the project Dad was working on when my mother disappeared, Project Christmas? It turns out it was a plan to train children as spies. Here in America. And I was his guinea pig." She almost broke down again, but stopped herself before another round of tears began.
"Sydney, are you sure? I thought it was the KGB who originally came up with that idea."
"Vaughn, I'm sure. The CIA psychologist helped me remember. I remember solving the block puzzle, loading a gun. All with Dad looking on approvingly."
"You must have felt awful when you found out."
"I did. I didn't want to believe it. But he didn't deny it."
"You confronted him with this?"
"I had to. I wanted to see what he had to say for himself."
"What did he say?"
"Well," she hesitated. What did he say? "I didn't give him much of a chance. But he didn't stop me. And he looked so guilty, and so, so, sad." The tears were welling up again.
Vaughn took her hand. It was ice cold. "Let's get out of here. You need to get warm. And dry." He fingered a strand of her wet hair as it fell in front of her face.
Sydney smiled sheepishly. "OK, but I don't want to go home. I don't think I can face Francie and Will right now. Maybe we could go…"
"Syd, I can't take you to my place. You never know if SD-6 is watching. It's no secret I'm CIA".
Sydney looked dejected. Reality set in as she realized her life wasn't normal. It was anything but normal. As Vaughn saw the look on her face, he felt terrible. Did she really need to hear this? He suddenly had an idea. It went against everything he had promised himself just a few minutes ago. But Sydney didn't deserve to be abandoned. Not again. Not by him.
"Hold on one sec." He let go of her hand, and went back to his desk to use the phone. A few minutes later he was back with a smile. "I have a place we can go."
Sydney didn't hesitate. She followed him out to the garage, a long walk through tunnel after tunnel, elevator after elevator. They didn't speak. Sydney was exhausted. But at the same time, she couldn't imagine going home. At home she had to pretend. She had to pretend for Francie. And even though Will knew about her life, she couldn't really talk to him. He was still so wounded himself, wounded by coming into contact with her life, her other life. Walking through the garage with Vaughn, getting into his non-descript car, she felt safe. She didn't have to say anything, she didn't have to explain. She trusted him completely.
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