Part 10

My sister, Amy, says that people never really change. Now, by-and-large, blanket statements make me a little hot under the collar, so we usually get into an equally hot debate whenever the subject comes up. Every time I bring up people like Ghandi and Malcolm X and other men and women I've interviewed over my journalism career. Yet no matter how strong my arguments were, that people could change if they set their minds to it, she'd find a way to deflect every single one. I'll never know how she does it, but I keep a secret weapon in my back pocket: When the argument gets so intense that I can't stand it anymore I take out my wallet and pull my sobriety chip from an inner flap and flash it in front of her face. Well, she couldn't say anything contrary to that. She'd just shrug guiltily and say, "You're the exception, bro."

Of course I'd feel awful later, because that part of my life is complete fabrication. In what seems like eons ago, Jack Bristow himself, put that lie into motion when he injected me with heroine and dumped me in a drug den. He had to destroy my life in order to save it from the terrorist cell called SD-6. Of course, Amy will never know any of this.

And now I'm finally admitting, at least in my case, that she may be right. Despite the fact that I've gone through many metamorphoses in my life: reporter, recovering addict, intelligence analyst, construction worker and finally an agent for Central Intelligence—inside I'm still the same old Will who can't let go of anything.

He and Sydney kept pace with one another as they ran through the park early in the autumn twighlight. The air was crisp and cool, perfect for running, and for a while they let the rhythm of their shoes crunching the dried leaves underfoot be the only sounds between them. It was a comfortable arrangement. He enjoyed just being with her and Sydney seemed to enjoy not having to talk about the previous few months. Will didn't need to ask why. Everyone in the Agency knew that she and Vaughn had filed for divorce after only two years of marriage. People said it was to be expected. Two agents, with so much pressure in their lives, should have never gotten married in the first place. Only those who knew her best, like he and Jack remained silent on the subject, out of respect for Sydney.

Up ahead was a bridge that passed over a smallish stream. Sydney suddenly smiled.

"Wanna jump it," she asked playfully.

"What," Will laughed back, not really comprehending, but she had already darted ahead, making a quick veer to the side without him. He sped up to keep pace with her, continuing over the bridge as she leapt the five foot trench with ease.

"Show off," he called out to her jokingly.

A few yards later they stopped, hands on their knees and panting. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."

Wow, it was good to see her smiling again, he thought, and then he said so. He immediately wished he hadn't when the smile vanished from her face. "I'm sorry. I know I've been a drag to be around lately," she said.

"Shut up," he said, beginning to walk away as he wiped an arm across his sweaty brow.

"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.

Impulsively he turned around and grasped her shoulders in his large hands. "Shut up, Sydney," he said again, though his voice and expression was softer this time. "You aren't seriously apologizing to me for being a little messed up these last few months." She looked away, trying to hide the tears that sprang unbidden to her eyes. "You know I've always had your back."

"I know," she said.

Craning his neck so that he could look into her eyes, he smiled.

"Do you?"

She smiled weakly but honestly back, "Yeah."

"Good."

After that, they started the jog back. The atmosphere between them was much easier and they talked and joked as they used to until they reached their cars. The sun had almost set by then and they leaned against Will's jeep for a while, soaking up the last rays of the day. It was peaceful to just talk about normal things. Once upon a time Will wouldn't have let Sydney get away with not talking out her problems with him, but as the years had passed he'd learned to keep silent and let things just be between them. Usually, in her own time she'd come around and talk about it one way or another. He was satisfied.

Will stretched his arms over his head, liking the feeling of his tense muscles loosening. "Well, I guess its time for me to get back."

"Are you seeing Gina tonight?"

"Yeah, we're going to some silly art exhibit. I'm pretty sure my nephew could reproduce most of that stuff with his baby food," Sydney laughed at that and it made him feel good. "But what can I do? She likes it. And I have to do what she wants if I want her to say yes."

Sydney looked at him not comprehending at first but then her eyes lit in excitement, "No!"

He smiled, tentatively, "Yeah. I'm going to ask Gina to marry me tonight."

Sydney jumped on him, laughing and cheering, almost knocking him off his feet as she squeezed him tightly. "Oh my god! You're getting married! Oh my god!"

"Only if she says yes," he said, leaning his chin on her head. "Do you think she will?"

"If she doesn't, I think I'm going to have to beat her up!" she exclaimed, pulling back to raise her hand in a mock fist.

"That's not exactly the answer I was looking for," he laughed.

The moment grew unexpectedly tender as Sydney looked up into Will's eyes. "She'll say yes," she said and then laid her head to rest against his chest. They just stood there for a long time holding each other as Will stroked her hair while Sydney softly cried.

On his way home, Will took the ring out of his jacket pocket and locked it up in the glove compartment.