Chapter Four

Between Friends


Los Angeles


Located deep within field branch headquarters, the CIA gym was much like any other. Rows of treadmills and exercise bikes vied for space with both machine- and free- weights, while an impressive collection of medicine balls and floor-mats were stacked neatly against the walls, ready for use. As with any space used solely for physical activities for a prolonged period of time, the sharp scent of stale sweat lingered in the room, in spite of the whirring fans going full bore.

"Damn fitness evals, don't know why we have them, it's not like we're field rated or anything. You do not need to be able to run a mile in eight minutes to man a desk."

"They do it just to annoy you, Eric." Grinned Vaughn in response to his friend's resigned grousing. Idly scratching at the adhesive patch of one of the heart-rate monitors attached to his chest, he casually added. "Besides, I think one of the nurses has a crush on you."

"Really?" If Weiss had been a dog, his ears would have pricked up. As it was he turned his head in the direction of the CIA med-techs running the exams, considering that they were almost directly behind him, he was displaying a surprising amount of agility by not tripping over his own feet. "Which one?"

"Dorman." Vaughn named the senior med-tech, a brown-haired woman in her mid-fifties who possessed strong Romanesque features and a dirty sense of humour. His grin turned into a good-natured smirk as Weiss's head whipped back towards the front. "There's no other reason for her t- WHOA!!"

Vaughn slipped and shot off the back of the treadmill as suddenly increased it speed to the highest setting. Nodding sympathetically at the prone agent, Weiss innocently asked "Mike? Are you alright?"


~~~


"God, I feel like such a tool." Flopping heavily into the chair opposite Will, Francie buried her face in her hands, elbows scattering some of the papers carpeting his table.

"Watch the papers!" he yelped, frantically rescuing the crumpled documents, "I'm not even supposed to have them. The library staff will have my ass if they get damaged."

"I don't care." Francie started rhythmically bashing her head against the table. "I am..."
-thunk-

"...such an..."

-thunk-

"...insensitive dolt." At 'dolt' Francie stopped, head flush against the table, and let out a heartfelt groan.

Will looked at her and sighed, dragging his chair around next to hers, he put his hand on her shoulder. "Francie, it can't be that bad. Tell me."

Without moving her head, she replied. "It is."

"C'mon France," putting his chin on the table, he added coaxingly, "You know I'm not going to leave you alone unless you tell me."

Still talking to the papers on the table, Francie began.

"Okay, so this is what happened…


~~~


"One more box and we are done." Hands on hips, Francie stood proudly in what had been chaos mere hours before. "I think that's the fastest any student in the entire history of this college has unpacked their stuff before. How did you do it?"

Wiping dust off her forehead with the back of her wrist, Sydney answered "I've had a lot of practice. Mom and I, well, we moved around a lot when I was younger."

"Only your mom and you?" Francie pulled the lid off the last box. "Your parents divorced?"

"Uh, no. Dad died when I was little, about six and a half." She paused for a moment, "Car crash."

"Oh Syd, I'm so sorry." Looking away uncomfortably for a moment, a bright flash of light on the floor caught Francie's eye, stooping she picked up a gold locket on a thin chain. Although the engraving on the oval face was slightly worn, the name "Sydney" was still legible. It was open, revealing the portrait of a young man with curly, dark hair, keen eyes and a boyish grin.

"Syd, who's this guy?" She handed the locket over "He's totally cute."

"Oh, that's my dad. He gave me this locket for my sixth birthday." Sydney flashed a small, sad smile at Francie. "It's the only picture of him I have."


~~~


"And that's it?"

Francie raised her head incredulously, "What do you mean 'and that's it'? She'd just told me her father had died and I'm drooling over his photo. I must've sounded like a total skank."

"Francie, I doubt you sounded like any kind of skank. Did Syd seem angry to you?"

"Well, no. But…"

"But nothing." Will cut her off, "She probably understands it was just an honest mistake on your part."

"I know." She admitted grudgingly, "It's just, I feel so embarrassed."

"Well you should." Will was unable to contain a snort. "You thought her dad was cute?"

Francie punched him in the arm, hard. "It was an old picture, and he was very cute."

"Cuter than me?"

"Yes." Suddenly taking an interest in the documents she had scattered, Francie asked, "What are anyway?"

"Class lists."

Looking more closely, Francie raised an elegant eyebrow. "From the seventies?"

"There's a couple from the early eighties as well." Will started sorting through them again. "They're for some research."

"McKinley again?"

"Kinda." He waggled his left hand in the air. "I couldn't find the donors for one of the scholarships. Now that's not entirely unusual in the older ones. However, this was from less than twenty years ago. More like fifteen."

Recognising the potential trouble, Francie decided to play devil's advocate "Will, maybe it was just an anonymous donor, not exactly unusual."

"An anonymous donor, no, but several, over a period of years, less so. And for a professor who was supposedly well liked and respected?" Francie just looked at him, eyebrow cocked. "Okay, so it's probably nothing. But maybe, just maybe, it's something."

"Besides, I know how you are with mysteries. You won't stop until you hit a brick wall, sometimes not even then." Getting up, Francie patted him on the shoulder, "I just hope you know what you're doing."


~~~


"This weekend? Nothing much," Vaughn shrugged as he jogged, "lounge around the apartment, take Donnie for a walk, maybe get some reading done."

"The glamorous life of a secret agent." Weiss quipped as he adjusted his treadmill's speed. "Mike, we have got to get you a life, in fact my sister..."

"No."

"But I haven't even finished!" was the plaintive reply to his friend's flat dismissal.

"Eric," Vaughn shook his head slowly "I know what you're going to say, your sister knows a really nice girl."

"She does, and she's just right for you."

"But," he held up his right index finger, "what you weren't going to tell me was that this girl is actually the best friend of a girl you want to go out with, but who has the good sense not to want to be seen in public with you and you're hoping that if I go out with her friend she'll realise what a catch you are, am I right?"

"Hey!"

"Am I right?"

"Well...yeah. Hey, Mike, did you know you sounded just like Bristow then?"

Vaughn shot a wary look at him, "Seriously?"

Weiss's head bobbed like a nodding dog in the back of a car "You've even got the Eric-Weiss-I-am-so-far-ahead-of-you-don't-even-try-to-pull-one-over-on-me tone of voice."

Slapping the treadmill's stop button, Vaughn asked "When did you meet Jack?"

"After his last meeting with Barnett, he practically ran me down in the hall. He scares me…a lot." Weiss turned off his own treadmill before adding "So, you'll meet this girl?"

He grinned as he took a long swig from his water bottle. "You just don't stop, do you Eric?"

"Nope."

"I'll think about it. What's her name?"

"Uh, lemme think…" A small crease appeared between his eyebrows as he mumbled to himself, "Yeah, that's it, Alice."