The Trouble With Bach
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: Please See Header of Chapter One.
During the diva's standing ovation she'd lost sight of him. He was behind her and then he wasn't. *Hm, she thought, for a desk jockey, Vaughn was very good at quick escapes.* It pained her a little to think that he had disappeared into the crowd. Sharing not only the tragedy of La Traviata but also their own sorrowful pasts was something she didn't want to conceal in stolen moments. For the first time in her life, someone understood every demon she ever fought, because he fought them as well.
Wrapping her shoulders in the silk scarf, she headed into the dispersing crowd, cautiously scanning the masses for signs of her guardian angel to no avail. *He might have left a glass slipper,* she mused silently. Then she caught herself, *No, Syd, what are you saying? Are you saying the Vaughn is some sort of secret agent Prince Charming? Fairy tales have no place in the life of a spy.*
Still, she couldn't help but be disappointed for his disappearance.
As she rounded the corner to her SUV, she noticed something peculiar on the hood. Instinct told her to react cautiously. A bomb? Some kind of tracking device maybe? Yet as she got closer, the item came into clear view and caused her heart to pound. A rose… a single white rose wrapped with an iridescent ribbon, which held a small card. "Joy is born of life's tragedies. Beauty blossoms in the storm. V."
"Syd?"
She turned, and smiled widely thinking he had changed his mind and decided to deliver the bloom in person, but was shocked to find Will Tipin standing before her instead.
"Will!" She tried to place the flower out of sight. "What are you doing here?"
"I made it out to Cavannagh's anyway and after a few drinks, I noticed the time. Just right for seeing you home from the opera."
"I have my car, Will." His excuse was flimsy at best.
"Yeah, well," he shuffled his feet. "I guess I didn't think it through."
"Are you drunk?" she asked.
"Probably," he admitted.
"Get in. I'll take you home. You can pick your car up tomorrow.""
He walked towards her sheepishly, his hand reaching down to her side and picking the rose out of her grasp. "An admirer?"
She tried in vain to take it back before he read the card, but it was too late. "Who's V?"
"A friend," she said, stoically.
"I thought I knew all your friends," he muttered.
"Not this one. It's someone I work with," she said. "It's no big deal."
"This is the frame guy, isn't it?"
She again grasped for the rose and he tried to pull away from her, but not before losing his balance, too many beers taking their toll on his equilibrium. Sydney reached to steady him and caught him in her arms. Taking advantage of the closeness Will touched her face with his finger, stroking the contours of her cheek, her lips.
"You need someone to take care of you," he said. "You think you're so strong, but I see it. It's just a matter of time before you admit it, Syd. One of these days you're going to have to open up to someone."
He tried to kiss her and she pulled away, quickly righting him and pushing him gently to the passenger side of the car. "Get in," she ordered. "You need coffee."
The truth was, he was right. Only Will could never be that someone.
As she crossed back to the driver's door, she held the rose to her nose and inhaled its fragrant scent. Looking back to the now desolate Pavilion, she wondered where that someone had run off to. Did he have someone to go to? Someone who wanted him to open up to her just as Will asked of her? Had he replaced Alice with another girl oblivious to his real life?
She opened the car door and slid in. It would do no good to wonder about things she had no control over. Taking her drunken friend home was a task she could handle. One step at a time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Vaughn watched from a secluded corner of the parking lot as Sydney approached her car. Maybe he'd chance it. Maybe he'd get in and drive off somewhere with her where they could talk. Somewhere they could just be people. What were the odds that SD-6 had followed her to the opera? That they were watching her right this minute? This once, it couldn't hurt to be near her…
He had just taken a step out of his hiding place when he noticed a man walking toward her. His hand automatically slipped inside his jacket to retrieve his gun. A cautious moment later he realized that she knew this man. She was smiling and nodding. He watched as the stranger staggered. "Drunk," he said bitterly. Something inexplicable grabbed a hold of him and made his blood boil when the stranger grabbed the rose from her hand and read his words.
"Will Tipin," he whispered. Surely, it couldn't be anyone else. As he watched Will fall into her arms he had to stop himself from reacting. He wanted to help her. The gentleman in him would never have let her deal with a drunk on her own, but he knew it was not his place.
More unaccountable feelings surged within him as he watched him stroke her cheek and brush his finger over her lips. The exchange didn't last long however, as Sydney quickly ushered him to the passenger seat. "Good girl," he said with a wry smile.
Did she stop and smell his rose? Or was that his imagination? More importantly, where was she going with this drunkard Will?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
An hour later, Sydney quietly slipped into the apartment, hoping not to wake Francie. Will's misguided attempts at expanding their relationship had her preoccupied. She should never have kissed him those months ago. He harbored some kind of misdirected brotherly affection for her and had started to think of it as romantic love. Eventually, they would need to air this out.
She peeked in Francie's door as she made her way to her own room. Empty. So much for her tiptoeing. More than likely she was bunking with Charlie tonight. The instant she opened her door she sensed something was off. She bent and lit her bedside lamp, and quickly took in the radius of the room as she straightened. No, not right at all. To the naked eye it was exactly as she had left it, but she knew something was off. It was then that she saw the note on the mirror written in her own burgundy lipstick.
"You have something I want…and I have something you love. Pier 34. 5 a.m." It was signed simply with an imprint of a kiss.
"Anna."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Vaughn fumbled for the phone in the dark of his bedroom. "Hello?"
"It's me," Sydney said.
He sat straight up in the bed. "What is it? What's wrong? Did Will do something?"
"Will?" She shook off his question. "I need you. It's urgent. Meet me at our usual spot in 20 minutes."
"I'll be there." He was already dressing before the phone hit the receiver. Something was very wrong. Sydney would never break protocol unless it was an emergency. He on the other hand seemed to be breaking it for her in spades. Nick at Nite…La Traviata…white roses… What if his mistakes had caught up to her? He couldn't think about that now. Now, Sydney needed him. Feelings of guilt rose up in him as he realized whatever the urgency was; he was pleased because it meant he would be with her.
When he arrived at the warehouse she was already waiting and pacing. "Sydney, what's going on?"
"Anna has Francie," she blurted.
"Francie? Your roommate, Francie? How? Are you sure?"
"She left her calling card scrawled in red lipstick on my mirror. She says I have something she wants and Francie is her bargaining chip."
"What do you have?" Vaughn ran his hand through his sleep tussled hair.
"I have no idea, but I'm almost confident that it has nothing to do with Rimbaldi. This is something personal. I can feel it."
"What are her terms?" he asked, then quickly added, "I should call Devlin."
"No!" she rushed toward him. "Vaughn, this isn't some CIA operation. This is Francie! I'm not going to let the agency run this one. If you can't accept that, I understand. But if you want to help me…I need you Vaughn. Michael, I need you." Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Vaughn grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her in close. "Sydney, she's ok. Francie's ok." Oh god, his heart was breaking. How much could one woman possibly endure? Her fiancé, her father's deceptions, her mother's treachery and now her best friend. He pulled a bit harder until she collapsed against his chest. "I won't call Devlin. We'll do this together."
She looked up at him; her eyes swimming in oceans of unshed tears. "We have to Vaughn. We have to."
His fingers grasped her chin and held it fast to keep her eyes trained on his as he spoke. "I won't let anything happen to her, Sydney. I promise you."
3:00 a.m. Sydney's Apartment
Vaughn and Sydney were searching through her personnel things for any sign of something that might be of interest to Anna.
"Think," Sydney demanded. "Anna…K-Directorate…KGB…it must be something to do with my mother, but what?"
Vaughn sifted through a memory box filled with pictures, letters and clippings. Buried at the bottom was the frame he had given her for Christmas, it held a picture of a little girl and a beautiful woman who resembled Sydney. "Is this you, with your mom?" he asked.
She turned away from the dresser drawer she was pillaging to look. Her face was crestfallen. "Yes. Vaughn, it's not the frame…I just, I needed some time before I could replace the photograph…"
"You don't have to explain anything to me." He held the picture up to the dim light. "I like the pig tails," he joked, trying hard to break the very thick layer of ice.
Sydney walked toward him and gently took the frame from his hand, looking at her own image. "I used to raid her jewelry box for barrettes, hair clips, beads, you name it."
She quickly dropped the photo on the bed and ran to the closet, standing on a few discarded boxes to reach the top shelf. "Help me with this," she ordered.
Vaughn was at her side in a moment, taking the very large ornate box from her hands. "Put it over there," she said, as she pointed toward the bed.
They both stood over the box for a moment, as if admiring the craftsmanship. "I remember the day it came, though I couldn't have been more than four. Dad had it shipped by special courier while he was off on one of his many trips. Next to her books, it was the thing she treasured most in this world. The few jewels she owned meant less than the box that held them. I never understood why. I should have remembered this long ago."
Vaughn placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, an offering of comfort he couldn't verbalize. "You think this is what Anna's after?"
"Maybe… or maybe there's something hidden inside." Sydney opened the box quickly and dumped the contents onto the bed as if it were garbage. Each small compartment and drawer she pulled out and discarded among the pile of rings and bracelets. When it seemed like there was nothing left… no sign of a secret compartment or latch she caught sight of herself in the small vanity mirror. For a split second it was her mother's image she saw reflected there.
Then in her minds eye she remembered a day from her childhood. She is looking at herself in the same mirror, clearly sneaking a look at the jewelry while her mother is out of the room. Her fingers are touching her reflection, dazzled by the sparkling earrings she has placed on her petite ears.
"Sydney Bristow, didn't I tell you never to go into Mommy's treasure box unless she is with you?"
Sydney jumps in the memory and in the present time. Her hands fly to the mirror and she turns it slightly. The mirror acts as a latch, which opens the lid to reveal a thin compartment. Inside is a sealed envelope with Cyrillic script inked across it.
Sydney and Vaughn read it aloud together. "Espinosa Bristow Confidential Records, September 17, 1974."
To be continued……
See… I told you it wouldn't be ALL romantic angst. But take heart shippers, more Syd/Vaughn warm and fuzzies coming up.
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: Please See Header of Chapter One.
During the diva's standing ovation she'd lost sight of him. He was behind her and then he wasn't. *Hm, she thought, for a desk jockey, Vaughn was very good at quick escapes.* It pained her a little to think that he had disappeared into the crowd. Sharing not only the tragedy of La Traviata but also their own sorrowful pasts was something she didn't want to conceal in stolen moments. For the first time in her life, someone understood every demon she ever fought, because he fought them as well.
Wrapping her shoulders in the silk scarf, she headed into the dispersing crowd, cautiously scanning the masses for signs of her guardian angel to no avail. *He might have left a glass slipper,* she mused silently. Then she caught herself, *No, Syd, what are you saying? Are you saying the Vaughn is some sort of secret agent Prince Charming? Fairy tales have no place in the life of a spy.*
Still, she couldn't help but be disappointed for his disappearance.
As she rounded the corner to her SUV, she noticed something peculiar on the hood. Instinct told her to react cautiously. A bomb? Some kind of tracking device maybe? Yet as she got closer, the item came into clear view and caused her heart to pound. A rose… a single white rose wrapped with an iridescent ribbon, which held a small card. "Joy is born of life's tragedies. Beauty blossoms in the storm. V."
"Syd?"
She turned, and smiled widely thinking he had changed his mind and decided to deliver the bloom in person, but was shocked to find Will Tipin standing before her instead.
"Will!" She tried to place the flower out of sight. "What are you doing here?"
"I made it out to Cavannagh's anyway and after a few drinks, I noticed the time. Just right for seeing you home from the opera."
"I have my car, Will." His excuse was flimsy at best.
"Yeah, well," he shuffled his feet. "I guess I didn't think it through."
"Are you drunk?" she asked.
"Probably," he admitted.
"Get in. I'll take you home. You can pick your car up tomorrow.""
He walked towards her sheepishly, his hand reaching down to her side and picking the rose out of her grasp. "An admirer?"
She tried in vain to take it back before he read the card, but it was too late. "Who's V?"
"A friend," she said, stoically.
"I thought I knew all your friends," he muttered.
"Not this one. It's someone I work with," she said. "It's no big deal."
"This is the frame guy, isn't it?"
She again grasped for the rose and he tried to pull away from her, but not before losing his balance, too many beers taking their toll on his equilibrium. Sydney reached to steady him and caught him in her arms. Taking advantage of the closeness Will touched her face with his finger, stroking the contours of her cheek, her lips.
"You need someone to take care of you," he said. "You think you're so strong, but I see it. It's just a matter of time before you admit it, Syd. One of these days you're going to have to open up to someone."
He tried to kiss her and she pulled away, quickly righting him and pushing him gently to the passenger side of the car. "Get in," she ordered. "You need coffee."
The truth was, he was right. Only Will could never be that someone.
As she crossed back to the driver's door, she held the rose to her nose and inhaled its fragrant scent. Looking back to the now desolate Pavilion, she wondered where that someone had run off to. Did he have someone to go to? Someone who wanted him to open up to her just as Will asked of her? Had he replaced Alice with another girl oblivious to his real life?
She opened the car door and slid in. It would do no good to wonder about things she had no control over. Taking her drunken friend home was a task she could handle. One step at a time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Vaughn watched from a secluded corner of the parking lot as Sydney approached her car. Maybe he'd chance it. Maybe he'd get in and drive off somewhere with her where they could talk. Somewhere they could just be people. What were the odds that SD-6 had followed her to the opera? That they were watching her right this minute? This once, it couldn't hurt to be near her…
He had just taken a step out of his hiding place when he noticed a man walking toward her. His hand automatically slipped inside his jacket to retrieve his gun. A cautious moment later he realized that she knew this man. She was smiling and nodding. He watched as the stranger staggered. "Drunk," he said bitterly. Something inexplicable grabbed a hold of him and made his blood boil when the stranger grabbed the rose from her hand and read his words.
"Will Tipin," he whispered. Surely, it couldn't be anyone else. As he watched Will fall into her arms he had to stop himself from reacting. He wanted to help her. The gentleman in him would never have let her deal with a drunk on her own, but he knew it was not his place.
More unaccountable feelings surged within him as he watched him stroke her cheek and brush his finger over her lips. The exchange didn't last long however, as Sydney quickly ushered him to the passenger seat. "Good girl," he said with a wry smile.
Did she stop and smell his rose? Or was that his imagination? More importantly, where was she going with this drunkard Will?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
An hour later, Sydney quietly slipped into the apartment, hoping not to wake Francie. Will's misguided attempts at expanding their relationship had her preoccupied. She should never have kissed him those months ago. He harbored some kind of misdirected brotherly affection for her and had started to think of it as romantic love. Eventually, they would need to air this out.
She peeked in Francie's door as she made her way to her own room. Empty. So much for her tiptoeing. More than likely she was bunking with Charlie tonight. The instant she opened her door she sensed something was off. She bent and lit her bedside lamp, and quickly took in the radius of the room as she straightened. No, not right at all. To the naked eye it was exactly as she had left it, but she knew something was off. It was then that she saw the note on the mirror written in her own burgundy lipstick.
"You have something I want…and I have something you love. Pier 34. 5 a.m." It was signed simply with an imprint of a kiss.
"Anna."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Vaughn fumbled for the phone in the dark of his bedroom. "Hello?"
"It's me," Sydney said.
He sat straight up in the bed. "What is it? What's wrong? Did Will do something?"
"Will?" She shook off his question. "I need you. It's urgent. Meet me at our usual spot in 20 minutes."
"I'll be there." He was already dressing before the phone hit the receiver. Something was very wrong. Sydney would never break protocol unless it was an emergency. He on the other hand seemed to be breaking it for her in spades. Nick at Nite…La Traviata…white roses… What if his mistakes had caught up to her? He couldn't think about that now. Now, Sydney needed him. Feelings of guilt rose up in him as he realized whatever the urgency was; he was pleased because it meant he would be with her.
When he arrived at the warehouse she was already waiting and pacing. "Sydney, what's going on?"
"Anna has Francie," she blurted.
"Francie? Your roommate, Francie? How? Are you sure?"
"She left her calling card scrawled in red lipstick on my mirror. She says I have something she wants and Francie is her bargaining chip."
"What do you have?" Vaughn ran his hand through his sleep tussled hair.
"I have no idea, but I'm almost confident that it has nothing to do with Rimbaldi. This is something personal. I can feel it."
"What are her terms?" he asked, then quickly added, "I should call Devlin."
"No!" she rushed toward him. "Vaughn, this isn't some CIA operation. This is Francie! I'm not going to let the agency run this one. If you can't accept that, I understand. But if you want to help me…I need you Vaughn. Michael, I need you." Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Vaughn grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her in close. "Sydney, she's ok. Francie's ok." Oh god, his heart was breaking. How much could one woman possibly endure? Her fiancé, her father's deceptions, her mother's treachery and now her best friend. He pulled a bit harder until she collapsed against his chest. "I won't call Devlin. We'll do this together."
She looked up at him; her eyes swimming in oceans of unshed tears. "We have to Vaughn. We have to."
His fingers grasped her chin and held it fast to keep her eyes trained on his as he spoke. "I won't let anything happen to her, Sydney. I promise you."
3:00 a.m. Sydney's Apartment
Vaughn and Sydney were searching through her personnel things for any sign of something that might be of interest to Anna.
"Think," Sydney demanded. "Anna…K-Directorate…KGB…it must be something to do with my mother, but what?"
Vaughn sifted through a memory box filled with pictures, letters and clippings. Buried at the bottom was the frame he had given her for Christmas, it held a picture of a little girl and a beautiful woman who resembled Sydney. "Is this you, with your mom?" he asked.
She turned away from the dresser drawer she was pillaging to look. Her face was crestfallen. "Yes. Vaughn, it's not the frame…I just, I needed some time before I could replace the photograph…"
"You don't have to explain anything to me." He held the picture up to the dim light. "I like the pig tails," he joked, trying hard to break the very thick layer of ice.
Sydney walked toward him and gently took the frame from his hand, looking at her own image. "I used to raid her jewelry box for barrettes, hair clips, beads, you name it."
She quickly dropped the photo on the bed and ran to the closet, standing on a few discarded boxes to reach the top shelf. "Help me with this," she ordered.
Vaughn was at her side in a moment, taking the very large ornate box from her hands. "Put it over there," she said, as she pointed toward the bed.
They both stood over the box for a moment, as if admiring the craftsmanship. "I remember the day it came, though I couldn't have been more than four. Dad had it shipped by special courier while he was off on one of his many trips. Next to her books, it was the thing she treasured most in this world. The few jewels she owned meant less than the box that held them. I never understood why. I should have remembered this long ago."
Vaughn placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, an offering of comfort he couldn't verbalize. "You think this is what Anna's after?"
"Maybe… or maybe there's something hidden inside." Sydney opened the box quickly and dumped the contents onto the bed as if it were garbage. Each small compartment and drawer she pulled out and discarded among the pile of rings and bracelets. When it seemed like there was nothing left… no sign of a secret compartment or latch she caught sight of herself in the small vanity mirror. For a split second it was her mother's image she saw reflected there.
Then in her minds eye she remembered a day from her childhood. She is looking at herself in the same mirror, clearly sneaking a look at the jewelry while her mother is out of the room. Her fingers are touching her reflection, dazzled by the sparkling earrings she has placed on her petite ears.
"Sydney Bristow, didn't I tell you never to go into Mommy's treasure box unless she is with you?"
Sydney jumps in the memory and in the present time. Her hands fly to the mirror and she turns it slightly. The mirror acts as a latch, which opens the lid to reveal a thin compartment. Inside is a sealed envelope with Cyrillic script inked across it.
Sydney and Vaughn read it aloud together. "Espinosa Bristow Confidential Records, September 17, 1974."
To be continued……
See… I told you it wouldn't be ALL romantic angst. But take heart shippers, more Syd/Vaughn warm and fuzzies coming up.
