Disclaimer: Don't own anything...not even my car (it's a lease). So yeah, I'm just writing for fun...all characters belong to ABC/JJ/Bad Robot/not me.

Note: We'll get to that warehouse scene with Syd and Vaughn, but first a little Will POV (since I just love writing in his POV). I upped the rating to 'R' since there's bad language and references to things of a sexual nature.

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I can't believe I'm fucking lost.

Will Tippin slams his left palm into the steering wheel out of anger and frustration. In reaction, the car jerks to the left, crossing the oncoming lane (which is thankfully empty) and jumping the curb.

"Shit!" he exclaims, his SUV swerving to graze a metal newspaper box with a grating screech and a hail of bright sparks. His head whips around to see the newspaper box sway, but steady, and his foot slams on the brake. His head snaps forward (Did I just give myself whiplash?) and he swears again, this time under his breath.

Oh, that great, just wonderful! Tops off the perfect morning, doesn't it? I get up at the asscrack of dawn (seven, for Christ's sake!), get shot down by Sydney, but not before getting into a nice little fight with her and probably ruining our friendship, not to mention any chance of romance. Yeah. Oh and let's not forget the mystery phone call I happen to overhear...(who the fuck is that tool "Vaughn")...and now I've lost sight of her car. Great. Try to be all investigative-reporter-like by tailing her, and get nothing but lost in the industrial section of L.A. and (I'm sure) a huge scrape alongside my Jeep. I could've had a much better day if I had just stayed in Jenny's bed this morning. At least I might have gotten some head.

"But no, I'm stuck here, maybe with whiplash," he says to himself, shifting into park. "Completely disoriented in the middle of what looks like the largest, most confusing warehouse community in all of California."

He licks his parched lips and reclines in the driver seat. "Oh yeah, life is fucking grrrreat." He wants to laugh because he just totally sounded like a really drunk Sean Connery doing an American accent. "Fucking grrrrreat," he repeats, chuckling. No wonder the chicks dig me, he thinks caustically.

He thought she would never notice he was following her. He took extreme care to maintain a few cars behind her (that was the proper procedure, wasn't it?) when suddenly, her car accelerated, made a sharp right and disappeared, leaving no sign except a black pair of tire skid marks. And that was ten minutes ago. He had followed his instincts, turning from one identical warehouse-cluttered street to another, hoping he'd catch a glimpse of her car. But no, I'm stuck here...and yeah, *definitely* with whiplash.

So what to do now? Will bites his lip and adjusts his glasses over his crystal-blue eyes. He could keep searching for her, but knows that's probably a total waste of time. He could go back home and admit defeat, except he doesn't know which way home is. Or he could just sit here and rot away...with a pulled muscle in his neck and a gargantuan gouge down the left side of his vehicle. Hell, what a dazzling array of tempting choices we've got here, William.

Damn it. He swears he saw her eyeing him in her rearview mirror, but that couldn't be, could it? Normal people don't ever worry about being tailed, do they? I know I don't...sorry, *didn't*... that whole Eloise Kurtz/surveillance bug thing has certainly changed things a bit.

He decides to head home, shifting the car into drive and easing back into the empty street. He reaches an intersection, which (surprise) has a warehouse on each corner. He looks down the intersecting street, hoping for a clue, a way out of this industrial maze. Hmmm....which way to go? Follow your male driving instincts. Yeah, but look at where that's gotten you so far...lost...with whiplash. He makes a right, feeling a good vibe coming from that direction. He tries to bolster his confidence with a god-awful Sean Connery-as-James-Bond impression: "Fucking grrrrrrreat, Will Tippin. Your spy skills are almost as good as mine. You even have those amazing built-in GPS skills that I've only dreamed about."

To be a spy like James Bond would be the life, wouldn't it? Adventure, travel, intrigue...hot chicks. And if I wreck my car, I get a new one...and not a Cherokee...but rather a nice flashy Astin Martin Vanquish. He grins, making another right.

Two minutes pass and he can tell he's getting close to an exit somewhere.

Or not. There's a yellow sign ahead. Dead End.

Nice. Funny how one stupid sign came seemingly describe my whole life.

A U-turn and five left turns later (the right turns obviously weren't getting him anywhere), his car starts sputtering, then slows to a stop. He presses the accelerator. Nothing.

That would be because I'm out of gas.

There are just not enough swear words.

"What's the only thing worse than driving around, lost, in a maze of warehouses?" Will says to himself, opening the car door and reluctantly easing out the driver seat. "Walking around, lost, in a maze of warehouses."

With keys in hand, (don't want to make this day even worse by locking my keys in my car that's out of gas) he slams the door shut. A few more swear words pass through his lips while he locks the door.

And sighing, he starts walking. Straight. No more turns.

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Ten minutes and five fantasies about torching his car later, Will sees her car. At first he thinks it's a mirage. After all, looking at all of these fucking identical buildings could easily do that to someone. But as he gets closer, he sees the license plate. It definitely belongs to Sydney. His heart speeds up as he thinks about tracking her down and finally getting to the bottom of this whole "Vaughn the tool" mystery. First of all, why the hell would she be meeting him in a warehouse? Did he work there? Did he run some kind of illegal operation...and the warehouse was his whole cover? Was Sydney buying drugs? Was Sydney selling drugs? The questions didn't ebb as he walks to the building's side entrance. He places a hand on the metal door handle, not knowing if he should do this. He had already betrayed her by reading her journal and following her today. What's one more infraction?

He exhales slowly and turns the handle, opening the door.

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Note: That's it for this chapter. Let me know what you think....:)