Disclaimer: Sydney and Vaughn are properties of J.J. Abrams. Brian, the annoying Store Manager, is mine.
Summary: This story is based on the premise that Sydney and Vaughn have never met, but since they are soulmates, you know they had to meet eventually.
They still are who they are. She's a double agent and he's a junior officer at the CIA. Their jobs don't really figure into the story, but all that has happened to them (except for the facts about Sydney's mother and Vaughn's father, which neither of them would know about, obviously) has still happened. Danny is dead and Vaughn is no longer with Alice.
Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed my previous fanfics. It's so cool when someone else likes something you've written and I really appreciate it.
Sydney's POV
How long were you supposed to mourn? I knew there were no hard and fast rules. Everyone reacts differently to the loss of a loved one. The first few days after Danny's death, I wanted to die, too. I wanted not to feel sorrow or pain or sadness or grief or…anything. I couldn't stand the fact that I would never again be able to run my fingers through his hair or feel his skin beneath my fingertips or hear him whisper my name in his sexy British accent.
I loved him and he was taken from me…violently and I mourned his loss with every breath of my being.
But now I'm beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's taken me a long time, but I've come to the realization that I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I know Danny wouldn't want that for me and I don't, either. The celibacy issue aside (which was definitely not an option), I want to get married and have children. I want to have someone to come home to at night. Someone who will comfort me when I'm depressed. Someone who will make me laugh until my sides hurt. Someone who will make love to me with passionate abandon.
But in order to have all that, I need a man. And the thought of dating again scares me. I know, it sounds crazy. Kick-ass Sydney Bristow afraid of going out to dinner or seeing a movie with a member of the opposite sex? Then I think about the last time I went out on a date. Danny and I had been together for three years and including the months since he'd died, that made it almost four. The realization made me shudder. That was a long time to be out of the dating scene.
The basics were obviously the same. You meet someone, he asks you out and you go on a date. But were the rules different now? If a guy pays for your dinner, does he expect you to sleep with him at the end of the evening? If I ask a guy out, will he think I'm an easy lay?
I suppose I could ask Francie all these questions and I know she'd totally understand, but it might feel kind of awkward. I don't want her to think I want to go out trolling for guys. That's not my style. It's not as if I'm desperate or anything.
That's partly the reason why I haven't told her about what happened to me a few days ago. If I told her I was even thinking about dating again, she'd have ten guys lined up for me within an hour. I didn't want that. I wanted to do this at my own pace. And if I didn't tell anyone, then no one would ever know if I chickened out of doing something.
But actually, I didn't. Chicken out, that is. An opportunity (is that what I should call him?) presented itself the other day and I didn't shy away from it. Maybe I even welcomed it.
See, I'd sort of met a guy. Well, sort of sounds a bit wishy-washy. Okay, I did meet a guy. In the supermarket, of all places. How cliché was that! I tried to remember where I'd read it that supermarkets were a prime pick-up spot for single people (or was that an old Happy Days episode I'd seen on Nick at Nite?). In any case, it had happened to me.
We were out of everything at home and I found myself with an hour of free time after a workout. So I hopped in my car and headed for the grocery store near the house. After selecting a cart with wheels that didn't squeak too much (it was near impossible to find one that didn't squeak at all), I went inside and headed for the produce aisle.
I didn't notice him at first. I circled by the vegetables. Picked out a head of lettuce, a bag of potatoes, a squash. I even filled a bag of (Ugh!) Brussels sprouts, which were Francie's favorite. Go figure.
I thought I saw him glance at me for the first time across the fruit stand. You know how sometimes you can just tell when someone's looking at you? That's how I felt. I pretended to be absorbed by the selection of green bananas when I suddenly cut my eyes upwards to catch him in the act. The first thing that hit me was how extraordinarily good-looking he was. The second thing that hit me was that I'd actually noticed how extraordinarily good-looking he was. I hadn't had this sort of response to a guy since Danny.
He gave me an embarrassed grin and looked away when I caught his gaze. That was enough to intrigue me. Very casually, I turned my cart into the same aisle he was in.
He was in front of the oranges now. His back was to me, but he had to have known I was there. I surreptitiously (hey, I wasn't a spy for nothing!) watched as he squeezed each orange, as if he could tell by touch whether it would be sweet or sour. That was a far cry from my usual practice of throwing them haphazardly into the plastic bag it took a rocket scientist to open.
Now ordinarily, I would have waited until he was finished selecting his oranges before getting my own, but I was feeling bold. I sauntered up behind him and pretended like I knew what I was doing by feeling up each orange. He moved slightly to give me more room, but he didn't turn around to acknowledge my presence.
I frowned at his back and so I wasn't paying attention to where my hand was reaching. All of a sudden, I felt the combination of a warm thumb and a smooth-skinned orange under my fingers. A pleasant warming sensation coursed through my body at the moment we touched. I turned my head and saw that we had both grabbed the same piece of fruit.
He turned and I looked sideways at him. Our eyes met. He gave me a shy, embarrassed smile.
"Sorry." He said in a pleasant-sounding voice as he withdrew his hand.
"M-my fault." I stammered out, surprised that I suddenly felt all tongue-tied. "Did you want it?" I held out the fruit to him.
I could tell he found it amusing that I would offer to give up the orange for him. I could feel my face turning red, thinking it was a pretty ridiculous thing to do. Like there weren't already ten million other oranges there that he could choose from?
"That's okay." He held up a hand. Why did I just zero in on the fact that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring? "I'm not going to fight you over a piece of fruit." He said with a chuckle. He had a nice smile. The kind that reached his eyes, which were a deep green. I'd always been a sucker for green eyes.
"Well, that's a wise decision on your part." I said without a hint of a stutter. "Because I think I could take you." I said matter-of-factly.
He raised a questioning eyebrow. For some reason, I'd always envied people who could raise one eyebrow. Probably because I couldn't do it. "You think so?"
"Oh, I know so." I said with a confident air. My kick-ass side said, "You go, girl!" while the girly-girl inside me groaned. Is that your idea of flirtatious banter, Syd? You imply the guy's a wimp? He doesn't know you. He doesn't know you really could knock his teeth into the roof of his mouth with one swift kick to the jaw.
Fortunately, he seemed more amused than offended. "Then I definitely won't get involved in any food-related scuffles with you." He smiled again and then went on his way.
God, I am so out of practice! I lamented. Was it like riding a bike? Would it all come back to me? Would I remember how to capture a guy's attention and hold it?Preoccupied with my thoughts, I went on automatic pilot down each aisle of the store, grabbing things off the shelves and putting them in my cart without really looking at them. I'm a person who knows what she likes and I don't stray too far from the beaten path.
I was turning into the paper products aisle when my shopping cart decided it wouldn't turn its wheels for me anymore. A loud scraping sound created a ruckus and caused everyone to look at the person making all the noise. Well, when I say "everyone," I actually meant one person. Namely, the person who'd been occupying my head for the last twenty minutes.
We both smiled at each other as we passed. He stopped to survey the selection of paper towels. I took the time to check out his shopping cart. You'd be surprised what you could learn about a person by finding out what he eats.
Bran flakes, skim milk, Balance bars. Well, judging by the hard, lean body I couldn't help but notice, I guess it was a testament to eating healthy.
"Excuse me, would you mind moving your cart so that I can get to the window cleaner?" His voice interrupted my musings.
"Oh, sure," I looked down and pulled my cart out of the way. It was at that moment that I saw the box of Cocoa Puffs and the bottle of Hawaiian Punch in my basket. My two secret vices that I loved as a kid and never outgrew. Since he was standing right next to my cart, he had to have seen them. I cringed inwardly, wondering what Mr. You-Are-What-You-Eat was thinking about my culinary selections. I thought of two possibilities and both were horrible. Either he thought I had kids (which would make him believe I was unavailable) or that I had the eating habits of a seven-year-old.
"Hey, a secret decoder ring!"
I realized he was speaking to me. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Your prize. In the Cocoa Puffs." He gestured. "It's a secret decoder ring."
Oh, God, he had noticed. "Oh, yeah." I said embarrassedly.
"I didn't think they still gave those away." He commented. "It'll come in handy, you know."
"How?" I asked, perplexed.
"Well, if you ever want to become a spy…" He grinned, grabbed his window cleaner and then walked away, leaving me speechless.
I stood there, frozen to the spot. Did I have the words "I am a spy!" emblazoned on my forehead? Did I give off a strange "secret agent" vibe? Was it pheromones? How did he know?
Oh, get a grip, Syd! The rational side of my brain said chastisingly. There's no way he could know! He was just making a joke and you suddenly turn into a paranoid freak.
I took a moment to get my bearings. There was only one thing that could calm me down. I headed for the Frozen Foods.
I seriously needed an ice cream fix and I thought it would be a safe haven. I certainly didn't expect Mr. Health Nut to be anywhere in the vicinity, but lo and behold, he was there in front of the freezer containing all the lovely cartons of ice cream.
I watched as he opened the freezer door, the cold air wafting out, and pulled out a carton of Haagen-Dazs Butter Pecan. Hmmm, so maybe he wasn't so perfect, after all, if he was scarfing down bran flakes in the morning and pigging out on Butter Pecan at night. Then again, maybe that what was made him perfect. If he'd chosen the frozen yogurt or the reduced-fat version, I probably would have written him off. I believed that everyone had to have at least one secret indulgence, otherwise what was the point of living? Getting the fat-loaded variety told me that while he was a man who took (great!) care of his body, he was easygoing enough that didn't obsess about every little fat gram.
He didn't see me as I was behind him in the aisle and he left before I reached the freezer. As he walked away, I observed the clothes he was wearing, wondering if they would give me a clue as to what he did for a living. He was dressed in trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, the cuffs rolled up to his forearm. No tie, but he must have removed it as the top button on his shirt was open. Lawyer, stockbroker, businessman? Unfortunately, he could be almost anything in that outfit.
That got me to thinking about what I would say to somebody—say, a potential date—when I was asked the question of what I did for a living. I could say I was a graduate student and I worked for a bank. But I could never tell what my real job was. I had learned my lesson the hard way and I would never put another's person life in danger just because I couldn't take the stress of lying any longer.
But if I always had to lie, then how could I ever form a lasting relationship with someone? I believed in total honesty and it had gotten Danny killed. Did that mean I couldn't be with anyone until SD-6 was brought down? That thought utterly depressed me. It could take several years, decades even, or maybe it wouldn't be taken down at all during my lifetime. I didn't want to be alone for the rest of my life!
CRASH! The grinding of metal against metal jolted me out of my despair. I looked up and my mouth dropped. I had crashed my cart into someone else's.
"You do realize we have to stop meeting like this." My Mystery Man said to me in an amused tone.
"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!" I was mortified. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going…" My voice trailed off as I felt my face turning beet red.
"Oh, that's too bad. I was kind of hoping you were."
"Were what?" I said stupidly.
"Paying attention to where you were going." He gave me that shy, endearing smile again and I felt my heart start to pound in my chest.
"You think I did this on purpose?" Oh, please, don't let him be full of himself!
"No!" He said quickly and I sensed that he was just as uncomfortable as I was with the whole business of flirting and acting coy.
Wait a minute…he was flirting, I was sure of that. The kicker of it all was that it was with me! That had to mean something, my frazzled brain nudged me. It meant he found me attractive. That stunning revelation was enough to make me weep.
I wasn't going to be Sydney Bristow, Francie's never-married friend. I could choose to be alone (and that might be an option if Sloane had any say in the matter), but I didn't have to be. I was still a person someone could like and maybe eventually love and that gave me hope. I would bring SD-6 down because I didn't want them to control one of the most important aspects in any person's life. Namely, the ability to love and be loved with complete trust, honesty and abandon.
Amazing the revelations one could have in the canned goods aisle of the supermarket. If anyone were to read my mind at that moment, they probably would have thought I was certifiable. I had just caused a minor sensation at the local grocery and here I was thinking about love and marriage and bringing down the most evil of forces.
"I didn't mean to imply that you were following me--" He was saying.
"I wasn't." I cut in sharply, focusing in on him again.
He did the eyebrow-raising thing again. "Will you at least admit that we have run into each other—literally and figuratively--" He grinned at that point and I could feel myself softening. "—more than is normal for a half-hour time span?"
I pretended to contemplate his question. "Well, okay, maybe three times is a bit excessive." I conceded. "But it wasn't because I was following you!" I added, a tad vehemently.
"Your point is duly noted." He said with mock seriousness.
"Is everyone okay?" A tall, skinny kid with brown hair, wearing black slacks and a white shirt with a name tag that read "Hi, I'm Brian, Assistant Store Manager" came rushing down the aisle, a worried look on his face. I threw him an odd look. It wasn't as if we were driving cars and had a head-on collision in the middle of an intersection. Shopping carts were made to be indestructible (except for the wheels, that is).
"We're both fine." My victim replied. "It was simply a matter of not looking where we were going."
"And no one's hurt?" Brian persisted.
I rolled my eyes. "Do you want to take down our names and license numbers for insurance purposes?" I said under my breath.
My offhanded comment elicited a grin from my cohort in crime and he looked at me. "You know, that might not be such a bad idea."
"What?" Brian (who hadn't heard me) sounded confused.
"That's a sneaky way of finding out my name." I remarked.
"Huh?" Brian wrinkled his forehead.
"Hey, it was your idea." He pointed out.
"What are you guys talking about?" Brian whined. He needed to go, I decided.
"Look, Brian," I grabbed his elbow and started moving him along. "Everyone's fine, no one was hurt and we're not going to sue your store, okay?" I gave him a little push. "You can go now."
Brian looked at me as if I were nuts, but he did as he was told.
"So where were we?" I turned back to find myself staring into a green-eyed gaze.
"You were just about to tell me your name." He reminded me.
"Oh, right." I nodded. "It's Sydney. Sydney Bristow."
"Nice to meet you, Sydney." He smiled. "My name is Michael Vaughn."
Michael Vaughn…I tried the name out in my head. I liked the way it sounded. "So do you live around here?" I asked.
"Actually, I just moved into a new place not too far from here about two weeks ago." He told me. "How about you?"
"I'm pretty close, but I've only been living in the area for a few months myself." I replied.
"Excuse me?" Oh, God, it was Brian again! I glared at him and noticed that for some strange reason, he was holding a bouquet of gorgeous pink and red tulips. Don't even tell me that he was going to give me those as a "token of appreciation" from the store! What was with this place? Were they that afraid of lawsuits?
"Your flowers fell out of the basket when she hit you and you crushed them when the cart ran over them." Brian wasn't talking to me, but to Michael. For the first time, I noticed the trampled bouquet lying on the floor, the cellophane surrounding the blooms dirty and wrinkled and the colorful flowers broken and beheaded.
Brian and Michael were talking in low tones, but the only thing I could focus on was the fact that Michael had had a bouquet of flowers in his basket. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure this one out. He was buying flowers to give to someone, more than likely a female. I cursed my rotten luck. Why was it that the first attractive man I had met in months was already taken?
"Sydney?" Michael said my name and I looked at him. Brian had disappeared.
"I'm sorry about your flowers." I said in a subdued tone. "Would you let me pay for them?"
He looked taken aback by my words and more than a little confused at my sudden attitude change. "No, I—that's not necessary." He stumbled over his words. "Brian is letting me have them free of charge."
"Oh," I said shortly. "Well, again, I apologize for running into you. I guess I just have a lot on my mind."
Michael opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to change his mind as he abruptly closed it. "That happens." He mumbled.
"It was nice to meet you." I said politely and bid a hasty retreat.
I hid out in the back of the store, near the dairy section. I didn't want to run into Michael again and I probably spent a good ten minutes pretending to choose my yogurt flavors.
It was probably for the best. If there was a Significant Other in his life but he was flirting with me, what did that say about him? I certainly didn't want a two-timing cheat in my life. I had enough troubles as it was.
I made my way up to the check-out lanes. Luckily, Michael was nowhere to be seen. I hurriedly ducked into a line and began to unload my cart.
The check-out girl was fast and the bagger quickly had my purchases in brown paper bags. I began to push my loaded cart towards the exit, passing Brian at his little Store Manager cubicle along the way.
"Hey, wait a minute!" I heard someone call. I stopped momentarily and then kept going. The voice was thin and reedy, so I knew it wasn't Michael.
"Miss, Miss!" I heard footsteps behind me as I walked through the automatic sliding doors and turned around. It was Brian. He was holding a bouquet of pink and red tulips. "These are for you." He said, out of breath.
"I didn't buy those." I told him.
"I know that." Brian refrained from rolling his eyes, but I could tell he wanted to. "That guy wanted me to give them to you."
"What guy?" I said suspiciously.
He gave a big sigh. "That guy you plowed into with your cart?" Brian said, very undiplomatically
I stared at him. "He told you these were for me?" I was dumbfounded.
Like duh! Brian's eyes were saying to me. "So do you want them?" He was holding the bouquet out to me.
"Yes!" I grabbed the flowers out of his hand. Even though they weren't florist-quality flowers, the tulips were still full and beautiful with a lovely waxy sheen. Michael had made a lucky guess in his choice of flower as he couldn't have known that tulips were my favorite.
"He also left a card." Brian pulled the small envelope out of his pocket. He smirked as I snatched it from him. I scowled ferociously at him and he went back into the store.
I turned away from the store (just in case Brian was watching to see my reaction) and ripped open the envelope.
I saw these in the store and somehow
I knew you had to have them. Please
enjoy them with my compliments.
Hope to see you again very soon,
Michael
And he had double-underlined very. I looked at the gorgeous flowers and then the card and then the flowers again.
And then I smiled.
THE END (actually, there's more)
Read on for Vaughn's POV…