A/N: Yes, it's mushy. That's my specialty. (
**********
Sydney's footsteps sounded loud in the empty warehouse. My heart rate jumped. As soon as she came in, I noticed a new little bruise on her face which she hadn't covered up yet. As always, I fought down my anger at the thought that anyone could hurt her.
I saw her eyes take in the objects sitting beside the crate I was on. Of course she would notice them, with her training, but she didn't ask. We went through the business stuff first, though my mind wasn't on it. That aside, she gestured to the CD player again, curiosity written on her face.
"What's that stuff?" she asked.
"You'll see." I pulled two candles out of the bag and set them on the crate beside me, then proceeded to light them. A silly little gesture, I know. Two tiny flames didn't do much in a big, dim warehouse. But they changed the atmosphere somehow. "Damn!" I muttered as the flame got too close to my fingers and I shook the match out quickly. Her gaze was burning the back of my neck and I turned to face her again.
"Syd…" I began. I couldn't find the words. How could I let her know how I felt without just complicating things more? Her eyes never left my face. "I just… You probably already know this but, well, I wanted to make sure you did…"
A soft chuckle escaped her.
"What?" I asked.
"The stoic Vaughn, always cool under pressure," she grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen you this inarticulate."
I chuckled too. She'd managed to put me a little more at ease, one of the many reasons I felt this way about her.
"This isn't easy for me, okay?" I defended myself. "Just listen to the song, would you? It says this better than I can." I pushed play and stepped towards the crate where she was perched, my hand extended. "May I?"
She took my hand as she stood up, then placed her arms lightly around my neck. We began to sway gently to the soft music playing, as Elvis Costello's voice filled the room.
She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell
Syd definitely wasn't what she might seem to so many people - the people who thought she had a boring job at the bank, or the people who she beat up. I smiled at that thought. She was so much more.
She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
Beckons indeed from shadows of the past
That I'll remember 'til the day I die
She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she
After a few seconds, we pulled apart just enough so that we could look at each other. As she stood there in front of me in her jeans and t- shirt, emotion in her beautiful eyes, I had never seen her look so sexy. None of the times she had worn skimpy dresses for missions could compare to that moment. And suddenly, the right words came easily.
"Syd, I love you."
She responded gently, "That's all you had to say."
**********
Sydney's footsteps sounded loud in the empty warehouse. My heart rate jumped. As soon as she came in, I noticed a new little bruise on her face which she hadn't covered up yet. As always, I fought down my anger at the thought that anyone could hurt her.
I saw her eyes take in the objects sitting beside the crate I was on. Of course she would notice them, with her training, but she didn't ask. We went through the business stuff first, though my mind wasn't on it. That aside, she gestured to the CD player again, curiosity written on her face.
"What's that stuff?" she asked.
"You'll see." I pulled two candles out of the bag and set them on the crate beside me, then proceeded to light them. A silly little gesture, I know. Two tiny flames didn't do much in a big, dim warehouse. But they changed the atmosphere somehow. "Damn!" I muttered as the flame got too close to my fingers and I shook the match out quickly. Her gaze was burning the back of my neck and I turned to face her again.
"Syd…" I began. I couldn't find the words. How could I let her know how I felt without just complicating things more? Her eyes never left my face. "I just… You probably already know this but, well, I wanted to make sure you did…"
A soft chuckle escaped her.
"What?" I asked.
"The stoic Vaughn, always cool under pressure," she grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen you this inarticulate."
I chuckled too. She'd managed to put me a little more at ease, one of the many reasons I felt this way about her.
"This isn't easy for me, okay?" I defended myself. "Just listen to the song, would you? It says this better than I can." I pushed play and stepped towards the crate where she was perched, my hand extended. "May I?"
She took my hand as she stood up, then placed her arms lightly around my neck. We began to sway gently to the soft music playing, as Elvis Costello's voice filled the room.
She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell
Syd definitely wasn't what she might seem to so many people - the people who thought she had a boring job at the bank, or the people who she beat up. I smiled at that thought. She was so much more.
She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
Beckons indeed from shadows of the past
That I'll remember 'til the day I die
She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she
After a few seconds, we pulled apart just enough so that we could look at each other. As she stood there in front of me in her jeans and t- shirt, emotion in her beautiful eyes, I had never seen her look so sexy. None of the times she had worn skimpy dresses for missions could compare to that moment. And suddenly, the right words came easily.
"Syd, I love you."
She responded gently, "That's all you had to say."