Author's Note: You'd given up hope of ever seeing this, right? Frankly, I almost had, too! I had a lot of trouble with it, so I hope it's at least partially worth the looooooooong wait.


Warehouse, City of Industry

Thank God Francie hadn't been home when Vaughn called, Sydney thought. She didn't know if she would have been able to delay her rush out the door long enough to avoid suspicion. Just hearing his low tones saying those two words she'd heard him say countless time before had sent a shiver all the way down to her toes, bringing immediately to mind the sound of his voice as he'd murmured into her ear or gasped out her name. She had barely even remembered to grab her keys. All she could think about was seeing him again.

But now she sat in her car outside the warehouse, her stomach as full of butterflies as it had been on her first mission with SD-6, when Dixon had teased her that he could hear her heart all the way across the room without the microphone. She wished that she had stopped to touch up her makeup or change into something a little less casual than her red tank top and well-worn khakis.

She took a deep breath and got out of the car. As she reached out to open the warehouse door, she realized that her hand was shaking slightly. Dammit.

He was pacing when she turned the corner, but he stopped immediately at seeing her. God, he's beautiful, she thought, her breath catching in her throat. The sight of him in a blue Oxford and his shoulder holster had always caused her heart to race a little, but today it was more like a stampede.

"Hi."

"Hi."

For a moment, they simply stared at one another, smiling slightly and a little awkwardly. What do I do now? she wondered, feeling slightly panicked. Hug him, kiss him, thank him, stay three arm's lengths away from him?

His smile widened a bit, causing his dimples to appear, and her stomach fluttered for a different reason. Was it possible that he had somehow become even more gorgeous in the past three days?

"I've missed you," he said softly.

"Me too."

"You look pretty today."

She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks. "I look awful." She couldn't stop the giggle that rose in her throat, and she wondered when she had become sixteen again. It wasn't as if no one ever complimented her, but he had a way of making the words mean so much more.

"You could never look awful."

All the breath seemed to be sucked from her lungs at the expression in his eyes. She couldn't remember anyone ever looking at her with such naked adoration, not even Danny. It was almost overwhelming. How could she possibly inspire that look in someone's eyes? She had to drop her gaze before her knees gave way.

Her gaze fell on the device on the table. "Is that a signal disrupter?"

"Uh, yeah. Weiss suggested I bring it, in case we needed to talk about ... things."

"You told Weiss about us?" Her eyes shot back to him.

"No, of course not! He was just -- he thought that Haladki might be bugging our meets to get ammunition against me. He thought we should be careful."

"Oh." Her mind whirled. The thought of someone listening to them made her instantly queasy. This was their place, their haven. They weren't supposed to have to worry about things like that here. They were supposed to be safe here, safe from Sloane and SD-6 and certainly the CIA. They needed this place.

He continued, his words tumbling over each other. "But what Weiss said, about being careful, made me think -- Sydney, we weren't. We *really* weren't."

She eyed him in confusion, not sure what he was talking about. "What?"

"*Careful*."

She realized then what he meant. Her eyes widened. Inexplicably, disappointment and anger surged within her. "And now you're terrified that I might be pregnant! God, Vaughn, is that like the first thing you could think about?"

He flinched at her tone. She saw the hurt darken his eyes and was immediately sorry for her words. "Do you think I would --? Sydney, I was worried about *you*. About Sloane. We *have* to be worried about that. The consequences...."

Her eyes softened. She didn't understand the pain that had stabbed at her, but it was gone now. She knew him better than that. "I'm sorry, Vaughn. I know. But it's OK. I'm on the Pill. I took one that morning, and then when I got back to the hotel. I know it would be a disaster."

"A disaster," he echoed, his voice tinged with bleakness. "It should be --" He broke off with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head and glancing upward.

They stood in silence for a few moments.

"Are you sorry it happened, then?" she finally asked softly, not realizing until she'd voiced the question just how worried she had been about his answer.

"No! Never." His eyes flew to hers. "Are you?"

She shook her head. "Not for a second. Vaughn, it was ... perfect."

"For me, too. Sydney ... you know I've wanted you for a long time, right?"

She blushed a little. "I thought, probably, maybe. You knew ... I wanted you too, didn't you?"

He shook his head a bit ruefully. "No. You've clearly got a better spy-face than I do." He smiled, but then almost instantly grew serious again. "I knew you cared, but I didn't think you really felt that way about me. I thought it was just me."

Her heart twinged at the echo of pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I tried so hard to hide it. And I think I was afraid to really admit it, even to myself, because it was so terrifying. I knew that I couldn't bear to lose you. But I figured you saw through me. You always seem to for everything else." She reached up to caress his cheek, smoother than the last time she had touched it.

He breathed her name, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, they glittered at her, calling to her, and her body answered instantly. She leaned up to seal her lips to his, the warmth that she had remembered for the past few days spreading throughout her. His lips were even sweeter than she had remembered. This time, they tasted of coffee instead of wine, but the effect was just as intoxicating. The warmth flared to heat as the kiss deepened, tenderness quickly turning to passion, before she leaned back slightly. "I want you, Michael Vaughn," she said plainly, in case he still had any lingering doubts, and pulled him closer to her with the leather of his shoulder holster. His gun pressed against her side, and instead of being uncomfortable, it excited her even more.

Sensations new and remembered flooded through her, a cacophony of emotion and desire. She could never get enough of this, of him. The dam had burst, and there was no more holding it back.

He hoisted her to sit on one of the crates, and she wrapped her legs around him, reaching for his belt with eager hands. Her need for him almost shocked her with its immediacy and intensity. He slid one of her tank straps down her arm as he kissed his way along her neck and shoulder, then grabbed her hips, pulling her firmly against him as he recaptured her mouth. She moaned deep in her throat and moved against him, hands working to free his belt, yearning to feel him inside of her again, already ready for him....

Suddenly, a loud crash reverberated in the warehouse. They broke apart instantly, hearts racing even more than before. Vaughn's hand automatically went for his gun, and Sydney flew to her feet.

A large yellow cat streaked across the floor, its tail full and bristled. A small crate lay broken open, empty, on the floor near where it had appeared.

"Dammit," Vaughn gasped. "It was just a cat."

They looked at each other, the sick knowledge written clearly in their eyes. What if it hadn't been just a cat?

Silently, he refastened his belt, and she slid the strap of her tank top back onto her shoulder.

"Dammit," he said again, this time softer, sadder.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment against the tears that threatened to fall. "Nothing's changed, has it?"

He reached for her hand, their fingers entwining. "Well, now we both know. I don't have to wonder if you feel the same way anymore." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

"What are we going to do?" She felt as if she had been punched in the gut. Although no 250-pound henchman had ever packed such a wallop.

"Keep on wanting each other, I guess." His attempt at flippancy hung heavily in the air.

It will get easier, she thought. It has to, doesn't it? Surely my body won't ache with want every time I see him. Surely I won't feel the shadow of his hands on me every night when I go to sleep. Surely I won't feel lonely every morning when I wake up without him.

Looking up at him, though, she doubted all those possibilities. How could being without him ever be easier now?

They stood silently, hands joined. "What's my counter-mission?" she finally asked, her voice faltering only slightly.

"Just pictures of the documents Sloane wants." He walked to the metal table, not releasing her hand, and she followed him. "Drop this camera in the trash can by the back door. We'll have an operative ready to retrieve it."

She nodded and put the tiny camera into her pocket. They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, and yet also the merest of seconds. She took a step backward, and then another, and another, until her fingers slipped from his. With a great effort, she turned away and walked toward the door, a chill settling deep inside her.

"Sydney." She stopped immediately and looked back over her shoulder. "Good luck in Lisbon."

His green eyes were soft and full of longing. She wanted more than anything to run back and kiss him again. But she didn't. She simply smiled at him sadly. And then she left.

When she got to her car, she sat for a moment, blinking back tears. This was hell. How were they going to endure this? She took a deep breath.

They would, though, she thought, resolve coming from somewhere to strengthen her spine. And they wouldn't have to endure it forever. She was as sure of this as she had been of anything. What they had was too good, too wonderful. They *would* be rewarded someday. If she thought they would never get to be together again, then she wouldn't be able to go on. Hope for them was as necessary to her as air now.

There had been no declarations spoken, no promises for the future. They were both too much realists for that. But they had made them all the same. And now when she thought of destroying SD-6, it wouldn't be for vengeance for Danny. It wouldn't be for justice or the safety of the world. It would be for her and Vaughn and the promise of more than one night, the promise of every night.

For that, she could endure anything.

THE END