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For disclaimers, etc., see the A/N at the beginning.
~~~~~~~~
"Me, a name I call myself. Fa, a long, long way to run," could be heard from behind the curtain.
British Dude sighed. "I thought that would knock him out," he said in an annoyed voice.
"No, I said that was a possibility. The poison that we gave him was not the same strength that the others received. His shot not only alleviated the allergy symptoms, it made him, shall we say, inebriated. Delusional," the doctor finished with a smirk.
"Well, he certainly is delusional if that could be called singing," British Dude retorted.
The doctor shrugged. "Tippin is a fan of musicals. Sorry, there's nothing I can do about that."
"But The Sound of Music? Why did he have to start singing every song from that damn movie?"
"At least he's nearing the end," the doctor answered as Will began to sing "Climb Every Mountain."
British Dude groaned. "Make him stop. Now."
"But with another dose of the poison . . . ." the doctor trailed off. "You said we weren't going to kill him!"
"I lied," British Dude said crisply. "But first we're going to let him know that the true meaning of 'torture' is far more than his unrequited love for Ms. Bristow." He smiled. "Give him the shot."
********
The lights had been off in the cabin for twenty minutes when Vaughn shifted in his seat.
"Are you okay?" a low voice asked beside him.
He turned slightly, still not quite comfortable with the fact that she was sitting next to him for all the world to see. "Just a little tired of sitting," he said quietly. "All I've done is rush from one place to the next, only to sit in one seat for several hours. It's boring. Besides, I hate cross-Atlantic flights."
"Really? I thought you'd be used to them," she replied as she looked around the cabin. The half-empty flight was filled with dozing passengers. One elderly woman had a blindfold over her face to block out any light that could possibly come from the flight attendants' stations, while a group of teenagers had their eyes closed as they moved their heads to the beat of music that could be heard from their headphones.
Three scrawny business men who hadn't seen the inside of a gym lately and a family of five in the back of the plane who were, from the excited chatter, on their first trip to Europe. None looked too dangerous, she assessed as she glanced back at Vaughn. Of course, if anyone looked at me, they wouldn't think I was a threat either.
"How's Weiss holding up?" she whispered.
"He's making it on pure adrenaline at this point. I'm just hoping he makes it through Madrid," Vaughn sighed, raking a hand through his hair.
"Why? What's so special about Madrid?" Sydney asked, leaning closer to catch his answer.
"Madrid . . . it was their special place, where they reconnected. They first met in college, a sociology class, I think, but something happened, and he didn't see her again for a long time. Then, while he was working on an op in Spain two years ago, they bumped into each other. They'd been together ever since."
"Two years? He'd really been dating the same woman for two years? Wow," she said, impressed. "I didn't even realize he was dating anyone."
"Well it was hard on him when he got back from Spain. She had one more semester to finish on her contract before she could come back. It's funny, really. She'd already planned on coming home before she and Eric got back together. But man, when she got back..."
"What?" Sydney asked, intrigued.
"I don't think I saw him for a month straight. He took a couple weeks personal leave, without pay, so he could help her find an apartment. Then he volunteered me to help her move in. After she was all settled, he took her on a trip up the coast. When he came back, he was a different man. He was happy."
Sydney smiled. "You liked her."
The simplicity of the statement had him swallowing hard. "Yeah, I did. They were good together. And then one day, she was there in the office. When Weiss saw her, I thought he was going to flip out. He didn't know why she was there. Before she had a chance to explain, Devlin called us all into his office to introduce her. Seems as though she had decided to get a job with the CIA her second semester in Spain."
Vaughn paused for a moment before continuing. "By the time the meeting was over, Weiss realized that they were going to have to keep their relationship quiet."
"Obviously he was able to do just that."
Vaughn rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah, but it wasn't easy. Every time he'd see her, he'd just light up. I warned him that fraternizing wasn't allowed--you can see how well he took my advice," Vaughn remembered with a wry smile. "Even if she wasn't an agent--yet--they didn't need to get entangled in a romantic relationship."
"Entangled," Sydney echoed in a hollow voice.
"Yeah, I think that's the word I used," he admitted. "Back then, I told myself you shouldn't get close to anyone you worked with, no matter who the person was."
Sydney stared at Vaughn as his words washed over her. Back then...
He reached over and squeezed her hand. "I don't think that now."
She squeezed his hand back and looked him directly in the eye. "Good," she said firmly.
Vaughn visibly swallowed as an image of an angry Jack Bristow took shape in his mind. Glancing forward, he shook his hand free. "I'm glad Eric's working with Jack," he said. "It'll be good for him."
"Why? Because my dad's a senior agent?" Sydney asked, puzzled.
"That too," Vaughn said absently as he stared at the flight attendant who was walking down the aisle. She looked at the pair and smiled. "If you so much as lay a finger on my daughter..." Vaughn jumped in his seat.
"Are you okay?" Sydney asked, concerned. She reached over to touch his arm.
"Fine, fine," Vaughn said, removing her hand. "Anyway, what was I saying?" he said in a distracted voice.
"Weiss working with my dad, how it's a good thing?" Sydney supplied.
"Oh, right. Yeah, I think that Eric needs someone like your father," he emphasized the words, "with him right now."
Sydney chuckled. "Vaughn, are you sure you're ok? You just said that."
"I'm okay, honest," he said.
"So?"
"So what?" he asked nervously.
"So why does Eric need Dad?" she supplied.
"Oh, yeah. It's simple, really." Vaughn looked into Sydney's eyes briefly before glancing away. "They've both lost the woman that they loved," he muttered softly.
"Oh," Sydney replied softly.
They sat quietly for a moment before Vaughn turned back to Sydney. "Syd, I need to ask you about something."
Sydney glanced over. "What?"
"When I called you at Dixon's," he asked hesitantly.
"What about it?"
"What you said at the end..."
"You mean when I said 'Bye'?"
"No, after that."
Sydney froze. No, he didn't hear what I said. He couldn't have. He'd already hung up the phone... "After that?" she asked, her voice an octave higher than normal.
Vaughn sighed. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing. Might as well just say it. "When you said 'I love you'."
Sydney shifted uncomfortably in her seat before looking at Vaughn. "What about it?" Damn damn damn... Why did he have to hear that?
"Syd, why did you say it?" he asked.
Sydney glanced away. "It's just something you say."
"No, it isn't," he answered impatiently. At least not to her father, he thought, turning her face back to him. "Now why did you say it?"
Sydney shook her head loose from his grasp. "Why do you think I said it?" she asked defensively.
"I don't know why. That's what I'm asking."
God, why is my life such a goddamned mess? "I had to make Dixon think I was talking to Dad."
Vaughn sat back and continued to stare at her. Is she purposely trying to drive me insane? "And when, exactly, was the last time you said that to your dad?"
"Probably a lot more recently than you said it to yours." The minute the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. "Oh God!" she gasped, her hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that."
Vaughn sat there, stunned. Her words had hurt more than if she'd physically hit him. "Well, you've got me there. But at least there is one thing I'm certain of," he replied coldly.
"What?" she asked quietly.
"That my mother loved my father. And she loves me," he added. Looking around the cabin, he noticed a couple of empty seats near the front. He stood up and looked for the flight attendant.
He found her at the attendant's station preparing a cup of coffee. "Excuse me?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Those two seats at the front, are they occupied?"
The attendant looked to where he was pointing. "No, they aren't. Did you wish to move?"
"Well, my leg is cramping up a bit and up there I could stretch out a little," he lied. He smiled at the woman. "Would that be a problem?"
She smiled back. "Not at all. Do you need a pillow or a blanket?"
He looked back to where Sydney was sitting. "No, I have them already. I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't be a problem."
"That will be fine." As Vaughn turned back towards his seat, the attendant quietly added, "I hope it helps."
"I'm sure it will," Vaughn answered. Going back to his seat, he angrily grabbed the pillow and blanket he'd been given earlier.
Sydney hadn't moved a muscle, frozen by his words and tone. When he came back and retrieved the pillow and blanket, she looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "I'm so..."
"You know, right now, I don't really care if you are sorry or not. I'm going up there and I'm going to get some sleep. I'd suggest you do the same," he stated icily as he moved to the front of the plane.
Sydney watched him walk away, letting the tears fall. Turning in her seat, she leaned against the window and stared out into the darkness.
She thought about the conversation she'd had with Weiss while they'd waited for her father and Vaughn to join them outside the safe house in Newark. Saying the conversation had been awkward was a huge understatement.
"You dropped this earlier," Weiss stated as he reached into his pocket and retrieved the packet.
She'd taken what he offered her. Her face froze. God, of all the things I could have had fall out of my purse, why did it have to be this? she'd wondered. "I... I can explain about this," she stuttered.
"Sydney, you don't have to explain anything," Weiss stated tiredly.
"Yes, I do. These aren't mine."
"Whatever you say." He held up his hand to prevent Sydney from saying anything before he could finish. "I know you care about him. He cares about you too."
Sydney dropped her head. She wished she could deny what he'd just said, but the fact was she didn't want to. "So you think I planned..."
Weiss had stepped back, horrified at the suggestion. "No! God, no." He'd shoved his hands in his pockets. "Sydney..."
He cleared his throat and tried again. "Listen, Mike is my best friend and I don't want to see him get hurt."
"You think I would hurt him?"
He'd just stared at her. "No. Not intentionally. But the fact is, you did hurt him when Noah Hicks came back into your life. I don't want to see him hurt like that again. Not by anyone and that includes you."
"Miss, are you ok?" the flight attendant asked.
Sydney was startled out of her reverie by the flight attendant's question. "Um, yes. I'm fine," she answered as she wiped the tears from her face. She glanced at her watch, surprised to find that she'd been staring out the window for over an hour.
"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked sympathetically.
"No, thank you. Really, I'm fine," Sydney lied.
"You're sure?"
"Yes, but could you tell me how soon we'll be landing?"
The attendant looked at her watch. "We still have another three and a half hours before we'll reach Paris."
"Oh," Sydney replied softly. She watched as the woman started back to her station. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Sydney looked up to where Vaughn was sitting as Weiss's words echoed in her mind. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but that's exactly what she'd done. Again.
She watched him for a few minutes, trying to judge whether or not he was asleep. Finally, she decided that it didn't matter as she grabbed her own blanket and pillow and changed seats as well.
She sat down beside him, trying not to wake him as she did. Pulling the blanket around her, she watched him awhile longer, but soon, fatigue made it difficult to keep her eyes open.
Before drifting off into a restless sleep, she leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, whispering "I am so sorry."
********
"I--I don't have my passport," Will said slowly as he dragged behind British Dude down the steps of the plane.
"No need to worry; it's been taken care of," he answered shortly.
"How did you get a copy of my passpo--never mind," Will finished under his breath as he saw the darts being shot from British Dude's eyes.
British Dude nodded towards a sleek black automobile. "You will be going directly to our safe house. I must first report to my employer," he pointed to a second vehicle. "I will meet you there shortly."
"Okay," Will said. His brain felt so fuzzy, and there was this pain--not quite a pain, really, more like a dull ache. Everywhere. Am I getting the flu now? It's not even flu seas--
"Mr. Tippin?"
"Huh?" Will asked blearily, waking up.
"Narcoleptic," British Dude muttered. "My employer and I will meet with you shortly."
"Okay," Will yawned as he climbed in the back seat. "'Night night," he mumbled. The door shut, and the car sped away.
Just then a cell phone rang. British Dude removed a phone from his front pocket. "Hello? Yes, we're here . . . just landed at Gatwick. Yes, yes. Very good. I'll be there in ten minutes. . . What? Oh, yes." His lips curled into a smile. "I'm certain they know who's responsible."
********
Eric Weiss walked into the classroom and sighed. It was just as he had expected--a class of freshmen. God, he felt old, ancient even. All at the ripe old age of twenty-two.
"Are you here for Introduction to Sociology?" the professor inquired from the podium. Eric looked at her and nodded.
"Take a seat, please. We're about to begin," she said, nodding towards the one available desk in the room.
Great. And it's at the front of the room, too, Eric thought to himself as he sank into the seat.
"Welcome to Introduction to Sociology," the professor greeted the students. "When I call your name, please answer 'here.'"
Eric sat through the endless list of names, waiting for her to get to the Ws already. After calling his name, the professor looked up. "Is there anyone's name that I did not call?" she asked, peering behind her wire-rimmed glasses. She looked at Eric. "Yes? Your name?"
Eric opened his mouth to correct her when he heard a quiet voice behind him answer.
"Zoe Pierson," a melodic voice said. "The Registrar's office said that I'll be on the updated roll, but for now I have a note from them."
Eric watched as a petite girl hurried past him to hand over the note. Man, she was hot. Wait a minute, Eric. If she looks like a high school student, she probably is as young as a high school student. Don't get yourself arrested because of some little girl!
He tuned the professor out over the next twenty minutes as she reviewed the course policies and the syllabus. In fact, he continued to tune her out as she put the class in pairs for a semester-long project.
"And, let's see . . . Mr. Weiss?"
"Yes?" Eric said, jerking to attention.
"You will be working with . . . ah, yes, Ms. Pierson," the professor said, scribbling the new name onto her roll.
"Pierson?" he echoed. He felt a tapping on his shoulder and turned around. A pair of beautiful green eyes stared back at him.
"Hi, I'm Zoe," she said nervously.
"Eric," he said, hoping he sounded smooth.
"So I guess we're partners, huh?"
"Guess so," he said. And who said putting off this intro course was a bad thing? he thought to himself . . . .
Tap, tap, tap. Weiss lifted his head from the small pillow that he'd found in one of the plane's storage cabinets.
"What?" he asked blearily.
"We'll be landing shortly," Jack said, folding his hands in his lap.
"Landing? Oh, yeah. Madrid," Weiss said slowly as his memories of sociology drifted to the back of his mind.
"We have to get our passports out," Jack informed him.
"Okay," Weiss said as he reached down into his carry-on bag and removed the new document. Nicholas Edward Thompson it proclaimed in large, bold print. He knew without looking that Jack had removed his passport from his suit jacket. Not Jack, Weiss corrected himself. Mr. Ian Charles Huntington now.
"Please put your seats in the upright position and buckle your seat belts," the pilot announced over the intercom. "We will be descending into Madrid momentarily."
The plane slowly began its descent to land.
"Here," Jack said.
"What?" Weiss turned his head slightly and saw Jack holding out a piece of gum.
"For when we land."
"Oh." Who knew Jack Bristow could be considerate? Maybe he's just getting into his new character as a philanthropist. Weiss took the piece of gum, unwrapped it, and placed it in his mouth. "Thanks."
Weiss stared out the window as the plane neared the runway. Could it really be only two years ago that I--
"Gentlemen, welcome to Spain. Bienvenidos al Aeropuerto de Madrid Barajas," the pilot said, disturbing his train of thought.
"Agent Weiss, thank you for coming so quickly," Agent Brown said. "We appreciate your help in locating the suspect."
"You're welcome," he answered as he patted the yo-yo in his pocket. He was hoping for a quick op, nothing too dangerous. Just a respite from the sterile environment of the L.A. Bureau.
"Do you have everything, Nicholas?" Jack--Ian--asked solicitously. Weird. Now he uses my first name.
"Yes," Weiss answered. Ian spun on his heel and began walking towards the exit. Nicholas followed behind him. At the escalators they got separated by a group of students who had packed far too much.
"Sorry," Brown told him. "American students who've never been to Spain before. Happens each summer about this time. Just don't get stuck in the middle of a group of them--you may not make it out alive," he joked as Weiss grinned.
"Oh my gosh, I can't believe we're here!"
"Hola, Spain!"
"This is so cool!" Students chattered all around him as Ian got further away from him. Finally breaking away from the group, he met Ian as he hailed a taxi.
"There you are," Ian said patronizingly. He stepped inside the vehicle and turned to the driver. "Tryp Alameda, por favor," he said. The driver nodded and hit the gas pedal.
"If you get a chance, you should really try to do some of the touristy things. This is a great time of year to visit," Brown told him as they drove to the safe house.
Weiss nodded. "I've been here before," he said.
"Really?" Brown looked surprised. "When?"
Weiss grinned. "I was one of those college kids you were talking about," he said.
Brown had the decency to look embarrassed for a second before continuing his travelogue.
"Gracias," Ian told the driver as they pulled up to the hotel. He handed him some of the money that they had been given in New Jersey.
"De nada," the driver answered, then sped away.
The two agents quickly checked into neighboring rooms. Jack was just putting his suitcase away when there was a knock on his door.
Pulling it open, he wasn't surprised to find Weiss on the other side. "Is there something I can do for you Nicholas?"
Weiss stalked into the room. "What are you doing?"
Jack shut the door behind him and went back over to the closet. "I'm unpacking," he replied blandly.
"I can see that, but don't we have other things we should be doing?"
Jack shook his head. He'd expected this. "Yes, but in case you didn't notice, everything is closed right now. I'd suggest you go back to your room and get some sleep. I have a few calls to make, then I plan on resting for a bit."
"But..."
"But nothing. You need to be prepared to do what is necessary when the time comes. The only way that will happen is if you have had some sleep." Jack moved back to the door. "Trust me."
Weiss glared at Jack, not believing that now that they were here, all Jack wanted to do was take a nap. "Fine. What time shall we begin?"
Jack looked at his watch. 2:15 p.m. "How about 6:30? That should give us both time to rest a bit and wait for the information we need to get started."
Weiss nodded. "Do you want me to come here?"
"No," Jack stated as he opened the door. "I'll come to your room."
"Okay," Weiss replied, yawning. Maybe sleep wasn't such a bad idea after all... "I'll be ready."
Jack closed the door and went to his jacket, retrieving his own cell phone, one he knew for a fact to be secure. Sitting down at the desk, he dialed the first number and waited for it to be answered.