"You work for the CIA?" Zoe was incredulous. "You?"
"Hey, you make it sound like it's a bad thing," Weiss said in a wounded tone.
"No--the CIA's a great place to work . . . I just never thought it was a place where you would work," Zoe said, the shock still evident on her face.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Come on, Eric, it's me you're talking to. I still remember the way you charmed professors into giving you good grades, convinced them you didn't need to do the same assignments everyone else did. I remember the yo-yos that occupied your time more than your econ books ever did." She leaned forward from her seat on the couch as she spoke to him.
"I'm a changed man," Weiss said proudly.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
She looked at him smugly. "I bet you ten dollars that there's a yo-yo in your pocket right now."
"A bet, huh?"
"Ten bucks says you're carrying a yo-yo."
"Well, you're wrong." He quickly shoved his hands in his pockets and then removed them, his hands still empty. "Just my wallet."
"What about this pocket?" she asked as her hand slipped inside his jacket. He stopped breathing as her hand brushed against his chest. "Aha! And what do we have here?" she asked triumphantly as she produced a shiny yo-yo.
Weiss groaned. Two hotel clerks looked up at the pair occupying the lobby.
"That will be ten dollars, sir," she said as she held out her hand. "Pay up, or the yo-yo's mine."
"That's highway robbery! That's not even a high-quality yo-yo!" he argued.
"Does this mean that I am now the proud owner of one red yo-yo?" Zoe asked, pushing her hair behind her ears.
"No, I'll just have to steal it back," Weiss said menacingly as he lunged at her.
"No!" she screamed. "Get your hands off me!"
The hotel clerks watched, amused by the scene unfolding.
"I will as soon as you give it back to me!"
"It's mine, fair and square!"
"Is not!" Weiss grabbed the yo-yo from her and held it in his hands.
"Is too!" Zoe lunged for the yo-yo, grabbed it, and stuffed it down her shirt.
"Why you little . . ." Weiss trailed off. He stared at the lump in the middle of her chest, then stared into her eyes. He swallowed. I think we're playing a different game now, he thought to himself . . . .
Weiss sat up in the bed. "Zoe?" he called out as he tried to remember where he was. He had one minute of blissful ignorance before the events of the last two days came rushing back to him. It was just a dream. She's not really here.
He grabbed the pillow that lay beside him and hugged it to his chest, wishing it was her instead. It had been a dream, a wonderful dream, a dream that had actually happened. The night they found each other again.
Weiss could feel the tears returning to his eyes. "No," he said out loud. "No more tears. Not now." Rising from the bed, he quickly dressed and headed downstairs, making sure he had his wallet and his room key.
It wouldn't make the pain go away, but it might dull it a little, he thought as he walked into the bar.
********
"Ian, I didn't expect to see you here." Jack turned around and saw Weiss sit down next to him. He ordered his drink in perfect Spanish.
"I'm impressed," Jack said. "You sound like a native."
"I had a lot of practice," Weiss admitted. "I studied it in school, and then I went on some trips here and in Mexico." He looked away for a moment, then continued. "And Zoe was always practicing her Spanish--she was afraid she'd lose it if she didn't speak it daily. I was her partner."
"I see," Jack said, then let the man focus on his drink.
"You haven't received the package yet, have you?"
"No. Have you heard from our offices in Paris?"
Weiss shook his head. "I'm sure they're fine," he encouraged.
"Someday, when it's your daughter we're discussing you'll understand," Jack stated solemnly.
"I don't know that I'll ever have a daughter," Weiss said softly. He took a gulp from his drink.
The two men sat in silence, each ordering a new drink and quietly finishing it.
"You know, you're going to be drunk if you don't watch out," Jack pointed out.
"I hope so." Weiss signaled for the bartender.
"Tell him to deliver the bottle to my room," Jack ordered.
"What?" Weiss stared at him.
"If you're going to get drunk, at least don't do so publicly," Jack chided. "On second thought, have him deliver two bottles."
"Um, Ian?"
"Yes?"
"I didn't bring enough money down here for two bottles," Weiss admitted.
Jack pulled out his wallet and threw several bills on the counter. "That should cover it."
"Muchas gracias," Weiss said.
The corners of Jack's lips turned up very slightly. "De nada," he answered.
********
"Is it really prudent for you to continue drinking?" Jack asked. He glanced around his hotel room. The first bottle, emptied long ago, lay near the trash can; Weiss had missed his three-point shot earlier.
"Shut up, Jack, and pour," Weiss said in a slurred voice. He held out his glass.
"You're going to be sorry tomorrow," Jack warned, but nevertheless poured him a generous amount. He filled a second glass for himself.
"Tomorrow's gonna be a bitch anyway. Might as well make some of the pain go away tonight," Weiss said easily. He shoved his glass in Jack's face. "More."
"Pour it yourself," Jack told him, handing him the bottle. Weiss lifted the bottle to his lips and quickly drained it as Jack watched, slightly amused.
"Is there a stash in here?" Weiss staggered across the room to the refrigerator that was tucked in the corner. He opened its door and whistled. "Jackpot!" He laughed at his joke, pulling another practically full bottle out and holding it up. "You've been holding out on me," he said as he returned to his chair. "Care to join me?"
Jack opened his mouth, forming the word "no" when he heard himself say, "Fine." Where did that come from? Maybe Weiss is right. Tomorrow probably won't be any better--might as well forget for tonight.
The two men sat in the room in silence, slowly drinking from their respective glasses. After several minutes, Weiss spoke.
"I can understand why you started drinking after Laura died."
Jack stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, I guess I shouldn't have said anything. It's just that Mike mentioned that Sydney found you one day recently at a bar and they wondered if you were off the wagon. That was the first time I heard that the infallible Jack Bristow had a weakness." Weiss grabbed the bottle and poured himself another, spilling more on the table than he managed to get in the glass.
"I . . . I am known to enjoy a drink on occasion," Jack said through pursed lips.
Weiss chuckled. "Jack, you've enjoyed enough drinks tonight to last you through Christmas. Come on, level with me. I promise I won't report you or anything. Did you or did you not get plastered on a regular basis after Laura died--disappeared--oh, hell, you know what I mean."
"It helped me forget," he finally answered. "Just as you're hoping to forget now."
"Damn, thanks a lot, Jack. I was just beginning to forget about the last couple of days," Weiss groaned. He walked unevenly to the window and looked out. "Seriously, though, does it ever get better?"
"What?"
"Does the pain ever go away? Do you ever stop aching inside from losing the woman you love? Do you start to forget she even existed?" Weiss ended on a worried note. This was rapidly becoming his fear, that he would soon forget the details that made Zoe unique--the scent of her perfume, the wink she would always give him to let him know she was teasing, the feeling he had when she slipped her small hand into his.
Jack sighed and downed the rest of his drink.
"Well?" Weiss prompted.
"The pain--it gets better. Eventually. But the first year . . . that's the hardest," he said slowly.
"First birthday without her, first Christmas without her?" Weiss guessed.
Jack smiled wryly. "That too. Of course, my situation was far from ordinary. The first year after Laura . . . left, for lack of a better word, I was under suspicion at the Agency. My first year was rather atypical."
"But still," Weiss continued, "you loved her, right?"
Jack toyed with the glass in his hand. Why was he talking about this? And to Eric Weiss, a man he hardly even knew. "Yes," he said, the emotion in his voice evident. "I loved her in a way I had never loved a woman before. Or since." His eyes took on a faraway expression, as if he were transported back in time. "I can still see the way she looked when we first met. She was so beautiful--Sydney looks a lot like her, you know--but that wasn't what attracted me to her. Not entirely. Being with her . . . I felt alive, in a way that I had never felt before. We lived the storybook life, complete with our own little princess." Jack sobered, his eyes turning cold. "And then I learned the truth."
Weiss silently handed him the nearly empty bottle. Jack quickly finished it off.
"I think it's time to call it a night," Jack said. "You're going to hate yourself in the morning."
"I already do," Weiss replied. "I already do." He stood up and staggered to the door. "Good night."
"Good night."
"Jack?" Weiss paused, his hand on the doorknob.
"Yes?"
"Thanks. For telling me about Laura." Without another word, Weiss shut the door behind him.
********
The glass crunched under his feet. No matter how careful he was to step around it, somehow the glass managed to find its way under his shoe.
He took one last look around the main floor before heading up the stairs to the offices. She had to be here somewhere, he just knew it.
The first door he opened held nothing but the normal office accoutrements. He looked around, deciding that all was as it should be before going to the next office.
He continued the pattern until he finally reached the one at the far end of the hall. He opened the door cautiously. Everything up to this point had gone better than he could have dared hoped.
He'd conducted his search without being discovered. But it had taken much longer than he'd thought it would. And it was time that he feared most.
He stepped into the room, shining the small flashlight around. The office was trashed, the desk up-ended, chairs tipped over, the computer smashed.
He moved a bit further into the room, shining the light into first one corner, then the next. He shined the light into the last corner of the room and froze.
He didn't know how long he stood there before he finally stepped closer. One look at her and he knew he was too late. He hadn't gotten there in time...
"SYDNEY!" Vaughn shouted, sitting straight up on the couch. He swung his legs around, his feet landing on the ground. Resting his elbows on his knees, he let his head drop into his hands.
"Vaughn?" Sydney asked worriedly. "What's wrong?"
It was just a dream. A horrible dream... "It's nothing. Just go back to sleep."
He didn't hear her approach. When she sat down next to him, he could barely make out her shape in the darkness.
She reached out, touching his shoulder. She quickly pulled her hand back. "My God, you're shaking," she whispered.
Vaughn scooted towards the opposite end of the couch. "It was just a bad dream. I'm fine."
She closed the space between them. "I don't believe you."
"Sydney, it was just a dream. Really, I'm fine," he repeated as he got up and went to the bathroom.
She heard him turn on the water and got up, standing outside the door. He hadn't closed it completely, and she watched as he leaned heavily against the marble sink.
"Vaughn, I'm coming in," she announced, just before she opened the door and entered the small room.
Vaughn turned to look at her. He smiled weakly. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"Will you tell me what it was about?"
He shook his head. To say it out loud might make it real... He turned back to the sink and shut off the water.
Sydney moved beside him. "Vaughn, please." She put her hand on the side of his face. "Tell me."
He reached out, his finger tracing along the bump that had formed on her forehead. He closed his eyes. It could have been so much worse...
She cocked her head to the side, studying him. Because he looked like he needed it, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
He didn't resist. He couldn't. He needed to know that she was alive. He needed to feel her soft breath on his neck. He needed her warmth to chase away the cold that had worked its way into his soul. He needed her.
"Sydney," he sighed.
"Sshh. It's okay," she answered quietly, her hand gently running over his hair. She started to move away, but he tightened his grip, refusing to let her go.
"Don't."
"I won't. Don't worry." She stepped back, breaking the embrace. Linking her hand in his, she led him out of the bathroom, deciding to leave the light on. There had been too much darkness for one night.
When he let go of her hand and headed back the couch, she pulled him back, shaking her head. "No."
She smiled at his confusion. Lying back down, she scooted to the other side of the bed. When he continued to just stand there, she patted the bed. "Lie down."
"Sydney..."
She didn't speak. She just shook her head and patted the bed again. When he didn't move, she leaned over, grasping his hand gently, drawing him to her.
"Sydney, we—"
"Are going to sleep. That's all," she finished before he could voice his objection.
He sat down on the edge of the bed reluctantly. After a minute, he gave in, swinging his legs onto the bed and pulling the covers over them both. He rolled onto his side so he could face her.
"I'm so sorry about what I said yesterday. You know that, don't you?"
Sydney nodded. "I know."
Vaughn watched as she settled her head on the pillow. She yawned, and he smiled. "Good night."
"Night," she answered tiredly, turning so that her back was to him.
He closed his eyes. He was almost asleep again when he thought he heard her voice. "Did you say something?" he asked quietly.
"Um, would you mind..." her voice trailed off.
"Would I mind what?"
Sydney stared at the wall, afraid of what he might say to her request.
"Syd?" he asked, moving a little closer.
She swallowed hard. You can do this Bristow... "Vaughn," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Michael, would you just hold me? Please?"
He was surprised to hear her use his given name. He reached over, pulling her back to him. He wrapped his arms protectively around her as she snuggled closer. Laying his head back on the pillow, he closed his eyes as sleep claimed them both.
********
Sunlight streamed through the windows several hours later when someone knocked on Weiss's door.
"This had better be good," he grumbled to himself as he walked to the door. The sunlight had blinded him when he'd opened his eyes. He felt like he'd swallowed a bale of cotton. The little jackhammer drilling away inside his head wasn't helping matters either.
"The package is here," Jack said gruffly as he pushed Weiss aside and entered the room.
"When did it show up?" he asked as he stumbled to the window, pulling the curtains closed.
"Just a few minutes ago. Apparently the agent tried to deliver it to your room first, but you wouldn't answer your door. She delivered it to me instead."
"Oh," Weiss said as he shook the cobwebs from his brain. Aspirin, I know there has to be some here somewhere... "Well, what's inside?"
"I don't know. I thought I would wait until I made sure you were awake. How's your head?" Jack asked as he fiddled with the envelope.
He finally found the aspirin. "It's been worse," Weiss lied. Water... Bathroom... Water in the bathroom... "But thanks for asking."
Jack nodded, then opened the large, padded envelope as Weiss disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a moment later, a half-drained glass in his hand.
"The agent relayed that we are supposed to open this immediately," Jack said in an aggravated voice.
"What? Like we're just going to push it aside for a few days?" Weiss asked incredulously. "Man, she must be new."
"Weiss?"
"Yeah?"
"Didn't you say that Davenport was requesting still photos from the airport?" Jack inquired.
"Yeah. A few photos from the security cameras to verify that the guys we followed last night weren't Sark and Tippin," Weiss answered as he searched for aspirin in his suitcase.
"Incompetent agents," Jack cursed. He held up a videotape. "Looks like someone was too lazy to convert the video to photos."
"Where are we going to find a VCR?" Weiss asked.
"I'll ask downstairs," Jack said as he stood up. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He closed the door behind him.
Weiss grabbed some clothes and headed back to the bathroom. As he stood in the shower he realized they still hadn't heard anything from Paris. I hope they're all right, he worried to himself. And I hope they're making better progress than we are. But they'd better leave Sark for me, he thought as quickly dried off with a towel. Sark is all mine.
He was buttoning up his shirt when there was another knock on the door. "Coming," Weiss called as he peered through the peephole. "Long time, no see," he said as Jack entered the room carrying a VCR.
"On loan from downstairs," Jack said as he placed it on top of the television set. He quickly plugged it in. "Where's the video?"
"Over here," Weiss answered as he picked it up and handed it to Jack.
Jack placed the tape in the VCR and pressed "play."
"Here goes nothing," Weiss said.
They were greeted by a black screen.
"Do you have the remote?" Weiss asked after several seconds of nothing.
"No," Jack answered as the screen suddenly changed.
Except it wasn't an image of the airport that the two agents saw.
"What the hell?" Weiss blurted out. He looked over at Jack, who was staring back at him.
There, on the television screen, was the image of a house, the bright lights from the inside contrasting with the dark night. Cars were parked alongside the street, and a hedge could be seen on one side.
Without warning, the time appeared in the corner of the screen. "10:02 p.m."
"Oh my God," Weiss gasped as the front door of the house opened, and a petite woman walked outside. She pulled a cell phone out of her purse and began to dial a number. Moments later, she was talking animatedly, pushing her auburn hair out of her eyes as a breeze blew.
The woman walked to a parked car and paused. As she continued to talk on the phone, a man dressed in black crept through the front door of the house.
"No," Weiss moaned. He watched as she placed her purse on the hood of the car, apparently looking for something. Behind her, two more men entered the house. A few minutes later she ended her call and placed the phone in her purse. After one last unsuccessful search, she picked up her purse and turned around, walking towards the front door once more.
The backdrop suddenly changed to the interior of the house as Jack and Weiss watched, horrified. Weiss no longer had to wonder what Zoe's face looked like as she went to hell and back; the image was now burned in his memory. The two agents stared at the screen as audio was now joined with video, inflicting terror in both men.
"Let her go. She won't go far," they heard Sark say as Zoe stumbled out the front door.
"Come on," Weiss pleaded, even as he knew what must be coming. "Just a little farther and you would be safe."
Zoe weaved through the front yard, slowly moving towards her car. Jack noticed that her car keys were now dangling from her right hand. He cursed. If only she hadn't left them inside . . .
In the corner of the screen, Jack noticed a new car. "Someone else pulled up," he said in a low voice. Someone stepped out of the car and walked towards Zoe.
"It looks like a woman," Weiss said. "See?" he said, pointing. "Doesn't that look like a purse to you?"
Jack nodded in agreement, eyes narrowing as his heart lurched. No. It wasn't possible . . .
"Come on, lady, help her!" Weiss ordered the woman on the screen.
The two men watched as the woman approached Zoe. "I don't get it," Weiss said, puzzled. "We didn't find any other bodies."
"I don't think she was harmed by Sark and his men," Jack answered as they watched the two women on the screen. The stranger was leading Zoe away from her car.
"Why's she doing that?" Weiss asked out loud.
Jack said nothing, staring at the television. Somehow he wasn't surprised when the woman removed a syringe from her purse and quickly stabbed it into Zoe's neck. Zoe instantly crumpled to the ground, next to the hedge. Her killer placed the needle back in her purse and leaned down, picking something up off the ground.
The killer walked away and met Sark and his men in the front yard. Jack and Weiss strained, trying to hear any audio or read their lips, but it was pointless.
Sark got in the killer's car and sped off. The two men headed in the direction of the other vehicle.
Only the killer remained. She walked to Zoe's car and unlocked the doors. She took Zoe's keys, Weiss realized as the car sped off into the night.
The screen held an image of the safe house for a few moments, then went black.
Jack stood up and turned off the television, the shock evident on his face.
"She would be alive right now if it wasn't for that woman," Weiss said sorrowfully. "What kind of woman could kill an innocent person like Zoe?"
Jack swallowed hard, then looked into Weiss's eyes. "My wife."
********