Please see Prologue for general info and disclaimers.

*~*

Six days earlier…

"There's the birthday girl."

Seated on the hardwood floor with her back pressed against a wall, her arms wrapped around her bent legs, and a half-empty beer bottle growing warm in her hands, Sydney lifted her head to see Will smiling down at her. "You made it," she replied, the words rolling lazily off her tongue as she grinned back up at him.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late," he apologized, taking a seat beside her on the floor. "Kitvack decided that she hated the entire second half of my article on Freeway Sam and ordered me to do a complete rewrite before I could leave the office. And then, on top of all that, I had the print guys breathing down my neck because they needed to know how much space this article's going to end up taking and it was just… It was bad. Believe me. I didn't think I was ever gonna get out of there. Anyway, happy birthday. I'm sorry I wasn't here for the big surprise scene."

"That's okay," Sydney cooed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm just happy you're here now."

Will raised an eyebrow at the extremely mellow Sydney resting against him and couldn't help asking, "How many beers have you had, Syd?"

"Oh, I don't know," she slurred, her eyes falling shut as she yearned for a night of blissful sleep. "Probably two too many."

"Are you drunk?"

"Why?" Cracking an eye open, Sydney turned and gazed at him in what she thought was a seductive manner. "Are you trying to figure out if you can take advantage of me, Will Tippin?"

"Actually," he responded, chuckling at her come-on, "I was trying to figure out if this would be an opportune time for me to find out why you've been so depressed lately. You know, ask you a few choice questions while your defense mechanisms are a little…less than 100%."

The haze Sydney had been so eager to escape into when the night had begun quickly dissipated from her mind as the full weight of her existence tumbled once again upon her. No longer smiling and no longer feeling playful, she scooted away from Will and sighed, "Will, don't."

"Hey, Syd, I was just kidding. You know I'd never—"

"Well, I'm not," she declared with as much force as she could muster. "I know you and Francie have been worried about me and I know my reasons for my moodiness have been, well, crap. But the reason I haven't told you more isn't because I don't want to or because I don't trust you, but because it has to do with work and there're those non-disclosure forms and—"

"Covert agreements and dumb ass promises from a job that really sucks," Will broke in. "I know. Trust me, I know."

Sydney laughed at the sarcasm in his voice as she moved back to his side and lay her head on his shoulder once more. "You really hate my job, don't you?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," he stated without missing a beat. "But seriously, I'm sorry I made you upset. I really didn't mean to."

"Don't worry about it. We're at a party. No apologies allowed."

Will smiled and rested his head on top of Sydney's. "Well, thank you for that, but I think I'd better go find Francie and tell her I'm sorry for showing up late. To be honest, I'm actually kinda surprised there isn't a sign taped on the outside of the front door saying 'Will Tippin not welcome here.'"

Lifting the beer bottle to her lips, she pointed towards the middle of the room, where the makeshift dance floor was located, and mumbled, "I don't think she's noticed your absence."

"What do you mean…" His words trailed off as he finally figured out where Sydney was pointing and saw Francie snuggled up in the arms of a man. "Hey, did she hook up with someone? Go, Francie. I always knew she would— Oh my God. Is that…?"

"Yep," Sydney responded gleefully.

"Charlie. She's back together with Charlie?"

"I don't know about the together part, but she invited him to the party and they've been inseparable since he showed up. I think it's great."

"Wait. Charlie? Yanked-her-heart-out-of-her-chest-threw-it-on-the-ground-and-then-danced-the-Macarena-on-it Charlie?"

Sydney snickered and thumped her bottle against the center of his chest. "Here. You sound like you need this more than I do."

"Well, I just… I never… Wow, you show up a few hours late to a party and it's like you've walked into an alternate universe."

"The world's a funny place, Will."

"Yeah, I guess."

The two fell silent as Will downed what remained of Sydney's beer. The lukewarm liquid burned his throat, causing him to cringe – which alcohol always did – as he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Francie. She and Charlie were swaying in time to the music and they both seemed oblivious to the fact that a party was occurring around them. They look so happy, he thought, immediately wishing he was like Sydney and had consumed two too many beers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone on a real date. Carly? Could she really have been the last one? The one Amy had set him up with and he'd wanted to ditch within the first five minutes? God, that'd been…what? Six months ago? He really was going through a dry spell. Yes, there'd been Jenny, but they'd never actually dated.

A slow smile crept across his face as he recalled how she'd shown up at his door one night, uninvited and completely soaked. She'd claimed she'd been visiting a friend who lived near him and had decided on a whim to stop by and say hi. She'd also claimed that she hadn't realized it was raining. She'd smirked lasciviously and asked if he had a towel she could borrow, knowing that he knew why she was there. He can't remember whether he ever gave her that towel. But, then again, the towel hadn't really been needed because they'd ended up in his bed soon enough.

But still, he missed romance. He'd deny it if asked, but he missed the lightheadedness and the quiver in the pit of his stomach that he experienced only when he was on his way to meet up with a great girl. Sydney sometimes elicited that bodily response from him, but… He turned his head and watched her gaze dreamily up at the ceiling, unaware of his scrutiny. What was she thinking about? He often asked himself that and yet he never got any closer to an answer. If he asked her, he knew she'd say, without hesitation, "Oh, nothing." And then she'd mention something about work or school or her relationship with her father, depending on what mood she was in. She was an open book and a closed book to him, all at the same time.

Perhaps it was his frustration over this or his lack of a girlfriend or the overall state of his life that led him to tap Sydney's left foot with his right one. "Hey, you know how I said I was late because I had to rewrite part of an article?"

"Mm-hmm." Certain that she was about to be treated to another one of Will's entertaining stories, she turned to look at him and smiled. "Freeway Sam, right?"

"Right. I, uh…" He hesitated as he pulled his glasses away from his face. "I lied when I said that. The Freeway Sam article's a piece of fluff. I don't think Kitvack even bothered to read it. I was late because I was out walking. Walking and thinking."

Sydney straightened her stooped back against the wall and struggled to overcome the fatigue that had lay claim to her mind. She didn't want to have to think about being cautious or concerned, but there was something about Will's tone that was triggering her survival instinct. "Will, are you… Is something going on?"

"I think I may've gotten in over my head on something," he admitted with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes with the butt of his left hand. "I've been working on this article about this guy who's in jail for larceny. He insists that he's innocent and I believe him."

"Okay, so you're…what? Hoping that if you write this article about him, then his sentence will get overturned? I don't know a lot about how the justice system works, but I'm pretty sure that's not how." Now fully alert, Sydney studied Will with wide eyes, every muscle in her body tightening as she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

"No, this is about a lot more than getting a man out of jail, Syd. This guy, he's a…or he was a computer programmer and he started this business that one company in particular really wanted to buy from him. When he refused to sell, this company threatened him. They told him that if he didn't give them what they wanted, then they'd turn his life upside-down. He didn't take them seriously because, well, c'mon, it's not like we're living in the wild, wild West, right? But then he came home from work nine years ago and found his wife. Dead. The police ruled it a suicide, but… He pled guilty to a larceny charge soon afterwards and gave up his business in the process. Now he's in jail and his daughter's living on an entirely different continent for her own protection."

"Will, this sounds serious."

"That's because it is serious."

"How did you get connected with this guy? Is he even—"

"Look, that doesn't matter," Will insisted, sliding himself closer to Sydney and dropping his voice even lower. "I believe this guy and everything he's told me about what this company's done to his family and his life."

Feeling as if her heart would break through her rib cage, Sydney licked her lips and exhaled unevenly. "What are you doing with him, Will? What does he want from you?"

"He wants to right a wrong. He knows he can't bring his wife back. And he knows it's going to be another eight years before he gets out of jail, so his daughter's going to have to grow up alone. He can't change any of that. But what he can change – the only thing he can change – is to take this company down, to show them that they can't threaten and destroy innocent people's lives without suffering any repercussions. He has the proof he needs to show what this company did."

"And he wants to use you as his means for doing so."

"Yeah. And he didn't seek me out, if that's what you're thinking. We kind of…stumbled upon each other."

Sydney shifted her gaze away from Will's imploring face and focused her eyes on a gray smudge located just above his left shoulder. The things he'd told her, the threats and the killings, they sounded frighteningly familiar as a kernel of dread began to expand in her belly. He might not know what he was exactly up against, but she did. She knew all too well. "If things are as simple as you've just laid out," she croaked, her eyes still fixated upon the blotch on the wall, "then you wouldn't have been out walking and thinking tonight. What happened, Will? Were you threatened?"

"No," he replied too quickly to be believed. But when he saw Sydney drop her head and sigh, he confessed, "Okay, maybe once. Or twice." A phantom pain shot up his left cheekbone as he recalled his 'bout' with his kidnappers. "But that's it and—"

"Twice! What are you doing, Will? This isn't a game. These guys obviously mean business and I—"

"I know!" he barked before checking himself and lowering his volume. "I know, Syd. I'm not stupid. I dropped the story. I went back to the prison and told the guy there that I couldn't – I wouldn't – pursue this story anymore. But then he asked me why and I coul—"

"Why?!" Sydney gasped, her voice catching in the middle of her throat. "Is he on crack? If anyone should know why you wouldn't want—"

"No, he understood my reasons, but… He told me that if he had a chance to do it over again, he still wouldn't have sold his business to this company, but he also wouldn't have just ignored them when they made their threats. He said that he would've gone to the police and tried to do everything he could to stop them. And I… I just feel that if he's still willing to take this chance even after knowing everything that happened to his family, then what right do I have to not be willing to do the same. I mean, I became a journalist because I wanted to report the truth and I've now been given the perfect opportunity to do that. What kind of journalist am I if, at the first sign of danger, I turn and run?"

"What kind of journalist?" she exclaimed as her vision blurred and she lost control over weeks' worth of suppressed emotions. "How about a smart one, Will? Or a live one? Of course this guy – whoever he is – says he'd try to stop this company. He can say this without having to think twice about it because he already knows that, regardless of whether he goes to the police or tries to ignore them, his wife is still going to end up dead. He is still going to end up in prison. And his daughter is still going to end up living in some foreign country without her mother or father. He's already lost everything! He's got nothing more to lose! But you, Will, you still have it all. If something happened to you, I don't know what I'd— You're all I have left. You and Francie. You two mean everything to me! If I didn't have… Please, Will, just please. Don't do anything to make me lose you."

And before Will had a chance to comprehend fully what was being said and what was going on, Sydney slumped against the wall and wept uncontrollably.

"Oh, God, Syd, please don't cry," he pleaded, rushing to her side and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "I'm— I was being stupid. I'm sorry. Of course I'm not gonna do this story. I'm so sorry."

Sydney nestled her nose into his neck and allowed him to draw her closer to his chest. She felt his fingertips press into her back and the warmth of his breath brush against the exposed skin at the base of her neck as he cooed "Shh" over and over again. Closing her eyes, she calmed her erratic heartbeat as she drew Will's scent into her body. He smelled as he always did: one-part menthol after-shave, one-part the cologne his mother bought him every Christmas, and one-part the tangy sour musk he always emitted from stressing over deadlines and driving in bumper-to-bumper traffic. She held onto him for a second longer than was necessary before pulling away and running her thumb under her nose. "I'm so embarrassed," she muttered sheepishly. "I can't believe I started crying at my birthday party."

"You're embarrassed? Hello, I'm the one who made you cry. How do you think I feel right now?" Will mumbled under his breath.

Drying the lower rims of her eyes with the tips of her middle fingers, Sydney chuckled, the laughter jarring her senses. "I'm sorry I broke down like that. It's just been a really emotional…month for me."

"No, don't start saying that you're sorry. If there's anyone who should be sorry, it's me. I don't know what I was thinking about when I thought continuing with this story would be a good idea. I think I had my head stuck in Pulitzer land or something." He reached out and grasped her ice-cold hands. "You mean the world to me, too, Syd, and I'd never do anything to put you, me, Francie, or anyone that we cared about in danger. I mean that."

Sydney freed her hands from Will's and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered with relieved joy. And then because she was a double agent who needed to make sure her cover remained intact, she lightened her tone and asked, "Now what do you say we forget any of this happened and go dance?"

"Okay, I'm all for the forgetting, but dancing? I—"

"Oh, c'mon, it's my birthday," she wheedled, already in the process of struggling to her feet.

"Fine, but only because you're the birthday girl and I'm afraid you're gonna start crying again if I say no," he deadpanned, ducking just in time to avoid an attempted swat at his head.

Once out on the dance floor, Will gave Sydney a twirl before settling his left hand into the small of her back and intertwining the fingers of his right hand with those of her left hand. With an arm wrapped around his neck and her chin resting on his shoulder, Sydney could feel the pulse of their hearts synchronize underneath all their clothes. Not wanting to let go but also knowing that she'd have to eventually, she tightened her hold and murmured, "I love you, Will."

The room began to spin as he digested the unexpected declaration and felt his stomach lurch. You're a masochistic fuck, he condemned himself. But that didn't stop him from grinning like a Cheshire cat as he ran a hand down her hair and catalogued the moment in his mind. "I love you, too, Syd. I love you, too."