Chapter Nine: Notorious
Michael entered the party with Sydney, but he excused himself to get some air almost as soon as they'd arrived. He wasn't in the mood to be social just then.
Unfortunately, he found that even out on the balcony, he wouldn't have the chance to be alone. A slim blonde woman who looked to be in her early twenties stood, fumbling through the pockets of the tuxedo jacket she'd thrown over her ice blue dress.
"Looking for something?" Michael asked. He wasn't sure why. He could have just ignored her, taken a few deep breaths, and gone back inside. But he had no desire to go back to the party just yet, even if that was where Sydney was.
"Oh." The woman looked up at him, and he was startled to see that her eyes were two different colors, one green and one blue. She was quite striking, actually, with her white blonde hair and her tanned, freckled skin. Funny, but Michael had almost exclusively dated blondes, before Sydney. "I thought my date would have some matches in his jacket pocket, but I guess he doesn't. Do you have a light?"
"Oh. Sure." Michael didn't smoke himself, but he'd learned somewhere that carrying around a pack of cigarettes and a lighter was a good way to strike up a conversation with someone, should the need arise. He'd like to say he'd learned it in CIA training, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had been from some spy movie.
"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him as he lit her cigarette. "My name's Brooke Banning."
"Michael Vaughn."
"Oh." A glint of recognition flashed in her eyes. "I've heard of you. You're with Irina's daughter."
"Yes." It surprised him that she'd heard of him. He didn't know whether it should concern him, as well. "I didn't really know I was famous around here."
"Mmm, more like notorious," she said, a lilting laugh escaping from her delicate pink lips. "You're the CIA agent who went bad."
Michael felt his heart leap into his throat, but he did his best to ignore it. "Not bad, necessarily," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "Different."
This warranted raised eyebrows from Brooke. "If you think that, then you don't know Irina very well. Is her daughter half as evil as she is?"
"She has her moments," Michael said, surprising himself. Where had that come from? "I mean, Sydney's great," he added hastily.
Brooke smirked, looking him up and down in a way he wasn't sure he completely hated. "But…"
Michael shrugged. "Things are just complicated between the two of us. More complicated than I'd like, sometimes." Damn, what was he saying?
But Brooke seemed to understand perfectly. "You know, you struggle through all that getting-to-know-you bullshit when you first meet someone--"
"Like now?" Michael cut in.
"Yeah," she said, and they both laughed. "Anyway, and you wish you could just skip all that. Then after awhile you've been through so much with that other person, and it gets so complicated, and sometimes you wish you could go back to the point when all you knew about them was that you liked the way they looked."
"Exactly." Except, he'd never had that with Sydney. They hadn't met in a bar. He hadn't eyed her from across the room and decided to make a move. They'd met when she was grieving Danny, and he was still with Alice, and they'd been thrown into one life or death situation together after another until neither of them could imagine themselves with anyone else.
Or could they?
"So, I take it you work for Irina, too," Michael said to Brooke.
"Uh-huh," she said, not looking terribly thrilled about the fact. "For almost five years now."
"Five years?" Michael repeated, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "You look awfully young."
Brooke laughed. "What about you?" she countered. "You don't exactly look old enough to be my daddy."
"I--"
"Michael?"
Michael turned to look at Sydney, standing at the door to the balcony, looking confused and a little hurt by what she was seeing. For some reason, he felt the slightest sense of satisfaction at that. "Hi, Syd."
Sydney glanced from him to Brooke and back again, finally moving towards him and sliding a possessive arm around his waist. "Michael, darling, why don't you come back to the party?" He fought the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. So this was how she acted when she was jealous. It was kind of cute. "I need a dance partner."
"Of course, sweetheart," he said, wrapping his arms around her as she snuggled up against him.
It was only when she had firmly established her claim on him that she turned to Brooke, looking at her as if she were no more than an irritating little bug. "I don't believe we've met," she said coolly.
"No, but I've heard about you," Brooke said, a bemused twinkle in her eye as she glanced from Sydney to Michael and back again. "You're Sydney Bristow."
"Oh, Michael's mentioned me?" Sydney purred. Michael felt her pull him closer to her, if that were even possible.
Brooke laughed gently. "Let's just say you're kind of famous around here."
"No, not famous," Michael corrected with a smile. "Notorious."
"That's right." Brooke and Michael shared a laugh.
This didn't seem to please Sydney one bit. "Come on, baby," she encouraged. "Let's go back to the party."
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Michael said, kissing her cheek. He'd coddle her ego a little if he needed to. Of course she was the only one he really wanted, anyway. Although-- "It was nice talking to you, Brooke."
"You too, Michael," she said with a smile. "Oh, I didn't get to introduce myself, Sydney. Brooke Banning."
"Charmed," Sydney said, though she was already ushering Michael back through the sliding glass doors that led back inside.
"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again," Brooke called after them.
As much as Michael adored the woman who was currently clinging to him like a leech, he couldn't help but feel a little pleased by the idea.
