[CHAPTER EIGHT]
Vaughn walked quietly into the living room. Sydney was sitting in the single chair, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle. She turned to see him enter, and sat the bottle down. He put the car keys on the counter, and went to the sofa.
"Thank you."
She took a sip of wine, and put her feet on the table. "What was all that about?"
He sat back on the sofa, and scratched his leg. "Tom works for the finance department in the CIA."
A loud burst of laughter came from Sydney. "He works for the FINANCE department? And he's lecturing me on how the job is dangerous?!?"
Vaughn nodded, and a small smile played around him lips. "Tom and I went to college together. We were best friends, and even got jobs with the CIA at the same time. He's an ok guy once you get to know him. I'm sorry for stopping you from saying anything. He's a smart guy. He'd figure things out eventually. We're not supposed to be found."
"It's ok." She could still feel the touch of his lips on hers. "What about Marie?"
"Ah." He sat forward again, and lifted the bottle of wine, pouring a glass for himself. "Marie and I were good friends too. Very good friends." He lifted his eyes to hers, gauging her reaction. She showed no emotion when he continued. "We were engaged for a few months at the end of college. She and Tom were close all through the time we were together. I eventually found them..." He stopped, and looked down at his glass. "Well..." Sydney immediately understood.
"Oh."
"Yeah. But a few months later, she came back to me, asking to take her back. Like a fool, I did." He ran his fingers through his damp hair, still wet from the snow outside. "Tom and I stopped talking after that. A year ago, I started to speak to him again. Everything seemed fine. I'm guessing him and Marie were together then."
"Did she mean a lot to you?"
"Oh no. Not anymore." He looked up at her, his eyes telling her everything his mouth couldn't. Sydney smiled, and began to scratch again. "You really have to stop scratching that."
"I think I can take the cast off now. It should be healed."
"It won't be healed."
"I'm going to see anyway." She stood up and walked to the kitchen, searching for a large pair of scissors. "Is there anything I can cut this open with?"
"No!" He jumped to his feet, and shut the cutlery drawer which she had just opened. "Don't open that cast! If it hasn't healed, it'll get worse."
"But I have to scratch it!!!" She reached for a thin ladle sitting on the counter, and tried to nudge it down the inside of the cast. "It's driving me mad!" He pulled the utensil from her hand, and sat it down.
"We can put water on it to cool it down. Don't start shoving things down it to scratch it. It'll just make it worse." He took her gently by the arm, and led her to the bathroom. She continued to scratch it as he lifted a towel from the rack, and soaked it in cold water. While he had his back to her, she reached over and pulled her toothbrush from the holder, and tried to scratch the top of the skin just under the cast. She managed to scratch a small part of it, when Vaughn turned around again.
"Sorry. I really have to scratch it."
He looked at the toothbrush sticking out of her cast, and began to laugh. "Ok. You're taking it too far now. Give me the toothbrush." He held out his hand.
"Just a minute." She tried to finish scratching the rest of the skin at the top of her arm, while Vaughn stood there, hand outstretched. "That's a little better." She handed him the toothbrush. "It's still itchy."
"This will help." He pulled her closer to the sink, and soaked the towel again. Wrapping it around her arm, she immediately felt relief. "How's that?"
"So much better. Thank you." He rubbed the towel around her arm. "When can I get this thing off?!?"
"We can go see a doctor tomorrow." He left the bathroom, and walked into the living room with Sydney close behind.
"So how do you feel about Marie?" It just came out of the blue, she didn't even think about it before she said it.
"What?" He turned to her. She shrugged, and sat on the sofa, reaching for the remote.
"How do you feel about her now that you've seen her again. Are you still in love with her?" She really didn't want to ask him these questions, but something inside drove the words from her mouth. "I don't mean to pry, but if I'm going to be getting in the way of any reunion..." She couldn't look at him when she said it. He stood, motionless.
"Of course I'm not in love with her!" He moved over to the single seat, and sat down. "I can't believe you would even ask that. She's married to Tom now."
"But if she wasn't..." He gave her an angry look. "I'm just asking, Vaughn! There's no need to be defensive. You can't help who you fall for. Am I in the way?"
"In the way?" He bowed his head. "You're right on one thing. You can't help who you fall in love with." Vaughn looked over at her, as she stared at the television. "You're not in the way at all." If she had noticed him at that moment, there could have been no mistake as to the feelings Vaughn had for her. His eyes were filled with tortured love. He could never really have Sydney, no matter how much his heart was screaming for her.
"Ok. I just don't want to be sitting around like a fourth wheel, or something." She turned in the sofa, and faced Vaughn. "So, what's our story?"
"Well, It will have to be believable." He shrugged.
"Yeah, I got that much. So, where did we meet?"
"Where do you want us to meet?"
"A kings game."
"Then we met at a Kings game." He smiled.
"Popcorn?" She stood up.
"I don't think we need to go into as much detail..."
"No, I mean, do you want popcorn?" Walking to the kitchen, she pulled out a bag of popcorn.
"Oh, ok. Sure. So when did we meet?"
"Say six months." Sydney poured some popcorn into a bowl, and walked back to the sofa. "It sounds believable enough."
"Right. They'll want to know who proposed. Do you want to?"
"Me? It's you they thought would have proposed!"
"But..." Seeing the amused look on her face, he shrugged. "What did I do?"
"You think of something. It's your proposal! Make it romantic." She started to eat the popcorn.
"Romantic?!?"
"Yes! There's no way I would marry you unless it was romantic."
"Well... like what?"
"Your proposal... whatever you think."
"But you won't marry me unless it's romantic..." He raised an eyebrow. "So it has to be romantic. I have no idea."
"You're saying that you don't do romantic?"
"It's not that I don't do romantic... I just can't do it on demand! Give me some popcorn." He held out his hand.
"Not until you think of something romantic to propose through." She held the popcorn away from him.
"Too much use of the word romantic..." He sat back in the seat, and sighed. "What if I gave you the ring in food or something."
"In food? What do you think this is? Lady and the Tramp?"
"Wasn't that film good?"
"It was ok. Give me something more... imaginative. Like white horse style."
"White horse style?" He groaned, and paused to think. "What about proposing over dinner."
"You've got a thing for food, don't you."
"It's all I got."
"Ok." She sat the popcorn down on the table, and stared at him. "Think about it. If you were proposing to someone, and wanted it to be ROMANTIC, what would you do?"
"Well..." He fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze. "... I could write it in a letter?" He shrugged again, and swiped the popcorn off the table.
"A letter? No!"
"Fine. What about a 'romantic' trip to Paris."
"That's better. Now where in Paris would you propose?"
"The Eiffel tower?"
"Too common."
"The Champs-Elysees?"
"No."
"Where then?"
She stopped, and thought for a second. "What about on the flight back? You could propose over the intercom!"
"That's meant to be romantic?"
"It's different, isn't it?"
"Wasn't that done in the Wedding Singer?"
"Yeah, so?"
"No reason. Ok, so it was on the flight back from Paris. What did I say?"
"You can think of that one by yourself. Give me back the popcorn." She reached over, and took some popcorn from the bowl. "What's my 'desk' job, then."
"You could be a receptionist."
"Where."
"Credit Dauphine?" He laughed, and sat the popcorn down on the table for her to take. "Maybe not."
"I could work for the Los Angeles Register. Will's told me enough about it to bluff with."
"Ok then. A journalist?"
"Why not. That way, Tom can be happy that I'm safe behind a desk, and won't ask too many questions." She took some more popcorn, and munched on it. "What about up to now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like, do we live together, what your favourite colour is, do you have any pets. That kind of thing. The stuff we should know about eachother." She realised then that she didn't know half as much information about Vaughn, as she felt she did. As much as she cared for him, she barely knew him. She wanted to know everything about him. This would be the perfect opportunity. Vaughn was going to use this to his advantage too.
"Ok, let's say we don't live together. It's easier that way."
"Why?"
"I... it just is."
"So you wouldn't want to live with me?"
"Well... No. Yes. Why are you taking this so seriously?" He looked startled at her indignant response.
"I just find it hard to believe that if have been engaged for so long, that we wouldn't be living together."
"But you have your work, and I have mine... and I just need space!"
"But...!" They both stopped, and realised they were bickering like they were really engaged. Laughing, Sydney nodded her head. "Ok. So we're not living together."
"Ok. I have a dog."
"Oh. What's the name of it?"
"He's called Donovan."
"That's a nice name."
"Thanks."
They sat in silence for a moment. "I guess you know everything about me from my file."
"Pretty much." He twiddled his thumbs. "Wait... what's your favourite colour?" He looked up, his forehead wrinkling. "You never told me your favourite colour."
"It's red. What's yours?"
"Blue."
"That explains the shirts."
"Sorry?"
"You almost always wear blue under your suits."
"You notice that?"
"Yeah. Pretty hard not to." She looked down, eyes widening. "I mean... they're pretty loud shirts and ties. Not that I was staring at your chest or anything... You just... tend to wear blue stuff. If you know what I mean."
Laughing, Vaughn slid the popcorn over to Sydney. "Yeah. Have some more popcorn. Is there anything good on tv?" He picked up the remote, and started to surf through the channels. Quietly, he added. "You know Marie will ask you a lot of questions if we are invited up for dinner, don't you?"
"I know. I think I'm ready for them. Can we go see the doctor in the morning? I think this cast is ready to come off."
"Ok. It will be about an hour drive to the nearest hospital, though."
"Vaughn... it took us almost four days to get to this cabin in the car. I think I'm prepared for an hour drive, don't you?"
He laughed, and pulled the popcorn over. "True."
"I'm going to go to bed anyway. It's late."
"Ok. I'll wake you in the morning."
"Goodnight." She stood up, and walked over to his chair. "Don't worry about Marie and Tom." She put her hand on his shoulder. "They aren't that big a problem." He placed his hand over hers, and looked up at her.
"I know. I'm not worried."
"Ok then. See you in the morning." She ruffled his hair affectionately, and left the room. He just sat there smiling. They were back to the way they were before, at least for the time being. He couldn't wait till they had dinner with Tom and Marie, if only to be near Sydney, and pretend for that small amount of time. He was looking forward to it.
*****
Sorry for the delay in posting!
Chapter nine coming soon: Keep the reviews coming! Thanks.
Vaughn walked quietly into the living room. Sydney was sitting in the single chair, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle. She turned to see him enter, and sat the bottle down. He put the car keys on the counter, and went to the sofa.
"Thank you."
She took a sip of wine, and put her feet on the table. "What was all that about?"
He sat back on the sofa, and scratched his leg. "Tom works for the finance department in the CIA."
A loud burst of laughter came from Sydney. "He works for the FINANCE department? And he's lecturing me on how the job is dangerous?!?"
Vaughn nodded, and a small smile played around him lips. "Tom and I went to college together. We were best friends, and even got jobs with the CIA at the same time. He's an ok guy once you get to know him. I'm sorry for stopping you from saying anything. He's a smart guy. He'd figure things out eventually. We're not supposed to be found."
"It's ok." She could still feel the touch of his lips on hers. "What about Marie?"
"Ah." He sat forward again, and lifted the bottle of wine, pouring a glass for himself. "Marie and I were good friends too. Very good friends." He lifted his eyes to hers, gauging her reaction. She showed no emotion when he continued. "We were engaged for a few months at the end of college. She and Tom were close all through the time we were together. I eventually found them..." He stopped, and looked down at his glass. "Well..." Sydney immediately understood.
"Oh."
"Yeah. But a few months later, she came back to me, asking to take her back. Like a fool, I did." He ran his fingers through his damp hair, still wet from the snow outside. "Tom and I stopped talking after that. A year ago, I started to speak to him again. Everything seemed fine. I'm guessing him and Marie were together then."
"Did she mean a lot to you?"
"Oh no. Not anymore." He looked up at her, his eyes telling her everything his mouth couldn't. Sydney smiled, and began to scratch again. "You really have to stop scratching that."
"I think I can take the cast off now. It should be healed."
"It won't be healed."
"I'm going to see anyway." She stood up and walked to the kitchen, searching for a large pair of scissors. "Is there anything I can cut this open with?"
"No!" He jumped to his feet, and shut the cutlery drawer which she had just opened. "Don't open that cast! If it hasn't healed, it'll get worse."
"But I have to scratch it!!!" She reached for a thin ladle sitting on the counter, and tried to nudge it down the inside of the cast. "It's driving me mad!" He pulled the utensil from her hand, and sat it down.
"We can put water on it to cool it down. Don't start shoving things down it to scratch it. It'll just make it worse." He took her gently by the arm, and led her to the bathroom. She continued to scratch it as he lifted a towel from the rack, and soaked it in cold water. While he had his back to her, she reached over and pulled her toothbrush from the holder, and tried to scratch the top of the skin just under the cast. She managed to scratch a small part of it, when Vaughn turned around again.
"Sorry. I really have to scratch it."
He looked at the toothbrush sticking out of her cast, and began to laugh. "Ok. You're taking it too far now. Give me the toothbrush." He held out his hand.
"Just a minute." She tried to finish scratching the rest of the skin at the top of her arm, while Vaughn stood there, hand outstretched. "That's a little better." She handed him the toothbrush. "It's still itchy."
"This will help." He pulled her closer to the sink, and soaked the towel again. Wrapping it around her arm, she immediately felt relief. "How's that?"
"So much better. Thank you." He rubbed the towel around her arm. "When can I get this thing off?!?"
"We can go see a doctor tomorrow." He left the bathroom, and walked into the living room with Sydney close behind.
"So how do you feel about Marie?" It just came out of the blue, she didn't even think about it before she said it.
"What?" He turned to her. She shrugged, and sat on the sofa, reaching for the remote.
"How do you feel about her now that you've seen her again. Are you still in love with her?" She really didn't want to ask him these questions, but something inside drove the words from her mouth. "I don't mean to pry, but if I'm going to be getting in the way of any reunion..." She couldn't look at him when she said it. He stood, motionless.
"Of course I'm not in love with her!" He moved over to the single seat, and sat down. "I can't believe you would even ask that. She's married to Tom now."
"But if she wasn't..." He gave her an angry look. "I'm just asking, Vaughn! There's no need to be defensive. You can't help who you fall for. Am I in the way?"
"In the way?" He bowed his head. "You're right on one thing. You can't help who you fall in love with." Vaughn looked over at her, as she stared at the television. "You're not in the way at all." If she had noticed him at that moment, there could have been no mistake as to the feelings Vaughn had for her. His eyes were filled with tortured love. He could never really have Sydney, no matter how much his heart was screaming for her.
"Ok. I just don't want to be sitting around like a fourth wheel, or something." She turned in the sofa, and faced Vaughn. "So, what's our story?"
"Well, It will have to be believable." He shrugged.
"Yeah, I got that much. So, where did we meet?"
"Where do you want us to meet?"
"A kings game."
"Then we met at a Kings game." He smiled.
"Popcorn?" She stood up.
"I don't think we need to go into as much detail..."
"No, I mean, do you want popcorn?" Walking to the kitchen, she pulled out a bag of popcorn.
"Oh, ok. Sure. So when did we meet?"
"Say six months." Sydney poured some popcorn into a bowl, and walked back to the sofa. "It sounds believable enough."
"Right. They'll want to know who proposed. Do you want to?"
"Me? It's you they thought would have proposed!"
"But..." Seeing the amused look on her face, he shrugged. "What did I do?"
"You think of something. It's your proposal! Make it romantic." She started to eat the popcorn.
"Romantic?!?"
"Yes! There's no way I would marry you unless it was romantic."
"Well... like what?"
"Your proposal... whatever you think."
"But you won't marry me unless it's romantic..." He raised an eyebrow. "So it has to be romantic. I have no idea."
"You're saying that you don't do romantic?"
"It's not that I don't do romantic... I just can't do it on demand! Give me some popcorn." He held out his hand.
"Not until you think of something romantic to propose through." She held the popcorn away from him.
"Too much use of the word romantic..." He sat back in the seat, and sighed. "What if I gave you the ring in food or something."
"In food? What do you think this is? Lady and the Tramp?"
"Wasn't that film good?"
"It was ok. Give me something more... imaginative. Like white horse style."
"White horse style?" He groaned, and paused to think. "What about proposing over dinner."
"You've got a thing for food, don't you."
"It's all I got."
"Ok." She sat the popcorn down on the table, and stared at him. "Think about it. If you were proposing to someone, and wanted it to be ROMANTIC, what would you do?"
"Well..." He fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze. "... I could write it in a letter?" He shrugged again, and swiped the popcorn off the table.
"A letter? No!"
"Fine. What about a 'romantic' trip to Paris."
"That's better. Now where in Paris would you propose?"
"The Eiffel tower?"
"Too common."
"The Champs-Elysees?"
"No."
"Where then?"
She stopped, and thought for a second. "What about on the flight back? You could propose over the intercom!"
"That's meant to be romantic?"
"It's different, isn't it?"
"Wasn't that done in the Wedding Singer?"
"Yeah, so?"
"No reason. Ok, so it was on the flight back from Paris. What did I say?"
"You can think of that one by yourself. Give me back the popcorn." She reached over, and took some popcorn from the bowl. "What's my 'desk' job, then."
"You could be a receptionist."
"Where."
"Credit Dauphine?" He laughed, and sat the popcorn down on the table for her to take. "Maybe not."
"I could work for the Los Angeles Register. Will's told me enough about it to bluff with."
"Ok then. A journalist?"
"Why not. That way, Tom can be happy that I'm safe behind a desk, and won't ask too many questions." She took some more popcorn, and munched on it. "What about up to now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like, do we live together, what your favourite colour is, do you have any pets. That kind of thing. The stuff we should know about eachother." She realised then that she didn't know half as much information about Vaughn, as she felt she did. As much as she cared for him, she barely knew him. She wanted to know everything about him. This would be the perfect opportunity. Vaughn was going to use this to his advantage too.
"Ok, let's say we don't live together. It's easier that way."
"Why?"
"I... it just is."
"So you wouldn't want to live with me?"
"Well... No. Yes. Why are you taking this so seriously?" He looked startled at her indignant response.
"I just find it hard to believe that if have been engaged for so long, that we wouldn't be living together."
"But you have your work, and I have mine... and I just need space!"
"But...!" They both stopped, and realised they were bickering like they were really engaged. Laughing, Sydney nodded her head. "Ok. So we're not living together."
"Ok. I have a dog."
"Oh. What's the name of it?"
"He's called Donovan."
"That's a nice name."
"Thanks."
They sat in silence for a moment. "I guess you know everything about me from my file."
"Pretty much." He twiddled his thumbs. "Wait... what's your favourite colour?" He looked up, his forehead wrinkling. "You never told me your favourite colour."
"It's red. What's yours?"
"Blue."
"That explains the shirts."
"Sorry?"
"You almost always wear blue under your suits."
"You notice that?"
"Yeah. Pretty hard not to." She looked down, eyes widening. "I mean... they're pretty loud shirts and ties. Not that I was staring at your chest or anything... You just... tend to wear blue stuff. If you know what I mean."
Laughing, Vaughn slid the popcorn over to Sydney. "Yeah. Have some more popcorn. Is there anything good on tv?" He picked up the remote, and started to surf through the channels. Quietly, he added. "You know Marie will ask you a lot of questions if we are invited up for dinner, don't you?"
"I know. I think I'm ready for them. Can we go see the doctor in the morning? I think this cast is ready to come off."
"Ok. It will be about an hour drive to the nearest hospital, though."
"Vaughn... it took us almost four days to get to this cabin in the car. I think I'm prepared for an hour drive, don't you?"
He laughed, and pulled the popcorn over. "True."
"I'm going to go to bed anyway. It's late."
"Ok. I'll wake you in the morning."
"Goodnight." She stood up, and walked over to his chair. "Don't worry about Marie and Tom." She put her hand on his shoulder. "They aren't that big a problem." He placed his hand over hers, and looked up at her.
"I know. I'm not worried."
"Ok then. See you in the morning." She ruffled his hair affectionately, and left the room. He just sat there smiling. They were back to the way they were before, at least for the time being. He couldn't wait till they had dinner with Tom and Marie, if only to be near Sydney, and pretend for that small amount of time. He was looking forward to it.
*****
Sorry for the delay in posting!
Chapter nine coming soon: Keep the reviews coming! Thanks.